“Shane—”
“Could you not interrupt?” Shane said with a teasing smile. “For once in your life?”
Ilya pressed his lips together.
“I don’t have a plan for anything beyond this,” Shane confessed, “but I know what I want. There’s nothing in my life that matters to me more than you, Ilya.” He slid his hand into his pants pocket again. He had to lean awkwardly to one side to fit his fingers inside.
Then, Shane was holding a ring, pinched between two fingers, in the space between himself and Ilya.
“Shane,” Ilya said again, unable to stop himself.
“I choose you, Ilya. I promise I will always, always choose you.” Shane’s eyes began to shimmer. He took a deep breath and said, “Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, will you marry me?”
Ilya wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he realized he hadn’t said anything. He hoped it had only been a second or two, but judging from the fear in Shane’s eyes, it must have been longer. Finally, in a tight, trembling voice, he said, “You know my middle name.”
“It’s on Wikipedia. I kind of fell down a rabbit hole learning about the Russian tradition of using the father’s name to—”
“Yes,” Ilya interrupted.
“Sorry. I’m babbling. You know how Russian names work.”
“No,” Ilya clarified. “Yes.”
Shane stared at him with obvious confusion. Ilya nodded to the ring.
“Yes,” Ilya said again. “I am saying yes, Hollander.”
“Oh.” Then Shane’s lips spread into a wide grin. “Yeah?” He scrambled to his feet and into Ilya’s arms.
They kissed, and Ilya said, “Yes.” They kissed again, and Ilya said, “Of course.”
They kissed some more, and Shane said, “I love you.”
By the time they finished kissing they both had tears streaming down their cheeks. “Is this because I almost died?” Ilya teased.
“No. It’s because I almost died.”
Ilya brushed the tears on Shane’s face with his thumb. What could he even say to that?
“So, um,” Shane said, after a long, fragile moment, “the ring.”
“Yes, right.” Ilya took the ring from Shane and inspected it for a moment. A simple black band with a gold interior. Very classy. He smiled at Shane, and attempted to slip it onto his own finger. It didn’t quite fit.
“Nuts,” Shane said, looking disappointed. “I didn’t know your ring size.”
“Is okay.” Ilya removed the ring with some effort. “Am I supposed to wear it now? Or is it for after we are married?”
“You know,” Shane said, “I have no idea. I just thought I should have a ring for this.”
Ilya handed the ring back to Shane, then loosened and removed his necktie. He opened the top buttons of his shirt, then reached back and unclasped the gold chain around his neck. He removed it, then held out his palm for the ring.
“Oh,” Shane said, then handed him the ring. Ilya slipped it onto the chain until it nudged up against the crucifix pendant that had been his mother’s.
“Here,” Shane said, and reached for the chain. Ilya turned his back to him, and Shane fastened the necklace back in place.
“Did you buy one for yourself?” Ilya asked. “Or is that my job?”
“I was going to buy the matching one. I just…wanted to make sure I needed it first.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows as he turned back to face Shane. “You thought I would say no?”
Shane at least had the decency to look embarrassed about it. “I don’t know. I just didn’t want to be cocky about it.”
Ilya laughed, a little wetly because he was still a mess, then cradled Shane’s face with both hands. “Buy the ring.”
They were both half crying as they kissed, their breath stuttering and their lips stretched into wide smiles. A terrible kiss in theory, but Ilya had never experienced one better. Shane Hollander was going to be his husband.
Shane untucked Ilya’s dress shirt from his suit pants and slid his hand underneath. He pressed his palm to Ilya’s chest, over his heart.
“God,” Shane whispered.
Ilya covered Shane’s hand with his own. “Still alive. I told you.”
Shane kissed him again, but this time there was an edge of desperation to it, a ferocity that Ilya easily returned, clutching at Shane’s sweater, at his skin, at his hair.
Their breathing changed from hitched and snuffly to heavy and panting. Ilya helped Shane out of his sweater and the shirt underneath, then they worked together on removing Ilya’s shirt.
“Ilya,” Shane said reverently. His eyes were dark and anguished. Ilya couldn’t have that, so he kissed him again. He pulled their bodies tight together, letting every sense fill with Shane. Letting Shane know he was solid and real and alive and extremely interested in fucking him.
They fumbled with each other’s belts, got their pants and underwear and, with a bit of unavoidable awkwardness, their socks off. Shane smiled at him when they were both naked, wide and bright and beautiful. He was staring at Ilya’s chest, and Ilya glanced down to see the ring there, glinting in the light of a million candles.
“Yours,” Ilya said.
“Mine.” Shane crashed into him again, kissing him hungrily.
There was a coffee table covering most of the plush rug in the middle of Ilya’s living room. Without breaking the kiss, Ilya used one foot to push it aside. He heard the soft thump of several candles hitting the carpet, and was thankful Shane had chosen to go electric.
“What—” Shane asked. Then, “Oh,” as Ilya scooped him up and laid him on the rug.
Ilya took a moment to just look at Shane, laid out like that in the magical lighting he’d worked so hard to create. His long hair fanned out under his head, and his dark eyes danced with joy and desire. His freckles were all bunched up because he was smiling so widely his nose was wrinkled.
Ilya took one of his hands, tangled their fingers together, and pinned it on the rug over Shane’s head. The ring dangled in the air between them.
“I love you so much,” Shane said softly.
Ilya swallowed. “I will be very proud to be your husband.”
He leaned down and captured Shane’s mouth in another slow, luxurious kiss. Shane gripped his fingers tighter and rolled his hips under him, sliding their erections together. It felt fucking incredible, simple and explosive at the same time. Ilya’d had every intention of fucking Shane right here on the rug, but he didn’t want to stop what they were doing. He wanted to be pressed this close to Shane, touching everywhere. He wanted Shane to rock against him just like this, chasing his pleasure while getting Ilya closer to his own release with each slow, controlled grind of his pelvis.
It was the control that was unraveling Ilya more than anything. This wasn’t frantic rutting—this was Shane loving Ilya with his body. Careful, steady thrusts that matched the rhythm of their pounding hearts.
Ilya realized they weren’t even kissing anymore. Their gazes were locked, lips parted as they both huffed and shuddered into the inches between them.
“Is this okay?” Shane whispered.