crying on it

"But you are so impatient, like a little slut. Are you sure you can wait? I will have to go find one. Am not used to fucking such good girls." He doesn't make any moves to get up. Shane shivers and gasps. "Please, Ilya! P-please need a condom. Don' wanna get pregnant. Fuck! Just go!" Ilya strokes the tip of his cock slowly back and forth through the mess of spit and lube on Shane's hole. "What if I want you to get pregnant? What if I want to put my baby inside you? You think you could stop me? Look at you. You're useless." He pushes the tip just inside Shane's rim, just the smallest, slightest stretch. Shane cries. "Il-lyaa! Please, I need you! Please, please use a condom. I'm scared. I can't get p-pregnant! Th-they won't let me play!" He's hiccupping and sobbing, snot going all over Ilya's pillow.

"Fiiiine." Ilya lets out a long-suffering groan as he heaves himself up off the bed to go and find a condom for his princess. Before he leaves, he reaches around Shane to give his cock a mean tug as it hangs uselessly beneath him. Shane cries out, his back arching as he tries to get away from the intense sensation. Ilya swats him on the ass muttering under his breath about his spoiled brat as he saunters out of the room. After what feels like an eternity to Shane, but is really only five minutes, Ilya returns with a single condom in his hand. It really did take him a while to find one. It's been so long since they stopped using them. "Found one in old pair of jeans. Had to dig through dirty washing for this Hollander. Happy?" Shane nods his head vigorously against the pillows. "Yeah, yeah, please put it on. Need you so bad! C'mon."

Ilya makes a show of tearing the packet open with his teeth, baring his canines at Shane. "Y-you shouldn't do that," Shane whimpers. "You could t-tear a hole in it." His cock is leaking steadily beneath him and Ilya wonders if he'll even last two strokes of his cock. "Bah! You worry too much Hollander. Has never happened to me before." Shane is feeling delirious by the time Ilya has messed around with the condom, rolling it on and sinking straight into him in one fluid motion. He groans as the air is punched out of him. He feels Ilya's cock bullying its way in, rearranging him to make room inside. He feels so full. Ilya rests for a moment fully sheathed, before dragging out slowly and punching his way back in. The wail that forces itself out of Shane's throat is wrecked.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight. You're fucking milking me. Such a good hole. Gonna wreck it. Gonna stuff you full." Ilya's mouth keeps spurting filth as he rams his cock in again and again. The force of his thrusts shoves Shane further up the bed each time, forcing his face deeper into the pillows. Shane is clinging to the sheets, hips rocking back, trying to meet Ilya's thrusts. His hole is stretched so tight around Ilya, a delicious burn that makes him crave more. Shane's whines and cranes his neck to watch Ilya above him. The firm grip on his hips, the sweat running down his neck, the fierce dark look in his eyes as he claims Shane's hole. "Please," he whispers, his throat ruined from the crying and gasping and begging. "Harder, please." Shane looks up at Ilya with his big brown eyes, shimmering with need. Ilya chokes on a breath, ruts sharply into Shane before burying himself to the hilt and coming.

The sight of Ilya coming undone takes Shane to the edge. He's so desperate he squeezes his hole around Ilya, trying to simulate the feeling of being fucked still. Ilya has stopped moving. That's when he feels it. The slow warmth of cum filling him. A trickle down onto his balls. His head whips up. "Ilya. Wha-what did you do?" Ilya is staring down at where they're still fully connected. "Think I maybe fucked you too hard and condom broke." He's trying to sound sincere but there's a smirk on his face. Shane tries desperately to pull himself off Ilya's cock but he's still being held by his hips in a vice-like grip. "Fuck! Ilya, get off! Oh my God, I can't believe you! What the fuck?" Ilya leans over Shane to smother him with his weight, his mouth landing just behind Shane's ear. He presses a wet kiss there, whispering hot on his neck. "What? You don't want my baby Hollander? That is rude. I would be very good daddy. And I think you will be very good mommy." Shane whimpers weakly, "I-Ilya. Get off."

Ilya pretends to consider it. "Hmm, no. I like it here, nice and warm inside. And you still have not come. I am not bad lover." He starts to grind his hips, nudging on Shane's prostate and making him groan. Shane feels more wetness leaking out of him and buries his face in the pillows in shame. He scrabbles behind him, fingers biting into the arms holding him down, legs kicking beneath him, trying to get Ilya off of him. "You fucking asshole! Don' want your baby. Get the fuck off me!" Ilya straightens back up before landing a harsh smack on Shane's ass, making him cry out. "So ungrateful! You know how many girls would love to have my baby inside them? I choose you Hollander, and you don't even want it. But it's too late now." He reaches around to pat the soft round of Shane's stomach, gets his lips back on Shane's ear, whispering. "Is done. Can you feel it?" Shane feels Ilya's dick, all the way up in his guts still. He shivers again, a groan escaping him. "D-did you plan this? T-to get me…pregnant?" His timid voice shakes with the heaviness of shame, and yet underlying pleasure. Ilya wants to laugh. This whole fucked up scenario had been born from his horny husband's brain.

"What do you think, my love?" Ilya's voice is deep and wicked. "You think I could resist? Is just natural. Instinct. And you took it all so well." Ilya moves to kiss the back of his neck before biting a bruise into it. Shane whines and bucks his hips. He's still leaking all over the bed, hard as a fucking rock. "Are you done complaining now my princess? Want to have some more fun?" Ilya is hardening quickly with Shane's body writhing beneath him. He looks as if he's unsure if he wants to run away, hide or get fucked again. Ilya makes the decision for him, drawing his cock slowly out of Shane's ass until the tip catches on his rim. He's careful not to break the seal and let too much cum escape. Shane is whimpering, face fully hidden in the pillows again. As Ilya's cock pounds back into him he forgets entirely what they were arguing about, can think of nothing but the brutal pace at which he's being fucked. Every thrust lights his prostate on fire and his head goes fuzzy as his vision blurs with tears.

Ilya is panting and moaning above him, eyes fixated on the stretch of Shane's rim and the small trails of cum leaking out around his cock. "Ugh, yeah. Gonna fuck you full of my babies. Take it! Fuck!" Shane's brain has leaked out his ears, his voice slurring as his words are punched out of him. "Ye-eah, mmb-uh-by, yours-s 'lya!" Ilya does not slow his pace as he pants out, "Yeah? You wan' it now? Want my babies, Hollander? Fuck! You're so good, so good for me. Just taking it all. Gonna be my pretty wife. Gonna keep you full and pregnant. All mine." Shane is aware that he's come approximately thirty seconds after the fact. His vision comes back to him slowly, ears ringing as he tries to lift his head. His body is vibrating. He tunes in to Ilya still grunting above him, occasionally letting out what Shane supposes is a string of Russian, although everything sounds a bit gibberish to him at present.

He hears Ilya in the distance give a shout and then feels warmth spreading through him again. Fuck, he's supposed to be mad at Ilya. He buries his head in the pillows and shakes it side to side, whining. "N-no! No, no, nooo! Ilya, please!" Ilya lets out a groan, lazily moving Shane by his hips, back and forth on his softening cock as he rides out the waves of his second orgasm. "Mmph- off. G' off Ilya." Shane's protests are becoming less and less convincing. "No. Have to make sure it takes. Two big loads should make nice strong russian baby." Shane huffs out a breath. His words have lost their bite. "Fuckin' hate you. You tricked me." Ilya rolls them into their side, keeping them connected at the hips. He hooks his chin on Shane's shoulder, murmuring into his ear. One arm is thrown across his hip, rubbing soft circles on his stomach. "Is ok. I know you wanted it, even if you will not admit. You will look very sexy, all big and round belly. I will rub your feet and bring you snacks and take you to special baby doctor appointments. We will go buy tiny clothes and tiny pair of skates for our little star hockey player."

Shane sniffles, a tear sliding down his nose. "Stop it, Ilya." Ilya shuffles to press kisses up Shane's neck and across his cheek. "Oh malysh, you are sad I can't actually give you my baby? You want to keep trying?" Shane swats at his hand. "You're such an asshole. But you would be a good daddy. One day." Ilya bites his ear. "You will make me cry now Shane, and that is not good look for me after mind-blowing sex. You will think I am all soft inside." Shane reaches a hand up behind him to cup Ilya's cheek. "I already know you're a big softie. That's why I married you, idiot. Now clean up your mess or you're doing the dishes tonight." He giggles as Ilya pushes him back onto his stomach, tickling his ribs teasingly as he lays his weight in top of Shane. "Eww Ilya, the wet patch!" Ilya laughs as he starts easing himself out of Shane. "That is your mess, my love. Is ok, I know you can't help it. When your husband is sooo sexy." He massages his thumbs around Shane's hole, stretching and soothing as he works his soft cock out of Shane. Cum floods out of him, dribbling down to his balls. "Fuck, Shane. Seems such a waste. There's so much of it."

"Oh my god, Ilya," Shane whines. "Did you use the pin like I told you?" Ilya looks down at where the condom is sheathed on his cock, the whole end of it blown out and pushed up past his tip. He sheepishly answers, "Um, no?" Shane cranes his head to look back at Ilya, and his cock. "What the fuck, Ilya!? What did you do!?" His eyes are wide as he looks from Ilya's cock, to his face, back to his cock. "Well I wanted to be sure it would break, ok!" "What. Did. You use." Shane is stifling his own laughter as he looks at Ilya's face growing pink. "Might have used a…nn-f." He trails off, mumbling under his breath. Shane raises an eyebrow at him. "A knife, ok! I got sharp knife from kitchen and cut a little cross in it so it would burst open and I could fill you up, just like you wanted!" Hysterical laughter bursts out of Shane. "You're such a fucking idiot, I swear! You're lucky it didn't get stuck inside me!" He reaches out to grab the tissue box off the side table and throws it in the direction of Ilya's head. "Get your fucking cum out of me so we can cuddle already." Ilya catches the box and gets to work, but not without grumbling under his breath. "'Oh Ilya, please poke hole in condom and fuck me til you come and I will pretend I don't want it ok.' 'Yes ok Shane, anything for you.' Doesn't even want my cum now."

“I’m not backing out,” Shane snips, shrugging a shoulder anxiously. “It’s just…out of my comfort zone.”

“Well then, we’re even, aren’t we?” Ilya says, digging his nails into his thick ass cheek, and not entirely opposed to the high gasp Shane releases.

It took one conversation, after five years of friendship, and Shane very bashfully admitting that he’s always wondered what all the hype was about with every woman that Ilya got into bed. Shane’s attractions had always been his business. He never forced them onto Ilya, never told him he should “explore more”, they just had their own platonic intimacy apart from the sexual. Shane wasn’t flamboyant or exuberant, he was just Shane. Insanely talented hockey player, peak jock performance, captain of the McGill team, about to graduate and kick ass in the real world, in the real leagues. Ilya was just his junior league buddy-turned-best-friend whose father talked him out of hockey altogether after Junior’s and strong-armed him into a business degree to “make something of himself.”

Sometimes he thinks it’s because his father saw how good Shane Hollander was at just seventeen and knew Ilya would never be that good.

Truthfully, he’d never looked at Shane as an object of lust. He was just his best friend. Objectively attractive, sure. He could acknowledge that Shane was a beautiful man, with a gentle smile and adorable freckles. But that’s as far as it went. Until tonight.

“Did you do what you need to do?” Ilya asks, a knuckle stroking Shane’s cheek.

“Yes,” he mumbles. “It’s ready.”

“Ready for me to just slide in when I please? Like any other girl?” He clarifies, tucking a tendril from his falling bangs behind his ear, his head of hockey hair in full force and pulled into a bun at the back of his head.

“Yes,” he shivers, barely blinking when Ilya tugs at his hair tie and frees his locks for holding.

“Then get on the bed. Face down. On your stomach.”

He hears the muttered “Fuck,” under his friend’s breath, and something about it makes Ilya’s cock throb.

He’s not attracted to men. He fucks women. He has fucked a wide array of women of all shapes and sizes and backgrounds. He knows women.

Shane, well…

He knows Shane incredibly well. Just not like he knows women. But how different, really, can it be? Fucking an ass is fucking an ass, right? A fuckhole is a fuckhole. He’s done it countless times. He likes his women a little freaky, a little kinky; he’s no stranger to entering through a back door. Make Shane put on panties and a little skirt and it might as well be one of his countless hookups over the years.

Ilya strips himself naked, something that Shane has definitely seen before, but never been able to appreciate fully, so he gives him that allowance. He sees his breath catch as his cheek lies atop his forearms, waiting for him and devouring Ilya's body with his lurid gaze. Shane isn’t that far behind — the skirt and panties are all he’s clad in anyway. He throws lube onto the bed, rips a condom from the strip, and flings it, landing on the small of Shane’s beautifully dimpled back.

Laying like this, he really isn’t that different from a woman. Strong thighs, he supposes, but that’s not exclusively masculine. He’s fucked a few muscle mommies in his time. His slutty waist curves beautifully into sturdy hips, and if Shane was a girl, he’d think he could birth a baby from them. Maybe if Ilya tries hard enough, he can knock him up despite the biological setbacks. Shane would probably take him without a condom if Ilya had him stupid enough. Many woman have tried to beg for it before. He has pretty strong resolve, and proudly no pregnancy scares as of yet.

But something about the curve of that fucking waist. The deep dimples above his ass. The thick, perkiness of his cheeks. Ilya is already hard and leaking staring at him. He may not even need the porn.

He turns it on anyway, a laptop perched at the foot of the bed in front of Shane. He picked the video out specifically, long enough that he can do what he needs to do. A toned man, nothing special. A beautiful brunette on her stomach with her ass in the air and an asshole already stretched, her tits pressed against the mattress and hair flowing down her back.

Ilya can do this. Easy. Shane wanted a graduation present, and Ilya is going to give him one.

“Can we at least keep the volume off?” Shane mumbles as the woman starts moaning on screen as fingers fuck her hole.

“I like the sounds,” Ilya purrs, gripping his ass.

“Put something inside me like that and I’ll make sounds for you,” he assures.

Ilya thinks it over, and decides to give it a try. He mutes the video, leaving the woman throwing her head back in silence. That settles Shane a little, resting his head more and propping his ass in the air like a well-trained slut.

“You get fucked often, Shane?” Ilya asks, admiring his cheeks adorning the red lace. “That position seemed pretty automatic. You don’t really talk about it much with me.”

“I get fucked enough,” Shane says dismissively. “And I didn’t think you’d want details.”

“Maybe we can try in the future. You can tell me all about the men who fuck you not as good as I’m about to,” he touts as he rolls the condom down his cock and lubes himself up. With a sharp hand, he smacks Shane’s ass, and the man gasps, his shoulder blades pulling back as he arches gorgeously at the treatment. Ilya chuckles. “I should’ve known. Hockey players like it rough, huh?”

Shane, his defenses dissolving, just exhales, “Yes.”

Ilya jerks down the panties, just under the seat of his ass, and groans as he flips his skirt up. He clearly shaved, made himself smooth and pristine down the split of his ass. Ilya inspects his future dwelling and finds it dark, dusky brown, and shining with lubricant. Shaved, maybe even waxed for how smooth he is when Ilya runs his fingers over the skin. Shane inhales at the touch, leaning back into it searchingly.

“You groomed for me.”

“I wanted to be…pretty,” Shane admits quietly.

“Fuck,” Ilya whispers, dragging his thumb over his slick, clenching hole. “You are very pretty. Look at this pussy, all clean and wet for me.”

Shane whimpers into his arms at the words.

“You like that?” Ilya coos, dragging the heel of his hand up Shane’s back and tangling into his shaggy hair. “You like when I call your pussy pretty? I think she wants me to fuck her. She’s winking at me like a little slut,” he teases, pulling his cheeks apart over and over with his free hand just to rile himself up at the ephemeral sight of him.

Fuck, his best friend is hot. And he wants to fuck him. God, he really wants to fuck him. Is he really this horny that his cock is leaking over his male best friend?

Now isn’t the time to overthink it. Shane is moaning, writhing at his sentiments, and Ilya feels a flush burn over his chest as he lines his cock up to his best friend’s hole. He shakes himself out of a daze and glances past Shane’s plump lips, up at the screen where the brunette is already getting plowed by a cock not that different in size from Ilya’s own.

He makes sure to stare at the girl, stare at her face, as he plunges past the tight ring of his entrance, but all the sounds are Shane. The cry of pleasure is deeper than he’s used to, but it still makes his cock ache as he sinks in deeper and deeper. Shane doesn’t seem to mind, doesn’t tell him to stop or slow down, just moans and whines into his arms as his ass poises in the air. And when he starts to fuck, when he angles it right, Shane’s ass clamps around his dick like a vice, like good cunt when it’s coming around his cock. But he doesn’t even think Shane is close to coming yet.

That’s his prostate. Fuck, that’s hot. Ilya shifts to fuck into it again, and Shane’s thighs shudder as he keens, his hands now clutching the sheets beneath him. Ilya’s hand buries in Shane’s hair, pressing his cheek into the bed as he sets a ragged, relentless pace, feeling out what makes Shane tick like he would any woman.

“Did I find your secret spot? Your special little G spot? You like when I fuck it like that?” Ilya growls into his ear, feeling Shane’s ass bounce back against his hips as he forces himself to watch the screen again and not Shane’s pinched and pleasured face, where the woman is also being pressed into the bed and pounded, clearly shouting in manufactured bliss. But Shane’s noises are real. Very real. He knows fake when he hears it, and it isn’t when a hole is squeezing around his cock like this.

“I think I’m gonna come,” Shane whines, panting, wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking aggressively.

“Already, baby? Video’s not even half done,” he jokes, not sure where the pet name came from, but it felt natural with such a beautiful body beneath him, swallowing his cock like it's nothing at all.

“Fuck me through the whole thing, I don’t care,” Shane whimpers, and then his body jolts, his ass pulling tight around his cock as he splatters onto the interior of his skirt, panting and moaning.

It hits him all at once, a brick to the face, at the expression Shane pulls as he comes, looking so fucking beautiful, so angelic, so pornographic, but better than any porn he’s ever seen. He feels it in his fucking chest when he blows inside him, blindsided entirely and nearly blind himself as his vision blacks out before coming back in blurry and disoriented.

“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Jesus Christ,” Ilya babbles, running hands up and down Shane’s back as his cock softens in the messy condom. He pinches it gingerly and extracts himself, slamming the laptop shut and lumbering onto his back with a huff. “Господи. Shane. Fuck.”

“You’re sure you don’t like men? Like, really sure?” Shane breathes out with a wide smile.

“Don’t ask me that now. Let me have a fucking cigarette first.”

--