Before Ilya, Shane's go to jerk off fantasy is that he has to suck maybe six or so dicks back to back. He's somewhere locker room adjacent maybe like a sauna changing room and six beautiful muscular men come in, naked and already hard and Shane knows what his role is. They're strong and athletic but obviously they aren't hockey players that would be too much.
They surround him while he takes the first one in his mouth, and one of them touches his shoulder gently. He can't tell which one. They're pretty quiet as he gets started, only the quiet grunts of the man with his cock in Shane's mouth. Shane has never sucked a dick in real life, only his fingers when he's feeling the right mix of horny, brave, and safely hidden, but in his fantasy he's good at it and he loves it. He knows the smell of men so he sinks into that in his imagination, the smell of the man's sweat concentrated in his pubic hair, and the weight of Shane's own arousal settling like water between his legs as he works.
The first guy always comes on his face, with his hand in Shane's hair, sometimes gentle sometimes tight and demanding. The second man usually comes on his chest, but not always. After that he lets it get hazy in his mind. He imagines the warmth and satisfaction of their come on him, the smell of it, the shame. He's too shy to imagine them coming in his mouth. When he tries his imagination skitters away from him at the last second so he imagines come dripping down his neck and cooling on his collar bones instead. As he takes them one by one, they get louder and louder behind him. Grunting and swearing, moaning, jerking themselves off loudly while they wait for his mouth. They tell him to take it, they tell each other how good he looks covered in them, they goad each other on to hold out longer, keep fucking his mouth, is that all you've got. And they touch him more, his back, his neck, one of them comes up right behind him and presses his hairy chest to Shane's back even though he's sweaty from how hard he's working and wraps his arms around him to hold each of Shanes thighs in each of his huge hands. Shane imagines he has dark hair on his knuckles and he always gets stuck there for a minute. Later, one of them sits next to Shane on the bench and lays an arm over his shoulders, soft and friendly, until he reaches up to fist Shane's hair and hold him down on the other guys dick. Shane has to do a good job, they know he can perform, produce, and if he doesn't they'll make him live up to his potential.
Shane imagines his mouth gets so sore and wet, his lips bruised over his teeth, drool and jizz and tears everywhere, but he has to make it good for them.
The last guy is always the biggest of all and his cock is so hard from watching Shane. He shoves himself past Shane's sore lips and into his mouth, which is still miraculously wet and hot and perfect inside and Shane sucks him perfectly. The last guy is sweet, stroking Shane's disgusting cheek and calling him beautiful, perfect, good. He whispers thank you, Hollander, as he comes, or maybe he whispers take it, or maybe you're mine and Shane feels it as a shudder through his whole body, like he's going to come too. He pulls Shane up off the ground and lets him lean against his beautiful, muscular body, even though Shane is covered in sweat, and saliva, and come. He calls Shane disgusting and beautiful in the same breath and leaves Shane in the showers to wash himself. Sometimes he tells Shane sweetly, you can jerk off if you want, I'll help. Sometimes he sneers at Shane's erection and tells him you can jerk off if you need to and leaves, or leans against the wall to watch in disgust.
After Ilya, the fantasy shifts a little. He's in a hotel usually, and Ilya sits next to him on the bed, holding Shane's head, petting his hair, touching his neck and chest, whispering in his ear that Shane looks amazing, that he can do better than that, that Shane is nothing but a mouth, the best mouth he's ever had, born to suck cock, cocksucker, keep going. His hands are everywhere on Shane, first kind and then scratching, grabbing, pulling, pinching. Look how much you like it Hollander. He becomes the last man, and Shane can imagine Ilya coming in his mouth, loves it, the taste and weight of him becoming more and more familiar over the years.
Eventually it shifts again, and Shane realizes that Ilya is impossibly all six of the men. It takes him out of it the first time he thinks about it, but the idea of Ilya next to him, pressed against his side, whispering in his ear, and Ilya fisting his hair while he pushes his dick into Shane's sore mouth, and Ilya jerking himself off while he watches Shane taking cock after cock, all at the same time is too hot to resist even if it doesn't make any sense.
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