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He schedules the delivery for their day off, paying extra to ensure early delivery. Shane is deep in his meditation for the morning when the doorbell rings, and Ilya sprints to the door, giddy like a child on Christmas.
He doesn’t waste time. The packaging rips open, strewn on the bedroom carpet, which he’s sure Shane will scold him for, but that would just make him hornier. The sheets strip, and Ilya fits the new ones, leaving the duvet on the floor. He pokes the terry cloth top, and it crinkles slightly beneath at his touch, but not audibly, and he figures that means it’ll do its job.
He leans in the doorway of the home gym, the lights no longer dim, and Shane looks like he is finishing up his final stretches of the morning.
“Present for you. In the bedroom.”
He cranes his neck, mid-sun salutation, and draws his brows. “Present? Why?”
“Because you are my husband and I wanted to,” he answers simply.
A shy smile crosses his face as he sinks his torso back down, resting flat against his mat with his head on his folded arms. “Okay. I’ll be up in a bit.”
“Can I stay and watch?”
“It’s your house too,” Shane replies, rising into another salutation.
Ilya sighs, leaning his head fondly against the door frame. “I love this house.” Although, he doesn’t give a shit about the house. He’s staring at his home.
When they’re hand in hand, walking up the stairs, Shane laughs gently. “What is the present for? Really?”
“For us. We deserve nice things, yes?” Ilya says, covering Shane’s eyes with a hand and guiding him to the doorway of the bedroom.
“You’re making me nervous.”
“Okay, okay,” Ilya laughs, revealing the gift.
Shane doesn’t react for a bit. Scrunches his brows and looks back at Ilya. “New sheets?”
“Special sheets,” Ilya informs in a sultry tone, massaging Shane’s shoulders from behind and kissing his neck.
“What is special about sheets?” He asks, allowing his neck to fall to the side for Ilya’s lips to roam freely.
Ilya decides he’s done being cryptic, and sucks Shane’s earlobe into his mouth, nipping gently before releasing and whispering, “Waterproof.”
Shane’s breath peaks. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Ilya repeats back in solidification of his assumptions. “Can I undress you, мой котик?”
His workout clothes drop easy, sweat still glistening on his skin, and Shane starts to squirm. “I’m dirty.”
“I know, моя маленькая шлюшка,” Ilya purrs, groping at his hips and grinding his clothed cock against Shane’s ass. “That is why we are here.”
Shane shivers at the filthy sentiment, but loosens the tension in his shoulders. “Where do you want me?”
“On your back. Against the pillows. Want you very comfortable,” Ilya instructs, squeezing his thick, sturdy waist and then smacking his ass to kick him in gear.
Once he’s settled, he gives Ilya that look. Hooded eyes, softened jaw, slickened lips. The “I’ll do whatever you ask me” look that gets Ilya harder than anything they’ve ever done together. His cock is beating like a drum against the inside of his joggers, but he’s keeping them on. He made that decision last night. They stay on, unless they can’t anymore. His bare chest is enough to get Shane off, and that’s plenty to be proud of.
“What are you gonna do to me?” Shane asks, those dark, sultry eyes immediately spiraling Ilya into the deepest depths of depravity, regardless of what he has planned.
But he will follow through. He got the sheets.
Ilya crouches down to the bottom drawer of the bedside table and pulls out a wand. The good one. The big one. Lube. And a medium-sized plug. He drops them on the bed, one by one, the lust in Shane’s eyes growing sharper with each thump on the mattress.
“Fuck,” is all he can get out.
Ilya crawls onto the bed, directing Shane’s chin with his fingers, staring down into his ravenous gaze. “It’s playtime for daddy, yes? You want that, baby?”
“Yeah,” Shane exhales, his chest already heaving. “Yes.”
“Okay. Spread your legs.”
The plug doesn’t take long. Shane loves the sting, loves the challenge of it. Ilya has fucked his ass enough times to know how he takes it, how well he opens up, and it only takes a few patient, slick minutes before the heavy metal bulb is fully seated inside him, tucked against his prostate. Shane is squirming already, thrusting his ass against the bed to feel the rock of the toy inside him.
“Needy,” Ilya mutters, tapping the hilt of the toy twice and sliding a finger up Shane’s soaked entrance to dip a finger in. Shane gasps, rolling his hips down again to coax him inside. Ilya tuts, removing the finger entirely and wiping it on Shane’s inner thigh.
“Yours,” Shane sighs breezily, pressing the back of his head to the cushioned headboard and clenching the sheets with his hands. “So, so yours.”
“I know, baby,” he soothes, cupping his waist and stroking a thumb across the slot of his hip. “I am going to make you come. Make you come until you make a fountain for me. Will you do that for me?”
His head lulls against the headboard, looking almost drunk off the toy in his ass and the impending torture Ilya is preparing to enact on him. “You know I can’t always…”
“You will,” Ilya says, his tone gentle, but firm. Reassuring, but with no wiggle room. Like he already knows it’ll happen, like he’s seen the future. And, to be honest, Ilya feels he has. He had a wet dream about it a week ago. That’s why there’s waterproof sheets on the bed. That’s why Shane is at his mercy this morning. “You will, because I said so. And I won’t stop until you do. Your body knows me. It will give me what I want.”
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane sighs again, pulling his legs up and planting his feet flat on the mattress, his knees falling open.
He runs his hands slowly up Shane’s legs, prowling over him until he’s seated between them, breathing soft over Shane’s mouth. “Does daddy know your body, baby?”
Shane takes a deep, steadying breath and nods. “Better than I do.”
“That’s right. Good boy,” Ilya praises, tracing the form of Shane’s face with the point of his nose, feeling Shane move to follow along and not-so-subtly herd him toward his lips. Ilya holds out. “How wet is that pussy for me already?”
“So fucking wet,” he spills, already slightly slurring his words, chasing his mouth desperately.
“Just from having a plug shoved up your ass? You want daddy’s attention that bad?” Ilya mocks in a low voice, hovering over Shane’s lips, and pulling away as he gravitates forward.
“Yes,” Shane breathes shamelessly.
“Can you tell me you love me?” He teases, holding his lips just out of reach.
“I love you,” he says easily. “So fucking much.”
Ilya’s face breaks into a smile, and he presses his stretched lips against Shane’s parted mouth, feeling as his tongue searches for a weak point to slip inside. He only finds it because the eagerness makes Ilya laugh. But as soon as he’s entered, Ilya doesn’t want him to leave. He clutches the back of Shane’s head, devouring him in long, passionate bursts as he waits for Shane’s cunt to trickle onto the new sheets.
The goal is for his husband to be wet. He wants him there before he even commences the main event.
“Do you want the wand?”
“Yes,” Shane whines, shuddering beneath him in anticipation.
He keeps his husband captivated, maintaining that torturous distance between their mouths, breathing heavy, exchanging air as Ilya studies his desperation.
Then he clicks the power button on the wand and it buzzes to life on the mattress. Shane jerks up against him in phantom sensation, bumping their open mouths together, but refusing to move as his body momentarily freezes, not knowing what to expect, where to go. Just whimpering at the sound of the aggressive vibration.
He jolts again as Ilya makes contact with his outer thigh, the head of the toy moving up his skin at a glacial pace.
“Ilya,” Shane squeaks out, pathetic and wanton. “Daddy.”
“What, baby?” He responds, as if he has a genuine question that isn’t will you please put the toy on my clit and make me come?
He doesn’t even utter an intelligible word. He just whimpers and grabs the wrist that is guiding the toy. Ilya’s hand halts, and he raises a severe eyebrow down at his husband, a blatant warning.
Shane inhales sharply, his fingers lifting like he’s been zapped. “Sorry,” he mutters so softly, it makes Ilya’s heart ache.
“Tell me what you want me to do, Shane,” he instructs slowly, resuming the path of the toy up his thigh. “Be very clear for me.”
“I want the wand on my pussy. On my clit. I want you to make me come with it,” he whines, attempting to be specific, since Ilya loves to tease him about loopholes.
“I will, baby. You are just so fun to watch fall apart,” he coos, running the toy over the top of his thigh, stopping as if he’s ready to head for where Shane requested, then promptly starts to drag it back down his inner thigh. Shane shivers again, his hips bucking up in desire.
He looks gorgeous like this. Sweat from his workout, sweat from Ilya working him over, thighs trembling before Ilya has scarcely done anything. He knows his ass is clenching the toy inside him, wriggling for any form of satisfying pleasure.
“Spread your legs. All the way. I want to see them wide open,” he orders, whacking the insides of his thighs with the wand. He nods eagerly, dropping his legs, his thighs flush with the bed. Ilya shuffles back, observing the beautiful sight.
He’s a mess, and Ilya hasn’t touched him since the start. Puffy, arousal-darkened lips parted and glistening, a dribble of opaque white already accumulating at the tiny slit of his hole, threatening to slip loose and trail down the hilt of the plug. He’s slick and shining up the expanse of his folds, drenched and blooming open with the split of Shane’s thighs.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ilya mutters. “Keep them spread.”
Ilya glances up at Shane’s sweat-dappled face, and taps the vibrating head against his hardened and exposed clit for no more than half a second.
Shane keens through gritted teeth, bucking up toward the toy, and whining when the sensation is gone.
“Feel good?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Want more?”
“Yes, please. Fuck, yes, please,” he whimpers.
“Hold your thighs down for me. I want a clear canvas to work.”
Shane’s palms slap onto his inner thighs, pressing down to hold them in place. “Whatever you want. Please.”
The toy hits his clit again, but this time it stays. Shane cries out, hips lifting, but his legs remain wide.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shane chants, grinding his hips both toward and away from the intense vibration.
“Is just the first setting, baby. Is it too much?” He mocks, knowing exactly how much Shane can take.
Shane shakes his head vehemently, humping up against the toy until Ilya presses it harder against his clit and Shane goes momentarily speechless.
“That’s right, baby. I know, it’s so much, huh? So much for your wet little pussy.”
Noises rip past his vocal cords finally, his hips grinding wildly, moaning feverishly as his skin flushes from head to toe. “Ilya, I’m…”
“You gonna come, baby?”
Shane just hums affirmatively, nodding jerkily.
“I will not be mean. I will get more from you. You can come, baby.”
Shane pushes out an audible huff, keening as he fucks his clit against the wand, until his body goes taut all at once, a raspy gasp leaving him as the orgasm rips through his body. A small stream of liquid spills from his cunt, traveling down the part of Shane’s ass and puddling onto the sheets before it absorbs down to the waterproof layer. Ilya smiles, rolling the vibrating head from side to side on his sensitive bud until his hips twitch in rejection and the stream from his entrance ceases. He chuckles quietly, pressing the power button to give him a brief respite.
“What a beautiful boy, coming so pretty for me like that,” he croons, poising the drenched toy at Shane’s panting lips. He doesn’t need instructions. Shane’s mouth latches onto what he can reach, licking and sucking his juices off the head. “We should get a spreader bar. So I can keep your legs all open for me and I can tie your hands to the bed. Totally at my mercy.”
He moans into the massive tip of the wand, nodding his head as he continues to clean.
“So hungry,” Ilya rumbles, circling a thumb over his hot, throbbing clit as Shane gasps. “You want another?”
“Break,” Shane sighs.
“No,” Ilya says authoritatively, pulling the toy with a slick release from Shane’s sucking lips. “You will give me another.”
Shane whines again, his legs still gently trembling. Ilya turns the power on again, upping the setting one notch, and the vibration increases in aggression.
“What? Too much now? You were begging for it a second ago, no?” Ilya goads, pressing the wand onto the slit of his cunt instead of directly on his clit, and Shane groans, involuntarily grinding down on the toy, gradually becoming more insistent in his movements. “You want it now, huh? Your greedy little clit wants more?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just holds the head to Shane’s sensitive bud and watches lustfully as Shane’s body strains and humps against the vibration. It doesn’t even take Shane climaxing before he’s leaking again, rivulets flowing down his heated skin and into the sheets.
“That’s so good, мой котик. Getting so wet for me,” he praises, dragging the tip from his clit down to his entrance and pressing the vibration to his soaked hole.
Shane releases a strangled moan, rolling his hips down onto the toy, like he wants to suck it inside himself. Ilya smiles, thrusting the head against his slit and blocking the flow of his juices intermittently, and observing it gushing out as soon as he lifts it free.
“Fuck, Shane. You love being my soaked little whore,” he groans, sliding the toy down to the base of the plug.
Shane wheezes out a strained, “Jesus!” and Ilya sees his stomach lurch. “Fuck, that’s—” he cuts himself off with a breathless squeak as the bulb vibrates inside him from the force of the wand. His abdomen tenses, and he cries out loudly as Ilya sends him over the edge, the plug clearly nestled against his prostate with the intensity with which he scrabbles at the sheets and his face dips purple for a moment before toning back down.
Liquid shoots from his cunt, not yet the spray that Ilya is looking for, but it’s closer. He wants it spectacular. He wants a shower. He can get him there. He’s been there before.
Ilya soothes him with soft shushing noises as his body trembles, shutting off the toy again and kissing his dripping forehead. He strokes his broad hands up his shaking thighs and captures his lips with his own. Overall, Shane’s movements are lax against his, but he doesn’t mind. He infuses his kiss with adoration and admiration for what Shane is enduring for him.
“Ilya,” he pants against him. “Break.”
He stares down at him, taking in the sheen and flush on his face, the droplets of perspiration streaming down from his temples. He runs a thumb over his slick forehead. “What do you think I’m going to say?”
“Ilya. Please,” he whines.
“Do you have something else you want to say?” Ilya offers, giving him the chance to bow out if he chooses to with his safeword.
Shane groans, but he shakes his head.
“You’re so strong,” he coos, raking his fingers through his damp hair, and Shane’s eyes flicker closed at the gesture. “So brave for me, baby. You’re so good.”
“I wanna be good,” he whines, tilting his head and offering his lips again.
“You are, любовь моя. So fucking perfect for me. So good,” he placates, slipping his thumb into his mouth instead of gifting his lips. “Show me how good you can be, yeah?”
Shane moans around the finger, taking it as Ilya thrusts it deeper and deeper into his mouth, his legs finally stilling from their restlessness at the grounding gesture.
“There we go. You’re okay, baby. You can take more.” Shane’s eyes go soft, a silent plea still present, but not as aggressive as before. “What if sometime soon I stretch you open enough to take the whole head of this big toy. Would you like that, baby?”
Shane inhales deeply at the thought, scraping his teeth over the pad of Ilya’s thumb. But he nods, licking over skin again and hollowing his cheeks around it, bobbing his head of his own accord and putting on a little show for him.
“Christ, you’re so pretty. So pretty when you’re proud to be my little slut, huh?”
Shane just mumbles around the digit, “More.”
“Good boy. Lay back down. Give daddy what he wants, yes? Let it all out for me.”
Within a couple minutes, and one notch higher on the wand, he could tell this one was different. This was the one he wanted. The contortion on Shane’s face, the agonized pleasure lining his features, the rotation of his hips, the constant rush of wetness pouring from him. Shane isn’t speaking anymore, at least nothing comprehensible to Ilya. It was babbling, moaning, keening, his hips twitching and bucking against the toy.
“Yes, like that baby. Fuck, you’re so close,” Ilya groans, readjusting his hold on the toy against his screaming clit and slipping two fingers into his sopping cunt, curling them just right and massaging against his G spot as he’s done thousands of times before.
Shane doesn’t even get out a fully-formed “fuck” before his body is curving beautifully and his cunt is spraying around Ilya’s fingers.
“Fuck yes, Shane, just like that,” he moans, pressing the toy harder against him and thrusting against that spot inside him until it builds and he can withdraw his fingers, watching the wetness jet from him in a cascade, puddles forming on the sheets, and juices overflowing Ilya’s palm. He doesn’t remove the toy until Shane’s body is rigid and heaving, the tidal wave having finally ebbed, and the sheets absorbing the welcome mess.
“Oh, baby,” he caresses, tossing the toy aside and pulling Shane into him, shivering along his skin, teeth chattering. One ankle exhaustedly searches, finally hooks around Ilya’s calf and he instinctively pulls Shane in tighter. “My precious boy,” he mutters, kissing his hair.
When Shane slumps back onto the bed, Ilya slips down, mouthing at his slick thighs and sucking the wetness from his skin.
“Ilya,” Shane slurs, waving a hand clearly meant to shoo him away.
“Shane,” he responds, ignoring the protest and dragging his tongue gratuitously along his leg.
“I have to piss,” he groans.
“I’m sure you do. What do you think the sheets are for?” Ilya glances up from beneath his lashes, a mischievous smile stretching his lips.
“Fuck,” Shane swears quietly, throwing his hands wide onto the bed and sinking into the mattress fully.
“Are you gonna piss for me?” He tempts, knowing that he’s going to get what he wants regardless.
Shane whimpers, lifting his head to look at him. “How good are these sheets?”
“The best.”
“You want me to piss in our bed?” Shane groans.
Ilya exhales a laugh and shifts up to hover over his husband, smiling down at him. “Yes, Shane. I want you to piss in our bed. The bathroom is boring.” He drops down and kisses him passionately, feeling Shane’s energy slowly return as he gives back what he gets. Ilya drifts a finger down, using a single pad to swirl circles around his abused clit and send his hips skyward again with a sharp, wincing pull of air through clenched teeth. He peppers kisses along Shane’s jaw, up to his ear and whispers, “Piss for daddy, baby. Soak these fancy, expensive new sheets for me.”
The anxiety is present on his face, but Ilya can see him fighting it. He’s right, they’ve never dabbled in this outside of the bathroom, where cleanup is quick and without risk of staining or dramatic mess. Shane doesn’t love mess. But he does love Ilya. That much he knows.
“It will be just fine,” he reassures, stroking his hair. “Like I said, these sheets are very good. Made for what I’m asking you to do. Will be fine. Да?”
Shane nods, attempting to push past his nerves. “Да. Yeah.”
“Good boy. Just let it go for me. Let me see.” He scoots himself back, placing his hands on Shane’s propped knees and spreading him open again.
“Okay. Give me a second,” Shane says quietly, closing his eyes and settling into the pillows.
He looks gorgeous as he focuses himself, his abdomen unclenching, a wrinkle forming between his brows, and his skin renewing its flush. He lets out a measured breath, and then the first trickle flows out.
Ilya hums in approval and arousal, hydrated piss from his morning workout bleeding onto the white terry cloth. “Perfect,” he sighs, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and observing him with rapt attention.
The stream suddenly bursts from him as he fully allows himself to release, piss gushing from his slit and further drenching the material beneath him. Shane bites his own lip, his back arching slightly as he moans through his demanded task.
“Fuck,” Ilya breathes in wonder, leaning forward and not thinking before slipping two fingers into his cunt as the torrent continues. Shane throws his head back in a moaning gasp as Ilya manipulates his stream, fingers fucking up against his pussy and altering the flow of his pissing hole into pressured spurts flooding his hand.
Shane’s noises revert to nonsensical blabbering once more as Ilya begins to jostle the plug still installed in his ass, the only recognizable word being Ilya’s name interspersed among the sounds.
“So fucking pretty, Shane. Мой маленький водопад. My little waterfall,” he growls, thrusting his fingers harder as piss pours down from his wrist, torrenting over the skin of his inner forearm and trickling off to dampen the fabric beneath them as Shane begins to shake again.
The deluge of piss starts to ebb, slowing to a stop as Shane’s hands clutch at the pillow above his head, keening as Ilya refuses to slow his movements.
“Again, котик? Did that turn you on so much? You want to give me another?” He asks, dipping into condescension as Shane whimpers uncontrollably, his legs quivering around Ilya’s waist where they now squeeze tightly in search of purchase and stabilization. “Ask me, малыш. Tell me what you want.”
Shane presses his eyes shut, whining through his closed lips. He finally stutters out, “C-c-come. P-p-please.”
“Such a good boy. Спасибо, малыш. Let go.”
His body arches entirely off the soiled sheets, his hand flying up to dig his nails into the back of Ilya's neck for some semblance of grounding. Ilya spouts praise upon praise for the gorgeous man beneath him, destroyed at his hands, glistening in his own filth and boneless from excess pleasure as he lands back onto the bed. Shane’s chest heaves, tiny whimpers filtering out as his body regulates with intermittent jolts and shivers. Ilya covers Shane’s body with his own, kissing chastely over his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, soothing him back to a state of calm.
“You’re so good. You’re so fucking good. Я тебя люблю, Shane. My perfect boy.”
Shane’s eyes flutter open, his face glowing with flush and euphoria, and what looks a lot, in Ilya's experience, like love. “Hi.”
“Hello, beautiful husband,” Ilya smiles, threading his less soiled hand through Shane’s hair. He’s blissed out enough that he doesn’t even notice, doesn’t comment, just hums and leans into the gesture.
“That was…”
Ilya wrinkles his nose, his grin broadening. “A nice workout before breakfast?”
Shane gives a small laugh through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Yeah. That.”
“Would you like me to bring you breakfast in bed?”
“Do I want to eat my first meal wading in my own squirt and piss? No. I’m not you,” Shane jabs, the smile fighting his cheeks.
Ilya rolls his eyes. “So civilized. God forbid I appreciate my husband’s body,” he teases, kissing his lips with indulgence, just to hear Shane moan against him. “Go take a long, hot shower. I will change sheets, make you breakfast. Be a good husband after pulling you apart. Plan?”
Shane grins against his lips, groping Ilya’s ass through his pants. “Plan. And then I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll be sorry about the hell you just put me through,” he throws back at him.
“Oh, no, please don’t,” he replies flatly, taunting. “Please don’t torture my cock for hours, Shane. Worst day off ever.”
“Fuck you,” Shane says, laughing his way through the words and smacking his ass.
Ilya grins into his mouth. “Can’t wait.”