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Shane chokes, coughs and sits back on his heels with a frustrated huff. Ilya chuckles. He’s on his back in the centre of the plush bed. All the pillows (and there are many) are in a chaotic pile so he’s propped up comfortably with his arms behind his head. Shane can’t help but notice how good his arms look bent back like that. He blinks, returning his focus to Ilya’s face. He’s smirking.
‘Eyes bigger than your stomach, Hollander?’ he says, smiling wider as Shane glares at him.
‘No,’ Shane says indignantly, ‘and that doesn’t make any sense.’
Ilya shrugs like he doesn’t care to make sense. He takes hold of his cock at the base. Shane can see where it’s still wet with his spit. Ilya’s eyes flick up to his face. Shane looks back, feeling Ilya’s gaze on him like a physical weight. It’s not an unpleasant feeling.
‘You want to try again?’ Ilya asks, voice softening. He’s not teasing now. Even Shane can tell that.
‘Yeah, okay,’ Shane says. He knows the value of practice better than anyone. He moves forward again, putting his weight on his hands that are pressed on the mattress either side of Ilya’s hips. He lowers his mouth to take Ilya’s cock back inside.
It had started on the ice, as most things did with Ilya. Shane had been waiting (watching Ilya warm-up). The way he somehow moved like he was weightless despite all his bulky gear and helmet is endlessly fascinating to Shane.
Behind him he’d heard a group in the stands chatting. They’d been chatting about Ilya. Or perhaps more accurately Ilya’s cock. And its rumoured dimensions. Shane had been glad he’d had his mouth guard in or he couldn't have vouched for what his face would have been doing otherwise. One comment — that Ilya would be all but impossible to deep throat — had stuck in Shane’s head. It thought, and the hot shivery feeling that came with it, had been spinning through his head for the entire match.
Now he’s here on his knees in front of the rumoured monster cock. And he’s determined to swallow it down whole. He doesn’t care if it takes the entire season for him to do it, he’s going to do it. He starts to suck, head bobbing. He takes a little more of Ilya’s cock with each dip of his head. He feels the blunt head brush against his soft palette. He swallows down a gag. He presses harder, trying to force his way past the discomfort. He chokes again.
‘Hollander!’ Ilya grunts. His hand is in Shane’s hair. He doesn’t pull it. He never does. Even when Shane thinks he might like him to. ‘You’ll make yourself sick doing it like that,’ he says, hand on Shane’s forehead now to nudge him back.
‘I won’t,’ Shane says, sitting up again.
‘You will,’ Ilya says, pushing up on his elbows. ‘I’m a big man. I know it.’
‘Ew stop,’ Shane says, scrunching up his nose in embarrassment. Ilya laughs.
‘You want me to show the way again?’ Ilya smirks at him again, eyes gleaming from under his eyelashes. Shane swallows.
‘Yes,’ he says too quickly. Ilya chuckles. He’d already joked about Shane’s complete lack of refractory period more than once. He’d already sucked him off. A demonstration, he’d claimed. Shortly after Shane had mumbled and blushed his way through what he’d overheard and what he wanted to do about it. Ilya sits up and gestures for Shane to take his place on the pillow pile.
‘So you start like this-’ he says, tip of his pink tongue dipping to the head of Shane’s cock.
‘I know how to give a blow job,’ Shane says crossly. He does. He’d watched an awful lot of clips on PornHub.
‘We begin at the beginning,’ Ilya says, flicking his hip bone. Shane yelps, making Ilya grin wider. ‘To achieve this you must be focused, and you must relax.’
‘Okay,’ Shane says, words catching as Ilya takes more of his cock into his mouth. Shane shifts his hips up just slightly. Ilya groans in his throat. His eyes have gone unfocused in that way Shane now knows he’s really enjoying himself. He sucks and licks, mouth working the entire length of Shane’s cock.
Shane can feel the muscles in his thighs twitching. He’s so sensitive from coming once already that he can already feel his edge. His hands flex on Ilya’s shoulders. He lets his fingers walk up the back of Ilya’s neck before they sink into his curls. He’s finding it difficult to concentrate on Ilya’s technique as he swallows him down. He feels the muscles in his stomach tense.
‘Roz-’ he gasps and Ilya’s eyes flick up to his face before they dip back down. His hands grip firmly at Shane’s hips as he presses close. He’s so close his nose is buried in the dark thatch of hair at the base of Shane’s cock. Shane can feel the head of his cock glide over Ilya’s soft palette and into his throat. He groans, spine curving. His hips want to buck so badly but Ilya’s got him held tight. He moans again as he feels Ilya’s muscles squeeze around his cock as he swallows. He swears and squirms and comes straight down Ilya’s hot, clenching throat.
‘See?’ Ilya says, popping off his cock and swallowing, ‘is easy, right? You relax and it just slips in.’ Shane stares at him for a moment, too spaced by the orgasm to answer.
‘S-slips in?’ Shane chokes out, spluttering at the straightforwardness of his words. Ilya shrugs. Shane pushes himself up, blood still pounding in his ears. They trade places again. Ilya gives a luxurious stretch as he flops back on the bed. Shane feels his cheeks heat as he watches Ilya’s taut stomach flex. He clambers between Ilya’s legs and wriggles down on his elbows. Shane focuses on Ilya’s cock. He takes a breath. He needs to focus. He takes another deeper breath. Ilya groans with feeling.
‘Get on with it, Hollander,’ he says.
‘Don’t speak,’ Shane says, ‘I’m trying to focus.’
‘My god, Hollander,’ Ilya groans again, scrubbing his hands over his face, but he’s smiling indulgently when Shane’s eyes flick up to glare at him. Shane feels a weird kick in his chest. He looks down again. He tries not to think about why Ilya smiling at him made his pulse spike, when he’s already on his stomach on the mattress, nose an inch from his cock. Shane pushes the thought away, wriggling forwards on his belly and taking Ilya’s cock into his mouth. He takes a moment to centre himself.
Ilya looks like he’s going to speak again. Shane lets his front teeth brush the head of his cock — a tacit threat — and Ilya closes his mouth, still smirking. Shane lets his tongue stroke the underside of his cock. Ilya moans. Shane feels his thighs twitching inwards. He likes that. He likes feeling Ilya desperate for him. He pulls back until Ilya’s cock nearly slips from his mouth before he slides all the way back down. Ilya grunts appreciatively, hand smoothing over Shane’s shoulder.
Shane takes a breath through his nose. He wants to do this so badly. He wants to win. He presses closer to Ilya. Not fast this time but steadily so he has time to get used to the intrusion and the lack of oxygen doesn’t make him panic and gag. He feels the head of Ilya’s cock brush against the back of his tongue. This time it feels sort of good. He can feel his jaw stretch as he takes in more of Ilya. The thick cock is making him feel stuffed up and full to the brim in the same way having it in his ass did. His cock throbs between his thighs.
Shane takes another breath, letting it out slow, as he swallows another inch. He’s so close to Ilya now it feels like electricity is sparking between their skin. He feels Ilya’s coarse pubes brush his nose and tries not to twitch it. Ilya moans again, palms sweating on Shane’s skin. Shane swallows his cock to the hilt. He can feel his throat fluttering and clenching around Ilya’s cock. He feels Ilya shudder hard as second before a flood of hot come fills his mouth.
Shane does choke trying to swallow all of Ilya’s load and has to sit back coughing. At least Ilya looks so fucked out from the orgasm that he’s not laughing at him. Shane quickly wipes his mouth.
‘What?’ he mutters when he sees Ilya looking at him. He’s smiling again. Shane wishes he would stop doing that. Or maybe he wishes he would never stop.
‘Well done,’ he says, using his knuckles to smudge away some of the snot and tears on Shane’s chin. Shane feels his cheeks burn, both at the touch and the compliment. He quickly turns from Ilya to snag a t-shirt, where it had been thrown on the floor, and wipe it over his face.
‘Thanks,’ Shane says. He wishes he hadn’t dived for his t-shirt and wasn’t now sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. ‘Do-do you want the first shower?’ he says, not knowing what else to say.
‘Go ahead,’ Ilya says, with a contented yawn and a big stretch. ‘We can try this again next time, I think.’
‘Sure,’ Shane says, getting up quickly so Ilya can’t see him blush with pleasure at his words.