Summary:

He goes to the bed. Hollander comes to him, presses his face to Ilya's groin without being asked. His eyes are closed. He's breathing on the hot line of Ilya's dick, like this is the only place he wants to be. Fuck. Fuck. Ilya blindly reaches for his glass. His fingers, cool and wet. He nudges at the corner of Hollander’s mouth, and Hollander tilts his face toward him, opens up. Lets Ilya rub vodka into the warm hollow of his tongue.