take Ilya's dick out of your mouth before you talk

shane: hey :) play better next time best buddy :)

shane and ilya as tumblr text posts part 1 of probably many

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.

He loves bringing Shane a warm towel, helping him wipe down. He loves massaging soap on Shane’s sore, but relaxed muscles in the shower. He loves bringing Shane a snack and feeding him by hand. He loves how boneless Shane goes, how snuggly and warm and carefree.

But he can never shake the feeling of deep regret after each time. He remembers how, for years, he did not do this for Shane. He would let himself indulge just as much as he dared, laying in bed together for a couple minutes, sometimes showering together (but that always ended in shower sex), throwing a towel or clothes at Shane.

The first time he tried to provide the type of aftercare he wanted, was the day Shane left him for Rose Landry. Shane insists he didn't 'leave him for Rose Landry' because A. they weren't together and B. he met Rose weeks later. But since Ilya was the one that got left, he feels entitled to call it how he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Ilya apologized one day, running his hand through a pliant Shane's hair.

"For what?" Shane mumbled.

"For not doing this," Ilya said. "For so many years. For just kicking you out."

Shane sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. "Ilya."

"What?"

"You never just 'kicked me out,'" Shane scrunched up his nose. Adorable. "If you had tried to do this at first, I probably would have freaked out."

"You did freak out," Ilya sulked.

"I did," Shane smiled and leaned up to kiss him. "I love this, you know? I love that you take such good care of me afterwards."

Ilya felt warmth spread inside his chest. "I'm glad."

"But," Shane caught his eye. "I didn't need it. You always took care of me, maybe just not this much. But I never felt, I mean, almost never felt bad afterwards, except, you know."

Vegas. They had talked about that, extensively.

"But, Ilya," Shane continued, cupping his face in his hand. "I don't think that I need this as much as you do."

Ilya considered this for a moment. It was true - this settled Ilya, it convinced him that he did well, he took care of Shane, and made him happy. He didn't hurt him.

"You don't need this?"

"I do," Shane said. "But so do you. So if you're sorry about not doing it, so am I."

"But, I am..."

"You're what?" Shane challenged.

and when shane inevitably starts pushing his hips into ilya's hand, whispering "fuck me, please. please please fuck me. ilya" ilya will shake his head and hold shane tighter and say "I want to watch you" and shane will shiver all over and close his eyes, overwhelmed. he'll let ilya have it. let him just see. the flush that draws to the surface of his skin. the furrow of his brow that makes it look like there's nothing more serious in the world than his pleasure—which ilya believes, wholeheartedly. the wet, warm cave of his mouth as he pants and moans. occasionally, when ilya can bring himself to look down and away from shane's face: the appearance and disappearance of ilya's shiny fingers from and into shane's body, between his strong parted thighs, below his swollen beating cock.

but always always ilya will look up when shane is coming. shane's face in the moments he knows nothing but pleasure is the most beautiful sight in the world to ilya.