Summary:

Ilya steps into the room and closes the door behind him. “Sorry I took long. I had hockey practice.” “I know. Don’t worry about it. Please, have a seat.” Shane allows himself a small, private smile as Ilya approaches and drops into the chair in front of him. His hair looks slightly damp as runs a hand through it, a blond curl falling back over his eyes. Shane crosses his legs beneath the desk and swallows.“So," he mumbles, suddenly unsure how to begin. This is already harder than he thought it would be. "How are things looking this season?” Ilya shrugs. "Good. We fuck now?" “Ilya!” Shane blurts, yanking his glasses off and dropping them onto the desk with a clatter. So much for a night of roleplay. -- or where shane wants to try being more dominant, and ilya lets him think he'll allow it