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They’d been playing this game for a long time.
Slipping into subspace had never been difficult for Shane. The right look, tone of voice, or even subtle action can send him tumbling into desperation, wanting–no, needing–Ilya’s gentle yet firm touch, his control. He needs to feel like Ilya can make every decision for him, down to the most minute things. This near constant desire for domination brought the two of them to an agreement, naturally.
They would work out some rules and guidelines for Shane to follow in their daily lives, and he would follow them so he could be rewarded for being such a good boy. The validation of being a good boy for Ilya is enough to drive Shane to do anything, so creating these rules was second nature to him. Ilya made them constructive, too, of course, they had to benefit Shane and make his life fuller. Rules were put in place so Shane would check in with Ilya about eating, to ensure that he isn’t restricting. Strict rules about relaxing and taking breaks from working followed. Shane appreciated them, of course, but the other rules were a little more difficult to follow after a while.
Truly, Shane had done his best to keep the “rules” private. If anyone else heard or saw what he and Ilya were into, they’d probably think he was being abused. Maybe he was fucked up for liking it, but in his mind, there was nothing better than being at Ilya’s disposal. Though…Shane couldn’t deny it. Sometimes, it was fun to break the rules. It was thrilling to watch frustration flare up in Ilya’s eyes and watch his pretty lips press together before he reprimanded him. Provoking him was part of the game–the punishments were where Shane really won.
It was one of those days where Shane decided that pushing Ilya’s buttons was the only thing he wanted to do.
God help Ilya Rozanov.
Rule #1:
You will address your Master accordingly, and with respect.
Shane leaned against the doorframe to their bathroom, watching Ilya take care of himself. It had taken some time, but he had a “curl routine” now, upon the insistence of Yuna Hollander. She “couldn’t stand to see that pretty hair go to waste”.
Ilya gave him a little smile in the mirror, only to see Shane scowling. He must have woken up in a bad mood. He would either be able to fix it quickly, or he would be hell to deal with all day.
“Good morning, Shane.”
Shane looked at him with crossed arms and a furrowed brow. Really, he looked less intimidating and more like a wet kitten, but he would never know that. He sneered.
“Ilya.”
That made Ilya pause, looking at Shane a little sternly, now. All according to plan.
“One. Would you like to say that again?”
“Ilya.”
“Interesting way to start the day. That’s two.”
Shane turned his nose up, keeping an eye on Ilya as he washed his hands to get the excess hair product off. Fuck, he smelled good. Labdanum and vetiver lingered on his skin, and Shane had to try his hardest to ignore it.
“I’m bored,” Shane stated simply. “You’re boring me, Ilya.”
“Oh? I’m boring you? You have an attitude this morning. Three.”
Rule #3: Watch your fucking mouth.
“What the fuck are you counting for?”
“Four. Watch it, Hollander.”
The usage of his last name stung. It pissed Shane off a little more. He rolled his eyes and scoffed. Fuck this guy. Now he was pissed. He turned to walk out of the bathroom, but was stopped by-
“Where do you think you are going?”
“Why do you care?”
“Is this what we’re doing today?”
“Fuck off.”
“Five.”
“I said fuck off.”
“Six.”
Shane turned again, and actually walked off this time. He decided to fuck off for a while himself, Ilya leaving him to his own devices. Sometimes, Shane found, Ilya would leave him alone for a while when he was feeling bratty. He might fix that attitude himself, or he might fall deeper into subspace and plummet past brattiness and right to a clingy, lonely mess who needed nothing but his Master’s touch. This was not one of those days.
Rule #2: Ask before touching. This applies to yourself and your Master.
This rule was his favorite to break.
Ilya was ignoring him on purpose. This wouldn’t do. Not at fucking all. Shane watched him as he stood against the counter of their kitchen after a workout. Sweat was clinging to his skin, and the sweatpants he wore were doing Shane absolutely no favors. He could see the outline of Ilya’s cock behind the fabric, and that was it.
He had a plan. Shane made his way to stand beside Ilya, but instead, he lowered to his knees, hands already fucking with the waistband of Ilya’s sweats. It was exciting until he felt Ilya’s hand swat his own away.
“Seven. Are you fucking serious?”
No response. Shane just tries to get back to it-
“Eight. You fucking brat.”
Shane could tell that Ilya got the hint. He’s ready to play. So, Ilya set his phone on the counter and replaced it with a handful of Shane’s hair, yanking him back so he would stop touching him. Shane stood, scowling.
“You know better. I know you know better.”
“Fuck you.”
“Eight. You think that will help?”
“You’re counting and doing nothing. Pussy.”
Shane saw that glimmer in Ilya’s eyes. It’s a mix of anger and thrill, as if he were some kind of predatory animal locking in on prey. He felt Ilya release his hair, finally.
“Nine.”
“I said you’re a fucking pussy.”
“Ten.”
“Do something about it.”
Ilya did nothing.
“Do something!”
Shane felt furious. He was acting out, desperate for attention–why wasn’t he getting it? Why didn’t he get what he wanted? He pushed at Ilya’s chest, aching for a reaction. Anything. But no, he got nothing. It made him want to fucking scream.
“What the fuck!”
“Eleven.”
That made Shane’s fists curl up and beat on Ilya’s chest in a noncommittal, frustrated way, instead of aiming to hurt him. Either way, he still didn’t get a reaction.
“Twelve.”
He knew just how to get him to do something. Anything.
“I hate you.”
Ilya looked into his eyes with an intensity that he hadn’t seen in a long time, and Shane couldn’t help the smug little fucking smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.
“What are you gonna do about it?”
A beat.
Ilya’s hand curled around Shane’s wrist, his grip tightening, though his eyes never strayed from Shane’s. Eye contact was so hard for Shane on a typical day, but this was too fun. His gaze bored into Ilya’s, and he leaned forward as if to kiss him, but instead he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, pulling back until he couldn’t anymore. Shane released Ilya’s lip, donning a full-blown smirk. Pissing him off was too fun. It was like a mouse taunting a cat.
With a sudden movement, Ilya grabbed Shane’s other wrist, and turned so he could pin both of his hands to the counter. It caught Shane so off guard that he damn near yelped. Embarrassing. He looked back at Ilya, and while he still felt like he was in control, he could feel it slipping.
“Thirteen. I will let you try one more time. What was that?”
“I said I hate you.”
Shane didn’t know what to expect, but it surely wasn’t being let go. It was short-lived, though, as Ilya began to drag him by the wrists, only for Shane to begin pulling back.
“Fuck you, let me go!”
“Fourteen, fifteen.”
He writhed against Ilya’s grip, managing to get one of his hands free.
This is truly where the fun would begin for Shane. He lived to get physical with Ilya. Fighting him on the ice wasn’t enough, especially after beginning to play on the same team. They couldn’t fight, they couldn’t be competitive against one another, so he needed another outlet.
Ilya reached for his hand once more, but Shane pushed him away by the face, and that prompted Ilya to pull. Shane fell forward, stumbling over his feet and nearly collapsed before he’s dragged…towards their bedroom. Resisting now would make Ilya even more intense with his punishment, so once they reached the stairs, Shane did the absolute unthinkable: he brought his wrist up and bit Ilya’s hand.
“Shit-”
The sudden pain made Ilya let go of his wrist, and he bolted. Shane ran up the stairs, looking over his shoulder at Ilya in an almost taunting fashion. The chase got Shane’s blood pumping, and when he could hear Ilya’s footsteps behind him, he sped up, going into his office, across from their bedroom. Shane shut the door, breathing heavily. He wasn’t winded by the run, obviously, but he was running off of pure adrenaline and excitement. Getting Ilya to hunt him down like a fucking animal before he claimed what was his had to be one of the best parts about acting up like this. Sex was a game for Shane, and he was constantly winning. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his own pulse beating on his eardrums.
Ilya’s footsteps slow once he reaches the office door. He opened the door, only to see Shane standing before him. Ilya closed the gap between them quickly, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
“You disobedient little bitch.”
Shane winced at that word–it wasn’t one Ilya threw around lightly. He knew he was in for one hell of a punishment, and it almost made him nervous. What if he wasn’t allowed to come? That would piss him off so fucking bad-
“Let me go.”
Why did Shane think Ilya would ever listen to him? Their bedroom was just across the hall. He was about to be dragged there, kicking and screaming, subject to whatever Ilya wanted to do to him. But…that wasn’t going to be without a fight.
Shane spat in his face, but Ilya’s grip only tightened.
“You’re a bitch. You’re too much of a pussy to do anything. Counting down for wha–”
Slap.
Ilya’s palm met Shane’s cheek, and a red mark bloomed there. The pain surged through him once the initial shock wore off. When he was caught off guard, Ilya had the opportunity to take Shane into his arms, folding him over his shoulder to take him into the bedroom.
This pissed Shane the fuck off. He beat on Ilya’s back, whining the whole time. It was no use, though- Shane had begun to grow a little tired, despite it being just before noon. Exerting himself like this was always tiring. But he had to do something to get Ilya’s attention. Being ignored was the fucking worst, and even if it was negative attention, it was still attention.
Shane gasped when he felt his back hit the mattress.
“Are you done?”
Ilya absolutely towered over Shane, standing before him at the foot of the bed. It made Shane’s heart beat in his ears. Finally, he’d been cornered, feeling like a rabbit that had been tracked down and hunted by a wolf. Fuck. This is exactly what he wanted. Even if he isn’t able to come by the end of it, he’d still have been the center of Ilya’s attention.
That smug look returned to Shane’s features, lips curling upwards in a smirk.
“Fuck. You.”
In response, Ilya sighed, that same disappointed expression on his face. Clearly, he’d been hoping Shane would be too tired out to be a massive fucking cunt anymore, but there they were.
“...Nineteen. Are we making it to twenty?”
Shane answered by kicking at Ilya’s thigh, his heel digging into his skin. Ilya’s a big boy. He could handle it.
Violence was answered with violence. Ilya straddled Shane’s thighs, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt for another slap across the face. It didn’t do anything but make Shane moan like a bitch- he looked up at him, appearing far too pleased.
“Use your mouth for something useful, before I shut you up.”
“What, you want me to suck you off? You’re fucki–”
Ilya grabbed him by the jaw and kept his mouth open, spitting onto his tongue.
“A-ah–”
Shane tried to respond, but the feeling of Ilya’s spit mingling with his own felt like a momentary release. Fucking disgusting. He loved it. He wondered what it would feel like to have his throat used by Ilya, perhaps as a punishment. Not that it hadn’t happened before, but somehow Ilya made it feel new every time it happened. He could fuck into his mouth like a toy and still be satisfied.
Shane was distracted, reveling in his own depraved thoughts, so Ilya had a moment to spare. They used certain toys often enough to have them in a small box by Ilya’s nightstand. It obviously wasn’t their entire…arsenal, but it was enough for them to keep in case of “emergencies” like this. Shane’s shirt was pulled off of his body and tossed to the side.
Oh, that’s awful. Shane winces. Fold the fucking shirt…
“Don’t throw my shit-”
Ilya didn’t care for folding anything when he had an obnoxious brat kicking and biting beneath him. Shane knew he was being difficult. That was the point. But it wasn’t often that he was gagged for it.
With his mouth pried open yet again, Shane whined at the feeling of a ball between his teeth. He tried to resist, but the leather strap that reached around to the back of his head tightened. It was no use. He couldn’t cuss and dig himself deeper into trouble with Ilya. He had counted to twenty. Whatever the fuck that means, Shane thought. It was probably nothing, anyway. He hadn’t done much but slapped him around a bit and gagged him.
Shane would come to eat those thoughts. Ilya pushed him over, onto his stomach, and he felt something thick around his neck–a leather collar. He didn’t feel the silver o-ring on the front of it, though, and after it buckled tightly against his neck, he knew why. Speaking wasn’t an option. Shane was muffled by the gag, and tried to claw his hands away from the restraints Ilya was preparing for him. Thick, leather cuffs were buckled around Shane’s wrists, and he felt his heart race when Ilya pulled him back by the collar. The restraints around his wrists were buckled to another strap that pressed against Shane’s spine, finally hooking to the o-ring on the back of his collar.
The smell of leather was absolutely intoxicating to Shane. He would only ever begin to calm down when he was restrained, but it wasn’t instant. It took some time, and there were, of course, times where a little extra effort was needed.
The privilege of sight was taken away from him. Shane’s head tilted back as Ilya blindfolded him. Fuck. Shane’s hands flexed in his restraints. He thrashed for a moment before realizing Ilya was not touching him. Not good. He couldn’t feel his weight on the edge of the bed. Fuck. Shane’s muffled voice struggled against the ball in his mouth. This wasn’t good. Not at all-
He had just wanted attention, that was it. Shane panicked. He wanted Ilya’s attention, his touch, and now it was gone. The blindfold made it so couldn’t even see where he was, if he was in the room or not. There were no touches or disapproving tsks from Ilya. As he began to adjust to not seeing, it felt like he could hear and feel everything. He listened closely, but couldn’t hear anything. There was no sound aside from the muffled music from their living room downstairs. Shane felt that familiar pang of dread in his chest, trying to call out for Ilya, despite his gag.
He was sorry, so sorry for acting up. He was sorry for hitting, for kicking and spitting and telling his Master that he hated him. What kind of person was he? Shane’s headspace was shifting harshly from insufferable, bitchy brat to the sweet submissive he was trained into being . Though, instead of the fluffy-headed, nearly thoughtless pleasure and joy of submitting to the man he loved, he felt scared. This was a part of the excitement, but in the moment, Shane felt so alone that it physically ached. He wiggled against his restraints a little to try to make some kind of noise, just so his Master would come back to him. Tears began to form in his eyes, and they wetted the blindfold. He was so sorry. Shane would do anything to make it up to him. The poor thing had no way to escape, and no way to–
“Are you done?”
His Master’s voice was low, nearly monotonous, but that didn’t stop Shane from letting out a sigh of relief. It was as close as he could get to a heavy sigh considering the gag in his mouth. He wasn’t alone anymore. Maybe he could finally tell him how sorry he was, and how he would never, ever do that again. A breath caught in Shane’s throat for a moment. His body shook, and then on exhale, he relaxed.
That relaxation didn’t last long. A light, cold touch ghosted along his spine. Shane couldn’t tell what it was until there was a firm tap on his ass, and he realized what had been in his Master’s hand. They were both particularly fond of leather. It was apparent from the harnesses, the accessories they used, and the paddle in Ilya’s hand. Shane shuddered when he spoke–
“I asked you a question.”
Shane whimpered around the gag, and it was a low, desperate sound. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move. All he could do was wait until his Master gave him the privilege again. Toys don’t move, they don’t speak, and a bitch like him had to earn that right back. Shane had been so cruel to him when all he had to do was follow a few rules and be a good boy. Knowing he had failed him felt like a punch to the gut.
He gasped in relief when the blindfold was removed.
“You broke a simple rule twenty-two times. Do you understand how ridiculous you’ve been acting? I can’t believe you.”
Shane, again, could only whine in response. It was so humiliating. He had been terrible. Such a sad excuse for a submissive. Such a pathetic example.
His Master reeled his hand back, and the paddle came down on Shane’s ass. The sharp, stinging sensation where his skin was turning red made his muffled cries sound even more pathetic than before.
“One.”
Oh, fuck.
Shane’s breath hitched as he realized just what he was counting. Ilya had been counting out how many strikes he was earning himself.
Another strike.
“Two.”
Tears welled up in Shane’s eyes. Not only from the pain, but from the combined humiliation of his cock ached and leaked from being hit, and from the reason he was being punished in the first place. He looked back at Ilya, who had tilted his head curiously, watching Shane pant and shake with anticipation.
“I need you to be ready for me. Do you understand?”
He nodded quickly, and ever so considerately spread his legs for him. Ilya’s low, pleased laugh sounded almost like a purr to Shane. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the mattress, letting Ilya manhandle him to get him exactly where he wanted him. Ilya had strapped Shane’s ankles to something- a spreader bar. He was stuck in this position until he would be graciously let out. Serves him right, seeing how he gave Ilya such a terrible start to his morning. He knew that this wasn’t the end of his preparation, though. Not when he felt the cold, wet sensation of Ilya’s finger spreading lube around his hole, pressing inside of him. This wasn’t for Shane’s pleasure.
He needed to be ready to be used by the end of his punishment. But, that didn’t stop him from moaning around the gag, pushing back on Ilya like a bitch in heat.
“Stay still.”
He stayed still.
Ilya’s second finger sipped inside of him, stretching his hole out as he scissored them inside, pushing deeper after every time he pulled back. Shane would be good. He would be such a good boy, he would do anything to make Ilya feel good. He had to be. This punishment would be nothing compared to the feeling of relief he would give Ilya, letting him use his body for his own pleasure.
Ilya pulled his fingers out after a little while- Shane was not pleased. He nearly choked on his own vocalization, suddenly feeling so empty. He was desperate, and Ilya unintentionally gave him relief when Shane felt the metallic chill of a plug inside of him, the hot, burning stretch a sharp contrast.
Ilya stood, backing up from the bed to admire his work for a moment before giving him yet another slap.
“Three.”
If he could cry out, he would. Shane looked back at him, blinking away tears.
“Four.”
Shane moaned helplessly into the gag, drooling around the ball. When he looked up, the desperation in his eyes begged Ilya for his approval once more. He’d acted out, sure, but once he was restrained, he began to calm down. He had been accepting his punishment well, too.
I can be good, please touch me.
When true submission took hold of him, Shane felt intoxicated. The overwhelming sensory experience of the scene drove him fucking insane. The leather straps of the gag, the leather restraints around his wrists, Ilya’s sweat, the sting of the hot, red marks on his ass where he was paddled—it’s like heaven. He had submitted fully to Ilya, admitting his poor behavior, tears streaking down his cheeks. In an act of apology, he didn’t even fight against the spreader bar his ankles were shackled to. He accepted it, and his breathing became slow, and deep.
When the gag was taken from Shane’s mouth, Ilya finally spoke.
“Do you know why I do this?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me.”
“Because you love me, and you know I can be good.”
“Have you been good?”
“No, Sir.”
“You’re going to count for me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I have high expectations for you. I know you could be perfect, if you tried.”
That got a whine out of Shane. He could be perfect, just for Ilya. Shane strived for perfection in every way, so when Ilya told him he could be perfect, it made him fall further into submission, if that was even possible.
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Count for me.”
Shane was struck again, and his voice is strained as he whined out-
“Five, f-fuck-”
“Would you like to say that again?”
“Five. I’m sorry-”
“I thought so.”
Slap.
“Six-!”
Another.
“Seven- haah, please-”
Shane would have lost track of how many times he was struck if he wasn’t counting them himself. Ilya had been making sure to hit the same place multiple times to make it sore and sensitive. Every time he reared his hand back, Shane felt a moment of tension and anticipation. When the paddle came down on him, the relief and pain seemed to soothe him. It’s what Shane deserved for speaking so cruelly to his Master, he would never do anything like that again. Well. Maybe until he got bored.
With each strike, Shane’s mind would crumble further. The plug inside of him only made the stimulation more intense–he was going to break if it went on any longer. Luckily for him, they were only getting started.
“Twenty-one– please, please-”
“Please? That isn’t a number. Stick to it. One more.”
“Yes, sir.”
The final strike comes down on Shane’s ass harder than any of the previous times, a heavy, solid smack resounding in their bedroom, followed by a desperate cry.
“Twenty-two!”
“Much better.”
Tears still flowed from Shane’s eyes. There was no stopping, it seemed, even once this part of his punishment was over. He wondered if he would be unrestrained, now that he was so docile and submissive. The look on his face when his eyes met Ilya’s said it all-
I’ve been good. I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you.
Ilya wouldn’t be so gracious.
He began to pull the plug from Shane’s hole slowly, suddenly pushing it back in when he began to relax.
“Do you think you deserve to be rewarded for bare minimum?”
“..No, sir.”
“Good.”
Shane stayed completely still. He knew Ilya preferred that when he was in trouble. Accepting his fate would put Shane back into his good graces, so he tried his hardest to barely react when Ilya stopped touching him. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he heard Ilya reach down to the box of toys beside their bed. There was a click of a plastic cap, and suddenly, he was empty. Shane gasped at the sudden sensation of having nothing inside of him. It was uncomfortable, and far too undesired. He was supposed to be used. He was supposed to be there for Ilya’s pleasure and his own punishment-
The tip of Ilya’s cock teased at Shane’s hole. Finally.
“So quiet.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do not hold back when I fuck you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shane braced himself and his body damn near gave out when Ilya shoved his cock inside of him. It wasn’t slow or gentle, like it would be if they were fucking in the morning, Shane’s barely conscious mind full of pleasure and warmth. Instead, Ilya gripped Shane’s hips so hard that it hurt, his nails digging into him and leaving little crescent-shaped indentations in his perfect, smooth skin.
The pace Ilya kept was almost overwhelming. Shane’s body was on fire, feeling Ilya’s cock drag in and out of him. The stretch was good. Burned a little, just how he liked it.
Shane wished he could hold on to something, his hands flexing and balling back up. He could feel tears welling up again, just from being so overwhelmed.
“Fuck, haah- sorry, I’m sorry, I-”
“You take it like the bitch you are,” Ilya’s words came out as a growl. “Born to take my cock. Cry for it.”
“Fuck, I’m your bitch, I’m just- ohmygod- I’m your fucking toy-”
Shane’s cries caught in his throat. His body jerked forward every time Ilya’s hips met his ass, the stinging, raw pain from where he had been struck reminding him of just how much Ilya loved him. Like he said, he did this because he loved him. He wanted to be perfect.
It was almost too much- Shane’s own cock drooled onto the sheets beneath them. An almost embarrassing amount of precum was leaking from him.
He was getting desperate.
“I want to touch you-”
“No.”
He wanted to kiss Ilya, to touch his face, and he knew Ilya wanted it, too. Why had he been so bad? Being restrained and unable to touch him was torture.
“Please, please, I want to-”
“Shane, fuck, so tight-”
Ilya hunched over him in an almost animalistic way, one hand on Shane’s hip and the other gripping at the sheets over his head to keep himself steady. He panted in Shane’s ear, and the sheer weight of Ilya on his back made Shane moan in ecstasy.
“Stupid little slut,” Ilya panted. “Know your place.”
The pleasure was intoxicating. Shane couldn’t think straight, he could barely move, and really, he didn’t give a fuck. He was being used for the purpose he was given, and it felt good. He wanted to touch Ilya so badly, but he was right. He needed to know his place. He needed to become perfect.
Warmth pooled in his stomach, spreading to his thighs and washing over his body in waves. Fuck, he thought. Too close, and if he comes without permission, he won’t ever be forgiven.
“Can–can I come, Sir? Please? Please, I need to come, so close-”
“Come, Shane.”
It didn’t take long for Shane to become undone, writhing against his restraints and tightening around Ilya’s cock. The pleasure is almost unbearable. Sobs wrack his body, his poor hands flexing and balling back up again and again in an attempt to anchor himself down.
“Oh, fuck, ah- Ilya, I love you, I-”
“Fuck, Shane-”
Ilya followed him quickly- it was like Shane was milking him for all he’s worth, cum pumped into him as if he could be bred. Being so full of Ilya’s cock, of his cum, of him had Shane’s eyes rolling back before fluttering shut, his body going limp as he succumbed to the most intense fucking orgasm he’d had in a long time.
After a moment of catching his breath, Ilya began to push himself back up, kissing Shane’s shoulder before kneeling back. He slowly pulled out, much to Shane’s dismay, though he kept him spread open with his hand to admire how his hole leaked.
“So pretty, Shane.”
All he could do was whine in response.
Ilya took it upon himself to begin the process of taking Shane’s restraints off. The straps around his ankles were first, so he could put the spreader bar to the side. Then came his wrists, and after that, the collar. Shane was limp, face down on the bed, still trying to catch his own breath. Fuck.
There was a moment of silence between the two of them before Shane looked back at his lover.
Ilya carefully, slowly sat him up, mindful of how Shane would probably feel quite a bit of pain due to his raw ass...He couldn’t help but smirk a bit when Shane winced, though. His fault. Twenty-two strikes. All on him. He kissed Shane’s cheek, and in turn, Shane reached out for his face and pulled him in for another kiss. He kisses him hungrily, like he didn’t just get fucked so hard he saw stars.
“I wanted to kiss you.”
“I know.”
“Did I do good?”
“Perfectly.”
Pleased, Shane slumped against Ilya, laying his head on his shoulder. His breathing was deep and slow, and he felt even more relaxed when Ilya’s hand stroked his back, almost as if he was a cat.
“Such a good boy, Shane. I love you.”
Nothing made him feel closer to Ilya than this. He could put all of his trust into him, let him smack him around, use him like a toy and still be adored and cared for after. Shane reached around Ilya’s neck to hug him.
“I love you, too...Can we shower?”
Ilya huffed a laugh.
“Already? Can you even stand, or do I carry you?”
“...Carry me."