Page 28 of The Long Game
Ilya took the bottle and got to work. Shane groaned with relief at the first brush of Ilya’s slick finger against his opening.
“Hurry,” Shane said.
“So impatient.”
“Yeah, I’m fucking impatient. It’s been aweek.” He knew, once the summer was over, he’d have to go far longer without sex. But those weeks wouldn’t be full of being close enough to Ilya to smell him. Wouldn’t be full of hearing Ilya’s unguarded laughter when he was playing with kids, or of seeing the way Ilya’s eyes smoldered sometimes when he looked at Shane. When Ilya thought no one would notice. When he couldn’t help it.
Those weeks he wouldn’t be sharing a bed with Ilya, listening to him breathe in the dark, and sometimes hearing him whimper. He wouldn’t be able to press himself against Ilya and kiss the back of his neck and whisper that he loved him. When he thought Ilya wouldn’t notice. When he couldn’t help it.
Those would be different weeks. Right now, Shane needed everything he could get from Ilya.
Ilya took his time, opening him with careful fingers as he watched Shane’s face. He reached his free hand up and caressed Shane’s cheek.
“My beloved,” Ilya murmured, in Russian. “So beautiful.”
Shane let his eyes close for a moment, letting Ilya know he understood. Ilya couldn’t hide behind his native tongue anymore when he wanted to be sweet and soft. It was something Shane had worked for; while Shane’s teammates were playing poker or games on their phones on the plane, Shane was studying Russian.
“Enough,” Shane said, also in Russian. “I’m ready.”
Ilya hummed and continued his slow penetration with two fingers. “I like this,” Ilya said, switching back to English. “Let me watch you a bit longer.”
Shane huffed and clenched around Ilya’s fingers. It wasn’t enough. In frustration, he wrapped his hand around his own rigid cock and stroked.
“Even better,” Ilya said, smiling. “Here.” He hovered the bottle over Shane’s dick and drizzled some lube on him. Because Ilya was full of good ideas.
“Oh shit,” Shane gasped. Ilya started stroking Shane’s prostate in time with the glide of Shane’s hand over his cock. Heat flared low in Shane’s belly, burning up the last of his control. “Ilya. Please.”
Ilya withdrew his fingers. A moment later, Shane felt the head of Ilya’s cock tapping against his hole. “This?” Ilya asked.
Shane didn’t answer. He just shifted his weight and sank down onto Ilya’s slick cock. He went slowly because they didn’t do it this way very often, and because he wanted to draw out Ilya’s delicious groan.
“Shit, Hollander,” Ilya rasped.
God, Shane loved it when Ilya used his last name, the way he’d used to, before. Back when they’d used to fuck but before they were...this.
Shane lifted a bit and sank back down, earning another groan. He grinned at the man he loved and said, “Hold on to something, Rozanov.”
Ilya gripped Shane’s hips, digging his fingers in hard while Shane rode him. It was exciting to watch Ilya like this, sprawled out beneath him, chest heaving as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
“Love your dick,” Shane panted. He had one hand planted on Ilya’s chest, the other gripping the back of Ilya’s left thigh. “Love taking you like this.”
“You just love,” Ilya gritted out, “exercise.”
Shane let out a shaky laugh, adjusted his angle, and rode him harder.
Ilya was falling apart beneath him, murmuring in Russian so garbled Shane couldn’t translate it. He didn’t need to. “You gonna come for me?”
Ilya sucked in a breath. “Too soon. Fuck.”
Shane stopped his ruthless bouncing and switched to a slow grind.
“Ah,” Ilya cried out. “Fucking...fuck!”
Shane smirked, loving the power he held. Loving how much he could make Ilyafeel. Loving what he could reduce him to.
“Too slow?” Shane asked, his voice surprisingly steady considering how close to the edge he was himself.
“Yes,” Ilya said. “No. Fuck, you are perfect.”
