Summary:

Ilya grins, relishing in the hitch in Hollander's voice. “Is nice when you beg,” he murmurs, before he drops both his hands to Hollander's waist, smoothly undoing the button on his jeans. “Your voice, it gets soft? High?” He shakes his head as Hollander kicks his pants off, leaving him in just socks and his briefs, his dick dripping, a spot of damp precum that's growing against the fabric. Ilya drags his top off but keeps his sweats on, grinning broadly at the other man. “I do not know words for it. But I do know—you are needy, Shane Hollander. Greedy for me.”

OR: Ilya has a lot of wants these days. One of which is a near constant desire to see Shane Hollander ruined in his sheets.