Ilya waking up in the middle of the night it’s somewhere between three and four am. He doesn’t know ehat woke him up, but he’s all mostly asleep and still all heavy and eyes shut when he realises his Shane is nowhere to be seen. Or felt. Really since his eyes are shut. Ilya is like ????????!!!!!!!! What ! The heck and his hands are fumbling on the mattress looking and he’s like what. The hell. Where is he.
And when he has no success in finding the warm skin of Shane, he craves and squints one exhausted eye half open peering around the dark of the room, a small amount of moonlight through the window. He sees a lump across the bed from him just out of his arm span. Shane. Ilya pushes his tired body up onto his elbow, presses his fist into one eye and scrubs at it until he can blink both of them open. He shivers, a cool breeze pushing in from the ajar window- Shane likes the cool air even in winter, because he likes the thick covers in bed and the weight of Ilya but he hates overheating- so as a man that runs very warm the crack of the window is enough balance for all his comforts. Ilya gets cold easy but he doesn’t mind too much, when he has Shane to keep him warm. But his Shane has rolled away in his sleep and this will not do.
Ilya takes a big shuddery breath, yawns and scoots himself closer to his boy, his hand moving to find Shane’s bare waist. His skin radiates warm and Ilya smiles, a warm soft thing. His Shane. Ilya moves until he’s draped up over Shane’s back, grunts as he nuzzles his face to find the curve of Shane’s warm neck. He presses his nose to soft short hairs at the base of Shane’s neck, takes a hungry breath of him, his shampoo and skin and soap and sweat. Ilya wants to bite him. He wants to keep him on his tongue forever. Ilya’s arm is curled to his own chest, the other arm slung over Shane’s sleepy soft form. His hand is flat on Shane’s stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths. Ilya uses his hand to pull Shane back into him, pressed flush to Ilya’s chest, and Ilya tangles their legs, digs his cold toes into Shane’s calf. He lets out a sleepy happy moan, it’s so fucking good, holding Shane, waking up and having the other half of his heart laying in the bed within arms reach, to wake up and look over and seek out his love, make himself cosy with him.
Ilya squeezes Shane again, rubs his face into his neck and shoulder. Fuck he loves him so horribly. He wants to exist in this moment forever, holding Shane in the sleep suspended hours of the night, nothing to do but curl closer and sleep together, find rest with each other. Be gentle and with his Shane, feel him breath. Shane makes a soft sound and Ilya fears he’s woken him, kisses by Shane’s ear and rubs his hand over his side and hip. Shane makes a slurred sound that could be Ilya’s name, could be a yawn or just total gibberish. Ilya keeps petting him, hoping Shane won’t wake up. Shane moves again, fussed and then rolls over in Ilya’s arms, like a sleepy angry worm he fusses and wriggles until his face is mushed against Ilya’s chest, Ilya flat to bed with the weight of Shane on him, still asleep breaths deep even and heavy. Ilya tucks his smile into Shane’s hair and nuzzles at his temples, pulls the covers up over Shane’s shoulders and smooths a hand up and down Shane’s back, the other resting on his ass, fingers slipped under the waistband.
Ilya fights sleep as long as he can, to feel his Shane close, feel how they breathe together, how Shane’s hand is tucked against Ilya’s neck.
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