Summary:

“Okay. You want to say no, you want to fight me. Pretty boy, all alone in his glass house. You want me to force you?” He didn’t need Shane to answer, really; Shane was fully hard against Ilya’s thigh and pink under his freckles. But it was best to be direct about these things. And he wanted to hear Shane say it, anyway. “I—yeah. Make me. Is that too weird?”