Work Text:
Shane had to admit that he felt a little foolish laying on the bed like this. Yes, he and Ilya had discussed this thoroughly (which had been a form of torture in and of itself) and he wasn’t upset to be here, of course. But it was…weird. To be completely naked, facedown on his bed in the cottage, knowing full well that Ilya was completely clothed.
It was also rather hot. His already-hard cock was aching against the sheets, and he couldn’t help but keep thinking about how vulnerable it was, to be spread out like this, just for Ilya, completely under the other man’s control. It shouldn’t have driven Shane this wild, but it did.
“Color?” Ilya drawled from somewhere above him, and Shane picked his head up from the pillow to look up and give his boyfriend a glare.
“We haven’t even started yet!” he protested, feeling himself blush. Fuck, if he was already feeling self-conscious now, just from one word…
Ilya, who was standing next to the bed on Shane’s right, simply lifted one eyebrow. “And I am to know you still want this? Consent is important, Hollander, is what the website said, don’t you remember–”
Shane distinctly remembered the multitudes of websites Ilya had insisted they read through, because every time he’d looked at one of them, he’d been left both mortified and shockingly hard. It still made him a bit dizzy to think about all of the possibilities out there, all of the things that fell under the umbrella term of ‘sex.’
It left him even dizzier to think about how much of it he wanted.
Maybe it was because it was with Ilya. He certainly couldn’t picture himself laid out like this for anyone else. Or maybe it was because now he was starting to accept everything he desired–not just men, but men taking him, fucking him, making him feel thoroughly wrecked.
Or maybe it was simply because of the heated look Ilya had given him when he’d read a few of the less-scary terms off of one of the lists. Like he wanted to take Shane apart right then and there; never let him leave the bed they were sharing.
But whatever it was, he was extremely eager to try this. He was just also…fucking terrified. And, of course, Ilya could see that. He always knew, somehow. Still, he refused to say so. “Green,” he huffed, placing his head back down on the pillow he’d made with his folded arms, rolling his eyes in the darkness.
Ilya, however, did not seem to accept this. A dip of the mattress announced his presence right next to Shane’s head, and when Shane turned again, he was nearly nose-to-nose with the other man, who was leaning over so closely to him that their lips almost brushed. “Shane,” Ilya murmured softly.
“What?” he demanded, but his voice faltered.
“You are in control here, yes? You want to stop, we stop. Now, or in five seconds, or in five minutes. Right?” His voice was low and calm, a reminder for both of them.
Shane nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah. Yeah, but…I want to try. It….I told you, it sounds…” he resisted the instinct to bite back his words. “...hot.”
Now Ilya was beaming. “Yes, of course it does, it is me. Now, we will start with one, yes? And you will tell me how it feels. Promise?"
“Promise,” Shane breathed, heart hammering loudly in his chest, moving his face to his arms again. The dark was comforting, narrowing his senses down to simply touch and sound. A rustling and shifting of weight told him that Ilya was moving, standing back up again. Shane let out a shuddering breath, trying not to tense his body as he prepared. He’d asked for this, yes, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.
He jumped when a cool hand traced lightly, almost reverently over his right ass cheek, pulling goosebumps to the surface of his skin and wrenching an involuntary moan from his throat. His cock, which had stopped begging for attention for a while, throbbed, recognizing Ilya’s touch. God, those hands.
Fingers, sliding and grabbing at sensitive skin, kneading at his muscles and gripping his flesh to make crescent-shaped marks in the globes of his ass. He lost himself in the way Ilya seemed to obsess over him, giving him the attention that he secretly craved more than anything. Melting into bedsheets, he shivered and whined, allowing the pleasure to sizzle in his stomach and build at the base of his cock.
And then, without warning, one of Ilya’s hands pulled away, only to land back on Shane’s right asscheek with a soft crack!
The sound Shane let out was inhuman. The bright pain that shot through his body paved the way for aching pleasure, crackling sparks of hurt bursting over his skin as he gripped the sheet and rolled his hips, searching for friction. “F–fuck,” he gasped, heaving air into his suddenly-empty lungs.
“Now, is important I get color,” Ilya murmured, voice full of amusement, concern, and dripping desire.
Shane didn’t have time to think. The words slipped from his lips before he could think about them, before he could be sufficiently embarrassed about them. He just answered, his brain too focused on making sense of the painpleasure throbbing in his lower body to care about something as trivial as words. “Green,” he gasped. “So fucking green.”
There was silence. For a sickening moment, Shane thought maybe Ilya hadn’t liked it, and he made to roll over to make eye contact, to remind him that Ilya could say no as well.
But then fingers again traced over his now-slightly-angry skin, making him collapse back onto the bed.
“You like this,” Ilya murmured, not really asking, just commenting.
Still, Shane nodded into his arms. “Yes,” he whispered nervously, loud enough for Ilya to hear.
“You like when I make you hurt, Hollander? Why? You want to feel me later?” The last question was a growl, Ilya’s fingers gripping his ass hard, making Shane whimper and press into the sheets again, his cock beginning to drip pathetically.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Always.” It was true. The idea of Ilya’s handprint on his ass made him so hard it hurt, but articulating that now was a bit difficult. “Please.”
The sound of Ilya’s shaky breathing told Shane that he was affected by this, that he was probably hard, too. But rather than removing any clothing or coming closer, the other man simply said, “We will do five more, I think. Is good for first time. And if you can be a good boy and take it, I will…reward you.”
Shane couldn’t decide which of these words and phrases turned him on the most. ‘Five more’? ‘Good boy’? ‘Take it’? ‘Reward’? It all sounded terrifyingly fabulous, so he nodded fervently into his arms and muttered, “Yes, green, yes, Ilya, c’mon, just–”
Crack!
Shane gasped, body curling at the contact, groan escaping him. The sharp sting of pain to his ass seemed to dissolve into sickly-sweet pleasure instantly, shooting to his cock and making him ache all over, his fists clenching shut and his muscles tightening. He could feel the skin on his ass turning red and the idea of it made him so damn hard, he wanted more, he needed–
“Count for me, moya lyubov,” Ilya murmured softly, his low voice honey in Shane’s ringing ears, somehow reaching him over the pounding of his heart and the shuddering of his breath.
“One,” he gasped, groaning. He didn’t want any more. He wanted a million more. He wanted Ilya to take him apart completely, to leave him a broken mess.
Crack!
This time, he cried out, soft scream muffled against skin and fabric. But it wasn’t a bad scream…it was a scream of release. The way the pain–building now–washed over his furious skin and sank into his body, morphing into deep, aching pleasure and need. He rutted into the bed, biting at his lip, pressing his straining cock and gasping at the contact. He could feel the wet spot he was leaving, feel how desperate he was.
Why did he want more? It was strange, the way the pain put him in a trance. The adrenaline and endorphins it seemed to be pulling from his system, the way his body seemed to be desperate for even the roughest of touches at Ilya’s strong, sure hands.
Fuck, he was supposed to be counting. “Two,” he mumbled.
“Good,” Ilya praised softly, adoringly, and Shane nearly came. God, he wanted another, he needed to hear that again.
Crack!
He felt a single tear in his eye as his back bowed this time, his muscles shuddering and clenching before relaxing more than they had before. The heat of the pain licked over his thighs and around to his balls, ass tingling with Ilya’s sinful touch, entire lower body lit up with a gnawing need to come. His brain was shutting off completely and, oh, it was the best feeling. This, right here, was all he needed to do. Lay out and let Ilya do what he wanted to him. Belong to the other man. Nothing else mattered right now, nothing except this. Taking this.
He felt like he was floating, the throbbing on his ass and between his legs the only thing anchoring him to reality. He needed more, he needed to float higher. Moaning, he fucked into the mattress and mumbled, “Ilya…more.”
“What is number, Shane?”
He nearly swore. What did it matter, really, how many times Ilya had spanked him? He felt amazing, and he needed more, needed to lay like this for Ilya forever. But just as quickly as that desire came to him, it went away…because he also desperately wanted to please the other man.
Straining his brain and working to clear the clouds away, he took a moment before he murmured, “Three.”
“Good boy. Fuck, Shane, you are doing so well for me. So fucking perfect like this, you have no idea…”
“Fuck,” he echoed, toes curling and cock kicking.
Hands traced over the base of his spine, followed by lips that made Shane whimper. “What is your color, darling? I can try harder?”
“G-green.” Yes, he wanted that. He wanted to be good. He wanted to feel Ilya mark his skin so completely it would never leave.
Crack!
The next was harder. Enough that he moaned loudly into his arms and shocked tears slipped down his face. The muscles in his ass quivered and he felt it now: real heat on the skin Ilya had been giving so much attention to. It truly sparked with pain, but he was also, somehow, in ecstasy. Taking in Ilya’s shuddering, clearly turned-on breaths, feeling the way his skin was reacting to the rough touch. And hearing Ilya mutter, over and over, “Fuck, Shane. Look at you take that. Fuck, you are so–fuck.”
“Four,” he uttered in a wrecked voice, unable to fully comprehend everything happening. It was his achingly hard cock, seconds from exploding into the sheets. It was the desperate need to be good for Ilya, to take everything Ilya gave him and then some. It was the way he was floating in space but anchored to the bed, unable to even fathom thinking of anything other than this, safe from his constant rumination and anxiety. It was the way that it was them: just them, always them.
Crack!
The last time left him reeling. Sobbing into his arms and more turned on than he ever had been in his entire life, he was a complete mess, shivering and moaning Ilya’s name, body completely out of his control. In the back of his mind, he heard it: Ilya whispering completely wrecked praise into his ear, not letting up on the things he said as he pressed kisses over his goosebump-covered skin. “You are perfect, Shane” and “You were amazing” and “Fuck, you make me so hard, you–”
But Shane was out of his mind. Trembling and desperate and feeling more needy than he ever had in his life, he just lay, hoping Ilya would somehow know what he craved, what he needed more than air at this point. He might die without it, actually.
Thankfully, Ilya knew. He always did.
“Reward now, yes? Fuck, you did so well.”
When Ilya disappeared from his side, Shane nearly cried out. Begged for him to come back. But then he felt him crawling between his legs, pressing kisses to the furious skin now throbbing on his ass.
“This,” Ilya murmured, biting lightly and soothing his tongue over the irritated skin, “this is fucking insane, Hollander. You are not playing fair, you know? You think I will be able to be calm tomorrow, visiting your family, knowing you have mark of my hand here? You are clearly trying to drive me crazy, so you can win all of the cups.” He licked slowly up the crack of Shane’s ass, making him let out a garbled, nonsensical moan.
Fingers pried Shane’s cheeks open, the cool air hitting his hole and making him press into the sheets.
“You cannot do these things to me, moya lyubov,” Ilya admonished slowly, breath whispering against Shane’s sensitive skin and making him let out little wanton sounds. “Is going to make us both look bad, you know. And I know you want to be so good.”
Then, Ilya began licking him with slow, practiced reverence. His tongue traced firm, unhurried, delicious patterns around his rim, driving Shane completely out of his mind, the pressure making him buck and groan, tears rolling down his face again as his whole body ached, his orgasm building like an inferno inside him. He needed Ilya. Needed him inside him, around him, all over him. Unable to communicate that with words, Shane shifted, reaching under himself for his cock, only to feel a small swat to his arm.
“No. You come on my tongue, moya lyubov,” Ilya whispered, biting his painful skin. “You can do it, I know you can.”
He felt a sob wrack his chest, but removed his hand and lay, finally giving up the last of his control, letting Ilya take him apart.
“You are so fucking obedient for me,” Ilya murmured, sliding a thumb into Shane’s hole and stretching him, making him moan. “What would the world say, hm? If they saw Shane Hollander now, letting me fuck him like this?”
Responses like ‘fuck you’ and ‘asshole’ came to mind, but they all disappeared for favor of a gasped, “They’d know.”
Ilya, who had now spit on his hands and slid a second thumb inside him, gently prying him apart, froze. “Know what?” he asked, voice deadly calm.
“M’yours,” Shane groaned, the thumbs inside him making him feel so full he was about to burst. “Fuck, Ilya, I–ah!”
A pressure of a finger on his prostate, Ilya’s gruff voice: “Prove it. Come on my tongue, Shane.”
Then, Ilya’s thumbs holding him open while the man unashamedly fucked Shane open with his tongue.
Shane lost it. Nonsense spewing from his mouth; he cursed and begged, body covered in drool and tears and sweat. He felt Ilya’s face, his entire weight, rocking into him over and over in a rhythm, grinding him into the bed as Ilya pressed to get his tongue deeper, so deep that Shane’s toes curled and his stomach caught on fire. He was so close, so close, his orgasm building so high he could feel it in every cell of his body, he just needed–
Fingernails grazed over his red-raw skin, reminding him of what Ilya had done, and he screamed, cock exploding with his release. Shaking so hard he saw stars, Shane clenched around Ilya’s still-moving tongue, a loud, long moan on his lips.
And when he finally collapsed on the ruined bed, he let out a soft whine, body exhausted.
But Ilya was there. Like lightning, he was up next to Shane, scooping him into his arms, mumbling reassurances into his ears as Shane floated in the aftermath of his orgasm, his mind empty and blissful. Coming back from this–from sex with Ilya, especially after he took control–it always took Shane a while. Like slowly reeling in a huge fish on a fishing line, he felt he was coming back from a very faraway place, aided by Ilya’s embrace and soft kisses. It took longer than usual, though, tonight. He hardly noticed the way the other man rolled him over and took a nearby cloth. He then wiped Shane’s face, then body, repeating adoring phrases in Russian and English under his breath. In fact, he didn’t say a single word until Ilya began to work a cool cream into the red-hot aching skin of his ass.
“Fuck,” he moaned, rolling a bit.
“Do not move back, you will get all dirty again,” Ilya muttered, still massaging his skin. “And do not wipe this off, is good for…after.”
“After?” Shane asked, weakly smirking up at him.
“Yes, after,” Ilya said simply, placing the cream aside and climbing back in bed with him. “How are you? How is your color?”
Shane snorted, feeling more relaxed than he had in ages. “I think you’re supposed to ask what my color is. And I’m good, I–” but then, to his horror, he realized: “Fuck, I didn’t even…you still have your clothes on! Shit, d’you want me to–?” he shifted, making a motion to Ilya’s cock.
But for the first time, the other man looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Um…won’t be necessary,” Ilya murmured, curling his body a little away from Shane.
Shame washed over Shane’s body, and he was sure he’d done something wrong. “I…was I not g–did you not like it?” he asked, struggling to keep from looking too much like a kicked puppy. “S’okay, if you don’t want to do this again, you know.”
“Hollander, you are so stupid,” Ilya snapped, but he was smirking, a blush on his cheeks. “You think I did not like? I liked so much, my dick acted like yours. Look!”
And now Shane got a better look, his eyes narrowing in on Ilya’s crotch. Ilya’s very wet crotch. “You came untouched? In your pants?” he breathed, trying and failing not to sound too gleeful about this development.
“No,” Ilya replied, grimacing and flushing deeper. “I simply pissed my pants. Or, that is what I will tell anyone who asks. “Is less embarrassing.”
Shane let out a shout of laughter, rolling half on top of Ilya. “No, Rozanov, now you have no reason for teasing me!” he insisted, pinning him down. “Damn, that’s–” but then he thought about it for a second, and the laughter faded a little from his voice, “--that’s hot,” he admitted.
“Yes. It is when I do it,” Ilya smirked. “Anything is hot when I do it.”
“Asshole,” Shane said, rolling his eyes affectionately, making himself more comfortable on Ilya’s chest. “You think you’re funny now, but just wait until tomorrow, when we see my parents. You’re going to have to hold yourself together, even when I lie to them and tell them I…bruised my tailbone, or whatever, and that’s why I’m sore.”
Ilya’s eyes went dark and his grin widened as he rolled them both over. “I give you..what is it called? Hickey, then? So they are not confused by your offensive lies?”
For a moment, Shane almost considered it–it was summer, there was nobody to see it– until he felt something damp on his back. “Fuck!” he groaned, shoving Ilya off him and sitting up. “I need to shower, I’m all sticky.”
Ilya just winked, sending him a crooked smile. “Is statement or invitation?”
Shane rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest when Ilya followed him into the en-suite.