like everything with them, it happens during sex first. ilya's eating him out slow and sloppy, spit dripping down his chin, two fingers teasing at shane's prostate, when shane pulls his hair and whines "ilya, baby, please."
blood rushes to ilya's dick so fast he almost blacks out. baby. he pulls away. shane whines again, pulls again, begs again, "nononono don't stop, baby, please--"
"say it again," he croaks. he'd meant it to come out stronger than that, but he's fighting shane's hold and flailing for the lube and trying to slick himself all at once while his brain goes baby baby baby he called me baby i'm his baby.
"not that. what did you call me? call me that again."
he lines himself up while shane tries to collect himself. finally recognition lights his eyes. he sniffles. "...baby?"
ilya sinks into him with a groan. shane's tighter than they usually like, but he keeps pressing forward anyway, through the stretch, through the heat, through their combined cries of pleasure, and he fucks shane until neither of them can speak.
after that, shane quickly learns calling ilya "baby" is the quickest way to make his brain stop working. ilya gets him a ginger ale from his parents' fridge, shane says "thank you baby" and ilya walks into the wall. they're coming off the ice after practice, shane says "hey babe don't forget--" and ilya trips over his own skates and almost causes a ten-Centaur pileup. shane says "babe will you--" and ilya stands up so fast he bangs his knee on the table.
but he never gets embarrassed no matter how ridiculous he looks, and he never chirps back no matter how relentlessly he's mocked. if anything, he leans into it all, puffing out his chest and playing up his reactions until shane's belly laughing with delight.
"is only reaction when you are shane hollander's baby," he declares. "only natural. no other choice. you would not know this. you will never understand. he is mine, and only i am his baby."
baratheonpilled
titsay
