Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Alexei Rozanov | Andrei Rozanov, Except he is now Ilya's son x

Additional Tags:

Age Difference, Cheating, But not between Shane and Ilya, Shane Hollander Has A Vagina, Sexual Tension, Sir Kink, Masturbation in Shower, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Cunnilingus, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Vaginal Sex, Orgasm Denial, Older Man/Younger Man, Guilt, Morally Grey, Size Kink, Ilya Rozanov Has a Big Dick, Shane Hollander Has a Size Kink, Belly Bulge, Creampie

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-04 Words: 12,858 Chapters: 1/1

Never Settle For 'Fine', Hollander

Summary

Ilya is certainly no stranger to having his son’s boyfriend over for the holidays. Shane has visited the Rozanovs plenty of times before, mainly for family celebrations. If Ilya is being honest with himself, Shane isn't really a great match for Andrei. He's not really sure how they've lasted so long. Not because Shane is a bad partner for Andrei, in fact, it's quite the opposite. Ilya thinks Shane could do better.

No one needs to know that Ilya may or may not have fantasised about Shane once or twice before. Only once or twice.

Or:

Ilya Rozanov has a thing for his son's boyfriend, Shane Hollander.

Notes

HELLOOOOOO I AM BACK!

Okay this has lowkey been on my mind for SO LONG I can't stop thinking about it so I finally wrote it. Plus there is a severe LACKKKKKKK of age difference fics ESPECIALLY where Shane has a pussy and I'm not sorry but I need to do my part to contribute to that 🙏🙏

Obviously if Ilya fucking his son's boyfriend is not your thing this is your chance to clock off like a normal person would x

If you're a degenerate like me, keep reading 🤪

This is not beta read we die like men

Ilya is certainly no stranger to having his son’s boyfriend over for the holidays. Shane has visited the Rozanovs plenty of times before, mainly for family celebrations. If Ilya is being honest with himself, Shane isn't really a great match for Andrei. He's not really sure how they've lasted so long. Not because Shane is a bad partner for Andrei, in fact, it's quite the opposite. Ilya thinks Shane could do better. 

No one needs to know that Ilya may or may not have fantasised about Shane once or twice before. Only once or twice. 

He's objectively handsome. Slightly timid at first, but very polite. At forty four, Ilya really should be past that phase of finding younger men attractive, but apparently, he’s not. It doesn't help that every time he catches Shane’s eye, his cheeks tint and he murmurs a quiet greeting before he quickly turns and scurries away. Part of Ilya thinks he might be unintentionally intimidating Shane, but he'd be lying if he said that wasn't part of what makes Shane so… fascinating. 

Admittedly, Ilya doesn't know much about him. Andrei says he plays ice hockey— incredibly well. But other than ice hockey, Ilya doesn't really know what else there is to him. Shane seems relatively boring if he's being honest, but maybe that makes him a little easier to crack open. 

He leans against the kitchen island, vodka in hand, as he watches the rain pour down the large windows. The grandfather clock ticks, then chimes, signalling the next hour. Deep in his thoughts, Ilya almost misses the footsteps behind him. 

“Oh, hi.” Ilya whips his head around at that soft voice, and sees Shane, standing by the kitchen doorway. “Sorry sir, I umm… I just came for some water but…” Ilya is already moving, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with filtered water from the fridge. In the two years Andrei has been with Shane, he's always called him sir. Not that Ilya has a problem with it. It actually is the opposite of a problem - Ilya can't stop the flashing image of Shane on his knees and blindfolded when he calls him that. It's an invasive, completely inappropriate thought to have about someone who is not only less than half your age, but also your son’s boyfriend. So Ilya tries his best not to acknowledge the thought. Ilya wonders if they've known each other long enough to be on a first name basis. 

“Ilya.” He says, coming around the kitchen island, vodka in one hand and water in the other for Shane. “We’ve known each other long enough that you can call me Ilya.” He watches as heat fills Shane’s cheeks and he murmurs his thanks. Before Shane gets a chance to slip away, Ilya keeps talking. “What has you awake at this hour?” He asks, sipping at his vodka. 

Shane glances up at him. This is probably the first time he's ever been this close to Andrei’s father. He swallows thickly, eyes roaming his face and body before landing on his collarbones, exposed by the open collar of his dress shirt. 

Shane really tries not to focus on the curls that fall in Ilya’s face, or the mole on his cheek, or his perfectly pronounced philtrum, but it proves to be quite difficult when Ilya won't stop looking at him, either.  “Just can't really sleep.” Shane murmurs, sipping at his water. “Insomnia. Or maybe my body just hates me.” Ilya’s lip quirks up into a smile and pulls out a bar stool, gesturing for Shane to take a seat. 

“Well, that makes two of us.” Ilya empties his vodka and fills it again. “Is Andrei asleep?” Shane nods. 

“He could sleep through an earthquake.” Muses Shane. “I go for my morning runs alone because he never wakes up.” Ilya cocks  brow. 

“What time do you usually go for your run?” 

“Ten. After many unsuccessful attempts at getting Andrei up.” Ilya’s nose crinkles at the mention of Andrei. He should really be more supportive and considerate towards his boyfriend, otherwise he might find someone else will come in and treat him better. 

“I'll meet you downstairs in the morning to run with you. If you'd like.” Ilya offers and he doesn't miss the flicker of something in Shane’s eyes. 

Shane thinks for a moment and weighs out his options. On the one hand, it would be nice to have company. It would be nice to have someone who knows the area better than he does to come with him. On the other hand… Ilya still scares him a little. Though he's definitely less intimidating now than he was about ten minutes ago. 

“Yeah.” Shane says, almost a little bit too quickly and too enthusiastically. “Yeah, I'd like that.” Ilya smiles. 

“You usually run around the property? Don't want to make use of the fitness suite?” Shane shakes his head. 

“I’m used to running outdoors since it's part of my training for hockey. So I just run around the perimeter of the gardens. I haven't really ventured out past the property border since I'm not familiar with the woodland.” Ilya hums. 

“Tomorrow I'll take you on a new route through the woodland. Leads to the town.” Shane gives him a smile. 

“Sounds good. I've never been to the town before.” 

“Andrei’s never taken you?” Shane shakes his head. 

“I asked once to go but he said it's a long walk and he didn't want to drive.” Ilya frowns again. 

“Next time you want to go somewhere, ask me and I will take you.” Ilya says, and Shane can't help but notice the slight irritation in his voice— for a second, Shane wonders whether that's reserved for him or for Andrei. Regardless, Ilya’s thick Russian accent and low tone sends a shiver down his spine. “I will have to talk to him about treating you better. Nowhere is too much effort for you.” Ilya gives Shane this smile that makes his heart skip a beat. 

“Thank you for the offer.” Shane says. “But… I swear, Andrei treats me just fine.” Shane isn't sure if he's trying to convince Ilya or himself, to be honest. Sure, Andrei is far from a bad boyfriend. He just seems to do the bare minimum. 

“Fine isn't good enough, Hollander. Never settle for ‘fine’.” Shane feels his heart jump with the sharpness in Ilya’s voice. He'd be lying if he said that Ilya’s sharp and firm tone and his handsome looks weren't alluring. “I should have raised him better than that.”

“I promise, he treats me well, sir.” Shane murmurs, sipping his water. Ilya doesn't chastise him for still calling him sir - after all, he's still calling him Hollander. Ilya studies him for a second, and Shane can feel his gaze burning into his skin. 

“I hope he does.” Ilya finishes off his vodka, then stands up. “You can leave your glass out for Cynthia to clear in the morning.” Shane nods timidly. “Goodnight, Hollander. See you in the morning.” 

“Goodnight, sir. And… thank you for the company.” 

Shane watches as Ilya leaves the kitchen and turns a corner. He decides to wait a few minutes before heading back upstairs, to give himself a moment to take a breath and calm down. He's never realised before that being in Ilya’s company for a prolonged amount of time would result in a racing heart, sweating palms, and… wet heat between his thighs. 

Fuck. 

There's something so intimidating about Andrei’s father, but whatever it is that's intimidating about him, clearly Shane’s body likes it. He has no idea how he's going to survive this run with Ilya in the morning, and he definitely feels a bit stupid for agreeing to it. But it's just a run, what’s the worst that could happen? 

Shane wonders how Ilya usually dresses for a run. He's never seen him in anything that isn't a suit, whether that's the full suit, or stripped down to a dress shirt and trousers. Surely he can't be running in that. 

After taking a moment to compose himself, Shane heads back upstairs. He debates between heading back to Andrei’s room, or heading back to his room in the guest wing. Eventually, he settles on heading back to Andrei’s room. Maybe it'll absolve him of the guilt of finding his father horrendously attractive.

*** 

The next morning, Shane anxiously waits downstairs for Ilya to come down. He wonders if he's forgotten, or if he wasn't really being serious. It feels like his blood is running cold, hands constantly shaking, lungs shivering with each breath, and he hasn't even started running yet. He paces around the hallway, but at ten o'clock sharp, Ilya comes down the stairs. Shane almost chokes. 

“Good morning, sir.” Shane says softly, swallowing thickly as he eyes the older man coming down the stairs. Fucks sake. He's come downstairs in a nice pair of shorts that show off his toned thighs and legs, and a tight running t-shirt that stretches over his pecs and abdomen. Shane on the other hand, is in his usual cropped hoodie and sweatpants. 

“Good morning, Hollander.” The way his name rolls off Ilya's tongue is nothing short of seductive. If he weren't Andrei’s father, Shane would be certain he's doing it on purpose. “You set the pace, I follow.” Shane nods, and with that, they head out the door. 

*** 

Ilya is a strong runner, Shane realises. He's got good form and good technique, and so far, good endurance. He wonders if Ilya used to play a sport or something like that when he was younger. 

They run almost in silence, but strangely enough, Shane doesn't feel uncomfortable with it. Instead, it's a pleasant kind of quiet. The woodland makes all kinds of comforting noises - birds tweeting, animals scurrying and insects chirping, all of which keeps them company on their run. 

Ilya’s thigh muscles are so toned and thick, Shane finds himself stealing a glance at them whenever he can. His arms are just as toned - Shane never realised just how physically fit Ilya is. He wonders where he finds the time to keep on top of it, as well as running all his businesses. 

“This is the town centre.” Ilya says when they come to a stop in the small town. “Boston is about an hour from here. There are some nice cafes and diners, nothing much, but if you get bored, now you know how to get here.” Shane takes in the sight of the small American town around him. Quaint and calm, and so different from Montreal. “Or if you don't want to run here, I'll drive you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Shane says as they take a seat on a bench. There's a moment of silence before Shane speaks again. “You have good form for running.” 

“I also used to play hockey.” Ilya says, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long gulp. “I played in college when I first came to the states. A long time ago. Before marrying Svetlana and before Andrei was born.” 

“Andrei never mentioned it.” Ilya offers the bottle to him, and he stops for a second. Yeah, sure. He has his own water. But Ilya is offering out his, so he takes it. Their fingers brush, and there's a split second of panic running through his mind at the feel of Ilya’s soft fingertips. Taking a breath, Shane brings the bottle to his lips, trying hard not to think about how Ilya just drank from the very same bottle mouth. “Why did you stop playing?” Ilya shrugs. 

“Life just got in the way. I couldn't prioritise it after graduating.” Ilya says. “Svetlana wanted to get married as soon as practical and settle down. I would have liked to keep playing for longer but…” Ilya sighs, and Shane watches as the gears turn in his head. “It is what it is.” 

“I'm sorry that you never got to keep playing.” Shane hands the water bottle back to him. Ilya steps closer. He steps well into Shane’s personal space, and Shane freezes. The rational part of him tells him to step back, he's too close for comfort, and he shouldn't be standing that close. But for some reason, Shane stays put. If anything, he leans in. Ilya reaches out  hand and brushes a lock of hair, matted with sweat, out of Shane's face. The pad of his thumb brushes over his freckles, and Shane lets out a shaky breath, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. 

“Do not settle for ‘fine’, Hollander.” Ilya reiterates. “Do not settle for ‘good enough’. If you settle now, it will ruin your plans for later.” Ilya’s eyes are transfixed on the man in front of him, entranced by the way Shane's cheeks fill with colour, highlighting his freckles. 

“Yes sir.” Shane whispers. Fuck, Ilya has to shut his next thought down before it travels too far down south. When Ilya pulls away, Shane finds that he misses the warmth of his hand. 

“Let's head back.” 

***

When they make it back to the Rozanov estate, Shane heads back up to Andrei’s room, only to find him occupying the shower. 

“I'm back.” He shouts, though he's not sure Andrei can even hear him. He waits for a few seconds, then calls again. “Andrei?” There's no response again. Shane supposes the loud singing on top of the falling water does not help. With a sigh, he decides to head back down for some water while he waits for Andrei to finish up. Of course, he could just use one of the other bathrooms, but… it feels weird. Invasive almost. Especially uninvited. So he'd rather just wait. 

As he's waiting and sipping on his water, Ilya comes back downstairs, fresh out of the shower, topless and towel drying his hair. Shane feels his throat go dry. Fuck. It was one thing to see him in a tight fitting t-shirt, and another to see him completely topless. He's muscular and toned, the deep V of his hips disappearing into casual dress pants. And the way his hair falls in his face when it's wet… Shane feels himself getting wet. This pit of guilt opens up in his stomach - he's in a committed relationship. He shouldn't be getting wet for anyone, especially not for his boyfriend’s father of all people. What the hell is wrong with him? 

“Andrei is in the shower?” Ilya asks. Shane nods, almost missing his question. 

“Yeah. It'll be at least another forty minutes before he gets out.” He chuckles sheepishly, half joking, but simultaneously serious about how long Andrei takes. 

“You are more than welcome to use the master bathroom.” Ilya offers. 

“Oh— it's okay, I umm… I could use the shower in the guest wing but I like to use Andrei’s body wash, so…” Shane’s words dissipate as Ilya lets out an amused huff. 

“You will like mine more.” Ilya says with a coy smile. “I will take you up.” 

And well, Shane feels like he can't say no. 

Not that he really wants to. 

Against his better judgement, Shane follows Ilya out of the kitchen, down the halls, and up the staircase. 

***

Warm water tumbles down Shane’s skin. Ilya’s bathroom is definitely more spacious than Andrei’s, and Andrei already has a bathroom bigger than Shane’s whole bedroom back home. He lets out a trembling sigh, letting the water drench his skin and hair. Andrei’s father has always been this… stoic, well spoken, courteous man. Now, Shane would add “charismatic” to the list. He'd even go as far as to say he's a bit flirtatious. Maybe it's a Russian thing rather than an Ilya thing. 

He can hear Ilya in his study opposite the master bedroom, likely working. He runs multiple businesses, as far as Shane is aware, though, what kind of businesses they are he isn't sure. Andrei has mentioned a tech company before. 

God. He's spent more time thinking about Ilya than he has thinking about Andrei these last few days. His heart thunders in his chest. Shane keeps telling himself it's wrong to be lusting after Andrei’s father. Maybe it's because of a lack of attention from Andrei himself. Maybe he's just projecting. 

Shane glances around the shower, eyes landing on the shelf lined to the brim with Ilya’s shower products. He picks up a large bottle - Kerastase, the brand label reads. Definitely expensive. He squeezes a generous amount onto his hands and lathers into his hair. As soon as it begins to lather, the scent of ginger and cedarwood fills his nose. 

The body wash is from a different brand, but no doubt, just as luxury. Ilya was kind enough to leave him a fresh loofah, so Shane squeezes another generous amount onto the net sponge and begins to scrub the sweat and grime from his skin. And Ilya is right. He does like it more than Andrei’s shower gel. There's notes of grapefruit and bergamot, which, now that Shane is actually using the shower gel, he can pinpoint why Ilya smells as nice as he does. 

Shane’s fingertips brush his clit as he cleans, pulling a startled noise from his chest, the sensitive nub pulsing under his touch. He reaches between his thighs and drags a finger through the soft lips of his cunt. When he pulls back, a string of slick connects his fingers to his pussy. He lets out a groan, unable to resist dragging his fingers back over his clit. 

He sinks down to the shower bench and spreads his thighs. Water falls down his skin, drowning out his soft noises as he plays with his clit and plunges two fingers into his aching cunt. 

“Ha-ahh…” Shane digs his teeth into his lip, baring down as he crooks his digits, the heel of his palm pressed against his clit. He feels himself throbbing around his fingers, the slide warm and wet— definitely wetter than he's been in a long while. He bucks his hips, spreading and scissoring his fingers as he grinds his clit against the heel of his palm. 

“Fuck, f-fuck… sir…” it slips out, just as a breathy gasp. Shane can barely stop Ilya’s name from falling from his lips. He clenches around his digits, fucking them in and out, slick coating his fingers and dripping down his crease. 

Shane can feel himself getting close. He slides a third finger into his pussy, gasping at the added stretch. His pussy flutters around the fullness, his clit throbbing and desperate as he fucks his hole over and over, faster and faster, desperately trying to hold back the name on his lips. There's an intense heat pooling in his belly as rocks against his hand, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck, Ilya—!” Shane cuts himself off, clamping a hand over his mouth as his whole body trembles with his orgasm. His pussy is clenched tight around his fingers, fluid gushing from his hole. His eyes roll to the back of his head, breaths heavy and laboured, and it takes him a minute to come down from his orgasm. 

Shane pulls his fingers free with a soft whimper, his clit sensitive and cunt red and swollen. Shame crashes over his body as he sits on the shower bench, thighs trembling with the remnants of his orgasm as he reflects on whose name was just on his tongue when he came. Because it certainly wasn't Andrei’s. 

With guilt eating away at his stomach, he finishes off in the shower. 

*** 

Ilya should be working. There's a stack of paperwork on his study desk, but instead of looking at it, he's thinking about Shane. He sits back in his leather office chair, sighing softly as he thinks about the man currently occupying his shower, using his luxury shower products. 

It's actually insane to be thinking about his son’s boyfriend like this. But god, Ilya can't help how he invades his mind. Especially after this morning. There's just something so alluring about him. And yeah, he has a wife who’s currently away on business, and a son just a few hallways down. It's a bad idea. A terrible idea, even. But Ilya can't help the flirty passes and touches that go on between them, mostly initiated by himself. 

With a sigh, Ilya stands up from his office chair and heads back to the master bedroom, hoping to catch Shane before he legs it out of his bathroom. He closes the door to the study and crosses the hallway into the large master bedroom, opening the door. He can still hear the shower going, water falling and hitting tile. But he can also hear something else. It sounds like Shane’s voice. 

Curious, Ilya ventures closer to the bathroom door. 

“Fuck, f-fuck… sir…” Oh shit. Ilya feels his cock immediately thicken. He's completely silent as he listens to Shane’s moans. He imagines him face down in the sheets, gripping the pillow under his head as Ilya has his way with him. 

For a moment, Ilya’s brain short circuits. The ‘sir’ Shane moans for surely can only be one person. 

“Fuck, fuck, oh god, fuck, Ilya—!” Ilya’s throat goes completely dry, his cock pulsing in his slacks as Shane’s moans trail off into soft breaths that are drowned out by the shower. He is so fucked. 

*** 

When Shane comes out of the master bathroom just minutes later, loose sweatpants hanging from his hips, the colour completely drains from his face when he sees Ilya leaning against the wall beside the bathroom. He feels his heart drop to his stomach. How much did he hear? Did he hear anything? 

“The chef is preparing lunch.” Ilya says, without a hint of anything in his voice to suggest he could hear what Shane was up to in the shower. “You are more than welcome to join us.” His gaze flickers from Ilya’s face to his groin. He doesn’t miss the way the front of Ilya’s slacks tent. His whole body feels numb, chills running down his spine as he tries to keep his eyes on Ilya’s face. His handsome, sharp face. 

“Yes sir. Thank you.” It comes out as barely a whisper, his voice cracking. Ilya nods, satisfied, and turns to leave. 

“Hollander?” 

“Yes?” 

“Now you know where to find me when you need me.” Fuck. What the fuck does that mean? That’s so cryptic. His voice is so suave, rumbling straight through Shane’s body. Heat rises from his chest and floods his cheeks, breath catching in his throat as his heart races a million miles a minute. He stares for what feels like hours at Ilya. Shane stands there, frozen in the master bedroom, watching as Ilya leaves the room.

What the fuck does Ilya mean by that?

Shane has another internal panic when he puts the pieces together. “Now you know where to find me,” Shane is standing on Ilya’s bedroom floor after using his shower, “when you need me.” Oh. Fuck. Ilya definitely heard him in the shower. 

***

Ilya expects to see Shane at the kitchen island for lunch, but when Andrei comes down, his boyfriend is nowhere in sight. Ilya frowns. 

“Shane is not joining us?” Ilya asks. 

“He's studying in the library.” Andrei says. “Finals week is right after spring break, so…” Andrei shrugs, missing the way his father's brow creases.

Ilya waits patiently, hoping Shane might make an appearance before they finish their lunch. He keeps an eye on the doorway, watching for any movement, but Shane never appears. He can't help but wonder if Shane is avoiding him after their encounter in the master bedroom a little while ago. Perhaps he has been too forward. He glances over at his son, who pays him no mind as he polishes off his salad. But for some reason, Ilya feels no guilt, no shame for the way he lusts for his own son’s lover. 

As soon as the chef has cleared their plates, Ilya stands from the kitchen island, his bar stool scraping against the marble tile floors, the sound of it echoing through the kitchen. 

“You should study as hard as Shane does, Andrushya.” Ilya says. “Your mother will be disappointed if your grades do not meet her standards.” He cards a hand through Andrei’s hair as he walks past him. 

“I know.” 

Ilya ascends the staircase and makes his way to the home library. Truthfully, the library gets little to no use. Purely aesthetic purposes. Well, until Shane started coming over. Now, he is the sole user of the library, and despite how infrequent Shane’s visits are, Ilya still has the house cleaners dust the library weekly for whenever he next visits. 

The door is ajar when Ilya reaches the library. Slowly, he pushes the door open and from the doorway, spots Shane sitting at the desk by the stained glass corner window. He leans against the doorframe for a few moments before making his presence known. 

“Andrei said you'd be in here.” Ilya watches as Shane almost jumps out of his skin. Shane turns his head and when Ilya notices the rectangular frames on his face, he feels his cock twitch. He pushes off the doorframe and stalks over to the table Shane occupies with his laptop and stationary. “You skipped lunch.” Ilya says, pulling out the leather chaise and taking a seat. 

“Sorry, sir.” Shane murmurs. “I umm… I haven't…” Shane struggles to get his words out as Ilya eyes him up and down, taking in every detail. “I haven't had the chance to catch up on my work… so…” 

“You are not avoiding me?” Ilya asks, getting straight to the point. The fluster on Shane’s face and the way he stumbles over his words, caught off guard, gives Ilya his answer. 

“What? No, no sir, I'm not—” Ilya leans forward, elbows braced on his thighs, face just inches from Shane’s. Shane swallows thickly as Ilya reaches out one hand and hooks his fingers under Shane's chin to keep him looking. The way ‘sir’ tumbles from Shane’s lips, a mere whisper, coupled with the glasses on his face has Ilya’s cock threatening to rise. 

“It's audacious of you to lie to me after fucking yourself in my shower and moaning my name.” Ilya watches the way Shane’s bottom lip quivers.

Ilya’s fingertips feel warm and grounding under Shane’s chin. His eyes are sharp, the blue accentuated by the light coming through the stained glass windows. Fuck. Shane already knows that Ilya had heard him, but to have verbal confirmation that Ilya definitely knows what he was up to makes his mind race. Shane can't stop his heart from pounding, blood rushing in his ears. He feels lightheaded with how fast his heart pounds, his breaths laboured and heavy as Ilya’s thumb caresses just under his bottom lip.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Ilya’s face is so close to his. His aura is so intimidating, and if Shane weren't already sat down, he'd have completely crumbled. He feels his cunt pulse under his sweatpants, Ilya’s voice smooth and low and his tone dripping with honey-sweetness. 

“S-sir…” that's all Shane can let out. His mind is wracked with guilt, but his body can't seem to agree with him, as he feels his clit twitch and his folds grow wet. Whatever it is that Ilya’s touch and his words are doing to his body very nearly drowns out the guilt. Nearly. 

“You’re very pretty, Hollander. Especially when you call me ‘sir’.” Ilya compliments, caressing his face. “You’d look prettier in my lap.” How those words roll so smoothly off Ilya’s tongue, he does not know. He flirts so easily. In fact, this has gone way beyond flirting, and Shane hadn't even realised until this moment. What he does know though, is that his boyfriend is in his room, just a few hallways and doorways away. 

“We c-can't…” Shane utters. “Andrei, he—” Shane lets out a trembling breath, but he doesn't pull away from Ilya’s touch. 

“Never settle for ‘fine’, Hollander.” Ilya reiterates, his hand moving to cup Shane’s cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing his freckles. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Ilya pulls his hand back. Shane immediately misses his touch. 

Without another word, Ilya stands and leaves the library. 

Shane can't even type without his hands trembling.

*** 

Shane buries the library incident deep in the foyer of his mind. He lays beside Andrei, Andrei’s arm slung over his waist. 

“You smell like my father.” It’s taken Andrei all day to notice Shane used his father’s shampoo. Shane lets out a cough to cover the startled gasp gets caught in his throat. 

“He umm… he let me use his shower when we got back from our run.” Shane murmurs. “You were in the shower when we got back.” 

“You went for a run with my father?” Andrei questions. Shane shrugs. 

“He offered to come with me and take me through the woodland.” Andrei lets out some sort of grumble. Shane can't quite put his finger on the tone of it. 

“He didn't mention that at lunch.” Andrei murmurs. Shane opts not to respond. There isn't really much to say either - it's not as if Andrei would have come if he knew Ilya was going with him instead. 

Eventually, Andrei falls asleep beside him, but Shane lays awake, his mind reeling and racing. When he looks at Andrei beside him, Shane feels that same rush of guilt coming back to him. But then he thinks about how Andrei never comes running with him. Barely pretends to care for his interests. Didn't even notice he smelt different today until they got in bed. 

“Never settle for ‘fine’, Hollander.” 

Maybe once won't hurt. 

*** 

Ilya sits up in the middle of the king sized bed, topless and propped up on some pillows. The bedside lamp is the only light that illuminates his room as he sits with his book open in his hands though, he's not even really reading it. He reads the same line over and over, and every time he tries to advance, his mind drifts. 

Drifts to Shane.

There's a knock on his door. Ilya checks the time - it's close to two in the morning. Only one person could be knocking at this time. 

“Come in.” There's a pause, and then the door opens. Ilya can't stop the flood of relief that rushes through him when he sees Shane in loose sweats and a baggy top standing in his doorway. He folds his book closed and replaces it on the night stand. “Come here.” He beckons him over and watches as the gears in Shane’s head turn. After a brief hesitation, Shane comes over. He climbs onto the bed, letting out a shaky exhale as Ilya pulls him into his lap. “Changed your mind?” Ilya asks, his hand sliding under Shane’s top and caressing the small of his back. Shane nods timidly. 

“Tell me what you want.” Ilya asks, his cock already hard in his pyjama bottoms as Shane shuffles further into his lap. 

“I don't know, sir.” Ilya digs his teeth into his lip and holds back a noise at the way Shane’s words rumble through his body and straight to his cock. 

Shane can feel the heat burning from his chest all the way up to his cheeks. He can feel Ilya’s erection between them, but he resists the urge to rock his hips and feel his girth pressed against his clothed cunt. God, he can't believe he's doing this. His hands tremble as he lets out a soft breath, trying to compose himself and clear his head and just not think. Ilya’s hands continue to run up and down his back, grounding him completely as his mind wracks. 

“What were you thinking about in the shower?” Ilya asks, lips brushing the shell of his ear. Shane startles in his lap. He can feel his pussy twitch already, hole pulsing and clit begging for attention. Fuck, Ilya’s words make him so wet and he has barely said anything. 

“You.” Shane murmurs under his breath. 

“Tell me more.” Shane sucks in a breath. 

“Was thinking about how you smell.” Shane feels Ilya’s cock twitch under him. “And… and I couldn't stop thinking about how flirty you are.” The corner of Ilya’s lip turns up into a soft smile at that. Yeah, he has definitely been as subtly flirty as possible. “And how you intimidate me a little but…” 

“But you like that.” Shane nods. 

Ilya brings a hand up to his face and brushes a lock of hair away. Shane looks so beautiful like this, the blush on his face highlights his freckles. He looks ethereal under the light of the bedside lamp. Ilya doesn't miss the slight jerk of Shane’s hips, followed by the breathy noise that escapes his lips. 

“Sir…” 

“Tell me what you want, Hollander.” Ilya says again. This time, Shane has an answer. 

“Whatever you'll give me.” Shane's heart thunders in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his whole body. As he sits in Ilya's lap, that feeling of all-consuming guilt dissipates. 

Without another word, Ilya turns them over, pushing Shane back against the mattress. Shane lets himself be manipulated like a marionette into whatever position Ilya wants him in. Ilya's hands slide into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

“Okay?” Shane nods, digging his teeth into his lip. He holds his breath as Ilya slides his sweatpants down his thighs. 

Ilya feels his cock pulse. He reaches a hand into his pyjama pants and squeezes his cock, letting out a soft, low noise. He spreads Shane’s thighs further apart, revealing his plush pussy. It's already red and glistening with slick, and Ilya just catches the way it clenches around nothing under his watchful eye. 

“So desperate already.” Ilya murmurs observantly, his thumb reaching out to gently caress his clit. Shane lets out a soft whimper, bucking his hips. Ilya shuffles down the bed, settling between Shane's thighs. He presses his nose to the neat patch of hair that frames his pussy. Cautiously, he leans in to kiss Shane’s clit. 

“Sir—!” Shane gasps, his hand reaching down to bury in Ilya’s blond curls. “Oh, that…” 

“You like it?” Ilya asks, kissing his clit again. 

“Keep going… please…” Shane asks so nicely, it's hard to say no. So Ilya keeps going. He drags the tip of his tongue through his soaked slit, from the base right up to his clit, revelling in the way Shane mewls and rocks his hips. Shane clamps a hand over his mouth to quiet his moans, but Ilya reaches up and grasps his wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth. 

“I want to hear you.” Ilya murmurs, dipping his tongue into his pussy. 

“Fuck!” Shane gasps, digging his heels into the mattress. “B-but… ahh…” 

“He won't hear you.” Ilya reassures, lapping at his pussy. “It's okay.” Ilya kisses the inside of his thigh, up and down the side of his pussy to give him a chance to calm down. Shane lets out another shaky breath and tries to relax under Ilya’s warm touch - his hands feel so good gripping his thighs, and his tongue feels so soft and warm. Fuck. He's so much better than Andrei. 

When Ilya feels like Shane has relaxed a little bit, he carries on and picks up the pace. He kisses his pussy, tongue lapping at his hole as he lets out a lewd moan, grinding his hips against the mattress to take some of the edge off. Shane pulls and tugs at his hair, moan after moan tumbling from his lips. Ilya can tell that he's still holding back his noises, but he lets it slide. 

Gently, Ilya takes Shane’s clit between his lips and sucks hard, tearing a loud noise from Shane's throat. Shane holds his head in place against his cunt, grinding down on his face as Ilya kisses and sucks his clit over and over. 

“S-sir, sir, fuck, please…” Shane pleads, breathless and panting as Ilya fucks his tongue in and out of his hole. Ilya purrs against his hole. Fuck, the way he calls him sir makes his cock throb every single time. He wonders how tight and warm Shane’s cunt will be around him - hopefully, he’ll find out soon. 

Pulling away slightly, Ilya pushes two fingers into his hole. It punches the breath from Shane’s lungs as he clamps around the intrusion, unable to stop his hips from rocking. Ilya curls his fingers, seeking out that spot that will make Shane crumble. He grinds the heel of his palm against his clit, simultaneously feeling around with the pads of his fingers. 

He knows he finds it when Shane sobs and rushes to grab Ilya’s wrist, holding him in place. “Fuck! Ahh… ah, s-sir…” 

“There?” Ilya crooks his fingers into the same spot, feeling the way Shane’s hole tightens around him, fluttering as slick dribbles down his wrist. Shane nods, unable to get any words out. He throws his head back on Ilya’s pillow, his hands gripping the sheets under him. 

Ilya brings his tongue back, flicking at his clit over and over as he fingers him. Tears pool on Shane’s lash line, clinging to the tips of his eyelashes as he finally lets himself relax into Ilya’s touch. Ilya’s tongue feels heavenly on his clit, and coupled with his skilled fingers, he has Shane pleading and begging for more. Shane’s pussy is shamefully loud as the wet squelch of slick drooling around Ilya’s fingers fills the air around them. 

“S-sir… please… ah, please… c-close…” Shane feels that familiar warmth begin to pool in his pussy. Each thrust of Ilya’s fingers and each pass of his tongue pushes him closer and closer, setting his nerves alight. “Sir, sir, sir—!” Shane clamps a hand over his mouth, his whole body tensing as he comes. 

Ilya moans against his cunt. Each thrust of his fingers coaxed more and more fluid as Shane squirts around his digits, soaking his hand and wrist and face. He flicks his tongue, and even as Shane pleads for a break, oversensitive and overstimulated, Ilya continues. He's ruthless, relentless, eager to coax another orgasm from the younger man. Shane feels completely out of control of his whole body, and all he can do is gasp and pant and mewl as Ilya has his way. 

Ilya manages to make him come a second time, and this time, he finally relents. Shane trembles, completely oversensitive as Ilya withdraws his fingers and pulls away. He trembles on the sheets, each breath raspy as his chest puffs out, as if he can't get enough air. Ilya kisses his clit and Shane immediately jerks his hips, whimpering as his thighs clamp around Ilya’s head. 

Strong hands caress his thighs. Ilya is patient as he waits for Shane to come back to him. His cock hurts, aching and desperate for release, but Ilya continues to ignore it in favour of tending to Shane’s needs. 

“Okay?” Shane nods. He can barely speak. He's sweaty and red, his hair matted to his head, skin glistening with perspiration. “You are so pretty when you come.” Ilya says, kissing the inside of his thigh. Fuck. It's been so long since Shane has come that hard. Half the time, Andrei doesn't even make him come. He keeps that information to himself, however, fearing that if Ilya knew, he'd keep making him come over and over just to make up for it, and Shane would never catch a break. 

“You're still hard.” Shane rasps. His pussy feels so raw, the ache bone deep, but it feels so good to be thoroughly used like that. He can feel his hole gape and clench, can feel his clit twitch. If he weren't so sensitive, he'd have let Ilya keep going. 

“Don't worry about me.” Shane notices that when Ilya is aroused, his accent becomes more pronounced. That detail definitely makes his pussy dribble. Shane doesn't answer him. Instead, he sits up on shaky knees and slides off the bed to kneel on the floor. He doesn't say anything, just parts his lips and encourages Ilya to shift to the edge of the bed. 

When Ilya sees him like this, kneeling on the floor, eyes pleading and plush lips parted, his composure dissolves. With one hand on his cock, he guides the tip of his cock to Shane’s lips. 

“You're sure?” In lieu of answering, Shane wraps his lips around the head of his cock and suckles. The moan Ilya lets out is divine. He throws his head back, exposing the thick column of his neck and his Adam's apple. Shane moans, sucking and licking at the tip. Ilya rolls his hips, gently pushing more of his length into his mouth 

Shane sinks down a little further. His mouth is already so full, yet half of Ilya's length is still yet to breach him. His eyes flutter shut, and he has to stop for a second, pulling off to take a breath. His warm breath ghosts over the head of Ilya’s cock, enticing a droplet of precome to head at the tip. Once he's caught his breath, he sinks back down again. He moans around his cock, impressed by the way Ilya’s girth fills his mouth. 

Fuck, he's so big. Even just the tip stretches his lips. As he sinks down further, he feels his jaw begin to ache in the best way. Ilya's cock is heavy in his mouth, and every time he pushes just a little too deep, he has to pull off, panting and gasping and breathless, saliva glistening on Ilya’s tip. 

“Fuck, Hollander…” Ilya’s moans are lascivious, nothing short of sensual. It makes Shane’s cunt twitch again. A hand tangles in his hair, holding him in place as Ilya begins to slowly fuck his mouth. Shane tries to reach a hand between his thighs to play with his clit, but he's still so sensitive, he moans around Ilya’s cock and pulls his hand away. The moan reverberates through Ilya’s cock, right through his body. “Fuck, so pretty…” 

Shane’s eyes flutter shut. He focusses, pulling off slightly. He adjusts his position, then takes more of Ilya’s cock into his mouth. He feels the tip bump his palate, and he has to stop again to breathe through his nose. God, he feels so good. Shane wonders how it would feel in his cunt, if he could even take all of it. It would stretch him out so well, so well it would hurt. Thinking about the way Ilya’s cock would fill him until he's bruised only makes him more eager. 

“Good boy… fuck, Hollander… you feel so warm and tight…” Shane mewls at the praise. His hands grip Ilya’s thighs, patting them as he moans around his cock. It takes Ilya a second to realise what he wants. Ilya stands up, hand in Shane’s hair. Shane adjusts his position again, spreading his knees. He straightens his back, angles his head, and Ilya sinks even deeper. 

“Mmph… hmmm…” Shane moans around his cock, feeling it push deeper, deeper, pushing into his throat. Shane chokes, instinctively pulling off as Ilya caresses his face and patiently waits for Shane to be ready to take him again. 

Every time he pushes a little too deep, Shane can't help but choke and moan. He may be inexperienced, but fuck, he's got natural talent. His throat is so soft, so warm. It massages him so perfectly, and every time Shane chokes it only makes Ilya’s cock twitch harder. 

Eventually, Shane manages to take him down three quarters of the way without choking. Ilya throws his head back, willing himself not to come as Shane’s throat flutters around his cock, squeezing and releasing over and over again. Every so often, Shane pulls back, just a bit, to suck in another lungful of air. 

“Such a talented mouth…” Ilya murmurs. His hand trails from Shane’s hair down his face and down to his neck. Shane preens at the touch, but quickly relaxes again. Ilya pulls out slowly, then pushes back in, feeling Shane's throat thicken as he fucks it. Despite being so desperate to come, he only goes as deep and as quick as Shane allows him to go.

Shane is so, so beautiful like this. From his dark, lustful eyes to his adorable freckles, he looks absolutely stunning with his mouth occupied. Shane is obviously enjoying it too, if the way his hips hump the air is any indication. 

“Faster?” Shane tries to nod, but he struggles with the way Ilya intrudes on his throat. But still, Ilya gets the message. He picks up his pace a little bit, pulling out again and pushing back in. Ilya picks up his pace, fucking Shane’s throat over and over. Every so often, he has to stop and squeeze his cock to stop himself from coming. Shane pulls off. 

“You can come, if you want.” His voice is completely wrecked, hoarse and gravelly. Fuck, Ilya almost does. 

“I want it to last.” Ilya says. Shane lets out an amused huff. 

“You make it sound like I won't be back.” Shane says, kissing up and down his cock. 

“Will you?” Ilya asks. Shane’s lip turns up into a tired smile. ‘One time won't hurt’, Shane told himself. Maybe two times won't hurt either. 

“I want you to come.” Shane’s face burns with arousal as he sucks Ilya’s cock back down, all the way, coughing around his thick girth as his cock pushes past the back of his mouth and sinks into his throat. Ilya’s hand grips his hair again. He pulls back and snaps his hips. Over and over and over again. Shane almost sobs around his cock, tears pricking his eyes. But he sits and takes it like a good boy. He lets his eyes slide shut, lets himself be used. 

“Fuck, fuck, Hollander… so gorgeous… oh, god, fuck, fuck—” Ilya released a long, drawn out moan, his orgasm crashing through him. He tries to pull out, but only makes it half way before he comes, spilling into Shane’s mouth. Shane whimpers, but he stays still as salty, bitter fluid coats his tongue. Oh god. The taste of Ilya on his tongue makes his pussy throb again. He can feel himself getting wet, strings of slick sticking to his pussy. 

When Ilya’s orgasm dissipates, he releases his grip on Shane’s hair, allowing him to pull all the way off. Shane pants and gasps, swallowing the mouthful of semen, wincing at the taste as warm fluid runs down his throat. Shane falls forwards, breathless, and rests his head on Ilya’s thigh, breath ghosting over his spent cock. Ilya’s hand drops to his hair, scratching his scalp and caressing his hair. 

“You were so good.” Ilya murmurs, petting his hair. “So beautiful, Shane…” Shane whimpers at the use of his first name. It feels too intimate for whatever is going on between them. It feels too personal, and when Ilya says his name, it feels too much like whatever they have might last. Shane knows it can't. It won't. But still, he doesn't say anything. He lets himself enjoy the way his name rolls off Ilya’s tongue. 

*** 

It's close to four a.m when Shane finally climbs back into bed beside Andrei. And the guilt that eats away at him only grows stronger. Because at first, it was just… fantasising. It was just thinking about Ilya while he jerked off. It was just fantasising about the things Ilya would do to him. 

But tonight, he crossed that boundary between fantasising and cheating. But despite the guilt that builds in the pit of his stomach, he still doesn't regret it. Or at least, right now he doesn't regret it. He still thinks he'd go back again. Ilya had paid attention to him - paid attention to his wants and needs, to his interests. Shane felt seen. Ilya gives him attention that Andrei never has. It's just fucked up that he's his father. 

*** 

Ilya sees less and less of Shane as the days go by. He waits every morning for Shane to come downstairs for his morning run, but Shane never makes an appearance. He waits every afternoon for Shane to join them for lunch, but he never joins them. He waits every evening for Shane to knock at his bedroom door, but he never knocks. Now he knows Shane is definitely avoiding him.

He waits for four days before he decides to seek Shane out. 

Ilya is back outside the home library, peering in through the crack in the doorway, watching as Shane studies at the table. Whether he's studying or spiralling, Ilya doesn't know. He's willing to bet on the latter though. He quietly makes his way into the library and closes the door as gently as possible, as not to scare Shane. Shane has his headphones on, so Ilya walks over, stands behind him, and gently tugs them down. Shane gasps, whole body jolting in his seat. 

Shane feels the hair on his neck rise. 

Ilya. 

“You are heading back to college in a few days.” Ilya says. “You are really going to avoid me until then?” He asks, carding a hand through Shane’s hair. He expects Shane to pull away from his touch, or try to stop him, but he doesn't. 

The touch in Shane’s hair startles him, as if Ilya’s touch scalds his skin. He swallows heavily, letting out a shaky breath. Shane’s heavy conscience has sat with him for days. He's been quiet and deep in thought, avoidant and reclused, even Andrei has noticed that he is bothered by something. 

That something happens to be Ilya. 

“That might have been the plan.” Shane whispers. This time, he doesn't lie to Ilya. His heart gallops in his chest, blood pounding in his ears as he feels Ilya’s fingertips scratch at his scalp. 

“Because you regret it?” Ilya asks. Shane isn't sure what to say. He doesn't regret it. He does regret it. It fills him with guilt. It makes him feel alive. He's in two minds about everything. 

“I don't know.” It's the truth, at least, even if it's not much of an answer. “I didn't regret it in the moment.” Shane murmurs, releasing a slow breath. 

“You regret it after the fact.” Ilya infers. 

“I'm still figuring that out.” Shane mumbles.

Ilya contemplates draping his body over Shane’s back and pulling him in, but still, he thinks Shane is a bit too skittish for that at the moment. He's finally beginning to open up after days of avoiding him and Ilya doesn't want to ruin that. So the only touch he grants himself is the hand in his hair, which Shane seems to be tolerating. 

“It won't happen again if you don't want it to.” Ilya assures. “We can forget it happened.” 

“That's not—” Shane cuts himself off, letting out a shaky breath as he tries to string his words together. “Your son is my boyfriend. That doesn't seem a little fucked up to you?” Shane asks, not daring to turn and look at him. “And your wife. We could blow your whole family up.” Shane’s head drops to his hands, leg bouncing up and down anxiously under the desk. “That doesn't make you feel awful?” When Ilya doesn't respond, Shane keeps talking. “I enjoyed your attention. More than I should have. But I think it's best if we just pretend it never happened.” Ilya pulls his hand back, and Shane instantly misses the touch of his fingers carding through his hair. 

“Then we will pretend it never happened. It won't happen again.” That’s all Ilya says before he turns away and leaves the library, closing the door behind him. 

Shane would have sat and sobbed if it weren't for how pathetic and stupid he feels. 

*** 

Shane plans to continue avoiding Ilya. There's only a couple more days until he and Andrei make the drive back to Montreal. But when they get back to college, then what? Shane cheated on him. The honourable thing to do would be to end it with Andrei. But Shane is a coward. Now the guilt that consumes him is back in full force. He can't even justify it with the fact that Ilya made him the centre of his attention, because he doesn't even have that validation going for him anymore. 

Instead, he's just a terrible person who cheated on his boyfriend and slept with his father. 

When Andrei comes to bed later that night, Shane almost pulls away from his touch, curling up right to his side of the bed. 

“Are you okay?” Andrei asks. Shane’s mind rifles through words and sentences trying to find a way to answer his question. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just… stressed.” Not entirely a lie. 

“About finals?” Shane nods. God, when did lying become so easy? In reality, finals week is the least of Shane’s worries. “I'm sure you'll do great. You always do.” Andrei says, carding a hand through Shane’s hair. Every touch makes Shane feel even worse. 

 All Shane can do now is what he agreed with Ilya - to pretend nothing ever happened and never let it happen again. 

Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. 

***

“You make it sound like I won't be back,” that’s what Shane had said to Ilya that night when Ilya said he wanted to make it last. In the heat of the moment, Shane really did intend to come back. But now, it's been almost a week, and tomorrow, Shane and Andrei are heading back up to Montreal.

Despite avoiding Ilya for the last six days, Shane can't stop thinking about him. When they cross paths, they don't talk. They don't even acknowledge each other. They're back to how they were before that night in the kitchen. If it bothers Ilya in any way, he does a very good job at hiding it. Seeing Ilya completely unbothered only makes Shane feel even worse. 

Shane sits in the library, staring out of the stained glass windows. He's been sitting there for so long that the sun has gone down. Dinner has long since passed, the Rozanov mansion has wound down for the night, and he's done nothing but sit in the library all day with his thoughts. He'd be lying if he'd said that he hasn't thought about the night he had with Ilya - how good Ilya makes him feel, how talented he is with his mouth, how nice it felt to have his cock in his mouth. Fuck, Shane can already feel wet heat pooling in his gut. 

And Ilya was so attentive. He took his time, took signals from Shane, he was never pushy or forceful. Shane tries to not compare him to Andrei, but Andrei has never been as attentive as Ilya. If anything, he can be impatient and a little bit too persuasive, even if he's gentle with him. Shane yearns for the kind of attentiveness and care that Ilya offers. Yes, he can acknowledge that it's wrong to want that, specifically from Ilya, and he can acknowledge that he should be ashamed of himself. 

Maybe it makes him a terrible, awful, horrible person, but Shane wants him. He wants Ilya, just one more time. He wants him properly. He wants to be touched so tenderly, he wants to be worked open slow and steady, he wants to feel all of him. He wants to enjoy every second of being in Ilya’s arms. It makes him sick with guilt that he has such a desire. But maybe if he has him fully, just one more time, it'll give him what he needs to truly pretend nothing ever happened. 

Just once more before he leaves. 

*** 

The knock on Ilya’s door takes him by surprise. He hesitates for a moment, glancing over to the bedroom door. It surely wouldn't be Andrei. Which means it can only be one person. Ilya lets out a soft sigh, his breath trembling ever so slightly. 

“Come in.” The door opens and Shane steps in, closing the door behind him. “Can I help you, Hollander?” Ilya asks, closing his book and removing his glasses to place both on the night stand. 

“I—” the words seem to catch in Shane’s throat, but Ilya waits patiently. Shane sucks in a heavy breath. When no words fall from his mouth, Ilya beckons him over. 

“Come here.” Obediently, Shane makes his way over and Ilya pulls him into his lap, just like that night. “Tell me.” 

“I want… I want you.” Shane admits, heat rising to his cheeks. “Just one more time. Then…” 

“Then we can pretend nothing happened.” Shane nods. Ilya’s lip turns up into a smug smile, his hand running up and down Shane’s arm in a possessive, yet comforting way. “And you are sure that one more time will make you forget how good I made you feel?” 

Shane can already feel himself getting wet, his pussy twitching as wetness sticks to his folds. He doesn't want to forget. Far from it. He wants it seared into his body, ingrained in his mind. He wants to feel everything so deeply that he never forgets. He doesn't want to forget. He just wanted to be sated enough that he no longer craves Ilya’s touch. 

“I don't want to forget.” Shane murmurs. “It's the opposite.” His voice is quiet, almost defeated. He doesn't dare look up at Ilya. 

“You want to remember forever. So you never have to come back.” Shane nods. “Then I will make sure you spend the rest of your life thinking of me.” Ilya’s voice, sultry and soft, sends a shudder through Shane’s spine and right through his cunt. He's not sure if that's a threat or a promise. Secretly, he hopes it's both. 

Ilya's hands grasp the hem of Shane’s t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it off the bed. He grasps Shane’s face, cupping his cheek in his hand, and leans in to kiss him. Shane lets out a startled noise, but quickly relaxes. Ilya’s lips are so soft and warm - he tastes a little bit floral, and Shane assumes its from the Chanel lip balm that sits on his bedside table. 

Ilya swipes his tongue over the seam of Shane’s lips and waits for Shane to let him in before slipping his tongue in. Shane regains his lips, tentative hands carding through Ilya's soft curls. Ilya can feel himself already getting hard under him, and evidently, Shane can feel it too, if the way he rocks his hips and grinds against his clothes cock is any indication. Ilya can't hold back the low, lewd moan that rumbles through his throat and against Shane’s lips. 

Shane has to pull away, breathless and panting in Ilya’s lap, a string of saliva connecting their lips for a brief moment before it snaps. Shane’s fingertips trace down Ilya’s sternum, over his pecs, and down his abdomen. Shane brushes the trail of hair that goes from his navel into his pyjamas, causing Ilya to shudder and roll his hips. 

Ilya’s lips brush the pulse point on Shane’s neck. “You want to remember this forever, yes?” Shane nods. Ilya sucks and nibbles and licks at the pulse point on Shane’s neck, ripping a soft gasp from the younger man. Shane’s hand returns to his hair, tangling in his soft curls as Ilya kisses and suckles. It's definitely going to bruise, Shane thinks, but then he realises that that's probably the point. When Ilya pulls away, the spot is red and raw and pulsing. It'll definitely bruise. 

“Now when you play hockey and you feel your heart race and feel your pulse in your neck, you will think of me.” Shane’s fingertips press gently into his pulse and he moans, the spot now tender and sore from Ilya’s ministrations. 

“Sir…” 

“Let me take my time.” Ilya insists. “If this is the last time I will have you then I should make the most of it, no?” Shane can't really argue with that logic. Ilya kisses down his chest and takes Shane’s nipple between his lips, tugging and licking and sucking at the stiffened nub. Shane is pliant in his lap, content to let Ilya do as he pleases. 

Shane can feel his cunt throbbing, and with each suck on his nipple he feels another rush of slick flooding his sweatpants. Ilya has such a way with his mouth. He moans, covering his mouth with a hand at a particularly firm suck. When Ilya pulls away, his nipple is sopping wet, saliva dribbling down his chest, his nipple glistening and pussy. 

“You are so pretty.” Ilya murmurs, hands roaming up Shane’s back. Carefully, Ilya lifts Shane's hips with one hand, sliding his sweatpants down his thighs. He pulls them off all the way, manoeuvring Shane in his lap to get them off. Ilya turns them over, pressing Shane into the mattress. He kneels between Shane’s spread thighs, taking his time to admire his body, toned and lean and ever so stunning. 

Reaching out, Ilya brushes his thumb over Shane’s slick clit. Shane gasps, hips lifting off the bed to chase Ilya’s touch. Ilya can't help but stare. Shane’s pussy is so soft and pink and wet, clenching and gaping around nothing. His thumb gently parts Shane’s plush lips, index finger idly tracing his slit. 

“Okay?” Shane nods. Ilya’s index finger presses in with a lewd, wet squelch.  

“Ahh…” Shane gasps, clamping around the intrusion. 

“You're so soft.” Ilya murmurs, eyes fixated on the way fluid dribbles out around his fingers. Shane opens up so beautifully for him as he slips another finger in, his eyes on Shane’s face to watch for any discomfort. But Shane seems to relax right into his touch, his hips rocking to meet Ilya’s fingers. 

He adds a third finger, scissoring and spreading his fingers to stretch Shane out. Shane lets out the most delightful moans, but Ilya can tell he's holding them back. Slowly, Ilya withdraws his fingers. 

“Why did you stop?” Shane asks, breaths shallow as dark eyes peer down at Ilya. 

“I want to hear you.” Ilya requests. “I want to hear your noises. No holding back.” Shane nods timidly. Satisfied, Ilya’s fingers slide back into his wet cunt. Shane lets out another moan, louder this time as Ilya crooks his fingers, seeking out his sweet spot. 

Ilya takes his time taking Shane apart. He's slow with his fingers, each twist and nudge targeted and precise. Shane can't stop the slurry of moans that tumble from his lips, his pussy soaking Ilya’s hand and his wrist, dribbling down onto the sheets with every thrust. 

“S-sir… sir, please…” Ilya groans, squeezing his cock every time Shane calls him ‘sir'. “I'm c-close…” Ilya picks up his pace, watching every reaction from Shane’s body, and every micro expression on his face. 

Shane can feel himself hurtling towards his first orgasm of the night. His whole body feels tense, his thighs trembling as Ilya edges him closer and closer. “Sir, s-sir—” Ilya pulls his fingers free. Shane lets out a frustrated whine, his cunt pulsing and hips rolling as if to chase the feeling of Ilya’s hand. The orgasm that was building in his stomach suddenly dissipates. “Fuck… fuck, please… why…” Shane can barely get his words out. His head turns to bury in Ilya’s pillow, chest puffing out with each heavy breath. His thighs won't stop shaking, even with Ilya’s hand caressing them. 

“Not yet.” Ilya says, watching as Shane’s pussy flutters, empty and desperate. He continues to caress Shane’s thighs, kissing the inside of his knee and squeezing his hip as he waits for him to calm down. He can't help the smug satisfaction that swells in his chest as Shane tries to catch his breath. 

Shane’s whole body aches with the way Ilya has denied him his orgasm. He can barely think straight as Ilya's tentative fingers return, just grazing his clit. He whimpers and gasps, hips instinctively jerking to meet Ilya’s hand. 

Ilya’s palm runs over the inside of his thigh, gripping toned muscle as he pushes three fingers back into Shane’s swollen cunt. It opens easily for him, lips parting smoothly with a wet noise. Shane lets out a contented moan at the full feeling as Ilya opens him up again, spreading his fingers and twisting his wrist. He nudges Shane’s sweet spot dead on, over and over again. It's amazing how well Ilya already knows his body, knows exactly where to find that one spot that has Shane stumbling over his words and trembling against the sheets. 

“S-sir… ahh… fuck, feels so nice…” Shane’s body glistens with sweat, the glow of the lamp light highlighting the troughs and crests of his muscle.

“Here?” Ilya hooks his fingertips back into Shane’s sweet spot - he asks as if he doesn't know exactly where Shane likes to be touched. 

“Fuck, yeah, yes…” Shane feels himself loosening up, tension leaving his body as Ilya works him open. His moans get louder and more frequent and he's holding them back less. Ilya’s presence and his touch are strangely comforting - the intimidation Shane first felt still simmers in his gut, but when he looks up and sees Ilya, piercing blue eyes focussed on his body, jaw clenched and hands caressing, it's like a warm blanket of comfort and protection encases him. 

“Come on… please…” Shane is already close again. Ilya can tell by the way Shane squirms and rolls his hips and digs his hands into the bedding. 

Ilya edges him again, pushing him closer and closer to the being of an orgasm before pulling his fingers free again, right before Shane comes. Shane lets out a frustrated groan, cunt fluttering and breaths ragged as Ilya pets his cunt and cups his mound. 

“You're cruel.” Shane mumbles hoarsely. 

“And you're beautiful.” The praise runs straight through Shane’s body and to his trembling cunt, a rivulet of slick dripping down the crease of his ass. 

Shane watches through half lidded eyes as Ilya pushes his pyjama bottoms down, exposing his thick cock, hard and red and dripping at the tip. His mouth goes completely dry. It's one thing having Ilya in his mouth, but this time, it's going in his pussy. Despite how intimidating Ilya’s size is, Shane spreads his thighs and exposes his swollen, soft cunt for him, his hole pulsing and eager.

“Fuck, Hollander.” Ilya squeezes his cock, then reaches for the bedside table to grab the lube. Popping the cap open, he squeezes a generous amount and slathers it over his cock. His hands grasp the underside of Shane’s thighs, tugging him closer. Kneeling between his spread thighs, Ilya nudges the tip of his cock against Shane’s clit, eliciting a loud moan from the younger man. His cock teases his opening but never quite pushes in.

“Okay?” 

“Yes, fuck, please, Ilya—” It didn't mean to slip from his tongue, it just came out. Shane’s heart gallops in his chest, a hand clamping over his mouth as he averts his gaze away from Ilya. 

Ilya groans, cock throbbing at the way Shane moans his name - this is the first time Shane has called him by his name instead of sir. It feels strangely intimate, the way it rolls off his tongue as if they're lovers. Leaning forwards, he grasps Shane’s chin, turning his face back towards him. 

“Don't look away.” Shane can barely nod. He mewls as Ilya slowly pushes in, the tip thick and heavy within him. He winces, his hand reaching to grasp Ilya’s arm to get him to pause. 

Ilya immediately stops. 

“Okay?” Shane nods, breathing heavily. 

“Just… need a second.” Ilya caresses his hip and thigh, his touch warm and soothing on Shane’s warm skin. After a few deep breaths, Shane nods. “You can keep going.” Ilya leans down, kisses Shane’s lips, and keeps pushing. 

Shane moans against Ilya’s mouth, kissing him back, arms looped around Ilya’s neck. He can feel each inch carving into him, Ilya’s girth stretching him out. “Good boy… that’s it, doing so well…” Ilya murmurs against Shane’s ear encouragingly. Shane feels the praise run right through his body, his spine tingling and cunt squeezing around Ilya’s cock. He digs his hands into Ilya’s back, a soft, pained noise escaping his lips. Ilya immediately stops. 

“It's okay.” Ilya kisses the shell of his ear. “It's okay. We take our time.” 

“Sorry.” Shane murmurs with a huff. “You're just…” He lets out a soft grumble, clenching around Ilya's cock. Ilya lets out a soft laugh. 

“I know.” Ilya kisses down his neck, his hand sliding up and down Shane’s side. Shane is so warm and tight around him, every squeeze is a test of Ilya’s control. But it's one that he never fails. He waits until Shane nudges his hips back to take him in a bit more before he keeps moving. 

By the time Ilya is all the way in, Shane swears he can feel him right in his stomach. His hand reaches down to rest on his abdomen, his breath catching in his throat when he feels the slight bump of Ilya’s cock. His cunt leaks around Ilya’s cock. Shane has never taken anyone, or anything for that matter, as big as Ilya is. But god, it feels so good, his cock is such a pleasant weight within him. 

Ilya pulls out almost all the way, and Shane whimpers at the emptiness. Hands grasp his hips, and carefully, Ilya repositions them. He turns Shane on his side, straddles his thigh, and slings his leg over his shoulder, holding him all the way open. Shane can't help but feel a little embarrassed at how exposed he is. 

Ilya watches Shane’s hole winking and clenching around nothing, a desperate plea for him to return. Carefully, he lines himself back up and pushes in again. 

“Ah, f-fuck!” The new position means Ilya sinks in even deeper, even heavier, the tip of his cock brushing his sweet spot. Shane thinks he could come right then and there, especially after being denied earlier. 

“You're so tight, fuck… feel so good, Hollander…” Shane can barely process the praise, too focussed on the way Ilya sets a slow, yet firm pace. Shane knows he’ll be sore tomorrow. He can't even think about how he's going to hide that from Andrei. His leg trembles in Ilya’s grip, and the older man must sense it, because he leans in to kiss down from his ankle all the way to his knee in an effort to calm his shaking body. 

“Sir, p-please…” Shane pants, eyes glassy and tears clinging to his lashes. “More.” 

Well, Ilya isn't one to disobey. 

He picks up his pace, hips snapping as he fucks Shane into the mattress. Every thrust punches another soft ‘uhn—’ from Shane as he seeks out his sweet spot, his cock just grazing over that bundle of nerves with every outward pull. 

Shane can't stop his pussy from fluttering and squeezing around the intrusion. He rests his hand on his tummy, mewling at the way he can feel the outline of Ilya’s cock under his skin every time he sinks in. Ilya rests his hand on top of Shane’s and presses down. 

“Ah! Oh fuck, fuck, s-sir…” Shane tips his head back, mouth fallen open as Ilya gently presses down on his abdomen. 

“Beautiful… you're so beautiful, Shane…” Ilya murmurs, his lips pressed to Shane’s knee. Shane almost sobs as his name tumbles from Ilya’s lips. “Taking me so well… so tight and warm and so wet…” Every time Ilya rolls his hips, another rush of slick floods out around his cock. 

“Please… please, I'm so close, please…” Shane, as he discovers, is not above begging for what he wants. He can feel that familiar sensation of warmth in his stomach, can feel the way his pussy trembles around Ilya's cock. He just needs to come. 

Shane is so stunning when he looks at Ilya with those big, pleading eyes, his hair sweaty and matted to his forehead. It makes it difficult to deny him anything. Ilya grasps Shane’s wrist and guides his hand down to rest just above his clit. 

“Show me.” Ilya says. “Show me how you touched yourself that day in the shower.” Shane whimpers at the reminder of the very event that brought them here, to this moment. But Ilya is so enchanting, so charismatic, that Shane can do little but obey. 

The first touch to his clit has Shane gasping and jerking against the mattress, sparks flying through his body. A rush of relief floods through him, his clit hard and slick under the pads of his fingers. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the mattress, indulging in the stretch of Ilya’s cock and the touch of his fingertips. 

“That’s it, good boy… keep going.” Spurred on, Shane builds up to a rhythm that perfectly complements Ilya’s pace. Each touch to his clit and each slam of Ilya’s cock pushes him closer and closer to his orgasm. Shane’s fingertips rub the sides of his clit, then move down to the swollen lips of his pussy where he can feel the swell of Ilya's cock opening him up. 

Ilya’s angle changes, just ever so slightly, but it sends shockwaves through Shane’s whole body as the tip of his cock hits something deep, deeper inside of him. It's a dull, yet pleasurable ache, and feels nothing like having his clit toyed with or having his sweet spot nailed. His cervix. In hindsight, Shane isn't surprised that Ilya has managed to touch that spot inside of him. If anything, he's more surprised that he hasn't previously. 

“Sir, s-sir…” Shane’s words begin to blur together, his head filled with hazy lust. “I-Ilya!” Shane’s whole body seizes up, trembling as he finally comes, squirting around Ilya’s cock. Fluid pools on the sheets, each snap of Ilya’s hips coaxing another gush of arousal from Shane’s pussy. Ilya fucks him through his orgasm, digging his teeth into his lip at the way Shane clamps so hard around his cock he can barely pull out. 

“Oh fuck, Shane, fuck…!” Ilya grips Shane’s ankle, a lascivious moan falling from his lips as he comes, spurting deep and hot inside Shane. Shane can't help but preen at the wet warmth that fills him, Ilya’s movements erratic as he works them both through their orgasms. 

When Shane can't squirt anymore, Ilya gently lowers his leg. Carefully, he begins to pull out. Shane lets out a discontented noise as Ilya pulls all the way out, leaving his hole gaping and red and bruised. Ilya feels his cock twitch again as he admires Shane’s pussy, his lips and clit swollen and well used. 

Shane feels so strangely empty when Ilya pulls out, and he already misses the stretch and burn. He shudders at the wet feeling of semen trickling, his hole instinctively clenching to keep it in. Shane gasps as Ilya’s fingertips reach out, pushing his come back inside, fingering it back in. 

“You are so stunning like this.” Ilya says, more to himself than to Shane.

Shane lays panting and breathless on the sheets, one arm slung over his face as he tries to catch his breath. Fuck, this was an awful idea. He's scarred for life by Ilya’s touch, and Ilya has definitely done what he promised, because now Shane is certain he’ll never be able to forget this feeling. Only now, he's also certain that it's nowhere near enough to only have Ilya this one time. He's really fucked himself over. 

Shane doesn't even notice tears trickling down his face until Ilya wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. Ilya doesn't say anything. He reaches for the bedside drawers and pulls out a packet of wipes to clean up Shane’s body and thighs, though he purposely doesn't touch his cunt. He wants to leave that as messy as possible. 

“I should go.” Shane whispers hoarsely. 

“At least stay until you can stand properly.” Ilya discards the wipes, then begins to massage Shane’s legs. “I hope you will think of me every time you want to touch yourself. Or let anyone else touch you.” 

Shane doesn't tell him that he doesn't need to hope, because he definitely will. 

*** 

Shane packs his things into the trunk of Andrei’s car, preparing to start the six hour drive back to Montreal. He’s so aware of the emptiness left behind by Ilya, remnants of semen marking his insides the only evidence left behind of their affair. 

Ilya stands by the doorway, watching as they finish packing the last of their stuff. 

“Drive safely.” He says, nodding towards Andrei. 

“We will, dad.” Andrei climbs into the driver's seat. 

“Shane?” Shane’s spine tingles, but he turns around. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Shane doesn't respond. He just climbs into the passenger seat and closes the door.