Page 139 of The Long Game
“I can’t believe you fuckingchattedwith him while you werefingering me,” Shane hissed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Wrong withme? I am not the one who fucking loved it.”
“I did not.”
Ilya rubbed his thumb over the head of Shane’s leaking cock, making Shane suck in a breath. “Your cock loved it.”
“My cock loves being touched, not whatever weird shit you’re into. Could you please fuck me now?”
Ilya released him and slid his fingers out of Shane’s ass. Shane flipped onto his back so he could watch him finish undressing. In less than a minute, Ilya was naked and slicking his own cock with lube, so maybe he was in more of a hurry than he’d been letting on.
Shane thought Ilya would haul him to the end of the bed so he could stand while fucking him. Shane loved it that way, with Ilya able to use all of his power and strength and Shane able to watch him and touch him and stroke himself for him.
But instead, Ilya left Shane where he was—relaxed against the pillows—and lowered himself carefully over his body. He kissed him in a slow, adoring way that absolutely annihilated Shane’s brain every time. Then, when Shane was fully reduced to a quivering mass of pure need, Ilya finally entered him.
Shane watched Ilya’s face as he pushed inside. His eyes were wide like the sensation still surprised him, after all these years. Like he hadn’t been expecting Shane to welcome him inside so easily. Like he somehow didn’t know he belonged there.
“I love you so much,” Shane whispered.
Ilya could only nod, his teeth biting hard into his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.
When he started moving, he used slow, deliberate strokes that weren’t enough, but were also too much. Every nerve in Shane’s body was buzzing. Ilya peppered Shane’s face with gentle kisses,his breath dancing across Shane’s skin in ragged puffs. Shane wrapped his legs around Ilya’s back, urging him to go deeper, and faster.
There was more noise from the hallway—more NHL players being drunk and rowdy—and Shane tried to ignore them. Or at least tried not to let their proximity turn him on even more. Because Ilya hadn’t been wrong; there was something hot about doing this surrounded by their peers.
Ilya finally sped up. He grinned at Shane, as if he knew what he’d been thinking about. “What if they could see?” Ilya’s voice was low and quiet and his words made Shane’s cock twitch. “If that wall was a window.”
Shane squeezed his eyes shut, which only helped him to imagine it. “Fuck,” he said.
“They could see how well you take it. How much you love it.”
“Stop,” Shane said weakly, not meaning it at all.
“They would be so jealous of me. Getting to have you like this.”
Shane opened his eyes. “They’d be jealous ofme. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Stroke yourself,” Ilya commanded, then began thrusting harder, snapping his hips and tipping his head back.
Shane loved this moment, when Ilya began to lose control and started to desperately chase his own release. Shane obediently stroked himself, biting his own lip to keep from crying out.
He came first, his release splashing onto his stomach at the exact moment someone in the hallway let out a loud whoop, which was a weird coincidence that Shane, unfortunately, found very hot.
Ilya was laughing, almost hysterically, but he was still thrusting and interrupting his own laughter with frantic grunts until finally, “I’m going to come, Hollander. Fuck.”
Shane wished he hadn’t said his name, but he stopped caring about it immediately because watching Ilya Rozanov’s face when he climaxed was Shane’s favorite thing in the world.
Ilya managed to stop himself from crashing down on top of Shane, and instead carefully pulled out and rolled to his side, breathing heavily.
“That was,” Shane said, “fucking hot.”
Ilya wrinkled his nose. “Ehn. Was okay.”
Shane let out a shaky laugh and lightly punched Ilya’s chest. “Fuck you.”
They took turns getting cleaned up in the bathroom. Shane got back into bed, still naked, as he waited for Ilya. He was thankful they’d managed to keep the sheets relatively clean.
“You are staying,” Ilya said.
