#ilya x reader

toronto, canada. january.

“You liked it, yes?”

Ilya pushes off the sink and spins all in one go, hunching over the basin to spit the froth of toothpaste from his mouth. Shane rubs his palms over his chest, Ilya’s favorite lotion smearing with every movement. He’ll go to bed smelling like boyfriend, as Ilya so sweetly puts it.

“Yes,” Shane murmurs quietly, glancing at his boyfriend’s back flexing over the sink. The broad expanse of his shoulders. He wants to bite him—always.

Ilya taps his toothbrush against the sink and tosses Shane a blank stare in the mirror. “Yes? You are so specific.”

Shane chuckles, running his fingers through the front of his hair. The black strands sweep back only to flop down again, perfectly mussed and beautiful. Ilya lets his eyes travel down the sculpted surface of Shane’s chest and stomach as he plucks a flossing stick in his mouth.

“What do you want me to say?”

Blurting the details of his sexploits wasn’t common for Shane. Ilya knew this well. But things had changed. He had a sexploit, for instance. A sexploit with a woman. And she slept in their bed sandwiched between them, ate a full breakfast spread cooked by a shirtless Shane and a naked Ilya, and ate it at their breakfast nook in one of his old Boston Raiders t-shirts. Were they supposed to pretend it never happened?

Were they supposed to pretend Ilya hadn’t caught Shane scrolling through her Instagram the other night? Watching her stories every day, keeping his thumb over the screen to make them last longer?

Ilya couldn’t have that.

“Uh, I don’t know. You loved having your cock sucked by a woman, you had fun—anything.”

A soft sigh hisses through Shane’s teeth, clenched in an uneasy, bashful grin.

Why is it so embarrassing? He’s been with women before. Well, one woman, and it didn’t go well. So why was this time so different? Maybe because she knew about him. His love for Ilya, their commitment to each other. She knew and she still liked him, was still attracted to him. She knew and she wanted both of them, together.

Did this make him any less gay? Did attraction to one woman make him bisexual? It's all so confusing, and if he thinks about it for too long, it makes his head hurt.

Ilya can practically see this, the dark storm clustering in Shane’s thoughts. He slides behind him, arms heavy around his waist. He tucks his chin over Shane’s shoulder and presses a noisy kiss to his neck.

“It does not have to mean anything. Can just be sex, you know? Can be just for fun.”

Shane lets his eyes close, lets Ilya bear his weight back against his chest. He holds him steady and firm, just the two of them there in the bathroom.

“Doesn’t that make us…I don’t know, shitty? Like, just some gross guys who fuck around?”

Ilya lifts his head, and Shane doesn’t need to open his eyes to see the expression awaiting him in the mirror. Pure confusion and exasperation. Ilya used to be that gross, shitty guy who fucked around. But what was so bad about sex anyway? Ilya never understood the repression of the Canadians. He grew up in Russia, for fuck’s sake, and he’s pretty sure he’s had more fun than all of Canada combined.

“Shane—“

Shane opens his eyes and sighs. “I just…I don’t want to date her. I don’t want to be, like, a throuple or something—“

Ilya keeps his gaze in the mirror, steady and understanding. Patient, nonjudgmental. Shane can’t be pushed into anything, but he’d never push him into something like this.

“But you want to fuck her.”

Shane eases back into Ilya again. “Yes. Y-yeah! But…I don’t know, I just feel shitty about it.”

“But is normal.”

“She’s a person. We can’t just…use her whenever we want.”

The sentence alone zings through Shane like an ice shock. Ilya hums, massaging his hands into Shane’s hips. The sound reverberates through him.

“We could ask her. See what she likes.”

Shane lets his head fall back against Ilya’s shoulder, their temples touching. “I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

Ilya groans dramatically, and fixes Shane with a pointed look. “She is tough girl. Is surprising, but true.”

It might’ve surprised Shane before she graced their bedroom. If Ilya had introduced them as friends, if Shane had never fucked her throat until she spluttered and cried and gagged and then kissed all over his face when she gathered her breath. If she hadn’t giggled and conversed so casually about their water pressure when she emerged from the bathroom with one of their towels on her head and Ilya’s shirt draped down to her thigh. Shane saw the bruises, saw the marks they both left. And she said nothing, did nothing but settle into their night and break away from their morning the next day.

Shane knew just how tough Bunny was—but he knew how tough he wasn't.

“No,” Shane sighs, shaking his head. “It was just a one time thing.”

Ilya lets it sit there a moment, waiting for Shane to second guess himself. When he only rubs his hands over Ilya’s against his stomach and nods affirmatively, Ilya pops a kiss on Shane’s cheek and nods back.

“Okay. One time thing. Come to bed.”

It takes the morning to bring Shane to clarity. As Ilya snoozes in the crook of his side, arm thrown over his lap lazily, and Shane rests against the headboard with his glasses perched on his nose and his phone in his hand; on his screen, scrolling at glacial pace, is Bunny’s Instagram page. He scrolls, refreshes, clicks through the highlights, reads through the comments—and it feels like an obsession. Like he’s waiting for something new to pop up just so he can feel the surprise of seeing her face.

“You sure only one time?”

Shane jumps, phone flying somewhere near the edge of the bed. His neck snaps as he turns to find Ilya blinking up at him, lips curled into a smirk. He sighs, waiting for his heart rate to slow down before pushing at Ilya’s head in playful reprimand.

“I wasn’t—“

“Stalking poor girl?”

“I wasn’t,” Shane huffs petulantly.

Ilya snickers, rolling onto his back. His hands raise toward the headboard as he stretches his arms, and his muscles flex and lengthen beautifully. Shane can’t help but lean over and lick a stripe up the center of his abdomen, making Ilya chuckle as he buries his fingers in the back of Shane’s hair.

“I will call her today.”

And Shane doesn’t argue this time. He gathers his phone from the end of the mattress and slips out of bed, hiding a giddy grin in the bathroom door as it snicks shut.

♡♡♡

She brings wine. A brand new bottle with a red bow on top, and she’s dressed in a business-formal outfit that makes Shane fantasize about being the prime minister. Tight black skirt, tighter black top, black nylons that have a faded plaid pattern. Her shoes click over the hard floors of Shane’s condo as she hurries in her bunny fashion through the entryway.

“Hiii. Sorry I’m a little late, work ran over. And when did this snow start? It’s like—oh!”

Ilya braces her jaw with one large palm and drops a gentle kiss on her open mouth. She pauses where he stops her, just before the kitchen where Shane sits at the marble island with a beer. He’s only taken one sip and it was only because he didn’t know what to do with his hands while they waited.

Ilya detaches from her mouth with a soft, wet click, and she blinks up at his sly smirk dazedly. “Hello, Bunny,” he purrs.

“Hi.”

He gives her cheeks a little squeeze before releasing her, turning on his heel to join Shane in the kitchen. The latter watches her linger in the entryway, swaying with her wine and a ridiculously large purse. Various folders and books peek from the bulging zipper.

“Hi,” Shane greets her, and he’s not sure if he should at least hug her after that display.

Bunny blinks and steps forward, entering the kitchen. She sets her purse on a stool and the wine on the island and beams at Shane, settled in her Ilya-inflicted fluster. Shane knows that fuzzy feeling well.

“Hi, Mr. Hollander.”

Shane laughs, pushing off his stool to stand. “Shane. You don’t have to keep calling me that—it’s just Shane.”

Bunny drops her mouth into a pout that gives Shane pause on his ascent to wrap his arms around her. She completes the transaction, looping her own arms around his waist. Her chin touches his chest and it feels like his breath fizzles under it.

“I thought you liked Mr. Hollander.”

Shane lets his arms fall around her, giving her a firm squeeze. “I-I do. I totally do—“

“I’m messing with you, Shane. But I’ll call you whatever you want, baby.”

She perks up on the tops of her tiny heels to plant a kiss on his jaw, and then all too soon, she’s letting him go. He inhales shakily as Bunny swoops up the wine and rounds the island for the cabinets.

She passed Ilya, who tucks his chin over his shoulder to watch her open a cabinet and perk to her tiptoes again, reaching up high for the wine glasses. Neither help her and maybe only Shane feels like an asshole for it, but they like to watch her skirt ride up and her shirt slip free, exposing a sliver of skin.

Ilya turns to Shane and quirks a brow, lip caught between his teeth. Shane is so fucking glad he called her and Ilya can tell. There’s a certain buttery bliss to his face. A fucked-out euphoria and he hasn’t even been fucked yet. Ilya knows what that looks like all too well.

“Bunny?” Ilya coos, still holding Shane’s gaze.

“Yeah?” She sets the glasses down and fumbles through the drawers for an opener.

Shane doesn’t even mind that she’s making herself at home. It almost adds to the excitement bubbling in his chest. She’s so sure of herself, so quietly confident. Only Ilya seems to realize the same thing of Shane.

“Come here.”

His voice drops to that dangerous octave. An animalistic growl, a grumble that makes his accent almost ridiculous. The commanding tone that got Shane’s pants to come off all those years ago. The very same that turned Bunny into the depraved individual she becomes in his presence.

Said girl closes the drawer next to the fridge slowly. It shuts with a gentle clunk. She slides the wine bottle to sit against the wall—can never be too safe. And all the while, Ilya waits patiently. Hands bracing the island across from Shane, still watching him intently while they wait.

Bunny takes small steps toward the island. When she reaches Ilya’s side, Shane lets his gaze slide her way. She chews on the inside of her cheek, lips twisted sideways. They’re glossy again, glimmering with something pink that he can almost taste in memory. She plucks at the sleeves of her skirt over her knuckles. She’s nervous. It fills Shane with an indescribable hum of anticipation.

“Take off your clothes.”

Shane snaps his attention back to Ilya, eyes bulging. “Ilya, you can’t—“

Ilya inhales steadily and pulls off the island, turning to Bunny as she falters. “You had fun with us, yes? Few weeks ago?”

Bunny’s eyes flit between Shane and Ilya, and she swallows when she nods. Tucks her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, of course.”

“And you want to do it again, da?”

Ilya catches her hand as it drops from her hair, taking her fingers to bring them to his mouth. A gentle kiss puckered against her knuckles. Enclosed in his palm, he brings her wrist up next, another kiss against her pulse point. Bunny steps a little closer, one hollow click of heel against the floor.

“Yes,” she gasps. “I was just waiting for the call.”

Shane inhales. Ilya smiles against her wrist and lets it drop, returning to her side.

“Then you’ll do as I say, yes? Take off your clothes. You, too, Hollander.”

Shane and Bunny lock eyes. A silent and brief conversation between gazes. Does she want this as much as he does? Does he want her back? Does she think about their kiss, his cock in her mouth? Does he think about her tongue, her touch? How long can they share Ilya, each other, before it gets messy?

It doesn’t matter. They’re here now and they’re drunk with the buzz of impending pleasure. It’s almost as good as the real thing, the actual euphoria. The buildup, the suspense, the foreplay of three people preparing to fuck.

Shane moves first. Pinches the thin cotton of his t-shirt at the nape of his neck and pulls it over his head. He reveals the taut lines and clean-cut muscle of the bronzed canvas Bunny’s been dreaming about. At her desk at work, when afternoons run long and her mind drifts to dangerous thoughts. His hot mouth over her body, his body pinning her down, his beautiful, whiny moan.

Bunny pulls at the zipper on her skirt teasingly slow. It falls at her feet, concealed by the island from Shane, but Ilya watches it pool around those dainty shoes on the floor. He watches quietly and contently, standing in the shadows in wait.

Shane’s sweatpants are next, salaciously grey and loose around the hips. They reveal a pair of tight black boxers, branded around the band. His cock strains against the material and Bunny’s heart thumps at the sight. The surface of her mouth grows sweet. She can recall the heavy weight of that cock in her mouth, on her tongue. The salty warmth of his skin. The heavy breaths dropped from a slack mouth, all rosy wet lips and airy groans. She loved bringing him to that.

Bunny slips her arms free from her shirt and tosses it over her head. It joins the skirt on the floor, and the men are pleased by the splash of color beneath it. The fiery red of the lace concealing what will be next. What Ilya loves to put in his mouth, feel with his teeth to hear her squeal. What Shane wondered about last time, when Ilya had her pulled back by her hair, when her hard nipples were staring Shane in the face begging to be touched.

Ilya directs his gaze to Shane. He hooks his thumbs into his boxers and slides them down his thighs, nudging them aside with his foot once they’re free. His hard cock bobs to attention, pink at the tip and weeping just gently. Ilya groans and Bunny gasps.

“Take the rest,” Ilya commands, motioning to Bunny’s remaining garments.

The tights are a slightly less sexy removal, when they bunch and roll at the feet and leave indentations around her thighs. But they barely notice when her bra unclips and slides down her arms, and her panties wilt somewhere in the skirt on the floor to leave smooth, bare skin.

“Mm.” Ilya’s satisfaction is deep and throaty. He steps closer to Bunny, cupping one hand around her left breast. The flesh dimples with the pressure of his touch, nipple grazing his palm and delivering a shudder through Bunny.

She gasps when he kneads, taking as much as he can into his hand. Ilya cocks his head, fitting his mouth over her nipple. His teeth slide over the sensitive bud and she permits him that wonderful sound. Her heels click together, stomp a little on the ground. Her hands fly to his hair and grab hold, but her eyes never leave Shane.

She watches Shane stroke his hand up and down his cock with that parted, pouty mouth. That crease between his brows. The face she’s been dreaming about.

Ilya pulls from Bunny’s tit with a wet pop. He massages over the teeth marks in her flesh with one hand, reaching for the right side with the other to give her nipple a tug. “I have missed these.”

Bunny hiccups around air. Another stomp of heels. Shane wants her to wear them the whole night, he realizes. He wants to see them in the air, against her ass, maybe up by her ears. Jesus. There was a new thought.

“Mm, now me,” Ilya says. “Bunny, you start here.”

He taps his chest, the collar of a green t-shirt. He drops his hands to his sides and it almost thrills her to know he’ll be of no help. He likes when she earns it. Shane does, too.

Bunny slips her hands under the fabric, sliding the full surface of her palms up his stomach, over his chest. Ilya snickers, watching her over the slope of his nose. She hoists the hem of the shirt over his head and he lifts his arms to release them. A waft of his cologne, something smoky and rich, comes with the removal. His cross falls to his chest, slightly askew.

“Now you, Hollander. Here.” Ilya taps his belt and Shane comes rushing like a trained dog.

He fumbles with the leather, pulling free from his belt loops. The buckle tinkles as it unlatches, the leather whooshes as it leaves his hips to thud loose on the ground.

And Bunny is kissing Ilya’s chest. Loud, full-lipped kisses that travel over the top of his pecs, along his collarbones, down in the dip of abdomen muscles. Shane feels like he can’t catch a proper breath as he unbuttons Ilya’s jeans and pulls them down his hips.

He’s on his knees then, taking Ilya’s boxers with him. Mimicking Bunny’s affections with open-mouthed explorations along Ilya’s pelvis, his thighs, across his hip bones.

Ilya hums, cupping one hand around each head that approaches him. Feeling Bunny’s hair between his fingers, Shane’s raven locks under his palm. They move like twin snakes, slithering around his body to feel his flesh against their tongues.

Bunny drags a thick, wet stripe down his stomach until she joins Shane on her knees before Ilya. Down there, she can feel Shane’s warmth. Her shoulder against his elbow, their knees touching, the back of his knuckles grazing her thigh. She wants him to touch her again, to grab her in that sweet, oddly possessive way.

But Ilya’s grabbing his cock and holding it between them, and she knows they have a job to do.

“Tongues out, puppies,” Ilya coos.

Shane scoffs, shaking his head amusedly at his boyfriend. “Don’t be a dick.”

“Yes, but you want mine in your mouth, Hollander. You too, Bunny?”

Shane turns to the girl beside him to see her mouth already open, tongue held out flat. She nods eagerly, hands bracing her thighs.

“Fuck,” Shane whispers, watching Ilya touch the tip of his cock to Bunny’s waiting tongue.

“She listens,” Ilya says.

Shane redirects, facing Ilya again with his tongue out as far as it can stretch. Ilya rubs his cock a little longer on Bunny’s tongue before giving it to Shane, repeating the same gentle graze and wander in his mouth.

Bunny leans forward and kisses his hip, his thigh, the length of his cock that isn’t in Shane’s mouth. Ilya groans, dropping his hand to the base of her skull. His fingers nestle in her hair, palm heavy to pull her close.

Shane closes his mouth around the head of Ilya’s cock, humming deeply. Ilya gasps, now clutching Shane’s head, too. Holding them together, feeling like a god being worshipped above them.

Shane hollows his cheeks and bobs his head, Ilya’s cock heavy in his mouth, prodding the back of his throat. Bunny slides her tongue along the length of it and Shane moans around Ilya when it touches his top lip. So she does it again. She licks at the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip. She coaxes him with small whimpers, with the turn of her body a little more toward Shane, her knee sliding between his, her hands breezing up his thighs.

Breath whooshes through him, and his hands shoot out to grip her waist. His thumbs press into her stomach, his eyes watching her in his peripheral as Ilya’s cock bulges in his cheek. Ilya chuckles—he gets to have his cake and eat it, too. Watch their playful interactions and still have his dick sucked. It was fun to watch them learn each other.

Shane pulls off Ilya, swollen-lipped and pink-cheeked. It’s another moment of pleasant surprise when he grips the back of Bunny’s hair and yanks her over Ilya’s cock, shoving her head down half the length.

“Oh, fuck,” the Russian moans, placing his hand over Shane’s on Bunny’s head.

They listen to her throat click wetly, glugging around his length when it hits too deep. Shane realizes, as he sits there just to see her eyes brim with tears and her hands clench into fists, that he enjoys watching her work. That he likes to hear her sounds. His cock throbs achingly at the remembrance of her mouth on him.

“Ah, hold her still, Shane. Going to fuck her throat.”

Shane shuffles over the floor, pressing himself to Bunny’s back. Their sticky skin clings together with heat and sweat and she can feel his cock against her ass and she whines around Ilya. Shane hooks his arms around her waist, grazes his fingers against her sex for the very first time. She’s so fucking soft and warm there and he itches to explore it more.

But Ilya’s using Shane’s shoulder as a prop for Bunny’s head, for a place for it to rest as he begins to piston down her throat. Her mouth stretches wide to accommodate him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. Shane cranes his head to watch it, to watch the spit and cum trickle down her chin and gather on her chest. He’s not even thinking when he sweeps his hand over her throat, clutching her jaw to keep her still, holding her up for his boyfriend to use. He can feel Ilya's cock bulge through her throat against his palm and it's obscenely hot.

We can’t just use her whenever we want.

Oh, but can’t they?

Ilya’s breath is labored, huffed through his nose in heavy gusts. Shane tips his gaze up to watch him turn a bright shade of red all over. The vein in his forehead makes an appearance as his ass tenses, his hips stilling to keep his cock deep in Bunny’s throat.

“Ohh,” he groans, “take it, Bunny. Take all of it.”

Shane watches her now, blinking wetly up at Ilya as he cums down her throat. She’s clutching onto Shane’s hands like a lifeline, his fingers still just resting over her clit. She bucks up into them, grinds a little against his hand. Ilya’s softened cock slips from her mouth with a trail of slick, a string of spit.

Bunny swallows thickly and Ilya spreads two fingers in the corners of her mouth.

“Open,” he demands.

She holds her tongue out to show her empty mouth and Shane moans, pressing his head to her jaw. His fingers rub a little at her clit, encouraging the jerk of her thigh and the sharp gasp against Ilya’s prying fingers.

“Good girl,” Ilya purrs, and his eyes finally fall to Shane’s hand between her thighs. “Ah, Hollander, you are already step ahead.”

He still has his fingers in her mouth and it should make her flush with humiliation—but it only makes her grind up against Shane even more. Shane keeps his touch featherlight and she wonders if he’s doing it on purpose. If he’s learned his cruelty from the best.

Ilya grips Bunny’s chin with his other hand and jerks her head toward Shane. “Spit in her mouth.”

Shane pauses for only a moment, searching Ilya’s gaze for confirmation. He blinks back slowly. So Shane turns, puckers his lips, and spits directly into Bunny’s open mouth.

The poor girl whines and almost waits for more, but Ilya jerks her back to face him and hunches over, committing his boyfriend’s spit with an obscene smack of his own on her tongue.

“Swallow, Bunny. Good girl.” Ilya removes his fingers from her mouth and massages her throat, sure to be sore and aching.

Shane presses a little harder on her clit, circling smoothly. He runs the tip of his nose over her wet cheek, ghosts his open mouth along her jaw.

“Good girl,” he mimics in a whisper.

Ilya smiles, already tugging on his cock as it stands back to attention. “Bunny is lucky girl. Mr. Hollander really likes you.”

“I do,” Shane rushes out, kissing down Bunny’s jaw. His mouth travels down her neck and his hand sweeps further back between her thighs, dipping the tip of two fingers into the wetness gathered there.

Her head falls back against his shoulder, back arching off his chest. “Shane, please.”

“Please what, Bunny? Tell him,” Ilya directs, stroking himself faster.

She struggles a minute and Shane doesn’t do much to help. He’s found a spot inside her that’s warm and gushy and she releases this throaty moan every time he prods at it, and he can’t stop making her make that sound. He can’t stop wanting to hear it in his ear, coming from that swollen, spit-smeared mouth.

“Come on,” Shane coaxes, but he reaches even deeper, presses until his knuckles are flush against her clit. “Tell me what you want, Bunny.”

This is so unfair, she thinks. Ilya stands above her tugging at his cock so close to her face she can feel every move of his hand in the air. Shane’s touching her, fucking her so deep that she feels it in the pit of her stomach. It’s been better than she imagined, having the two of them pass her around. They could stop right here and she’d go home feeling like a lucky girl.

But she doesn’t want it to stop. She wants more.

“I want to cum,” she gasps. “Please, Shane, make me cum.”

He picks up the pace, curling his fingers and tugging them in and out fast enough to hear it. She clutches his forearm, head thrown back in agony, writhing about between his strong arms.

“She is almost there,” Ilya says, watching Bunny squirm like a caged animal.

Keeping his fingers at pace, Shane lifts his other hand and knocks Bunny’s head aside. He captures her mouth, and it’s like he’s swallowing her whole. His tongue inside her mouth, his lips claiming hers with bruising pressure. But even with the muffle of Shane’s lips, the sound that leaves her as she trembles and cums right there on the kitchen floor is deafening.

Shane moans into her mouth, relieving her when she shoves at his still prodding hand. His fingers are slick and he can still feel her pulsing against the heel of his palm.

He detaches from her mouth with a soft click, and she collapses into him with small, labored gasps. He allows his eyes to open, to admire the glow over her face as she catches her breath. How gorgeous she looks with a warm swell in her cheeks, bits of hair sticking up.

“My god, you are like tortured animal,” Ilya announces.

Bunny scoffs tiredly and Shane smacks at Ilya’s thigh.

“Is okay, I like it. Means Hollander did a good job, yes?”

Bunny nods dumbly, running her hand over Shane’s arm. Her eyes are still closed. “Very good.”

They wait for her to catch her breath. Shane leaves small kisses, peppered across her face, until he feels the signifiant cool down in her skin. Ilya strokes his hand over Shane’s hair, sweeps his thumb across his cheek.

“She’s tired,” Shane whispers, the back of his knuckles petting her cheek.

“‘m okay,” Bunny protests. “Just give me a minute—“

“Shh, just relax. Come on, we’ll open the wine.”

Shane twists the cork as Ilya hoists Bunny over his shoulder, running down the hall toward the bedroom. Shane follows the sound of her distant laughter, the muffled sound of Ilya’s playful growl and a mix of English and Russian exclamations.

Does Bunny know Russian, too? Shane doesn’t even know. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about her. What exactly she does for work, because she only posts selfies from her desk and the occasional book stack. If she’s seeing anyone else, because he never sees her with other men online.

“Shaaane, where is wine?” Ilya whines from the bedroom.

“Coming!”

Shane gathers three wine glasses—stems-up—in one hand and the wine bottle in the other. He takes his time making his way to the bedroom, a nervous pitter patter tapping away in his chest. He can hear the soft murmurs of the two of them in the bedroom: the low grumble of Ilya’s accent and the sweet melody of Bunny’s honey voice.

He nudges the door open and peeks around. Bunny’s sprawled out on the end of the bed, stomach shuddering under Ilya’s wandering hand. He runs it up and down her stomach, ghosting between her thighs only to pull away. She has her arms above her head, reaching for the heavens and smiling while she does it. That coy little grin, bottom lip tucked between her teeth; the grin she gave Shane before his dick entered her mouth that first time. When it was just the two of them sharing a small secret of her tongue touching him first.

“Ah, there he is. Come.” Ilya pats the bed beside him and Bunny cranes her head back to beam at Shane.

He returns it, but he doesn’t join Ilya on the bed. He stops before Bunny at the edge of the mattress and passes Ilya the wine to free up one hand, which he uses to grip her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re playing without me,” he says, and it’s a statement. As much of a statement as Shane’s gentle voice can make.

He feels her flush under his touch and his favorite grin flitters over her face again. “Never.”

Ilya cocks his head, admiring the lines of his boyfriend’s body when he bends in half to capture Bunny’s mouth. Gentle and sweet and only a little tongue. It makes her insides feel like liquid.

“I have an idea,” Ilya announces, leaning to put the wine bottle on the nightstand.

“Shocker,” Shane mumbles into Bunny’s mouth. He licks at her bottom lip before standing straight.

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Do you want to hear it or keep kissing?”

Shane and Bunny share a small smile and side-eye. Ilya huffs, and Bunny squeals when he grabs her by the ankles and yanks her away from Shane. She’s hoisted into his lap, their bare sexes pressing together and bringing immediate hardness to Ilya’s cock. But he keeps one hand firm on her ass and it doesn’t plan on moving to fuck her. Not yet.

“Now you will listen, yes?”

Bunny nods and Ilya’s eyes slide to Shane, who chuckles. “Yes.”

“What if we all fuck each other?”

There’s a pause. Bunny looks up at Ilya, does her best to peer back at Shane.

“Well…yeah, isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Shane scratches at the nape of his neck.

Ilya rolls his eyes again. “Yes, but I mean—fuck. You fuck her, and I fuck you at same time.”

Shane lights up like a Christmas tree, all red and hot and pulsing. He swallows and even Bunny can hear it. “Oh.”

“Is good idea, yes?”

Bunny twists to see Shane, her cheek pressing to Ilya’s as she goes, and they sit there together with their faces touching and their eyes on Shane.

“Shane, would you…like that?”

Shane’s eyes flit down to her ass, arched over Ilya’s lap, and he doesn’t pretend to think, or even give himself time to think. It feels good to stop thinking.

“Yes.”

Ilya trails his fingers over the length of Bunny’s spine. “Yes what?”

Shane puts the wine glasses on the dresser and turns around. “I want to fuck you, Bunny. And yes, Ilya, I obviously want you to fuck me.”

Ilya laughs, patting Bunny’s ass in signal. She crawls off of him toward the edge of the bed, reaching for Shane. He lets her, lets her take his hands and pull him close to her, takes her mouth again with his.

He likes that she’s smaller, softer, a flip side of what he’s used to handling. Or maybe it’s just that: he’s used to being handled. And he loves when Ilya slams him down and fucks him until he sees through space and time, but it’s been fun to play the other side. To shove his cock down Bunny’s throat and know she’ll take it, because he knows what it’s like to be on his knees just like that.

“Hey, stop kissing my boyfriend,” Ilya whines from behind Bunny.

She giggles into Shane’s mouth and lets Ilya tug her back, pulling her flat on the mattress. He dips down and smacks his mouth over hers, a little too rough—as he tends to do. He makes a show of it, moaning against her and twisting his head around to mush their lips together. She’s still giggling, and Shane’s bringing her legs around his hips and feeling the softness of her calves with his fingertips.

Ilya pulls up, slick-mouthed and grinning. He looks at Shane and the position he’s put them in. “You want her like that, Hollander?”

Shane nods, gazing down at Bunny as she pants softly, blissed-out and perfectly still. “Yeah, just like this.”

Ilya hums, sliding off the bed only to swoop up again behind Shane, tucking his chin over his shoulder. Bunny’s insides wind together in a knot at the sight of both of them, looming over her.

Is your dream, yes? Ilya asked last time. That first time might’ve been a fraction of that dream, but this was the whole of it. The two of them before her, the three of them soon to be intertwined.

“Good,” Ilya murmurs, and Shane’s eyes close when he begins leaving open-mouthed kisses along his neck, “because I want you like this.”

Bunny is content to watch them for a moment. Ilya’s tongue drag over Shane’s skin, Shane’s hand come back to tug at a curl at the nape of his neck. Ilya’s hands over Shane’s stomach, chest, up and down and feeling as they go. Shane whimpering, tipping his head around for more.

But it isn’t enough. And it’s petulant when she does it, but she’ll worry about it later—and Bunny shifts to squeeze her thighs around Shane’s hips with a huff.

“Is someone gonna fuck me?”

Their eyes pop open in different gazes. Ilya’s narrow with faux but equally dangerous warning. Shane’s bulge and marry the pink glow on his cheeks in the perfect picture of embarrassment.

“You will watch the tone, Bunny, or get nothing,” Ilya grumbles.

She shifts, feeling Shane’s expression morph onto her own face. “Sorry.”

“Strict program ‘round here-ah!” Shane yelps when Ilya’s hand pops over his ass.

“Yes, it is. Now say please, both of you.”

They murmur their pleas together and Ilya reaches around Shane to spread Bunny’s legs a little wider. Shane nearly chokes around his own breath at the sight below him. The thickness of her thighs, the firmness of the flesh there. The soft slickness between them, so delicate and pretty.

“You need help, or…”

Shane scoffs, jabbing his elbow back into Ilya. “Shut up. Bunny, can I…”

“Yes, yes please.” Bunny bobs her head hungrily. “I want you, Shane.”

It’s all he needs to hear. Shane presses the head of his cock to Bunny’s center, where the dip grows warm and wet. As he inches in, Ilya tips Shane’s hips back a little, pushes his shoulders over Bunny until he’s hovering, palms pressed into the bed. He heard the sharp smack of spit before Shane feels the breach as he slides further into Bunny, and soon all three of them are releasing sounds of pleasure that echo through the bedroom.

Ilya moves first. Rocks his hip one time, deep and languid against Shane’s ass. It sends Shane tumbling forward, rutting into Bunny. Her hands fly to his arms, nails piercing the warm firmness of his biceps. Through the bleary blur of her vision, she watches his face contort. That beautiful, pained display of euphoria.

Ilya keeps hold of Shane’s hips for momentum, and if it weren’t for Shane’s hold on the mattress on either side of Bunny’s head, they’d both come toppling down on her. But right now, every thrust inside of Shane causes every thrust inside of Bunny, and every time they move the bed goes with them. Jostling, jerking, bouncing Bunny up and down over it.

“Oh god, please,” Bunny whines, and it wakes Shane from his stupor.

He doesn’t want Ilya to fuck both of them. He wants to fuck Bunny, by his own volition. He wants to get those pitchy sounds out of her. He wants her to moan for him.

So even despite Ilya’s steady pace behind him, Shane begins to set his own. Thrusting with intention and excitement and drive. The shift immediately takes hold of Bunny, who gasps like someone’s cut off air supply. Her back crescents as much as it can, folding up into Shane to place her mouth on his neck. He drops down a little further to give her access, groans noisily when she latches on.

“Ooh, fuck, Hollander. Look at you go. So fucking eager,” Ilya purrs. “And Bunny takes it so good.”

He runs his hand along Bunny’s thigh, tickling and teasing. She shivers, the chilling pleasure of Shane’s cock and Ilya’s reminder almost too much. It’s barely started and she’s already struggling.

“Keep going, Shane,” he whispers against Shane’s ear. “Make her scream.”

“Fuck,” Shane sighs, and then he’s balancing on one shaky arm to place his thumb on Bunny’s bottom lip. “You want that, Bunny? You wanna scream?”

She nods again and he shakes his head. “Tell me. Make him happy, I know you want to.”

Her eyes flit to Ilya, who’s smirking over Shane’s shoulder, nodding encouragingly, promising that yes, he will be so happy when Bunny listens for them. Listens for Shane, who’s taken to this new role so well.

“I-I want you to make me scream,” she tells him, and then she’s moaning around the thumb slipping in her mouth.

And then Shane’s rambling in that sweet, cooing voice like he’s calling to a stray. “I’ll do that for you, honey, I’ll do that. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

His thumb hooks in her mouth when he picks up pace. Smears spit and pours drool from the corner of it as he ruts until the vein in her neck protrudes, until he can feel the heat in her face practically pulsing in front of him.

But she still isn’t screaming, and Shane’s gonna cum in a pathetic amount of time from the way Ilya’s making the skin over his hips ripple—but not before she’s screaming.

Shane uses all the strength he can to gather Bunny’s legs, as quickly as he can, and to push them up. Her knees near her ears, folded in half, ankles hooked over his shoulders so Ilya catches sight of a thin gold anklet around her left leg. So delicate and fragile, just like their Bunny, beginning to squeal and shriek at the new angle of Shane’s cock inside her.

“Oh-my-god,” she whines between gasps, between the pound of Shane’s hips against her, the stab of his cock inside her. “Fuck.”

“Not yet,” Ilya grits between his teeth, and he turns to kiss Bunny’s dangling ankle.

Tears kiss her eyes and Shane cradles her wet cheek in his palm, thumb pressing away the errant drops that slip down.

“But—“

“Not. Yet.”

The command cuts through even Shane, who feels Bunny’s thighs squeeze around his neck and her walls tighten around his cock. She looks to him with shiny, pleading eyes, but he only smiles.

“Not yet,” he repeats. Softer, gentler, a little mocking. “Be a g-good girl, Bunny.”

Ilya takes hold of one of Bunny’s ankles and the back of Shane’s hair, using his grip on both to muster enough power that Bunny can feel every thrust inside of Shane. The domino effect being that Shane fucks into her, and the whole bed squeaks and groans and she’s so glad Shane’s too cheap for something better so she has proof of just how hard they’re fucking. She hopes the neighbors can hear—even though they can’t—so she can say that’s happening to me.

“P-please, I can’t,” Bunny whines, nails dragging down Shane’s arms.

He groans, eyes rolling back, rutting wildly—so hard that Bunny feels it in her throat. “Ilya, please.”

Ilya looks between them, the writhing mess on the mattress and the bronzed boy fucking her wildly, and getting fucked back. It’s fills him with a power like he’s never felt before. A high he’s not sure he knows how to handle. He has the both of them in the palm of his hand.

“Fuck, do it. Cum, vozlyublennyye.”

Bunny’s first this time, but just barely. Shane moves his hand fast enough to slip two fingers in her mouth and she bites down on them absentmindedly. He yelps, and the spurt of warmth inside her is enough to make her want to cum again. But she worries, in the fuzzy haze of her fucked-out daydream, that she might be hurting the poor boy trembling over her—so she eases up on the teeth, relaxes her mouth to suck at the fingers shoved deep inside. She forces her eyes open, wanting nothing more than to see the two of them as they come undone.

Ilya goes a little longer, the slap of skin and slick suction of sexes loud without her own screams and Shane’s whining. They’re reduced to whimpers now, tiny pips let out the longer Ilya fucks Shane through his orgasm, the longer his gentle thrusts rock him in and out of Bunny. And then Ilya pulls out, bracing Shane’s hips, letting his release paint the freckled muscles of his back. Without Ilya’s weight holding him up, Shane falls into Bunny with a fatigued sigh, his fingers slipping out of her mouth to fall at her cheek.

His breath is heavy against her chest, where his cheek is pressed flush to her skin. She cradles the back of his head, fingers running through the damp strands, scratching gently at his scalp. Her legs have slipped back down, still vibrating around his hips in the come-down. Ilya sits back on his haunches before them at the end of the bed, running the full weight of his hand over Bunny’s right leg, the other over Shane’s thigh. He watches their eyes flutter shut, their chests ease back down to the stasis of gentle breaths. He grins to himself, feeling full and proud.

“Sleepy babies,” he coos at them. Bunny snickers, but Shane only hums affirmatively against her breast, moving his hand down to her waist where he holds her tightly.

She blinks her eyes open, finding the white ceiling above her. Shane is heavy in that wonderful, warm way, like a blanket meant to ease anxiety, or a coat meant to keep from cold. And he’s holding her like a pillow, and the throb between her legs has subsided to a dull ache, and there’s something fluttering in her chest that freaks her out. A flutter she felt with Ilya back in the day, briefly, before they cut things off.

The Russian is still massaging them, but he’s grown quiet, too. He watches Bunny blink slowly, her face shift from the glow of pleasure to the frown of something else. He moves his thumb a little deeper into her spasming calf and she looks from the ceiling to his watching eyes.

“Okay?” he asks.

She plasters a smile on her mouth and nods, stroking her fingers over the back of Shane’s head again. “Yeah,” she whispers.

They wait a beat, resting there in the silence. Ilya tips his head at Shane, still pressed to Bunny’s chest. “He is still inside, yes?”

She laughs airily, sweeping her hand down his hair again. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” the man murmurs against her skin, cheek squished to puff his lips out. She doesn’t want him to be sorry. She doesn’t want him to move, but she knows he will soon.

It’s even worse that when he does, Shane stands from the bed and pats down the back of his hair, ruffled from her wandering fingers, and he takes small, quiet steps toward the bathroom door with only a shifting glance back at the bed.

“I’m gonna shower,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion and edged with what Bunny can only describe as distance.

Ilya’s brows knit together. “Hollander.”

But the door snicks shut, closing the room to silence between Ilya and the girl lying naked on their bed. She swallows, curling in on herself as she rolls to sit, reaching for the closest thing to cover herself. Ilya turns to her, a frown etched on his mouth.

“I don’t know—he’s just—“

“It’s okay. Um, I’ll just get my stuff.”

Ilya grabs her wrist as she reaches for the edge of the bed, pulling her to sit again. “What? No, Bunny. You can use other shower, I’ll grab you something clean. Don’t go.”

She glances at the bathroom door, the beam of white light shifting beneath it as Shane moves about. The faucet starts a beat later, the patter of water-fall coming down on the shower floor. Ilya holds her wrist gently against her thigh, watching her all the while.

“Okay,” she agrees.

He walks her to the shower on the other side of the condo, meant for guests that stay in the spare room. He places a pile of clothes on the sink, a Metros pullover and plaid pajama pants, a pair of boxers in between. Ilya shows her the shampoo she can use, the body wash that will leave her smelling like him, where the towel warmer is. He kisses her head and then her cheek, and then he’s closing the door on the fluorescently-lit room.

She takes her time in the shower, wondering if Shane and Ilya are sharing the other one as she scrubs her hair, as she cleans herself of Shane. Tears gather in a hard ball behind her eyes, and she closes them before she can cry. She keeps them closed as Ilya’s body wash lathers over her body, as the suds slip down the drain. She opens them only when she’s dressing, and then she’s standing there with wet hair and mismatched clothes—part Ilya, part Shane.

She hangs the towels neatly, arranges all the items in the shower by height. She wipes any water from the floor, runs the fan to release the steam. When she steps out of the bathroom, it’s still quiet. Her clothes are still strewn across the kitchen floor with Shane and Ilya’s, the evidence of a few hours ago like a slap in the face. She glances toward the bedroom as she gathers them, feeling like an idiot when she slips her feet into her high heels.

She shoves her clothes into the purse on the kitchen island, crumpling work folders and the pages of a paperback. The shower in the bedroom turns off and a door creaks open.

“Bunny?”

It’s Ilya, not Shane, and still that stings. She puffs a deep breath through her cheeks and turns for the door, just slipping through it and into the cold as the men emerge from the bedroom with wet hair and the bottle of wine.