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I mean full-on khaki-shorts-wearing, traversing-wilderness-with-nothin'-but-a-machete Adrian who yoinks snakes outta trees and pets swamp puppies and will unflinchingly dig around in elephant faeces for signs of a rare parasitic tapeworm if needed.

Oh, humans eat socially? No problem, Adrian has observed many many animals eat. Did you know that an obscure species of small underground dirt creature from the north side of Erid also eats socially? Adrian can give you a not-so-short presentation on them.

Oh, the human has no external carapace and so its internal sounds are absurdly loud, wet and off-putting? No problem, Adrian was just conducting an expedition last month researching the incredible eridian animal, the Wet Loud Worm from the south-east region of Wet Loud Wormland. They're desensitised, it's fine.

Oh, Grace leaks often from many orifices and it can be a bit of a learning curve to get used to? No problem for Adrian, see Wet Loud Worm paragraph again!

Shane is a pretty flushed needy thing on his knees for Ilya, pressed to the wooden floor in front of the couch, between the wide loose sprawl of Ilya’s legs. Ilya cock is a hard aching thick line in his sweats, the fabric obscenely tented, and Shane’s flushed gorgeous cheek is pressed to it, nuzzling over the fabric. His eyes are big sad brown things, wet in the water line and making his lashes webbed and darker than usual. His pretty boy. Ilya’s hand slides to Shane’s cheek, roughs it in his palm and he uses his thumb to tug at Shane’s top lip, the mauve of it, bitten slick and almost red.

He’d sucked and pulled at it with his teeth and tongue, soothing with his own mouth as Ilya had pushed his fingers inside Shane while he was sat up in his lap. Shane had ridden his fingers desperate and shaky thighed, begging for Ilya to fill him “properly please please Ilya I want you not your fingers I wanna be full” and Ilya had shaken his head, told Shane a soft no, not yet bunny just this and kept curling his fingers to nail Shane’s prostate over and over and over. He’d have no choice but to come soon, Ilya stimulating him like this, without needing so much as a hand on his cock, soon he’d shoot messy between their stomachs. It was fun to watch Shane play like he could hold it off. Like he wanted to hold it off. By the time Shane had cum, he’d been biting at Ilya’s shoulder, shivering against his body, thanking him for his fingers, a hand fisted in Ilya’s curls, tugging, tugging.

And now, now his Shane was a soft aching pulse, how Ilya loved him, a tide to Ilya’s moon, a flower unfolding to his sun. His eyes were heavy as he tried to keep them on Ilya, but they kept blinking slow as he nuzzled his cheek down against the bulge of Ilya’s cock. Sweet thing. Has sweet thing. Ilya tuts and pats Shane’s cheek, soft open handed slaps that make Shane moan, turn his face into Shane’s cock, nuzzle his nose against the hot line of Ilya, lips mouthing gently. “Please” he asks, and Ilya’s heart squeezes, his voice shaky and soft, heavy tongued. His sweetheart.

“Please what Zaychik?” Ilya asks, slides his hand up into Shane’s hair and takes a fistful of it soft and silky, uses it to tilt his head back, neck extended and smiles at the soft whine Shane makes at being pulled away from Ilya’s cock. Fuck Ilya was lucky. A god at his feet, worshiping him. He feels fire in his fingertips. Slides his hand to cup Shane’s chin, thumb rubbing under his ear.

“Please can I have your cock” Shane asks, a low aching tone.

“Please” he utters again, bottom lip pouted out and he scrunches his brow as he pursed his lips and tries to wriggle his face down, get his face back to Ilya’s lap.

“Please Ilya” he sighs and Ilya smiles, his hand takes the back of Shane’s neck as he lets the boy part his lips and nuzzle face first into his hard cock. The drag is his cheek, nose, lips makes Ilya throb.

“You want it?” Ilya asks, and almost feels bad for the eager way Shane nods so quickly.

“Ask me nice, sweetheart, tell me why you need it huh? Why you deserve it” Ilya says low, strokes his hand over the back of Shane’s head, again and again.

“Because, because I love it” Shane mumbles and Ilya’s skin erupts in goosebumps.

“I love it Ilya. I love your cock, I was good, was good and came on your fingers, I waited I waited even thought I love it and I just want you Ilya. Want your cock, please, please” Shane whines, and Ilya is so proud so fucking proud of Shane, feels so fucking needed and wanted it makes him dizzy.

“You love it?” Ilya asks, and wants to drive his body into Shane’s until Shane is part of him, till Shane is loose and gone and warm and Ilya’s. All the way through.

“Uh huh” Shane nods, kisses the shape of Ilya’s cock through the fabric, mouths at the shape of the head.

“Love it. Your cock Ilya love it so much. Love you. I want you I want to make you feel good please I need to feel you I just want it for a little bit I’ve been so good please let me show you, show you how much I love it” Shane gasps and Ilya coos, so full of love, of ache, of need to hear Shane tell him again and again and again. He leans down and kisses the top of Shane’s head, hunched down over him, rubs the back of his neck how he know Shane loves and tilts his head down to whisper in his ear.

“Take it out bunny, show me how much you love it hm? Show me how good are you. So good” he croons and takes Shane’s earlobe between his fingers to rub rub rub, to feel Shane shiver as needy hands scramble to get Ilya’s sweats down- to take his reward. What belongs to him Ilya thinks.

And he can’t wait to make Shane come like this too, desperate and humping his calf with a mouthful of Ilya, before he’d take him on his cock, pin him under his body on the couch and fuck him completely apart as they were pinned as close as possible together, becoming one messy brilliant thing in their devotion to each other.

His Shane who can’t do too many noises his shane who finds some textures wrong, sensations sharp, lights overwhelming. His Shane who likes- needs things soft, his Shane who pushes, works, flourishes under fluorescent lights and on a ice cold rink and in skates that pinch, heavy layers of gear, gets pushed and slammed and then asked and photographed and posed. His Shane who needs things soft but lives in hard for so much of his time, for so long because of his passion for hockey, because he wants to fit in, because he wants to be good. Because the world isn’t made to be soft for him and he seems to accept it. His Shane who exhausts himself existing a lot of the time because it’s out of his comfort.

Ilya, however doesn’t think of one thing he wouldn’t try and change with his own to hands to make Shane feel safe, good. To make Shane realise he doesn’t always have to be good, that the world could owe him and accommodate go him to make it better. Ilya would bend anything to his will to make even one thing easier for Shane. And it’s small things at the start, he replaces his sheets in Boston with the ones Shane had at the cottage, at his apartment in Montreal (because he had been listening to Shane explain the high thread count and the softness of them even when he’d been pretending to shrivel up and die on the soft while Shane did laundry, he had been listening because he loves the boring Shane Hollander who cares deeply about the sheets he sleeps on).

Then it’s other easy things, tossing shirts and hoodies of his that seem to personally offend Shane. (He figures out quickly that it’s the synthetic and silk fibres that Shane hates most) and really it’s no chore because he loves the way Shane curls up into him like a content cat nuzzling his face into Ilyas shirt when it’s a fabric he likes (or even better, the best when Shane comes downstairs dressed in ilyas hoodie, sweat pants, his smile still a little shy all these years in like he’s getting away with something, like Ilya wouldn’t offer his heart from his own chest for Shane). Easy still to keep buying the body wash that Shane had loved, almost scentless but a clean soapy faint spicy smell, to get dimmers on all the light fixtures in his house in Boston (then in Ottawa). Easy to keep the volume a couple clicks lower on the action scenes in the movies he’s watching, to keep the bedroom cool and to play the games on his phone on mute.

It becomes natural to give Shane squeezes firm and strong on the back of his neck when he starts to get a bit too worked up, hands a little frantic (planning, talking, fighting, fucking). Its second nature to lay on top of Shane when he’s fidgeting while they try to relax (Shane is so bad at relaxing) to press his head to his chest and let his full body weight help sink Shane into the touch. He doesn’t even notice anymore letting Shane play with his fingers, his jumpers, his curls, fingers working soothing circles. (He really loves indulging Shane’s oral fixation, he’d feel greedy if he didn’t know how badly Shane needed it too, how he goes all glossy eyes and pliant and happy, sweet and calm and in his skin so comfortably with his mouth full of fingers or cock or Ilyas tongue. But also sometimes it’s Shane falling asleep after sex with ilyas thumb in his mouth, sucking it for comfort. Ilyas knows Shane won’t let himself have that unless it’s after sex, then he can hide it under being fucked out rather than desire. They don’t talk about it, but Ilya adores when Shane pulls his hand to his mouth just for that. He feels so needed, so good to help soothe shane)

There are bigger things that are harder to change, press conferences, lights of cameras, chaos of photoshoots, award nights where for so long Ilya just has to watch from a distance as his Shane winds up tighter and tighter and tighter because it’s all wrong (wrong sounds sights smells, too much too much) for Shane and Ilya has to wait and wait until they are finally alone and he can undo it for him, bring him back to himself safe and warm and comfortable, Ilyas. When he can be by his husbands side he does what he can to bend these to his will too, to offer the rookies or himself to do press after a long game or when he can see the twitch in Shane’s jaw the quiet of his eyes that tell ilyas he’s already a long way away in his head.

He keeps Shane tucked close to him at awards, gives them breaks away from it outside under the guise of him needing a smoke break. He enjoys it, caring for Shane, being the one to make a place for his boy to shine. To see his laugh soft and genuine with their teammates when they are out instead of it being tight and skittering. Love when Shane is relaxed enough to make jokes or indulge Ilya in a soft kiss, softened by not having to have his protective walls up from being overwhelmed.

It’s so easy, in a club or bar, to pull Shane into him, fit his head to his chest and to cradle Shane’s head in his large palm, hand fitted over his ear to muffle sounds, so worth it for the way Shane melts into him a little more, the way Shane can stay out longer and enjoy himself when Ilya makes it right for him.

Ask part 2 important followup I do feel that the rush would come after ilya “one million check-ins” rozanov made sure shane was okay and emotional-release crying not pain-overwhelm-bad crying and Then something would snap in his brain about making thee shane hollander cry on his cock

Ok sugar. YES see I have 2 ideas about it all of like when it happened. Like if the first time Shane cried was during the situationship hook up phase then yes yes yes completely I love your vision. Like maybe it’s been one of those times they’ve gone a few rounds, and Shane is all shivery and sensitive and Ilya is fucking him on his stomach, Shane pressed flat to the bed and he’s so fucking deep shane feels like the only part of him that exists is where Ilya splits him open, where he touches him.

The world has narrowed down to that. The metros had won the match and the win had felt fucking good, it always did, but the usual congratulations from his team, all the people that orbited around him, but somehow it has left Shane with his buzzing ache. He only wanted to know what one person thought about it in the end- he’d be rushing back to his apartment to see Ilya and he wanted to feel him, feel the loss in Ilya how it made him rougher- but he wants to hear the few words he’d give Shane about it. If he thought it was deserved or not. Shane had felt oddly alone on his drive home from the game that night, unsure why.

And now, now Rozanov is melting him into the bed, talking him apart and he’s not even in his body, he’s not in the ache of his thighs or legs from his shifts, from the hits, he is not Shane Hollander in his body he is pleasure. He is saturated in bliss, he is where he takes Ilya and nothing else. He doesn’t want to be anything else. Shane’s heart is rabbiting, he’s squirming and Ilya’s hands grip his hips and pull him back into his punishing thrusts and mutters out “so fucking good” and behind Shane’s eyes start burning. He squeezes them shut.

He’s being so stupid. Why the fuck does he feel like he’s going to cry. Shane turns his face further into the bed, swallows hard hard and bites his lips and he’s close and he wants to cum and he wants to cry he wants to cry. Ilya’s hand smooths down Shane’s back, finds the back of his neck and grips, grips, thumb rubbing at the short hair there.

“So fucking good for my cock huh Hollander? Good for me” Ilya growls fucks his hips harder, deeper and his thick cock presses in to Shane’s prostate over and over, nails the sensitive part of him that makes his whole body ache his whole body die come back to life gives him that divine ache that exists nowhere else in the world and it’s fucking good and he needs this feeling forever he doesn’t ever want to loose this feeling this pleasure, this is where he exists and the feeling fizzes so suddenly, that between one blink in the next Shane has wetness on his cheeks.

He whines, upset at the loss of control, turns his face into the bed as Ilya fucksfucksfucks him into it, the sound of it loud in the room, the wet click of the lube, the shift of the sheets. Shane rubs his face into it try to wipe the tears away and he’s shaking, pushes the soft skin below his thumb and above his wrist between his lips and chews on it, the tears keep coming, the pleasure keeps coming, heavy big fucking waves in up and over him, through his whole body, from his toes to his cock and the base of his spine.

So fucking good Shane thinks

For me Shane thinks

Good for me good for me good for me Shane thinks

And his lashes are clumping together and his hands are shaky, he tries to focus, pushes his hips back and up into Ilya, but his body aches and he can’t hold it, then tries to push onto his knees, wobbles and slides forward back into the bed.

Ilya’s hands are on his ass, then glide down to his sides, one big hand rubs by his ribs, big warm circles.

“Let me do it hollander” Ilya grumbles and Shane says nothing, biting at his own skin of his hand, and his eyes wet the sheets under him. Ilya stops his thrusts and Shane whines, whines, a heartbroken sound, he can’t help it- why the fuck did he stop it’s good it’s so fucking good.

“Sh sh” Ilya replies and then he’s laying over Shane and Shane is tucking his face to the opposite side, kicks his leg in a silent hurry up, he needs it he needs it back it was so good he was being so good why did Ilya stop. Shane starts to push his hips back back back, up, chasing a thrust, chasing Ilya’s cock. He needs. He fucking needs this. He needs this. He stutters a breath and tears are hot down his cheeks and he slides his hand out of his mouth to pull in a deeper breath.

“Hey” Ilya is there then, his face hovering over Shane’s shoulder and his hand is gripping Shane’s face and tugging till he can see him, wet cheeked and heavy eyed, fuzzy.

Ilya is big frown and serious and “bad?” He asks in that short direct way when he wants an answer now.

“No no” Shane babbles, shakes his head. Terrified at the concept of Ilya pulling out its just- it’s nothing - he’s just so close and he just- he needs. He was being good.

“Good, good, Rozanov it’s. Just fuck me- I just it’s nothing just fuck me come on” Shane forces out, in fear of being empty.

And then, once Ilya has looked at him for a blink longer, his thumb tracing the line of a hot tear with a dark look in his eyes, where it lands by Shane’s lips.

“Okie” Ilya says, grips Shane’s face and holds it there in video and goes back to deep rolling hard thrusts, the type that make Shane’s breath punch out in gasping half sounds and oh fuck. Thank you. Shane thinks and lets his eyes roll back into his head, eyes shut and lets go, let’s go because Ilya is gripping him.

“Good?” He hears Ilya ask and Shane nods, nods, good he’s being good, this is good, he’s good for Ilya, this is so fucking good. And he shivers and tears are dripping off his nose and chin.

“Fuck Hollander, like cock so much it makes you cry huh? So pretty, needy boy” Ilya cooes over him and Shane is falling apart he’s cutting off into galaxys, he’s a heartbeat and nothing else. He’s whatever Ilya does to him. Shane is nodding, still, trying to tell Ilya he’s. Yes it’s good he’s I like it so much yes I’m needy.

Rozanov is laid over him, heavy weight on him and Shane’s going to cum- he’s going to cum against the sheets and then Ilya is licking over his cheeks, the salt tracks is Shane’s tears and Shane just implodes. Comes so hard it pulls all of his body into and out of it. Leaves him shaking, an ache on the bed and then Rozanov is licking licking licking into his mouth and Shane wonders if he did die, at some point during that. If he’ll come back, if he’ll stop crying.

Ilya stays inside him too long, spends time he doesn’t have kissing Shane into the sheets, carries him to the shower with the tease of telling Shane is “lazy hockey boy making his hookup do the all the work” he rinses Shane off and places him in the bed, smacks a kiss to his cheek and ruffles his hair and then has to rush to get back in his clothes- he needs to go, he should have already left.

Shane chugs a sports drink, thrown at him by Ilya from his own fridge just before he’d left, it had hit his shoulder hard actually- the fucker.

I collaborated with the Human Artistry Project to make this strip alongside other web cartoonists to make the point that “Stealing isn’t Innovation” when it comes to A.I. usage. It seems to be doing numbers on instagram and elsewhere, so you may also read it here, tumblr.