Archive of Our Own

“Cheers to us,” Shane said, and the others echoed it.

They were sitting around Ilya’s outdoor fire. Troy and Harris, side by side, Scott alone, and Shane sitting on Ilya’s lap, one of Ilya’s hands possessively on Shane’s upper thigh, which he kept stroking with his thumb.

As the warmth of the fire flickered around them, Ilya caught himself wondering if this fragile moment of camaraderie would last. He had sensed the undercurrent of tension between them for months now -ever since they'd wrapped up filming in South Korea. Shane was to blame, of course- and Ilya glanced up to find's Scotts eyes on him again, wondering if tonight might mark a turning point even as his mind went back to that night. 

They were at a club after they'd wrapped shooting. Ilya was dancing while Shane was content with watching him from the bar, laughing and joking with Scott.

Now, they were both watching Ilya on the dancefloor. 

Ilya knew precisely what he was doing. Shane could tell by the way he glanced over the woman’s shoulder, eyes cutting through the crowd until they found him. Just one look — slow, deliberate — and Shane’s whole body tightened. Ilya held his gaze while he moved with her, hips rolling to the beat, his hand finally settling on her waist like he was daring Shane to react.

“[He’s looking at me again],” Ilya told Shane. He didn’t bother whispering; no one else would understand. The reminder made his cock give an interested kick, and Shane chuckled as he felt it under his asscheek.

Ilya watched Scott as he drank. Scott nursed his drink a little too thoughtfully, and Ilya saw the way his eyes went lower to Ilya’s throat as he swallowed his vodka.

Ilya couldn’t quell the curiosity he felt towards Scott’s obvious interest, and Shane seemed content but a touch apprehensive, like he knew crossing a line might change everything. For all of them, this gathering felt like standing at the edge of something deep and uncertain.

They had talked extensively about this perspective “thing” with Scott. So much in fact, that Shane forbade Ilya from bringing it up again unless Ilya was going to do something about it, finally.

Truth was, Ilya wanted to do something about it. He had threesomes before, with both men and women, but Shane hadn’t. And while Shane had admitted, blushing and gasping in between thrusts, that he would be okay with Scott joining them, Ilya still didn’t believe him.

Shane was soft and timid and had been almost a virgin when Ilya had met him. The first and only man to have him, to rim him, to fuck him. And while the idea of someone getting to unravel Shane the way only Ilya could burned him with so much rage it was staggering, when he replaced the nameless stranger with Scott, it became suddenly more manageable, and… almost bearable.

Not to mention, Scott was a good friend to Shane. And he was a safe choice, since he couldn’t go public with any photos or videos without damning himself as well.

Ilya took another sip, bringing his eyes back to Scott, who had been laughing, but suddenly, feeling Ilya’s eyes on him, turned to face him. Scott’s laughter died down to a smile, and then it became something else. Something that made Ilya grit his teeth, curse, and drain the rest of his glass.

The eye fucking -as Shane had coined it- went on for the rest of the night. And it sparked a flame hotter than the one they were sitting around on.

If Harris and Troy noticed, they didn’t comment, even when, at one point, Shane had stood to grab them more alcohol, and his obvious tent was left out in the open for all to see.

He looked at Scott when this happened, slapping Shane’s ass as he went, eliciting a squeal from his boyfriend that made his dick jump. He caught Scott’s eyes following the twitch of his dick, the way the other man had licked his lips, as if savoring the hard cock he’d only ever caught a glimpse of, before he met Ilya’s gaze.

And there was no denying it anymore. This, whatever the fuck it was, would go down tonight.

A brief pause settled in as Troy poked the fire, sending a cascade of sparks dancing into the cool night air. The mesmerizing crackle of the flames momentarily softened the charged atmosphere, as if nature offered a fleeting respite before the inevitable unfolded. Then, Harris chuckled at a shared joke, his voice a thread of humor cutting through the tension. But the gravity of the night remained, and Ilya stood intent on following Shane into the house. He adjusted himself as discreetly as he could, which only had the opposite effect of bringing all their attention to it.

“Holy shit,” Troy said, choking on his beer.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Harris said, with a shocked laugh as he clapped his man’s back. “My condolences to Shane’s ass.”

Ilya smiled smugly, proud of himself, and purposefully did not look at Scott. He didn’t want to spoil it, rather see his reaction when he had this cock, bare and in full display in front of him.

He almost sprinted inside, the heat inside of him turning into an electric sort of buzz that made him wrap his arms around his boyfriend and lift him so his feet were off the air for a second, as he peppered his neck with kisses before putting him down again.

Shane giggled and smacked at Ilya’s arms to put him down, then to let him go. Both which he did, but only so he could turn Shane around and wrap his arms around him again, pulling their hips together.

He loved the way Shane’s eyes widened and the small gasp he exhaled as he felt Ilya’s erection. “What’s this?”

Ilya planted a quick kiss against Shane’s lips. He felt giddy, like he was about to get away with doing something bad.

“How are you feeling tonight?”

“About?” Shane asked, his hands running over Ilya’s pecks.

Ilya raised his eyebrows once, quickly, suggestively.

Shane laughed, “What?”

Ilya sighed, and then he pointed his head in the direction of the patio.

Shane’s eyes widened as he got it. “Oh. Like… actually?”

Ilya shrugged one shoulder. “Only if you want.”

Shane said, "I want," with a breathless eagerness that made Ilya's heart skip. It was surprising how quickly his possessiveness flared, forcing him to clench his fists momentarily. The pulse in his throat throbbed with conflicting emotions, matching the rhythm of Shane's quick agreement. But Ilya reminded himself that he had been the one to bring it up.

“How is it going down?” Shane asked, seriously, even as Ilya felt his growing interest in the way Shane’s cock was getting hard against his own.

“Do you still have the boundaries?”

“You mean the lack of them?” Shane asked and nodded. “Trust you.”

Ilya couldn’t help the fond smile that broke on his face. He loved this man so much. This overly critical, overthinking, control freak that somehow switched his instincts off when it came to Ilya because he trusted Ilya would take care of it, of him. He loved that Shane trusted him like this, enough to allow himself to shed that barrier that kept him from the rest of the world.

Was Ilya willing to share this with another man?

Yes.

Shane was only like this because of him. Ilya was the one Shane loved and trusted. Scott would be nothing more than an accessory in their dynamic, their sex. This was their home, and these were their rules.

Shane loved following rules almost as much as Ilya liked creating them. It was an addictive cycle. And one, which Ilya wanted to expand on.

“Okay,” Ilya said, and placed a kiss on Shane’s forehead. Then, he brought their mouths together, using his hand to tilt Shane’s chin up as he deepened it. Shane moaned into their kiss, his hands coming to the small of Ilya’s back as he tugged on his shirt and pulled him closer.

The kitchen was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, alive with the flicker from the fireplace outside. The scent of burning wood clung to the air, an echo of the warm night they had shared, infusing the room with a simmering heat. They pulled away at the sound of laughter and turned to face the friends they'd left unattended.

But Ilya was only focused on one, the man behind the other two, who was looking between them with hooded eyes. As Scott's gaze met Ilya's, the clinking of bottles as the men apparently all cheered to them, punctuated the charged silence, each muted sound a reminder of the unspoken tension and promises hanging in the air.

“How do we get rid of them?”

“Let me handle it,” Shane said, placing one last kiss on Ilya’s cheek. Then Shane ran a hand through Ilya’s hair, a silent question in his eyes, and Ilya smiled.

“I am sure,” Ilya said. “I promise to tell you if I change my mind.”

“Me too,” Shane said, then his smile turned filthy. “Though I must warn you, I am not going to be very coherent through it. I already feel a bit dizzy just thinking about it.”

“I figured,” Ilya said, and tapped the side of Shane’s thigh. “[I promise I got you].”

“[I know],” Shane said, and then he was grabbing the opened beer bottles he’d left on the counter and walking outside back to their guests.

Ilya got lost in the casual sway of Shane’s hips, and he found he wasn’t the only one.

Ten minutes later, Harris and Troy were making excuses to leave because Shane had begun yawning every couple of minutes, his eyes growing heavy and his laugh softer. And Ilya had to hold back his laugh when they finally waved the men out of his driveway.

“Very impressive performance, Mr. Hollander,” Ilya joked, tapping Shane’s ass as they made their way back inside.

“Maybe I have a future in acting.”

“Maybe.”

They were laughing and joking between them as they entered the house, with Shane grabbing Ilya’s hand and guiding him towards the kitchen, where he knew Scott was probably waiting.

He was standing with their back to them, his eyes to the patio they’d just vacated. He turned when he heard them approach, and all three men stopped.

At once, the air around them grew weighted, the unmistakable tension and anticipation making Shane’s heart race instantly. He knew Ilya wasn’t faring much better, but he’d always been able to hide it.

Ilya’s voice was steady as he said, “Are you sure this is what you want, Hunter?”

And that was that. No preamble, no skirting around the subject. Straight for the jugular.

Shane shuddered at the assertiveness in his tone, the raw confidence, the unmistakable power he knew he held over the other man, over Shane. With that simple question, he’d solidified himself as the man in charge. And Shane wanted to drop to his knees right then and there.

Scott nodded. “Kip and I. We have an open relationship of sorts. It’s not ideal, but it works, and I…” He looked nervous. “Sorry, I…”

Ilya began to walk forward, running his hands up Shane’s back as he went and leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

Shane watched Scott’s eyes follow Ilya’s approach. Saw the nervous sort of way he licked his lips and swallowed. Ilya stopped when he was touching distance, and then he brought one hand up to cup the back of Scott’s neck.

Ilya and Scott stood close. Too close. Close enough that the air between them felt like it might crack.

Scott said something Shane couldn’t hear, something quiet, something that made Ilya’s breath hitch just slightly. Shane knew that sound. He felt it like a tug behind his ribs.

Ilya hesitated — Shane saw it, the flicker of uncertainty, the way his fingers curled against the counter as if he needed something to hold onto. But Scott didn’t move away. He waited, steady and patient, eyes locked on Ilya as if he were offering something dangerous and irresistible.

Ilya turned his head, and his eyes, already full of fire and lust, met Shane’s. It was a silent question, a plea, but also an “I will stop this right now if you tell me to.” And suddenly, Shane found himself nodding.

Ilya made a sound like a mix between a groan and a moan, and then he closed the distance between them.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t frantic. It was slow, deliberate, a pull of gravity that neither of them fought. Scott’s hand rose to Ilya’s jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, guiding him closer. Ilya melted into it, breath catching, shoulders relaxing like he’d been holding tension for hours and finally let it go.

Heat curled low in Shane’s stomach — sharp, unexpected, intoxicating.

He should’ve been angry. He should’ve stepped in, said something, stopped it. But he didn’t. He watched. And the jealousy that hit him wasn’t the kind that burned destructively. It was the kind that made his pulse thrum, made his breath come shallow, made him grip the doorframe because suddenly he wanted Ilya with a force that bordered on reckless.

Seeing someone else touch him, want him, lit something in Shane he didn’t know how to name. A dark, hungry twist of possessiveness and desire. Because Ilya was his, and yet here he was, kissing someone else with a softness Shane had only ever seen in private.

And God, it made him want him even more.

Scott deepened the kiss just slightly, not pushing, just asking. Ilya answered with a quiet exhale, a tilt of his head, a hand fisting gently in Scott’s shirt like he wasn’t sure whether to pull him closer or hold himself back.

That hesitation, that need, hit Shane hardest.

Because Ilya wasn’t lost in the moment. He wasn’t swept away. He was choosing this. Testing it. Feeling it. And Shane felt the jealousy coil tighter, hotter, but threaded with something else — anticipation. The sharp thrill of possibility. The electric awareness that sharing Ilya didn’t diminish anything. It amplified it.

Scott pulled back first, just enough to breathe, their foreheads nearly touching. Ilya’s lips were parted, eyes half lidded, chest rising and falling like he was trying to steady himself.

Shane swallowed hard.

For a heartbeat, everything stilled.

Ilya didn’t look startled. He didn’t look guilty. He looked… aware.

Shane felt the heat spike in his chest, sharp and electric.

Ilya exhaled, a soft, shaky sound that hit Shane like a hand closing around his ribs.

“Come here,” Ilya murmured.

Shane didn’t move at first. He wasn’t sure he could. The jealousy was still there — hot, coiled, alive — but it wasn’t pushing him away. It was pulling him forward, tightening everything inside him until he felt like he might snap from wanting.

Ilya stepped away from the counter, closing the distance between them by a single, measured step. His eyes never left Shane’s.

“Is this still okay?” Ilya asked quietly.

The words hit Shane like a physical touch. He felt that warmth that only bloomed for Ilya return inside his chest, gliding through the confusing emotions he was still learning how to navigate.

“I want it,” Shane said. “It’s just… It’s a lot, no?”

“Da,” Ilya said with a small laugh. “But you liked it? What I did.”

Shane smiled and ran a hand up Ilya’s face in a gentle caress. “I did, I promise.”

“Okay,” Ilya said, then he stepped back. “And you trust me, yes?”

Shane saw the shift and heard it too. When Ilya blinked, Shane was looking at the man he met only in the bedroom, the dominating, all-consuming God of Sex Shane had somehow snagged for himself.

And yes, fuck. Yes.

“I do -fuck, Rozanov.”

Ilya smirked darkly at his needy tone and grabbed Shane’s chin before licking into his mouth.

Shane lost himself in it, momentarily forgetting what they were doing until Ilya pulled back much too soon.  Ilya reached out, brushing his fingers against Shane’s wrist. Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just a touch, warm and grounding and impossibly intimate.

“Take him to the bedroom,” Ilya said, voice soft but steady.

Scott’s breath caught — barely audible, but enough to make the air shift again.

Shane felt the world tilt.

Not because of the request — but because of the trust in it. The invitation. The way Ilya’s eyes held his, full of heat and hesitation and need all tangled together. The way Scott watched them both, waiting, breath unsteady, caught in the gravity of something bigger than he’d ever thought he’d witness.

The jealousy didn’t fade. It sharpened. Sweetened. Twisted into something that made Shane’s pulse thrum in his throat.

Scott swallowed, eyes widening just slightly as Shane approached — not in fear, but in anticipation. In understanding.

The tension in the room thickened, becoming charged, electric.

Shane stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth of Scott’s breath, close enough to sense the way the moment balanced on a knife’s edge.

Shane didn’t touch him yet. He just looked back at Ilya.

Ilya’s expression was a storm — desire, tension, hunger, love — all flickering across his face like reflections of the same flame.

Shane felt something inside him settle.

Then he took Scott’s hand.

“Hi,” he said, because Scott was looking suddenly very nervous.

“Hi,” Scott said, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“You still want this?”

Scott looked from Shane to the spot behind him where Ilya lingered.

Then he nodded, and Shane began to tug him away, down the hall towards their bedroom.

Scott’s hand felt foreign in Shane’s. So used to holding only Ilya’s. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, or even an odd one; it was new and exciting, like tasting a foreign dish for the first time.

Once they were inside the room, Ilya closed the doors behind them, casting them into the soft, ambient lighting of a few chosen lamps and accents. It left them with enough darkness that Shane felt infinitely more comfortable when Ilya stood behind him and began to tug his shirt over his head. Shane shuddered as the air hit his naked torso, and then again, when Ilya’s hands ran over his defined stomach, and over his already hard nipples.

He let his eyes slip shut, losing himself to the sensation. Even with his eyes closed, he was still keenly aware of another set of eyes on his body, and he whined, pushing his ass against Ilya in want.

He heard Ilya’s dark, rich chuckle next to his ear.

“Look at him. Look at how beautiful my Shane is.”

Shane preened at the words, shivering as Ilya sucked a light kiss into the space between his neck and shoulder. They were still filming, which meant no marks, but Ilya didn’t need to be reminded. “Do you want to feel him? How soft his skin is?”

Shane gasped when, a moment later, timid fingers were gracing lightly over his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, and his biceps. It was heady. The way he could tell by touch alone who was who.

“Fuck.”

“He likes it,” Ilya said, then he stepped back, and Shane’s eyes snapped open.

“[I’m here],” Ilya told him, coming around so he was standing next to Scott.

And fuck, Scott looked… utterly gripped, utterly still, breath caught, eyes fixed on his bare torso with a reverence that bordered on disbelief. It wasn’t hunger alone that held him there; it was awe, the stunned recognition of someone confronted with unexpected beauty. Scott stared at him the way people stared at art they never thought they’d see up close, struck silent by the simple fact of him.

“Come on, Hollander,” Ilya urged, reading Shane’s next move before he himself had finished processing it.

And Shane didn’t think before he lounged forward and kissed his friend.

This time, the kiss turned heated instantly. Scott’s hands wrapped around Shane’s waist, pulling him closer as Shane tilted his head up and allowed him to lick into his mouth. Shane moaned into it, which Scott swallowed before letting out a sound of his own, and then Ilya’s hands were tangled in Shane’s hair, and he was pulling him back from it. It wasn’t harsh, but enough that Shane let out a hiss, his hips pushing against Scott’s as the pain sent a shot of pleasure up his spine.

He felt Ilya’s tongue ravage his mouth next, taking with it the remains of Scott from his mouth like he wanted to make sure nothing remained behind when he was done. And while holding Scott’s hand had felt like kissing, kissing Ilya felt like coming back home after being gone for a long time. It was familiar and comforting yet still so fucking hot.

Scott was undeterred and brought his mouth down to Shane’s neck.

“No marks,” Ilya told him, after pulling away from Shane’s mouth, and Shane was gasping, whining at the loss of him and the gain of the sensations from Scott. He was so hard it was painful, made worse by Scott, who, at the warning, removed his head from Shane’s neck and gripped the back of Ilya’s before bringing their mouths together with Shane sandwiched between them.

And Shane could see their tongues sliding together, the way Ilya’s eyes remained half open as he looked down at Scott, could hear the wet slurping sounds, and feel the way both men were pressing against Shane’s body for release, their hard dicks rubbing against Shane’s own dick and ass.

Too soon, Ilya pulled away.

“Both of you. On the bed.”

Shane obeyed instantly, proud of the way Scott looked at him, with shock and want in his eyes. He followed him right after, though, and then they both lay there, propped on their elbows as they looked up at Ilya, who stood at the foot of the bed, watching them.

“Get naked,” Ilya said, and demonstrated by taking off his own shirt and letting it fall on the floor.

Shane ripped his clothes off so quickly that it was almost painful. Scott, on the other hand, was more deliberate as he took his own off. Instead of taking it off while lying down as Shane had, Scott began to crawl towards Ilya, who raised one eyebrow at him, then proceeded to hook his fingers into his sweats. Ilya pulled it the tiniest bit down so that a dark patch of neatly trimmed hair peeked out.

Scott licked his lips at the sight, and then he stopped. Once he was so close he could probably kiss over Ilya’s bulge, he went up to his knees.

He took off his shirt, then his eyes locked on Ilya as he began unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the fly. When he slid it down, Shane gasped.

He hadn’t been wearing underwear, which meant he’d been left wonderfully exposed.

Shane watched with bated breath as Ilya held Scott’s gaze for a moment before he let his eyes move down and take Scott in, that smug smirk returning.

Scott Hunter was no small man, but he was no nine inches. Still, it was decent. Thick and symmetrical. Uncut.

He didn't trim like Ilya, the pubic hair forming a dark patch over it, and Shane had the strange desire to bury his nose in it and sniff.

“Nice cock, Hunter,” Ilya said.

“Nice ass, too,” Shane added, and Ilya’s smirk grew as his eyes found him.

Shane’s body heated under his gaze, enjoying having Ilya’s undivided attention. Until Scott reached over and cupped Ilya’s dick through his pants.

Ilya groaned, his eyes returning once more to Scott, as he pushed his hips against his hand.

And no, that just wouldn’t do.

Shane used Scott’s technique to get closer to Ilya, crawling on his hands and knees as he slid to the place where Ilya waited for him. Shane smiled coyly up at Ilya as he neared him, and he heard Ilya curse in Russian. He forewent Ilya’s dick, allowing Scott to continue to massage him as he ran his tongue over Ilya’s hipbone, sucking and licking as he moved down lower, not touching, just using his mouth, reminding Ilya of how good he could be for him.

Ilya stepped back with another curse, and then his sweats and boxers dropped like one to the floor.

Ilya watched for Scott’s reaction and felt a shot of delicious pride and heat at the way his eyes widened, and his mouth fell slightly ajar, but he didn’t do much more than that. Instead of being put off, Scott looked fucking eager, his face twisting to show a newfound fire. A challenge. Ilya wondered if he wanted to get fucked by it.

Too bad, that was the one thing he wouldn’t let himself do. It felt like crossing a line, one that he didn’t want to cross. Besides, he knew no one could ever compare to the perfect, tight heat of Shane—the ass he’d molded from years of use, to fit him like a glove.

Scott reached out for him instantly, and Ilya gripped his wrist, stopping him.

Then his eyes met Shane’s. “I’ll let you take over for this next part, sweetheart. What do you want?”

Shane looked surprised, but he smiled and said, “I want to watch him, suck your cock. I mean…” He turned to Scott. “Only if you want.”

“Fuck, yes,” Scott said, already lowering himself on his stomach to get the better angle, but Ilya began to climb onto the bed between them. Both men were on him at once. He conquered Shane’s mouth as he lowered himself down onto the mattress and reached out a hand to pump Scott’s hard, angry-looking cock.

Scott hissed, his eyes sliding shut, and Shane pulled back, eyes on Ilya’s expert hand over another man’s dick.

Ilya let Scott go at once, and he gripped Shane’s chin. “Remember what I said. Just say the word, and we will stop.”

Shane’s eyes were shimmering as he nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Ilya pressed another kiss on his lip, Scott all but forgotten, until Shane pulled back and settled on his knees. He cleared his throat.

“What are you waiting for, Hunter? Suck his cock.”

Both Scott’s and Ilya’s eyes widened at the authority in Shane’s voice, and Ilya groaned when Scott got down in the space between Ilya’s spread legs and hooked his hands behind his thighs to pull Ilya down a bit lower. Ilya went willingly, and then Scott was licking a wide stripe up his dick before swallowing the head.

“[Shit], Hunter.”

Scott Hunter was no Shane Hollander, but he wasn’t bad; in fact, he was just as good in a different way. Whereas Shane sucked Ilya’s cock like his life depended on it, so used to only Ilya’s way of liking to be pleased that he was a pro at eliciting his pleasure perfectly, fine-tuned to him, Scott had the experience of volume, just like Ilya. He knew what worked because he’d tested it on many willing participants, and he was really fucking good with it.

Ilya groaned and reached over to grab a hold of Scott’s hair, not pulling or pushing, not yet.

When he turned, Shane was watching him, eyes transfixed like he was witnessing something profound and transformative. The room seemed to blur around him, the sounds of Scott's efforts and Ilya's moans receding into a distant hum. Every detail of Shane's restraint, the trembling of his thighs, the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped his skin, stood out starkly against a backdrop that had dimmed to insignificance. He looked like the sight might be too much; his cock was leaking heavily, taut and demanding, his body struggling not to give in to the temptation of his own touch. Yet, in that intense, narrowed focus, Shane's vulnerability was laid bare, and Ilya let out a moan that had nothing to do with Scott's twirling tongue and everything to do with the raw, intimate connection that tied them in that moment.

Scott came up for air, gasping and moving lower so he was paying attention to Ilya’s balls, and Ilya reached out a hand to Shane, who took it. He kissed Shane’s sweaty forehead as he fitted himself beside Ilya, now getting Ilya’s viewpoint of Scott.

The way his shoulders and back worked as he bobbed his head, the strong, expert tugs of his masculine hand as he alternated between sucking and jerking. The way his eyes, dark and unmistakably shiny from the few times he’d gagged trying to take him all down, looked up to find Ilya’s as he attempted it again.

There was spit on his chin and lips, but he didn’t wipe it; he just kept going, like he had something to prove.

Shane hissed when he felt a hand wrap around his cock, and Ilya caught the sound with his mouth as he pulled on his oversensitive flesh slowly. Then he moved away, suddenly struck with an idea.

“Get on top of me.”

Shane did, straddling Ilya as he faced him.

“The other way,” Ilya said, and felt Shane’s shudder from the implication. Ilya couldn’t hold back his chuckle. “Always so gone for it, my slut.”

Scott made a noise as if he’d been struck by Ilya’s words, and even though Ilya hadn’t meant them for him, he didn’t feel like taking them back from the man now. Shane, however, followed his command and settled over Ilya’s chest so his beautiful, perfect ass was facing Ilya, and his face was almost bumping into Scott’s.

Ilya wasted no time before he gripped Shane’s ass and spread, licking him.

Shane moaned and bit down on the soft flesh of Ilya’s thigh.

This had the effect of making Scott moan as well, sending the vibrations down on Ilya’s cock, which made Ilya send his own moan against Shane’s hole, making him almost scream.

It was intoxicating, the noises. The sounds of Scott on Ilya’s cock and Ilya’s fevered slurping and tonguing of Shane. And Shane, with nothing to occupy his mouth, was painting the scene with his small noises that had both Ilya and Scott cursing and renewing their efforts.

At one such noise, Scott pulled off Ilya’s cock and grabbed a hold of Shane’s chin. “Can I kiss you?”

Shane was reaching out for him before the sentence was over, and then Ilya was sitting up and pulling Shane with him a millisecond before their lips could connect. Shane whined unhappily against Ilya’s chest, his hands reaching out for Scott, and Ilya kissed his shoulder.

“Go on, Scott. My darling needs something from you.”

Scott looked at the scene in front of him, at Shane’s lithe body as he sat straddling Ilya’s thighs, so Scott had the perfect view of his strong pecks and abs, his cock, which was smaller than theirs but thicker. His face was so, so pretty with his blushing, freckled cheeks and his wet eyes.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” Ilya said, and Scott nodded, still transfixed. “You are lucky to see him like this.”

“I am,” Scott said, reverently. Then he straddled Ilya’s legs and settled in front of Shane. He put one hand on Shane’s cheek, overheated against his palm. Shane looked up at him with big expectant eyes.

This was nothing like the Shane he knew. That Shane was reserved to the point of being closed off, he was always busy freaking out over every single aspect in his life, his career, and how he spent every second of the day. He was anxious and overworrying.

This man was so fragile, so vulnerable, and trusting. There was calmness to him in his needy desperation that made him endearing. It was in the way he looked at Scott, impatient yet so obediently, as if he enjoyed the torture of waiting for Scott to make the move only because he wanted to be told he’d done a good job. And Scott could do that, he could so do that.

“So good for us, Shane,” Scott said, testing his theory, and smiled knowingly when Shane had to close his eyes as he moaned, the sound almost too much.

Ilya chuckled and ran his hands up Shane’s thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he went. “He is. Always so good. The very best.”

Shane whimpered, and Scott figured he’d torture him for long enough.

He went to close the distance, but Ilya moved them again. Scott was beginning to think the man was doing this on purpose. But then, instantly realized Ilya was just a genius.

Shane was gently placed on his back beside Scott, with Ilya standing from the bed. Shane watched him go with big, questioning eyes, but groaned and lay back down when he heard the sound of the bedside drawer slide open.

Scott saw Ilya grab the almost empty bottle of lube and a pack of condoms, which he threw on the bed beside Shane.

“Kiss my boyfriend, Scott. Stop making him wait.”

Scott finally did.

Just as before, their kiss turned heated instantly. Shane had these plush, soft lips, and he kissed hungrily, like a man starved. It was hot as fuck. Scott felt the bed dip behind him and felt Ilya’s hands run down his stomach and circle his cock. Scott groaned and pulled away from Shane.

“Fuck, Roz.”

“Don’t stop kissing him.”

Shane was on him the next breath, working his tongue into Scott’s mouth as his boyfriend ran a slick, lube-covered hand over his length in slow, expert motions. Then Ilya shifted, and the hold on Scott was gone.

He and Shane pulled away from each other to watch Ilya settle between Shane’s legs.

“You ready, love?”

Shane nodded eagerly, and Ilya smiled at him as he opened the bottle. He turned so a glub of it would fall on his fingers, but then stopped, his eyes meeting Shane’s again. “Do you remember your safe word?”

Shane shivered and nodded quickly.

“Scott, get over here.”

Holy shit.

Scott did, settling in beside Ilya, who said, “Hand,” and waited, lube at the ready to pour it over Scott’s fingers instead. When they were coated to his liking, he placed a kiss against Shane’s knee.

Then he turned to Scott. “He likes it gentle at first, but you’re going to go deep from the very beginning. Slow and deep, got it?”

“Fuck, yes. I get it.”

Ilya watched his face for a sign of hesitation, and after finding none, he joined their lips. Kissing Ilya was utterly different than kissing Shane. Whereas Shane was hot and desperate, Ilya was calm and in control. He licked with precision, moved his tongue with cool, penetrating thrusts, and licked into his mouth like a man who knew he was the best at what he did, and had no need to show off about it.

Scott was burning inside.

“You ready?” Ilya asked after he finished their kiss.

Both Shane and Scott nodded.

“Go for it, Hunter.”

He did.

Shane’s hole was pretty, almost entirely hairless. Shane let out a whimper when Scott ran his finger over it, teasing, and then he pushed in, in, in until he was all the way up to the second knuckle.

Shane was breathing heavily, not from discomfort but from need.

“Can I move?” Scott asked him, and Shane nodded rapidly.

“Please.”

He did, watching Shane fall slowly apart beneath him. He was so beautiful as she tried to stay still, his hands grabbing the sheets and fisting them, his cock leaking and twitching with every push in. Scott had never seen such a pretty, wanton sight.

It was… dangerously addicting.

“Da, so beautiful for me, sweetheart.”

Ilya had been running his mouth since the second finger, coming up so he was beside Shane, running his hand up and down Shane’s side, his hip, his stomach, peppering his cheeks and forehead with tiny kisses, that only had the effect of making Shane lose it.

Scott had never seen something so beautifully intimate. And this was a side of Rozanov he had never expected to meet. He wasn’t the arrogant asshole who loved to fuck with people as a sport. He was adoring, gentle, doting, so in love it was sickening. He was the most gentle, sweet lover Scott had ever encountered, but only with Shane. The moment his eyes met Scott, he met the dominating, harsh man from before, and then Scott was adding a third finger, and Shane let out a long, strung-out groan as he arched his back, and Ilya was back to gentle, swallowing Shane’s moans into his mouth.

The switch gave Scott whiplash.

Finally, when Ilya deemed Shane ready and confirmed with Shane that this was in fact the case, he ordered Shane to his hands and knees.

“You will not fuck him,” Ilya told Scott. “If you think this might be a problem for you, there’s the door.”

Scott shook his head quickly. “It's no problem.”

Then Ilya gripped Shane’s hips, and Scott waited with bated breath as Ilya kissed Shane’s shoulder blade, murmuring something in Russian that made Shane groan and bury his face in his hands, before Ilya lined himself up and entered him.

The sight of Shane’s tight hole stretching to accommodate Ilya’s huge dick was something that would live forever in his mind.  Even more impressive was the way Ilya didn’t even stop to give him time; he just kept going, very slowly, until his pelvis met Shane’s ass, his cock completely sheathed to the hilt. And Shane was still, so still, but he had on this serene, almost blissful look on his face, that Scott suddenly wanted to feel too.

“Will you fuck me, too?”

“No,” Ilya said, like he’d been giving it thought and had already surmised that he had no interest. The rejection stung, and Scott tried not to let it show. Ilya’s hand was on his chin instantly, turning his face so Scott met his eyes.

“I can’t,” he said. “That’s a boundary I don’t feel comfortable pushing tonight.”

And Scott could understand that. He could.

“You can fuck him.” Shane looked like he was about to cry. “He can fuck you. We can all fuck each other, as long as you fucking move, Rozanov. Now! Please.”

Ilya’s stunned shock left him quickly, pushing down on Shane’s head against the mattress as he set one foot on the bed and adjusted the angle, and then he pulled back so his whole cock was outside, before he rammed it back in.

Shane screamed then, the sound almost animalistic as if it had come from a part deep inside of him. It was the hottest sound Scott had ever heard; nothing had ever come close, nothing.

Scott swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.  

"Holy fuck, Shane.”

“Yeah,” Ilya said, and he looked almost awed. “He fucking loves it. Such a slut for my cock.”

He was slamming in mercilessly, and Shane was taking it all like a man starved. Even more so, he was pushing his hips back, meeting Ilya’s thrusts, his body, chest, and face covered by a deep blush as he got fucked like he needed it to survive.

And that’s when Scott noticed Ilya was no longer in charge. It was Shane. Shane, who was telling him what to do, but not with words, with his sounds, and the way his body moved, the way his hands reached back and gripped Ilya’s thigh, like he needed him closer, deeper, even though Scott didn’t think there was anywhere deeper for him to go.

“Touch yourself,” Ilya told him. “He’s close.”

“Are you?” Scott asked, even as he followed the command. He wished he could touch, wish he could get more than just his own hand on his dick, but he didn’t voice this. He knew he was lucky even to get this show, fortunate to have been given what he had. He wouldn’t ruin it all by being greedy.

“Yes,” Ilya said, and then he was grabbing a handful of Shane’s hair and pulling him up by it, and Scott had a perfect view of Shane’s body as he got fucked by Ilya from behind, Shane’s back to Ilya’s chest. The thrusts weren’t as languid now, more short, quick shots against Shane’s prostate that had Shane gasping and groaning in repetitive little ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh.

“Hunter, suck him,” Ilya said, through gritted teeth.

Shane’s eyes snapped open then, and he whimpered as he followed Scott’s approach. The sight became too much when Scott bent forward, reaching his mouth to his cock, and he closed them again just as Scott took him down in one go.

“Fuck, Scott,” Shane moaned, his hand tangling in Scott’s hair as he tried to hold him steady, but the hand was gone quickly, like he couldn’t decide whether it was too much or not enough.

“Come on, Hunter,” Ilya urged him. His voice was shaky, and Scott choked around Shane’s cock as Ilya’s sudden thrust made it hit the back of Scott’s throat. “Make my Shane come. He’s been so good to us. Doesn’t he deserve it?”

Scott pulled back, kissing Shane’s tip as he tugged him. “He does,” he added, watching Shane’s face morph into an almost pained expression, his fingers gripping into Ilya’s hips behind him, pulling him closer. “You’re going to come for us?” Scott asked him, and Shane nodded, sucking on the fingers that Ilya had stuck inside his mouth.

And fuck, they looked so fucking hot joined like that, Ilya’s face a mix between need, want, and satisfaction, with Shane’s scrunched up features as he had never known more profound pleasure. Their sweaty bodies glide together in the low light, their defined muscles flexing and clenching. The sound of skin against skin, and their smell, so raw and heady and masculine-

Scott took Shane down into his mouth, his own hand working himself as he sucked Shane as best as he could. He wanted to know what Shane sounded like when he climaxed, needed his taste on his tongue, and feel his release slide down his throat.

It happened within seconds, with Shane letting out a string of incoherent words and sounds, giving a small warning to Scott before his entire body tensed and he came down his throat. Ilya followed him over, and Scott was helpless against the pull.

Ilya and Shane fell to the bed, Ilya pulling out of Shane slowly, and moving to the ensuite. Scott watched him go, mesmerized by the sway of his hips and the sight of the most perfect ass he’d ever seen.

How had he not noticed it before?

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a body slide next to him, Shane’s, who had cuddled against him, one hand coming to rest over Scott’s stomach, his head on Scott’s chest.

Scott froze. It wasn’t that he didn’t like this; he loved to cuddle, was a big advocate for it, but fucking was one thing. He didn’t want to overstep or make this into something that Ilya maybe wouldn’t be comfortable with.

Shane seemed not to care, though. He snuggled tighter to Scott and even went as far as to place a kiss on his cheek, eyes closing as he let out a contented sigh.

Shane felt right against him, which scared him because the only person he’d ever let this thought bloom for was Kip.

Scott heard Ilya’s steps and looked up to see him as he caught sight of them.

Ilya stopped.

Scott prepared himself for the anger, the lashing out, but instead, Ilya smiled gently, his eyes on Shane.

“He always gets like this,” he said, and the tight knot in Scott loosened.

“Yeah, so does Kip.”

The mention of Kip seemed to make Ilya’s smile grow, like the reminder that Scott was not a threat to his relationship was the final push he needed to let go of any lingering hesitation. He got in bed behind Shane, his words soft as he told him something in Russian. Shane smiled against Scott’s skin and nodded, lying more fully on Scott’s chest as he presented his ass for Ilya.

Scott watched as Ilya placed a kiss against his right cheek and then ran the towel between his cheeks, collecting himself and the leftover lube. Shane made small noises, soft hisses that were met with a kiss on his forehead from Scott and another on his cheek from Ilya. Scott ran his hands over Shane’s back, his hair, and couldn’t keep from inhaling the sweet signature scent that was Shane as he did so. Ilya caught him and winked.

“It’s so fucking addicting, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Scott said, blushing. “He is.”

“Too bad you need to go back to your house now.”

And there it was.

Scott smiled ruefully and began to untangle himself from Shane, who let him go easily, turning so he could fit against his boyfriend’s body instead, who wrapped his arms possessively around him, covering him from Scott’s view as though Scott had not seen it all by now.

Scott dressed quickly and began to walk out when Ilya’s voice stopped him.

“Wait, Hunter. I’ll walk you out.”

Shane did make a noise of protest when Ilya made to move, but Ilya kissed him, reassuring him he’d be back soon, and then he was sliding on his sweatpants and guiding Scott to the door.

“You got everything?” Ilya asked him once they reached the front door. “Your keys? Phone?”

Scott felt in his pocket, feeling for them before he said, “Yep, all here.”

“Okay.”

They stared at each other then. The silence stretched between them. There was no more of the earlier heat, though. Now all that remained was a secret they could never share with the world.

“Can I kiss you one last time?”

Ilya shook his head. “No, never again. Not unless Shane says it’s okay.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “Fair.”

“It was fun. We had a good time. Shane and I.”

“Yeah,” Scott smiled. “I did too.”

Ilya let a smile linger on his lips, his eyes dropping to Scott’s once, quickly, before he pushed the door open.

He waved at Scott as his car drove out of his driveway, almost two hours after Troy and Harris. When he connected his phone to the Bluetooth system, he noticed he had three missed calls from Kip.

He took a deep, steadying breath, waiting for the gate to open as he dialed.

He was still looking at Ilya's now unmoving form through the rearview mirror when Kip answered.