Summary:

He leans closer and squeezes around Ilya’s cock, nudges his nose against his jaw. “It’s okay, you can say it. I won’t freak out, I promise. I won’t run.” Ilya looks at him like he doesn’t trust him fully, like he’s searching for the truth in Shane’s eyes. He licks his lips and blinks, barely nods, like he always does when he makes up his mind about something. One of his hands finds way to Shane’s nape. “Shane.”