Archive of Our Own

The whole day has been keeping them separate. Practice more intense than usual, pushing themselves past their limits, quick on the ice, hockey sticks flying in the air to send the puck into its home.

Two pecks on the lips, and that was it. Professional and brief, even while the whole team knows about them. They were too tired to even have proper sex, Ilya sucking Shane off the night before, and then dozing off right after, ignoring his own hard dick.

So when they finally get back home together, Ilya can tell Shane has been missing him. It shows in the simplest gestures. Shane brushing off an invisible thread on his clothes, keeping himself close to Ilya as the team stands in a circle and listens, looking at Ilya from the side for longer than necessary, gaze dropping to his lips whenever they’re face to face.

Ilya has learned to understand how that deprivation affects Shane. Worse mood. Slower speed. Spending too many precious minutes in his own head. Controlling everything like the world outside him will fade away if he doesn’t keep his grip on it.

It’s Ilya’s duty to help him, to get him out of that headspace, even if Shane doesn’t yet admit how much he needs it.

First thing after they return to their house, Ilya silently leads them to their bed, gently helping Shane to take his street clothes off. Shane complies without question, holding onto Ilya as he is stripped to a plain cotton t-shirt and a pair of gray boxers, resting on the pillows after.

Ilya wraps his hand around the nape of Shane’s neck, the spot radiating warmth. He pushes his tongue inside his husband’s mouth, and Shane responds immediately.

He’s tucked next to Ilya’s side as he just lies there on the mattress, sucking on his tongue greedily, swapping spit. It’s so wet and sloppy that Ilya completely loses himself in it, mouth open for Shane to work with.

He knows what that hunger usually leads to, he doesn’t even have to say it out loud. When Shane gets like this, it means he wants more tonight. And if his throat is relaxed the way it is now, uncontrollably drooling into Ilya’s mouth, he’s already started daydreaming about sucking Ilya off.

“Ilya?” Shane calls out, predictably. Ilya expects him to make a remark about him already being hard, or ask him to do something in particular tonight. His heart sinks when, instead, Shane murmurs, “I’m tired.”

Ilya’s brows knit together as he looks down at him. “We can go to sleep if you want,” he suggests carefully.

“No.” Shane shakes his head dismissively. “Not sleepy tired.” A pause between his words. “I miss you,” he says, quiet.

“You have me now,” Ilya reassures and brushes a strand of hair behind Shane’s ear.

“Not enough.” Shane scoots closer and hides himself in the crook of Ilya’s neck, inhaling the mixed scent of sweat and shampoo. “Take me out of my head,” he whispers, barely audible. “Please. Just do whatever you want to me.”

Oh.

Ilya feels his breath leave him.

He had suspected that Shane feels this way, drained not from the endless practices and routines, but from the lack of Ilya taking care of him. He just hadn’t realized it had been this bad.

“I need you,” Shane adds and hugs Ilya closer. “Make it quiet, please.”

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know…” Shane admits truthfully. “Whatever you’ll give me.”

Ilya locks eyes with him, pushing him to say it out loud.

Shane noticeably gulps before mumbling, “Use my throat—use me.” He blinks at him hazily. “Just don’t make me think about anything… Please?”

And who is Ilya to say no to that?

He would do anything for Shane.

He’s quick to get up, leaving Shane on the bed with an intrigued look. His feet stand firmly in the middle of their bedroom. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything yet, and that leaves Shane speechless.

“Раздевайся,”Strip Ilya says, firm with his request. “Need you naked.”

Almost shyly, Shane’s fingers grip the hem of his t-shirt, and he pulls it up and over his head. His chest glistens with the same familiar flush, proving to Ilya just how much he wants this, how much he needs Ilya to tell him what to do.

Ilya nods toward the fabric that only attempts to hide the tent on Shane’s crotch. “Boxers too.”

Shane chews on his bottom lip and spreads his legs wide. He tugs down, slowly, until his underwear is removed. He’s completely naked while Ilya is still clothed, all sweet and blushing.

Ilya loves this part the most.

Where Shane teases him with his soft eyes, so bare and open, asking him to do whatever he is in the mood for tonight. It frays his patience, makes it impossible to hold on for too long. But being married to someone like Shane—caring, smart, and attentive—he’s been long gone in that addiction and he’s never getting out of it.

“Hands and knees on the floor,” Ilya commands, clear for Shane to recognize. “Now.”

Shane is fast to obey.

He scrambles up off the bed and plants his feet onto the wooden floor. With his head slightly bowed down, he squats and sits himself down on all fours, exactly where Ilya wants him to be, looking like a fucking dog.

Ilya has had this idea for a while, and he could never be sure what exactly Shane’s reaction would be. But he would love to have it—a little reminder of how needy and desperate his husband gets for him.

Suppressing a grin that already touches the corners of his mouth, he flicks his attention to the phone that lies on the cabinet. He silently picks it up and opens the camera app.

And… Ilya’s plan worked. The sex tape has taken its place.

Shane’s brows shoot up in surprise when he hears a recording button being pressed. “Are you going to film me?” he asks.

“Do you mind?”

Shane shakes his head, already crimson with the realization.

“Good,” Ilya affirms. He looks down onto the screen to make sure Shane’s whole bare frame is visible. “I want to have a memory of this.”

Shane acknowledges it, something in his eyes changing. A smile shows on his red lips, and Ilya notices it.

“You love that, yes?” he asks, just to tease, just to press. “That you’re going to be a slut? Letting me film you while I use you?”

Shane nods. Ilya’s tsks and tilts his own head, wordlessly telling Shane that he’s supposed to vocalize his answer out loud.

“I do,” Shane breathes out after a few seconds. “I love it,” he admits. He’s still too far away, still too unreachable in their own room. Ilya wants to fix that.

“Crawl to me.”

He holds up his phone, capturing the embarrassment that burns Shane’s neck as he puts one hand in front of him, like he’s testing it. Pre-cum beads at the tip of his semi-hard cock. It tells Ilya everything he needs to know.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he encourages. “Be good for me.”

A whimper goes past Shane and he finally starts moving. One palm on the floor, then the knee, crawling to Ilya like an obedient puppy. The screen of the camera catches the way Shane’s dick hangs between his thighs, leaking and becoming harder with each command. He makes his way through a few feet of distance before settling right in front of Ilya, still looking down at the floor.

Ilya refuses to touch him for now. “Смотри на меня.”Look at me

Shane exhales shakily before setting his focus up, meeting Ilya’s own hungry gaze. His brown eyes are so hazy, blown and unfocused with subspace that inevitably takes over him when Ilya bosses him around.

“My knees hurt like that,” he complains quietly, probably hoping Ilya will give him a light pass for that.

Ilya clicks his tongue. “Did I ask?”

It shuts Shane up.

Ilya stands, his erection creating a visible bulge on the outside of his sweatpants. And when he doesn’t tell Shane what to do and where to look, he finds his eyes glued to his covered dick.

“So dumb for me already,” he murmurs, voice low and husky from the desire he has to keep calm from. “Just want a cock in your mouth?”

“Please,” Shane begs.

“Not yet.”

He watches the way Shane’s lashes tremble with each inhale, his mouth already gathering saliva like he’s starving, palms loose and lost at his sides. He’s so pathetic like this, waiting for Ilya’s instructions, holding back his loud whines.

“Такой красивый,”So pretty Ilya says, because he has already had a million chances to find out how much him talking in Russian turns Shane on.

He reaches one hand down and draws it to Shane’s chin. His fingers cup the skin of his jaw that is already warm with expectation. Shane instantly melts into it like a kitty, almost purring in his hold. “Tell the camera, зайчик.”bunny

“What?”

“Скажи, ‘Я самый красивый. Только для Ильи.’”Say, ‘I’m the prettiest. Only for Ilya

Shane smiles before repeating, “Ya samyy krasivyy. Tol'ko dlya Ilyi.” The words are slothful on his tongue, but he’s getting better at it.

“Умница,”Good boy Ilya praises him. “I think you deserve a reward for it.” Without setting his phone down, he gets rid of his t-shirt in one pull. He brings the camera to Shane’s face and manages to capture the way his eyes glint with pure need as he watches Ilya’s bare abs. “You can touch now.”

Eagerly, Shane sits closer, if that’s even possible, his knees not far away from Ilya’s feet. His instinct to nuzzle and smell overtakes the rest, so he brings his nose to the tent in Ilya’s pants, feeling its weight and relishing it.

Ilya lets him have his time with it, knowing just how much it calms Shane down.

Eventually, Shane pulls back and looks at Ilya’s middle, ignoring the camera lenses as if they’re not even there. Ilya catches him staring at the hairs that disappear in the waistband of his sweats and the inked sentence underneath them that says, “IT WON’T SUCK ITSELF” that Ilya got tattooed half a year ago.

“God, I fucking hate this stupid tattoo,” Shane says, and licks his lips anyway.

“Ah huh, you seriously expect me to believe that?”

“Don’t care what you believe.”

Ilya huffs in amusement. “You’re just a brat with no manners, huh?”

Shane rolls his eyes.

“Kiss it,” Ilya says. “Kiss my tattoo. And stop acting like a spoiled bitch.”

Shane leans and presses his mouth to the first syllable, then does the same thing to each following letter, leaving a trail of drool behind.

“Fucking slut,” Ilya grits out. “That’s all you think about, don’t you? Always doing what I say? Having no say in any decisions?”

“Yes—” Shane stops himself. There’s a brief pause before he breathes out a small, “Yes, captain.”

It makes Ilya’s brain fucking short-circuit.

“Fuck.” It’s like Shane knows what buttons to press, even when Ilya is in charge. “You think you deserve my cock for that?” he asks. “For teasing like this?”

“Yes, captain.”

Ilya wants to fucking ruin him for it.

“Take my pants off,” he instructs. Shane’s hands are on him in no time. He hooks his fingers in the waistband, almost quivering with the rush. “Slower,” Ilya says, but Shane only fumbles with the fabric again. “Slower, slut.”

A whimper goes past Shane’s throat when he hears it.

Ilya’s sweatpants are pooling at his feet now, the only coverage left is a pair of tight boxers that leave barely anything hidden. “Underwear too. And don’t you dare be so impatient.”

He is sure Shane’s movements are even more desperate this time, but he doesn’t comment. He wants to give Shane this. A moment where he doesn’t have to be responsible for anything, every motion guided by Ilya.

He hisses when his boxers slide down with Shane’s help. His dick springs out from the fabric and bobs in the air, almost hitting Shane with how heavy it is.

“Блять,”Fuck he mumbles, dazed at the sight beneath him. Shane sitting down on his knees, focused only on the cock in front of him, head swimming with overwhelm.

“So big, captain,” Shane whispers, eyeing it, staying at his place and not moving yet.

“Yeah?” Ilya brings his phone closer to Shane’s face. “You think you can fit it all in? Choke on this dick till you can’t breathe?” he taunts.

“Want to choke on it,” Shane agrees, looking up at Ilya. “Make me choke on it.”

Ilya’s fist curls around his cock, the length pulsing in his palm. Purposefully stretching time, he pulls the foreskin forward so it covers the tip and keeps it hidden. He guides it to Shane’s mouth but doesn’t let him take it fully inside, not yet.

“Suck on the foreskin first,” he says.

Shane brings his lips closer to the head and gives it an experimental lick first, like it’s his first time doing that. His eyes stay closed, and Ilya fucking hates it.

“Eyes up,” Ilya commands while Shane gently bites down onto the foreskin, sucking on the hood at the tip. “Don’t look away from me.” He proves his point by taking his cock away and slapping Shane’s cheek with it, ruthless but coordinated. Shane whimpers at the burn it causes, the spot quickly turning into a redder shade.

Ilya chuckles meanly. “You gonna listen to me now?” He squeezes the base of his cock.

“Please—”

“What a fucking whore,” he drawls, noticing a big blob of saliva on Shane’s gums. “Open up for me, зайка.”bunny

Shane’s lips part submissively, the soft pink surface calling for Ilya to smack his dick on. So, that’s exactly what he does.

He taps the tip of his cock on Shane’s lips, the wet sound of it echoing off the room walls. He does it repeatedly, smacking Shane’s lower lip until he moans. “You like that?”

Shane lets out a breathy, “Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?” Ilya stops his movements.

“Yes, captain.”

It makes Ilya hiss, just how easily possessiveness surges through him with those two simple words.

“Good fucking boy.”

Ilya’s cock hovers right above the line of Shane’s lips. He’s so pretty like this, looking up at Ilya and hoping to be used, hands politely clasped together in his lap.

“Gonna make you even prettier, baby,” he says, more to himself than to Shane.

He pulls the foreskin back to reveal the wet slit, Shane’s eyes almost sparkling as he patiently waits. Ilya smears the gathered pre-cum all over the surface of Shane’s lips, dragging his cock in circled motions. He uses the moisture like a lipstick, until the corners of Shane’s mouth become pearly white and glossy.

A whine escapes Shane when Ilya pulls back. “Just put it inside,” he pleads, breathing heavily. “Please.”

“Begging won’t work today, малыш,”baby Ilya warns, landing another slap on Shane’s cheek.

“Please, captain—want your dick so much,” Shane attempts again, his eyes glazed and hooded with lust. “Pozhaluysta,Please Ilya?”

“If I put it in your throat, will you finally shut the fuck up?” he asks, though he already knows the answer to the obvious question.

Shane nods.

His dick hits Shane’s forehead with a light smack that resonates around them. A smile grows on Shane’s lips at the feeling, like he’s revelling the weight, and a happy thrill goes up Ilya’s spine at the view.

“So stupid for it,” he whispers. “Look at my boy being so drunk for cock.” He points the camera at Shane’s blissed face. “Not a thought in that useless head.”

A small mewl leaves Shane.

“Yeah.” Ilya places a firm palm on the shaft of his cock, and it finally meets Shane’s waiting mouth in a proper manner. “Empty head and full mouth. All he ever needs.”

Shane’s tongue falls out and he instantly laps up and follows a thick vein. His movements are greedy and rushed as he traces the ridge before dipping it into the slit, precise and pointed. Ilya groans sharply at the spark it sends, but manages to hold himself up on his feet.

Shane doesn’t forget about the underside, and wets that place too, leaving Ilya’s dick shiny with his spit. Then, his mouth drops open for Ilya, inviting him.

So finally, he feeds his cock to Shane. Inch by inch, about half of it is consumed by him, leaving Ilya breathless. He stops right before it can hit the uvula.

Ilya knows Shane trains his throat, and has been doing it like a routine since before they got married. And now, Ilya gets a chance to help him with it, forcing him to take his cock to the root, as deep as it can go. He can test that ability over and over again, because Shane always offers him his full trust, and he is not going to waste it.

“Keep going,” he encourages. “Swallow it whole.”

Experimentally, another centimetre slides in. Hits Shane’s uvula. The first gag reflex makes Shane’s eyes snap shut as he whimpers, tensing up for a mere second and stopping.

“Ну же, милый,”Come on, sweetheart Ilya whispers, watching just how prettily Shane’s damp, crimson lips close around the shaft, about two-thirds of the length already in. He fixes a hand against his cheek, soothing the heated skin. “Breathe through your nose,” he reminds him.

Another centimetre.

Shane doesn’t gag this time.

Fuck.

He simply accommodates the size, his shallow breathing slowing down, the pained crinkles near the temples dissipating. In and out, he inhales through his nose, holding it all in, just like Ilya told him.

Ilya can nearly cum from this sight alone—his husband on his knees for him, mouth full of cock and lips sealed tightly around the hot, veiny girth. He cradles the back of his head and meets Shane’s gaze. “You ready?” he asks, not wanting to hurt Shane.

His husband nods in confirmation.

Ilya bottoms out.

A choked noise escapes Shane, and his palms fly up to Ilya’s large legs in panic, nails digging in.

“Hold it, baby. Hold it,” Ilya tells him, strict with his request even though he sees the struggle. “Warm me up first.”

Shane whines, and the sound goes right to Ilya’s stomach.

“I know is hard,” he says. The corners of Shane’s eyes bead with tears, his face going redder from the lack of oxygen, the airflow being cut off. “But you can do it. Show them how you take me, малыш.baby I know you can.”

He watches Shane struggle with rapt attention, saliva gleaming around his stretched mouth as he gets used to the pressure, so well-trained and obedient.

Holding him steadily, Shane adjusts around the length and gulps it down, pushing past the resisting muscle. He’s so helpless underneath Ilya. It makes him want to take and take, until Shane drowns in it and can’t remember his own name.

Ilya gives him one tiny thrust, and Shane immediately sputters around him, already suffocating.

“How am I supposed to use you if you can’t even hold it in, huh?” Ilya asks dismissively. “Relax your fucking throat.”

Shane gives out with a sigh. But now, about two inches of Ilya’s cock are left out.

“Глубже,”Deeper he orders, a thrill of excitement rushing through him. “Show the camera what that throat can do.”

Shane concentrates on the task like he will get a grade depending on the result. Spit leaks out of his mouth, and Ilya doesn’t bother to do anything about it. Because Shane is in his most natural state right now, pleasing Ilya while swimming in the subspace that takes over him so easily. Always so easily when Ilya commands him.

Ilya commits it to his memory.

“Посмотрите, как моя принцесса глотает мой хуй,”Look at the way my princess swallows my cock he tells the camera, knowing Shane will understand every word. He brings the lenses to the lower part of Shane’s throat and traces an index fingers along the bulge that forms above. “My cock reaches here,” he says, amazed. “Fuck, look at that bulge.”

Shane lets out a muffled wail, slobbering all over the length of Ilya, the transparent, leftover spit sliding down his chin.

“I know, зайчик,”bunny Ilya coos. “But you wanted this.” He tries to push in further, but Shane contracts around him, unable to take it, tapping his thighs hurriedly.

With a hiss, Ilya pulls out of the warm, tight space. A long string of saliva connects his broad cockhead to Shane’s swollen lips, so thick it doesn’t even break. Shane whimpers with the loss, breath ragged as he inhales the oxygen and tries to collect himself.

“Shane,” Ilya says strictly, bringing him back. Then, he lowers the camera so Shane can tell him the truth.

“‘M sorry—”

“No,” Ilya stops him. “Look at me.”

Shane does.

“What is wrong?”

Shane exhales slowly. “Fuck, I keep—I keep getting distracted and thinking…” he babbles, tone stressed and upset. “I’m sorry—”

“What else?”

“I keep thinking I can’t do it,” Shane says more quietly. “That I’m bad at this. Even at taking you inside.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I just doubt myself…” Shane mumbles. “I want to make you feel good—”

“You do,” Ilya interrupts, more tender than before. Thinking it over, he asks, “Is it the camera? Does it make you feel weird?”

“Are you going to post this video somewhere?” Shane asks, curious like it’s an actual possibility.

It causes a snort out of Ilya. “Only if you’re down for it.”

“Fuck off.”

He can tell Shane might actually be intrigued by the idea, can see it in the glint of his irises, blown and needy. Always so fucking needy that the answer lies right there on the surface now, so obvious that it’s impossible to not notice.

“And if I’m rougher with you?” Ilya asks, wiping away the shining trail of drool at the corner of Shane’s lips. “Will that help?”

Shane nods unhesitatingly.

“Words.”

“Yes, captain.”

Ilya pats his hair and holds his phone back up to Shane’s face, continuing to film. “You still want me to use you?”

“Please, captain,” Shane rasps into the speaker.

Wrapping his palm around Shane’s scalp, he guides him to nuzzle through the scratchy hairs around the tattoo.

Shane inhales the scent and noses there, eyes closed.

“You need a safe word?” Ilya says as Shane rubs at Ilya’s stomach, like a kitty.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Shane insists.

“I’m gonna fuck your throat properly now, you know,” he tries again, making sure it’s what Shane actually wants.

Shane’s lashes flutter at him. “Yeah?” he murmurs, tone coy, looking up at the camera. A rush of excitement rolls through Ilya’s chest at the seductiveness. “Are you actually gonna do it or are you just gonna keep talking, captain?”

Ilya’s whole frame shudders. “Блять.”Fuck

Shane brings himself higher, just slightly, still on his knees, but no longer sitting down. His dick hangs between his legs, covered in pre-cum as he settles.

Ilya tilts the camera toward it. “Look at that big, useless cock,” he taunts, laughing at him. “Can’t even use it. Should have just had a pussy with how little he can do with it.”

He knows just how much it embarrasses Shane, being spoken to like that. He gives his cock a few jerks and glides it down Shane’s throat, taking its granted place there, careful at first, feeling the muscle resist and close around him.

“Покажи им, какой ты красивый,”Show them how pretty you are Ilya encourages. “Как хорошо ты сосешь.”How well you suck

This time, it’s Shane who initiates it, getting as much length as he can manage on his own.

“Take it deeper, baby,” Ilya says and moves. He pushes his cock down the ring of Shane’s throat, and the column clings to him like it had missed him being inside. Shane jerks his head to the side and ruins it.

“Fuck,” Ilya hisses, but doesn’t let go when Shane sputters spit on him. “Don’t move too quick. Relax your throat and stay there, there’s plenty of time.”

With that command, Shane takes him to the root, inhaling in and out from his nose, flush against Ilya’s pubes.

Not a single detail goes past him. He watches the skin of Shane’s lips stretch wide around him, like a tied ribbon around his cock, pink and pretty, reaching the base.

It makes him feel powerful. To have Shane on his knees, completely at his mercy. Using him. Fucking him until he doesn’t remember he’s supposed to breathe. It’s fucked up. And Shane just lets him do it…

But the sight is so right, his heart almost aches.

His grip settles on the back of Shane’s head and he tugs him forward, until there’s not even one millimetre of dick left outside of him.

“Боже…”God… he groans, sharp pleasure running through him as Shane chokes, taking it like he’s trying to eat his dick whole.

Shane seems to find a small rhythm, cheeks hollowing and sucking him right in. Experimentally, he bobs his head, and Ilya’s eyes roll back into his skull, a slight tremor going through his fingers.

He doesn’t even have to do anything, because his husband is already working for it. Ilya’s hips begin to buck up involuntarily, and when Shane spasms on him, he keeps his palm flat and just grinds Shane’s face against himself.

A grunt ripples through Ilya, and he has to physically restrain himself not to thrust into full abandon. But Shane had asked for exactly that, didn’t he? So it’s Ilya’s job to do his part and leave his husband equally satisfied.

“Such a good toy for me,” he breathes out, beginning to fuck him with no pity.

The walls of Shane’s throat work to consume the depth and move around it. His eyes fill up with tears, and they no longer stay unshed, sliding down his blotchy cheeks in thick rivulets.

He swipes his thumb along one of the tears and brings it to his mouth, licking away the salt.

“Посмотри в камеру, милый,”Look at the camera, sweetheart Ilya instructs, and Shane obliges. He glances up at the camera and stares at the lenses, gaze foggy. “Look how pretty he is when he cries. Fucking mess.”

Shane’s moan reverberates off Ilya’s fat cock, and it makes his stomach swim with pooling need, no longer holding back.

A familiar wave of euphoria almost electrifies through him as he watches the tears fall down Shane’s face in thick portions, his soft brown puppy eyes blown and bleary, craving for Ilya to keep using him.

“Cry for me. More,” he says, less of an order, and more of a request. Because by now, Shane should know just how much Ilya enjoys seeing him broken and pitiful while he’s in charge of the process.

Visibly, Shane lets go, sobbing harder, tears streaming down hurriedly.

It makes him feel powerful to have his husband like this, diminished to nothing but a messy picture, wet and ruined.

And just as the thought appears, Ilya instinctively thrusts harder. Shane squirms against him, slurping all over his cock and grasping Ilya’s muscular thighs for support.

“Малыш, ты такой слюнявый,”Baby, you’re so slobbery he coos after white bubbles of saliva form around Shane’s mouth. Shane responds by nothing but a deep whine, a trail of spit continuing to slide down his overfilled throat.

The slushy, gurgling sound of sucking fills Ilya’s ears, and blink by blink, he starts to get lost in the scorching pressure around his cock. He zooms the camera of his phone to Shane’s tears and his red face, keeping a hand around his skull.

His breath catches when Shane attempts to get off him, whimpers leaving him.

“Stay there,” he commands, rough. “God—you’re so fucking loud.”

He pushes his hips further and drags a thumb along the line of Shane’s forehead. The sweat clings to his skin but he gently moves the damp, outgrown strands out of the way. He needs to see his husband’s eyes, with nothing else in the way.

“Does your jaw ache?” Ilya slams himself against his face, his balls hitting Shane’s chin and squeezing between them.

Shane seizes, dark brows screwed together. He tries to nod, causing a loud wail, but to Ilya, that’s a clear yes.

“Good,” he affirms, cruel. “You like being hurt, don’t you? Only good for taking your captain’s cock anyway.” He revels in the way Shane physically can’t even speak. “Yes, you are.”

Shane’s Adam’s apple works, and the spasm just keeps on getting more frequent, like he’s suffocating.

Ilya continues anyway.

He plunges his cock deeper, brutal with the movement, and the sound he gets in return is fucking addicting. Spit flies out of Shane’s mouth, covering the whole of his chin and gushing down his bare sternum. His shoulders slump forward, and he thrashes as his stomach visibly tightens.

“Don’t you fucking throw up on me,” Ilya growls, feral. “Keep it all in, bitch.”

Shane whines and retches at the same moment, drooling as he gets too close to vomiting. But his hands grope Ilya’s hips, so Ilya has to release him. He pulls back with a loud, obscene pop, a flood of saliva coming out of his mouth and wetting everything around.

“Тупая шлюха,”Dumb whore Ilya grits through his teeth, watching Shane cough and wheeze, turning away as he tries to swallow air like a dying fish. “Thought you wanted me to use you? Your throat training doesn’t help anymore?” he mocks.

Shane scrambles back up and ignores the camera at his face. When he stops gasping, he looks straight up at Ilya, all angry, bitchy, and daring.

“You’ve got something to say?” Ilya asks.

“Fuck you.”

He swings a palm and slaps Shane across his cheek, the harshest hit of the day. The spot blossoms into a crimson color. “Shut the fuck up and put that spoiled mouth to use.”

In response, Shane mumbles something incoherent. Ilya doesn’t catch it.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Shane replies.

“Say thank you then. In Russian, like I taught you. I deserve it after fucking your throat like the stupid slut you are.”

Bracing himself, his husband’s lips open around the words, “Spasibo, captain.”

“Good boy,” Ilya praises him, and it seems to bring Shane into a more submissive state again. “А теперь глотай, сука.”Now swallow it, bitch

He holds his cock closer to Shane’s mouth and smears the drool all over his nose and jaw, making it disgustingly sticky. Shane’s lips part as he swallows down the length. He doesn’t waste his time on licking and sucking half of him, he takes everything in one go, and—

Ilya wants to dissolve around that specific snug heat that only a warm, loving mouth can provide.

His head throws back as he lets out a deep moan, unable to keep quiet as his husband works on him and for him. But when he looks back down, he knows what to look for. His gaze catches on Shane’s pulsing dick, the tip a burning red color, and fucking weeping pre-cum like a faucet, ready to burst any moment.

“Look, he’s gonna cum from this,” he tells the speaker in his phone, holding back a cackle.

When Shane hears him, he allows one of his hands to travel down to the spot that Ilya’s talking about. But it’s not like Ilya has given him permission, hasn’t he? Swiftly, he swats his palm away with the heel of his foot. “No touching. If you want to cum, do it hands-free.”

A frustrated whine punches out of Shane after the said words, so he grips harder and anchors himself on Ilya’s legs instead. Every time he lurches and tries to get away, Ilya forces him in place, using nothing but his hand on the back of Shane’s head.

More spit, more wetness, like Ilya basically made a pool of saliva in Shane’s mouth specifically to satisfy his own needs. He points the lenses of the camera to the nest of hair around his navel, covered in nothing but pale white liquid that’s Shane’s drool.

“Sloppiest head I’ve ever gotten,” Ilya breathes out. “Been with so many bitches, but this one is still the best.” He notices Shane’s eyes wandering away, like he’s offended and preached all together. “Keep your eyes on me.”

The order is clear, but Shane ignores him.

Ilya’s palm meets his stuffed, left cheek in a sharp slap.

Shane sobs harder and tries to get out of the steel grasp, but Ilya keeps him right where he desires most and doesn’t let go, molding a space specifically for the shape of his dick.

“Что я только что сказал?What did I just say? You’re supposed to listen to me.”

Slamming his hips in, the thickest part of his cock directly hits the back of Shane’s throat, and he stares in awe as Shane’s whole body thrashes, gagging hard right onto Ilya’s shaft.

Wide-eyed, Shane finally looks up at Ilya.

Snot leaks down from his nostril to his upper lip, freckles burning up, tears pouring down the sides uncontrollably. And to Ilya, he looks like a fucking painting, something so perfect you can’t help but have desire to capture.

The sight brings him closer to the edge.

The obscene clicking sound of Shane’s throat threatens Ilya’s knees to go weak. His ball sack viciously hits Shane’s soaked chin, and there’s not much else he has left to do but to take it all in.

“I’m gonna fucking cum all over your face.” He bobs Shane’s head with his palm, fingers tugging at the black hair, the pace becoming uncoordinated and dictated only by the sheer need to make his Shane even more beautiful.

Mesmerized by the scene, he takes hold of his twitching cock, pulls out, aims it right at Shane’s freckles, and begins to spill all over them in one go.

Shane’s eyes shut firmly as Ilya uses his load like paint and directs the stream all over his forehead, blushing cheeks, his nose, and even his brows. His release is warm and so sticky it clings to Shane’s black lashes, turning them white.

“Мой прекрасный мальчик,”My beautiful boy Ilya whispers, admiring his craft before wiping away the cum on Shane’s eyelids, so he can open them up again.

He pauses the video, and Shane’s palm goes up to his face on instinct, but Ilya stops it mid-air.

Shane’s chest rises up and down intensely as he comes back to himself. His voice is hoarse and raw when he asks, “Can’t I wipe it all away?”

“Later.”

“Later?”

“I will need it.” Ilya notes that Shane is still hard. “You didn’t cum,” he says, almost upset.

“I was too focused on… sucking you,” Shane explains. There’s no sadness in his tone, but Ilya really doesn’t feel like leaving him dry.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Is your dick not tired yet?”

“It will get up again for your pretty hole.”

Throwing his phone on the mattress, Ilya carefully holds Shane by his forearms and lets him get up. His knees are all red when he rises, similar shade to the tip of his cock and his sweaty forehead. He’s completely covered in fluids, face marked by Ilya and his own tears, drying up.

As soon as Shane is at his level again, he leans down without a thought and presses his mouth to his. The kiss is hungry, because Ilya needs to taste himself. He licks the cum off the corners of Shane’s mouth, and pulls away when Shane tilts his head to have more of him, needy again.

Their foreheads touch, and they both simply breathe, sharing the air between them on each exhale.

“Knees again?” Shane whispers, warm against Ilya.

“Need to see that ass, baby, I’m sorry,” Ilya apologizes.

Shane’s gaze darts to the phone that lies still on the bed, as if waiting for them to continue. “Did you actually film the whole thing?”

“I did.”

A faint smile shows on Shane. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Hmm…” Ilya pretends to think it over. “Send it to our team’s group chat, post it on my Instagram story, send it to your parents…”

He gets a small hit in the chest for the last part, but it makes Shane laugh anyway.

“Don’t even joke like that,” he says, sighing. A moment passes as they stand in the middle of their bedroom, resting. “I’m all fucking dirty now,” Shane complains.

“Yes, that’s the point.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“Is hot,” Ilya argues.

Shane shoots him a look that can say a million words, but then, his expression softens, just like it always does.

“Did I do okay?” he asks, cautious as he locks his attention on Ilya.

“Okay?” Ilya laughs, looking down at his still flaccid dick. “You were fucking amazing. Shane Throatgoat Hollander, basically. They should make an article about it.”

“Ugh, shut up.”

“I am proud of you,” Ilya says truthfully. “Is a compliment.”

Shane’s face flushes. “Gagging gets bad when the cock is so deep inside you.”

“I liked it.” Ilya shrugs. “I love when you gag on my dick. Is so hot.”

“Everything is hot to you.”

Ilya kisses him again, feeling Shane beam into his mouth. “Get on the bed. We can’t leave our viewers unsatisfied.”

“Just don’t slap me if I cum in two seconds,” Shane asks, walking up to the bed.

“Stop pretending you don’t want it.”

All Ilya is focused on is the way Shane’s ass moves as he puts himself up on all-fours, gets comfortable, and looks back at Ilya.

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” he murmurs, tone sly. “Or just gonna stand there with your dick half-hard?”

Shane’s right. One look at his husband’s body, and Ilya is ready for another round.

“You brat,” he teases as he gets on the bed, seating himself behind Shane. “Always have to provoke me.”

“Just want to make sure you’re actually rough with me and not just all talk.”

Ilya gives him a sharp spank on the asscheek for it, enjoying when Shane hisses and melts into him, rubbing himself against Ilya’s crotch.

“So needy to cum, yeah?” Ilya rasps. He picks up his forgotten phone off the sheets and continues to film by pressing the red button. “Whole world is going to see your ass eat my cock, baby.”

“Please, captain.”

“Stick your ass up.”

Shane listens and his plump ass rises higher. But it’s not enough.

“Up.” A smack. “Higher.”

Shane presents his throbbing hole to the lenses in a beautiful, deep arch, holding himself up on his forearms.

“Да.Yes There you go,” Ilya murmurs, a pleasant thrill shooting through his core. “Good slut. Always doing what I say.”

“Fuck me, Ilya?”

“Not a word.”

“Please?”

“Shh,” Ilya cuts him off. “Заткнись.”Shut up

“But, captain—”

“Shut that pretty mouth or I will stop. You hear me?” Ilya says, meaning it.

The need to stare doesn’t lose its grip, so he just sits there, admiring the slope of Shane’s ass. Instead of reaching for the lube in the bedside drawer like he usually would, he drags a palm across the front of Shane’s face, gathers the cum, and coats Shane’s hole with it.

“Spread your ass for me,” he says.

Shane pulls both his cheeks apart, and Ilya sucks in the saliva before spitting directly onto the rim, hearing Shane whimper as he does it. He opens Shane up, gently scissoring his fingers, going in and out, preparing him for his cock.

“Ilya,” Shane calls, voice cracking. “I’m gonna fucking cum if you don’t fuck me right now.”

“Put your face in the pillow and shut the fuck up.”

Shane does what he’s told.

His hole gives out, and he’s forced to lie there patiently, waiting for Ilya to finally use something else besides his fingers.

“Perfect little hole. Fucking gaping on me,” Ilya mumbles. “Already dumb for my cock, yes? Even your ass is begging.”

Shane doesn’t stop shivering as he finishes his manoeuvres with his fingers and pulls them out, replacing them with the head of his cock. He gasps when Ilya finally pushes in.

The warm muscle inside Shane gives a way for Ilya’s dick to slide in fully and easily, until his hips are flush with Shane’s meaty ass. He moves just a fraction, and it already causes a small moan out of Shane.

“You want it so bad?” Ilya asks, smiling to himself at the idea. “Then fuck yourself on me.”

Shane shakes his head lazily. “No, Ilya…”

He is so tired, Ilya is aware, but there is also something incredibly special in the sounds he makes when he works for it and begs Ilya to do it to him instead.

A chuckle comes up his throat and he freely lets it out, knowing Shane likes it mean anyway. “Use me like your own personal dildo.”

“But, Ilya—”

“Come on, зайка,”bunny Ilya insists. “Don’t want to hear any protests from you.”

Shane sighs as the walls of his insides grip Ilya’s cock tightly. He attempts to push his hips back onto Ilya, a little awkward at first, but then catching up with the rhythm.

Ilya feels drugged off the way Shane’s rim stretches around the girth, reminding him of his mouth that has done the same things to him.

“Both holes are fucking trained and insatiable for me,” he says under his breath, not even meaning for Shane to hear. He directs the camera of his phone closer to the spot that brings him ecstasy. “Look at how that pussy is swallowing me.” He leaves a spank on the asscheek. “So tight.”

The whine Shane lets out is undoubtedly shameless. He flutters around him, his thighs contracting as he pushes back with more accuracy.

Ilya is not holding him; he lets Shane take control and use him however he likes, transfixed at the view that opens in front of him.

Shane is so nicely stretched, like his hole is carved out for Ilya’s cock. Another idea sparks in his mind so Ilya brings his own thumb to his mouth and sucks around it, making sure there’s enough spit on it. Without saying a word, he crooks the pad and slips it inside Shane. Along with his cock.

A yell echoes between them, and Shane… Shane has just become ten times more desperate. “Too much—! Too fucking much, Ilya…”

Arousal spikes in Ilya’s belly at Shane’s reaction, so he gets more chaotic with the speed of his hips, eyes glued to the way both his dick and his finger disappear in Shane’s hole.

“Come on. Fuck yourself on me,” Ilya commands.

“I am, captain.”

“Сильнее,”Harder he says. “Fuck yourself like you mean it.”

Shane’s whole body starts to vibrate as he pleases himself on Ilya’s cock, hips snapping back and forth with a smack of them meeting.

“Fuck… Look at how that ass bounces.” One of Ilya’s palms finally sneaks to the curve of Shane’s waist and he clutches it, self-control shuttering.

Taking the matter into his own hands, he pushes Shane into the mattress, his ass in the air as Ilya drives in deep, tight velvety walls hugging his cock.

“Clench your ass again.”

Shane does it.

“Да,Yes like that. You fucking love this dick, don’t you?” Ilya asks.

Shane doesn’t reply.

“Ответь мне.”Answer me

“I love your dick, captain.” Shane fists the sheets as he becomes complete goo under Ilya, reduced to the weight of his husband’s cock inside him. “I love your dick so much.”

“Biggest you’ve ever had?”

“Biggest I’ve ever had.”

“Good boy.”

Ilya chases his relief as the moans, grunts and whimpers mix all together. Unsure of who exactly is letting out what, he gets lost in his husband’s insides.

“I’m gonna mark you, baby,” he promises between the thrusts. “Whole world is gonna see your pussy drip with my cum.”

Shane cries out, “Oh my god—”

“Gonna be so fucking full.” Ilya doesn’t stop pounding him. “Cum for me,” he orders, feeling Shane nearing his orgasm. “Cum on my cock and milk it dry. Take all of it.”

Shane screams into the air as he finishes, clamping around Ilya and fucking bawling into the sheets, continuously shaking.

And seeing Shane do all that, react like that… It makes Ilya weak.

He cums with a low groan, the edges of his vision becoming dark as he floods Shane’s tummy with his semen, fucking him through the aftershocks and falling down onto his back right after, acting like a weighted blanket.

His cock becomes somewhat soft in the span of seconds, giving slight jerks from the lingering stimulation. Spent and exhausted, he exhales puffs of air into the nape of Shane’s neck, forgetting his phone that lies at his side, and any coherent thoughts, enjoying the clear empty space in his head.

“You okay?” he asks into Shane’s ear.

Shane squirms and replies, “I’m all good.”

Ilya pecks Shane’s freckled shoulder. “Can I film it when I pull out?”

“Oh, so now you need permission?”

He can tell Shane is smiling by his voice.

“Film it,” Shane says simply. “I want to have everything.”

Ilya carefully leaves the warmth of Shane’s back and props him back to his knees, taking his phone and pressing the red button back on. He puts his hand on the dip of Shane’s ass and tugs one cheek apart for a good view. Intentionally slow, he pulls his cock out, inch by inch coming out of Shane. He watches the furl of Shane’s hole attempt to let him go, the edges of skin holding onto him tightly despite the motion. His dick springs out of Shane and falls down.

And now Ilya gets to watch his favorite part.

“Давай, милый,”Come on, sweetheart he tells Shane, caressing the side of his stomach. “Let me see all of it.”

Shane’s opening closes on command before he unclenches and reveals the gape, presenting his fucked out hole. Drops of Ilya’s creamy cum trickle down the back of his thighs, rim fluttering with each light push to make sure he gives Ilya back everything.

“Господи.”Jesus Ilya feels like a possessed man while being shown something so special. Seeing his cum seep out of Shane makes him fucking dizzy, his forgotten cock twitching.

Acting on an immediate mode that is tied only to his uncontrollable love for his husband, he places his phone on the pillow beside him, and before Shane can even react, licks a long big stripe, gathering cum on his tongue.

Shane gasps and whimpers into the pillow when Ilya eats his release out of him, slurping on it like he’s consuming a big meal. Completely ungracious with the movements, he swirls the tip of his tongue around every drop, before freezing in one place and sucking the skin in.

He doesn’t stop when Shane tries to push him away. His eyes dart to the camera in his peripheral vision, so he makes sure this hickey is going to be blooming with color, noticeable for anyone who sees Shane in the locker room.

Centaurs would tease them both for it, just like they always do. And Ilya can swear to God himself, there is nothing he adores more in this world than people knowing that Shane belongs to him; that they both belong to each other.

Content with the rich taste, he flips Shane around onto his back, lying himself between his open thighs.

There’s a few pale white spots of cum near Shane’s jaw, along with the dried spit on his collarbones. Shane digs his fingers into Ilya’s scalp and cards through his golden curls.

It makes Ilya feel safe and brought back to earth when they lie on top of each other after sex, limbs intertwined.

“You cried so much,” he notes his thoughts out loud, looking up at Shane’s eyes.

“Felt really good,” Shane slurs, mouth barely open around the words. “Thought I was gonna pass out or something.” He pauses. “In a good way,” he adds when Ilya looks at him with tilted brows.

Ilya brings himself up to Shane’s side and reaches out to an almost full glass of water on their bedside table. He brings the cool rim to Shane’s lips.

“Drink for me,” he says, holding Shane by his cheek while he only takes a few sips. “More.”

Shane shakes his head. “Don’t want any more.”

“I need you to,” Ilya says, their gazes meeting. “You are too dehydrated after crying and coming so much.”

Shane snickers at him before gulping down the rest of the water with Ilya’s support, his lips becoming gleaming and fresh.

Ilya can’t help but lean down and kiss him, probing his tongue inside and exchanging the taste of his own cum with his husband. The place is so warm and welcoming; Ilya could kiss him forever, until his lips go numb and he can’t move them at all.

“I love you,” he breathes against Shane. “Thank you for giving me this.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,”I love you Shane replies and titters when he notices just how happy his sentence makes Ilya. His eyes sneak to the phone near Ilya’s leg. “Should we watch our sex tape?” he asks, giving Ilya a suggestive look.

Ilya closes his eyes and flops back down onto Shane’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Only after my dick is recovered.”