voted most likely to make questionable decisions

It took a few seconds for the realization to cut through the hangover haze.

Ilya blinked slowly and let his gaze wander around the room. It didn't look like his place, but, honestly, that wasn't the main concern. Waking up in unfamiliar locations wasn't exactly new to him; after all, he has had more wild nights than he could count.

The problem wasn't the location. 

The problem was that there was clearly a man lying on his chest.

Ilya turned his head slowly, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his temple, and stared at the stranger. A head rested against his chest, covered in long black hair. The person was breathing softly, clearly deep in sleep. Ilya raised a hand and brushed the hair aside to get a better look at who it was.

And damn... Fucking gorgeous.

Even through his grogginess, Ilya noticed it instantly.

What a hot man.

Beautiful freckles were scattered across his face, and he looked like something straight out of Ilya’s wettest dreams. 

The man was wearing a loose sweatshirt, and from Ilya’s point of view, he could catch glimpses of pale shoulders and a muscular chest. He didn't know how he’d managed it, but clearly, the night before, he had achieved the impossible and gone home with a guy like this. He almost regretted not remembering it.

Sensing he was being watched, the man slowly opened his eyes.

Such beautiful brown eyes.

And before Ilya could think of anything clever to say, the stranger smiled at him, murmured something in a language he didn't understand and, without further ado, kissed him.

Ilya certainly wasn't going to question it.

At first, the kiss was shy, almost playful, as if it were something they did every day. Soon, however, the kisses grew longer and more intense. The man’s hand moved up from Ilya’s chest and threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer—as if that were even possible. His tongue grazed the line of Ilya’s lips while his fingernails lightly raked against the back of his neck.

Ilya wrapped his arm around the man’s waist. He could already feel the excitement spreading through his body like a flame, and honestly, if this was the result of the previous night’s drinking, then maybe drinking until he passed out was an excellent idea after all.

But before anything could happen, a sound interrupted the moment.

It was a low sound, almost muffled, and it sounded like… crying?

The man let out a weary groan against Ilya’s mouth before pulling away. He sat on Ilya’s lap for a moment—his lips still red and moist from the kiss—and remained motionless, as if trying to confirm something. When the noise came again, he sighed, clearly frustrated, and got out of bed.

Ilya watched him disappear through the doorway, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

Was there a child there?

It took a few seconds for the idea to register in his aching head. Was that man a father? A single dad? Ilya tried to imagine someone walking out on a guy like that and simply couldn't. Honestly, it seemed like a crime.

With his mind still hazy from the hangover, he finally sat up in bed and ran a hand through his hair. That’s was when he noticed another strange detail. His clothes weren't scattered around the room. In fact, they weren't even in sight. Instead, he was wearing soft pajamas that definitely didn't belong to him.

A shiver ran down his spine.

"What the fuck...?"

Ilya got out of bed and left the room, determined to find out where his things were. However, as soon as he entered the living room, his steps faltered.

The man was standing near the sofa, holding a child. The boy looked to be about two years old—chubby, with rosy cheeks—and was wearing blue pajamas covered in stars. Before Ilya could even take in the scene, the child spotted him.

The little one’s eyes lit up.

A huge smile spread across his face, and he immediately reached out his arms toward Ilya.

"Papa!"

Ilya froze.

His gaze swept across the room almost instinctively, and that was when he noticed the photographs.

There were frames scattered all over the house. Photos of them at the beach, hugging on the sofa, sleeping together, holding the child. In one, the three of them were covered in sand, smiling at the camera. In another, the man was kissing his cheek while the baby laughed in his lap.

Then he saw the wedding photo.

"Shane & Ilya, 2026"

His stomach sank.

In the picture, he looked a few years older. He was wearing an impeccable black suit and wore a serious expression, but the way he was looking at that man was impossible to ignore. There was affection, admiration, and something so intense it almost made him uncomfortable.

Before he had time to react, the man—whose name he now knew was Shane—simply placed the child in his arms.

The small, warm weight against his chest made his brain short-circuit. The boy settled in immediately, grabbing his T-shirt with familiarity and resting his head on his shoulder as if it were part of their routine.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Shane asked as he walked toward the kitchen.

"W... whatever you want to give me." Ilya kept staring at the child, who was watching him back with absolute calm.

"Ilya... are you okay?" Shane glanced his way.

"I..." He swallowed hard. "Yeah. Just a headache."

Shane kept watching him for a few seconds before sighing.

"Do you want me to leave Yuri with my mom today while I'm at work?"

Yuri.

The boy instantly buried his face in Ilya’s neck, hugging him tighter, as if the thought of separation were the worst thing in the world. Ilya remained motionless, unsure of what to say. He didn't even know how to look after a child, but it couldn't be that hard, right?

He had the feeling that if he were to part ways with the child, the boy would be devastated.

"No need. We're fine," he replied after a few moments, and Shane simply nodded.

The rest of the day passed with strange tranquility. Shane left right after breakfast, mentioning there was food for them in the freezer and gave him a quick kiss before heading out, telling him to call if he needed anything. Shane seemed wary, but Yuri—two years and nine months old—flatly refused to leave Ilya’s lap for more than a few seconds.

It was a relief to realize the child understood Russian; despite being extremely spoiled (something Ilya suspected was his own fault), the boy was generally obedient and ate everything put on his plate.

After lunch, they ended up sitting on the sofa watching cartoons. 

The boy laughed and reacted excitedly to the colors and movement on the screen. At some point, Yuri fell asleep against his chest. Ilya looked down at the boy, watching the small fingers still clutching his shirt and the completely relaxed expression on his face.

The whole thing was absurd. 

Had he transmigrated? 

Had he perhaps traveled to the future? 

Perhaps he was still dreaming. Yes. Probably.

He hadn’t realized he wanted a family before this. And if it was a dream, he hoped he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

Soon, drowsiness set in; his eyelids grew heavy as he tried every possible way to stay awake. 

He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to return to his miserable reality of heavy drinking, with no one waiting for him at home. Even so, his eyes closed against his will—as if an invisible force were pressing down on him—and he drifted off to sleep on the sofa.

—

When he opened his eyes again, the world was not the same.

The ceiling was the same as in his student dorm—white, with faint stains in spots he knew by heart, illuminated by that same dim, impersonal light. Sunlight didn't stream through the window quite the way it used to, and his head ached, but it was nothing compared to the crushing pain of not waking up in the other reality.

Realization dawned slowly, like a tide rising unhurriedly, and Ilya let out a heavy sigh before he even moved.

 He already knew. He was back.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," his roommate said from the doorway, his backpack already on. "You're going to be late."

The door slammed shut right after, leaving the room in silence.

Ilya lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling as if expecting something to change, but nothing did. 

There was no Shane. No Yuri. No photos scattered around the house, nor that strange warmth of a life that had seemed to be his.

It was as if all of that had never existed.

He closed his eyes for a moment longer than he should have and felt a heaviness in his chest. 

He wasn't exactly sad. It is just….  good things didn't last for him. They never did.

Perhaps he wasn't allowed to be happy.

Ilya got up mechanically, put on his uniform, and left the dorm without really paying attention to his reflection in the hallway mirror. On the way to school, everything moved at the usual pace: students walking in groups, teachers heading to class; no one seemed to notice that anything had changed.

The main hallway was crowded when he entered. The usual din of voices mingled with hurried footsteps and the sound of doors opening and closing. Ilya walked through it all as if slightly out of sync, observing without truly participating.

That was when he saw him.

The boy had his back turned, talking to someone else. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder, and there was something… familiar. Dark hair, cut somewhat short, falling casually across his forehead.

And then he turned around.

For a second, the sounds of the hallway seemed distant. 

The air caught in Ilya's throat.

The person the boy was talking to smiled and kept walking, as if guiding him through the school, and the two of them headed his way in what felt like slow motion.

"Rozy, this is the transfer student," someone nearby said, breaking the suspended moment. "He’s joining the hockey team."

The boy looked him straight in the eye.

Beautiful brown eyes.

"Shane," he said, naturally extending a hand. "Shane Hollander."

And perhaps Ilya wasn't going crazy. Perhaps it hadn't been a dream, nor a cruel coincidence.

Perhaps it was simply inevitable.

(It hadn’t taken long- it rarely did when Ilya woke up already needing, cock tenting his thin pyjama bottoms, aching for a release. It didn’t help when he woke up with his boy bundled up in his arms, in his boxers and all hot smooth skin pressed to Ilya, breathing heavy and slow, tangled up in him.

Ilya had fallen asleep in bed without Shane, before eight, in the middle of a row of early shifts that was leaving him dead on his feet. Shane was doing an overtime shift, covering a 2-10pm. It had been a headier pleasure than usual- to wake up to the boy he fell asleep wanting- in his arms, droll against his chest.

Ilya hadn’t intended to wake up Shane, he really hadn’t he was just so fucking hard and Shane’s thigh was over his lap and it was so easy to just rock his hips against the smooth warm skin. He convinced his meld that would be enough to take the edge off, let him fall back to sleep. 

What he hadn’t expected was Shane to wake up a few thrusts in, with a mumbled “Ilya?” His thigh pushing down, hand sliding up the planes of his stomach.

Shane didn’t work the coming day- and sure Ilya did but he’d give up his sleep for this, just not Shane’s. “Wanna” Shane had whined into Ilya’s neck as Ilya’s hand had found his thigh, held him as he rolled his hips up into him, ridged thick cock grinding between soft fabric and warm skin.

“Yeah, baby, okay” Ilya had whispered, voice rough and hazy from sleep, hand reached down to find Shane’s, place it inside his pants, help him find the shape of Ilya’s thick cock.

“Want this?” Ilya had asked, kissing at the tops of Shane’s head as the boy curled closer into him, nose knocking at Ilya’s jaw.

Shane had nodded, hand working Ilya reverently, slow tight strokes alternated with soft touches, loving, loving touches of Ilya’s cock.

“Yeah? That’s okay, you can take it sweetheart, show me” Ilya whispered, threaded his fingers through Shane’s hair as Shane nuzzled and kissed his way down his body, till he could press his face to his cock. Shane had breathed in deep, nuzzling his nose to the base of Ilya’s cock, letting the length of him rest heavy and thick on his face.

Ilya looked down his body with sleep heavy blinks, pushed the covers to the side to see Shane better, frowned in the low light of the room, thankful for the half open blinds letting street light spill enough to see the slack bliss of Shane’s face, lips parted as he mouthed desperately at Ilya’s cock.

Ilya’s hand had taken Shane’s face in his palm, guided him to take his cock, mumbling “good boy” with a relived sigh at the hot tight wet of Shane’s pretty mouth.)

Shane’s cock pulses dizzy and thick against the sheets and he ruts desperately into them, thighs straining with it as Ilya uses his face, cock still wet with Shane’s saliva as is glides against his cheek, Ilya’s big fingers holding his jaw up, holding him close.

“Ilya. I wanna” Shane whines, turns his mouth towards Ilya cock, he wants- he needs, more. He needs Ilya to look after him- he wants to cum he doesn’t want to waste it against the sheets he wants it ask be for Ilya. Ilya’s- like he is.

Shane blinks and Ilya’s hand has caught his chin, pulled him away from his cock and shoved his thumb inside. Shane’s tongue chases desperately, starts sucking at it welcomes the warm weight.

“You can have it baby” Ilya’s voice is warm waves over Shane’s body and Shane whimpers, wants, hand reaches and finds Ilya’s, their fingers tangle together and Shane lets out a slow breath, slows the roll of his hips, blinks hard to look up at Ilya.

“Yeah? It’s your cock, you know that you just have to ask bunny, then we can get you all full like you like” Shane pulls off Ilya’s thumb with a slick sound, grips Ilya’s fingers and his voice is fucking shot, from how deep he’d taken Ilya’s cock, from exhaustion when he says.

“Ilya can I have your cock please” he presses his face to Ilya’s hip, breaths in again slow and measured.

“Where? Here again?” Ilya asks, and his fingers are pushing down to rub at Shane’s mouth and Shane shakes his head, frowning.

“No, no Ilya inside me, fuck inside please put it inside me” Shane babbles and hopes he’s asking correctly.

He can smell Ilya’s sweat, taste his cum, he ruts his hips and fuck he could maybe cum like this, Ilya’s hand now sliding through his hair, Ilya all around him.

“Come here” Ilya says and Shane is crawling up Ilya’s body, Ilya’s arms scooping Shane up onto his chest, hands on his ass.

“Hi” Shane whispers as he presses his face into Ilya’s neck and he feels Ilya’s arms squeeze, a crushing hug to his broad chest.

“Oh, Hi baby” Ilya whispered back and kisses up the side of Shane’s face, knocks their faces together and nuzzles until his mouth finds Shane’s and he licks into it, kissing him hot and messy, the noise of their mouths slick in the room.

“You still wanna?” Ilya asks as he pulls back just enough to speak, mouths still brushing. Shane nods, squeezes his thighs where they rest either side of Ilya’s body, tits his hips down to rub his cock against Ilya’s abdomen.

“Yeah” Shane exhales, arches his back, pushing his stomach against Ilya’s in a small stretch. “Missed you, wanna feel you” Shane cooes and then Ilya is kissing him senseless again, till he’s shivery and whiny and fucking wet, head of his cock soaking his boxers through.

Ilya gets Shane open on two fingers, too much lube spilled from the bottle in the dark of the room, and he’s so fucking slick with it that Ilya’s cock slips over his hole three times before he can actually catch the head on his hole and press in in in.

Shane is sat up in Ilya’s lap, arms around his neck, their chests pressed flush to each other, Shane’s forehead pressed into Ilya’s neck, his legs behind Ilya’s body like he’s sitting cross legged, Ilya’s hands on his ass, easing Shane down onto the thick hot press of him.

Shane’s head swims, falls off the cliff into the entire ocean and dissolves. Ilya gets so fucking deep like this, Shane feels so full and Ilya’s hands are all over him, down his back over his shoulders, his thighs. Shane feels like he’s melting into Ilya’s body like they couldn’t seperate if they tried to.

“S’so much” Shane exhales, wraps his arms tighter around Ilya, wriggles himself forward in, closer closer he wants to be closer.

“Perfect for my needy bunny, soo much” Ilya’s voice is soft teasing and it makes Shane’s blood rush in his ears, toes curl.

“You love it hm? How I stretch you here, how you feel so so deep” Ilya whispers it like a secret between them, safe only in the tiny space between them, where they share their breathing. Keeping it just to them even in an empty room. Shane feels like one of those fireworks that shimmer in the sky for minutes after it’s been set off, spread out and sparkling, burning all over.

“I love, love it” Shane whispers, nods, whines when Ilya kisses over his ear, pulls the lobe into his mouth with a soft suck. Ilya’s hand slides between them, finds the peak of Shane’s nipple and rubs, rubs.

“Yeah?” Ilya asked, and starts a slow rock of his hips that makes Shane’s stomach tense, cock throb, need shiver through him.

“Yeah Ilya. Love this, love you, love your cock love how you- how you” Shane cuts off in a moan, Ilya’s thumb pinching his nipple.

“Tell me” Ilya asks and Shane nods, tongue heavy as he tries to find what Ilya’s wants.

“How you- uh uh- god” he swallows. “How you fuck me” Shane rolls his hips the best he can, back and down to match Ilya, push his cock deeper.

“How you, you look after me. How it feels being full- I just wanna, wanna make you feel good like like I do” Shane gasps when Ilya grunts and starts fucking up to him in steady pushes of his hips, bulling his cock into him over and over and over.

“Ohmygodilya” Shane whines, his nails dig into Ilya’s shoulders, pull, his head drops back and he ruts his hips forward forward forward, arches his chest up into the mean perfect pinch of Ilya’s fingers on his nipple.

“You’re so good Shane, so good like this, my fucking baby, made to take me, make me feel so fucking good, nothing better than you sweetheart fuck” Ilya growls and Shane kicks a heel out, squirms, his jaw goes slack.

“Fuck you’re gonna cum aren’t you baby? Don’t need my hand to cum do you, just my cock inside huh? So good it makes you cum for me” Ilya’s words wrap up Shane and he fists hand in Ilya’s curls, pulls desperately, he wants to feel Ilya in his bones, all through him, wants them to be one brilliant hot aching thing.

“It’s so pretty, so beautiful how much you love it Shane fuck, love your perfect fucking hole, feel so good, so fucking wet” and Ilya’s right, he is, the extra lube making it sound extra crude, the wet sound of their bodies.

“Ilya” Shane gasps between open mouthed hiccuping moans and Shane feels a hand under his head, guiding him to Ilya, who pushes his tongue into Shane’s mouth, Shane sucking on it as Ilya pounds up into two, three, four more times and then Shane comes apart, his orgasm detonates him the wave of it, soaks him in a hot honey shivering pulsing pleasure that shoots from his cock over and over, messy between them. He’s going to die he sure of it, eyes up in the back of his head, body gripping around Ilya’s cock, universes ending behind his eyelids as he comes and comes, feels it thud in his toes, his jaw, his hips, thighs.

Shane comes back to himself and he’s on his back, Ilya’s heat an absence from his bed and Shane whimpers once low in his throat a pinch of cold in his chest, ready to bloom, and then Ilya is there, hands on his shins, voice warm and soft “none of that I am here zaychik” Shane smiles.

“Ilya” he mumbles and reaches an arm out, blinks blearily and smiles when he sees Ilya between his legs, a washer in hand.

“Yes. Is me your lover” he smirks and Shane forces a heavy leg hot to push his foot at Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya just turns his head and kisses his ankle, bites the arch of his foot.

“You cum?” Shane asks, and Ilya nods, brings two fingers from between Shane’s thighs, over his sensitive hole and holds them up, shows Shane the cum dripping down them.

“I missed it” Shane pouts, he loves feeling Ilya cum inside him, the rutting thrusts in, the way he shakes, the way he grips Shane.

“Yes, I fucked you too good, is so sad” Ilya pouts and Shane rolls his eyes, plants his foot between Ilya’s peck and nudges him back.

“Don’t cry baby, here” Ilya leans in, pushes Shane’s thigh to his chest with the movement, and pushes his fingers into Shane’s mouth. “So fucking good for me Zaychik, always, my good boy, so fucking lovely on my cock. Made me cum so fucking hard, you can feel it, hm, how deep I came inside hm?” Ilya praises as Shane sucks them clean, pushes his lips together after to hide his smile.

Ilya sees it anyway he thinks, from the way he’s looking down at him, eyes warm and cheeks flushed and his hand pats Shane’s cheek, thumbs pinches the soft skin.

Shane groans and reaches his arms up, towards Ilya. “Come sleep?” he asks. Ilya doesn’t move.

“You gotta work soon, you need to sleep Ilya” Shane mumbles, impatient and squirms to sit up, force Ilya into his arms. He’s stolen too long of Ilya’s sleep, and the worries begin to edge in.

Ilya must see it, something in his face and he tosses the washcloth to the floor, clearly happy with his cleaning job. Shane opens his mouth to bitch at Ilya for dropping it to the floor but then Ilya is up on him, cuddling into him like a fucking huge teddy bear that lifts weights five times a week. Shane grunts with the force of him, wraps his arms about Ilya, squeezes him close.

“If you say sorry for incredible fucking sex I will put cum rag on your pillow next time” Ilya mutters and nips nips at Shane’s jaw and neck, nuzzles his face down to lick over his nipple which makes Shane shiver, mind go a little blank- too blank to tell Ilya off for calling it a cum rag. He hates that phrase.

“Unfair” Shane says instead, huffs, slaps Ilya’s back.

“Mm I had to tell them goodnight” Ilya smirks, kisses each nipple before be shifts to hover over top of Shane.

“Sleep” Shane reminds Ilya be Ilya nods, catches his chin between his things and leans down to kiss him soft soft and slow.

“Good?” Ilya asks and Shane nods, smiles into their next kiss and snuggles down, reaching to pull the covers up at Ilya kisses his way down to the curve of his neck.

“Hey, hey” Ilya is cooing, his hand is soothing over the back of Shane’s silky soft hair, other arm wrapping tightly around his waist, pressing Shane into his chest.

“Hey” ilya coos, low, draws out the vowel and tucks his face down against the side of Shane’s face. Ilya focuses his breathing, makes it slow and gives Shane a moment before he rushes in with questions, gives him space for words.

“I just-“ Shane’s voice wobbles where it’s tucked into the space between Ilya’s jaw and collarbones.

“I just want to go to bed with you” Shane gets out, voice small, and there’s a tiny sniffle and then he’s perfectly quiet. It makes Ilya’s stomach ache. Ilya can imagine Shane’s stubborn wet lash line, the way he’s refusing to let tears fall. His stubborn, exhausted sweetheart.

“It’s fine I’m ok.” Shane’s voice is flat

“I don’t know maybe I could be tired, but last night wasn’t so busy, nothing bad, just. I’d just really like to go to bed with you right now and fall asleep together” Shane explains and Ilya nods, nods, begins to gently sway them side to side.

Ilya wants to tell Shane to call in sick, to just put himself first please and let his body get some rest. It gets like this for Shane, handling the long hours- juggling it with workouts and seeing friends and dinners with his parents and helping his dad fix the deck and doing it all, till the exhaustion finds him suddenly and he just, gets heavy, slow- and frustrated with himself for feeling effects of the full life he has, the standards he holds himself too. Ilya has to remind him, at times the large stretches of sleep that Shane has surrendered for years. How it might be okay to be exhausted.

But Ilya knows Shane, his Shane, and knows that telling him to stop is futile, trying to persuade him that he could call in, come to bed with Ilya, the unit would be okay, wouldn’t fly with Shane, especially not so close to shift. Ilya knows how important work was to Shane, and that Shane is important to that place. That he cared, it mattered to him, showing up and being present, helping. Being reliable. Most of the time Ilya could just make himself a soft place for Shane to land, to come apart, to need, even if for a short while, to try and fill the exhausted spaces of him, hold him up.

“It’s been a little while huh?” Ilya agrees, (it had been four days, and even one felt too long to Ilya so he was helpless to do anything but agree) and starts his kisses, from the top of Shane’s ear all along his hairline, nose brushing in his hair with the pecks.

“Stupid hospital” Ilya adds, and it gets a small scoff laugh from Shane who nods. “Stupid hospital” he mumbles because it’s easier, to blame the building than all the other parts of it.

“I miss you” Shane adds, and Ilya nods, cups Shane’s face in his palms and eases him back from his neck, keeps him close and looks down at him, drops his neck to drop little kisses over Shane’s brow, the high of his cheeks. Ilya’s hand slides to the back of Shane’s neck and starts rhythmic squeezes.

“And I woke up. I don’t know angry? Or just-“ Shane waves a hand. “Frustrated. I kept waking up through the day and I was I thought it was- I kept rolling over or reaching out expecting to find you in bed but then I’d remember and” Shane shrugs and blinks his eyes half open, eyes heavy and brow frowny as he looks up at Ilya.

“Then it took me ages to wake up cause I was groggy and then I didn’t even say hi to you properly when you came here from work and pushed back going to the gym just to see me before shift and it’s just because I was feeling sorry for myse-“

“I miss you too” Ilya interrupts, leaning in to knock noses with Shane, lingering in his space. His pinkies tuck down past the neck of Shane’s shirt, fidget against the skin.

“Benjamin does not cuddle like you” Ilya teases and he sees a tiny smile flicker at the corner of Shane’s lips at the mention of Benjamin.

Benjamin was a giant stuffed bear Shane had won Ilya on their fifth date at an old refurbished arcade in the city. The thing was stupidly large but Shane’s heart had felt stupidly large at the time; he’d wanted to show off, to win the dumb biggest prize for the cute boy he was on a date with.

The game had aptly been called “Benjamin’s Hammer” with a scarily drawn off brand imitation of the marvel character of Thor that was distinctly off putting, not to mention the strangely out of place name. They could have at least tried to go with a name similar to Thor.

Ilya had whispered to Shane that Benjamin seemed more like a man you’d find in a cross fit gym than a super hero and Shane had agreed. The weird characters six fingers did confirm Shane’s suspicions it has been made by AI. His cape was too short and eyes weirdly formed, a smile that was sinister. Of course they had to play it; they decided.

The ‘game’ had consisted of using the large wooden hammer to swing and hit the target as hard as you could. The harder the hit, the higher the score, the bigger the prize.

Ilya’s smile had been blinding when Shane’s swing had pushed the red light just shy of the top of the large screen that displayed the force of the swing. It had somehow grown even more when Shane had selected the too big bear and passed it into Ilya’s arms with a shy smile. Ilya had thanked him with a kiss to the cheek, a sigh of “my hero, my Benjamin” Shane had replied “ew” at being compared to knock off Thor and dug his fingers into Ilya’s side but his flush had gone down his neck.

Ilya lugged the large brown bear around on his back the rest of the night, proudly declaring his name to be Benjamin of course. The large soft floppy dark coloured bear had taken residence in Ilya’s flat since then, usually sat in the armchair in his room or at the end of his bed (in his bed when he was missing the warm figure of Shane beside him most).

“I think you love him more than me” Shane grumbles and Ilya nods, unable to help but tease, and presses a feather light kiss to Shane’s nose, then his top lip. “Very much so” he whispers and wraps his whole hand over the back of Shane’s tense neck, massaged with his full hand working, firm presser and watches Shane’s eyes flutter.

Shane whines and huffs and oh his poor tired boy. Ilya kisses his top lip again, then his bottom lips pulls back just enough for Shane to tilt his chin up to chase his mouth and then kisses him properly, slow and soft, a hungry lick of his tongue that Shane returns, tightens his arms around Ilya’s shoulders. He tastes like coffee and the sweet residue of cereal. Ilya kisses Shane until he feels his neck and head slacken in Ilya’s grip, feels the weight of his head back into his palm.

Ilya hums against Shane’s mouth and pulls back, bites down his smile when Shane’s head lulls closer to him as if hypnotised.

“Shane” Ilya whispers and Shane blinks his eyes open, small frown working its way back between his brows.

“What” he asks, and Ilya kisses the crease of his brow.

“I do not love Benjamin more than you, he is just an affair, for when my lover is busy being be very important at his job” Ilya whispers and he feels a small laugh draw from Shane.

“Besides he does not wear glasses so” Ilya shrugs, sucks his teeth. “Is no contest” he concludes and Shane whines, that annoyed sound when Ilya carries on. Ilya loves it.

“Okay okay” Ilya concedes and then twists and lays back on the couch, shane curled on top of him.

His eyes flicker to Shane’s Apple Watch, 5:52pm

Shane nuzzles his face into Ilya’s throat and Ilya’s hand is steady massaging over Shane’s neck, pressing out along the lines of his shoulder with steady pressure of his fingers.

They don’t have enough time for Ilya to bring Shane back to himself the way he wants to, the way they both know works best, doesn’t have time to let his Shane get the full sleep he needs, doesn’t have the ability to give Shane what he wants, a night together just them, falling asleep at the same time. So he problem solves.

“Here is plan” Ilya says and he feels Shane hum, nod slightly Ilya distantly thinks of those videos of owners saying dogs favourite words in front of them, how they perk up and their ears twitch. Ilya values his safely so he doesn’t voice this thought.

“I will drive you to work, we will leave at 6:45 yes because you will not need extra time for parking so extra time for us. Then you will work and it will be okay, and you can keep my jumper so you are warm and is like I am not far. I will go to gym very nice and early and then come and pick you up, we will come home, have gross smoothie you like and eggs on toast that I like and then we will shower, and then I will fuck you to sleep yes?” Ilya keeps his voice low and calm, washing it over Shane like the ocean pushing in, the movements of his hands on Shane’s neck and back rhythmic, his breathing steady.

“We will sleep, together, in bed, us- and then when we wake up we can go for a walk or to sauna or to the couch to watch a movie or we stay in bed and I fuck you some more” Ilya shrugs listing Shane’s prefers post last night shift activity. “You will pick from these options- what you want and I will make happen” Ilya kisses the shell of Shane’s ear, slides his hand down to press and rub at his lower back.

“You do the next twelve hours and then I’ve got you for the next whole day okay? You just let me have you” Ilya mumbles the instruction, hand slides to Shane’s hip and holds, rubs his thumb.

“Yes?” Ilya prompts and Shane nods, nods, his hands are fisted into Ilya’s shirt, breathing steady and even.

“Yeah. Please” Shane replied and illya kisses kisses kisses the crown of his head.

“Okay” Ilya confirms and feels Shane snuggle down into him, loose like some of the strings pulling him have slackened.

“Okay” Shane echoes, the slightest lilt to his voice that makes it fall like Ilya says the word. It makes Ilya kiss his head, makes something warm like pride pulse in his chest.

“Good boy” Ilya whispers, a secret for just them and his hand slides up to Shane’s ear, rubs over the shape of it, his earlobe.

Shane shivers against him, yawns so wide it makes his jaw click.

Ilya checks the time again, eyes on Shane’s watch. 6:04pm

“I’ll get you up when we need to go okay?” Ilya mumbles, waits till he feels Shane nod. He wishes he could put Shane on his knees for the next half an hour or so, take his brain out of where it was rattling, but he knows there is no chance Shane would be in the right headspace to work after that. But this, this was good too. A moment of rest, a moment together.

“I’m right here, just rest now” Ilya whispers and pushes his hand up under Shane’s scrubs and his jumper, palm flat against warm skin, rubbing wide steady circles.

Ilya tilts his face down, nose to the top of Shane’s head and closes his eyes, not worried about falling asleep, not when he had the job of looking after his Shane, looking over him while he got to rest with Ilya. A moment of something warm and true and real to take into his shift with him, something Shane could keep tucked against his chest when it got to the seven hour of decision making, being in control, in charge, calculating and compassionate and alert and open and ready.

When it got too much. Like a worry stone Shane could rub his thumb over and over and over and over, smooth from use, this memory of being soft and warm and held. Safe.