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It’s a team+Harris only BBQ. Everyone’s full. A little buzzed. The team Sitting around in lawn chairs everyone split into smaller groups having different conversations.
Ilya nudges Luca.
“Film,” he murmurs without looking at him.
Luca, already suspicious “Why?”
“Because I am about to be very funny” Ilya winks
Across the circle, Shane is relaxed, one ankle over his knee, ginger ale in a glass with ice and a lemon slice, talking to Harris probably about something boring and responsible.
Ilya watches him like he’s stalking prey.
He leans over “Try your drink?”
Shane doesn’t even look at him, Just hands it over automatically, he’s used to his husband drinking from his glass or eating from his plate then complaining about his diet food.
Ilya takes the glass.
Pauses.
Reaches for a napkin.
And very deliberately starts wiping the straw.
Once.
Twice.
Slow, Dramatic.
Shane turns slowly “…What are you doing?”
“Trying the ginger ale,” Ilya says innocently, continuing to polish the straw like it offended him personally.
Shane blinks, takes the glass back, drinks from the straw, and gives it back to Ilya who smiles innocently then wipes it again.
“Why are you wiping it?” Shane asks, confused.
“Hygiene.”
Harris makes a choking noise.
Shane stares at him flustered “uh we’re married…we kiss all the time” he lamely argues.
“That is different.” Ilya says calmly
“How.” Shane's starting to get pretty annoyed at this point
“Just is.” Ilya shrugs, wipes again.
Shane’s eyes narrow, if Ilya is looking for a fight, he might actually get one he’s about to open his mouth again when notices a glance from Ilya to Luca… huh
Luca looks nervous, he’s holding his phone like he’s taking a picture or a video…he notices the way Ilya is barely keeping his face straight.
And something in him shifts.
Oh.
It’s a game.
Well two can play at this game.
Shane stands feeling unusually confident, then walks the two steps over until he’s in Ilya’s space.
The team goes quiet.
He takes the glass from Ilya’s hand, and drinks this time slowly, while firmly maintaining eye contact then hands it back.
Ilya stares back and lifts the napkin again to wipe.
Shane catches his wrist, not aggressive. Just firm.
“You’re unbelievable” Shane says calmly.
Ilya grins. “For wanting ginger ale and being orally hygienic?”
Shane takes the glass with his other hand and sips from the straw and replies “it’s just funny” Handing the glass back to Ilya “You didn’t seem so concerned about hygiene this morning.” challenging.
some of the guys gasp, some laugh awkwardly, and others loudly
Ilya’s eyes slightly widen and he almost breaks… almost. trying not to smile too wildly he persists and lifts the napkin again to wipe.
There’s a beat. And then Shane leans in, takes the glass, and drinks deep.
Then he holds Ilya’s jaw, firm but not rough and closes the distance between them before Ilya can react, putting his lips on his husband’s and spitting out the drink inside his mouth.
then he pulls back, he quietly commands “Swallow”.
Ilya freezes for half a second, completely blindsided and then instinct takes over, and he swallows obediently, blushing and mouth agape.
For a split second, it hits Shane he just did that in front of his entire team.
It thrills him.
It terrifies him.
He refuses to let either show.
He smiles instead “There,” he says. “All better.”
The entire yard explodes. “OH SHIT...”
Someone yells, “Jesus Christ, Hollander!”
Troy is shaking from laughing so hard.
Harris is muttering about never being able to unsee this
Bood looks like he’s regretting all the life choices that lead him to host the team.
Then Luca says “I’m posting this.”
Shane instantly shuts him down “Absolutely Not.”
But Ilya is not paying attention to any of that; he still looks stunned and then slowly he grins.
Oh.
Oh, that was bold. That was hot.
His prank backfired in the best way possible.
Ilya cheeks still flushed glances at Shane. “Can we… go home now?” His voice is low, barely hiding the warmth curling through him.Shane a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh? Already?” he asks, letting the words hang. Then, with a shrug he announces “we’re staying for dessert. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”
Ilya groans, heart thudding, a sharp mix of frustration and anticipation sparking in his chest. He’s so turned on.
Then Shane goes to sit back down re-starting his boring conversation with a traumatized Harris but catches Ilya's gaze, and that familiar flip in his stomach curls tighter.
Normal conversations flow back with some slight teasing from his teammates, so he laughs at lame jokes, nods at stories and answers questions, all while simmering inside.
Every casual touch, every glance from Shane, feels like fuel.
By the time the dessert plates are cleared, Shane hasn’t cracked a grin but the corner of his mouth says it all. He knows. He’s enjoying this. Every single second of Ilya’s delicious torment.