you know, since this mafia hollanov au part is getting (much) longer than i anticipated, have a snippet:
*
“Relax,” Ilya says with a smirk, “is hair dye. I like my hoes blonde now.”
Shane bites back the first comment that rises up his throat. He can’t help the eye roll, though. “If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you don’t have a type.”
Ilya’s eyes flash, with delight more than with danger, and he slowly walks up to him, pressing, pressing, and Shane doesn’t even realize he’s been giving ground until his back hits a cold wall with an audible thud.
Ilya hums. His nose is a hair-width away from Shane’s. “And is that the only wrong thing you know about me?”
Shane hates the way his breath hitches. Ilya smirks widens.
“It’s not wrong,” Shane argues back. It’s not. He’s spent a significant amount of time learning everything he could about Ilya off every scrap of information law enforcement had on him, and then several more years by getting to know him…more intimately.
He realizes Ilya’s crowded him against the restroom door when he reaches around to open it. Shane stumbles backwards and a strong, unreasonably warm hand catches him by the waist, stabilizing him.
“No? Мой любимый,” Ilya coos, and Shane flushes up to his ears, the nickname, coloured by cadence of Ilya’s voice, how it sounds in Russian, hitting him so unexpectedly he gasps without meaning to. “You have always been a bad liar.”
Ilya keeps his hand on Shane’s waist, walking him into the restroom, close enough that Shane starts to feel the heat of his body through his clothes. He uses his other hand to carelessly pull the door closed behind them, locking it without even so much as a backward glance.
“Fooled you,” Shane shoots back and immediately clamps his mouth shut, biting at his tongue.
He feels a sick little thrill, a sort of vindication maybe, when Ilya’s breath catches.
they're laying in ilya's bed post-fuck, shane all cuddled into ilya's side warm and sticky and pliant....(they're falling in love but they don't know it yet).....and ilya begins his usual routine, reaches over to his nightstand and lights a cig. and shane cuddles in a little closer, wrinkling his nose with a groan, burying it in ilya's skin to avoid the cig smell. and ilya just chuckles and brings it to his mouth, takes a puff, ruffles shane's hair.
"i really just don't see the appeal," his voice is muffled against ilya's pec, "it smells, it makes your teeth yellow, it messes up your fingernails, it can give you lung c-"
"and it tastes so fucking good after sex," ilya interrupts, and shane watches as he holds the smoke in for a brief moment before expending it from the corner of his mouth, angled away from shane - polite.
"there's just no fucking way," shane turns his head a bit, "you're just addicted to it so it tastes good to you now."
"same difference," ilya takes another puff, smiling down at shane's frown, "you want to try?"
"a cigarette? are you joking?" shane sits up incredulously, brow furrowed, "no, i like being in peak athletic form, thank you very much."
ilya rolls his eyes, reaching over to tap the tip of his cig against the ash tray at his bedside, "one cigarette is not going to do anything, hollander," he says matter-of-factly, "and i am also in peak athletic form by the way, if you had not noticed."
shane scoffs, "that's what you think. who knows what your performance would be like if you weren't inhaling those death sticks every hour of every day."
"is not that much."
"coulda fooled me."
ilya raises an eyebrow, "hollander, you're not actually mad about this are you? i will not force you to smoke a cigarette. you are fine."
"i know," shane grumbles, beginning to ease off the bed, eyes searching for his underwear discarded somewhere on the floor, "i just think you're being stupid, that's all."
"oh, that's all?" sardonic as always, ilya takes another puff, this time not bothering to exhale in the opposite direction. smoke trails past his lips and hovers over the center of the bed between the two of them.
shane stares. "seriously, what's the appeal? what was ever the appeal, before you started?"
ilya shrugs, lips downturned, "i don't know. is what everyone was doing. my friends, my brother. just seemed like normal thing."
"how old were you? when you had your first one?"
"twelve."
shane blinks. once, twice. his brow furrows even more, which ilya didn't think was possible. "you were twelve years old when you started smoking," he states.
another shrug, "was normal."
"that's crazy, rozanov," shane is staring at the cigarette now, and ilya sees something in his eyes that he can't place. he looks focused and yet far away, like he's debating something in his mind.
"why? because i was having fun while you were watching mickey mouse?"
"because you- your body should not be in the condition it's in if it's been over ten years since you started. that doesn't make any sense. i don't think i've ever even heard you cough." shane seems to be spiraling a little, and ilya's not really sure why.
"why does it matter?" he asks with another shrug, "i am healthy, so no big deal."
"but it won't always be that way," shane is still halfway off the bed, one leg next to ilya's under the sheets while the other rests naked on the edge, like he's not sure if he wants to get up or stay seated, "it'll catch up to you eventually, it always does."
another shrug, "then i will quit."
"just like that? easy?"
"easy."
shane shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips, "you're unbelievable."
"thank you," ilya grins and taps the cig again, "and the offer still stands."
"...offer?"
"if you want to try, just ask."
shane breathes out through his nose, part laugh part huff, and finally pulls himself out of the bed. ilya watches, cigarette in hand, as shane nakedly crosses the room to pick up his briefs.
"no shower?" ilya asks; it's not a tease.
"nah, i promised hayden i'd get dinner with him and jackie at four," shane tugs his underwear on, "and if we get a shower i'm gonna end up blowing you." ilya doesn't think he'll ever be over the nonchalance of shane hollander saying things like blowing you in his bedroom at three o'clock on a weekday. he twitches under the sheets.
"are you sure? can be quick."
shane laughs, grin wide and beautiful as he reaches for his t-shirt, "we can not be quick. you know that." and the crazy thing is, ilya does know that. because this has been going on for so long now that they just know these things. shane just knows he'll want to take his time with ilya's cock, he knows he'll be on his knees in the shower until his skin gets wrinkly and uncomfortable, he knows ilya will want to return the favor as soon as he's done.
ilya sniffs, the scent of smoke beginning to permeate throughout the room. he watches shane tug on his sweatpants. "tell hayden i said hi."
shane rolls his eyes, walking back over to the bed to grab his phone from the other nightstand. he unlocks it and skims his notifications briefly before stuffing it in his pocket and turning his attention back to ilya.
"two weeks?" he asks, a confirmation.
"two weeks," ilya echoes back with a nod, "c'mere."
shane flushes a little, ilya's favorite thing, and then he's kneeling on the bed to press a soft kiss to ilya's lips, eyelashes fanning gorgeously over his freckled cheeks. ilya kisses back with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, fingers tightening on the cig so it doesn't drop.
"you taste like smoke," shane mumbles against ilya's lips, but he doesn't pull away. instead he deepens the kiss a little, hand coming up to cup ilya's face tenderly.
"you like it," ilya murmurs, slipping his tongue into shane's mouth. shane groans a little, breath shaky, pulls away to peer down at ilya hazily. ilya nudges his nose against shane's, chasing his lips, "admit it."
"mmm..." shane's response is soft, light, thumb stroking the apple of ilya's cheek as they continue to kiss unhurriedly, like suddenly they have all the time in the world. ilya brings his hand up, cigarette still burning between his fingers, and holds it in front of his face, in front of shane's.
"you want to taste it, hollander?" he asks, voice low and hushed, "i won't tell."
shane's eyes are lidded and droopy, gaze falling to the cigarette growing smaller the longer he dawdles. he does seem to be thinking about it, and ilya figures he'll make the decision for him before he chickens out.
"come here," he murmurs, bringing the cig to his lips and his other hand to the back of shane's head. he cradles it, fingers scratching through shane's dark hair as he takes a slow puff. he uses his pinkie finger to tap shane's bottom lip.
shane doesn't move away, doesn't say no. instead, he closes his eyes and ilya watches as he opens his mouth. just enough to kiss. just enough for ilya to lean in and softly press their lips together. for him to carefully blow the exhaled smoke into shane's mouth. shane's eyelashes flutter, nose crinkling a bit - but he doesn't cough. he breathes slowly, precisely, like he somehow knows exactly what to do, inhaling obediently, taking it all into his throat and his athletic lungs.
"good?" ilya murmurs when he pulls away, and shane slowly opens his eyes. he's going to that place again, ilya can tell. that place ilya takes him so often. soft. docile. pliant.
"mhm," shane nods, blinking slowly. he's looking at ilya's lips.
"let's shower," ilya says softly, reaching behind him to press the remainder of the cigarette into the ashtray, dropping it from his fingers. he turns back to shane and strokes his cheek gently, thumbing his freckles, "hm? don't go yet." he's not usually this needy. or this obvious. but shane needs him now, they both know it.
"okay," shane mumbles, and a small tendril of smoke slips past his lips alongside the word.
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