Punishment or Pleasure
Ilya Rozanov x fem!Reader
Summary — Ice-cream tastes better when it's licked off your skin. 18+
Des Talks — I'm back from the dead (work and uni). Here is a big fat piece of smut literature inspired by my support icecream to say I’m sorry. Also I forgot Ilya can't drive, so let's all pretend he can!! Yayyyyy!!!
The room was electric with noise. There was laughter and chatter over the music which hummed low, all of the sounds blending together; becoming a background noise.
There was much to look at, so many stunning women and men in one place. But none of it reached Ilya the way you did.
You moved through the crowd like you owned it. You didn’t even mean to have this effect. But it was the way you were; the way you held yourself.
You caught the attention of people every time you moved through the crowd, in a way that made heads turn without you even trying. It wasn't just your dress—of course it was gorgeous. But it was all you. Your confidence, your essence and energy.
Conversations seemed to pause when you stepped into them, people leaning in just a little closer, smiling a little wider as they waited for you to naturally add your words and fill their circle with your presence. You were looked upon highly.
You laughed at something one of the teammates said, your head tilting back as your face scrunched up in laughter. It was innocent. But it still made something tight coil in Ilya’s chest.
It wasn't jealousy—he thought to himself, and a new emotion of denial filtered into the feeling as he tried to gaslight himself.
But there was something he did recognise. Hunger. Thirst. He felt like a starved man.
He leaned back against the bar, glass in his hand, dark eyes fixed on you like there was nothing else in this room that was worth looking at.
He excused himself from all the conversations earlier to go to the bar, having had enough of all these people. His pleasant and friendly attitude had quickly dissipated after a while, and he didn't feel like forcing it any longer. You understood this, and you were able to fill the empty space he left with ease.
You caught his eye across the room for just a second, and in such a short space of time, everything in you shifted.
He felt it. Allll the way from across the room.
Your smile softened, just for him. His jaw tightened slightly, thumb pressing harder against the glass in his hand. His eyes held yours as he lifted the drink to his lips; taking a sip.
Your gaze stayed a second too long before you turned back to your conversation.
Ilya exhaled sharply through his nose as he watched you turn away, the corner of his mouth twitched up despite himself.
He pushed off from the bar, abandoning his drink as he began moving through the crowd toward you with unhurried strides. People instinctively made way, there was something in his dark, focused expression that warned them not to get between him.
They knew Ilya Rozanov and the coldness that followed him. It left a chill behind, and they felt it.
When he was close enough, he reached out to lightly clamp a hand over your hip from behind, tugging gently to get your attention.
But he had leant down before you could react, and his mouth was by your ear before you could register him being so close to you; "Let’s go.”
Your heart skipped a beat before it started hammering wildly when he spoke in your ear, and butterflies erupted in your stomach.
You turned your head to look at him. His eyes clashed with yours immediately, and the look inside of them almost made you forget how to breathe.
He tilted his head slightly, his fingers tensing ever so little as he held you closer.
The shiver that ran through you when his fingers tightened on your hip made your legs feel weak, and his chest pressed against your back. Knowing that he was all yours made the butterflies go into a frenzy. There were hundreds of people here, and thousands of people who wanted to either be him or be with him. And yet, here he was, begging you with his eyes to leave these people and finally be alone together.
And God, it boosted your ego.
You could feel the electricity pouring off of him through the firmness of his frame against your back; it transferred into you, fusing the two of you together.
You took a shaky breath, your eyes flickering from his lips to his eyes, holding his impatient gaze for a moment before you forced yourself away from him to say your goodbyes.
A muscle in Ilya's jaw tightened as you pulled away from his chest, he moved with you; watching intently as you bid your goodbyes to the people you'd been talking to.
People noticed this about him when it came to you. A side to Ilya that nobody thought he had. He was subtle about it, he didn't make a big scene about his feelings toward you; he wasn't over you like glue… in public. He rolled his eyes when he saw those kinds of couples and would mutter something in Russian under his breath. But that being said, people noticed it in the way he looked at you, his usually cold eyes would turn lukewarm when they landed on you. And when you moved—he moved.
It was like you pulled a dead corpse out from the ground and blessed it with the kiss of life.
By the time you said your last word to the friend, Ilya was already pulling you away with a firm hand, steering you through the crowd.
He noticed heads would turn when they saw you pass by in the low lights; clearly having made friends with these people at some point. You left them wanting more, clinging to the hope you would return with your charming energy.
The hand he had on your hip gripped you tighter, the touch of his rough fingers pressing through your dress and engraving into your skin.
Even with how crowded the room was, people seemed to move out of his way automatically. They almost knew instinctively they should leave a large enough space for him to pass through.
You were walking quickly in heels to keep up with him. His pace was fast, and you found yourself wishing he didn't practically have trees for legs.
You made it through the doors soon enough, and the feeling of the cold air in the foyer hit your warm face with much-needed relief.
Ilya’s hand left your waist when you were free from the crowds, instead, he slotted it into yours; threading his fingers through yours as he continued to lead you out of the building.
Ilya didn't say a word as he led you toward the parking lot, taking the lead and guiding you toward his car. He made sure to remain under the alcohol limit tonight, as much as it pained him, but he wanted to make a speedy exit and be able to drive the two of you home as soon as you had enough without needing to wait for an Uber.
As he pressed the button to unlock his car in the parking lot, he shot a sideways glance at you, taking in the way you looked in the half-lit parking lot.
He pulled the passenger side door open for you.
You trailed over to the open door, your steps were slow and your heels clicked underneath you. You took your time almost teasingly… or maybe it was the pain in your feet from being in heels for hours.
He kept his hand on the door, watching silently as you came up to him, tilting your head back a little to be face to face.
One of your hands released its hold on your purse, and you brought it up to his face; curling your fingers under his chin gently. You lifted yourself up onto your tiptoes, and pressed a soft kiss to lips. Just one, small, ever-so-soft kiss. Always leave them wanting more.
You had his heart in your hands, and one of these days, you'd squeeze the life out of it.
He didn't react. he didn't feed into it. Instead, his hand resorted to squeezing the door tighter.
Your gaze stayed on his eyes as you pulled away and lowered yourself down into the car, settling yourself into the seat as Ilya tilted his head back, almost closing his eyes in torment as he shut the door.
He inhaled deeply, using every ounce of self-control he possessed to get himself under control as he walked around the car to the driver's side door, taking his time as he tried to compose himself.
He had some level of control. But a single kiss from you, and he was acting pathetic.
He slid into his seat slowly, shutting the door, he sat there for a moment; breathing in the scent of your freshly applied perfume. It crashed over him like a tsunami.
He turned the car ignition on, watching you spread gloss over your lips in the corner of his eye.
Ilya's grip tightened on the steering wheel as you caught him staring, his knuckles going white for a brief moment before he forced himself to look away. The engine roared to life, vibrating through the silence between you.
Click.
The sound of your gloss cap closing made his jaw clench.
He pulled out of the parking spot, and the expensive wheels made for a smooth drive.
Your hand was now free, and as soon as it was available, he reached across and threaded his fingers through yours again—as always. It was a habit at this point to keep a hand on you when he was driving; even on the rare occasion you were turned away from him and facing the door in annoyance at something. The gentle contact betrayed frustrated exteriors.
The streetlights flashed across his sharp features as he drove; they lit up the tension in his face. You saw it in the way his brows were furrowed slightly and the tight press of his lips—but that was how he looked almost all of the time.
Even with the radio playing lowly, his mind was louder than the music, far far away from the road rules—which he should probably be paying attention to.
He was thinking of all the ways he could have you tonight. He could peel your damn dress off ever so slowly and tease you relentlessly with bites and kisses, have you beg and plead when he would inch closer and closer to where you most needed him—make you feel all hot and heavy the same way you did to him tonight.
Or he could pin you against the wall and take you right there; and then on the couch, and then on the floor.
Either one sounded great in his mind.
When you shifted in your seat, he turned his head a fraction, peering at you from his peripheral vision. Your hips moved in gentle motion, shifting delicately like flowing water as your dress rode up a little; just enough to expose more of your soft thighs to him.
He breathed in deeply, forcing his gaze to leave your beautiful thighs—which he wanted to worship—to focus on the road.
You made it home in one piece and alive, which was quite surprising since he probably ran through a red light at some point and was definitely going over the speed limit.
Patience wasn't his greatest quality, but he was working on it.
Patience was a virtue he had none of.
He all but dragged you out of the car, clutching your hand again to drag you to the apartment entrance with him.
You walked through the foyer silently to the lifts, no words having been said since you left the awards as if it were a wordless challenge the two of you came up with.
The lift’s doors opened with a ding, sliding apart to allow the two of you to step inside. Ilya pressed the button for your floor, and the doors were closing again; shutting you both inside.
Ilya leaned against the wall facing you, his head was tilites slightly down as he gazed at you. You wished you knew what was going through his head; know exactly what he was thinking. But you were also grateful you didn't, you were barely able to handle the look in his eyes.
You didn't mind attention; but when it was like this with Ilya, it made your knees weak and your heart beat rapidly in your chest.
He was barely containing himself, he wanted to pounce and take you right there in the lift.
The lift stopped at your floor, and the doors slid back open to allow you both out. You took the lead, a pep in your step at how your apartment was so close; and Ilya followed out after you.
You spun around to face him, walking backwards down the hall as you showed him a sweet smile; “I’ve been looking forward to this.”
He kept a dark stare on you, his stride becoming more aggressive with each step he took as you continued to walk backwards away from him; taunting him.
“To what?” He asked, his voice was low but intense; bringing his hand up to undo his tie as you stared at eachother.
Your sweet smile turned into a smirk and you turned back around, reaching the door and entering the code to unlock it; “I couldn't stop thinking of it all night.”
You opened the door and stepped inside, turning your head to watch Ilya step in after you.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, he stepped toward you, taking long strides until he had you backed into the wall.
The height difference made him tower over you, but your chin was still tilted up at him.
“Tell me more,” He asked, his lips hovering over your cheek, and his warm breath hitting your skin.
His hand came up to your hip, gripping you tightly as he pulled you against his body. You were trapped perfectly in the corner between his body and the hallway wall.
He could see his effect on you already, the flush on your cheeks, the way your chest moved with deeper breaths.
You were so soft. So warm. So reactive.
You lifted yourself up closer to his face, grazing your soft glossy lips against him; just barely touching.
“I needed it so bad,” You almost whispered, letting your lips graze over his after you spoke; feeling his chest rise and fall harshly.
You reached up, your fingers curling into his shirt. “I tried to ignore it... I really did,” You continued, barely kissing his lips again before your kisses brushed along his jaw… so soft and delicate, “But the longer I waited, the worse it got.”
You leaned into him, smoothing your hands up his chest and savoured the feeling of his muscles underneath his shirt. “And I’ve been so patient…” You whispered, pressing a kiss where you lips could find, “I’ve been so good.”
His grip tightened on your hip, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against his jaw.
A rough exhale left his lips as he tilted his head down. "Tell me what you need,” The words were barely above a whisper.
“I need…” Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt as you whispered against his lips, leaning closer into him and feeling the hardness prod into your stomach; purposefully pressing into it to send a shiver of pleasure through his core, "Ice cream."
You didn't give him time to register what you said before you slipped away from his hold; disappearing from him and the wall, leaving him burning and confused.
You skipped down the dimly lit hallway, turning your head to look at him before you entered the rest of the dark apartment.
A deeply tormented breath tore from his throat, laced with half amusement, and half fucking agony as he pushed off the wall.
"Yobany ad," he huffed, stalking after you through the dark apartment, pulling his tie from around his neck.
The freezer light flickered on when you pulled it open, brightening your smile as you pulled out a tub of ice cream. It was his favourite, because of course you’d use it against him. Two temptations.
He didn’t slow his steps, didn’t hesitate. Just crowded you against the counter as you leaned against it, facing him as you dug the spoon into the icecream. His hands gripped the counter either side of you, his gaze was locked on your face.
Your focus was locked on the spoon you brought up between you; “Want some?” Your eyes lifted to meet his, clashing against his hungry stare.
He didn't say anything, so you moved the spoon closer to his lips; he parted them, almost about to take the spoon into his mouth before you quickly turned your hand and took it for yourself.
You kept your eyes on him, a deep smile appearing on your face and met your eyes as he tilted his head at your actions; frustrating him even more.
The frustration in his eyes was evident, and it only made your smile widen.
“You enjoy this?” He asked.
You made sure to maintain his gaze as you brought the spoonful into your mouth.
“Yeah,” You confirmed slowly, letting the spoon linger just a second too long against your lips before pulling it away, “I really do.”
You tilted your head slightly, eyes not leaving his.
“Something about it just—” You paused, letting the moment stretch, “—hits exactly where I need it.”
Another spoonful.
Slower this time.
“Cold at first…” You murmured, almost thoughtfully, “but it doesn’t stay that way for long.”
Your tongue dragged lightly across the spoon, deliberately, before you pulled it from your mouth.
“I could have it every night and still not get sick of it,” you added with a small, satisfied hum, “honestly, I think I’d go a little crazy without it.”
A soft shrug followed, completely innocent in contrast to your tone.
“I just love having something to…” you glanced at him, lips curving slightly, “…take my time with.”
You were about to offer him another spoonful, this time planning on actually letting him have some, but he took the spoon from your fingers.
You blinked, unsure of what he was going to do with the spoon until he brought it up to you. You assumed he was going to feed it to you, until he let the ice-cream drip down your chin.
He watched the spoon drag the sweetness down, leaving a trail of ice cream in its path.
“It is rude not to share,” He said, leaning down and licking the ice-cream from your skin.
His hot tongue made you gasp, and goosebumps started to erupt along your exposed skin.
You swallowed hard, your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him lick and kiss away at the melting ice-cream. His lips pressed a kiss to your throat before he leaned back, his eyes were low on you.
You tilted your head to meet his gaze; the playful look you had was now one that echoed your deepest desires.
In one swift motion he lifted you up onto the kitchen island with one arm, the cold surface met your bare thighs without any warning and it made you gasp along with the sudden movement.
You would have made a dirty joke asking why his dominant hand was stronger than the other one if you weren't so flustered and lost for words.
Your control had completely diminished. Ilya had let you have it for a little bit, and that was always how it would go. He would allow himself to surrender to it; and then he would take it back just when you were so close to victory.
He pushed your legs apart and slotted himself between them, pressing himself close to you as he took the tub of icecream from your hand.
Your heart was beating at a wild rate inside of your chest, you could only watch and wait as he stood between your legs; so tall and built. You were obsessed with every part of him.
You were just as addicted to him as he was to you.
He dipped the spoon into the tub of icecream, his stare was fixed on you, watching you intently; studying your reactions as he slowly lifted the spoon.
He paused, raising the spoon up, letting you take in the drop of ice cream falling off the spoon. It landed on your skin and he leaned lower to lick the sweetness from your skin.
“It tastes better on you,” He said lowly, his other hand gripped your hip more firmly as he pressed himself deeper against you; his clothed hardness pressing into your inner thigh.
Your core ached between your thighs, and your breath caught in your throat before you could reply to his words.
You were burning up, you were almost sweating with how the temperature rose between the two of you.
The damn icecream was surprisingly no help to your nervous system.
The spoon met your lips, and he gently pushed it into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around it, your tongue darted out to meet the ice cream.
He watched you intently, pulling the spoon free to then replace it with his own lips; kissing you deeply to taste the icecream.
You gasped softly into his mouth and tangled your fingers into the strands of his hair, pulling him closer. The hardness pressed against you was driving you insane.
You pulled away from his mouth, your breaths heavy and shaky, his gaze was locked intensely on you, you licked your lower lip; tasting the ice cream and then him.
He brought another spoonful up, “You want more?” He asked, raising his brow slightly as you gazed breathlessly at the spoon.
“No,” You said, no longer wanting to go through the painful wait. Desperate to have him here and now.
A smirk pulled his lips up, “Shame,” He almost tsk’d, “I’m not done.”
He tucked his fingers under your chin and tilted your head bead, exposing the length of your neck so that he could run the cold spoonful of icecream down it.
You felt him lick the already melting drips up, starting from the bottom. You didn't know how to react to it; your chest was already rising and falling at an alarming rate, and the pressure between your thighs became harder to cope with.
It made my writhe against his lower half, rubbing against him in a way that made him let out a soft sound into your neck.
The sensation caused by his licks, kisses, and nips at your skin almost made a moan leave your lips. It was borderline a moan, but it was more breathy; more desperate.
His hands travelled down to the zipper of your dress, tugging it down and releasing your from the hugging fabric. He slid his fingers underneath the sleeves, slowly pulling it down to expose more of your skin.
He continued kissing your neck as he pulled the dress further down. You had gone bra-less tonight, and it was one of the things which had been driving him over the edge all night.
It was bunched down at your hips now, your entire upper half was all there for him to take in.
His hands released your dress, finding their waist to your waist before smoothing up to your ribcage. His touch on your bare skin only made the heat in your lower abdomen burn even more.
He kissed up now, moving his mouth up your neck to capture your lips in his as he lowered you down onto the counter. When your back was pressed against it, he pulled away and straightened up.
He looked down at you.
His eyes travelled over your naked skin, savouring the sight of you like this for him. So exposed and needy. It sent a feeling through his body—it was almost primal. Like, yes, you're mine to take. You need me.
You thought he was going to take his belt off and finally get to the good part, but he picked up the tub of icecream again; grabbing another spoonful of it.
“Ilya…” You almost groaned in frustration at his teasing. It was only fair if you did it, of course. It was fun for you, but now you have to take the punishment for your crimes.
He made sure to look you in the eye as he brought the spoon to your chest, slowly dragging the ice cream over the soft flesh and to the most sensitive part.
You shifted underneath him, trying to relieve the pressure between your thighs and the sudden cold feeling of the icecream on your nipple.
It only made his expression darken, his body stayed still as he looked down at you; so worked up and needy. But he took his sweet time. You deserved it.
You wanted to play? You'll play.
His free hand slid under the curve of your back, lifting you slightly as he leaned down and closed his mouth over the chilled peak, tongue swirling hot and insistent to melt away the sweetness.
Your back arched instinctively toward him with a sharp gasp, fingers clutching at his shoulders as his teeth grazed ever so slightly—just enough to make your thighs squeeze around his hips in silent pleading.
He hummed approvingly against your skin, the vibration sending fresh quakes through you before he pulled back just enough to murmur, "So sweet"
Your teasing was fine. But his teasing was downright criminal.
“I don't want icecream,” You breathed out, opening your eyes again to watch him. His eyes were closed as he worked his way across to your other breast, following the trail of icecream which led to your other nipple.
“No?” He murmured before taking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it to lap at the melted icecream.
One of his hands had found your lower half, inching up underneath the dress to your black lace panties.
The contact of his fingers as they gently traced over the lace of your panties made you gasp, and he pulled his mouth away your breast; “Didn't know icecream made you so wet.”
You bit your lip at the feeling of the friction of his fingers ghosting over the soaked fabric.
"This what you wanted?" His voice was pure sex as he dragged a single fingertip up your center, torturously slow, gathering the undeniable proof of your arousal, "Or were you hoping I'd make you wait longer, Moya lyubimaya?"
He let his fingertip hover just before dipping beneath the lace, watching your breath hitch.
"Hmm?"
You sighed softly, it was a sound that emulated you pleasure and frustration; “I didn't think that far ahead,” you told him, almost frowning at the outcome.
There you were all high and mighty—only to be kicked off your horse with one swift movement. You assumed it was the one-armed lift he did that made you double over and switch gears.
He smirked darkly at your answer, thoroughly enjoying watching you become a mess beneath him. His fingertip finally dipped beneath the lace, curling his finger under the the material and pulled it down.
"Next time," he murmured, voice rough with desire as he leaned down to nip at your earlobe, fully removing your panties and dropping them to the floor, "think further ahead."
He used both hands to push your thighs apart again, this time further.
And then he gave you what you’d been aching for, sinking two fingers into you with a groan against your neck while his thumb circled just right—it was punishment and pleaure.
Your choked moan was all he had been wanting to hear. It was like a siren song calling out to him. He let a low moan escape his mouth in response to hearing the sweet sound.
You felt his breath hot against your ear, his nose grazing the outer shell; you wanted to reach up to touch him, to dig your fingers into his hair, to feel the strength of his shoulders—so you did. Because he was all yours.
Every single side of him. Right now you felt the dominant side of him which made your blood burn. The side that took control from the one who tried to take control. It filled you with a sense of belonging, a carnal need which only he could tend to. You couldn't thrive if it wasn't with him.
His mouth made it’s way across your jaw and down your neck, painting you in desperately hungry, open-mouthed kisses. It was different to the way he was kissing you before. It showed his desire, a frenzied passion that let you know he wanted you badly too.
You tilted your head back to give him better access to your neck, your body arching up against him as you made more sounds. You felt his breath quicken, his teeth grazing your skin made a soft moan escape your lips.
You could feel him rocking his aching hardness against you to relieve the feeling, you were both getting impatient.
“Ilya—,” You managed to let out through your breaths, reacting feverishly under his touch; his fingers moved perfectly, he was rubbing circles, tipping you over the edge, “I’m gonna cum.”
His lips curled into that devilish smile against your throat, and he lifted his head up from your neck, his eyes were low on yours; taking in every bit of pleasure in your face.
He said nothing as he added his other hand, using his fingers to press deep and curled them, that mixed with his other fingers which were rubbing circles maximised the pleasure you were feeling. You gripped him tighter.
“Not yet,” Ilya told you; his voice was huskier, mirroring what he was feeling inside.
His words almost made you finish right there, it would have been a sweet relief.
Your head turned, your lips moved close to his ear as you whispered a desperate; “Please…. please… please.”
A deep groan vibrated against your skin at the sound of your plea.
"Moya devochka," he murmured roughly before moving down and capturing your breast in his mouth, “So sweet to me.”
Your hips rolled against him, pressing further into his hands. He wanted to drag out this feeling for as long as he could.
"You want to cum?" He whispered when he brought his face back up, nudging his nose into the side of your face, “Hmm?”
"Yes," Was all you could say, unable to form sentences that made sense.
He nipped the skin of your jaw, “You ask nicely."
You couldn't decide whether you wanted to strangle him or kiss him to death right now.
"Please," You whined, your head dropping back in frustration.
He watched you with that look in his eyes, enjoying every second of your pleasure. He watched the way you head tilted to the side like you always did, the way your breath staggered in that one specific way he knew you were about to finish; wanting to kiss the way your lips parted even further to make that gentle ‘o’ shape you always did.
“No.”
And he stopped, removing his hands and leaving you to bask in the empty feeling.
Your eyes opened and they immediately went to glare at him; sexual frustration wasn't kind to you, especially not when you were just a second away from finishing.
You were sure you were gonna hit him over the head with the icecream tub.
The second your arms lifted to retaliate, he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head against the countertop in one smooth motion. His hips pressed yours harder into the marble.
"Patience," he murmured, lips brushing yours, "Not so fun is it," his Russian accent curled thickly around the words.
Then his mouth was on yours in a fiery kiss, swallowing your frustrated whimper as his free hand slid down your body again; slowly.
Only to skip over where you needed him most, fingertips skating along your inner thigh instead, lingering just there, maddeningly close.
"Hmm?" His teeth grazed your lower lip, gaze locked onto yours.
You narrowed your eyes at him, your chest heaved up and down as your body came down from the broken high, “Fuck you.”
His smirk grew wider, amused by your reaction.
He kept one of his hands holding your wrists down as he began to slowly pull the rest of your dress off your body.
"Such dirty talk," He muttered before kissing you again, sliding his hand up your thigh, over your hip, and up your stomach; feeling your soft flesh.
He nipped your bottom lip playfully before pulling away from you again, straightening fully up.
His dark eyes burned as he took in the sight of you, fully bare and breathless beneath him. The way your chest rose and fell, the slight tremble in your thighs, the defiance still hanging back in your gaze. It was perfect to him.
Slowly, he began to unbutton his shirt; his eyes never breaking contact with yours even as he reached the very last button and pushed the piece of clothing off his body.
Your eyes roamed hungrily over him, all over the smooth skin and firm muscle. The way you looked at him made him feel warm.
And then his hands moved to his belt, the metallic click made your breath hitch. You always loved the sound of belted being undone during times like this; it always sent shiver of excitement through your body.
The belt slid free with a low whisper of leather, and your breath caught when he let it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. His fingers worked quickly on the button of his pants, popping it open, then dragging the zipper down. He worked agonisingly slow—just to watch your eyes darken with want.
One push and his pants were pooling at his feet, leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs, the fabric straining against the hard outline of his hardness.
His gaze never left yours as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, ready to finally give you every inch of him.
A rush of satisfaction washed over you when he was bare in front of you, your gaze dropped down to look him over. Your breathing was heavy, but not from frustration this time.
You wanted him; you wanted him so badly.
He was a work of art, one you wanted to worship; you wanted to be consumed by him. You were obsessed with need and desire. being like this with him wasn't enough.
Your gaze travelled up over him, stopping at the defined muscles of his stomach, then his broad chest which rose up and down in heavy pants. You could see the veins running down his arms. You met his dark eyes.
The tension in his jaw was evident, and how he swallowed thickly, barely holding on to his control.
You let out a sound of satisfaction, urging him wordlessly to come back to you. Hearing it made something inside of him snap; he was moving again
He was back on you in a second, pressing his body flush against yours as he took a hold of himself and guided his hardness into you.
Your soft moan mixed with his at the feeling, both of you letting out a sound of relief. His arms slipped under your knees, lifting your lower half up a little for a better angle as he rocked into you.
His mouth was back on yours in an instant, rough and deep. He kissed you hard, and you kissed him back with just as much force.
Your fingers curled into the muscles of his shoulders, his skin was warm under your touch. He was everywhere; all over you and in you. It was like drowning.
Your head dropped back again, breaking away for air, his lips moved from yours to your neck. He left wet kisses on your skin until he found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, sweet sensations erupted from the contact.
He kissed his way back up, and your eyes locked with his, drowning in the rawness burning there as he drove into you again, harder this time, deeper. Your gasps echoed between you, his soft moans only intensified the pleasure.
His movements became ruthless, each thrust stealing your breath, each snap of his hips tearing desperate moans from your lips.
His hand moved to your face, cupping your jaw as he made you look at him, to take in every expression; to look into his eyes in the same way he was doing to you.
His touch was gentle, a great contract to the intensity of his movements. His thumb moved to your bottom lip, dragging it down enough for him to brush his thumb across the tender flesh.
“Yebat',” He wanted to say something more, to express how good you made him feel; but he wasn't able to focus enough to talk.
Your eyes flickered between his; watching the pleasure play across his face—the tension in his features and the sweat on his forehead. It was a sight that you were in awe of.
Your fingers reached up to brush your fingertips across his forehead, pushing back the soft strands of his dark blonde hair which was beginning to stick.
He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours.
The kiss broke when your head fell back, your eyes closed upon the feeling of immense pleasure; familiar with the feeling.
“Like that…” You pleaded, barely coherent as your back arched further off the counter—your chest pressing into his.
His eyes remained on your face as he brought his fingers down to rub circles on you, his breathing was ragged as he watched you gasp out in pleasure.
"Cum for me," He finally spoke, keeping up with the pace and maintaining the angle he set which was perfect for you.
He knew not to change it up when that sweet spot was found, any faster or slower would throw you off. And my god, you counted your lucky stars when you found out he knew that.
Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders as you shattered beneath him, a blissful surge washed over you; drenching you in nothing but euphoria. All your senses and abilities stopped in that very moment. The electric current moved from your core in waves throughout your body.
And Ilya didn't stop his thrusts or the circles he made on your sensitive core. It had you crying out and gripping onto him for dear life, writhing beneath him as your hips tried to squirm away from the feeling.
His free arm wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he chased his own release.
You pulsed around him, and his thrusts turned erratic at the feeling; soft moans painted the skin of your neck.
but the moans that tore from his throat was absolutely filthy when he finally came undone.
He slowed his movements, riding through the waves of ecstasy that crashed over him, before he slowly lowered your body back down to the counter.
He rested his forehead against your shoulder while he tried to catch his breath. Your fingers combed through his hair as you tried to ground yourself; chests rising and falling heavily as exhaustion took over.
The sound of the air conditioning hummed underneath your heavy breathing. You mentally patted yourself on the back for forgetting to turn it off when you left; the happy mistake allowed your hot body to bask in nice cold air.
Ilya lifted his head, and you found yourself looking into his eyes again. He was a mess; hair ruffled, sweat clinging to his skin, lips swollen, and out of breath. He looked perfect to you.
“Guess what,” You said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.
He lifted his hand to brush your hair away from your face; his eyes roaming over you lovingly.
His fingers skimmed along your cheek, “What?” He asked you quietly, savouring the way you looked right now.
“I didn't actually want icecream,” You confessed, and a small grin made its way to your face at your admission.
He was quiet for a moment, taking in your words; then a slow and amused smile spread across his lips.
He gave you a soft look, shaking his head slightly before a small, huff of a laugh left his lips.
He leaned down to kiss you gently, whispering against your mouth, "Parshivets.”
He kissed you, sealing the word you didn't understand with his lips as he pulled out of you and straightened up.
You sat up, holding yourself up with your elbows, “What does that mean?”
He stepped back a little, laying his hands on your knees as he watched the mess between your legs. His gaze moved back up until it was back on your face.
He leaned down, gently pushing you backwards to have you lay back on the counter again, before his hands hooked under your thighs and slid you closer to the edge.
You watched him expectantly, assuming you two were gonna go shower and wondering what he was planning to do now.
He moved closer down, between your legs as he spoke, his voice was soft, “Just that I love you.”
You frowned, watching him kiss the inside of your thigh as you racked your brain over all the times he said “I love you” in Russian, and that wasn't it.
“No it doesn't,” You told him as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, seeing his eyes flicker up to meet yours.
“No?” He mused, not caring too much about backing his statement anymore before his mouth landed on your sweet spot; earning a soft moan from your lips which shut you up completely.
Your back met the counter again, and your head fell back as your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer to you.
He let out a pleased hum at the feeling, enjoying the way your grip tightened when he curled his tongue against you in just the right way. He moaned into you, enjoying the way you tasted and the way you reacted to his touch.
He was certain, not even his favourite ice cream tasted so sweet and good as you.