Summary:

“Well?” Shane’s voice catches, teeth gritting as his fingers clench into unforgiving porcelain. Ilya breathes out. “I can smell you from all the way down the hall.” Shane swallows, rolling his eyes as his head drops. “Fuck off.” Ilya pushes himself off from the wall, the heels of his shoes clicking against the tile. Shane doesn’t even fight it when Ilya takes his chin between his fingers, blissfully suffocated by the alpha’s proximity. Or, a Las Vegas heat fic.