@menaceonice said: ∗ 19﹕ sender sits in receiver’s lap . (shaners)
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.
"Did you miss me?" Maybe he's goading him a little. Maybe he just wants to hear him say it. Shane grins, pulling his own shirt off and trying to scoot back further onto the bed while keeping Ilya in his lap. Maybe he likes it a little too much. "I missed you."
