Summary:

Pretty much the second Shane closed the car door, Ilya pounced on him, pulling him into a deep kiss like a man possessed. Shane made a little noise of surprise in the back of his throat before leaning into the kiss, allowing Ilya to explore his mouth with his tongue. “Not that I’m complaining,” Shane said, panting a little as he pulled away for air. “but what prompted this?” Ilya just hummed in the back of his throat, starting the car up. Music from his chill playlist permeated the car at a low volume. He started the drive back to their home, one thing on his mind. “Have I ever told you that you sound very hot when you speak French?” Ilya asked casually. He was going a little over the speed limit. Shane, for once, didn’t scold Ilya, instead too busy sputtering at Ilya’s words. “Seriously? That’s what has you hot and bothered?” Shane asked disbelievingly. or: ilya thinks its really, *really* hot when shane speaks french