Chapter Text
The night started with Shane on his knees.
(Well, actually, the night started with a knock at their door, and Shane, anxious and embarrassed and ridiculously horny, answered it to find Svetlana on the other side, beautiful and poised and perfect in a long jacket.
“Hello, handsome," she grinned. “Going to let me in?”
The night progressed in the living room, some pointedly casual chatter floating between them despite the racketing tension. They ignored the way Ilya was already straining the zipper of his jeans, Shane tucked under his arm as the anticipation built, and built, and built, until Svetlana eventually stood up and dropped her coat around her ankles, revealing that all she was wearing beneath it was a black lace babydoll slip and matching panties.
“I want,” she said.
The night moved into the second guest bedroom. Shane hadn’t wanted to get a hotel room because he didn’t want to risk anything public or him being nervous about being interrupted. He didn’t want Svetlana in their bedroom. He also didn’t want to go to Svetlana’s apartment because he wanted the comforts of his own home. The guest bedroom was the best solution. Ilya stripped naked as soon as they were inside, and Svetlana laughed at him.
“Eager.”
“So eager,” Ilya agreed, grabbing at Shane’s clothes as well, pulling them off his body between frantic, biting kisses, until they were both naked and making out with sharp teeth and lashing tongues. Svetlana watched, sitting primly in an armchair that Shane had placed there for that purpose with a wild blush only two hours earlier. Her hand hung between her naked thighs, but she didn’t touch herself. Not yet.
Ilya slapped Shane’s ass. “Get her ready for me,” he said. “Get her wet.”)
So. On his knees.
“God, Hollander,” Svetlana breathed. “You are so beautiful. Even more beautiful up close. I have had a crush for years, you know. I was so jealous when Ilya told me, you can’t imagine.”
Shane glanced over his shoulder. Ilya was sitting in the middle of the bed, completely naked and absolutely shameless, watching. Waiting.
Shane rolled his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said politely. “It’s been a while since I last did this.”
Svetlana smiled, a little gentle, and very sensual. “That’s okay. I am very excited.” She kept her hands to herself, though, like they had discussed.
Shane took a deep breath. His cock was definitely interested in the atmosphere in the room, and his nipples were pebbling. He was kneeling on the floor between a woman’s thighs, a flimsy piece of fabric the only thing separating him from her cunt.
He took a moment to earnestly check in with himself. Yes, he was gay. He knew this. It had taken him a long time to accept it, but he did now. Ilya knew that too, and so did Svetlana. So what was this about?
He glanced over his shoulder. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Obviously. They had very little room to explore those kinks, given the lives they led. This was one way.
What else?
Ilya had had threesomes before, many with Svetlana, and he enjoyed them. He liked the depravity, the heat. Shane was giving that to him again, and it didn’t feel like a sacrifice or like something he had to stretch himself for. It felt like indulging in a partner’s kink happily, even if you didn’t share it, because it was hot enough just to see them aroused.
And….
Shane was gay. But a part of him had always liked giving head, no matter who the partner was or what they were packing. He liked being good.
He wanted to show how good he could be.
“Shane,” Ilya said. Checking in.
Shane nudged his head between Svetlana’s thighs, and she draped them around his shoulders, letting him in.
He pressed his nose to the gusset of her panties, feeling the give of curly hair beneath the fancy underwear. He reacquainted himself with the smell of a pussy, pressing his nose against where her clit was, and felt her shift eagerly in the chair. He stuck his tongue out and pressed it against the scratchy lace.
No, he had definitely never minded this part.
He actually kind of liked it.
Svetlana was already excited, already a little wet. He wondered if she had touched herself before coming to their place, or if the excitement of the night was enough to start her off.
“God,” she breathed. “He’s so beautiful, Ilya.”
Like she was complimenting Ilya, not Shane.
He squirmed, feeling the plush rug shifting beneath him, a tantalizing caress on his skin.
“I know,” Ilya said, happy, confident, aroused.
Shane dragged his tongue up, over the fabric, getting it wet. He firmed his tongue and pressed, pushing and nudging inward until he felt that familiar give, and his tongue slid a centimeter into her entrance, pushing the underwear inside her as well.
Svetlana jolted slightly and shuddered. “Wow. Wow. You say it’s been a long time, Hollander?”
“Very long time,” Shane admitted, reaching up and pulling her underwear down and off.
Her hair was darker here than on her head, where golden highlights ran through her afro. Her thighs were actually not as plush as his or Ilya’s because she was a little thinner than both of them. Shane had plenty of room to work.
He started slow.
The first time he’d gone down on a girl, it had been with his high school girlfriend, and he’d spent days leading up to junior prom reading blogs and watching porn like homework, studiously, not even touching himself. And he had felt so fucking proud of the noises she made, sharp and surprised and new, like this was something she had never had before and Shane could give it to her, could make her feel good. It took a while, but even when she said he could come up, that they could do something else, he stayed where he was. He stayed there until she came, and it made him feel good. So much better than any of the blowjobs or the handjobs she gave him. It made him feel good.
He pressed his mouth, open, to her pussy, covering her clit and her lips. He dragged his tongue slowly down the center, from base to tip, encouraging them to part and tasting the slick within.
“Wow,” she repeated. She sounded a little starstruck, and Shane felt that same powerful wave of goodness. He was good at this, and he knew it, and now they did, too.
“Fuck.” That was Ilya. Shane heard the sound of the lube bottle opening, but he didn’t pull away to look behind him. He was focused.
He slipped his tongue inside Svetlana and she was so excited that she gave easily, parted, and let him stretch his tongue as deep into her as he was physically capable, his lower face pressed hard to her pelvis.
He left his tongue there for a moment, feeling the way she pulsed, then pulled back with a long, slow lick. He felt her toes curl and her calves tense.
He changed focus abruptly to her clit, using the flat side of his tongue and letting her feel his teeth without ever biting down.
This was easy, he realized. He didn’t know what was wrong with straight men. Well, probably, they just didn’t listen to their partners, and they were hoping to get this part over with as soon as possible if they were assholes, but this was easy. He followed the twitches of her body, the quiet little noises, and he chased them, trying to make more. He thought about adding fingers, and decided that he wouldn’t. He wanted this to be a challenge.
“Fuck, he’s good at this. Did you know he was good at this?” Svetlana asked Ilya as they settled into a rhythm, her hips rocking gently against Shane’s face.
“No,” Ilya drawled. “Why would I know? But I am not surprised. Shane is good at everything.”
Shane liked that. He liked that a lot.
It was wet. It was hot. He liked the way that he had to think consciously about when he was going to take a breath, just like when he was blowing Ilya. He liked feeling his partner’s pleasure, and he liked the way that it smeared obviously across his face.
“That’s it, Shane,” Ilya said, voice strained in a way that meant he was jerking off too. “Get her ready for me. Fuck. I am so fucking ready.”
“I want to come,” Svetlana said. “I want to come on your boyfriend’s tongue, and then I want to come on your cock, Ilya.”
“Make her come,” Ilya ordered.
So Shane did.
It was gentle, slow, not earth-shattering, but he felt the tremble and the pulse of her, the steady, even rocking, different from the way guys always sped up at the finish line. He kept pace with her. His face was fucking soaked.
When she was finished, soaking wet and breathing hard, he pulled out from beneath her slip, and it fluttered back down around her hips, hiding her once again. Svetlana’s head was thrown back against the chair, and her mouth hung open. He could see her nipples through the lace, and they were hard.
She looked happy. She looked beautiful.
Shane looked at Ilya, whose eyes were dark and powerful, whose cock was rising high over the edge of his palm as he stripped himself.
Shane unfolded himself, a little wobbly, from the floor. He grabbed a tissue box and cleaned his face off a little, feeling shy again now that he was no longer hidden in the space between Svetlana’s legs.
Svetlana stood, shivering with pleasure as she did so. “You take the chair,” she said with a grin, walking slowly backward to the bed. “I will give you a show that will make you very, very happy, Hollander.”
He sat down. He watched.
His cock was half hard, but he didn’t take it in his hand as he leaned into the plush chair, already warmed from Svetlana’s body. He slumped back, heart racing as he watched her crawl across the bed, a strap of the babydoll slipping off her shoulder.
She crawled onto Ilya's lap. Ilya grasped her waist, holding her steady as he reached for the condom on the bedside table and rolled it on with practiced experience. Shane swallowed. They didn’t use condoms, not with each other. They didn’t have to.
“Your boy got me so ready for you,” Svetlana said. She didn’t hesitate to touch Ilya, dragging her fingers over his shoulders and kneading the muscles in his chest like a cat. “So wet… so loose. It will be the easiest I have ever taken your monster cock, Ilya,” she said, laughing.
They didn’t kiss. And Ilya didn’t look away from Shane.
They both groaned, loud and real, when she slid onto his cock, and then Ilya was shoving her onto her back, not dislodging her as he laid her out on the bed, kneeling above her and bracketing her body so that he could face Shane. “Oh, fuck, Ilya,” Svetlana panted, straining against him.
Ilya lowered his head. He caught her nipple with his lips, then his teeth, through the almost but not quite opaque fabric, and pulled up.
Shane’s mouth hung open.
“Like baby with a bottle,” Svetlana huffed, but she was laughing as she swatted him away from her chest. Shane watched over their shoulders as she wrapped her legs (they were so fucking long, were women’s legs longer than men’s?) around Ilya’s middle and encouraged him to fuck her harder.
There was something distinctly playful in the way they fucked. Their back and forth was almost childish, and it was certainly friendly. They ribbed each other like they were friendly rivals on the ice—Svetlana jammed her fingers into Ilya’s ribs when he tried to change the angle of his thrusts and she didn’t approve, and Ilya grabbed onto a loop of her curls and tugged like a child on a playground when she started complaining about his speed, saying he was getting old.
They wrestled a few times, rocking back and forth, changing positions as quickly as they quipped with each other, occasionally falling into Russian, although Shane could tell they were trying to speak English for his benefit. They laughed a lot. He and Ilya laughed during sex, too, especially casual sex and quickies, but he got the sense that Svetlana and Ilya had never had sex any other way. They treated it like a joke, even when they were gasping in pleasure and arching their lovely long necks.
Again, Shane thought about Rose. He thought about the sex they’d had, the terrible, humiliating sex. It hadn't been the first time he had struggled to get hard for a woman, but it was the first time he had been in a real relationship with the woman and couldn’t just claim stage fright. Rose had been sweet and gentle, but they had both been quiet, focused. Shane wondered if it might have been just a little better if he had figured out how to make her laugh while they were fucking.
Ilya was understandably distracted, but his eyes were never off Shane for long.
“You are not getting ready for me,” he said at one point, and Svetlana flopped her head over the edge of the bed so she could watch him too. “You said you would get ready for me, like you got Svetlana ready for me. I want to see you touch yourself.”
Shane swallowed. Ilya loved this game, and stretching himself in front of Ilya always made Shane so hot he felt dizzy, but he had never done anything like that in front of someone else. He’d never even jerked off in front of someone else before. Svetlana was distractingly, anxiously beautiful, and her eyes were so large in her round face. Their lower halves were connecting in regular, deep, satisfying thrusts, but Ilya and Svetlana weren’t looking at each other anymore.
They were looking at Shane.
Shane propped his foot on the edge of the chair, knee bent up to his shoulder. He felt very naked.
“He is flexible,” Svetlana said, choking on a gasp.
“Yoga,” Ilya explained, fixated.
Shane trailed his fingers down his chest, which was how he always started these little shows. He gave his cock a few strokes because, despite the sex happening in front of him, he wasn’t fully hard. He was most of the way there, but he didn’t think he actually liked watching that much. He didn’t feel the same heat he had seen in Ilya’s eyes while he watched Shane eat Svetlana out. He felt a little curious, strangely analytic, and very, very jealous.
But jealousy was kind of hot, as Shane was learning.
He pressed a dry finger into himself, sliding to the second knuckle. He bit his lip and stretched the skin out.
“Fuck,” Ilya groaned. His hips were speeding up, and Svetlana was rolling her body down, matching his pace. “Lube, Shane. Want to see you open for me. Want to see you gape.”
Obligingly, Shane grabbed the lube. He slumped further down in the chair so that his ass was closer to the edge and returned with two fingers, thrusting deep and punching a moan from his mouth.
The two Russians on the bed let out matching sounds of pleasure, then glanced at each other and laughed. “So beautiful, isn’t he?” Ilya asked.
“I already said, the cutest in the league.”
Shane glanced away, then looked back.
Ilya had told him that he should either focus on Ilya (as if Shane could pretend that this wasn’t any different from Ilya jerking off or something) or imagine that he was in Svetlana’s place. He preferred the second option, and he knew it, and it made a pleasant sort of humiliation tingle in his stomach that he so blatantly wanted to be the girl in the equation. He knew exactly what Svetlana would be feeling in that position, because they’d done it a hundred times, although her legs were around Ilya’s waist, and usually Shane managed to hook his knees over Ilya’s shoulder, folding his body in half.
Was it weird that he felt a little twinge of pride about that? He certainly felt good that when Ilya looked at Svetlana, the heat in his eyes faded, but with a single glance at Shane, it reignited.
“Ilya,” Shane murmured.
“Fuck,” Ilya said, thrusting harder. Svetlana’s hands scrambled up his back, but her eyes were locked on Shane too.
He stroked deep inside himself, feeling the flame kindling there. “Ilya,” he repeated. “I need you.”
“You have me,” Ilya gasped, hips moving like a piston, sliding almost his entire length in and out of Svetlana on every thrust. His right hand was between their bodies, no doubt on her clit, and Svetlana was starting to gasp and writhe. Shane wondered if it was easier for her to take his cock. If it didn’t feel quite so insane, so impossible, for her. Like it was something she was meant to do, built to take, unlike Shane.
But Shane didn’t want it to be easy. He liked that it was difficult. He liked that it was impressive.
“Ilya,” Shane said. “I need you.”
Ilya and Svetlana came together, gasping, scrambling over each other, hips in such perfect synchrony. For a moment, it looked like their mouths drifted in, like they were going to kiss off of pure instinct or habit, but they both pulled away. Ilya rode out his orgasm in her body, spilling into a condom, his eyes on Shane.
Shane slid his fingers out of himself and walked, just a little unsteady, to the bed. He placed one knee on the edge of the mattress, and by then, Ilya had detangled himself from Svetlana and was able to side tackle Shane by the waist onto the bed.
“Shane, Shane, Shane,” Ilya said, desperate, like he hadn’t just come, placing frantic kisses all around Shane’s face. Kissing his freckles, probably. “Fuck, Shane, fuck. Was so fucking hot. Love having your eyes on me, fuck. I love you, fuck.”
“I love you, too,” Shane said, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s neck and kissing him, hard and desperate. “I love you so much.”
“You, too, I love you, too. So fucking beautiful, fucking unimaginably beautiful.”
“I am getting water,” Svetlana said tactfully, sliding out of the bed. She stretched her arms over her head. Shane watched the elegant unfolding of her body with ambivalent appreciation, but Ilya didn’t even bother to look at her. Over her shoulder, she sent Shane a wink. “Then, round two, I think? I want to watch. Is part I’m most excited for.”
Shane kissed Ilya’s jaw. “How fast can you get hard, babe?”
Svetlana’s laugh drifted out of the room.
Ilya was mostly soft now, but his hips started twitching, like he wanted to frot against Shane. “Um, Ilya, Ilya—the condom-”
“Fuck, yes, sorry.” Ilya pulled back, stripping the slick condom off his dick and tying it off. He dropped it in the trash can by the bed.
Shane frowned. “We should empty that right after,” he said. “I don’t want to forget about it.”
“You check every room in the apartment for trash when you take it out,” Ilya said, which was true. “Both guest rooms. Even if no one has stayed over for months.”
“Well, sometimes if I’m in the hallway and I need to throw something out, I duck inside one, and I’d rather not forget-”
Ilya kissed him. He flung himself over Shane, his soft cock pressing erotically into Shane’s mostly hard erection. “I love you,” Ilya said again. “You are so strange and wonderful. I love how weird you are, Shane Hollander. God, fuck, your stupid habits make me horny. I love how you check guest bedroom trash cans.”
“It’s a good habit to have,” Shane offered weakly. He was extremely surprised to realize tears were welling in his eyes, even though his voice was steady.
Ilya was still pressing kisses all over his face. His hands bracketed Shane's head, palms over his ears, like he could mute out the world. “Are you having fun?” he asked. “We stop here? I want to worship you, Shane Hollander, I don’t give a fuck about Svetlana right now. I want you.”
“Um.” Honesty, Shane reminded himself. Honesty. “I don’t—watching you fuck her was… fine? It didn’t feel uncomfortable. It was pretty interesting, actually. But I didn’t think it was that… arousing. For me.”
Ilya kissed the corners of both his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Now we know. Should I send her home? She will understand, she knows this is experiment, first time for us, and she already came twice, so she will not be disappointed at all, you know, and even if she hadn’t, it would be fine. You know this?”
“I know.” Shane thought about it. “I liked eating her out,” he confessed, “while you watched. Made it even better.”
Ilya’s hands gripped and kneaded the fat on his ass hungrily, lifting Shane’s hips up and down like he was already fucking him. “Good,” he said. “Made me so fucking hard. You did such a good job. Pretty boy, love to see your face all wet.”
“I—I want to keep going,” Shane said. “I think I… I want her to watch you fuck me.”
“I want this,” Ilya said. “If you want it, I want it. I fucking love you.”
“I love you, too,” Shane said, starting to move with Ilya’s rhythm. He felt Ilya’s fingers slip inward, finding his barely stretched hole, prodding at him. “I—I want to ride you. I want to show her how well I take you.”
“Like no one fucking else,” Ilya confessed. “No one has ever taken me like you, fuck, Shane. Ready? Are you ready for next round?”
Shane nodded quickly. “Yes, but, uh, you definitely aren’t-”
“Sveta!” he called suddenly, hand slapping the mattress, searching for the lube. “Get back or we start without you!” He kissed Shane hard. “I will make your head spin with how quickly I get hard. My head will be dizzy with blood loss, you will see.”
Svetlana returned, gliding along the floor like she was on skates. She gave Shane a beatific smile as she returned to the chair they had been exchanging all night. She raised both her legs and draped them elegantly over one of the arms, her body turned sideways. Her hands fell into her lap, teasing the hem of his slip. “This is the part I am most excited for,” she whispered, loud enough to be overheard.
Ilya thrust three fingers into Shane, and Shane jolted like he had been electrocuted.
Ilya sped through the prep, and Shane was, in fact, shocked at how quickly Ilya got aroused again. They both had great stamina, and as often as not, they would come multiple times in a night, but this was quick even for Ilya.
“I’m so fucking hard for you,” he panted, open-mouthed against Shane’s cheek, breath humid enough that he could almost feel the drool. “Fuck, Hollander, fuck, Shane. You drive me fucking crazy. I want to show you off. I get to show you off. Perfect, wonderful boyfriend, who lets me show off how perfect he is. Fuck, Shane, you get me so hard.”
Lube was liberally applied, and soon Ilya was hard enough for Shane to grip his erection and stroke. Ilya shuddered, eyes swallowed with black as he endured what must have been almost painful overstimulation, but he nodded eagerly. “Ride me,” he said, rolling them over. Shane’s back was to Svetlana, and Ilya’s head was propped on the pillows. Shane, kneeling above Ilya now, flexed his thighs. She would have a great fucking view, that was for sure. “Please, Shane, please," Ilya begged, and he complied. He found Ilya’s hard cock between his legs and gave it two more quick strokes before he settled in, thighs holding his weight. One of Ilya’s hands scrambled back and gripped his ass cheek, holding it out and giving Shane more room to move. And making Svetlana’s view even better. Shane’s breath hitched when he felt Ilya’s head touch his hole.
He closed his eyes.
Shane let his weight drop. He bottomed out on Ilya’s cock in a single stroke that brutally pushed through his under-prepared entrance, carving out a hollow inside him that only Ilya had ever filled. Shane whined, high and reedy, an embarrassing noise, but it was impossible to suppress as the muscles in his abdomen spasmed at the sudden intrusion, rocking his world as his prostate was suddenly being bullied by the nine-inch, girthy cock rearranging his internal organs. “Oh, fuck,” he gasped, teary-eyed. “Oh, fuck, Ilya, you’re—fuck, you’re so big.”
Ilya held his waist tightly, his pelvis flush against Shane’s ass, Shane’s thighs trapping him against the bed. “Fuck,” Ilya said, pressing the flat of his palm against Shane’s stomach like he was trying to feel his cock through his skin. “Fuck, so fucking tight.”
“Jesus,” Svetlana breathed, and the impressed note of her voice—like she knew how difficult what Shane had just done was, and could actually appreciate it—made Shane start moving, rocking his hips, building a rhythm until he was riding Ilya’s sensitive, spent cock as hard as he could.
Maybe he was showing off. Wasn’t that the whole point of this, after all?
Shane was an athlete. He practiced yoga for fun. He was strong, and he was limber. There were certain undeniable advantages in bed that came from being extremely in shape and taking such good care of their bodies. Stamina. Flexibility. Vigor.
Shane’s thighs were strong. Sitting on his knees, he could ride Ilya like a mechanical bull for as long as he wanted without getting winded.
So, he did.
Ilya’s cock was fucking massive. Shane’s brief encounters with other men and decades of sharing dressing rooms and showers with his fellow hockey players had taught him exactly how far out of the ordinary Ilya was. It really was desperately unfair that such a cocky asshole had the dick to back up his confidence, but, oh well. It all worked out to Shane’s benefit in the end.
Except it was fucking hard to ride a cock like that the way he was doing. He was sweating, his body was writhing, and each drop down forced choked hiccups out of his mouth that might have been embarrassing if he was still capable of higher thought. It ached, sore and painful, but it felt good. And it felt fucking good to have Ilya under him, hands scrambling across the bedsheets and up Shane’s hips before flinging away, like he was desperate not to disrupt his rhythm.
Ilya threw his head back, long neck arching, and Shane, leaning back, braced himself on Ilya’s thighs as he lifted and dropped his ass over and again. He watched, distantly satisfied, feeling like he was floating out of his body.
It was mostly a grind, a continual roll of his hips, like he was back on one of those fucking stationary bikes and standing just slightly above his seat on the pedals, riding for all he was worth. Ilya, knees bent for leverage and to make it easier for Shane to hold on, gave as good as he got, hips heaving, lifting the weight of Shane’s body in each rhythmic grind that pulled and pushed a few inches of his cock in and out of his hole. Enough that every time he sank in, each unreasonably fast thrust, his cock touched Shane’s prostate and lit sparks through his body.
“Fuck,” Ilya panted, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, fuck, what the fuck, ugh, god, fuck, Shane-”
“Oh my god,” Svetlana murmured. “How is he doing that?”
“Fuck me,” Ilya whined, throwing his head back repeatedly, hips rising clean off the mattress, suspending all of Shane’s weight in the air for a moment before he went limp, dropping him down.
Shane cried out as he landed, Ilya’s cock sinking as deep as it had ever reached, and he keeled forward with a squeal, feeling speared through. He landed on Ilya’s chest, panting. He took a moment to recuperate, wondering if he or Ilya had come, and, deducing that they had not, resumed the frantic rolling of his hips, deep undulations of his body that started near his shoulders and ended near his knees.
He was lost to it. He wanted to stay lost in the sensation forever.
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya shouted and then tore off into a stream of extremely profane Russian expletives. “Stop, stop!” he yelled, snapping his hands to Shane’s ass and digging his fingers in, trying to halt his movements with pure grip strength. “I’m going—I’m going—fuck, Shane, stop, I’m going to fucking come!”
“Already?” Shane panted, arching his back so that his stomach pressed more firmly against Ilya’s, trapping his cock between them. He knew what his back arch looked like. Ilya had told him many, many times.
They were putting on a show, after all.
His hips jerked.
“Stop,” Ilya pleaded. “I am going to come. Embarrass me in front of my friend? Rude, Shane, rude.” He was clearly trying to catch his breath, and his eyes were closed. His fingers fluttered on the sides of Shane’s ass, pressing bruises into his skin from the effort to hold him still.
But Shane wanted to move. He didn’t want to be still. He felt like a live wire, electricity running through him in the form of sexual energy and a confidence he had never really felt before. He glanced over his shoulder, saw his own ass and Ilya’s fingers digging into plump muscle, and met Svetlana’s eyes. Her hand was beneath her lacey slip, out of Shane’s sight, but it was obvious what she was doing. Her slightly open mouth and slightly closed eyes said that she was enjoying herself immensely.
She smiled.
Shane grinned back, licking his chapped lips.
“If you won’t let me ride you,” he said to Ilya, still staring at Svetlana, “then you need to fuck me.” He dug his own nails into Ilya’s skin. “Now.”
“So demanding,” Ilya said, but the delight was obvious in his voice. And a moment later, he was manhandling Shane, shoving him back, putting him where he wanted.
“Ugh,” Shane groaned, actually feeling gut-punched when Ilya ripped his cock out of him as he pushed Shane up onto his knees. It was a disturbing sense of lack, to suddenly lose that heavy, invasive presence that had carved out a space inside of him. He felt empty and hollow and sore, and the quickness of it made him almost feel sick.
But then Ilya was turning him around, shoving him down with a hand on the back of his neck, so that Shane was face down, ass up on the bed, eyes turned toward Svetlana, who seemed suddenly so much closer from this angle. And then Ilya, with one hand gripping his ass and the other guiding his cock, pushed his dick back into Shane’s gaping hole in a single glide.
Shane’s eyelids fluttered shut, out of his control. The sound that tore out of his throat was almost demonic. Ilya’s cock felt like it was in his throat.
He keened like an animal, like he was dying. He stretched across the bed, hands grasping at the empty air he found past the foot, searching listlessly.
“Oh, Ilya,” Svetlana breathed. “How lovely he is.”
Ilya pulled out and thrust back in. “The loveliest, no?” he asked, stroking his fingers over the raised roundness of Shane’s ass. “Best fuck I’ve ever had—sorry, Sveta, you don’t compare.”
She huffed but didn’t object. “He takes your cock like… I don’t have words for it. He is making me lose my words, Ilya.”
“I’m familiar.”
“Come on,” Shane said, and Ilya started to speed up, but Shane wasn’t talking to him. He forced his neck up at an odd angle, fighting every instinct to just sink into the mattress, and met Svetlana’s eyes. “Come on, come here. Come on,” he said, holding his hand out into empty air again. “Come on.”
Ilya slowed, thumbs rubbing circles. “What do you want, Shane?” he said. “You have to say what you want.”
Shane wanted…. He wanted….
He remembered all the girls he had been with before. The cautious nervousness he felt whenever a woman was flirting with him, even just making her interest known. How unsettled it had made him feel in the past. And the sexual encounters were even worse. The nights he felt like he had to leave the club or the bar with a girl, or else his teammates would know there was something weird about him. All the girls he had tried to fuck, looking for the right one, the despair and self-hatred he felt every time she wasn’t.
Svetlana wasn’t any of those girls. She was just a woman who wanted Shane. She was warm, and nice, and she reminded him of Ilya, and her body didn’t turn Shane on, but she didn’t make him feel like any of the other girls had made him feel. He couldn’t explain it. He knew he was gay, and his body was a fireworks explosion of everything he felt for Ilya, and, in some ways, for that night, Svetlana was part of that explosion. A new pop of color. Something exciting. Something strange.
She was warm. She thought Shane was a good boy.
“I want my mouth on you,” Shane breathed. “Let me get you off again while Ilya fucks me.”
That’s what he wanted. He wanted her to feel good. He wanted to make her feel good. He wanted Ilya to fuck him until he couldn’t formulate a sentence, and he wanted Ilya to watch him go down on a girl he used to sleep with. It was seedy and territorial and strange, but Shane didn’t feel bad about any of it.
He just wanted it, and he let himself want it.
Svetlana stood. Her slip was pretty, Shane thought, barely able to focus his eyes. Maybe he should get one, too. Maybe she could give him recommendations.
She walked up to the bed. Shane forced himself onto his elbows and stretched his neck out toward her middle, too eager to wait. He dipped his head beneath the lacey hem and lifted, nose settling in the curve of her thigh, smelling her arousal. This had never been the part that bothered him. This had been the only part he was good at.
He darted his tongue out, feeling mostly hair, but tasting the slick that had coated her entire lap, drooling onto her inner thighs, and caught in her hairs.
He groaned.
“Whoa,” Svetlana said, voice trembling. “This was my best ever idea.”
“Oh, fuck,” Ilya groaned. “Up, up,” he said, pulling out of Shane again, the asshole, and smacking his ass. “Turn around. Sveta, sit against the headboard. I want to see Shane’s face buried in your pussy as I fuck him until he comes hands-free. Come on.”
They both obeyed without comment, even Sveta, who had snarked at every command that night. But her eyes were wide and eager now, several orgasms deep but not close to done.
Shane turned around on his knees as she settled against the headboard, legs falling open. Her slip was just long enough that it covered her pussy, partially obscuring it. Shane didn’t move it away with his hands. He nosed in again, pushing the fabric up the soft swell of her stomach until it was out of the way, and then lowered himself until his shoulders were almost on the mattress.
“You are very, very good at this,” Sveta said, wide-eyed. “Ilya, you could learn a thing or two, you know. You should take notes.”
“Why would I?” Ilya asked. Shane could hear the sounds of the lube bottle clicking and squirting and a short hitch of breath from Ilya, presumably as he reapplied it to his dick. “I don’t need to. Shane will do it for me.”
Shane groaned and pressed his mouth to Svetlana’s pussy before the sound had fully left his throat.
Ilya thrust in at the same moment, and then all three of them were gone. A single, unbroken line of bodies, connected and moving together along a current of energy built on pleasure and mutual understanding and respect.
It felt good. It felt like cocaine, maybe, insane and wild and a high like nothing else. It just felt good.
“Oh, my god!” Sveta squealed as Shane lapped deeper into her pussy. His upper lip and nose were pressed against her clit, and he ground his face into her as he licked her insides, tasting her slick, less powerfully flavored than Ilya’s come but with a similar underlying musk. She was so loose, so open, so fucking wet and the tiniest bit swollen, and he knew it was because she had just taken Ilya’s cock. The cock that was in his ass, right now, and that was fucking hot, he didn’t know why, but it was. He felt her thighs contract briefly around her head as she spasmed, and she panted, “Sorry, sorry,” as she quickly released him, but Shane didn’t mind.
He wasn’t going to pull away in the middle of this to tell her that, but he really didn’t mind.
Behind him, Ilya was really picking up speed. It was his turn to show off his sexual athleticism in the rapid, harsh pace of his hips. His thighs met Shane’s ass in loud slaps, the sloppy sound of lube and air reverberating between them, and he was rambling gibberish in Russian to no one as he plowed into Shane, hands holding his cheeks apart so he could get just that much deeper as he pushed and pushed, driving them relentlessly toward a shared end. Sveta was much quieter than him, her breathing fast and heavy, occasionally releasing little bitten-off whimpers or quiet praises, but, unlike Ilya, she clearly did not roar when she came.
In the middle, pressed between two flawless bodies, Shane hung in a sort of limbo. He was suspended between two rhythms. Slower, firmer, deeper on Svetlana’s end, aiming for consistent and meaningful pressure, and the wild, frantic ruts of Ilya into his ass. Both were wonderful. His cock was untouched, hanging in the warm air trapped beneath his stomach, but he was going to come. He was going to come soon.
His breath hitched deep within Svetlana when Ilya started pounding hard, precisely into his spot. He was feeling a little woozy, probably from lack of air, but Svetlana had started grinding down on his face, her hips riding his tongue, and he wasn’t going to disrupt her rhythm now. He didn’t want to. He didn’t ever want to come up for air.
“Fuck,” Ila said. His hands slid from his ass up his side as Ilya curled over him, body lowering, and Shane knew that his orgasm was building in his stomach. He could feel his own, twisting in his abdomen. “Fuck, close? Are you close?”
Shane couldn’t respond, so Svetlana did. “Yes,” she gasped. “Oh, yes, yes, just like that, exactly like that.”
Shane kept his tongue firm as Sveta ground harder on his face, smearing slick across his cheeks and chin as she rode him through her orgasm with a pretty, high gasp that lit a match of satisfaction in the pit of Shane’s stomach. He licked her through it, the same deep swirling motion of his tongue consistent as she came down, even as his attention drifted more toward Ilya.
Ilya reached under him and squeezed the fatty tissue of Shane’s pec. Shane gasped into Sveta’s pussy. “Come for me,” Ilya said, thrusting twice more before he buried his cock in Shane and flooded his guts.
Shane obeyed. He went cross-eyed as he came onto the expensive sheets beneath him, a cock buried nine inches up his ass, and collapsed face-first in a pussy.
He never would have guessed that this is where he would end up. He never could have guessed how good it would feel.
Ilya pulled him away from her eventually, as he slipped his cock out of Shane. He pressed kisses to the dimples above his ass before gently turning him over, rolling him away from the wet spot on the bed. Well. The biggest wet spot. There were a lot of them. They would need to check the mattress.
Ilya kissed Shane’s stomach, still flexing from the force of his orgasm and the empty ache in his ass. He blinked up and Shane managed to crane his head enough to look down. Stunning blue eyes met his over the planes of his body. Ilya’s hand flexed on his waist.
Svetlana groaned and stood, kicking her legs out. She looked a little unsteady, not the same as her usual unflappable elegance, and Shane felt a small kick of pride. He had done that. He had helped, at least.
“I’ll take shower and then be out of your hair,” Svetlana said, neatly straightening her lingerie even though it was dotted with spots of spit and other bodily fluids.
“Stay the night,” Ilya said, moving up Shane’s body, mouth now at the bottom curve of his peck. “Shane made up the second guest bedroom for you, freshly laundered the sheets. Isn’t he the best boy?”
Svetlana smiled. “The goodest,” she said, and Shane shuddered and let his eyes slip closed. He heard Svetlana yawn. “Well, I will take shower and then see if I want to go home. I will text you, Ilya, when I decide, okay?”
“Okay,” Ilya said happily, not sounding as exhausted as he rightly should have been. “Goodnight, Sveta.”
“Night, Ilya. Night, Shane.”
“Goodnight,” Shane managed. Ilya’s mouth had reached his neck by now. Shane wrapped his arms around his shoulders loosely as he heard the door close. “I’m sticky,” he whined.
Ilya licked his chin. “Hm, yes, you are.”
“Jerk.”
“No. Great boyfriend, who starts mind-blowing sexual encounters between best friend and love of his life. Tell me how clever I am, Shane.”
Shane’s fingers, like always, found themselves in Ilya’s curls, stroking and pulling. “You’re very clever, Ilya.”
“Handsome, too.”
“So handsome.”
“Luckiest man in the world.”
“I think it’s safe to say that you certainly got lucky tonight.”
“Yes.” Ilya kissed him, licking around Shane’s mouth. Shane could feel his face starting to dry, and he wrinkled his nose at the tugging sensation but let Ilya keep lapping at him. A little saliva wouldn’t hurt him, not at this point. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“You have fun?”
“I had… a lot of fun.”
Ilya kissed him, soft and sweet. “Good,” he said. “But my dick is broken, unfortunately. I will only ever be able to fuck one person for the rest of my life, I think. Sad for me, but not so sad.”
He was teasing, but Shane slowly opened his eyes. “I’d be fine with that,” he said honestly. “But, you know, maybe… in the future, maybe I’d also be fine with other things.”
Ilya shrugged, unconcerned. “Maybe, maybe not.” He smiled, happy and content, and Shane knew that he felt that way because Shane was in his arms. Shane was under him. Shane was kissing him. Nothing else in the world made him nearly as happy, or even half as content. Just Shane. “We can wait and see.”
“As long as I’m waiting with you,” said Shane.