Summary:

“Boring?” Shane asked, heart in his throat. The wet thumb on his chin stroked his bottom lip lightly, almost reverently, and Shane tried not to feel too light-headed from that simple touch. “No,” Ilya finally replied quietly, his gaze melting into something unbearably warm as it took Shane apart. “Boring is better.” Fuck, who let him say things like this? “I’ll find you one. A good replacement. No more smoking.” “Hollander,” Ilya deadpanned. “I will not suck your dick every time I want cigarette.” Shane made a show of rolling his eyes, trying—and failing—not to blush at Ilya’s crude language. “Fuck you. I wasn’t saying that." Or, Ilya starts smoking again, and Shane suggests lollipops to help him quit. It might be the best and worst idea he's ever had.