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A shiver runs itself down Shane’s spine as he wakes, the light press of lips between his shoulder blades forcing the hairs along the back of his neck to stand on end. He hums quietly at the touch, tries to pull away from it but strong arms around his waist keep him close. Those lips press again, moving towards his neck. Shane exposes himself and soon teeth come baring down, eliciting a breathy moan as static travels down towards his already hard cock.
He blinks softly against the light that filters in through the slats of the blinds, taking in his surroundings through bleary eyes, taking a moment to remember that he’s in Ilya Rozanov’s house, in his bed, and, even more surprisingly, in his arms. He yawns as he raises a hand to wipe the sleep from his lashes while Rozanov continues to kiss and lick his neck. Eyes cleared Shane tries to shift but those strong arms keep him on his side.
“Roz,” Shane says sleepily, reaching a hand back to tangle his fingers between soft light brown curls. Rozanov hums quietly, pulling his hand back to lay it heavily along Shane’s hip where he grips him tightly as he rolls his hips, pressing his erection against Shane’s ass as he relents from Shane’s neck and lets his forehead rest between his shoulder blades. “Fuck,” Shane moans as he presses himself back into it, making Rozanov groan in approval.
“Is now ‘next time?’” Rozanov murmurs into Shane’s skin, sending another hair rising inducing shiver down his spine. Shane tries to remember what that’s about, what they had talked about last night, but then Rozanov’s hand moves from his hip to cup him through his sweats and suddenly his thoughts are lost.
“Next time?” Shane huffs as Rozanov moves to sink his hands down the bands of Shane’s sweats, wrapping a hand around Shane’s length, making his breath stutter. Shane rolls his hips into his fist, chasing the building heat that grows along his spine as Rozanov grinds against his ass.
Rozanov kisses Shane’s shoulder, his neck, lips trailing until his lips brush against Shane’s ear. “I really want to fuck you,” he breathes and suddenly Shane remembers.
“We can’t,” Shane starts, a moan getting caught in his throat on a particularly good squeeze, his hand in Rozanov’s hair going taut. Rozanov hums in disagreement as he pulls his hand away to start tugging Shane’s sweats down towards his thighs as he pulls the arm that had pillowed Shane’s head out from underneath him. Without preamble, Rozanov pushes along Shane’s shoulder until he’s on his stomach, trapping Shane’s cock between himself and the mattress as Rozanov grinds his arousal down against Shane’s ass, eliciting a groan.
“Can’t or won’t?” Rozanov asks, kissing Shane’s back, his shoulders to his neck until he reaches his cheek.
“Aren't Rose and Svetlana somewhere around the house?” Shane tries as his hands grab at the pillow beneath his head, his knuckles going white as he humps down into the mattress.
“No, Svetlana texted me asking if we wanted coffee from shop.”
“Wait.” Shane tenses, fighting through the haze of need coursing through him, suddenly remembering his lie and, fuck, he really should have thought his plan out better. “Where do they think I was last night?”
“Here, with me.”
“With you?”
“Mhm.”
“They know I was with you?”
“Relax, Hollander, is king size bed, they won’t think anything of it,” Rozanov says confidently.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
Shane scoffs. “When are they getting back?” Rozanov only shrugs. Shane hesitates defeatedly, feeling wound up with need, for a release. He wants to be spread open and fucked, wants to be enveloped. “God, I want to,” he admits with another desperate roll of his hips.
Rozanov seems to sense Shane’s hesitation through his words so he stalls his movements as he presses a kiss along Shane’s shoulders with a quiet chuckle before pulling away. “I can stop.”
Against his better judgement Shane reaches a hand back to stop Rozanov from pulling away entirely. “I don’t want you to stop, we just can’t go that far.”
Rozanov hums in consideration. After a moment he uses his knees to push Shane’s thighs closed. “Keep your legs together.”
“What are you–” Rozanov leans across his bed to get to his bedside table where he pulls out a small bottle of lube, making Shane’s brows pinch together. “Rozanov.”
“Don’t move,” Rozanov says evenly, the sound of the bottle cap opening rings loudly throughout the room, sending a chill down Shane’s spine that has him white knuckling the pillow he lays his head on.
“What are you doing?” Shane shifts, pulling his thighs apart marginally with the movement but Rozanov’s knees force them closed again.
“I said keep your legs together.”
Shane hisses at the sudden cool liquid that spills on his thighs, sending a wave of goosebumps down his legs. “You asshole, that’s cold,” he mutters.
“Sorry,” Rozanov says around a smirk Shane can practically hear as he tosses the bottle to the side. Shane rolls his eyes, shifting to get up on his elbows to turn and look over his shoulder but Rozanov’s fingers gently card through Shane’s hair, stopping his movements. Shane leans into it, suppressing a shiver at the way Rozanov’s blunt nails gently scratch into his scalp. As suddenly as it had started, it stops. Without warning Rozanov shoves Shane’s head back down, side of his face buried into the pillow. “I also said don’t move,” he breathes against Shane’s ear, sending coursing hot want down Shane's spine that goes directly to his dick that remains trapped against the mattress like the rest of his body.
Rozanov shifts his weight behind Shane, working to get out of his sweats. “What are you– oh, oh,” and suddenly Rozanov’s cock is slipping between his thighs, hard and hot as he blankets himself over Shane’s back, taking hold of Shane’s hips as he grinds down into the tight space.
“Is this okay?” Rozanov asks, his movements slow, questioning. Shane can’t find his words as his hips are pushed down, making him hump the mattress with every push and pull of Rozanov’s hips, that heat of want building with each roll of their bodies, sending pulses of static out towards his limbs. This shouldn’t feel this good, should it? he thinks, his jaw dropping open at a particularly good thrust, forcing a desperate moan out of him. “Hollander?” Rozanov tries, his movements slowing, hesitating.
“Don’t stop,” Shane practically begs, one hand reaching down to grab Rozanov’s thigh that forces his own closed, the other grabbing the bed sheets, the material twisting in his grasp. Shane feels something shift in the air as Rozanov pulls his hips back and snaps forward, the sound of skin hitting skin slowly filling the room with each thrust.
Rozanov finds a bruising pace, one that’s fast and steady, hard and deep, one that sets Shane’s skin on fire. “Want to be inside you,” Rozanov groans, his forehead pressing against Shane’s shoulder blades, his cross skating back and forth over Shane’s spine with the rock of their bodies, the bed starting to creak with it.
“Next time,” Shane promises, feels the dip and pull of Rozanov’s cock between his thighs, his movements ever so slowly becoming erratic with each passing moment. He feels completely lost and at Rozanov’s mercy, trapped underneath his body and his hold and, god, it feels good as he continues to get fucked into the mattress.
“Still okay?”
Shane nods, at least he thinks he does as he flexes his thighs, can feel them protesting from the hold and position they’re in but he refuses to let himself relax. “Yebat',” Rozanov moans, a steady stream of Russian escaping him and it only encourages Shane to keep steady, to remain tight, to be good for him, and, jesus, when did he get so close? Rozanov lets go of Shane’s hips and holds himself up with his forearms on either side of Shane’s body, changing his position and pace to something that makes Shane start to shake.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” Shane moans, his grip on Rozanov’s thigh near bruising, his hand threatening to cramp from his grip as he pulls the bed sheets tight. Rozanov moans into Shane’s skin as he continues fucking into his thighs, the headboard squeaking and threatening to bang along the wall. His thrust starts to falter as he starts to reach his peak.
“Gonna come for me, Rozanov?” Shane taunts as he tries to tighten his thighs, to push back into every thrust, to make Roozanov come undone. Shane can feel Rozanov nod along his back and it makes Shane’s body thrum with delight knowing he’s made Ilya Rozanov succumb, unable to articulate words, all because of his thighs. Shane chases that feeling building deep in his spine, desperate to make himself come too, but as good as it feels, it’s not enough to bring himself over the edge.
“Oh, god, Hollander,” Rozanov gasps as his movements finally stall. Shane feels warmth spread between his thighs and onto the bed sheets beneath them, can’t help but moan something bordering on pathetic knowing he’s gotten Rozanov off just from this. Rozanov doesn’t immediately stop, continues to fuck into Shane’s thighs until it becomes too much. He collapses into Shane’s back when it’s over, chin over his shoulder, spent. Shane thinks he can feel his heart beat through his chest onto his back.
Once he’s sure Rozanov is done, Shane finally lets his body relax, tries to get every tight muscle in his body to soften. Now that Rozanov has reached his peak, Shane can’t help but focus on the pulsating need that is his aching cock. After taking a grounding deep breath, Rozanov pulls away, trailing his lips down Shane’s back, slowly making his way down until he reaches the base of his spine.
“Hm, turn over,” Rozanov hums, not without a quick squeeze of Shane’s ass. Shane hisses as he turns away from the mess they made, the friction from the mattress leaving his dick pink, balls tight, body on edge with the need to come. Rozanov pulls Shane’s sweats off before bending over and blowing cool air at his head, making him twitch with a gasp.
“Rozanov,” Shane begs, spreading his knees wide as Rozanov settles between his legs, arms around his thighs, hands resting on Shane’s hips.
“What do you want, Hollander?” he says quietly, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Please,” he tries, fingers reaching to tangle with Rozanov’s who gives him a reassuring squeeze as he places a kiss to his hip.
“Because you asked nicely.” Rozanov licks the head of Shane’s dick, then his shaft before licking a stripe from the base back up to the tip. Shane moans in relief, his tightly wound body finally going lax as Rozanov takes him into his mouth and starts to work him towards his own orgasm. Shane honestly expected to come the second Rozanov started to give his cock any attention, had been on the verge since the beginning, but instead he merely stays on the cusp, legs trembling, toes curling, with no definitive end in sight.
Rozanov pulls off after a minute, his lips plush and spit slick. Shane arches his back, a frustrated groan escaping him. “What are you doing?” he asks, pulling his hands free to sit up on his elbows, looking down at Rozanov who frees one of his arms from around Shane’s thigh to squeeze at his balls as he lays his head along his thigh, other hand starting to stroke Shane lazily.
“I was thinking,” Rozanov starts, letting the fingers he has on Shane balls trail down towards his ass, slow. “Can I touch you here?” he asks, and suddenly his fingers are there, feather light. Shane honest to god whines at his touch, feels himself clench over nothing as Rozanov continues to jerk him off.
“Fuck, I don’t know,” Shane mutters, conflicted, grabbing at the sheets on either side of his hips into his fists.
“Just my fingers, I promise,” Rozanov murmurs, kissing Shane’s knee, his inner thigh, then his hip until he reaches the head of his cock, all without taking his eyes off Shane. It takes a few seconds of Shane worrying his bottom lip before he finally nods. Something shifts in Rozanov’s stare, making white coursing hot want spread throughout Shane's body. Rozanov motions for the lube that sits beside Shane, which he passes along easily. With deft hands Rozanov coats his fingers in it and Shane watches as he lowers his hand, fingers disappearing beneath him. “You ever played with your ass before?” Rozanov asks, using the tip of his wet finger to circle Shane.
“Jesus,” Shane mutters, falling back and hiding his face behind his hands.
“Well?”
“No– I mean, yes. I have… a thing.”
Rozanov kisses the space between Shane’s length and his hip, considering him. “What is it?”
“I have a– dammit, I have dildo,” he admits, feels warmth creep across his cheeks at the admission.
“Shane Hollander has a dildo, wow,” Rozanov says around a chuckle. Shane groans in annoyance, is about to tell him to shut up but suddenly all the air escapes his lungs as Rozanov swallows him down again just as a finger presses inside of him. Shane shudders on a breath as Rozanov sinks into him, slowly, tentatively. It’s intrusive but it doesn’t feel bad, but like all the other times Shane has tried by himself, it isn’t any particular good either.
Still, Rozanov’s mouth is enough this time and Shane feels himself start to reach his peak again. It’s comfortable, for the most part, enjoyable. Shane can feel his orgasm slowly start to build, finally, is about to say as much when it happens. Rozanov crooks a finger and Shane rushes to grab onto the bed sheets as white hot static races up his spine.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” Shane moans, can’t stop himself from pushing down into Rozanov’s hand as he continues to stroke that spot that makes Shane start to shake. Rozanov hums approvingly, sending vibrations through his dick that makes Shane want to buck forward, leaving Shane feeling conflicted, doesn’t know what good feeling to chase. Rozanov answers for him by pulling his mouth off.
“Feels good?” he asks, but by the tone of his voice he already knows the answer.
“Great, feels– oh my god, don’t stop.” Shane tugs at the bed sheets as Rozanov sinks a second finger inside of him, doesn’t relent from that spot as he takes Shane back into his mouth. Shane feels it creep up on him slowly, from the base of his spine then up and out towards his limbs, the need to come. He takes soft curls between his hands and lets it build and build, his entire body going tense. “Rozanov… Rozanov.”
Rozanov hum encouragingly and it’s enough. Shane comes with a shout, can’t help but thrust his hips forward and chase that high as Rozanov swallows him and his come down, fingers deep and unrelenting. Shane trembles through it with a flood of curses pouring out his mouth until it becomes too much.
“Rozanov,” he hisses, giving his hair a small tug. Rozanov takes the hint and lets Shane slip out of his mouth as he slowly pulls his fingers free. He kisses Shane’s hip and starts to crawl up, lips trailing up and up until he gets to Shane’s face and tries to kiss him.
Key word, tries.
Shane works to catch his breath as he turns his head away from Rozanov who freezes. “What? Are you okay, did I hurt you?” he asks, pulling away, genuine concern in his voice. Shane shakes his head, brows pulling together as he takes Rozanov’s face in his hands. He pulls him down and kisses his forehead, then his cheek, but still refuses to kiss his lips. Rozanov scoffs, a chuckle escaping him. “Hollander?”
Shane’s face pinches in apology. “We haven’t brushed our teeth….” he finally admits.
Rozanov blinks once, twice before devolving into a fit of laughter as he collapses on top of Shane, burying his face into his neck. “I suck your dick and put my fingers up your ass, but you cross line at kissing without brushing teeth?”
“Shut up and get off me so we can.” Shane tries not to break, but when Rozanov starts to shake with another wave of laughter Shane can’t help but join him.
“Ilya, we’re back!”
“Shane, I ordered your usual!”
Both men freeze, their laughter immediately dissipating at Svetlana and Rose’s voices. They don’t sound close to their door, but still, as much as Shane loves and adores Rose, she’s not known to knock. Rozanov rolls off of Shane, reaching around the bed to gather his and Shane’s sweats. He tosses Shane his pair before jumping into his own, reaching again to take the bottle of lube to put away into the dresser.
“Brushing our teeth, be out in a minute,” Shane shouts, rolling off the bed to slip into his pants. Shane grabs his shirt from the bedside table while snapping his fingers to get Rozanov's attention, pointing towards the mess they’d left behind on the sheets. Rozanov moves to remove them while Shane rushes to the bathroom to actually start brushing his teeth.
Rozanov enters the bathroom to place the sheets into the hamper before he catches Shane’s gaze in the mirror and winks. A crooked smile pulls his lips as he takes his own toothbrush and starts to go through the motions. It’s then that the bedroom door opens and the sound of footsteps follow them into the bathroom, the smell of coffee entering the room before they do.
“Good morning sleepy heads,” Rose lilts, leaning into the frame of the door opposite Svetlana who mirrors her. Rozanov hums in acknowledgement while Shane spits into the sink, rinsing his mouth and toothbrush before placing it down and turning to face the other two.
“I smell coffee,” Shane sighs, stepping out of the way so Rozanov can wash off.
Svetlana nods, tipping her head. “We also got some food if you guys are hungry.”
“Starving,” Rozanov says, straightening up and turning on his heels. Svetlana pushes off the door’s frame, beckoning for them to follow her with Rose close behind, their fingers intertwined. Rozanov lags behind, motions for Shane to go ahead of him, so he does. Shane is about to step past the threshold of the bedroom door when he loses his footing as he gets yanked back by the back of his shirt, Rose and Svetlana disappearing around the door.
“What the hell–” Shane starts but Rozanov spins him on the spot, taking his face in his hands and pulling him in for a kiss. Shane hums in surprise, his hands coming up to take Rozanov’s wrists as he deepens the kiss, minty tongue sliding against Shane’s, earning him a quiet surprised moan. Another second and Rozanov is gently pushing Shane away, a smirk pulling the corners of his lips at Shane’s caught expression, can’t help but lean back in for one final chaste kiss.
“We brushed our teeth,” is all Rozanov says as he turns Shane around again and gently pushes him forward, but not without a gentle grab of Shane’s ass on the way out. Shane leads the way with a slightly dazed gaze, his lips buzzing, chest thrumming with… something he can’t place. Like all the buzzing and weird feelings Shane has come to associate with him and Diego, he decidedly ignores it and starts the rest of his day.
