Chapter Text
"Where are you going?" Ilya asked, eyes narrowing from his vantage point by the stove. Shane was busy trying to discreetly cross the kitchen while dressed in his running gear, an activity he was absolutely not supposed to be participating in.
Shane froze, looking at Ilya with confusion written through his dark eyes, brow slightly furrowed.
It was a silly response, in Ilya's opinion, because Shane really had absolutely no reason to be confused by the question. He had suffered a fairly severe sprained ankle only three weeks prior. Just the day before, the doctor had told them he still had at least one more week before he was allowed to return to his full work out routine.
It was July now, and Ilya was just thankful the injury hadn't forced Shane to miss part of the hockey season, having no idea how he would have managed. As it was, Ilya was able to focus on keeping him quiet in the cottage, away from the pressures of practice and games.
"On a run?" Shane answered. "I was cleared to work out."
"No," Ilya corrected, frowning as he recalled the doctor's exact phrasing from the day before. "You were cleared for 'light exercise'."
"Same thing."
"No, not same thing." Ilya answered, stern as he moved closer to Shane, body going to crowd him against the kitchen counter. "I know what you consider a work out."
"The doctor cleared me," the omega repeated, frowning now, stubborn as he tilted his chin up to look at his alpha. "You were there, Ilya."
"I was there," Ilya confirmed, his hands finding Shane's hips, stilling him. He spoke slowly, clearly. "Which is why I know that she said you are only cleared for light exercise. Light exercise is activities like stretching or walking, maybe a little cycling. Not running."
Ilya was often playful with Shane, enjoying their teasing, but he wasn't playing now. He spoke slowly, clearly, eyes searching Shane's face to assess how he was listening to Ilya.
"I'll go slow," Shane said, dragging out the word, huffing with exasperation, as though Ilya was being ridiculous. "My ankle is healed."
"No," Ilya answered. "Your ankle is not healed. If it were healed, we wouldn't have an appointment with the team doctor in a week to decide if you are ready to actually be cleared for your full work outs."
"I am really fine," Shane insisted, setting his jaw, nowhere close to dropping the subject.
"The answer is no." Ilya declared, wanting to escape the back and forth Shane was trying to drag him into.
He could see how the statement bothered Shane, nose crinkling with frustration. "It's not like I'm asking for your answer," he muttered.
Ilya raised his eyebrows, always surprised when Shane defaulted to brattiness. "Do you want to repeat that?"
"I said I am not asking you," Shane answered, not getting worked up, still using his own firm voice, as though this were a negotiation.
The brattiness was too blatant to ignore with that, and Ilya squeezed Shane's hip as he stepped back. "No, we are not doing this today." Ilya quickly made a decision, always attuned to what would work to bring Shane back in line. "Go get your plug and lube. Bring both back here. The medium plug, unless you need the large."
"Ilya…" Shane whined, finally abandoning his earlier stoicism, defiance fading when threatened with any sort of punishment. "I'm sorry. I don't need the plug."
"You know the rules. Bratty boys get plugged. It helps you remember to behave." Ilya continued to watch him sternly, not giving an inch.
Shane stayed put, now leaning back against the counter, dragging his feet as though Ilya was going to change his mind.
"Now," Ilya ordered. "Unless you want a spanking, too?"
That spurred the omega into action, and Ilya watched Shane's form retreat up the stairs. He disappeared for only a few minutes before returning with two items: an average sized, silver butt plug and their bottle of lube. Shane stood before Ilya awkwardly, offering him the items. Ilya could see how red Shane's face was, how the prospect of being made to wear the plug made him squirm.
Ilya was never even sure why this counted as a punishment, exactly. Wearing the plug certainly wasn't painful. The plug wasn't large, definitely not as large as Ilya's cock, which Shane didn't struggle with. Ilya never skimped on the lubricant, making sure Shane was slick enough to ease the plug's entry, and he always gave Shane a couple of fingers to open him up first. Still, Shane hated being made to wear his plug.
Ilya knew the complaints weren't for show, either. Shane's behavior truly did improve while being made to wear it, like any brattiness could just dissipate.
Ilya was inclined to believe the punishment was psychological more than anything. Shane was so eager to be good that anything Ilya framed as a 'punishment' was enough to curb bratty behavior, just the plug's heavy presence continually reminding him to watch his mouth and follow the rules. Ilya suspected that wearing the plug could keep the disagreement from escalating to something that necessitated a spanking, though he knew Shane might not see it for the kindness it was.
Ilya took the plug and bottle of lube from Shane, setting the latter on the counter before beginning his lecture. "You know, as I know, that the doctor cleared you for light exercise, which does not include running. You are lucky that I caught you before you went, or this would be a very different conversation." Ilya reached out for Shane, hand catching his bicep. "Put your hands on the counter."
"Yes, sir," Shane answered, stepping closer and reaching out to spread his palms against the counter, bending slightly at the waist.
Ilya reached out to undo Shane's drawstrings, lecturing him as he pushed his shorts down past his knees, followed by his underwear. "It is very important that you respect the doctor's timeline for your recovery. I know you are very close to being healed, but you are not going to run until the doctor clears you to run. Also," Ilya paused to pour lube onto his fingers, warming it as he continued. "I do not appreciate sass or back-talk."
With that, Ilya reached between Shane's legs and began to slowly work one finger inside of him. He was always so tight, but Ilya knew this wouldn't hurt him, moving carefully enough to avoid it. "You are going to wear the plug until bedtime, as a reminder to be good and sweet and to follow doctor's orders, okay?"
Shane squirmed slightly, widening his stance as he nodded. "Yes, sir." His face was still crimson, burning with an obvious embarrassment. It was almost endearing how something Shane normally enjoyed—just a couple of fingers—could have him so worked up when Ilya framed it as penance for bad behavior.
"Good boy," Ilya said, slipping a second finger inside, shifting them, continuing to open him up for the plug.
Once he was loose enough, Ilya worked the plug inside him, seating it well. He pulled back, landing a soft swat to his bottom. Shane was cute like this, all chastened and quiet, bent over to offer his hole to Ilya, the silver of the plug's base gleaming between creamy cheeks.
Ilya made a point of pulling Shane's underwear and shorts up, carefully rearranging them into their correct placement. "Let's watch a movie, hmm? You can pick. Go to the living room."
Ilya had little doubt about what sort of mood Shane would be in for the rest of the day. The plug always left him cuddly, if slightly pouty. He knew Shane wouldn't seek out comfort, embarrassed with the plug keeping him open, but he also knew that Shane would burrow into his arms if they sat on the couch together. Ilya was fine to provide that comfort for him, if it would keep him sweet and quiet and, most importantly, off his ankle.
Ilya suspected this would be a long week, already wondering if the plug would have to make any reappearances.