#moefics

Overture

Sometime in 2014…

When Ilya gets to Shane’s condo, the first thing he does is shower. As opposed to jumping Shane’s bones.

After hungrily making out for a minute or two, Ilya pulls away to shake off his coat and ask, “I can use your shower, yes?”

The surprise must show on his face because Ilya takes one look at him and snorts as he’s taking off his shoes. “Relax, Hollander. We have all night, remember?” Once he’s gotten everything off, he steps into Shane’s space and pecks him on the lips. “Be a good boy and wait, да? You could—”

Shane doesn’t let him finish. “I, ah, already did,” he says, a blush creeping up his neck. The words loosen myself up are too mortifying to say, though, so he doesn’t. “Before you got here.”

Ilya blinks. Then, he grins. “Eager, aren’t you?”

Shane wants to cover his face. “Fuck off.”

Ilya’s shoulders are shaking all the way to the shower.

Shane retreats to the bedroom and opens up his phone. They’ve never had this much time with each other before. Certainly not a whole night. If they really push it, probably the whole morning, too, since Ilya’s flight out of Montreal isn’t until the afternoon. But Shane doubts it will come to that. One night is plenty, and Ilya’s most likely got things to do the next day.

Anyway. Even before Ilya arrived, Shane had been thinking. Doing a dozen open tabs’ worth of thinking, really. Of… stuff they can try, since they’ve got so much time. Based on their earlier sexting, Shane gets the feeling that Ilya does not intend for the two of them to simply go to bed after one round. Especially not after this game has him all pumped with a 3-2 victory in Boston’s favor. And also, if there’s one thing Shane knows about Ilya, it’s that his words are usually backed up by action. So, in case all that stuff about not letting him rest tonight isn’t just dirty talk, Shane would rather be prepared.

He’s halfway through scrolling down a Top 10 Best Deeply Penetrating Sex Positions listicle when Ilya emerges from the shower. Shane doesn’t notice him, too absorbed in what he’s reading, so he startles when he hears Ilya suddenly speak.

“Oh my god, Hollander,” Ilya chuckles. “Of course you are type of person who does… what is word? Sex research.”

Shane damn near throws his phone at him in sheer affrontedness and embarrassment. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“Well…” Ilya drawls with a matching hand gesture and his most intense bedroom eyes yet. “Do you want to put in to practice or not?”

Phone discarded on the nightstand, Shane yanks Ilya down by the towel around his neck and lets his lips tell the answer.

Round One

It doesn’t take much to get Ilya hard. Shane suspects he’s been raring to go since the game, which would be typical.

With Shane licking one long stripe up the length of his cock, Ilya is already half-hard. With Shane lapping at the head with his tongue, that gets him to full mast. And with Shane languidly bobbing his head up and down as he fully takes Ilya’s cock into his mouth, all too quickly is Ilya tapping his shoulder to signal that he should get off. “Fuck, that is good,” he says. “But enough. Want to be inside you.”

Almost out of reflex, Shane gets on the bed on his hands and knees.

Ilya stands, but doesn’t get into position behind him. “That is how you want me?” He asks teasingly. “What about those other positions?”

“Later,” Shane says, voice on the edge of desperation, because damn if he hasn’t been raring to go since the umpteenth time Ilya had pushed him into the boards during the game, too. “Now, can you just… get in here?”

“Right here, mister champion of dirty talk,” Ilya says, clearly trying not to laugh. Oh, Shane hates him.

But Shane can’t hate him too much when he finally, finally slicks up his cock with lube and lines himself up behind Shane and he can feel the head of Ilya’s hard cock against his opening.

“Ok?” Ilya asks.

“Please,” Shane says.

The first slide in is always the hardest. No matter how well Shane prepares, there’s just no way his fingers can simulate Ilya’s girth, much less his length. Shane groans as Ilya fills him up, and lets out an audible breath when he bottoms out.

“Still good?” Ilya checks in again.

At this exact moment, Shane is really fucking glad Ilya can’t see his face. One of the perks of this position, and why Shane likes it so much that it’s more often than not the way they do it across all these meetups.

“Please move,” Shane begs.

He hears a grunt from behind him and feels Ilya’s hands tense, one on Shane’s hip and the other on his back—cluing him in that Ilya is definitely holding back, but he isn’t going to anymore after a blank check like that.

Good, Shane thinks, because he wants it hard and fast and deep.

And that’s exactly the way Ilya gives it to him.

He does a few experimental thrusts at first, feeling Shane out, but they quickly find their rhythm and soon enough, the room is engulfed in the sounds of harsh breaths and skin slapping against skin. Ilya sets a merciless pace, holding Shane down as he pounds into him, and it is exactly what Shane has wanted all night.

Shane pants, moans, groans—mewls when Ilya finds his prostate and his cock hits it over and over and over.

“Holy shit, Rozanov, I’m—”

“You gonna come on my cock, Hollander?” Each word is punctuated by a hard thrust right onto the bundle of nerves that has Shane gripping the sheets like a vice.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” 

Shane spills onto the pristine white sheets below him with a loud moan. For a few blissful seconds, his vision almost whites out with pure pleasure, and he barely registers Ilya’s thrusts stuttering behind him as he groans and comes as well.

After tying off and discarding the condom, Ilya collapses next to Shane on the bed, the two of them spent.

Round Two

They take a break for water and, in Shane’s case, scrolling through his phone again. Neither of them bothers getting dressed, though, a silent agreement that they’ll be ready to go again soon.

Ilya sits on the bed beside Shane and takes gulp after gulp of his water bottle. Shane’s own sits half full on the nightstand. At first, Shane doesn’t look up from his phone, but after reading something that sounds patently ridiculous, he puts the stupid device down with a huff and climbs onto Ilya’s lap.

“Yes?” Ilya asks, discarding the bottle and putting his hands on Shane’s hips.

“Wanna ride you,” Shane says, resting his arms on Ilya’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” Ilya hisses, then claims Shane’s lips. He licks into Shane’s mouth with a fervor that makes it seem like they hadn’t just fucked and more like they’d been circling each other the whole time and this is the first taste of the night to come. He swallows Shane’s moans as he uses his grip on Shane’s hips to bring their cocks together.

Shane grinds against him, desperate for friction, and tangles his hands into Ilya’s curls.

At some point, one of Ilya’s hands wanders down to Shane’s hole. Two fingers fuck into Shane lazily as their cocks slide against each other. Shane’s body can’t decide between seeking more friction forward or rutting backward against Ilya’s fingers. So occupied and overwhelmed by the dual pleasures, he goes from kissing Ilya to more of just breathing into his mouth, and he can feel how much Ilya is enjoying taking him apart like this from the way he’s definitely smiling into their kisses.

Feeling himself get close, Shane swats Ilya’s hand near his hole and sits back to take a breath. Ilya complies easily, rubbing Shane’s legs as he waits.

After a moment, Shane repositions himself, getting on his knees above Ilya and lining himself up to take Ilya’s cock into his body once more. Ilya kisses Shane’s chest in encouragement, tearing open a packet of lube, and after taking a deep breath, Shane slowly sinks down.

“Ah, fuck,” Shane moans when Ilya bottoms out, which is matched with a grunt and Ilya’s hands tightening their grip on Shane’s waist.

They kiss again as Shane repositions his legs to get more comfortable, but he breaks away with a gasp when that changes the angle to something deeper.

“Good?” Ilya asks, planting a kiss on Shane’s shoulder.

Shane nods frantically.

“Use your words, котенок,” Ilya says, a gentle command.

“Y-Yes, really good,” Shane replies at last.

Another kiss, this time to the hollow of Shane’s throat. “Mm. Now, will you move, or should I?”

“Gimme a second,” Shane says.

Testing the waters, Shane rolls his hips, slowly and with purpose, which makes Ilya moan and grip him tighter. Then, growing more confident, Shane raises his hips before quickly sinking back down onto Ilya’s cock, and again, and again. Ilya’s mouth attaches to Shane’s neck now, suckling, and that added to how tense his hands are on Shane’s waist makes it occur to Shane that he’s holding back again. That just won’t do.

“M-Move,” Shane tells him—only to have the breath immediately knocked out of him when Ilya starts rutting into Shane’s tight, wet heat with a groan. Shane does his best to meet Ilya’s rhythm, the pleasure making his toes curl.

Suddenly, Shane can’t bear not to be kissing him, so he grips Ilya by the chin to get him to stop attacking his neck and crashes their lips together. Ilya’s tongue seeks out Shane’s own as his cock seeks Shane’s prostate, and he drinks in Shane’s moans as if they were water.

Ilya pulls back. “Are you close?”

Shane pants against his shoulder. “Yes.”

Ilya grips Shane’s cock and starts pumping in time with his thrusts. “Come for me, then.”

It doesn’t take long after that.

“Oh, fuck, Rozanov, I—!”

And this time, Shane does white out for a few seconds when his orgasm hits him. When he comes back to reality, though, it dawns on him that Ilya still hasn’t come, so he makes him pull out so that Shane can suck him off to completion.

When Ilya comes, part of Shane wishes he’d taken the condom off before blowing him so he could’ve swallowed, but another part of him is also disgusted with the mere notion and how much he (partially) wants it.

Round Three

“You want me to… carry you…” Ilya confirms.

Fighting through the way he’s surely blushing right now, Shane answers, “Yes.”

“While fucking you against window,” Ilya finishes, gesturing to the window in question.

“...Correct,” Shane says.

They stare at each other.

“Can’t do it?” Shane asks, worrying at his bottom lip. “Or is that too much?”

Ilya blinks incredulously. “No. No, no. Is good, I can do. Is just… неожиданный. Fuck, what is this word? Surprising. Surprising.”

Shane nods. “So…”

Instead of replying, Ilya backs Shane against the window and kisses him. As their tongues slide together, Ilya’s hand wanders downwards, to both of their quickly stiffening cocks. He starts stroking, and Shane joins in. And like before, Ilya takes the opportunity to finger Shane a little, checking if he’s still loosened up enough. However, they don’t take much time, both eager to get to the main event.

Shane pulls back and nods at Ilya, who all at once understands. Ilya grips Shane’s hips and lifts, Shane’s legs hooking over Ilya’s shoulders. Shane helps Ilya line himself up and get lube and a condom on his cock, though the angle’s a bit awkward for his hand, and then comes the slow, delicious slide of Ilya entering Shane for the third time tonight.

If Shane had thought he would get used to the sensation after three times, he’d have been dead wrong. No matter how many times they do this, it just feels so right. It makes him think, Why can’t I have this all the time? And it’s more than slightly deranged, the idea of Ilya just… being inside Shane all the time, but he can’t lie that it’s also more than slightly appealing. The idea of being stuffed full, of moving in any way and immediately feeling that wonderful cock twitch inside him, of only having a moment’s notice before he’s being fucked again… It’s a nice fantasy.

“Is ok?” Ilya checking in snaps Shane out of his reverie.

“Yeah,” Shane says, a little out of breath. “You can move.”

And, oh does Ilya move. He starts slowly and shallowly at first, gauging their respective comfort levels for the new position, but once it becomes apparent that they’re both very into it, he starts thrusting in earnest. Ilya, honestly, fucks like a porn star—something Shane has taken note of before—but never before has he been more grateful for Ilya’s sheer strength and stamina. He’s essentially holding up Shane’s entire body weight right now, all while fucking him senseless, and it’s just. Unimaginably hot.

The one thing Shane is unsatisfied with is that at their current angle, it’s hard to kiss, and this must be fixed as soon as possible.

“Wanna kiss,” Shane half-murmurs and half-whines, too far gone from being dicked down to be truly embarrassed at how needy he must sound.

Ilya stops. “Mm,” he hums affirmatively and shifts so that Shane’s legs are now winding around the base of Ilya’s spine and the angle is right so he can lean in and they can kiss.

Shane hums happily when Ilya’s lips finally meet his, hands settling to thread through Ilya’s curls.

This time around, they come at the same time, almost in sync, each other’s names caught on moans as they reach climax.

In the aftermath of Ilya pulling out and setting Shane down, they just stare at each other, panting, for a long moment.

Then, they both burst into giggles.

“Was fun?” Ilya asks.

Shane beams at him. “Definitely.”

Round Four

The fourth round finds them back on the bed, with Shane on all fours above Ilya, as Ilya eats Shane’s ass and Shane sucks Ilya’s cock. And while Shane would like to focus on the task at hand (or, at mouth), it’s really fucking difficult when Ilya is this good at what he does. He ends up moaning around Ilya’s cock every time Ilya’s tongue fucks him just that little bit more. Shane is loath to admit it, but this may be what a real difference in skill looks like.

In an attempt to spare his own pride, Shane pulls away and moves so that he’s straddling Ilya while still facing away from him.

“What is it?” Ilya asks, concerned, and goddamn him for even considering that Shane had to stop what they were doing because he hadn’t been enjoying it instead of the truth, which is that Shane felt himself close to coming while Ilya was nowhere near.

“Shh,” Shane says. “Just lie there and let me, ok?”

And that’s how Shane ends up riding Ilya again, but this time with a freer, more unbridled energy to it. Ilya can’t see him, so he makes no attempt to control his facial expressions. They can’t kiss, so a hundred percent of Shane’s focus is on the optimal way to roll his hips to hopefully drive Ilya wild. And from the way Ilya has devolved to mumbling in Russian, it looks like he’s well on the way there.

“Fuck, Hollander—ты маленькая совершенная штучка…!”

Shane chuckles, slamming his hips down hard. “What was that?”

Ilya can only moan as his climax hits him, seemingly out of nowhere.

After which, Ilya immediately takes his revenge by blowing Shane to within an inch of his life until he’s the one reduced to incoherence.

Round Five

“I have idea,” Ilya says.

Shane turns to face him and props his head up on an elbow. “Hit me.”

“What?” Ilya asks, suddenly scandalized. “No, I would not do that to you.”

Shane snorts. “No! I mean, tell me your idea.”

“English expressions are weird,” Ilya says. “But yes—my idea. Your mirror there spins, yes?”

“It rotates,” Shane corrects with a smile, already getting it.

“We would have it sideways while we—”

“—Horizontal—”

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I am here for your big words, Hollander?”

Shane shrugs. “I mean, what else would you be here for?”

“Your asshole,” Ilya deadpans. “Maybe your mouth.”

Shane throws a pillow at him. “You’re such a fucking dick.”

Ilya nods. “And you like fucking this dick,” he smirks.

“Shut up,” Shane says. God help me, I really do.

Ilya sticks his tongue out at him. “Make me.”

They wrestle playfully on the bed, laughing all the while, until all of a sudden they’re kissing again. Shane starts it, capturing Ilya’s lips the moment he gets Ilya under him again. They make out languidly, neither really trying to get off just yet.

Ilya parts from Shane with a sigh. “The mirror…” And Shane lets him up so he can reposition the mirror to face the side of the bed.

“Now what?” Shake asks once Ilya returns to his side.

Ilya smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I know perfect position for this.” He directs Shane to lie down, facing the mirror, as Ilya spoons him.

“Oh. Fuck,” Shane says when he catches a glimpse of their relfection and he can see everything. He’ll be able to see the way his whole body will flush once they’re joined together. He’ll see the way Ilya’s cock plunges into his body. He’ll see his own cock leaking as Ilya fucks him. Shane’s cock twitches then, and of course, that’s in full view of the mirror, too.

Ilya chuckles against Shane’s ear. “You get it now, yes?”

Shane huffs impatiently. “Yeah. Now, can you fuck me already?”

Ilya clicks his tongue, sending a shiver down Shane’s spine. “Bossy,” he remarks, but while lining himself up and slicking up his cock with lube.

When Ilya slides home, they both groan.

Shane looks in the mirror. The sight is frankly obscene: Ilya buried to the hilt, one hand in Shane’s mouth as Shane sucks on his fingers while the other tweaks Shane’s nipple. Shane’s cock hard and flushed and weeping, one of his hands clawing backwards at Ilya’s shoulder while the other is buried in Ilya’s curls.

Then, Ilya starts to move. He fucks Shane slowly but impossibly deeply, letting him feel each thrust all the way to his stomach.

“Look at you,” Ilya says. “Spread out so prettily for me, hm?” He presses a kiss onto Shane’s shoulder. “Canada’s perfect golden boy, so hungry for cock.” Shane moans and tips his head backward when Ilya finds his prostate. “It would not matter if they put a dozen willing actresses and supermodels in front of you for the taking.” Ilya’s thrusts grow harsh and fast. “You’d much rather come just like this, fucked full, without me even touching your dick.”

Shane sobs, the pleasure-pain of his prostate getting all but relentlessly assaulted staying just on the edge of too much. “Yes, yes—”

And that’s it for him. Shane sees himself shoot his load in front of the mirror, ropes of white coating his stomach. Ilya must feel him tighten, because he moans and thrusts deep a few more times before stilling inside Shane and coming.

After Ilya pulls out and ties the condom off, the two lay side by side in silence for a while.

Eventually…

“That was—” Shane starts. Intense. Mindblowing. Fucking insane. Nothing seems to suffice.

“Yes,” Ilya agrees, getting it anyway.

Round Six

Shane grabs Ilya’s wrist when he reaches for the condom. “Don’t.”

Ilya looks at him, a searching sort of gaze. “You are sure?”

Shane nods. “Yeah.”

For the last one of the night, Shane knows this is the one they’re both going to remember in the months before they see each other again, so sue him for wanting to try something different. Although, this entire night has been about trying different things.

It’s another first for Shane, doing it without a condom. Now that he thinks about it, Ilya is a lot of firsts for Shane in the realm of sex. First sexual experience with a man? Check. First blowjob, giving and receiving? Check. First time doing anal sex? Check. Rimming? Riding? Sixty-nine? Check, check, and check. Not to mention all the stuff they’ve done tonight.

Putting the condom back on the nightstand, Ilya gets back into position hovering over Shane. Shane’s legs are slung over Ilya’s shoulders, and Ilya presses a kiss to Shane’s ankle before tearing open a lube packet and pushing his slick cock into Shane’s hole.

The way Ilya fucks him this time is oddly tender, still lit up from the inside with heated passion, but lacking the harshness and urgency of earlier rounds. And Ilya won’t stop kissing him everywhere: Shane’s ankles, Shane’s nipples, Shane’s neck, Shane’s shoulders, Shane’s collarbone, Shane’s forehead, Shane’s nose, Shane’s chin, and (of course) Shane’s lips.

Shane kisses back with all he’s got, trying to communicate… something he’s not even aware of what it is, but he hopes Ilya understands from the way he kisses him. I’m gonna miss this. Fuck me so hard I’ll still feel it by the time we see each other again. Stay a little longer?

Their gazes never once wander, and Shane stares deeply into Ilya’s irises as he comes, as they’re both coming, and the both of them lasted quite a bit longer compared to earlier, but it doesn’t matter because the sex felt like it lasted forever and simultaneously not long enough, never long enough, and seriously, why can’t Ilya just stay buried to the hilt inside him from now on?

Ilya moves to pull out, but Shane shakes his head. “Inside,” he says.

Ilya nods, and bends down to kiss him. Shane moans into it as he feels Ilya’s release coating his insides, warm and gross and perfect. It’s this feeling that pushes Shane over the edge until he’s coming, too, pulling back with a scream, his release spilling over both their stomachs.

Ilya doesn’t pull out for a while, just keeps kissing Shane, and Shane wouldn’t have it any other way.

Coda

Shane wakes up to the sound of the shower being turned off. He absentmindedly pats the bed beside him, unsurprised to find it empty aside from himself based on the sound that woke him up in the first place. He and Ilya had fallen asleep tangled together last night, and Ilya still hadn’t pulled out then. But of course, he had to eventually. And he must have cleaned Shane up—because Shane feels no stickiness where there definitely should be some.

When Ilya emerges after a while, he’s already fully dressed in a plain black tshirt, faded blue jeans, his dark grey coat from last night, brown combat boots, and a black baseball cap with white lettering in Cyrillic that Shane can’t read.

“What time is it?” Shane asks him, rubbing his eyes.

“Around 08:30,” supplies Ilya, fiddling with the contents of his overnight bag. “Flight got moved up,” he explains needlessly, although Shane had been giving him a look that said something along the lines of, What’s the rush?

“Oh,” Shane says. “Um, have a safe flight…?” He wants to hit himself for how that sounds more like a question.

Ilya pauses. He walks up to Shane and kisses him briefly and chastely on the mouth. “Thank you,” he says, smiling. Then, he picks up his bag and makes to leave.

“See you,” Shane says, once the door is already shut and Ilya couldn’t have possibly heard him.

He tries to stand, to go shower or maybe eat something, but quickly abandons the attempt for the pain that shoots up from his hips. Fuck. Maybe they overdid it.

(Translations for Ilya’s Russian dialogue:

да = yes

котенок = kitten

неожиданный = unexpected

ты маленькая совершенная штучка = you perfect little thing