Summary:

“Fuck, that’s good. You feel so good,” Shane moans above him.

He pulls him down again, and this time he holds him there, his hands firm on Ilya’s head. Instinctively, Ilya fights it, his throat spasming around the intrusion, and he tries to pull off, but Shane holds him there.

“Ah, ah. No. That’s not how you say it’s too much. You tap my leg, remember?”

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Immediate sequel to 'I Keep Telling Myself, I'm not the Desperate Type'
Stoner frat boy Ilya x cool, jock Shane