Summary:

“Sex, Hollander,” Ilya says because he’s suddenly not in the mood to do anything except spell it out. “I am talking about sex in the Porsche.”

“Oh,” Shane says as Ilya starts to suck at skin covering taught muscles. “You’ve thought about that before, I take it.” 

Ilya groans against him. “You have no idea.”

There’s a good chance Shane will shut him down. It’s reckless afterall, and even he can recognize that. But he also knows that there’s a part of Shane that loves to do things he shouldn’t. It’s the whole fucking reason they started this thing in the first place. There’s a part of him that beats at the cage of his control. A part that only Ilya seems to be able to release. 

He really hopes that part wins out. 

“That sounds like a really terrible idea,” Shane says, his voice strained between breathy pants, and Ilya’s fine with it. Really. He’s sure they’ll have tons of other opportunities to do stupid sexy shit one day. But then– “But I think I’m just tipsy enough to let it happen.” 

___

Or, on Ilya's last night in Boston, he and Shane take his car for one final ride.