Shane’s on their couch, microfiber cloth in his hands dutifully cleaning his glasses, running the cloth smoothly over each lens methodically as he concentrates on getting rid of all the smudges. Ilya sitting on the opposite end of the couch, phone in his lap, forgotten as he stares at his husband. He doesn’t know what exactly it is about the image before him that’s got him harder than he should be but since all the blood in his body is hurtling towards his dick he doesn’t really have the higher function to examine it too closely. It’s probably something to do with the repeated up and down motion Shane’s making and also the domesticity of it is pushing all of Ilya’s buttons right now.
He’s in the middle of contemplating whether or not he should go over there and lick the lenses just to watch Shane clean them again when Shane looks over at him.
He spreads his legs a little making sure Shane can see how affected he is by this display.
Shane just raises an eyebrow,
“I’m not even doing anything?”
Ilya’s eyes zero in on Shane’s glasses in his huge hands as he replies,
“You’re doing more than enough malysh.”
And now Shane’s got a pretty flush on his cheeks, God, he can’t not fuck him.
He starts to lean over, intent on getting his hands on Shane but as he’s within grabbing distance he’s stopped by Shane’s foot on his chest.
“Not now, let me finish this.” he shoves Ilya back with his foot, unsuccessfully because Ilya grabs the offending foot and holds it to his stomach, raises an eyebrow at Shane.
And now Shane is bright red but he doesn’t try to pull away, he looks like he’s breathing harder than he was a second ago. That combined with the flexing of Shane’s fingers on Ilya’s foot tells him all he needs to know and he smirks.
Shane’s squirming a little now, like he’ll make a move himself if Ilya doesn’t—he won’t really, he’s good, always so good for ilya—He needs to reward him sometime, for all his good behaviour.
Ilya pushes Shane’s foot down his body until it’s resting just above where Ilya’s cock is tenting his sweatpants. And suddenly he doesn’t want to wait anymore, is tired of playing coy he just wants to use Shane to get off, which he knows they’ll both enjoy.
He pushes Shane’s foot into his crotch and grinds up into the bridge of his socked foot, moans openly as Shane stifles a groan
“Shhh, go back to your cleaning sweetheart since it’s so important.”
“No, c’mon please lemme blow you.”
“Nope. Too late,” he hasn’t stopped the roll of his hips into Shane’s foot. “If you want to be helpful you can give me your other foot.”
Shane whines but complies, slowly extending his other leg until his foot bumps with Ilya’s thigh on the couch. He grips the offered foot and brings it up to its mate. Pulls his sweats down over his clothed erection, one less layer between him and Shane. Picks up the pace of his grinding. Uses one hand to hold Shane’s feet in place and keeps the other pressing down on Shane’s leg. Unnecessary of course, Shane won’t move without his say so.
Shane eyes are unfocused as he blinks at Ilya,
“Your glasses, are they clean yet?”
He’s nodding as soon as the question registers,
“Yeah, yeah they’re clean now.” He leans over like he’s going to put them down, Ilya chuckles, as if.
Shane’s attention snaps back to Ilya as he scrambles to get his glasses on his face still careful not to get his fingers on the lenses.
His eyes haven’t left Ilya’s crotch and he’s whispering a litany of please please please.
“Good,” Ilya says, leaving Shane’s feet alone and climbing over his body. “Stay just like that.”
He’s resting over Shane’s chest now, puts one hand on Shane’s chin, holding him. The other rubbing over his cock.
He drags his underwear down letting his dick spring free and sees Shane’s eyes widen, can feel more than hear him whisper please.
He tilts Shane’s chin up as he jerks himself off over his favourite freckles.
Watches the way his eyes never leave Ilya’s cock, he’s practically cross eyed from their proximity.
“Stay just like that.” He repeats.
Then he cums all over Shane and his pretty little glasses.
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