Work Text:
Shane is sure that Ilya is trying to actively torture him. It's been too long since he's had Ilya with him, inside of him, kissing him. Phone calls help, FaceTime calls are even better, but nothing quite compares to the real thing.
The real thing in which Ilya seems absolutely hellbent on depriving him of right now. Shane's on his stomach, hands grasping around pillows, body completely bare as Ilya takes an infuriatingly, achingly long time to kiss every inch of it. There's marks already pinkening up on his thighs by the time Ilya's mouth gets to the base of Shane's spine. Ilya isn't even naked yet. His basic old Raiders tee still on his back and bulge bursting at the seams of his jeans.
"So pretty," Ilya whispers into his skin. A tongue laves into the dip of his dimples. It makes Shane shiver, his back arching as he searches for more stimulation. Ilya, the fucking asshole, doesn't give it to him yet.
"Ilya," he whines. His brain gets fuzzy when they're like this, so detached from what he's normally used to sounding and acting like. He can't help but whine as he grinds his cock into the mattress as he waits for Ilya's tongue to touch him again.
"What, why whine, sweetheart?" Ilya's teeth bares down on the side of his ass and it does feel good, but he's so clean, ready and aching for a spit slick finger to enter him. He can feel the way he's clenching, twitching and trying to pull Ilya inside of him. "I missed you so much. Missed this. Perfect little ass, with little dimples right here all for me."
He pushes his thumbs right into the divots hard and Shane groans. The yoga and the exercise can combat the ache of his job most of the time, but his body melts into jelly every time Ilya massages the hidden tension Shane holds all over.
"Perfect for my fingers to fit in when I hold you down. Sweetest ass in all of the NHL."
Shane's gasp turns into a laugh, cheeks flushed with adoration and livid horniness at Ilya's words. The thing is, too, Ilya isn't joking. He surely means it, he must really mean it. Probably has a spreadsheet in his mind of all the asses and dicks and tits he's had. But Shane's name is always going to be right up at the top in bold, glittering lettering.
"You going to just touch my ass or are you going to fuck me?"
Ilya tsks at him and slaps the side of his ass again. Normally, he'd be solely focused on the fattest part of his cheek. Or, preferably, Ilya would already be nose deep and flicking his tongue inside of him. Tonight it seems Ilya is more interested in lazing around with his tongue and his fingers on the outer parts of Shane's glutes where his ass meets his hips.
"Will get to it, my tigrenok," Ilya says. That's a new one, Shane thinks. Tiger… cub? He's used to Ilya calling him his little kitten (though he huffed in annoyance the first time Ilya said it, his words dripping from a smirk so damn annoying and endearing that Shane couldn't help but pout into the kiss afterwards), but tiger is new.
"Tiger cub?" He voices his confusion.
"Ah, you are getting so good at Russian."
"Shut up," he retorts into his elbow.
"Shut up or fuck you? So many demands, Mr. Hollander."
Ilya takes the small huff of laughter Shane breathes as an excuse to get back to his handiwork. Ilya grips his hips and brings him up further onto his knees, no longer any direct stimulation onto his dick and he's fucking dying with the need to have more, more of Ilya—Ilya's fingers or mouth or cock. Anything, Shane will take sighing and happy and sated.
Teeth bare down onto the flesh of his ass, but Ilya's canines aren't digging into him sharply like they do when he's trying to leave marks. It's more exploratory. Gentle, even, as if he is trying to memorize the feeling of Shane's skin between his teeth.
He licks long stripes up and over the curve of his ass, continuing his way to Shane's sensitive flank. Shane shivers and Ilya soothes him with an open mouthed kiss, then pets him tenderly with a calloused hand. God, those fucking hands that Shane loves, he wants them all over. His long experienced fingers that Shane needs to be working inside of him right now or else he may scream or cry. Probably both will end up happening, even when he does get what he wants.
"So, so beautiful, Shane. You hardly know how beautiful you are."
The words are comforting like a hot soapy shower after an exhausting game, the hairs on Shane's neck stand on end and goosebumps erupt all over his skin from the pleasure. The lull in direct stimulation when they were joking around had Shane's erection flagging to a slight chub, but with Ilya's words and his delicate caresses, he's back to being weepy and needy.
"Ilya… please, are you done torturing me?"
Ilya hums, evidently mulling over whether to put Shane out of this delectable misery yet. "No, no, tigrenok, not done yet. I like this part of you." A single fingertip traces uniform lines on his side. "Stretch marks. Little stripes I get to kiss and bite."
"Wait," Shane pauses, suddenly feeling more exposed than he thought he was still capable of feeling in front of Ilya. He leans his head over his shoulder to get a peek of Ilya, who's staring down lovesick at—apparently—his stretch marks. "You're licking my stretch marks instead of eating my ass right now?"
"What? I like them."
"You're weird."
"You're beautiful," Ilya replies. He gets on his knees to plaster himself against Shane's back, then tilts Shane's chin up for a kiss. It was too quick, not deep and messy like Shane wants to be begging for right now. He can't get a word in, not when Ilya busies himself again kissing down the rest of Shane's back, stopping at his lower back once more to press his tongue into his dimples. "I want to… devour you."
"Fuck, Ilya," Shane mumbles into the pillow. He arches again, knows now that without Ilya's weight on top of him there's more room for him to widen his thighs and give Ilya a look at his tight hole. "Please, baby, please."
"Fuck, Shane," Ilya curses. He finds the damned stretch marks again, fingers laser focused on that area for too long before a dry finger grazes over his entrance. "So pretty."
"Jesus Christ, Ilya, I didn't fucking douche for nothing, okay, after two weeks without you—"
Ilya flips them over and has Shane sitting in his lap in seconds flat. Shane's head gets dizzy with the quick movement and the frankly annoying display of sheer strength from his boyfriend. Ilya's palms find their rightful spot on Shane's hips, nails digging into his stretch marks and soft skin.
"Should I fuck you like this? In my lap?" Ilya thrusts his hips forward, the rough denim he's still wearing feels tortuously good on Shane's bare, leaking dick. "But I want to see your pretty ass… and I want to see your pretty face. We need room full of mirrors. Need to see every single inch of you when you take me. You do not know how stunning you are."
"I—" Shane gasps. He ruts into Ilya's lap, the spongy leaking head of his cock getting the perfect friction from this angle.
"You what? Tell me what you need," Ilya demands.
"Just need something, anything, please. Fingers?"
"Okay, okay, Shane. Spit." Ilya brings two fingers up to the front of his mouth and Shane doesn't waste a moment before he's spitting directly onto them. He moves immediately on autopilot, heaving his thighs up enough that Ilya can press the spit-wet fingertips right against where Shane needs him most.
He sinks down, ignores the burn and the thumping of his chest, just takes Ilya's fingers like he's been imagining for the past thirty minutes. He'd opened himself a little bit in the shower, can hardly help it when he'd been so sad and needy waiting for Ilya to arrive home. But the feeling of Ilya's fingers are still a shock to his system, especially without lube.
Ilya always says the sweetest words to him, but it's extra apparent tonight with his hushed tones as he revered Shane's body like an intricate piece of art. It always turns Shane's insides to a mushy blob of utter love when Ilya gets so sappy—but Shane likes when he gets Ilya like this too, his mouth in a dropped O, shocked like he's watching Shane take his dick for the first time all over again.
"Fuck, Shane," Ilya moans like he's the one with two fingers up his ass. Ilya scissors his fingers apart, making room and lighting Shane up from the inside. "So beautiful."
"Do, uh, do you want me in your lap?" Shane asks, breathless from rutting against Ilya and bouncing on his fingers at the same time. "Or do you want me on my hands and knees? So…" he pauses, still a little embarrassed that Ilya likes such an insignificant part of his body so much. "So you can touch them?"
"Touch your tiger stripes while I fuck you?" Ilya replies with a huge grin. Shane nods his head and laughs. "Yes, I would like that, sweetheart. Can I eat you out first?"
"Please," he whispers. "But kiss me first. A real kiss."
"Real kiss?"
"You barely gave me a peck earlier. Kiss me like you mean it."
"Oh, I mean it, baby," Ilya gleams. He pulls out his fingers so fast it causes Shane to whimper, but then Ilya's lips are on his so it doesn't matter anymore that he's empty. He fucks his tongue into his mouth, both of their breaths rapid and desperate as they kiss.
Ilya gets Shane back onto his stomach, twitching with anticipation, wrecked and wanton as Ilya strips the rest of his clothes off. His now bare knees work in between Shane's thighs to nudge them apart, the bruises Ilya left earlier pulse with the pressure of it. He kisses the inside of Shane's thigh, drags his tongue across the warm skin and finds his way right back to the sides of his hips and ass that he's been transfixed with.
"God, you could invent a new fucking porn category. No one likes stretch marks this much."
"Every part of you is addicting, so fucking breathtaking," Ilya explains, so simple and easy for him to say as if it's not the most romantic thing Shane has ever heard in his life.
He finally leaves Shane's stretch marks alone to grab at his ass and pull his cheeks apart. Ilya's hot breath spans across his exposed hole and Shane shudders, suddenly torn between wanting to press his ass against Ilya's face or press his cock further into the satin sheets below him. He hears Ilya spit before he can even feel it on his hole. It's not pleasure in the physical sense, but the idea of it is so hot and disgusting and perfect that Shane cries out.
"Ilya, please, please," Shane begs.
He presses a flat tongue right against Shane's loosened rim and he feels himself melt into the bed. Ilya gets desperate like this, when his tongue is poking and working itself into Shane. He groans into him, Shane can feel the reverberations over his entire body. He's come from less, and he's worried the moment Ilya's tongue or fingers touch his prostate, it is going to be lights out, curtains closed.
"Fuck, Ilya, I–I don't know if I can… stop it."
Ilya tears himself away from Shane and slaps his ass. Not gentle per se, but not hard as Shane is used to. Ilya is so soft and attentive tonight. Shane thinks that Ilya must have been missing him just as much as Shane has been missing him. "Stop what?" Ilya presses two fingers into Shane again, fingertips drawn to his prostate like some sort of fucked up little sex magnet.
He moans, high pitched. It would be embarrassing if he gave a single fuck about anything but Ilya right now. "I'm going to–to, fuck, I'm going to come. Stop, stop."
"No," Ilya replies. He fucks his fingers in and out slowly, letting Shane feel every single inch of them. He pets incessantly at his sweet spot, not giving into Shane's pleas until he's absolutely sure that it's what Shane wants. "It is okay, sweetheart. We have time. Let go, it is okay. You want me to stop?"
"I don't know," he admits with a rough moan. He pushes himself backwards onto Ilya's fingers, his body betraying him by the need to come right now on Ilya's fingers alone. "I don't know. Choose for me, please."
"Okay," Ilya says sweetly. He pauses his movements and Shane thinks the decision has been made then, that they will stop so Shane can bring himself down from the ledge and have Ilya fuck him. But moments later, Ilya is back with three lube coated fingers pressing into him. "I want to watch you come on my fingers first. Okay?"
"Yes," Shane agrees quickly. Whatever Ilya wants for him, Shane will do. It's the greatest idea in the world, Shane thinks now, to come from Ilya fucking him with his fingers. "Yes, okay, yes, please."
His throat is scratchy from being face down in the mattress for so long, his arms numb from keeping them above his head, fingers sore from clamping so fiercely onto the pillows. It doesn't matter, the pain and discomfort is worth it. Worth having Ilya like this, above him, with three fingers deep in his ass and his other hand digging into his stretch marks.
"So beautiful, Shane. God, tigrenok, so precious, please come on my fingers. Want to feel you squeezing around me."
"Fuck, fuck, Ilya, feels so fucking good."
Ilya slaps his ass and focuses his fingers right onto Shane's prostate and he can't fucking hold it back anymore. He's been on the edge for an hour, on edge even before Ilya got his fingers inside of him, before Ilya was in the same city as him. He comes, his body trembling with the frantic energy of the orgasm hitting him. Ilya strokes his walls and caresses his previously unimportant stretch marks as he comes all over himself and the sheets.
"Stop, stop," Shane begs as he comes down from the high and Ilya is still working that spot inside of him. Sometimes Shane is able to take it, wants Ilya to keep pressing on his prostate and working him up all over again, but he is utterly beat and the overstimulation takes precedent. Ilya obeys instantly and slowly pulls back his fingers. The emptiness isn't as jarring like this, when it's not accompanied with cum trickling down his legs.
"So good, Shane," Ilya coos. He manhandles Shane so that he's on his back and out of the wet spot. He massages his shoulders, kisses the tips of his fingers and rubs his own fingers down into his palms. Ilya cuddles up to him, wraps Shane's legs around him. They're both sticking together with sweat and it feels so safe in their bed, so completely full of their adoration. "Did such a good job, looked so beautiful."
"Fuck," he exhales shakily. "I don't know if I can take your dick right now."
Ilya laughs. "I do not think I have ever heard you say that before."
"Oh, fuck off," Shane replies with a slap to Ilya's pecs. "You just really worked me up there."
"I know. I love it."
"I love you."
"I love you more, tigrenok."
"Is this your new thing?" Shane cranes his head up to look at Ilya, his head pressed against his chest. "I'm a tiger cub?"
"It is my new thing, yes. Does not have to be tiger cub always. Maybe you are my kitten one day, tiger the next. Sweetheart always, beautiful always."
Shane hums as to not burst into tears from that sentiment alone. He shuffles further into Ilya's embrace and there's the unmistakable press of Ilya's hard dick against his stomach and Shane wants Ilya to feel this happy, this fulfilled and loved too.
"Want to fuck my mouth?"
"Such sweet talk, Shane."
"Shut up. Come on, what do you want?"
Ilya pauses, thinks it through. "Could I fuck your thighs?"
Wordlessly, Shane nods and Ilya arranges them in a good spot. He keeps Shane on his back, arms too liquefied to stay above him for any longer, so he spreads them out on the bed. Ilya lifts his hips up and situates his palms against the back of Shane's thighs to press them to his chest. Shane's hips are aching, but the stretch feels good after being still for such an extended time.
Ilya drizzles lube between Shane's thighs, the coldness of the liquid feels heavenly on his marked and heated up legs. He uses the tip of his cock to spread the lube around, coating his dick in it completely and the channel of Shane's thighs.
He slides his cock in between and lets out a heavy sigh when he starts rutting into the makeshift hole he made for himself. "Fuck, Shane, it feels so good. Is okay? Does not hurt too much?"
"No, no, Ilya, it's good," Shane sighs. He closes his eyes and rests his hands on Ilya's biceps as he fucks his thighs. The hickeys aren't as tender and fully formed as they will be tomorrow, so for now the dull ache feels delightful. Like little zings of pleasure-pain every time Ilya's cock drags against them. "Feels so good, Ilya. Take whatever you want."
"Okay, sweetheart. I will, thank you, Shane, fuck."
Nails are digging into his flesh and everything is sore and Shane is barely all here, still floating in the aftermath of his orgasm but Ilya is panting and moaning directly on top of him. He would stay like this forever if Ilya really wanted him to.
"Fuck," Ilya hisses, his balls slapping against Shane's legs as he fucks himself harder in between Shane's tender thighs. "Fuck, sweetheart. Can I come on your ass? On your pretty stretch marks?"
Shane's still nodding by the time Ilya's flipping him for the millionth time tonight. He's sort of upset he can't see Ilya's face as he comes, but he can still hear the slick sound of him jerking his cock right above his ass. He feels the wet, hot cum all over the sides of his ass and up to his hips and back.
"Fuck," Ilya curses and falls into a gooey little pile right beside Shane.
"Fuck," Shane agrees.
Ilya laughs, out of breath and panting onto Shane's chest. He kisses him right where his heart sits. "I love you, I fucking love you."
"What? No I love you my little tiger cub this time?" Shane pouts.
"Ha! Of course, I knew you liked it."
"Fuck off."