hi bug you know how when ilya comes back after the game in montreal is cancelled and he ends up laying svetlana out on the dining room table as he whispers in russian?
thats him when he comes back from being away from shane about his hole. he drops everything he's holding the second he walks in, and shane is only wearing a loose fitting t shirt cause he knows exactly how this goes. ilya practically lunges for him and is immediately hoisting shane up onto their table, kissing him fiercely for a couple of minutes before dragging shane to the edge and throwing his legs over his shoulders so he can grab shanes cheeks and spread them wide.
and hes just murmuring to himself the whole time, "so hungry, so fucking hungry for you, baby. missed you, missed my sweet little hole. so pretty, love when you're ready for me like this. need it, need it so bad, fuck shanya please let me please please ..."
and shane is just preening from the attention and whimpering/grinding his hips as ikya devours him
My heart is RACINg YIPPEEEE. Yum. This is so fucking hooooot I love this so much.
I adore the idea of Ilya being desperate to be back there, worshipping Shane, worshiping his hole. Like Ilya is just so fucking whipped for his Shane, he is fucking obsessed, how can he not be. Shane is so perfect, so gorgeous, so his and Ilya loves him, loves fucking him, loves the pleasure he finds in Shane’s body, loves what they have. How can Ilya not be devotional, not be obsessed- any good man who had seen Shane Hollanders soft needy eyes as he’s filled with cock, the way he melts away like it’s total bliss to be filled, then bend at the knee too when they were away for too long. Let alone the fact Shane is his soulmate, a part of him that he felt like he was born find- that Shane was his in every life before this and will be in every one after.
Ilya would feel superficial, shallow with how obsessed he was with Shane’s body, if it wasn’t for the way his love for it being shanes body specifically being the most overwhelming part of it. It’s the fact it’s Shane that makes him so desperately magnetised to him, to his body. Shane makes him feel like a feral dog guarding his home sometimes, starving and snapping to protect what’s his, to have what’s his. Shane is his.
He kisses Shane like a man drowning when he sees him after a long time apart, it’s wet and messy and makes Ilya’s jaw ache, how aggressively he kisses him, desperate to taste Shane, feels him, connect to him. Physical connection is such a key part of his how they express love and Ilya feels frantic to feel Shane again, to taste him, to be one, just them, the same body. To make the universe they do when they are together- nothing else outside them.
Ilya is shivery with it and so is Shane- after all those years apart- being apart and coming back together is still some old horrible kind of ache, a deep bruise that throbs when it happens. This used to be so scare, so precious, so hidden that it feels desperate sometimes still. They break the kiss and Shane is kissing over Ilya’s face, leaning up into him still as he pulls away until Ilya eases him back onto the table with hand pushing down his hips up up to his chest, holding him down before he drops to his knees.
Shane’s hands are in his hair as Ilya throws his legs over his shoulders, kisses and bites at his thighs before he makes his way down, uses his hands to open Shane’s thighs and tilt him up and there he is. Ilya makes a hungry sound and Shane is whimpering as Ilya fucking makes out with his hole, like he had with him moments earlier. Kissing him hello there too. Shane can hear his frantic mutters, the “missed you missed you missed you, fuck so fucking pretty, you missed me too didn’t you baby? Missed me filling you? Looking after you? Hmm” he growls and his hands are wrapped around Shane’s thighs, hands gripping, pulling him up into his face.
And Shane is like “shh shh its okay, Ilya- I’m here, I fuck I missed you too, missed you, needed you, needed you right there, yeah, its yours it is is yours Ilya” and he’s finding Ilya’s hands, fingers tangling, squeezing. Shane’s so hard his head is spinning.
Shane pulls one hand from Ilya’s to sit up a bit, leant back on an elbow, his hand petting over the back of Ilya’s head. He watches Ilya’s head moving hungrily and Shane is shivering and Ilya still has his fucking jacket and shoes on, his bag is by his feet, his hands are still cold from being outside. It looks indecent, Shane’s naked soft thighs over Ilya’s clothed shoulders, heels scrambling at Ilya’s upper back, against the thick fabric of his coat.
