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Ilya held Shane tightly, face turned away, rocking back and forth as the feelings he could no longer hold inside flooded out of him. Shane was a comforting weight on his lap, strong arms around him, holding Ilya together when he could not do it himself. He let Ilya take as long as he needed, saying nothing, demanding nothing.
When the tears finally stopped, Ilya turned back toward him, a hand rising automatically to cup Shane's face. He noticed that Shane's dark eyes were wet, too.
Shane kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, and finally his mouth. Not hungrily, but with an aching tenderness that almost drew another sob from Ilya's chest.
"I'm here, Ilya," Shane murmured, his expression so soft. "Tell me what you need."
Ilya released a shuddering breath, and with it, the truth that was hiding in his heart. "You. I need you."
He captured Shane's mouth in a desperate kiss, then said softly, "Take off your clothes."
Shane kissed him once more, then pulled away to comply with Ilya's instruction. Ilya's hands bunched convulsively in the hotel bedspread at his sides. It felt almost like pain not to be touching Shane, even for a moment.
Shane undressed slowly, standing just out of Ilya's reach, folding his clothes carefully over a chair. A smile tugged at the corner of Ilya's mouth. He loved that Shane did that. An endearing little quirk that was so entirely him. In that tiny moment, Ilya realized that something had shifted inside of him. He could not hide from the truth anymore. He was in love with Shane Hollander.
Ilya had known it for a while now, if he was being honest with himself, but he had done his best to push the feeling away -- to hold it at a safe distance. Because they couldn't have that. It couldn't be real. But here, now, in a hotel suite in Tampa, Florida, Ilya let himself feel the full weight of his love for Shane for the first time. It felt like drowning. It felt like flying.
When Shane stepped, naked, back into the circle of Ilya's arms, Ilya folded him close, breathing him in, kissing his beautiful chest, and then his wonderful mouth with a need that went beyond hunger. He wanted this so much. He wanted this all the time. It killed him that all around him other people got to have their casual hookups, their romances, their families out in the open, but for him and Shane there could only ever be this.
Shane drew Ilya's tank top off over his head, then sank down to kneel in front of him. Ilya raised his hips, letting Shane slide his pants and underwear off, never taking his eyes off Shane. Shane looked up at him, warm brown eyes filled with a devotion that made Ilya's heart flutter in his chest. He cupped Shane's face, thumb tracing lightly over his beautiful freckles, wondering whether Shane felt it, too.
Ilya gave a soft sigh when Shane took him in his mouth, carding his fingers through Shane's hair, reveling in the feel of him. Shane knew exactly what Ilya liked by now, but this time, he delivered it with unaccustomed gentleness.
"Come here," Ilya said hoarsely after a moment, tugging at Shane's shoulder.
They crawled up to stretch out on the bed, holding each other close, mouths blending hungrily together. Ilya loved the feel of Shane's skin against his. The warmth of him. The movement of his bones and muscles and the beating of his heart.
"Do you want to fuck me?" Shane asked softly.
"Yes," said Ilya, though the feeling went far beyond want. He needed to fuck Shane.
He had condoms and lube ready and waiting in the nightstand. He always had them with him if there was even a chance he might see Shane.
"On your back," Ilya murmured, craving the intimacy of seeing on Shane's face what his touch and his movements did to him.
Ilya rubbed the head of his cock against Shane's entrance.
"Please," Shane moaned softly.
"No more women," Ilya told him.
"No more women," Shane agreed.
"And no other men."
Shane probably thought Ilya was extracting a promise, but in truth, he was making a pledge.
"No other men." Shane's voice quaked with need. "Only you. Fuck me, Ilya."
Ilya pushed into him slowly, deliberately, drinking in the beatific expression on Shane's face as his eyes fluttered closed and his head fell back, lips parting in a moan of ecstatic welcome, legs wrapping around Ilya's hips.
Ilya made it last as long as he could, wanting to hold onto the moment forever. Shane meeting each slow, deep thrust halfway, whimpering Ilya's name over and over. The taste of the sweat on his throat. The solid muscle of his chest under Ilya's grasping fingers. The convulsive grip of his hands in Ilya's hair and on his ass. The helpless, shuddering groan when he could not hold back any longer.
The rhythmic twitch and flutter of Shane's orgasm sent Ilya over the edge with him, clinging to him as a sob wracked his chest.
It was a long moment before the pounding of blood in Ilya's ears subsided and he regained the power of speech. He raised his head, gazing down at Shane as his eyes slowly blinked open and a soft smile curved his mouth. He looked drunk and radiant, the most beautiful thing Ilya had ever seen.
"Only you, Shanka," Ilya said softly, masking the words in his native Russian and pressing a fervent kiss over Shane's heart. "You are mine. And I am yours."