For once, Shane actually catches onto an internet trend before Ilya - if only because JJ sends it to him and tells him he would pay good money to see Rozanov's reaction to Shane pulling this shit on him.
Ilya's pulled quite a few of these internet pranks on Shane and Harris always loves them so, eager to get one over on his husband, Shane sets up his phone, makes sure the camera is rolling, and sits down at their kitchen island with his morning smoothie. When Ilya makes his way into the room, Shane offers him a sip of his drink, which Ilya happily takes, with a softly spoken "thank you, Π»ΡΠ±ΠΎΠ²Ρ." Shane knows he doesn't like his smoothies but they've reached an agreement, where Ilya will always taste it and, in return, Shane won't make him drink a full glass.
Shane then carefully wipes off the rim of the glass with a napkin before sipping it himself.
He can see Ilya freeze up in his periphery and Shane can feel every nerve ending tingle as he desperately tries to remain nonchalant, so as to not give the prank away.
"What was that?" Ilya asks, his voice perfectly level, if slightly cold.
"Nothing," Shane tells him, trying not to vibrate out of his skin, trying not to look at the camera.
"Was not nothing," Ilya replies. "What did you do?"
Shane shrugs, "just wiped the glass."
"Why?" Shane makes the mistake of looking directly at Ilya and can feel a thrill shoot up his spine. He's not afraid of his husband but in that moment he can understand why some people are. Ilya looks imposing. His mouth a thinly drawn line, his eyes steely, arms crossed over his bare chest in a way that makes his already impressive biceps and pecs bulge out. Shane's throat suddenly feels dry.
"Hygiene?" It comes out sounding like a question, weak and croaky.
Ilya slowly raises his eyebrows before repeating Shane's answer back to him. "Hygiene," he says. He lets the word sit there between them for a while, as though to give Shane the chance to retract it.
The footage never gets shared and when JJ asks Shane if he ever went through with the prank, he blushes from the roots of his hair down to his chest. He thinks he says no. He knows it's not believable. JJ doesn't press the matter but the look in his eye makes Shane fear he knows exactly what went down. Although, he can't, can he? How could he?
There's no way he can tell, just by looking at Shane, that Ilya slowly walked over to him and grabbed his glass before tugging at the drawstring of his sweatpants, letting them drop to the floor. He can't know how Ilya took himself in hand and tugged at himself, eyes firmly on Shane who sat at their kitchen island and watched on, frozen, as Ilya brought himself to climax straight into Shane's smoothie. He can't know how he walked over to their cutlery drawer and swirled it into Shane's drink before bringing the glass back over and sitting down, watching Shane expectantly. He can't know how Shane felt like every muscle in his body had locked up as he watched the display, nor how quickly he reacted when Ilya simply said, "drink." There's no way he knows that Shane drained the glass. He doesn't know the intensity of Ilya's gaze as Shane swallowed it down. He doesn't know how he then stood and grasped Shane's face with the same hand he had brought himself off with, hooking his fingers behind Shane's bottom teeth to open his mouth, as though to ensure that he had indeed swallowed it all down, before he spat into his mouth and closed it, tilting his head back to watch Shane's Adam's apple bob as Ilya's saliva slid down the back of his throat. He doesn't know how Ilya patted his cheek before walking out of the room. He doesn't know how long Shane sat there, completely immobile, his cock fully hard and straining against his trousers, before he gained enough awareness to collect his phone and stop the recording.
There's no way he can know any of that.
