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It was Yuna Hollander’s fault that Ilya was in this situation, really. Her son’s too, he supposed, considering he was the one bringing the glass bottle of novelty ginger ale to his lips in a way that made Ilya wish Shane’s mouth was being put to better use. But still, Yuna’s fault for buying said ginger ale in the first place. ‘I thought it would be fun for movie night!’ Yes, well, now I cannot stop thinking about your son sucking my –
He startled when a strong hand came to clasp his shoulder from behind the couch where he was sitting, shaking it lightly.
“Earth to Ilya,” David said, chuckling.
Ilya’s face turned beet red; he could feel it, and judging by the smile on Shane’s face, it must’ve been visible too.
“Hm? Sorry, I was – thinking.”
“Hopefully about how to beat San Francisco next weekend,” Yuna commented, sitting down next to Shane on the couch caddy-corner to the one Ilya was on with a bowl of popcorn in hand.
Ilya smiled. “Yes. Fuck San Francisco.”
“Right up the butt,” Yuna agreed.
David exclaimed, “Yuna!” at the same time that Shane said, “Mom!”
“What? Am I not allowed to say that now because you guys –”
“Do not finish that sentence or we’re leaving,” Shane warned with what Ilya thought was a very adorably serious look.
“Seriously, Yuna!” David scolded, shaking his head while simultaneously trying to hold back a laugh. But then one bubbled out of Ilya’s pursed lips, and Yuna and David joined in while Shane glared at all of them with flared nostrils.
“I hate you all,” he said, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face.
“You are terrible liar,” Ilya replied, turning his head to look up at David, whose hand had left his shoulder, but was still standing behind him. “Sorry. You were asking me something, yes?”
“Oh, yeah. Did you want some popcorn?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Extra butter for him, Dad,” Shane said.
“If it is no trouble,” Ilya added, shooting a look in Shane’s direction that said, ‘don’t make me an inconvenience’. As comfortable as Ilya was with Shane’s family – more comfortable than he had ever been with his own – he still wasn’t used to being taken care of in all the small ways that they were so effortlessly good at.
“No trouble at all,” David reassured him, with a soft pat on his shoulder. “One popcorn, extra butter coming up. And then we can get this show on the road!” He clasped his hands together in excitement as he disappeared into the kitchen, and both Yuna and Shane rolled their eyes.
“Honestly, you’d think it’s his first time watching this movie,” she said. “Ilya, honey, just know he is so excited for you to see it for the first time, and that it is also not nearly as good as he thinks it is.”
“I heard that!” David yelled from the kitchen.
“Yes,” Ilya chuckled. “Shane told me it is –”
“Great. I said it’s a great movie. One of my favorites.” It was Shane’s turn to pin Ilya with a glare.
A faint, disbelieving, “Uh-huh” was heard from the other side of the wall.
Ilya watched as Shane took another sip of his ginger ale, and his head was instantly flooded with all the same dirty thoughts again. His eyes honed in on his husband’s soft, plump lips, and he was starting to dread the next two hours that he was going to have to spend watching him continue to drink his stupid drink from across the room while pretending to focus on a movie. He debated pretending not to feel well, just so he and Shane would have an excuse to go back to the cottage, but he knew Shane would be uncomfortable with lying to his parents and David would be bummed, so he wasn’t really seeing a way out of this situation. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun. He smirked to himself and pulled out his phone, shooting off a text to the man sitting across from him.
Ilya
When we get home, you are sucking my dick.
Shane nearly choked on his ginger ale as he read the text, looking daggers at his husband, who was practically beaming with pride at the pink creeping up on Shane’s cheeks.
“Alright, here you are,” David said, taking a seat next to Ilya and handing him a bowl of popcorn.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” David replied distractedly, as he searched around and in-between the couch cushions. “Yuna, where’s the remote?”
“Coffee table,” she replied, not even looking up from her phone.
“Ah.” David grabbed it off the table. “Okay, you guys ready?”
“Yep,” Shane said half-heartedly, Ilya’s text the only thing on his mind.
“Wow. You are a terrible liar,” David replied with a chuckle as he slowly navigated to the movie of choice for the night and pressed play, settling into the couch with his own small bowl of popcorn in his lap.
Shane looked back down at his phone as the opening credits rolled, chewing on his lip as he decided how he wanted to play this. He could roll over, submit like he usually did. Like he enjoyed doing. But the brazenness of Ilya sending a text like that while Shane’s own mother was sitting next to him was making him want to be bold, too. Maybe even a little defiant. Because who the fuck did Ilya think he was?
Shane
Fuck you. How about you suck my dick?
It took Ilya a few minutes to pick up his phone again. To Shane, he seemed to be totally content to sit and watch the entirety of this stupid movie.
Ilya raised his eyebrows at Shane’s words – not used to the defiance in them. But it wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, it was making Ilya’s dick twitch, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to Shane’s.
Ilya
Are you hard? You look like you are hard.
Shane shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the couch, confirming Ilya’s suspicions.
Ilya
Are you thinking about my cock? Do not worry, you will have it in couple hours.
Shane
Fuck off.
Ilya raised his eyebrows directly at Shane for a split second before responding.
Ilya
Watch your mouth, малыш (malysh / little one). Or you will be getting a lot more than just my dick.
Shane glowered at him, waiting for Ilya’s eyes to meet his again. When they did, in what was probably Shane’s most defiant act to date, he rolled his own so obnoxiously hard he felt dizzy afterwards. Ilya briefly looked over at David, and then to Yuna, both of whom were engrossed in the first scenes playing out on the TV. Then he shot Shane a look that said ‘are you sure you want to keep this up?’, to which Shane responded with a barely-there shrug, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into the couch, pretending to watch the movie.
Of course he wanted to keep this up. He wanted to push every single button Ilya had until he broke. Usually he preferred to just hand himself over to Ilya, mind and body, to let Ilya do with him as he pleased. It had been a while since he’d felt the urge to fight back, but one quick glance at Ilya’s face only spurred him on. Tonight, he was exactly where he wanted to be. And he had Ilya exactly where he wanted him, too.
Ilya’s jaw ticked in annoyance, his cock only growing harder at his husband’s bratty behavior. While Shane was typically quick to submit — ‘yes, Sir’’s and all — every once in a while he would push back. And Ilya relished in it. The fire in Shane’s eyes when he was pushing Ilya’s buttons, the confidence that came hand-in-hand with being so defiant, the moment when he slipped into a headspace so deep, where he was nothing but a drowsy, crying mess that Ilya had taken apart and then got to put back together — Ilya was eager to remind him of who was in charge. Figuratively speaking, of course. He was under no illusions as to who actually held all the cards in this relationship – there was nothing Shane could ask of him that he wouldn’t do. And right now, Shane was asking to have his attitude checked, and Ilya was more than happy to oblige.
Ilya
Ok. If that is how you want to play, we can play.
Shane ignored the buzz of his phone in his hand.
Ilya
Oh so you are ignoring me now too?
Ilya
Shane
Ilya
Shane
Ilya
Shane
“Honestly, Shane, either check your texts or put your phone on silent! I can barely hear the movie over all that buzzing!”
Ilya smiled to himself. Thank God for Yuna Hollander.
“Sorry, Mom,” Shane grumbled, before silencing and checking his phone. He unsuccessfully fought back a smirk as he read the texts on his screen, trying to gauge how much trouble he’d be in if he just continued to ignore them. Not enough, he decided. He could do better.
Shane
Go
Shane
Fuck
Shane
Yourself
Ilya couldn’t remember the last time Shane acted out like this. Usually, when Shane behaved like this, it was because they had been away from each other too long. But they had been living together, playing on the same team together, going to bed together, waking up together, spending the day together, for the last 6 months. Doubts began to creep into Ilya’s head about whether Shane might actually be upset with him.
Ilya
Are you are just acting like brat to act like brat? Or is there something wrong?
Shane
I’m acting like someone who is getting sexted while I’m sitting next to my mom
The corner of Ilya’s mouth twitched, threatening a smirk. If that’s all Shane was annoyed about, he could live with that.
Ilya
No. I think you would not be texting back if this were case
Shane rolled his eyes again – subconsciously this time – but Ilya couldn’t wait to punish him for it regardless.
Ilya
Roll your eyes again, Hollander. We will have big problem.
Shane had to force down a moan at the threat. A big problem is exactly what he wanted. What he needed, even. Being married had been incredible. Getting to spend so many sleepless nights, lazy days, and everything in between with his best friend had been more than he’d ever hoped for… except, things had been so good that there hadn’t been any real reason for Shane to be upset about anything. He had gotten so used to missing Ilya, to getting irrationally annoyed when Ilya took too long to respond to a text or hadn’t had the chance to call him all day, that now that Ilya was with him, around him, nearly 24/7… the brat in him was begging for some kind of outlet. Being sexted at his parent’s house while sitting next to his mom? That was annoying enough to be the outlet.
Shane
🙄🙄🙄
Ilya
Ok. You will be sorry when you cannot sit for next week.
Shane
Whatever
Ilya stared at his screen in disbelief. Shane had never been so brazenly defiant in the entirety of their relationship. He shifted on the couch, trying desperately to find a way to sit comfortably with his now aching dick. All he could think about were the things he was going to do to his husband the second they were alone.
Ilya
You do not know when to quit. You have this problem on ice too
Ilya
Is ok. Nothing I cannot fix
Ilya
Sorry
Ilya watched as Shane furrowed his eyebrows at the last text.
Shane
For what?
Ilya
How sore your ass will be when I am done with you. And I do not mean from my cock
Shane could feel the heat creep up on his cheeks again at what Ilya was threatening. The last time Ilya spanked him was the first time they had tried it. Shane thought it would be fun to try — and it had been — but it hadn’t been in this context. It hadn’t been because he was being punished for something — usually Ilya resorted to edging for that — it had been more… exploratory. Testing the waters. And Shane had loved it, but he hadn’t been convinced that Ilya was up for trying it again. Something about feeling conflicted about causing Shane harm but also loving the handprints that were left behind. So for him to suggest this… Shane was giddy with anticipation.
Ilya
Do not worry, your asshole will be sore too. But also maybe not from my cock. Depends on if you are good boy for me
Shane didn’t dwell on whatever that meant, choosing not to respond, instead grabbing a throw pillow from behind him and placing it in his lap under the guise of getting more comfortable. Ilya would have believed it too, had he not known any better. He sent one last barely-there smirk in Shane’s direction before pretending to be really into David’s boring movie and shoveling handfuls of popcorn into his mouth for the next hour and a half.
“Thank you for dinner and popcorn! Was good movie, David,” Ilya said over his shoulder as he and Shane made their way down the stone steps in front of the Hollanders’ cottage.
“Anytime! See you boys this weekend! Love you!” Yuna replied.
“Love you!” Shane and Ilya both yelled back in unison as they got to the car. Ilya saw David and Yuna retreating inside as he glanced behind him, and then opened the passenger door for Shane, jaw clenched as he watched the smirk fighting its way onto Shane’s face. He wanted to kiss it off of him, rough and hard, while pushing him up against his stupid British car, but he managed to control the urge.
“In,” he commanded.
“You’re so hot when you’re annoyed,” Shane replied, having the nerve to blush. Ilya ground his teeth. He was one more smart comment from Shane away from bending him over the hood of the fucking car right here.
“Get. In. The. Car.”
Ilya’s tone, deep and commanding and unwavering, sent a shiver down Shane’s spine. Fuck, he was in for it tonight. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for being able to rile the Ilya Rozanov, notorious agitator, up this much. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he slid into the passenger seat, and it must have shown. Ilya bent down, grabbing the seatbelt and buckling Shane in like he was incapable of doing it himself.
“I can buckle myself. I’m not a child.”
Ilya caged Shane in, a hand on either side of his thighs, noses nearly touching. “Oh, you are not? Because you are acting like one. Che ty ulybayesh'sya (The hell are you smiling for), hm?”
“I’m not,” Shane replied, visibly holding one back.
“No, is ok. You will not be for much longer.” Ilya gave Shane’s thigh a couple light pats before moving away from him and closing the door.
He slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, making his way down David and Yuna’s driveway. The second they pulled out onto the road, Ilya wasted no time giving orders.
“Take off your pants.”
“What?”
“Take off your pants,” Ilya repeated.
“But we’re –”
“What, you do not understand English now? Take off your pants, Hollander.”
“We’re in the car!” Shane protested.
Ilya slammed on the breaks, right there in the middle of the road. Granted, it was a back road with little to no traffic, but a road nonetheless.
“Do I look like I am making joke?” he questioned, face unmoving.
Shane gulped, and for the first time since starting this little schtick he was starting to feel nervous. Not that Ilya would hurt him – never that – but that he might have taken it a little too far and likely landed himself in a step above funishment territory. “No?”
“So what is the problem? You are looking at me like I am speaking Russian sentence you do not know. You understand ‘take off your pants’, yes?”
Shane huffed a soft laugh through his nose, looking down at the floorboard.
“Yes,” he muttered.
“Sorry, what was that? Say again.”
“Yes… Sir.”
That made Ilya’s dick jump. God, it really had been way too long since they’d last explored this dynamic. He reached for Shane’s chin, turning it towards him with his thumb and forefinger, before gripping underneath it – not too hard, not too soft. Just the right amount of pressure to get Shane’s already glassy, moon-lit eyes to look at him with so much need, Ilya thought he could have come on the spot.
“When I tell you to do something, what are you supposed to do?”
“Listen,” Shane replied, voice practically shaking with want.
“Does it matter if we are in car?”
“No.”
“Hell, does it matter if we are on fucking ice, in front of thousands of people?”
Shane’s heart raced at the thought. Obviously, that fantasy could never happen, but imagining it wasn’t illegal. And Shane had most certainly imagined it.
“No.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows.
“Sir,” Shane added, fixing his mistake.
“Ok. Good. I am going to drive again now, and you are going to take off your pants. Ponyal (Understood)?”
Shane nodded, his heart racing. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy,” Ilya teased, lightly tapping Shane’s cheek before putting his hand back on the wheel.
As soon as Ilya started driving, Shane untied the drawstring of his sweats, lifting his hips off of his seat so he could pull them down. He was already hard with anticipation, his dick straining against his briefs.
Ilya’s eyes darted away from the road for half a second so he could see.
“You have been hard all night?”
“Yes and no,” Shane replied honestly. “It calmed down a little during the movie.”
“Ah, so you are hard again from what? Calling me ‘Sir’ and being brat?”
“I wasn’t being a brat, I –”
“Mm, I would think very carefully about how you will finish this sentence.”
Shane took a breath that bordered on an annoyed sigh, and Ilya white-knuckled the steering wheel because he was far too close to stopping the car and pulling Shane over his knee in the backseat. He wasn’t sure why that had been what he was itching to do — he’d never done it before — but it felt like exactly what Shane was asking for.
“Fine. I was being a brat.”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
It wasn’t a question.
“I… like trouble?” Shane supplied, and the corner of Ilya’s mouth twitched up at that.
“Yes, that is clear,” Ilya replied, stealing a glance at Shane’s bulge again. “Touch yourself,” he commanded.
Shane fought the urge to ask ‘what?’ and instead forced his body to obey without any further questions. He rubbed himself over his briefs a few times, pushing into the palm of his hand.
“Fuck,” he gasped under his breath.
“Get yourself close,” Ilya paused, reaching across the middle console to grab Shane’s wrist, effectively stilling it, “but you will not cum, malysh. Ponyal?”
Shane nodded. “Yes – fuck – yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Ilya’s hand was back on the wheel. “I need to focus on road and it is dark. So you will tell me what you are doing. How it feels. You can do this, yes?”
“I’ll try,” Shane replied quietly. The thought of narrating the way he was touching himself to Ilya was equal parts mortifying and incredibly hot.
“Do or do not, there is no try.”
A chuckle bubbled out of Shane at that. “Are you seriously quoting Yoda right now?”
Ilya shrugged. “That was good movie.”
“But you said it was –”
“Gospodi (Oh my God), Hollander, if you are not touching your dick in the next five seconds our big problem will be humongous problem.”
Shane decided not to ask when Ilya had learned the word ‘humongous’, and instead pushed his briefs down just far enough to free his aching cock. He shivered when he wrapped his hand around it, consciously swallowing down a moan as he swiped his thumb over the tip.
“Are you touching yourself?” Ilya asked, his eyes glued to the road.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me what you are doing.”
“I’m –” Shane gasped softly as he tightened his grip around his shaft and began pumping slowly, “– I’m holding my dick. Moving my hand.”
“How does it feel?”
“Good – fuck.”
“Give me your hand,” Ilya demanded, holding out his own. “The one on your dick right now.”
Shane obeyed, albeit begrudgingly, placing his hand in Ilya’s open palm. Ilya pulled Shane’s hand under his chin and spat into it, before pushing it back towards Shane.
“Keep going.”
“Jesus Christ,” Shane muttered under his breath, his now wet hand wrapping around his cock again, picking up where he left off. “Fuck, that feels so good.”
“Move it faster,” Ilya ordered.
Shane sped up, feeling awfully close to the edge already. There was something about Ilya telling him what to do, how to do it, about himself having to focus enough to be able to describe it out loud… fuck, it was hot.
“Are you close?”
“Fuck. Yes.” Shane pumped himself harder, chasing a release he knew he wasn’t going to get.
“Stop.”
Shane stopped.
“Did you stop?”
“Yes, Sir,” Shane replied quietly.
“Ah, so you can listen? You just choose not to?”
“What –”
“I tell you not to roll eyes, you roll eyes. I tell you to take off pants, you question me. But when I tell you to stop touching your dick when you are so close to coming, you suddenly learn how to listen. Is interesting. What, you don’t want fun to end so soon? Or you do not want to find out what will happen if you cum in this car?”
Shane huffed a soft laugh, answering honestly. “Both.”
Ilya couldn’t help but smile at how pure he was. Answering his filthy fucking questions with soft laughs and sincerity.
“Good. Start again.”
Shane began stroking himself once more, and Ilya’s cock grew harder with every moan and ‘it feels so good’ that came from Shane’s lips. He was going at least 15 over trying to make it back to the cottage before the urge to pull over and take Shane in the backseat won over. They were only five minutes away; he could wait. He needed to wait, because the things he wanted to do to his husband tonight couldn’t be done in the backseat on the side of a road.
“Shit, Ilya, I’m gonna –”
“No. Keep going.”
“I can’t!”
“You can and you will.”
Shane dropped his head back against the head rest as he continued pumping his cock, slowing down as much as he could without completely stopping to stave off his orgasm.
“We are almost home, malysh. Three minutes. Can you hold it that long?”
Shane shook his head aggressively, which Ilya saw in his periphery.
“You are that close?” Ilya asked, with a raise of his eyebrows.
Shane nodded. “Yeah – fuck, yes, please, I –”
“Stop.”
Shane took deep, steady breaths as he pulled his hand away from his aching cock.
“Fuck,” Ilya rasped under his breath. He loved Shane like this. Needy and obedient, even when he was being asked to delay his own pleasure. “You will do anything I tell you to right now, won’t you?”
Shane was still focusing on his breathing, his eyes closed, chest rising and falling. “Within reason.”
Ilya rolled his eyes at Shane’s pragmatism.
“Start again. And you will keep going until we get to the cottage.”
Shane whimpered, and God, Ilya wanted to bottle up that sound and carry it around with him wherever he went.
“Now, Hollander.”
Shane took a deep breath before taking his cock in his hand again. The tip was red and aching, precum leaking from the slit, and he was so fucking hard it hurt. But he could do this. He could do anything for two minutes. Or at least that’s what he kept telling himself throughout the rest of the drive, which felt more like 20 minutes than two.
Ilya pulled into the driveway and parked before looking over at Shane and taking him in. His hand was still wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly, sweatpants pulled down to his mid-thighs, eyes closed, head resting against the headrest – he was a fucking vision.
“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya rasped, and Shane lolled his head to the side and opened his eyes, his hand still working his dick. He looked so fucked out, and Ilya hadn’t even touched him yet.
“‘m close,” he slurred, and Ilya grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off his cock.
Shane whined at the sudden loss of friction, his eyes sleepy, and Ilya shushed him softly, reaching over with his free hand to stroke his freckled cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“Shane. Come back to me,” Ilya said softly, flipping his hand around and gently tapping his cheek. He couldn’t believe how far gone Shane had gotten just from edging himself.
Shane blinked lazily a few times, slowly coming back to the surface.
“I didn’t cum,” he stated with a proud, tired grin.
Ilya smiled. “You did not.”
“I was good.”
“Mm, yes. But you were also brat. Before.”
Shane’s smile morphed into a pout.
“You did not think you were going to get out of punishment so easy, no?”
“Maybe,” Shane muttered.
Ilya chuckled.
“No, sweetheart. I have plans for you that I have been thinking about since movie started.”
Ilya lightly booped Shane’s nose with his knuckle.
“Go. Wait in bedroom for me.”
Shane unbuckled and pulled up his sweats, feeling fully awake as he caught a second wind thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Ilya’s arm reached out to grab his forearm before he could open the door, and Shane turned his head to look at him questioningly.
“And keep yourself hard. Do not cum.”
Shane swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”
Ilya poured himself a glass of vodka in the kitchen, giving the liquid a few swirls before taking a swig. He needed a minute to cool off after the car ride; he had quite a few things on the agenda tonight that he wouldn’t be able to do if he came in his pants the minute he walked into the bedroom, which was a fair possibility if Shane was wanting for him like he’d taught him to. He groaned as he pictured it: Shane, naked, kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, his hand wrapped around his beautiful cock, maybe stroking it, maybe squeezing the base to keep himself from coming, his head thrown back, eyes closed – fuck.
Gospodi, Ilya, soberis. (Jesus, Ilya, get it together.)
He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his vodka, placing his glass in the sink. He stared at it as he tried to ground himself. He felt like he was bursting at the fucking seams with pure need, like there was an electric current of pure want running underneath his skin. He gripped the edge of the counter and inhaled. In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four. Okay, so maybe therapy was good for something. He kept breathing until he felt his heart rate slow and his dick soften. His grip on the counter softened, and he nodded to himself before heading towards the bedroom.
Shane felt out of his fucking mind. He was kneeling on the floor on a pillow, the clothes he had been wearing neatly folded in a stack on the dresser, squeezing the base of his dick so hard it was painful. He had worked himself to the edge two more times since Ilya had told him to wait for him and keep himself hard. He didn’t know how much time had passed since then. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been ten hours – hell, it felt like ten fucking days that he’d been kneeling on this stupid pillow. Every time he started to go soft, he only had to pump himself a few times to get himself hard again, so close to a release that it fucking hurt. His dick was angry, and if he was being honest, he was getting a bit annoyed. Maybe he should come all over himself, all over this floor – turn the tables and make Ilya lick it all up – Jesus Christ –
“Ow,” Shane hissed, as he squeezed his base even harder. He couldn’t afford to think about things like that right now. Not when he was trying to be good. He closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths.
Pull it the fuck together, Shane. You did this to yourself.
And with that reminder, he suddenly felt a lot less irritated at his situation – he was exactly where he wanted to be.
“Fuck, Hollander.”
Shane’s eyes flew open to see Ilya standing in front of him, his bulge at Shane’s eye-level. His gaze traveled up his husband’s body, who was still fully clothed, until their eyes met. Shane’s were glassy and pleading, while Ilya’s were so lust-blown Shane thought that Ilya could’ve come right then and there.
Ilya crouched down, pulling Shane’s wrist away from his dick with one hand while gently grasping Shane’s chin between his thumb and forefinger with the other.
“Please,” Shane rasped.
“Please, what, malysh?”
“Please let me suck your cock.”
It was the next best thing; Shane knew if he had asked to come the answer would have been a definitive “nyet”.
Ilya grinned and shook his head.
“Nyet. Not yet. Punishment first, yes? Then maybe I will let you suck my dick. As reward.”
Shane nodded eagerly.
Ilya stood back up, offering his hand to Shane. “Come here.”
Shane took it as he got up, letting Ilya lead him to the bed where he sat on the edge, his feet planted firmly on the floor and his legs spread. He maneuvered Shane to stand in between them, looking up at him as he ran his hands up and down the outsides of his thighs, trying to ignore how hard and angry Shane’s dick looked, and how close it was to his face.
“What is your color?”
Shane rolled his eyes, because it was a stupid question.
Ilya smacked him on the side of his ass hard enough to leave a handprint behind.
“Ow!”
“You have problem with rolling your eyes, and I am going to fix that. But first, you answer my question. What is your color?”
“Green,” Shane replied, glaring at his husband. “So obviously fucking green.”
Ilya responded to that answer by grabbing Shane by the wrist and pulling him over his knee in one fluid motion.
“What are you –”
“I told you this would happen if you kept being brat and you kept being brat. So now you will count.”
If Shane had no self control, he would have made a mess all over Ilya’s pants. This was even better than Shane had let himself imagine when Ilya had sent that text earlier tonight. Ilya, fully clothed while Shane was naked and over his knee and being ordered to count. It was humiliating, and Shane had never been so turned on in his life.
The first hit came down hard and unforgiving, and Shane yelped before gritting out, “One.”
“Good,” Ilya praised, and Shane would do anything to hear more of it. “Again.”
The sound of Ilya’s palm on Shane’s ass echoed throughout the room; the sting of it was everything that Shane was needing and more.
“Two.”
“Fuck, Hollander, you are perfect.”
Ilya rubbed Shane’s ass, his gentle touch a sharp contrast to the previous hits. He could feel Shane’s hard cock against his inner thigh, and he dipped a finger in between Shane’s cheeks, lightly grazing over his hole.
Shane whimpered at the touch, which made Ilya’s dick twitch in return.
“We will do ten more. You can handle ten more, yes?”
Shane nodded into the comforter, and Ilya spanked his upper thigh.
“Three!”
“No, that was not part of the ten. That was because you did not use your words and you know better. So I will ask again because I am feeling nice.”
A sarcastic, ‘Oh, are you?’ is what Shane wanted to say, but he bit his tongue because any extra time spent over Ilya’s lap and he would undoubtedly be ruining Ilya’s pants.
“You can handle ten more, yes?” Ilya repeated.
“Yes, Sir,” Shane mumbled into the mattress, and it was good enough for Ilya.
“Good boy.”
Shane counted every single hit, and by the time twelve came around his ass was on fire and his eyes were wet with anticipated tears. It hurt so good. All he wanted to do was look in the mirror at the marks Ilya’s hand had left behind.
“Are you feeling less bratty now?” Ilya questioned, his hand moving in soft circles on Shane’s red cheeks.
“Yes, Sir,” Shane replied, nodding fervently, and then sniffling.
Ilya pulled him up off his lap so quickly it almost gave Shane whiplash. Before he could process what was happening, Ilya was standing in front of him with his hands grasping Shane’s freckled cheeks, worry written all over his face as he inspected every inch of Shane’s.
“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”
A soft laugh bubbled out of Shane as he stared back at Ilya with glassy eyes. “I’m fine. It hurt but… I liked it.”
“You are crying.”
“No I’m not… not yet,” Shane replied with a smirk, his hand coming to palm Ilya’s cock over his pants.
“Shane,” Ilya said sternly. “We do not have to keep going if –”
Shane sank to his knees, looking up at his husband. “Please.”
“Fuck,” Ilya breathed. All his concerns about whether or not Shane was okay evaporated with that singular word, because clearly he was. His husband was on his knees, teary-eyed, begging for his cock. And he had been so good, so obedient, so brave and trusting to let Ilya handle him the way he thought Shane needed.
“Please,” Shane said again. “I just want to suck you so bad, I – I’ll never roll my eyes again, I swear, please just let me –”
“Shhh, Hollander.” Ilya untied the drawstring of his sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor as he reached down to stroke Shane’s cheek with his thumb. “You are so perfect. Chto ya budu s’taboi delyat, hm? (What am I going to do with you, hm?)”
“Chto hochesh. (Whatever you want.)”
“Jesus Christ,” was all Ilya could say before he let his briefs follow his sweats, kicking them both off his feet as he grabbed his dick and guided it into Shane’s open and waiting mouth.
Shane’s nails were digging crescent moons into his thighs as he took Ilya all the way down his throat. Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, quickly became his mantra as he expertly bobbed his head on all nine inches of Ilya’s cock. Eleven years of it had made him a deep-throat expert – he should have a trophy made to add to their room.
“Da, like that, Hollander. Gospodi, you are so good, baby.”
The pet name in conjunction with the Russian and his former last name (he was technically Hollander-Rozanov now) had him reaching for the base of his dick once again, squeezing hard as he continued to suck Ilya down. He had tears streaming down his cheeks and spit running down the corners of his mouth as wet, gurgling sounds filled the room. He usually wasn’t a fan of blowjobs this messy, but right now there was nowhere he’d rather be.
“Fuck, ok – ok, vsyo – edi syuda (enough – come here).”
Ilya pulled Shane up to his feet and kissed him rough and hungry, spinning them around and pushing him down onto the bed before climbing on top of him. He kissed down Shane’s body and then back up, stopping only to reach for the bottle of lube on the nightstand before settling on his knees in between Shane’s spread legs.
Shane watched with bated breath as Ilya popped the cap and poured a generous amount of lube onto his dick and Shane’s hole. Ilya tossed the bottle to the side before grazing over Shane’s perineum with his finger, spreading the lube around and slowly pushing it inside. Shane gasped, and Ilya quickly added a second finger, forcing him to arch up off the mattress when Ilya found his prostate.
“Shit — Ilya, I’m gonna —”
Ilya pulled his fingers out.
“The only place you are going to come tonight, malysh, is on my dick. Ponyal?”
“Da — yes, Sir,” Shane breathed.
“Fuck, Hollander, I love it when you speak Russian. And when you call me ‘Sir’.”
Shane grinned dopily. “Ya znayu. (I know.)”
Ilya smiled and grabbed his cock, giving it a few strokes before lining it up with Shane’s hole. “Brat.”
Then he pushed his way inside, Shane moaning at the stretch.
“Oh my God — Ilya…”
“Yes, take it. All the way — like that — fuck, you are so good for me.”
Shane looked up at him with pleading eyes as he buried himself to the hilt.
“Please fuck me.”
“You think you deserve it?” Ilya teased, eyebrows raised.
“Fuck you.”
Ilya chuckled, starting to move slowly. “See? You are still brat. You will have to answer nicer than that.”
“Yes,” Shane replied, barely audible. “Please. Please, I’ve been so good —”
“Yes,” Ilya agreed, his slow thrusts gradually picking up speed. “So good. Moy sladkiy mal'chik. ( My sweet boy.)”
“Oh my — God.”
“Yes — good. Fuck.”
It only took a few thrusts before Ilya was close, and judging by the way Shane’s cock was twitching on his stomach, so was he. Ilya pounded into him harder and harder, pushing his thighs as far apart as they would go.
“Fuck, Ilya, I’m gonna —”
“Davai (C’mon), Hollander, fucking come for me.”
It was all Shane needed to hear before his dick Jackson Pollocked all over his stomach. It was so much cum, so much mess, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Ilya continued to pound into him.
“Yeah — shit — fucking fill me up, Rozanov.”
A few seconds later, and Ilya was throwing his own head back as he filled Shane to the fucking brim.
“Yeah, fuck — just like that. Holy fuck.”
Ilya practically collapsed on top of him, foreheads touching and chests heaving as they tried to catch their breaths.
“Ty… I tvoy gryazniy rot… menya, blyat, ubyot, Hollander. (You… and your dirty mouth… are going to fucking kill me, Hollander.)”
Shane smiled, still panting.
“Sleduyushiy raz… ya vsyo…. po-russki skazhu. (Next time… I’ll say everything… in Russian.)”
“Ah… so you are trying to kill me then?”
Shane huffed a laugh through his nose, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s neck and pulling him all the way down, until their bodies were flush, Shane’s release practically gluing them together. It was so unlike him to ignore the mess, but Ilya wasn't complaining.
“I love you,” Shane mumbled, squeezing his husband tight. “So fucking much.”
Ilya smiled into the crook of Shane’s neck, trying and failing to ignore how hard it was to breathe. “I love you, too. But you are suffocating me.”
Shane loosened his grip, but only slightly. “You’d die happy, being suffocated by me.”
Ilya laughed, pulling back slightly so he could stare down at his husband. His husband, Shane fucking Hollander. Most days he still couldn’t believe it.
“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “I would.”