Summary:

Ilya couldn’t get enough. He was addicted to the sounds Shane made. He was hooked on his husband’s groans, moans, and whimpers; along with every variation of his name. He had never really thought much about how his name sounded before Shane, but now all he found himself able to think about is how Shane’s lips look wrapping around the consonants that spell it out, the breathy intonation behind every vowel. He’s intoxicated by the sounds he can feel reverberate through his chest and against his lips when they’re pressed close together, Shane demanding pleasure with the movement of his hips or surrendering to Ilya by falling into him, letting himself be manhandled and directed with Ilya claiming his lips as if he were a man starved. Not a day passed that Ilya did not think of the noises Shane made, or how he could get them to make more of them.