Summary:

“Hey,” Ilya’s voice, deep and rough, resonates through Shane all the way down to the bottoms of his feet. He turns his head toward the sound, but doesn’t open his eyes, instead opting just to keep the blissed-out look on his face as he waits to hear what Ilya’s going to say. Shane imagines it’ll be something like, ‘You are perfect. Such a good boy.’ Or maybe in Russian, ‘I love you so much.’ But much more likely, ‘I give you ten minutes, and then I blow you in the shower.’ Fingers brush against his cheek, and Shane leans into the touch, lost in the feeling of being loved and wanted so wholly. And then, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” His eyes open, and he wonders if his dopamine-addled brain has just misheard. “I’m sorry. What?”