Summary:

With a sudden growl of frustration—only half-fake— Ilya sweeps the cards off the couch in one dramatic motion. Before Shane can even protest, Ilya’s crawling across the cushions, pushing Shane onto his back and settling over him. Shane yelps, laughing. “Hey—!” But the sound cuts off with a soft gasp when Ilya dips down and starts kissing along his neck, slow and thorough. One of Ilya’s hands braces next to Shane’s head, the other slides under his Henley, palm against the soft skin of Shane’s stomach. Shane drops the remaining cards instantly, his hands flying to Ilya’s waist. His breath stutters as Ilya noses along the curve of his neck, lips brushing just beneath his ear. “You’re such a sore loser,” Shane breathes, but he tilts his head anyway, baring more skin, welcoming him in. Ilya grins against him, victorious. -- Or, the one where Ilya and Shane get to ring in the New Year together for the first time.