Ilya stood behind him and kissed the side of his neck. Then he wrapped an arm around Shane’s waist and took his erection in hand.
Shane closed his eyes. He couldn’t—
“No,” Ilya said in a low voice. “Watch. See how beautiful you are like this.”
“I don’t think I can. It’s too much.”
Another soft kiss to his neck, and then to his temple. “Stay there. One second.”
Ilya left, and Shane cracked one eye open. He turned to watch Ilya, and to avoid looking at his own reflection. Ilya was standing near the stairs, and a second later, the overhead lights dimmed by half.
“Better?” Ilya asked.
Shane glanced back at the mirror. It was less intense, with the lights dimmed. “Why do you have sexy mood lighting in your gym?”
“You have it in yours.”
“Yeah. For yoga and meditation. Two things you don’t do.”
“But you do them. So I have lights that dim. For you.”
Shane’s heart wobbled. “Oh.”
“And—” Ilya returned to his position behind Shane, wrapping an arm across Shane’s chest and pulling him back to rest against Ilya’s bare torso “—is good for this.”
It was still too much for Shane. He relaxed his eyes so he couldn’t see himself too clearly, and focused on Ilya’s hand on his cock, and his solid body behind him.
Ilya released him, then pulled something from his own shorts pocket. Shane turned his head to see.
“Do you always bring lube packets to workouts?” he asked dryly.
Ilya only smiled and opened the packet. He squeezed the lube into his palm, then returned his hand to Shane’s dick. “Is a shame you don’t have foreskin,” he said.
“Why? Because if I had some you wouldn’t have to walk around with pockets full of lube?”
“Why did your parents cut it off?”
“I don’t know! It’s not like we talk about it.”
“Maybe I will ask them.”
“You’d better not!”
Ilya laughed, and kissed behind Shane’s ear. “We do not talk about these freckles on the back of your neck enough.”
“I’m not—” Shane’s breath hitched as Ilya increased the speed of his strokes. “I’m not too familiar with them.”
“They are just here. A little group of them.” Ilya’s lips brushed the base of Shane’s neck, making Shane shiver. “Adorable.”
“Oh.” Shane closed his eyes and rocked slightly into Ilya’s hand. His ass bumped against Ilya’s erection, which he was keen to do something about, but for now he was happy to let Ilya do whatever this was.
Ilya kept murmuring things in his ear as he stroked him, telling him how beautiful he was, how sexy. Some of his praise was in Russian, and Shane felt himself sink into a place where he didn’t feel quite so ridiculous being on display like this.
“Do you see,” Ilya asked, “how you look when you are gone like this? Stunning, Hollander.”
Shane opened his eyes and gasped at what he saw. He’d never seen himself like this. He’d seen Ilya like this—eyes hazy with lust, mouth slack, cheeks flushed—but never his own face. Even when they jerked off together over FaceTime Shane always closed the window that showed himself. He wondered if Ilya left his own open.
It was weird, watching himself being pleasured, but it was also hot as hell. Ilya was watching too, gaze fixed on the mirror, eyes blazing intensely.
“Ilya,” Shane said breathlessly.
“You see,” Ilya said. He gently tugged the elastic at the back of Shane’s head, and the hasty ponytail Shane had pulled his hair into for his workout fell apart. Ilya nuzzled into the long strands that now brushed the tops of Shane’s shoulders.
Shane reached one arm back, looping it around the back of Ilya’s neck. He twisted his head and caught Ilya’s mouth in a messy, urgent kiss. Ilya allowed it for a moment or two, then guided Shane’s face back to the mirror.
“You are going to watch yourself come,” Ilya said.
“Fuck,” Shane said, but nodded. He was way too far gone to do anything but watch and feel his orgasm build, hot and pulsing in his stomach, in his spine, in his balls.
Ilya pinched one of Shane’s nipples, and Shane hissed and writhed against him. “Want,” he moaned, not sure at all what he was asking for.
Ilya chuckled softly against his neck. “I know. Almost there, yes?”
“Yes. So fucking good.” Shane tilted his head back slightly, still watching himself in the mirror. “Want to make you feel good too.”
“You are. I love this.” Ilya brought his lips to Shane’s ear. “I love when you let go like this.”
Shane loved it too. Loved that Ilya could do this to him. It was terrifying and wonderful to feel so free in this man’s arms.
“Ilya,” Shane panted. “Ilya. I’m going to come.” He squeezed his eyes shut as the dam began to break inside him.
“Open your eyes,” Ilya commanded softly. “Watch.”
Shane’s eyes flew open at the same moment his cock began to spurt over Ilya’s fist and onto the floor. He could see how tight the muscles in his chest were, the way his abs and thighs trembled as his whole body rocked with pleasure.
When it was over, he slumped back against Ilya and huffed out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Fucking hell.”
“Good?”
“Yeah,” Shane sighed. “Yeah. That was just a lot before breakfast, y’know?”
Ilya nipped his earlobe. “It was very hot.” He wiped his hand on Shane’s stomach.
“Ugh. Gross,” Shane said, and squirmed out of his arms. He stepped out of his shorts and then used them to wipe the floor. He knew Ilya was probably rolling his eyes behind him about how fussy Shane was about mess, but he didn’t care.
“Take a shower, Hollander. I will make breakfast.”
“What about…” Shane stood and gestured to the very obvious tent in Ilya’s shorts.
“Later.” Ilya smiled. “We have all day.”
Shane kissed him. “Okay.”
“Is chocolate pancakes good for breakfast?” Ilya asked.
“Uh—”
“I am kidding. I will make your gross protein shake.”
“It’s not gross,” Shane lied.
“Go. Shower.”
Chapter Twenty-One
December
“Do you have many friends?” Galina asked.
“Tons,” Ilya replied quickly, slightly offended. It was his third appointment with his therapist, and he wasn’t sure he was making much progress.
“I mean, do you have many people you can confide in? That you trust?”
This time Ilya didn’t answer so quickly. “I love my teammates. We have fun together, and support each other, but, no, I don’t talk to them about…myself.”
“What do you do, when you aren’t playing hockey, and when your boyfriend isn’t around?”
Ilya shrugged. “Not much. Stay home. Watch TV. Play video games.”
“Is that how you’ve always spent your free time?”
He shook his head slowly. “No.”