Chapter Text
“Fuck,” Shane swore under his breath, yanking at the tangled laces of his Reeboks and cursing his mother for again renewing his contract as a brand ambassador. “Fuck–shit!” he exclaimed furiously, losing his balance and nearly tumbling to the floor as he hastily tried to remove his stubborn shoes.
A low chuckle just distracted him further. Hunched over, body leaning against the wall, foot balancing on his opposite knee, one hand still fidgeting with the knot, Shane looked up, glowering.
Ilya Rozanov’s answering smile was brighter than the sun. “Wow,” he commented easily, eyes roving over Shane hungrily as he watched him struggle. “You seem eager. Someplace to be?”
“Fuck off,” Shane muttered, looking back down at his shoe.
But he could feel Ilya’s gaze on him. He could feel Ilya making plans about what to do with him next, just as soon as he removed these damn things and got into the fucking house. It had been weeks–weeks since they’d seen each other, weeks since they’d touched, weeks since they’d…
“Screw it,” he muttered, yanking the shoe off and throwing it in the direction of the door, sending the other one after it. He could untangle the laces later. Right now, he needed–
Ilya’s hands grabbed for him, pressing him against the wall quickly, stealing his breath from his lungs as he claimed him in a kiss so desperate Shane completely forgot that shoes existed, let alone that he’d done something as insane as not properly untie his.
But when Ilya pulled back, he sent Shane an amused look. “You left a mess, moya lyubov. My cock is that important? I am honored.”
“You’re an asshole,” he shot back, but all of the fire that should have been in his tone had been put out by lust and mortifying adoration.
The taller man just grinned. “Da. But I am yours, so, is fair. Now, let’s go to the bedroom before you change your mind.”
Shane snorted, turning to race his boyfriend to the bedroom. He would never change his mind.