#;shane

[TXT Lily]: It can't be that expensive. How drunk are you?

The speed at which Ilya climbs into Shane's lap causes his face to turn bright red, gasping a little as his lips descend upon every inch of skin that he can reach. They haven't seen each other in a while, as is typical, and the hunger is so fucking insatiable. Whenever he sees Ilya on the ice, he can't help but think about what they're going to do later, can't help but feel like he's going to be starved without him. The weight of him in his lap is enough to send a sharp shock of arousal up Shane's spine, a soft whimper escaping him.

"You're killing me, Rozanov," he breathes, tugging at Ilya's shirt and pulling it over his head. Part of him wishes that they could slow down a little, that Shane could take the time to really savor this, but he's always torn between slowing down and just having his fill. His fingers trail down his sides, pressing kisses to his jawline, his neck, tracing down to his chest. This position puts him at a disadvantage in some ways, but at least he's able to admire Ilya like this.

In the Meme Vault

     // Shane is here going ‘I can’t believe my partner doesn’t get along with my friend’ meanwhile said friend is planning genocide aasdfasd

Make your Muse

Thank fuck, the season is finally over.

It's not that Shane is glad to be done playing, rather he's glad to be done with all the social things that come with it. He's been at the end of his rope for a couple weeks now, having more meltdowns than normal, more overstimulated than he cares to admit. Masking is already hard enough. Having to do it by the end of the season feels nearly impossible.

He's glad for some peace and quiet. Shane sits down in his room, headphones on, just reveling in the darkness. He pulls his knees up to his chest and sighs....and then hears his phone buzz.