Summary:

“Words, Hollander. Tell me that you are helpful.” Shane clears his throat. “I-I’m helpful. When you need to come.” “молодец. Good boy,” Ilya breathes, starting to really move his hand now. He can physically see the moment the fog takes over Shane’s brain. The one that always comes over him when they’re hooking up or fucking. He watches Shane’s eyes go glassy and his mouth hang open, and his lips get wet and he knows he has him. Knows that Shane will do whatever he asks now. He loves when he’s like this. Fuck. “You are, aren’t you?” he asks. “My good boy?”