"So how's jerking off?" "Ma'am I'm at my parents' house." "So constant? Endless?" "Hah. Pretty much."
Oh I'm suuuuure. Shane with his broken clavicle and Ilya with his bruised ribs were absolutely just having the weirdest phone sex that you can possibly imagine. Shane is propped up on seven different pillows because it jostles his collarbone too much if he doesn't stabilize himself on Mount Fluffmore before he starts jerking it--with his NON DOMINANT HAND to be clear. Half of Ilya's hisses are from arousal and half are from pain. They are equally hot. At one point Shane's shoulder slips and he grunts, "Oh fuck," and Ilya's arm (Hand and dick out of frame because Shane once again asked to see his face. But he can hear everything he needs. Fwip fwip fwip) speeds up and he goes, "Oh God. Are you coming? Did you come?" and Shane is like, "No I moved my shoulder wrong fuck" and he's readjusting the pillows (it's a process) and Ilya is still, now just watching, remarkably patient, and Shane says, "You can, uh, keep going," and Ilya says, "No, I can wait," and then Shane settles and Ilya tilts his head and asks Shane to lift up his shirt and show him his tits because he misses them and Shane still has some bruising and honestly it's kind of gnarly but Ilya turns his camera and shows Shane the bloom of bruises up the side of his body and Shane hisses and says, "Fuck that's hot," and Ilya says, "Show me yours," and so Shane's good arm is occupied with holding up his shirt for a little while as Ilya jerks off to his bruise and his armpit hair and then Ilya says, "Touch yourself touch yourself let me see you come," and then Shane does and the pillows slip again while he's coming and the sound of his groan tips Ilya into the kind of full-body-crunch orgasm that jostles every single one of his bruised ribs and they're both saying owww and coming and saying oh fuck ow and coming.
And Shane, who's still catching his breath, says, "Wow, so this is what we could have had if we'd been hooking up during playoffs all these years," because that's the one thing they've always avoided through mutual unspoken agreement. He says this meaning it to be sarcastic but, in the dark of his bedroom with the sound of the lake out the window and Ilya's breath over the speaker, it comes out far too earnest.
And Ilya's, "Mm, yes," is sweet and low and Shane presses a hand to his bruises and imagines it's Ilya's and he can see Ilya's hand moving up and down the bruising on his side and wonders if he's imagining those touches to be from Shane.
And he wants. And he wants.
