Summary:

Shane trembles harder, overwhelmed by the praise, the possession lacing Ilya’s voice. Heat coils tight in his stomach, pressure winding. He clings to Ilya like he might float away. “Ilya,” he gasps. “I—” Ilya cards fingers through Shane’s hair, pushing damp locks off his forehead. “That’s right. You’re perfect. So pretty for me.” Shane’s face flames. The insecurity is still there, but it transforms into a desperate need for reassurance. Voice shaking, he stammers, “P-pretty… I’m—prettier?” Ilya’s thrust stutters for a heartbeat, then he groans, burying his face in Shane’s neck. “The prettiest,” he growls, words vibrating against Shane’s skin. “All mine.” It's bad enough that Shane has to do warm-ups in a giant bunny suit. It's worse that Ilya's stunning ex-boyfriend picks that exact moment to visit. It's a catastrophe when said ex starts offering unsolicited advice about what Ilya likes done with his cock. Shane’s about two seconds from losing it.