The Long Game (Game Changers #6)(47)

“You smell like weed,” Shane said when Ilya finally let him breathe.

“You’d know.”

“I know what weed smells like,” Shane said testily.

Ilya grinned at him. “You’re here.”

“Yeah.” Shane smiled shyly. “Is that okay? You sent that photo and I’ve just been—fuck, I missed you so much.”

Ilya kissed him again, then said, “You want to get fucked by a gladiator, Hollander?”

Shane gazed up at him through his dark lashes. “I put a plug in before I left.”

Holy shit.

With a growl, Ilya began stripping Shane of his puffy jacket, and then all of the rest of his clothes. “Fucking help me,” Ilya snarled as he tugged at Shane’s track pants.

Shane laughed and pressed his smile into Ilya’s neck as he toed off his sneakers, then stepped out of his pants and underwear. Once Shane was naked, Ilya grabbed his thighs and hitched him up until Shane’s strong legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist. Ilya carried him to the living room like that, kissing him the entire way. He slid a hand down to Shane’s ass, found the base of the plug, and pressed on it.

“Oh fuck,” Shane gasped.

“You drove the whole way here with this in?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That,” Ilya said as he carefully tugged at the toy, “is very slutty.”

“Not as slutty as that costume.” Shane relaxed his legs from around Ilya’s body and stood back. He ran his gaze appreciatively over Ilya. “Jesus.”

Ilya smiled. Maybe the costume wasn’t so ridiculous after all. “Worth the drive?”

“Fuck yeah.” Then Shane was back in Ilya’s arms, kissing him with a hand gripping the back of Ilya’s neck.

Ilya played with the toy some more, tapping the base, then pulling it nearly out before slowly pushing it back in. Shane shuddered, then whimpered, then bit Ilya’s shoulder.

“Is it safe even,” Ilya asked, “to wear a plug for so long?”

“Yeah,” Shane said breathlessly. “I Googled it.”

Ilya grinned, imagining it. He was going to tease him some more about it, but Shane cut him off by dropping to his knees.

“Been thinking about this all night,” Shane said, gazing up at him with dark, lust-drunk eyes. Then he flipped the front of Ilya’s skirt up and hauled Ilya’s underwear down. Ilya hadn’t even finished stepping out of them before Shane wrapped his lips around his hard cock.

“Shane,” Ilya breathed. Shane didn’t need any costume pieces to look like a fantasy. He was absolutely beautiful, on his knees for Ilya. He was always so beautiful.

Ilya’s eyes prickled with tears as he watched him, which was weird and alarming. He closed his eyes, hoping Shane hadn’t noticed. Ilya had felt oddly fragile all night, and the wonderful surprise of having Shane here combined with the fervent way his dick was being worshipped was too much.

Enough. Time to take control of himself and this situation. He took a step back, enjoying the way Shane fell forward a bit, chasing his dick, and said, “Did you come here for this, or did you come here to get fucked?”

Shane blinked up at him. “Shit,” he said quietly.

Ilya smiled. “Stand up. Turn around.”

Shane obediently got himself in position, gripping the arm of the sofa, and Ilya grabbed a packet of lube from a discreet little box on the mantel behind him. He’d learned to keep lube in most rooms of the house.

He slicked himself up, then played with the toy in Shane’s ass a bit more, pressing on it, and turning it slowly. Shane moaned and wriggled his hips, then gasped when the toy bumped up against his prostate.

“How did you drive all this way,” Ilya asked, “without coming?”

“It was close,” Shane gritted out. “I had to pull over once and—fuck—readjust.”

Ilya chuckled, and twisted the toy again. “So dangerous. Driving in that condition. Irresponsible.”

“Fucking hurry up,” Shane complained.

Ilya complied by sliding the toy out of him in one steady pull while Shane gasped and arched his back. Ilya tossed the toy on the floor and lined himself up. “Is this what you came here for?”

“Yes. Come on.”

Ilya pushed into him, gripping Shane’s hips tightly to hold him steady. Shane’s body welcomed him, already loose and open. It felt like heaven.

Shane cried out, and Ilya started a steady rhythm, thrusting into Shane so hard the couch slid a few inches across the floor. The room that had so recently been full of people and music and drunken laughter was now filled only with the slap of Ilya pounding into Shane, his own rough breathing, and Shane’s moans of pleasure.

“Fucking love you so much,” Shane panted. “Needed this.”

Ilya grunted, and planted a hand between Shane’s shoulder blades, pushing him down until his arms buckled and his chest rested on the arm of the couch.

“Holy—” Shane gasped. “That’s perfect. Oh my god. Don’t stop.”

Ilya didn’t want to stop, but he could feel his orgasm building already. He reached for Shane’s cock, wrapping his hand around it, and started stroking.

“Wait,” Shane gritted out. “Wanna see you.”

Ilya didn’t argue. He pulled out and flipped Shane over, then tilted him back until he fell onto the couch cushions with his ass resting on the arm. Ilya grabbed his thighs, pulled him up and toward him, and sank back into him.