Summary:

“Shane,” Ilya mocked, copying his lover’s tone. “I do not need my shoulder to fuck.” he said. “It’ll still be better not to put any strain on it.” Shane insisted, guiding him to walk backwards until the back of Ilya’s knees met their couch, and he was made to sit. There was a blush colouring his cheeks, but his eyes were dark and filled with desire as he stared Ilya down. “Just- just sit there, I’ll claim my reward myself.” Oh. Oh fuck. Or Ilya is injured, but that wasn’t going to stop Shane from getting rewarded for their win.