Fangirling, geeking out, etc.

In all their years exploring each other, it just never came up.

Years might be a stretch. More like snapshots of time, stolen greedily by hungry hands and mouths. Their hookups were always intense, sure, but time constraints didn’t exactly allow for much deviation.

They both knew what they liked- Ilya liked to fuck, Shane liked to get fucked. There was variation here and there, a pair of ill advised fuzzy handcuffs, some spanking and dirty talk and all those filthy little things. It just never really occurred to Ilya to switch up the formula too much.

But now?

Now they have time. Ilya is in Ottawa. Shane is in Montreal. Each meeting is still too brief, but longer than they’ve ever been used to.

It’s abrupt, the moment he chooses to bring it up. Post-orgasm haze, all sweat and heaving breath. He’s collapsed, full weight, onto Shane’s chest.

Open mouthed, lidded eyes, so disgustingly in love he thinks he might throw up. How this impossible thing is his- he can’t begin to fathom.

‘Shane.’

‘Yeah?’ Shane is just as breathless, still coming out of that fuzzy space he enters when Ilya fucks him hard and deep and fast.

‘I want you to finger me.’ Ilya says, matter of fact and with no hint of trepidation. Just hard earned confidence and ease.

‘You do?’

‘Yes. Would be hot.’

‘Have you ever-’

‘Not with anyone, no.’

There’s a momentary pause and Ilya can hear the gears turning in his boyfriend’s head, and the beginning of a thought spiral. He grabs Shane’s pec and gives it a squeeze- a playful, grounding gesture.

‘I have done it by myself. Was not very good, but I figure it would be different. With you.’ Ilya looks him in the eyes, then. Full of adoration so plain it’s etched across every line and divot in his face.

Shane is quiet, still processing- so Ilya continues.

‘Plus it seems so good for you. Always begging for it, uh?’ He grins, wolfish.

Shane’s hesitance is extremely short lived. He can’t help but smile, the statement too true to even teasingly refute.

Of course it would be different- it would be fucking hot. Insane, actually. Shane needs it immediately- needs to see Ilya experience that feeling.

The next night, they fall into bed and inevitably start making out, the hunger growing into something too big to contain.

Clothes fly off, and there’s a competition over who can get them in the laundry hamper across the room. It soon gets forgotten when every item is off and Shane is naked between Ilya’s strong, hairy thighs.

‘You still want this?’ Shane breathes into Ilya’s skin, inhaling the scent of him and getting dizzy on it.

Ilya bites his lip and nods, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a fond smile.

That smile is replaced by surprise as Shane’s large hands grope the underside of Ilya’s thighs and force them as far as they go towards his chest.

Ilya is nowhere near as flexible as Shane, so the stretch is a struggle, but nothing he can’t manage.

‘Oh..’ a choked gasp punches its way out of Ilya’s lungs as Shane licks a filthy, wet stripe over his hole.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting this to feel like, but he didn’t expect it to feel so… exposing. So intimate, and raw, and so fucking good. Is this what Shane felt every time?

Jesus.

Shane continues, fingers splayed and digging into Ilya’s flesh hard enough to bruise. Good- Ilya wants to remember this.

Torturous minutes pass as Shane works his tongue inside, and Ilya’s already panting.

‘So good for me, malchik, fuck..’

Shane pulls back a moment.

‘You like it?’ and fuck- he’s so earnest in his desire to know that he’s pleasing Ilya.

‘Fuck, yes. Your mouth, Moyà Lyubov…’

Shane re-centres himself and spits on Ilya’s hole and watches how it responds, transfixed and so fucking hard he can feel his pulse in his cock.

Ilya is just as hard, dick throbbing and jerking against his stomach untouched at the feeling of Shane’s saliva running down onto the bed, filthy and ruinous.

Shane reaches for the lube, thrown haphazardly on the side of the mattress, and squeezes a generous amount between his fingers.

‘Ready?’ He murmurs, lust bitten and eyes dark.

‘Yes, fuck. Want to feel you.’

Fingers begin circling the tightness, unyielding and showing the first sign that Ilya’s a little more nervous than he’s letting on.

‘Relax, Ilya, it’s okay.’ Shane comforts him, delicately brushing the pad of his finger over the muscle.

Ilya breathes in. Relaxes. His cock twitching and dribbling precum onto his happy trail. He may be going out of his mind.

The tip of Shane’s finger breaches, and Ilya freezes.

This feels really fucking weird. Intrusive and a little uncomfortable, and-

Oh.

Oh fuck.

There it is.

Shane presses his finger in all the way, curling it to nudge against Ilya’s prostate as he peppers gentle, barely-there kisses over the weeping head of Ilya’s cock.

Ilya’s skin is already vibrating. A deep, rumbling pleasure spreads from his gut, overtakes every limb in a warm flush that has him feeling electrified. Like the next touch might kill him.

‘Oh my god, Shane, fuck’ he rasps out.

And then he does something Shane has never experienced before, in all the years they’ve been fucking.

Ilya whimpers. High in his throat, like it was so involuntary he couldn’t stop it escaping.

His skin is flushed a deep red, and when Shane adds a second finger, he has to close his eyes so he doesn’t cum immediately.

God, Shane’s hands… his fingers are thick, and long, and so perfect. They’re so fucking deep inside him that Ilya feels like they’re in his fucking stomach.

This shouldn’t feel this revelatory, but Shane is rapidly melting Ilya into sweating mess. He looks utterly debauched- curls wild and matted to his forehead, chest rising and falling rapidly, legs and abs straining with the effort not to cum.

‘Fuck you’re so tight, so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot Ilya, love you so much.’ Shane rambles, pressing praises into Ilya’s skin with his lips.

Before he can even prepare, Shane takes Ilya’s cock in his mouth and all the way down his throat and fucking his fingers in and out of Ilya’s clenching hole in one movement.

Ilya nearly cries.

It’s so intense. The wet, suctioning heat of Shane’s perfect throat constricting his cock, the pads of Shane’s fingers brushing so deep inside him.

‘Fuck, fuck, Shane-‘ Ilya gasps, trying to warn his loving boyfriend, ‘-m’going to cum, you’re going to make me cum down your fucking throat, fuck’

A few more strokes and Ilya’s entire body is seizing up and he’s cumming in hot spurts over Shane’s tongue and gripping his fingers like a vice. The ecstasy almost tangible, like something he could reach out and grab, racks through his whole body like he’s been hit by a truck.

It’s so much longer than his usual orgasms, and by the time it subsides, Ilya’s vision has blacked out and Shane is cradling him in his arms. He doesn’t even remember Shane pulling out or coming back up to comfort him.

‘You okay?’ Shane asks into the shell of Ilya’s ear and kisses all over his face.

‘Mmf.’

Ilya’s eyes are closed and he’s trying his best to regulate his breathing and get all of his systems back online.

The first system is ‘being a little shit’.

‘Was ok. Your technique is clumsy.’ He grins, knowing full well that Shane knows he’s bullshitting. There’s no faking that much cum.

‘I guess you’ll have to teach me.’ Shane smiles dopily like a cartoon frog, all sweet and saccharine.

‘Mm. Yes, many many lessons for you to learn.’ Ilya jokes, before turning a little serious. ‘It was fucking crazy. Cant believe we did not do it before.’

‘Me too. But we’ve got time, now, right?’

‘Yes, time to work through your extensive list of sex things you want.’

‘I don’t have a list’

‘No? You don’t want me to sit on a cake for you? Tickle your balls with feathers?’

‘Oh fuck off.’ Shane smiles.

‘I love you too.’