“I’m sorry you went through that,” Shane said. “And I’m sorry I never knew about it.”
“Is fine,” Ilya said, even though his eyes were glistening with tears. “Was scary, but you are okay.”
“I’m okay,” Shane agreed.
Beside them, Ilya’s phone lit up. He picked it up, probably welcoming the distraction, and laughed.
“What?” Shane asked.
“Hayden texted me a picture of his middle finger.”
Shane woke up from a dream where he and Ilya were fucking at center ice. It had been ridiculous, and obviously fucking on ice would be difficult and uncomfortable, but it had also been hot as hell and now Shane was rock hard and felt about three strokes away from orgasm.
Jesus. What if he’d actually shot his load in his sleep? Ilya would never let him live it down.
He turned his head to find Ilya sprawled out on his stomach beside him, deep asleep with his mouth hanging open and hair covering most of his face.
Shane’s heart swelled. This beautiful man was all his.
He closed his eyes and reached down to ruthlessly squeeze the base of his own cock, then did some deep breathing. No point in being this fired up if Ilya was dead to the world.
When he finally got himself under control, he opened his eyes and found Ilya grinning at him.
“Trying not to come?” Ilya asked.
Shane palmed Ilya’s face, pushing his stupid grin away. “You were asleep! What the fuck?”
“I woke up,” Ilya said simply. “And you were meditating with your dick in your hand.”
Shane shoved him onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling him so he could look down at his smirking boyfriend and try to gain some dignity back. “I was not meditating.”
“Okay.”
“I had a sexy dream, that’s all. And I woke up all…aroused, or whatever.”
Ilya folded his arms behind his head. “Tell me about this dream.”
“No way.”
Ilya’s mouth fell open in mock offense. “You will not share?”
“Nope.”
“It was about another man, then. Was it Hayden?”
Shane threw his head back and groaned. “For the last time, I’m not attracted to Hayden.”
“Too bad for Hayden.”
“Hayden is straight and not attracted to me!”
“If you say so.”
Shane rolled his head in a dramatic fashion until he was glaring down at Ilya again. “I guess all I had to do to get rid of this hard-on was wake you up. Now I’m too annoyed to be turned on.”
“I don’t think that is true.”
And, no. It wasn’t true. Not now that Shane was finally cluing into the fact that he was straddling his very handsome boyfriend’s naked body. He couldn’t resist being aroused by Ilya’s crooked smile and sleepy, half-lidded eyes.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Shane said helplessly, sliding his palms up to Ilya’s chest.
Ilya’s smile grew. “Tell me about the dream.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
Ilya pulled one hand from behind his head and cupped Shane’s mostly soft dick. “Tell me one thing.”
Shane’s breath hitched as Ilya began to slowly massage his cock. “I—we were…fucking.”
“Wow,” Ilya said dryly.
Shane wasn’t going to sit here and be accused of having unimaginative sex dreams. He swallowed his shame and added, “At center ice.”
Ilya’s eyebrows shot up.
“I know that logistically,” Shane continued quickly, “it would be, y’know, basically impossible, but dreams are weird. So, yeah. Center ice.”
“Were there people there? A crowd?”
Shane’s cheeks heated. “I don’t think so. Maybe it started as a game, but then we were naked and alone, I think.”
“Interesting.” Ilya moved his hand down to caress Shane’s balls. “I have had dreams where we are fucking in front of people. Like we are showing off.”
Shane gasped as Ilya gently tugged at his sac. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Ilya chuckled. “Do you think so?”
“Sure. You’ve probably gone to sex parties and fucked in front of a captive audience before, right?”
A second later, Shane found himself on his back, with Ilya looming over him. Ilya bent low and kissed Shane’s throat.
“No,” Ilya said. “No sex parties.” He kissed a trail down Shane’s chest and stomach, then lifted his head. “Wait. How many people is a party?”
Shane narrowed his eyes at him, and Ilya grinned broadly. Shane never knew when Ilya was being serious about his sexual past, or when he was just talking shit to get Shane riled up. He knew that, ultimately, it didn’t really matter how many people Ilya had slept with, but it did fascinate Shane that the number could really be anywhere between two and a million.
It was definitely more than two.
Probably less than a million.
“Tell me what you think a sex party is,” Ilya teased. His eyes danced with glee.
“No.”
“Please. I have to know.”
“Weren’t you about to—”
“Yes. In a minute. Is there, like, balloons?”
Shane rolled his eyes, then moved like he was going to leave the bed. Ilya laughed and pinned him down, hands wrapped around Shane’s wrists. As he gazed down at Shane, his expression shifted from teasing to something softer.
“I am so glad I met you,” Ilya said quietly.
Shane’s heart clenched. It was such a simple statement, but it was so open and honest, and it instantly made Shane think of the flip side of those words.
What if they’d never met?
But they had, and they were perfect for each other in a way that probably only they would ever understand. Their relationship wasn’t easy, but it existed. They’d made it happen, against all odds, and they’d protected it.
Shane couldn’t find words, so he tried to lift his arms and Ilya let him, releasing his wrists immediately. Shane wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down, and held him. They stayed like that for several minutes, breathing against each other and saying nothing.
“Now, then,” Ilya said, then kissed Shane’s throat. “I want to blow you while you think about getting fucked at center ice.”
Shane let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t actually want to be fucked at—ah.” His back arched when Ilya wrapped his plush lips around the head of Shane’s cock.
Shane didn’t think about being fucked at center ice or anywhere else while Ilya took him apart with his mouth. He reached for Ilya’s hand and held it tight, fingers woven together. There was absolutely nowhere else Shane wanted to be.
Shane was determined not to say anything as he watched Ilya slather about a pound of cream cheese on a sesame seed bagel. If Ilya wanted to eat nothing but empty carbs and saturated fats, that wasn’t any of Shane’s business. Instead, Shane bit the inside of his cheek, and continued to measure out protein powder for his breakfast smoothie.
“Oh come on,” he cried, about thirty seconds later when Ilya started adding a layer of Nutella to the mountain of cream cheese.
“What?” Ilya asked.