and if ilya ties shane down naked and sucks him off repeatedly for hours and hours, messy and sloppy, spit spilling everywhere, ilya's cock to shane's hairy leg against the bruises sucked over one another along shane's inner thighs, shane's balls so red and worn from ilya switching from a tight grip to an orgasm rattling slap, and shane's big cock is dribbling pathetically against his inner thigh, nothing left to give, and shane's hair is plastered with sweat, bulk drenched in liquid golden hour, glazed over with too much, too much, it's too much ilya, i can't not again, i can't and ilya pets shane's beautiful brown freckles and nipples and hole and says, again, for me. and jerks himself off again across shane's cock, pairs wet pearl to raw gold to hear shane groan like he's been boarded, and then ilya slides down with a smile as shane clocks what ilya's doing and starts up begging again, louder than before, and ilya slots shane's fat cock down his throat in one go because ilya's still hungry and he wants to enjoy the summer fully and completely, in one of his favorite spots.
and if ilya sucks and sucks and kisses and licks and pets and slaps and holds and swallows until finally he smacks his lips and is satisfied, and settles down, kneading shane's quivering body over and over.
and if shane is all slippery and time-softened in ilya's arms, aftershocks spreading earthquakes through his body like ilya's hands in the mantle of the earth of him and ilya kisses the wet soft cloud of shane's ear and inhales the salt of shane's plumbed depths and feels like a god proffered a month-long feast, mighty and majestic and fat on greedy glory, and finally, ilya commends shane's offerings and bites down on shane's neck and shane sighs out in peace and relaxes.
well, what then. what then....