Archive of Our Own

“It’s fine, Shane.” 

It most definitely is not fine. 

Jessica sighs and stretches, the soft lines of her naked body elongating with the movement, the fabric of her bedsheets bunching up beneath her. Her hand is still between her thighs. Shane’s come is drying on his own stomach. 

That’s the… what? Fifth time now that Shane hasn’t been able to get her off during sex, and the third time that they’ve ended up finishing themselves off next to each other. 

Fuck. 

Shane stares at the ceiling, watching the sun catch a few dust motes in its rays where it filters in through the gaps in the blinds. He feels nauseous.  

They haven’t been dating long, maybe a couple of months at this point. They’d sort of just… fallen into it. Met at the campus bar, she had flirted a lot and asked for his number. They'd gotten coffee not long after that, and Shane had realised how much they actually had in common, and the conversation flowed easily. It’s been great since then, really. Well, aside from the sex. 

Shane just can’t quite work out what he’s doing wrong. It should be simple. Instinctual. Just like how birds somehow know to fly south for the winter, Shane’s dick should just know how to do the thing that biology intended it for. Right? 

Wrong. That’s not how sex works, Shane has come to realise after much trial and much more error, plus copious amounts of online research that should have definitely flagged his IP address for suspicious activity by now. At the very least, their college Wi-Fi supplier must think he has a crippling porn addiction. The videos weren’t even that helpful, all close-up shots of the woman’s face or her breasts or her pussy. They never really focused on the guy, much to Shane’s annoyance. Not that he’s looking at the dude for any reason other than to work out mechanics, of course. 

God, this is humiliating. How do people do this shit?

“I have an evening class, anyway. Should probably get ready.”

Shane blinks, emerging from his thoughts. “Oh, right, yeah. I’ve got practice, so…” 

They clean up in relative quiet, though Shane’s head could not be any louder. Jessica presses a kiss to his lips at the door. 

“Stop overthinking it.”

Shane sighs. “Sorry, it’s just…”

“And stop apologising. It’s fine.” 

It’s really, really not. 

Later that night, Shane arrives back at the dorm to find a sock on the bedroom door and the lewd sounds of moaning and skin slapping leaking under the threshold. 

“Christ,” he mutters. 

Ilya has a girl over. Again. 

She must be the third this week, and Shane is getting pretty tired of falling asleep on the couch waiting for his roommate to finish. Literally. 

Usually, he can just shove his headphones in and try to block it out. But tonight, with his wounded pride still twinging in his chest, the sound of the headboard slamming into the wall seems louder, taunting him. It punctuates every moan, every high-pitched Oh, yes! that bleeds through the plasterboard, as if to drive home the point even further. 

Shane can’t fuck girls like Ilya fucks girls. He can’t make them moan like that, scream like that. Can’t make the headboard knock against the wall in that punishing rhythm or make the bed springs squeak like they’re about to snap. 

Whatever it is Ilya’s doing, he’s obviously doing it right. And Shane is doing it all wrong. 

It’s not like Shane hasn’t thought about asking him for advice. Fuck, he’s come close. If there’s anyone that seems to know a thing or two about sex, it’s Ilya, and he’d no doubt be able to give some useful pointers. But Shane has never had the balls to, mostly because it’s fucking embarrassing. 

At this point, though, the embarrassment of his girlfriend having to finish herself off next to him for a fourth time far outweighs the potential embarrassment of asking his roommate: Hey, can you teach me how you fuck, please? 

Shane is already planning out the script in his head when he hears their bedroom door open, then the hushed sound of voices and a feminine giggle. A minute later, the front door to their building clicks shut. 

When he pushes into their room, Ilya is shirtless – wearing sweats, at least – and busy throwing a handful of tissues into their waste bin. 

“For the millionth time, please go fuck in their dorm room.”

Ilya looks up at that and grins, running a hand through his hair. It’s damp at the roots, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat across his torso. Jesus, how hard were they going at it? Shane swallows at the thought. 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Ilya smirks. “Your jealousy is stinking up the room, Hollander.”

“I’m not fucking jealous,” Shane huffs, throwing his gym bag down and stripping off his shirt, launching it over to his hamper. 

“Oh, right, I forget you have girlfriend. Hardly see her. You never bring her around, poor girl.”

Shane rolls his eyes and balls up one of his gym socks, throwing it in Ilya’s direction. He ducks with a wicked grin and it hits the wall behind him. 

“That’s ‘cause we fuck at her place, because I’m a respectful roommate, you ass.” 

“Wow, so cranky,” Ilya chuckles, flopping back onto his bed and pillowing his arms behind his head, biceps bulging with the movement. It’s ridiculous how muscular he is, for someone who doesn’t play sports. Shane tries not to think about it. “Clearly the sex today wasn’t so good for you, ah?” 

Shane feels his face go warm and turns away to disguise the creeping flush, busying himself with unpacking his gym bag. “Fuck off.” 

“I take that as a yes.” 

Is it that obvious? 

Shane can’t stop thinking about it in the shower, the way Jessica had gently pushed him away and asked if she could watch him jerk off. He knew it was her way of saying ‘this fucking sucks, please just let me take care of myself,’ she was just too polite to actually say it. Which was arguably even worse than just straight up telling him he sucked. 

The shower shuts off with a screech and Shane dries himself off haphazardly. Maybe he should just bite the fucking bullet and ask Ilya. Even if it means weeks of teasing and stupid, crass jokes and did you fuck her like I told you to, Hollander? Did she come yet? 

It would be a necessary evil. For Jessica’s sake. 

Shane pulls on his underwear and sweatpants and steels himself before going back out into the bedroom. He finds Ilya laid back on his bed, scrolling on his phone, one arm still propped up behind his head. He looks up briefly as Shane crosses over to his own side of the room, eyes giving him a once over and then flitting back to the screen. 

The bed frame creaks when Shane sits down, hands clasped in his lap. 

“I need your help.” 

Ilya peers up again and raises an eyebrow. He pauses the video he was watching. “With?” 

Shane fidgets. “I, uh… I can’t– I mean, I can but I’m not very good– Fuck, listen, just– Ineedyoutohelpmewithsex.” 

A pause. A long pause. Ilya blinks a couple of times, mouth twitching at the corners. Then, “You need me to help you with… sex?” 

Shane squeezes his eyes shut like the words are physically painful to hear repeated back to him. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Yeah. It’s Jessica, I can’t… do it right.” 

“Wow,” Ilya laughs.

“Shut up.” 

“It being sex, yes?”

“...Yes.” 

Shane hears Ilya’s bed squeak and looks up to see him rolling over onto his side, leg cocked up as his eyes roam over Shane’s face, a mischievous glint in them. 

“And you need my help with what, exactly?” 

Please don’t make me spell it out, you dick.  

Swallowing his pride, Shane decides to just get it over with. “Look, you’re, like, president of Fuck City, alright?” Ilya snorts at that, but says nothing. “And clearly the girls you’re with seem to… enjoy themselves. I just need some pointers, I guess. Tips on what they like, how they like it, or whatever.” 

The words hang between them for a few seconds while Ilya takes them in. The clock on their wall ticks softly. 

“You need me to teach you how to fuck your girl, Hollander?” 

Shane groans. “I guess. Yeah.”

God, this is so ridiculous. He’s going to laugh and you’re never going to hear the end of it and–

“Sure, fine, I will help you.” 

Shane’s head snaps up. “Really?”

Ilya shrugs, expression as nonchalant as ever, like he’s just been asked for help with a class project. “For your girlfriend’s sake. No woman should suffer whatever it is you are putting her through.”

“Alright, fuck you,” Shane gripes, scooting back on the bed until he’s resting against the wall. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Oh, yeah? Show me what you do to her.” 

Shane blanches. “What?”

It’s Ilya’s turn to sit up now, mimicking Shane’s position against the opposite wall. He leans over and grabs a pillow, then tosses it across the gap between their beds. It lands in Shane’s lap with a soft thump. 

“Use this. Show me how you fuck her.” 

Shane feels heat flood his cheeks. “I– What? No. I’m not gonna fuck a pillow in front of you.” 

“Christ, I am not saying get your cock out, relax.” Ilya rolls his eyes. “Just show me your moves. I will give tips.” 

Humiliation claws up Shane’s throat and turns his ears hot. Is he really about to grind against a pillow in front of his college roommate just to prove a point? The image of Jessica pushing him off flashes behind his eyelids, followed by the image of some random girl with her legs thrown around Ilya’s waist as he thrusts into her. It makes something stir in the pit of Shane’s stomach. Competitiveness, maybe. 

“Fine.”

Shane shoves down the shame and gets on his knees, positioning the pillow beneath his body, between his thighs. He can feel Ilya’s eyes burning into him, watching from across the room as he lounges back against the wall. When he glances over, Ilya gives him an encouraging nod, smirking a little. 

Shaking his head, Shane tries to ignore the absurdity of the situation and instead focuses on the pillow, trying to imagine Jessica in its place. It’s pretty fucking difficult. 

Still, he gets himself situated, hands clasped around the pillow roughly where her waist would be. “Okay, so I just…” 

He starts thrusting shallowly, hips canting into the plush material as he tries to find his rhythm. It’s awkward, and definitely not an accurate representation of how it would usually look, but he tries his best. 

Ilya whistles. “Jesus Christ, I feel like I should apologise to all women on your behalf.” 

Shane stutters to a halt, flushing. “It’s not me, it’s the fucking pillow. I can’t get a good angle, okay?” 

“Okay, sure, is pillow’s fault. Poor Jennifer.”

“Jessica.”

“Eh, whatever,” Ilya says, waving a hand dismissively. “Fine, no pillow, then. Demonstrate on me instead.” 

“Ha-ha. Very funny. Just forget it,” Shane mumbles, yanking the pillow from between his legs and throwing it back across the room. Ilya catches it out of the air. 

“No, I’m serious, I want to help. Show me. You can pretend I am Jessica,” he says, laying back and shoving the pillow under his head, star-fishing on the sheets. “See, I am her. Now you do your weird humping thing and I will show you how to not suck at it.” 

Despite himself, Shane laughs a little at the sight of him laid out and waiting. “This is so stupid.”

“Yes, yes, very stupid. Now come here and fuck me, Shane.” 

Shane’s gut coils at those words, but he puts it down to the weirdness of the situation. Ilya is just fucking around, like he always does. 

He pushes off the bed and crosses over to him, climbing atop it gingerly and settling between his splayed legs. Ilya cranes his neck up, peering down the length of his body at Shane as he debates on where to put his hands for this next part. 

“You make her wait like this every time?” 

“Shut up, asshole.” 

Shane shuffles forward, and Ilya brings his knees up to accommodate, letting Shane’s thighs slip beneath his until their hips are almost touching. Almost. 

It’s the closest Shane has probably ever been to his roommate, and this is certainly not how he’s ever imagined it – Ilya laid out beneath him, shirtless and grinning, sweats hanging low on his waist, smirking while Shane prepares to simulate fucking him. 

Jesus.

“Should I…?” Shane hovers his hands over Ilya’s waist. 

“Do you fuck her hands free?” he snorts. 

“No.”

“Okay, so fucking touch me then, Hollander.” 

Shane huffs in exasperation, fingers twitching before coming down to rest in the grooves just above Ilya’s hips. His skin is warm against Shane’s palms, still a little damp from his earlier… activities. Shane blinks away the image. His eyes refocus, and Ilya is looking at him expectantly. 

Right. 

He adjusts again, and in turn Ilya lets his knees fall open a little further. Shane pointedly ignores the way it makes his sweats stretch across his hips, pulling tight over his dick. Because not looking at a guy’s dick while you act out fucking him makes it less gay, yeah, sure. 

“Do I, uh, start?” 

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Unless you want me to fall asleep waiting for it.” 

Shane takes a deep breath, then pulls his hips back and thrusts forward gently, being careful not to bump up against him. He does it once, then twice, then a few more times. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“What? I’m doing it.” 

“You are fucking the air.” 

Shane sits back on his heels, hands still clasped around Ilya’s waist. “Well, I’m not gonna grind up against you, am I?” 

Ilya looks at him like he’s a fucking idiot. Maybe he is. “How will I know how you are fucking her if you aren’t going to show me properly? Right now you are fucking her with the same strength as a light breeze.” 

“You seriously want me to hump you like a dog?” 

“No, I do not want,” Ilya says, “but this is for the good of women everywhere, so yes, I will let you. Be grateful, not many people have had the honour.” 

Now, it’s Shane’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright, stud.” 

Ilya grins and settles back into the pillows again. “Okay, go again. And do it properly this time, don’t waste my time.” 

For a moment, Shane imagines the scenario in which someone were to find out about this, and then wonders how far away he’d have to move to make sure nobody ever saw his face again. He’d never live it down. The thought makes him hesitate, debating whether to just call this whole stupid thing off. But then Ilya is nudging him with his foot, and Shane tells himself that nobody will ever know, and this is all for the good of Jessica, so it’ll be worth it.

He leans forward again, bracing himself over Ilya’s body, and rocks forward. This time, their hips bump together, and Shane feels the soft line of his dick press against Ilya’s ass. It’s only for a second each time, his hips refusing to linger there more than is strictly necessary, but it’s enough to get an idea. 

Fuck, this is so gay.

Still, he persists. For Jessica. Pulls back and thrusts against Ilya again, and again. For Jessica. 

“Okay, stop,” Ilya says, putting his hand against Shane’s chest. 

Shane pauses. “Was that bad?” 

“Extremely.” 

“Fuck,” Shane sighs, hanging his head. “What am I doing wrong?”

Ilya contemplates for a moment, then says, “Maybe is better if I just show you. Get on your back, come on.” 

Reluctantly, Shane switches positions with him. He gets on his back, as Ilya said, rearranging the pillows under his head until he’s satisfied. It’s not an unfamiliar position for him, really, considering how often Jessica insists on riding him instead of doing missionary. Probably because he fucking sucks at it. 

Except it’s not Jessica between his legs this time. It’s Ilya. 

“Okay, lesson one,” he announces, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Lots of girls like a pillow under here,” he says, gesturing to his tailbone, “makes it feel better. Better angle for you, better for her too.” 

Shane nods. Pillow under the hips. Got it. 

“Lesson two. If she is flexible, make use of it.” 

With that, Ilya reaches down and hooks his hands under Shane’s legs. A soft whoosh of air leaves Shane’s lungs and he feels Ilya push against his hamstrings, folding his legs up until his knees are practically kissing his ears. 

The expression on Ilya’s face, ever amused and unruffled, morphs into dumb surprise. 

“Shit, Hollander, you do yoga or something?” 

Shane blushes, trying not to think about how his entire (clothed) ass is on display, sweats bunching up around his balls. He looks up at Ilya from between his own thighs. “Yeah, it’s, uh, good for hockey. Keeps me limber.” 

Ilya wets his lips and then schools his face back into his usual smirk, momentary shock wearing off. “Okay, this is good. Will help with the demonstration.”

He continues where he left off, eyes flitting over Shane’s body every so often in a way that doesn’t feel entirely innocent. 

“If your girl can do this, no need for pillow. But I wonder if she is as… limber as you. Is very impressive,” he says with a grin. 

Blame it on the fact that he’s currently cosplaying a human pretzel, but Shane’s stomach is twisting itself in knots. The teasing isn’t helping, not when he’s got his legs up over his head, exposed and vulnerable, and Ilya smirking down at him like that. It’s embarrassing enough without all the theatrics.

“Enough already, we gonna do this or what?” he huffs impatiently. 

Ilya barks out a laugh. “Is this what Jessica says to you? Or do you just skip all of the foreplay and get it over with?” 

Shane goes quiet. 

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me…” 

He tries to avoid eye contact. 

“No foreplay?” Ilya gasps dramatically. “Gospodi, Shane. You are insult to sex.” 

“Fuck off,” he mutters, trying to look anywhere but at Ilya. It’s very difficult, considering that he’s pinned underneath him, but he tries anyway. “She doesn’t seem to like all that shit, so we don’t bother.” 

“Either you have only girl in the world who doesn’t like her pussy eaten, or you are terrible at that also.” 

“Guess I need a lesson in that, too, huh?” Shane says, petulant. 

“Yes. That is next lesson. This first.”

Ilya rolls his hips, and Shane gasps softly as their bodies connect. 

“When you fuck, you do this,” he says, hands gripping Shane’s thighs as he rocks forward and bumps up against the swell of Shane’s ass in a uncoordinated, robotic manner. “Is like getting fucked by tin man.” 

His hips move back and forth repeatedly, each thrust hitting squarely against Shane’s perineum. It doesn’t feel… bad. But it doesn’t feel good, either, and Shane can imagine how it would feel getting fucked like this. He’d probably want to get on top and take over, too. Sorry, Jessica.

“Yeah, okay, I get it,” he grumbles. 

Ilya chuckles. “This is how she will actually like it.” 

Just like that, his pace changes, his posture adjusts. He leans further over Shane’s body until his chest is flush with the back of Shane’s knee and Shane’s heels are resting in his shoulders. It feels reminiscent of one of Shane’s physio stretches, except the context for this is far less innocent. And now, with the new closeness, Ilya’s groin is pressed firmly up against Shane’s ass. Christ. 

Instead of pulling back all the way and pumping forward, he begins with just rolling his hips, rutting against Shane as he talks.

“Need to move smoothly, like a wave, get her used to it first.” 

Shane can feel Ilya’s body heat through their clothes, points of contact that begin to warm as he rubs against him. His fingers grip and squeeze the meat of Shane’s thighs, guiding Shane’s legs further back like he’s testing just how much he can take.

“Don’t go too hard, too fast. Let her open up a little.”

He rocks into him again, the chain around his neck clinking softly, swinging in the space between their bodies. Shane tries to focus on it but his eyes keep drifting to the fullness of Ilya’s pecs, his nipples, the way his shirtless body leans into Shane’s legs. 

“Is not so much in and out…” 

Shane can barely fucking focus. He can feel the subtle bulge of Ilya’s cock rubbing against him through their clothes. It’s not hard, but it’s there and it’s so distracting, each drag of it over his ass sending his brain into overdrive. That, combined with the pressure in Shane’s lower body from holding such a contorted position, is slowly lighting up his body from the inside. 

Oh, fuck. He’s getting hard. 

He can feel it creeping up on him, a gentle building of tightness and heat in his abdomen that flares every time Ilya rocks against him. Each pretend thrust jostles his balls, nudges Ilya’s dick right up against a particular spot that feels just good enough to have his body reacting. 

Shane closes his eyes, tries to imagine sick puppies or his grandma or the way sour milk tastes. Nothing works. The feeling of his roommate rubbing his clothed cock against his ass is getting him hard. 

“Feel good?” 

Warmth floods Shane’s belly. “W– What?” 

“Does it feel good? You think Jessica will like this?” Ilya says, calm and collected. 

“I– Fuck, I guess,” Shane says, voice cracking with shame. His cheeks are on fire. His dick is half-hard.

Ilya’s hips continue to roll against him in lazy, firm strokes. “You want to try again?” 

The idea makes Shane feel dizzy. His body is betraying him, responding to Ilya in ways that there’s no casual explanation for. He should just push him off now and end this fucked-up roleplay scenario while he still has some dignity left. 

“Yeah, fuck, okay.” 

The feeling rushes back into Shane’s legs as Ilya lets them down, thankfully diverting some of the blood away from his semi-stiff cock. If Ilya notices the slight bulge when Shane sits up, he says nothing about it. He just flops back onto the mattress with a contented sigh.

Shane wriggles between his legs again, nibbling his bottom lip with his teeth as he tries to stop overthinking it. It’s purely educational. Your body just doesn’t know the difference. If you think about Jessica, it doesn’t make it so bad. Right?

Still, he just can’t quite believe what they’re doing. This is his roommate. And he’s on his bed pretending to fuck him. It feels like it should be some perverted dream that he must have slipped into after falling asleep on the couch to the sound of Ilya’s latest hookup. But, no, it’s all very real. Shane staring down at Ilya and Ilya looking right back, like they’re playing a game of chicken. 

Ilya’s watching him like he almost expects Shane to jump up and bolt out the door any second. Careful, testing. There’s also something else in his eyes as well, but Shane can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. Just a smouldering intensity that makes Shane’s skin prickle and warm. 

He’s come too far and thrown too much of his pride out the window to stop now. He’s doing this for Jessica, after all. No other reason. 

“Now I am not as flexible as you, but…” 

The interruption rouses Shane from his thoughts, just in time to get an eyeful of Ilya snaking his hands around the backs of his knees and lifting his legs in the air. He doesn’t get them nearly as high as Shane had, but, god, the sight is lewd enough as it is. If it’s anything close to what Shane looked like a moment ago, it’s no wonder Ilya’s eyes had struggled to stay on his face. It’s utterly obscene. 

His sweats pull impossibly tight over the curve of his ass, highlighting every line and groove of it, of his… Fuck. The outline of his dick is even more prominent now, practically staring Shane in the face. And even though it’s soft, it looks absolutely massive. 

By some miracle, they’ve managed to go nearly a whole year without seeing each other’s dicks. Given the fact that they’re roommates with very little privacy from each other, on top of Ilya’s propensity for having sex every other night, anyone would have thought they’d have had a run-in by now. But they’ve managed to avoid it so far. 

And now Shane is staring, bug-eyed, between their bodies, gawping at his roommate’s soft cock and wondering how big it would be if it were hard. 

He needs to say something soon, otherwise he’s going to be frozen here forever. 

“Don’t pull a muscle,” he forces out humourlessly, voice strained, eyes firmly locked on Ilya’s face and nowhere else. 

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Yes, sorry, Mr. Yoga Instructor. You want me to stop and stretch or do you want to be good at sex?” 

“Fuck you,” Shane bites back, pushing back on Ilya’s thigh out of spite and breaking into a half-smile when he hisses in pain. 

“Ah, yes, fuck me, preferably quickly.” 

Yeah. The sooner, the better. Better because it will be over quicker, and they can pretend this never happened. And Shane can stop thinking about the way Ilya’s dick is sitting against his thigh. 

“Where do you usually touch her when you fuck?” 

Shane’s body tingles with heat at the question. “I dunno… her hips, I guess?” 

“You touch her tits?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Fucking hell, Shane,” Ilya groans. “You are Mormon, yes? Only explanation.”

“No, I’m just not telling you every little detail about my girlfriend’s boobs, alright? What’s with the third fucking degree?” 

Ilya looks up at him, exasperated. “You want help, answer the questions. Now, grab my tits like you would touch her.” 

Shane’s blush just about reaches his hairline. His hands are planted by his sides, but his fingers twitch at the suggestion. The round globes of Ilya’s pecs are probably big enough to fit in his palms without a problem, maybe not as big as Jessica’s but certainly just as full and soft. 

“Come on, you wanted to know what girls like. Girls like their tits played with, Hollander.” 

It’s enough to goad Shane on. He reaches out, slotting his arms between Ilya’s legs and placing his hands on his chest. Ilya's nipples brush the sensitive skin of his palms, sending a shiver travelling up his nerves. Just as he predicted, they’re as supple as any girl’s breasts. 

“That’s it, she will love that. Squeeze them when you fuck her, touch her nipples. She will go crazy.” 

Experimentally, Shane runs a thumb over one of the stiffened buds, and feels Ilya tense up beneath him, breath whooshing past his lips as he exhales. Shane watches his facial muscles twitch almost indiscernibly.

“Yes, like that,” he encourages. “Now, remember what I said. Less back and forth, more wave motion, okay?” 

Shane becomes aware of his hips again, as if suddenly remembering the rest of the body that’s attached to his hands. The hands that are now gripping Ilya’s muscular chest, the hot, smooth skin tickling his fingertips. 

The first thrust is too shallow, hips only barely skimming Ilya’s ass cheeks. Shane grits his teeth and readjusts, determined to get it right, shuffling further forward until their hips are only centimetres apart. 

The second thrust lands better, solidly against Ilya’s body, but it’s way too clumsy and Shane cringes as his dick gets squashed in the process. 

He tries to remember the way Ilya had felt as he moved, tries to recreate that same fluidity with which he used his hips. He can feel his eyebrows furrowing as he focuses, no longer even paying attention to the way their bodies feel against each other, so caught up on perfecting the mechanics of it all. 

“You are thinking too much,” Ilya comments from below him. 

“Shut up,” Shane growls, closing his eyes to block out the distracting way that Ilya is watching him. 

“You are stiff like a corpse,” he continues in that infuriatingly mocking tone. “All this yoga and for what?” 

Shane sets his jaw and tries again. Getting his hips to cooperate is like trying to make concrete bend.

“Ugh, here.” 

Shane gasps and jerks forward when he feels Ilya’s hands land on his ass with a slap. His eyes fly open and his hips stutter forward, a bolt of tingling sensation shooting right into his belly. 

“Like this,” Ilya says, gripping Shane’s ass to direct him, tugging at him and manoeuvring him as he pleases. 

He pulls Shane’s hips up and into him in a scooping motion, holding him close so that Shane's dick is effectively trapped between their bodies, sliding up and down the length of Ilya's ass. Repeating that a few times, in and up and back and in again, he moulds Shane into a rhythm of his own making.

The feeling on the tip of Shane’s cock is amazing, caught against the fabric of his sweats as it drags against the firmness of Ilya’s muscular body. It’s so good, pleasure zinging through his system. It’s also terribly, terribly bad. 

Almost immediately, Shane’s cock starts perking up again. Warmth pools low in his shaft, spreading up the length like his dick is a water balloon slowly being filled, close to leaking. The prospect of that sends cold dread shooting through him. Leaking into his sweats while pressed up against his roommate like this would be downright fucking mortifying. But the idea of that alone isn’t enough to chase away the pleasure he’s currently experiencing. 

Ilya pulls him forward again and ruts Shane into himself. The force of it sends Shane pitching forward, and he has to tighten his grip on Ilya’s pecs to stop himself from collapsing altogether. 

“Yeah, that’s it, squeeze her tits like that, Shane. Make her feel good.” 

Shane feels pre-come bubble out the tip of his dick and seep into the front of his boxers. 

He’s fully hard now, there’s no hiding it, no denying it. Ilya isn’t letting up, and the constant stimulation is almost unbearable. Shane wonders how he hasn’t fucking noticed yet. 

His head is swimming, swirling with pleasure and then coming straight back around again to abject terror when he remembers what the fuck they’re doing. And Ilya isn’t stopping. Why isn’t he stopping?

Shane has to bite down on his lip to keep from whimpering. His breaths come like shallow gulps, whistling through his nose on the exhale as he clamps his teeth into his bottom lip to hold back any incriminating noises. It’s almost impossible, with how good it feels. It shouldn’t feel this good. 

“Come on, fuck her harder, Hollander. Can’t have me do all the work, ah?” Ilya goads, almost like he knows how much Shane is holding back. 

His fingers are twinging erratically around Ilya’s pecs, massaging them under his palms as he tries to find something to ground himself with. It proves to be of no use, only serving to make Ilya bite back noises of his own with each squeeze, noises that travel straight through Shane and into his cock. 

He tries rocking his hips on his own, but it only makes him shudder with how much it feels. His dick is throbbing now, bumping up against Ilya’s ass with every stroke, sliding between his clothed cheeks. It’s too much. Way too much.

Shane can feel his stomach muscles beginning to clench, signalling his impending orgasm. He needs to stop. He needs Ilya to stop. Why the fuck hasn’t he stopped?

“Okay, okay!” Shane yelps, yanking himself backwards. “I get the idea!” 

His hands rip themselves away from Ilya’s chest, his body reeling back as he plants himself on his heels. Ilya loses his grip on Shane’s ass and his hands flop down to the bed. 

“Woah, okay,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Relax.” 

Shane’s heart is thundering in his ears. “I’m fine. I just… need a minute.” 

Ilya props himself up on his elbows, hair flopping into his eyes as he appraises Shane and the way his hands are curled protectively in his lap. 

“Ah, you are hard.” 

“I’m not hard!”

Ilya chuckles. “Is okay, natural body response. Don’t blame your dick for knowing hot ass when it sees it.” 

Shane feels like his whole body is aflame with embarrassment, the insides of his cheeks stinging from how hard he’s chewing on them. “I have a girlfriend, remember, asshole?” 

“So what? You think your dick is only trained to respond to her? Like a dog?” Ilya laughs. “It does not know the difference. A body is a body, Hollander. All the same to your dick.” 

“It’s weird, alright?” 

Ilya huffs and digs his foot into Shane’s side. “Shane. Is fine, okay? Is not just you.” 

That makes Shane’s head raise up so fast he goes cross-eyed. “What?” 

“Me too. I told you, is normal.” 

His eyes flit to where Ilya is gesturing down his body. Sure enough, he’s not just fucking around. He’s hard. And it’s just as big as Shane imagined. Oh, god. 

Shane tries to swallow and finds his mouth dry. “Oh.” 

“Yes,” Ilya chuckles. “Oh.” 

“I–” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

The room goes quiet for a few seconds, save for the sounds of their soft breathing. They should stop. Shane’s seen enough, learnt enough. He can go back to Jessica and work on his technique and they’ll figure something out eventually. That would be the smart thing to do. 

But curiosity rakes its claws down his back like a feral cat, sinking them in like hooks and not letting him go. There’s a part of him that wants to see this all the way through. For Jessica. 

The other part of him is just plain fucking stupid horny. 

“No,” he says, finally. “Teach me everything. I wanna know.” 

Ilya’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Yeah?” 

Shane nods, firmly. “Yeah. What’s next?” 

“Okay, so next lesson. Foreplay.” 

Ilya rolls over and climbs up the length of the bed, reaching out to open up his bedside drawer. He rummages around for a moment, knocking things out of the way in his search for something. Shane takes the opportunity to grab a pillow out from under him, sitting back with it in his lap. Sure, they may have established that being rock hard right now isn’t a big deal. But he still doesn’t want to advertise the fact he’s pitching a tent in his sweats. 

Eventually, Ilya turns back around with the object that he seemed to have been looking for.  

It’s a fleshlight. A transparent fucking fleshlight. 

Shane gawps. His dick twitches, and another bead of pre-come swells at his slit and drips into his boxers.  

Ilya notices his expression with a chuckle. “For our intents and purposes, this will be Jessica, yes?” 

“Very objectifying, but okay,” Shane says, eyeing the crude-looking toy with a mixture of arousal and trepidation. He’d be lying if he said most of that feeling wasn’t coming from imagining Ilya using it. Christ, what’s wrong with him?

“You want to learn how to make her feel good or not?” 

Shane can only nod in response. 

“Okay, so shut up and watch.” 

And watch he does. 

Ilya takes the fleshlight in his hand, angling it so the entrance is facing directly toward Shane. He tries not to grimace at how uncanny it looks, the anatomy lifelike enough but the realism offset by the clear material. It’ll at least be good for educational purposes, he supposes. 

“Do you finger her?” Ilya asks bluntly. 

“Sometimes. She… usually does that part. Says I’m clumsy.” 

He nods his head solemnly like he was expecting that answer. “You know how to find the G-spot?” 

Shane makes his best ‘come-hither’ motion with his fingers, mimicking the diagrams on the Wiki How article he’d seen. 

“Less stabbing motion, but yes,” Ilya smiles. “Similar to that.” He takes his free hand and brings them to his lips. “Let me show you.” 

Shane watches him as he sucks his middle and ring finger into his mouth, taking them all the way to their base. It’s merely for a moment, his cheeks hollowing as his tongue swirls around them enough to get them sufficiently wet, but as he withdraws them with a pop, Shane feels slightly lightheaded. 

Jessica. Right. The name rings through his subconscious like a shrill bell. Shane tries to remain focused on the purpose of all this. Not on the way that Ilya’s fingers glisten with his spit. It’s becoming increasingly difficult. 

“You want to tease her first, like before. Get her ready for it,” he begins to explain, bringing his fingers to the entrance of the fleshlight. “Just the outside first, no diving straight in.” 

The tips of his fingers begin to circle around the hole lazily. Hypnotic, languid circles. Shane feels himself becoming transfixed. Ilya glides his fingers up the lips ever so slowly, spreading his digits in a V-shape and rubbing up and down the sides in gentle motions. The saliva on his fingers leaves a shiny trail over the silicone, making it glisten. After a few strokes, his fingers meet again at the hood, where Shane knows the clit would be. He circles the pads of his fingers there for a moment. 

“Please tell me you at least know this is the clit?” 

“Fuck you, asshole, yes,” Shane manages to get out. His dick is pulsing between his legs distractingly. 

“Good.” 

Ilya draws slow loops around that spot a few more times before sliding down, hooking his fingers and dipping into the entrance. His fingers glide into the hole with ease. 

“If you warm her up enough first, she will probably be wet enough to take two first try.” 

Shane’s mouth is parched, arid. He nods. He can’t find the words to reply. 

“Listen to her body, of course. Go at her pace. Then, when she takes them easily, you can start opening her up more.”

Shane watches him start to thrust his fingers shallowly into the toy, the spit on his fingers making the slide smooth and easy. He spends some time like that, curling his fingers and spreading them apart, working the toy open as Shane watches his movements through the transparent silicone. 

The heat in Shane’s belly comes back full force now, accompanied by a tingling that ignites under his skin and crawls up his back. He grips the pillow tighter, shoves it further into his lap. Ilya’s fingers slide and thrust into the toy, and Shane can hear his own ears ringing.

“What about your mouth?” he hears himself say, distantly. 

Ilya grins wickedly. “What about my mouth?”

Electricity tingles in Shane’s limbs. “You said you’d show me how to eat her out.” 

“Oh, yes, well…” Ilya withdraws his fingers from the fleshlight, the sucking sound utterly obscene as they come free. He wipes the wetness on the leg of his sweats. “Will be a little more difficult to show you like this.” 

He’s right. The angle wouldn’t really work if Shane wanted to see the entrance and Ilya’s tongue at the same time. Unless… 

“I can hold it for you.”

Ilya’s eyebrows quirk up in surprise, his eyes glinting. “Oh? Yes, okay, good. You be Jessica, then. I will be you, but better, of course.” 

Shane doesn’t even have it in him to chirp back, because Ilya is handing him the fleshlight and making him hold it still between them. Then he shifts closer until their knees are touching.

“Hold it up here, like that, yes. You get a good view this way,” he supplies, arranging Shane’s hands so he’s holding the toy at chest height, cradling it in his palm like he’s holding a fucking hot dog bun ready for filling. 

“Okay,” Shane can only croak in response. 

“I won’t be be able to explain much, so just watch, yes? Make notes like a good little student.” 

Fucking hell. Arousal licks up Shane’s spinal column and settles at the base of his skull, turning his brain into something less solid, less corporeal. He may as well be floating outside of his body at this point with how dizzy he feels. All the blood that should be in his head is in his shaft, and that, unlike his brain, is definitely solid. 

It’s not normal to feel this way about his roommate, he knows that for a fucking fact. He’s supposed to be getting tips on how to fuck his girlfriend, not getting off on the sight of Ilya fingering a fleshlight, the line of his cock visible against the seam of his sweats. But here he is, too far in to turn back and too turned on to know what the hell is right anymore. 

Ilya leans in, and Shane can smell the faint hint of his cologne beneath the musk of his drying sweat. He’s never really paid attention to the way his roommate smells before, but now the scent is all-consuming. Heady and rich. 

He starts with kitten licks, just a barely-there flick of his tongue against the puckered lips of the fleshlight. Like with his fingers, he starts around the entrance of the toy and works up, eventually reaching the hood and laving across it. 

“Usually I would kiss her thighs before this, tease her,” he murmurs against the toy between licks, “make her so wet waiting for my tongue until she is shaking and begging for it.” 

Shane’s whole body feels like it’s vibrating. Impressively, his hands remain steady. 

“Usually I hold her legs open, maybe put my hand here, on her belly.” He puts his hand on the pillow right above Shane’s lower stomach. Way too close to his fully erect cock. “You can use your thumb like this to pull the hood back, get to her clit.” 

His tongue flicks out again and over that spot, then his lips enclose around it and he sucks. Shane can feel his goosebumps prickling over his skin, hair standing on end. 

Ilya pulls back and licks over the silicone bud again, this time flattening his tongue against it and lapping over it in slow motions. He alternates between that and gentle kisses, faster licks, flicking his tongue over it in swift, side-to-side motions. Occasionally, his tongue will dip lower and slide into the entrance of the toy, and Shane watches with awe as the pink muscle of his tongue flexes and curls inside. It might be the hottest thing he’s ever seen. 

Ilya’s gaze is low, focused on the toy as he eats it out. But every so often he’ll look up at Shane to check that he’s paying attention. And every time it shoots a hot, tingling bolt of arousal straight into Shane’s cock. If he thinks about it long enough, he can almost feel Ilya’s tongue on him as if he were the toy, grazing over his slit, dipping into his entrance. The thought makes his breath catch in his throat, his own tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. 

Shane isn’t gay. He’s really not. But, god, he has never wanted to be fucked more in his life than right now. And not just by anyone, not even by Jessica with a strap-on so he can pretend that it’s totally chill and entirely heterosexual. No, right now all he can think about is Ilya. Ilya holding him down and doing things to him with his fingers and his tongue and… fuck. 

Maybe he’s a little bit gay.  

But Ilya’s not, and right now he’s treating the fleshlight like he was born to eat pussy, licking and sucking and making soft, breathy noises into the toy that Shane can feel reverberating in his palm, his hot breath ghosting against his fingers. Ilya brings his hand up, fingers curling around Shane’s own to guide the fleshlight closer to his mouth, and his touch makes Shane’s body jolt like he’s livewired. 

Shane can feel his dick practically pulsating in his sweats. He can see Ilya’s too, straining against the confines of his pants. For a moment, he gets the wild urge to reach out and touch it, palm him through the material, feel if he gets wet like Shane is right now. It takes everything in him to stay still. Hold the toy. Watch Ilya eat pussy and take notes. For Jessica. Right. 

Shane comes back into his body just as Ilya pulls away, a thin string of spit connecting his lips and the toy. It breaks, and that’s when Shane realises he may have been staring more intently than pure educational curiosity would allow. 

“Get all that?” Ilya prompts, voice slightly husky. 

He clears his throat softly, then a little harder. “Think so.” 

“Some girls like the clit played with a lot, others get very sensitive. Just have to learn what they like. And you will know when they like it,” Ilya grins. “If their mouth doesn’t tell you, their body will.” 

“Oh?” Shane breathes. 

He wipes a stray bead of spit from his chin. “They get so wet. Sometimes their legs squeeze around your head until you cannot pull away. Sometimes they pull your hair so hard it hurts.” 

The image of Ilya between a pair of thighs, smirking and sucking until the body beneath him is trembling with overstimulation… Shane’s cock throbs.  “Sounds painful,” he manages. 

“I like it rough.” 

Shane shudders, stomach coiling tight. He can’t help it. Can’t stop thinking about Ilya fucking someone rough and hard. Fucking him. God. 

The next words out of his mouth are probably a mistake. They’ll probably ruin their friendship, if the rest of the night hasn’t taken care of that already. But Shane’s in too deep, drowning in the scent of Ilya’s cologne and the thick air that’s laden with their breath, the heat of their bodies. He’s got to see it through. For Jessica. 

“Can you show me how you– how I should fuck her when she’s on top? With the toy? Please?” 

Ilya sits back, the lines of his stomach drawing tight, the outline of his erect cock so evident and distracting. “You want me to show you with this?” he says, taking the fleshlight from Shane’s hand. 

Shane is fully aware that they wouldn’t need the toy for that. He could have Ilya show him with a pillow. Straddle Ilya himself and have him simulate it like they had earlier, clothes on. Hell, Ilya could just fuck the air and it would still get the point across. From the look on his face, Ilya is thinking the same thing. 

There’s no reason for Shane to ask him to get his cock out and fuck this stupid fucking toy in front of him. No reason other than he really, really wants to watch him do it.

He gulps, wets his lips again. Looks at the fleshlight in Ilya’s large, strong hands. Looks up at his face. Down to his lap. “Yeah. Please?” 

Ilya lets out a breath that kind of sounds like a whispered curse. “Okay. For learning purposes, of course.”

“Right. Yeah. Totally.” 

Totally.

For the second time tonight, Ilya opens up his drawer and rifles through it while Shane just watches him dumbly, still clutching the pillow over his crotch rather uselessly. The thoughts in his head are loud and jumbled, rattling around in his skull, nothing coherent coming to the surface other than Ilya is going to fuck the fleshlight and I am going to watch. Maybe all of this really is a dream. Shane tells himself it is to feel better about what’s going to happen next.

Ilya’s hand reemerges from the drawer with a half-empty bottle of lube, which he tosses on the sheets next to the fleshlight as he scoots up toward the headboard. 

“You want tips for cowgirl, yes?”

Shane nods. 

“Okay. Lay here, like this, so she can hold the headboard if she needs to,” he says, exemplifying what he means by situating himself amongst the pillows. “Give her something to hold on to when you fuck her properly.” 

“Yeah,” Shane utters, too busy looking at the way Ilya’s muscles ripple as he moves. “Okay.” 

“Sure you want–?” 

“Just do it. Please.” 

Ilya chuckles at the unabashed urgency in Shane’s voice. Shane will find time to be ashamed about it later, but right now he just needs Ilya to get on with it and not give him a chance to back out. 

When Ilya slides his sweats off over his hips and down his thighs, Shane’s cock leaks so much pre-come that he feels it soak all the way through his boxers and run down his shaft in rivulets. His entire dick pulses, flooded with heat that turns his stomach to jelly. 

Ilya’s dick comes free and falls against his stomach with a gentle slap. It’s fucking huge and thick and hard, and Shane can’t make himself look at anything else. He feels shameless. He doesn’t care. 

Kicking them off over his ankles, Ilya discards his pants on the floor and then readjusts his position. He bends his knees up ever so slightly, feet planted on the mattress, and Shane gets an impeccable view up his body, between his splayed legs. He looks like a piece of fucking art, his body something that someone would spend months painstakingly carving into marble or painting on canvas. It shouldn’t be something for Shane’s greedy eyes. And yet he takes his time appreciating it all the same. 

“Okay?” 

Shane is white-knuckling the pillow. “Yep.” 

“Relax, it’s just my cock, Hollander. I know is big.” 

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Shane doesn’t even deny it. 

“Want me to start?” 

He just nods again. 

Ilya retrieves the fleshlight and uncaps the lube with his other hand, drizzling a generous amount into it. Shane watches the thick, viscous liquid pool into the toy and run down its hollow interior with fascination. He imagines that’s how Ilya’s come would look when he– 

Shane’s pulse thrums.  

“Okay, at this point you will have got her nice and wet,” Ilya narrates, swiping up a trickle of lube from the lips of the toy and using it to stroke himself. 

The sound of his voice is fuzzy in Shane’s ears, dulled by the sound of his heartbeat thumping erratically. His eyes are glued to the motion of Ilya’s hand, working over his length as he pumps himself. It looks like something out of a porno scene, and yet it’s happening right in front of Shane’s eyes, in his dorm room, on his roommate’s bed. Ilya is jerking himself off in front of him. 

“Should have stretched her good enough on your fingers,” he continues, unaware of or decidedly unbothered by Shane’s dumbstruck expression. “So you should be able to just slide right inside her.” 

With that, Ilya takes the toy and lines himself up at its entrance, and then pushes deep inside. Shane’s heart nearly falls out of his ass, his dick nearly jumps up into his throat. His whole fucking body goes numb. The sight of Ilya’s cock stretching the silicone, filling it up completely, visible enough through the clear material that Shane can see the way it flexes to accommodate his girth… it nearly makes him come then and there. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, unable to hold back. 

“Mm,” Ilya sighs in agreement, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure at what must be an amazing sensation of pressure around his cock. 

“Is it tight?” Shane can’t stop himself from wondering aloud. 

“So fucking tight,” Ilya groans.

Mother of god. 

His stomach muscles twitch as he bottoms out, pausing there for a moment to collect himself. Then, he looks up and catches Shane’s eye, his pupils blown out and his jaw ticking. “Going to move now, okay? You better be taking notes, Hollander.” 

Shane is taking more than notes. He’s taking mental images that will last a fucking lifetime. Jessica doesn’t need to know, she only just needs to benefit from what these mental images will do to Shane in the coming weeks. 

Ilya plants his feet more firmly on the mattress, his free hand coming to grip his bent knee. The other steadies the fleshlight, holding it still as he slowly pulls out of it. His cock slides halfway out, lube dripping out of the toy and down his length, wetting the soft hairs of his pubes. He draws his hips back, spine arching ever so slightly, and then thrusts up. 

The sound of his cock pushing into the fleshlight is filthy. With every fuck of his hips up against it, it squelches and releases another dribble of lube over his cock. And when he pulls out, it sucks wetly, greedily drawing him back inside. 

Using his feet for leverage, he starts rocking up into the toy at a steady pace. The sounds get louder, mixed in with the gentle huff of his breath as he works into it. 

“Do this right and she will feel it so deep, I promise you.”

He drives his hips up harder, skin slapping against the wet silicone. Shane feels it in his stomach.

“Hold her hips and pull her back onto you, make her bounce on it.” 

His knees fall apart further, his thrusts growing more forceful. Shane is transfixed by the way his balls bob between his legs. 

“Touch her pussy, touch her nipples. Make her feel good when she rides you.” 

Shane is holding on to the last shred of his control for dear life. It’s a wonder he hasn’t torn the pillow with how hard he’s gripping it, now shoving it so hard against his aching cock that he can actually feel the friction against his sensitive tip. 

As he watches Ilya fuck into the fleshlight, hips pistoning upward, he finds himself doing the same. His hips twitch and jerk, rocking up into the pillow and chasing that buzz of pleasure that comes with every drag of the material. 

And Ilya is watching him do it. He’s watching Shane hump the pillow as Shane watches him fuck the fleshlight, and neither of them are stopping. Neither of them want to. They’re both getting off on it. 

Electricity crackles in the air between them. Shane can’t choose where to look, his eyes pin-balling between Ilya’s face, contorted in pleasure, his body, his hand around the fleshlight, his cock filling the toy up. His eyes, dark and blazing, watch Shane with rapt attention as he fucks up into the pillow, grinding into it with desperate little hiccups. Ilya’s gaze is suffocating. It’s so fucking hot. 

“Fuck, come here,” he grunts, slapping the mattress at his side. “Come show me what I taught you.” 

Shane doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles up the bed and flops down on his back next to Ilya. He shucks his sweats off with very little grace, barely getting them down to his knees before he’s shoving the pillow back over himself and rutting up into it. 

Ilya swears gutturally. “That’s it, fuck her like you mean it, Shane.” 

The whimper Shane lets out this time is loud, desperate. His feet chase for purchase on the covers, cloying for leverage to fuck up into the pillow and get the relief he’s needed all night. 

Between their frantic thrusts, the bed bounces and creaks. Their laboured breaths and moans mix together above the wet sounds of the fleshlight. 

“Just like that, give it to her,” Ilya grunts. “Make her scream for you.” 

Shane clasps the pillow so tight around his cock it’s almost painful, rubbing himself off on it like he’ll die if he doesn’t come. All the while, he’s watching Ilya drive into the fleshlight over and over, stretching it open on his cock and filling it up, and Shane imagines that it’s him instead. 

“Make her come on your cock, feel her squeeze you.” 

He’s so fucking close. And the way Ilya is bucking up, losing all control, it looks like he is too. 

“So fucking wet and tight.” 

Ilya spits the words through his teeth. All Shane can do is moan. He's on the edge, just a little bit more. It's right fucking there. 

“Come inside her, that’s it, Hollander."

Shane's vision starts to blur.

"Fill her up, come on, give her your come, Shane, fuck– mmm–”

Ilya cuts off with a strung out moan. His whole body shudders as he comes inside the fleshlight. 

Shane just about gets to see the way the thick, white ropes of it splatter against the silicone before his own orgasm hits him like a semi truck. His eyes roll back as his release shoots into the pillow, his muscles spasming as pure heat floods his system. 

“Oh my god, fuck, fuck, Ilya–” he babbles, head rolling back. The waves of his release send him far out to sea, almost dragging him under. He’s never come so hard in his life. 

Ilya lays panting beside him, still thrusting shallowly as his words spill out in an unbroken stream of consciousness. “So good, Shane, fuck, you are so good. So fucking hot.” 

Shane swims in ecstasy, punch drunk and delirious. The sound of Ilya’s breathing next to him gradually levels out, the two of them coming down from their high slowly but surely. 

As his orgasm subsides, Shane comes back to earth. And then it really hits him.

“Holy fuck.”

“Mm.” 

“I can’t believe we just did that.” 

Shane feels Ilya’s laughter before he hears it, the bed shaking with it. “Was your idea.” 

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut, the post-nut clarity truly beginning to kick in. “What the fuck was that?” 

The mattress dips as Ilya rolls onto his side, and Shane notes out the corner of his eye that he must have removed the fleshlight at some point during their comedown. He’s grinning, completely laid back.

“I showed you how to fuck a woman so good that it made you come. You are welcome.” 

“God, this is bad. I, like, cheated on her, Ilya.”

Ilya scoffs. “Jesus Christ, relax, Hollander. We did nothing. You jerk off next to me, I jerk off next to you. Is not cheating. Is… mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

“Fuck off with your big words and your–”

“Big dick?” 

“I hate you.” 

“I don’t think that is true,” Ilya says, a little softer, less teasing in his tone. 

Shane flops his head to the side to get a proper look at him. “Are we… still okay?” 

“What, you think I do all that and then tell you I never want to see you again? Fuck, I would fuck you right now if it weren’t for Jennifer–” 

“Jessica.” 

“Hollander.” 

Shane’s brain catches up a second later. Oh.

“You’d wanna fuck me?”

Ilya rolls his eyes, exasperated. “I have been fucking trying for months. Not my fault you are oblivious and stupid and think you are straight.” 

Shane blinks, not fully hearing the words that are coming out of Ilya’s mouth all that well. “But… I thought you liked girls… I–” 

“Yes, no shit. I also like men. Bisexual. I want to fuck you, Shane. Surprise, hooray, big news for you.” 

“That’s… a lot to take in right now.” 

Shane is still naked, clutching a pillow over his dick that is now covered in his rapidly-cooling come. Next to him, Ilya’s cock is on full display. Ilya. His roommate. Who just gave him the best orgasm of his life while teaching him how to fuck women. 

What the fuck.

“Okay, maybe start thinking small. Like what you are going to tell your girlfriend now that you are super fucking gay.”

Shane groans. “Not helpful. Not funny.” 

“Is fiiine,” Ilya sing-songs next to him. 

It most definitely is not fine.