The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(110)

“Want to be railed by your boyfriend?”

Shane’s eyes darkened. “Fuck yes.”

Their mouths crashed back together. Ilya gripped Shane’s hair, still mostly wet from the shower he’d obviously just taken. He smelled like seaweed shampoo and sport bodywash and tasted like toothpaste. Ilya wanted to devour him.

“Make me forget everything,” Shane murmured. “Just want to feel you.” He started walking backward toward the living room, clutching Ilya’s coat, pulling him closer.

Ilya broke the kiss to check on Anya. She’d found one of her toys on the living room floor and was chomping happily on it in her dog bed.

Ilya removed his coat and sneakers, leaving them in a pile by the door. “This way,” he said, and took Shane’s hand.

“The hell?” Shane said when he realized Ilya had led him to his trophy room.

Ilya just smiled at him.

“No way,” Shane said. “Weird.”

“Is it?” Ilya asked, trailing a finger along Shane’s jaw. “I thought you need a reminder, before our meeting tomorrow.”

“Reminder of what?” Shane said faintly as he tipped his head to the side and closed his eyes.

Ilya kissed just under his jaw, then in front of his ear. “Of who the fuck you are.”

Shane gasped and grabbed a fistful of Ilya’s T-shirt, as if to steady himself. “Yes,” he whispered. “Remind me.”

Ilya hauled him over to a leather armchair in the middle of the room. It was facing a wall of glass shelves that held miniature versions of Shane’s three Stanley Cups, and of all the individual trophies he’d won during his career. Other shelves displayed various game pucks that were mounted and labeled with their achievements. There were also frames displaying his Team Canada jerseys from the World Juniors and the Olympics. On a smaller, lower shelf, boxes displayed his Stanley Cup rings and his gold and silver medals.

“Look at all of this,” Ilya said as he bent Shane over the chair with a firm hand between his shoulder blades. “You almost need two rooms.”

Shane didn’t say anything as he braced himself on the sturdy arms of the chair with both hands, but his breathing had sped up. Ilya yanked Shane’s gym shorts and underwear down together and let them pool at his feet. He slid his T-shirt up his back until it bunched across his shoulders and left it there.

Ilya bent over him, putting his weight on Shane’s back for a moment. He brushed his lips against Shane’s ear and said, “Stay there.”

Then he straightened and headed for the door.

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“To get lube,” Ilya said easily. “You know how sex works by now, yes?”

“Hurry up, then,” Shane said bitchily.

Ilya, of course, took his time. He headed up to the bedroom, grabbed a bottle of lube and a clean hand towel, then, after a moment’s consideration, went back to the nightstand and retrieved the vibrating cock ring he’d given Shane for his birthday last year.

He went back downstairs but didn’t return to the trophy room right away. He checked on Anya, found her asleep in her bed, then went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He drank it slowly, trying to ignore how badly he wanted to race back to that room.

But that wasn’t the game they were playing. He’d leave Shane in that room, naked and bent over a chair and surrounded by his proudest moments, because it was what Shane needed.

Finally, Ilya sauntered back into the trophy room. Shane hadn’t moved a muscle. Ilya had to fight to control his breathing, to not give away how exquisitely Shane was destroying him with his obedience.

“Fucking finally,” Shane snarled. “Did you go to the store or something?”

“No,” Ilya said. He rubbed some lube on the silicone cock ring, keeping it out of Shane’s sight. Then he loosened the toggle to expand the ring and reached around Shane’s body to find his—of course—rigid cock.

“Oh shit,” Shane said when he realized what Ilya was doing.

“Would be easier to do this if you were soft. But you never are, so.”

“I am sometimes,” Shane argued.

“Not when I am around.” Ilya went to one knee beside him so he could get a better view of what he was doing. Once he got the ring in place, he tightened the toggle behind Shane’s balls.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed.

Ilya cradled his cock in one hand, gently rubbing a thumb along one prominent vein. “How does this feel?”

“Like my heart is in my dick. Like everything is in my fucking dick.”

“Mm,” Ilya hummed. He slid his thumb over the angry red head of Shane’s cock, and pushed into the slit.

Shane’s body jerked, and he sucked in a breath. “Jesus.”

“Which is your favorite?” Ilya asked conversationally as he continued to rub the head of Shane’s cock. “Of all of these trophies?”

“Rookie of the Year,” Shane said quickly, and smugly.

Ilya huffed. “Fucker.” He flicked Shane’s dick, making him yelp, and then moan.

Ilya grabbed the lube and stood. He slicked his fingers then, without any further warning, pressed his thumb to Shane’s hole.

“Oh fuck,” Shane whimpered. He stepped back, stretching his arms until they were almost as straight as they could go, so he could bend forward more and lift his ass.