shane comes home early and beelines straight into the living room, where ilya is lounging on the couch, watching something on tv. before he even knows it, shane’s there, dropping to his knees in front of ilya.
“shane?” ilya barely manages to ask, but he’s cut off by his own moan when shane unceremoniously pulls down his sweats and gets his mouth on ilya’s dick.
it’s the fastest blowjob in both of their lives — ilya comes pretty quickly, mostly because shane just goes ham on it, sucking his husband off like he knows it’s his last day on earth. ilya is still a bit dazed when shane pulls away, lips slick and glistening, and climbs into ilya’s lap. ilya’s hands loosely rest on shane’s hips, barely latched, since his soul was literally just sucked straight out through his dick. but shane is still trying to grind down on him, his swollen lips kneading and biting up and down ilya’s throat.
“shane, lyubov moya,” ilya tries, gently prying shane’s face away from his neck. “i love this, i love the energy, but can you please say what the fuck is going on?”
shane frowns when he gets pulled away, but ilya can see that his eyes are filled with something close to… fear?
“i read something,” shane whispers, like it’s a horrible secret. “on the internet. they said… ilya, i need you to promise me it’s not true.”
“i don’t even know what,” ilya says, smiling a bit in an attempt to soothe his husband. “if they said you have sexiest husband, sorry, cannot deny.”
“no, ilya.” shane groans, his thighs squeezing tighter around ilya’s hips. “they said… jesus fuck. they said you’d be happy to retire and become my wag.”
ilya’s eyes grow twice as wide, eyebrows shooting up. “what? what kind of idiot said that?”
“i don’t know, just… people.” shane waves a hand around. “they said that you’d be happy to retire right now, stay at home to raise our children — which we don’t even have, by the way — and…” shane gulps. “…and cheer for me at my games.”
ilya can’t help a startled laugh at the image that immediately appears in his mind. it’s absurd, to say the least. he shakes his head.
“not happening,” he says, rubbing slow, firm circles into shane’s hips that he’s still trying to grind into ilya’s lap. “how can i leave you alone on ice, hollander? you will regress to rookie, and mlh will become beer league.”
shane pushes at his chest. he’s not smiling at this as ilya hoped he would be. “exactly. i can’t do this without you, ilya. i’m serious. fuck children. fuck retirement. none of this wag bullshit, okay?”
ilya grins up at him. “wouldn’t dream of it. shane, the only way i’m leaving ice before you is dead.”
“i’ll find one of those sketchy witches and resurrect you then,” shane says, and his lips, still shiny with spit from the blowjob, stretch in a smile at last.
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