actually i lied i do have more to say about this like. a lot more.
so theres this ad in ep 3 that shane models for right. it’s a fake brand with a dumb name. but he looks hot.
so let’s say this is a luxury menswear brand. and lets say the co-owners of said brand just recently rolled into montreal. weird guys, tall, both some flavor of european that is difficult to place. they started their company overseas, but want to bring it to the north american market. the first billboard in montreal that the two of them see has shane hollander’s face on it, because montreal is a rabid hockey town. their athletes are their advertisers here.
and the boy is so very, very pretty.
they look him up. they call his people. they want to sign him as a brand ambassador immediately. the money they offer for this is frankly a vulgar amount. and they’re prepared to triple it if it means this lovely specimen of a man will wear their suits and let them plaster their company name over his perfect body.
and they are very, very keen on a private meeting with him. dinner at their home. just to three of them. it’s the first time shane’s ever met the owners of a brand he’s worked with, and he’s nervous. flattered, but nervous. his mom has always told him to at least bring a bottle of wine when invited to dinner, but the woman on the phone was very specific in telling him he was only to bring himself and nothing else to their penthouse, so that’s what he does. he knocks, empty handed, and the door opens before his arm can drop.
the man who answers is tall. incredibly tall. built. dark, wavy hair, glinting eyes, strong brow and jaw. he smiles and asks shane to please come inside. he introduces himself as cliff marzanov.
“and this,” he announces as they step into the dining room, where another man is standing with an expectant smirk on his face, “is my husband, ilya.”
and shane nearly falls through the floor, because what the fuck do you mean, husband. he had no idea the owners of the brand were gay married men. this is… not good. probably. it’s too close to home. what if people start talking? he’s so deep in the closet he’s almost found narnia, but still. the connection might be too much. so now he has to gently decline to represent them without making himself look like -
“you are nervous,” the husband - ilya - purrs, blue-green eyes pinning him where he stands. “sit, please. my love will bring your meal in.”
and shane wants to say no, but he can’t. he’s snared by those eyes, that laughing cupid’s bow mouth, the golden curls that catch the low light just so. he sits. cliff prowls into the kitchen. he brings out a covered platter like the fucking movies, sets it before him, and lifts off the lid. the most gorgeous, fragrant steak dinner is plated before him, seasoned and garnished to perfection.
shane eats. the marzanovs do not. they sip a dark red wine and exchange glances and smile between sentences. they chat about the boring shit, about their brand, what they do, what drew them to reach out to shane. shane forces himself to be normal and try to relax. god, the steak is good, albeit bloody as hell.
eventually, dinner finished, the three of them move to the living room. shane sits woodenly in an expensive-looking armchair while the marzanovs take the couch. theres more than enough room for both of them, yet ilya settles right on cliff’s lap, arms slung around his neck, eyes hooded and openly adoring. they kiss right in front of shane, and god damn him, his entire body burns. he’s aroused and envious and ashamed of both of those feelings. he knows he should look away. but he can’t. he watches ilya slip his tongue into his husband’s open mouth and wants it so badly it feels like a fist in his gut.
“sweet boy,” cliff sighs when ilya leans away, and shane starts as he realizes he’s talking to him. his brown eyes lock onto shane like a falcon’s talons around its kill. shane gets the strangest feeling that he suddenly cannot lie to this man. anything he asks of him, he will tell the truth whether he wants to or not.
his heart pounds as if he’s being chased.
“have you ever been with another man, shane?” cliff asks.
“have you ever wanted to be?”
“yes.” it’s a confession that normally couldn’t have been waterboarded out of him, yet now it’s torn from his mouth so easily. tears prick in his eyes, but he can’t seem to shut up. “so badly. i want that all the time.”
cliff looks up at ilya. ilya looks down at cliff. they grin at each other wolfishly, then turn back to shane. the base, animal part of his brain is screaming at him to run, but he can’t. those eyes are on him, and he’s gone. he’s theirs.
“come here,” says ilya, reaching for shane, inviting him over.
shane stands. he crosses the room. cliff shifts and spreads his legs wider. he pats his unoccupied thigh, and shane sits on it. he’s solid muscle beneath him, and both of them are strangely cold despite how hot shane feels under his collar. cliff slides an arm around shane’s hips and tugs him against his chest. ilya leans toward him, nuzzling against shane’s throat.
“he’s so beautiful,” ilya sighs. he’s not talking to shane. he’s talking about him.
“he is,” cliff agrees, his big hand sliding around shane’s front, palming his aching hard cock through his pants. shane gasps, twitching into the touch involuntarily. “ohh, and he makes such pretty noises, my love.”
ilya takes shane’s hand in both of his, turning his palm up and pushing his sleeve back to expose his wrist. his lips brush the pulse point there, and shane can’t hold back the moan that breaks free from his throat. every lewd, wild fantasy he’s ever had about other men is coming true so quickly he can’t keep up.
“taste him, beloved,” cliff purrs, cradling shane against him now. his grip feels like stone. shane goes limp like a rabbit in the wolf’s jaws. his instincts tell him not to fight. not to run. just submit. “just a sip.”
shane might as well not even be there for the searing, weighted look ilya gives cliff as their eyes meet. those blue eyes never falter from his husband’s as he opens his mouth, canines suddenly sharp and piercing.
ilya bites down, and shane’s blood floods his mouth.
andulkaphoto
areudirty
2087
stormborns
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
titsay
snowghoul
