Do you guys think that one night at the cottage they fall asleep on the couch together too tired to make it to bed? Maybe they ran in the morning and then spent most of the day in the water because itâs like a mini heatwave at the moment, the next 2 days are meant to be sticky thick hot.
Theyâd raced each other out to the long tree to the left of the dock, swimming hard and fast, competitive here too, in the water- anywhere they could be. Shane had won by half a second and Ilya had argued he cheated and when Shane had asked how on earth he could have cheated Ilya wined about how short his swim trunks were and that they were an obvious distraction. Very dirty play from Shane, as per Ilya.
Ilya and Shane hadnât gone inside until the sun was slowly starting to dip and go orange warm, the air still thick with heat and Ilya complaining about his pruny fingers, while simultaneously trying to shove said wrinkly fingers down Shaneâs swim trunks.
Theyâd showered and eaten, salad and chicken breast because it was too hot to face anything heavier or what required more than just the grill to cook. Theyâd packed away and cleaned, Ilya asking for a kiss every time Shane passed him a dish to dry. He explained it was payment for his labour. Shane thought it was a pretty good deal, considering how well he likes to be kissed; and how well Ilya kisses.
Shane had been tucking yawns into his elbow by the time they walked to the couch but it was Ilyaâs choice for movie night tonight and he was very excited to watch Die Hard and Shane does like Die Hard. He can make it through a movie heâs sure. They make themselves a nest on the couch, the aircon on to make the room nice and cool so they can get cosy, because Shane doesnât want to let a heatwave stop him from getting to cuddle with Ilya. There are enough things that keep them apart already.
They have just one blanket, a waffle knit that isnât as warm as the others, but still lovely and heavy like Shane likes and Shane is leant back against the arm of the couch, fucking around on his phone- clearing out some emails and texting his dad back as he waits for Ilya to come back from the bathroom. Shane isnât paying attention really as he waits so suddenly he just has a big lapfull of Ilya.
Ilya draws the blanket up as he lays on top of Shane, his head on Shaneâs chest turned to face the tv, lying between Shaneâs legs. Shane just scoffs a laugh and tucks his phone down the side of the couch and reaches to fix at the blanket where Ilya had just half heartedly pulled it over him.
Shane clicks play on the movie and his next yawn makes his eyes go wet with the depth of it and he turns his head away to muddle the sound. He tilts his chin down and rubs his mouth over Ilyaâs soft curls. Eyes half on the tv and half drooping. Ilyaâs hair is half damp from the shower and he smells like his body wash and hair products and heâs such a nice weight on Shane. Shane takes a greedy deep inhale through his nose again. The smell of Ilya is home. His baby. He hums under his breath as he continued to nuzzle his lips over Ilyaâs soft half dry curls, the comfort of it enough to make his limbs all heavy.
Ilya rubs his cheek against Shaneâs chest, over and over until Shane grunts out a âwhat?â and grabs at the back of Ilyaâs neck. âYou are going to put yourself to sleep like that my Shaneâ Ilya groans and Shane huffs out a laugh. Ilya knows him well. Fucker.
Shane tightens his hand on the back of Ilyaâs neck and turns his head to his cheek is resting on top of Ilyaâs head, facing the tv. âIâm watchingâ Shane sighs and he feels Ilyaâs smile against his chest.
âGood boyâ Ilya mumbles and Shane smacks the back of his head gently with a cupped palm.
Ilya nips at his chest through his tshirt and it makes Shane squirm but then they settle for a while. A few minutes. Then Ilya is shifting against Shane again, wriggling and Shane just lets him, assuming heâs getting comfy, but then Ilya grunts and says âscratchesâ and Shane smirks, ah of course. Shane puts his hand under the blanket, and sets his nails between Ilyaâs shoulder blades, over the thin fabric of his tshirt. He starts slow long scratches of his nails gently up and down Ilyaâs toned tall back.
Shane feels Ilya go heavy with the pleasure of it, the extra weight of him on his body, the way he groans soft and content on every few exhales. Affection bleeds heavy through Shaneâs chest. Thereâs nothing he enjoys more than making Ilya feel good, feel safe, settled. He loves seeing Ilya relaxed, feeling him relaxed. Shane canât believe he gets to be the one to give him that. Boyfriends. His boyfriend. His love. Shaneâs.
âYou canât fall sleep eitherâ Shane says after a few moments of slow heavy breathing from Ilya.
âI am so awakeâ Ilya says after a thick swallow voice rumbly.
âYou better beâ Shane gruffs and he feels Ilyaâs belly shift against his lower body, moving with his sleepy laugh.
âWe will both stay awakeâ Ilya confirms
âDefinitelyâ Shane agrees and his next yawn cracks his jaw a little.
Shane keeps the slow tickle of Ilyaâs back, and lets his head lean back against the arm of couch, watching John Mclane on the screen. His blinks are heavy but heâs got this, he can keep himself up and then he and his big sleepy log of a boy can crawl into bed for the night, they have fresh sheets on the bed. Itâll be so good.
The next thing Shane knows, he can hear the soft rustle of fabric, his body is heavy in the wrap of sleep and he feels movement around him, he frowns, only very a little bit awake as he tries to orientate where he is.
âShaneâ Ilyas voice is low and warm, and Shane turns his face towards it. Ilya. Heâs too tired to make his tongue work but he hums, draws in a deep breath as he tries to draw himself up into consciousness. Closer to Ilya.
âAh. Sonnyy zaychikâ Shane frowns, too half asleep to even try translate and he gets his eyes a tiny half blink open, heavy arms moving, tugging the heat on his chest closer, tighter, Ilya.
âCome on, we need to move, youâll be very mad zaychik if I let you sleep on couch. Neck will be sore and back will be sore, too sore for yoga. This is not goodâ Ilyaâs voice is warping around him and sleep is so nice and heavy and heâs so warm. Why would they move? Ilya is crazy and sleep is here.
Shane whines and shakes his head. âSleepâ Shane mutters, tilting his head down to rub his face into Ilyaâs hair. Soft.
âSoftâ Shane exhales, and squeezes his arms firm around Ilya, pinning him to his body, tight.
Ilya grunts and Shane turns his face down more, burrowing, trying to find Ilyaâs face with his, he wants to be closer.
âSuper human strength to crush poor boyfriendâ Ilya grits and Shane whines again when heavy warm is pulled away from him, squirms and blinks hard to get his eyes open.
âNoooooooâ Shane looks in the low light, the room dark besides a light shining in from the kitchen down the hall and the dark light of the tv screen running credits.
âIlyaâ he asks, and Ilyaâs heart pinches.
Heâs stood at the end of the couch and Shane is a fussy little mess, tangled in his sweat pants and the blanket, face pink with sleep eyes heavy and bleary and a deeep frown on his face. His grumpy grumpy boy.
Shane repeats his name and holds a sleepy arm out toward him. âCuddle. Sleepâ his boyfriend/caveman requests monosyllabically, mouth mostly closed still.
Oh god. What is Ilya going to do with him. Do with himself. Shane might kill him, really. The picture he makes and Ilya feels mean for pulling back from their cuddle but he know how annoyed Shane would be if he woke up with a crick in his neck and couldnât do his usual yoga flow.
âYes zaychik, cuddle, sleepâ and Shane lets out a low tired âyessssssâ and Ilya pushes his smile into his mouth with a press of his lips and leans down over the couch, gets an arm under the back of Shaneâs head, thread under his knees and Shane is trying to turn into the warmth of his body already, squirming toward Ilyaâs chest with a sleep drunk determination.
âBut in our bedâ Ilya whispers and Shaneâs sad little ânooooâ is smushed against Ilyaâs chest as he lifts him up off the couch. That seems to wake Shane more, he flinches and his hand comes to grip at the front of Ilyaâs shirt. His eyes blink all the way open and Ilya thinks this has to be what newborn kittens look like. Must be. No other way. His nose is wrinkled hard, and brows set in and his pretty cheeks are all pink. Ilya needs to bite his face. As soon as feasible. And maybe find a safe place for Shane to exist, like behind his ribs or between his fingers. Where Ilya can keep him safe and warm and fussy like this always.
âWhatâ Shane manages to get out and heâs blearily looking around and Ilya has to look away from his sweet handsome face before he trips and kills them on the stairs from the way his heart is squeeze squeeze squeezing.
âWe are going to bed, I am carrying you because your legs broke in your sleep, this is very sadâ Ilya sighs, holds Shane tighter to his chest as he rounds the corner, watches carefully to make sure his head is clear of the wall.
Shane just sighs, like Ilya is torturing him, and the Ilya feels his face smush into his chest, warm and no doubt just as grumpy as before.
âI know. I am very evil manâ Ilya laughs under his breath and then heâs stepping into their room, he manages to get the covers down on Shaneâs side before he deposits him on the bed. Shane, in all his sleep haze rolls tighter into Ilyaâs chest when he tries to pull back. âCuddle. You saidâ Shaneâs voice is pleading, young. Just for Ilya. Ilyaâs heart surely can take much more.
âYes, my Shane, cuddleâ Ilya whispered and canât help but to lean his head down to kiss over Shaneâs soft warm cheeks. Tiny little pecks of his lips that he can feel Shane following, tilting his face up into each of them, nuzzling their faces together like those videos heâs seen of kittens cleaning each other with licks.
âLet me get us to bed yes?â Ilya whispers, lips on the corner of Shaneâs pretty mouth.
âOkay?â Ilya asks and Shane nods, loosens his viper grip on Ilya. âQuickâ he mutters and Ilya can feel something so horribly beautiful in the back of his throat his chest. This gorgeous boy misses him for a few seconds apart, Shane asks for him so shamelessly, in the way that Shane rarely openly asks for anything at all, he asks for Ilya. He wants.
Ilya makes good on his earlier wish and parts his mouth to drag his teeth in a gentle light scrape over the apple of Shaneâs cheek, taking the meat of is gently in a feather soft bite, pressing his teeth once, twice before letting go.
Shane has a huge dopey smile and Ilyaâs saliva on his cheek when Ilya pulls back. Ilya feels like he might of left his heart pressed to Shaneâs chest somewhere back on the couch, the two of them beating together. It would explain the way his chest feels bruised.
âTop off?â Ilya asks, his hands already pushing at the bottom of Shaneâs shirt because he knows Shane doesnât like sleeping with a top on, sometimes he wants boxers or sweats or soft shorts but never ever a top.
Shane nods and Ilya eases the fabric up off his body, says a soft âarms upâ that for some stupid second makes him miss home (home to him is still just only one room in his first home in Russia, his bedroom, the smell of mamas perfume, the weight of care). Shane flops his arms heavily over his head and Ilya folds the fabric once itâs off, places it on Shaneâs beside table.
âPants on?â Ilya asks and Shane nods, his hand moving back out trying to find Ilya again.
âOkie Okie hang onâ Ilya says, stripping off till he is just in his boxers and then heâs peeling back the other side of the covers and climbing in next to Shane. The little leech beside takes all of two seconds to roll over into Ilyaâs space with a whine under his breath.
âSheets coldâ Shane mutters and Ilya shushes him, strokes a hand down the back of his head, thumb rubbing at the base of his neck.
âIâm warm yes?â Ilya asks, pulls Shane up onto his chest and Shane sighs out heavy and happily, rubbing his face all over Ilyaâs chest, like a sleepy milk drunk kitten looking for something soft to snuggle into. This vicious kitten deems him acceptable, his arm reaching up, hand laying over his pec, cheek pressed to the other one and his small frown finally smoothes out.
âMmhmâ Shane confirms on an exhale.
âLove your warmâ Shane slurs and Ilyaâs hand massages steady at the back of his neck, can feel how close his Shane is to dropping off to sleep.
âLove youâ Ilya replies, leans down to kiss kiss kiss at Shaneâs head, over his hairline, thinks into his kisses ârest rest restâ his thoughts aimed at that gorgeous brain of Shaneâs that he knows can tick on and on and on even in his sleep.
Shane replies, a jumbled âlubyoâ that Ilya is sure is love you. He can feel it anyway, they donât need the words, can feel the way Shane holds him, curls into him, in his half asleep state searched for ilya like he was his centre. Ilya could feel it all, see it all, even in the dark.
