Untitled

explicit- 18+

mdni

warnings: blow job and our favorite boys don’t talk to each other.

this is that one shower scene from the beginning of episode 4. iykyk. kinda sad we don’t get a whole scene of that. but this is kinda what i imagine.

anyways, not proof read.

would love feedback! also requests for anything else would be cool!

happy reading you horny fucks

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Ilya and Shane lay in bed, still naked, still dirty, but not moving. The Russian was lying back against the tan boy, his head on his chest, but his body angled away. Shane had his arm resting across Ilya’s chest, occasionally drawing a pattern or lightly tapping.

The two were quiet, unwilling to break this moment. It was rare for them to have time like this, neither have to leave till the day after next.

But still Shane wouldn’t stay over.

And Ilya would never ask.

Sometimes Ilya wished he could. Wished his voice was strong enough to speak words he’d never say. Wished he could beg Shane to just stay, for one night. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. That would make this something more than it was.

Just sex.

That’s all this was.

Mind-numbing, toe-curling sex. Sex that left Shane thinking about Ilya months on end. Sex that left Shane buying a whole building in Montreal so they could meet discreetly. Sex that left Shane making excuses for not going out with the guys after a game.

Shane shifted his legs, looking over at the clock. He almost didn’t want to say it. Maybe if he just stayed quiet, he wouldn’t have to leave. But Ilya would ask him to at some point, he was sure, so he forced the words out of his mouth.

“I need to leave soon,” He said oh so quietly.

Ilya nodded slightly, but didn’t move, “You want to shower?”

Shane nodded, though Ilya couldn’t see, “If that’s okay, yes.”

The blond let out a small snort, forcing himself to rest on his elbow now, “Of course. Couldn’t let you leave all dirty. Might have panic attack.”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Fuck off, Rozanov.”

Ilya got closer, “Mmm, I think you like,”

Shane’s cheeks reddened at the proximity, eyes fluttering down to Rozanov’s lips, and stayed there as he responded, “Shut up,” His voice was quieter than he meant.

A smirk adorned Ilya’s face before he leaned closer, letting their lips connect just enough.

He pulled away, sitting himself up, “Shower,” The Russian accent almost demanded.

Shane sat up, though his legs felt like jello from the previous bliss he had been under not even an hour ago. Cheeks reddening at the thought, he shook his head, following Ilya toward the shower. Shane hadn’t registered that Ilya was going to shower as well. Together. With him.

That was a recipe for disaster.

And disaster, he means another blissful moment that he would think about for months on end.

Ilya leaned into the shower, turning it on. He kept his hand under the water, waiting for the warmth to come. Once satisfied, he stepped in.

“Are you coming, Hollander?” Ilya asked, making eye contact through the glass.

Ilya’s eyes were darker, and an almost sinister smirk was on his face. It made butterflies rush in Shane’s stomach, and his dick twitched in slight arousal.

Shane hadn’t realized he was still in the doorway of the bathroom, but he could feel his neck burn. He suddenly wanted to be as close to the other man as possible.

He made big steps across the bathroom, probably looking too eager but he didn’t care. The second the shower door closed behind him, Ilya’s tongue was in his mouth, and Shane accepted it greedily.

Shane’s tan hands ran through the blonds curls, across his chest, his ribs. One of Ilya’s hands was on Shane’s hip, pulling him tighter, closer. The other cupping Shane’s face. Shane let out an almost embarrassing groan, but Ilya’s lips ate the sound unforgivingly.

Shane pushed closer, though they seemed impossibly close, both under the stream of warm water. Ilya flipped him around, using the hand on his hip to push him back into the corner of the shower.

Goosebumps ran down Shane’s body at the cold tile, but then Ilya was kissing his neck and he didn’t care anymore.

“Roz,” He moaned, unapologetically.

Ilya hummed against his neck before slowly lowering himself. He kissed along Shane’s chest, letting his tongue swipe out across his nipple. The shudder through Shane’s body made the awkward stance worth it.

Ilya was on his knees, the tile digging sharply but he did not care.

“Oh god,” Shane had moaned out, hands flying into the blond curls.

Ilya took Shane’s dick in his hand, which was now completely rock hard. He gave a small, lazy stroke.

“I knew you were slut, still so horny even after I fucked you so good.”

Shane couldn’t decided if he wanted to throw his head back or watch as Ilya took his dick in his mouth. He decided he needed to watch, to see. Ilya’s knee burned but the sounds Shane made was worth the hurt.

“Oh, fuck,” The words tumbled before he could try to stop them, “Jesus, Rozanov.”

Ilya hummed and Shane let his head fall back against the wall, the sound of the water swallowing his loud moan.

Shane’s right arm lifted, bracing against the wall, while the other still tightly gripped the blond curls. He looked down again, seeing Ilya already looking up at him, watching his face.

“God, oh, please,” Shane begged though he wasn’t sure what for.

Ilya hummed again.

“Fuck, fuck,” Shane moaned, his stomach fluttering, “Shit, I’m gonna-” He cut himself off with a moan, “Fuck, Rozanov. I’m-”

Ilya suctioned his mouth, taking all of Shane into his throat.

Shane’s body collapsed into it, his moans breathless and frantic as he came down Ilya’s throat. His hand held Ilya’s head in place, though Ilya was not going anywhere.

Shane relaxed slightly, allowing Ilya to stand, but he was still panting.

Ilya smirked, “Was good, yes Hollander?”

Shane, still trying to catch his breath, opened his eyes, “Fuck off.”

They finished the shower quickly. Shane had offered to suck of Ilya, though he declined, even though it was painfully obvious how hard he was. Shane took it as Ilya’s way of telling him to leave. That he had over stayed his welcome.

Anxiety sat heavy on Shane’s chest as he got dressed. As he slipped on his shoes. AS he slipped his phone into his pocket.

Ilya had walked him to the door.

Shane scratched the back of his neck, “I guess I’ll see you next time.”

Ilya smirked, loving how flustered he made Shane, “Yes. You will.”

Shane was almost surprised when Ilya kissed him again. It wasn’t soft, or gentle, or sweet. It was rough and demanding. It made Shane wonder if they would go for round three. He already showered, but he would mind.

But they didn’t.

And Ilya pulled away.

They said a quick farwell.

And Shane walked to his room, almost sad their night was over.

His phone dinged. A text from Rozanov.

See you in Boston ;)

she woke up again, about an hour later to the sound of a page turning. she took in a deep breath as she accepted the fact that she was awake. she looked over at him. he was holding a book about…. well she couldn’t tell. without her glasses, she couldn’t read a single word.

“good morning, pretty lady.” he had whispered so softly. he was sat up in bed, his shirt off probably because she insisted that her heated blanket be on. he always ended up getting way to hot way to fast.

she groaned and smiled at him. he only ever called her pretty lady, or baby. she much preferred pretty lady although she pretends to hate it. “hi” she whispered back before moving closer. her head now rested in his lap. his arm draped across her back. the other hand rested against her head, still holding the book

“are you gonna sleep more?” he was always so gentle with her. caring. kind. accepting. he put his book down. he focused on her.

“no i don’t think so.” he smiled down at her. his dimples peaking out. his hand brushed through her slept in hair. it was so light she barely even felt it. she sat up, moving the blanket to drape around her shoulders before sitting on his lap. her head resting against his shoulder, arms around his ribs in a hug.

he pulled her closer, kissing her head, before picking up his book. she listened to each page flip, the sound of outside, the breath in his throat. she was content in this moment. content in the way he held her. content in the way the sun shined through her blinds.

she loved the way his hands felt. the callouses on his hand slightly scratching her skin. the way his fingers gripped her thigh, how they wrapped around her throat. she loved feeling his hands on her naked hips, sending shivers down her spine and butterflies in her stomach.

she loved the way he talked. around her he was more carefree, stumbling his words, tripping over his sentences. around others, he was always so confident in his words. his voice was deep and primal. yet he could say the softest of words. how his voice would whisper across her neck as he laid soft kisses.

she loved how thoughtful he was. how he would grab her favorite candy bar while getting gas. how even when she said she wasn’t hungry, he still got her something to eat. how he placed his hand on her back in crowds as he guided her through. how he would hold her water bottle she brought everywhere.

she loved how he felt. how warm and inviting he was. she liked to trace his face. the bump of his nose, the curve of his brow, the lines of his lips, the contour of his jaw. she would trace the veins on his hand, following the vein up his arms. she would sprawl her hands against his lower abdomen and watch as he would shiver as her touch

she loved the touch of his lips. always soft and lush. the gentleness he had would make her knees melt into the floor if he didn’t hold her up. the way he would kiss down her neck, under her ear, worshiping her skin with his mouth. when they first started dating she couldn’t get over kissing him. one tome, spending and hour on his lap while her hands were in his hair. his hands gripping her hips, her thighs, her butt.

she loved the way he tasted. when they kissed, she couldn’t taste his gum he had been chewing. sometimes watermelon, sometimes strawberry. he didn’t like the minty gum. she would follow her lips down his neck, down his chest. she’d leave light kisses teasing his abdomen and watch as his abs would tense, how his breath would hitch. she would kiss the tattoo where his leg and hip connected. she would take him in her mouth, feel his hands tug her hair. he tasted salty but she could never get enough.