1 – 1 of 1 Work in brief mention of mental health status
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Dinner parties are never boring in the Hollander Rozanov household. “Rose wants to meet for dinner,” Shane said as his feet pounded out a steady rhythm on the treadmill. From his spot on the weight bench, Ilya grunted his acknowledgement. He finished his set before racking the barbell and sitting up. He took a swig from his water bottle and wiped the sweat from his face. “I don’t want to go out,” he said after a bit. Finished with the towel, he balled it up, shot it at the hamper and missed. Grumbling, he went to pick it up. “Good thing you play hockey and not basketball,” Shane quipped. Ilya flipped him off. “Why don’t you want to go out? Are you ok?” “Up here?” he tapped his temple. Shane nodded. “Yes. Am ok,” he said. “But I do have this other pain. Right here,” he palmed one of his ass cheeks. “I call it Shane.” Shane flipped him off this time. “Invite her here,” Ilya said. “Is more private. We will cook for her.” Shane stumbled on the treadmill. He hit the stop button. “What?” Ilya shrugged. “I like Rose.” “You give me shit about dating her all the time!” “Because I am teasing you, Hollander,” Ilya said, sauntering over to hold Shane’s sweaty face in his hands. “You are very cute when you are riled up.” “I am not riled up.” Ilya reached down to cup him through his shorts. He grinned and arched his brow. “It’s from exercising,” Shane muttered, a blush rising under his freckles. “Sure, Jan.” “You’ve been hanging out with Harris too much.” “Invite her over and maybe I will give you reward for being such a good boy,” Ilya said, giving his cock a slow stroke. “I hate you,” Shane whined, his forehead hitting Ilya’s shoulder. “Mhm,” Ilya said, shrugging him off. “Text her now, please.” Shane wasn’t sure what he wrote but it ended up getting the point across because his phone buzzed a second later. “What did she say?” Ilya asked, resuming his ministrations under Shane’s shorts and following the line of his neck with his mouth. “She said—oh fuck—” “She said oh fuck?” “No, asshole. She said—uhhhokayyy.” “She said okay or you are saying okay? This conversation is very confusing.” “She said yes! Fuck!” “Good,” Ilya said, abruptly removing his hand from Shane’s dick and giving his ass a resounding smack. “We need groceries! Your reward will have to wait. Hit the showers, Hollander! Very busy day ahead of us!” “Svetlana texted me,” Ilya said later that same day. He was playing a video game while Shane read one of his boring hockey books on the couch. “Oh yeah? How is she?” “She is on her way here.” Shane sat up a little. “To the cottage?” Ilya shook his head. “Ottawa.” “What is she doing in Ottawa?” Ilya shrugged. “Didn’t say.” “You don’t think she’s scouting, do you?” “Unlikely,” Ilya said. “Well…invite her over for dinner too,” Shane suggested. Ilya shot him a look. “What? I like Svetlana!”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,481
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77210086