Chapter Text
Ilya will be the first to admit that it would be sort of awesome to get Shane pregnant.
In the sense that it would be hot.
Filling Shane up, not worrying about the risks, letting himself crumble to his instinctive urges…
Hot. Yes. It would be hot.
Looking at him now, like this, balanced on all fours, with his spine curved and his head thrown back, all for Ilya, makes Ilya feel that wild, instinctive urge.
He fights to focus on the task at hand— fucking Shane as hard as he can— and not get distracted with thoughts of biting Shane’s neck, holding him down and rutting into him to completion.
It would just feel so right.
But those are crazy, impossible thoughts. Those are the thoughts that make up the fantasies that Ilya plays out for himself when he needs to get off by himself, quickly. It could never happen for them. Not in this lifetime.
Still, it’s nice to imagine, and Ilya loses himself to that wild feeling as he drives into Shane’s hot, tight cunt. Shane squeezes around him, never willing to let Ilya go far for very long. He sobs below Ilya, moans and whimpers that make Ilya want to take care of him forever.
“So good for me,” Ilya says, out of breath, his voice rasping. He reaches forward with one hand to grab the hair at the back of Shane’s head, tugging it hard so Shane’s gaze is forced to the ceiling. “You are perfect.”
He is perfect. His ass is smooth and round and jiggles from the impact of each thrust, his skin retaining the shape of Ilya’s hand when he slaps either cheek. His pussy is swollen, hot, so wet for Ilya always, so— perfect.
It’s all so much and so good and so worth it.
Shane is too far gone for words. He whimpers something that sounds similar to thank you and that’s all it takes for Ilya to break. He comes, immediately and hard, pushing himself deeper into Shane to be even closer.
He fills the condom and then takes a long moment to catch his breath. Shane stays still beneath him, holding the weight of Ilya’s body as he comes down.
Ilya holds onto his softening cock as he pulls out, then goes to peel off the condom.
Shane tries to turn onto his back then, but Ilya strikes out his free hand to stop him from looking. In his other hand, he holds up the used condom.
The used, broken condom.
“Oh,” Ilya says, quietly, hopefully without his rising bright point of panic evident in his voice.
Shane ignores the way Ilya tries to stop him from turning over again. He sits up quickly and looks from Ilya’s stoic face to the mess in his hands.
“What happened?” Shane asks, looking entirely too innocent and unassuming for a man who was just on all fours.
“It broke,” Ilya says like it’s obvious. He shrugs one shoulder in a helpless gesture, then frowns as the mess amongst his fingers begins to cool.
“What? What do you mean?” Shane yelps, then grabs Ilya’s wrist to bring the broken condom closer for inspection. His nose wrinkles as he looks at it. “How does it just— break?”
“Probably from my very large cock,” Ilya says, sighing.
“Ilya—”
Oh, first names are never good. Ilya cringes internally.
“Hollander,” he says, aiming for calm and uncaring, even if his heart is starting to race. “It is fine. It happens.”
“It can’t happen.”
“It won’t happen,” Ilya says, then throws the broken, bastard of a condom in the vicinity of the trash can, then uses his now-free hand to grab ahold of Hollander’s face. “There is this pill. A magic pill. It will make all your problems go away.”
“I know what Plan B is,” Shane says, grumbling, luckily too distracted with panic to notice or care about Ilya’s dirty hands on his face.
“Good. Then why are you panicking?”
“I can’t—” Shane closes his eyes and licks over his lips. When he looks at Ilya again, he looks scared. “I can still get… pregnant, you know.”
“I know,” Ilya says with one miserable attempt at wiggling his eyebrows.
Shane does not look amused. “But I can’t get pregnant. Not with you.”
Ilya feigns a look of being scandalized. “Oh, but with someone else?”
“Not anyone,” Shane clarifies, closing his eyes again. “I can’t.”
Ilya nods, then leans closer to kiss Shane’s forehead. His skin is warm and damp with sweat. His body feels so good being so close.
If Ilya is being honest, which he won’t be, he feels almost—
Ilya smiles to himself before pushing Shane onto his back.
“You will take magic pill tomorrow,” Ilya says before grabbing each of Shane’s legs and pushing his knees towards his chest. “Do you know what that means?”
Despite the clear terror on his face, Shane looks curious, and he doesn’t resist the easy parting of his legs, his pussy on clear display. “What?”
Ilya kisses each of Shane’s knees before he lines himself up, his cock excelling at getting hard again.
“It means I can come in you as many times as I want tonight.”
Shane immediately snaps his legs closed, sitting up with a bolt of panic. “Ilya—”
“Shane,” Ilya says, putting a hand on Shane’s chest and petting downwards, all the way down, until he finally gets to Shane’s pussy. His thumb brushes over Shane’s clit, light strokes that slowly make Shane’s legs open again. “It is okay?”
Shane lets out a long, shaky breath, then finally leans all the way back.
“It’s okay.”
Fueled by something that has never come over him before, Ilya wastes no time in sinking into Shane. It feels— better would be a discredit to what they have done together before, but yes, it is better, it is more, because it is closer.
All Ilya can feel is Shane’s heat. It’s immediate and overwhelming, enveloping Ilya so completely. It’s a feeling he could get lost in, spend days in.
He groans as he sinks in further, until his own hip bones are pressed flush to Shane’s ass.
Maybe Shane can’t feel the difference the way Ilya can, but the fact that there even is a difference is evident on Shane’s face. He looks worried, the way he looks when he can’t let something go.
“Hey,” Ilya says, reaching up to touch Shane’s chin, bringing their gaze to each other’s. “Okay?”
“It’s just—” Shane sucks in his breath, then lets it out slowly, relaxing around Ilya. “Scary.”
“The worst has happened,” Ilya says, leaning over Shane’s body so they can be face to face. There is nothing at all in the world between them now. They’re as close as they ever could be. “I won’t hurt you.”
Shane puts a hand over Ilya’s cheek, his thumb brushing against Ilya’s skin soothingly.
“I’m scared by how badly I want this,” Shane says, so surely, then crosses his legs behind Ilya’s back.
That’s all the yes that Ilya needs. With a quick kiss to wherever his mouth can reach, he begins to fuck Shane in earnest. It’s sensitive, with his cock already spent but eager to continue. It’s exhausting, with all of Ilya’s muscles overworked and sore, but he does not slow down.
He fucks Shane’s pussy in the way he’s always wanted to, without inhibition, with abandon. He claims it as his own, because it is. He savors every wet sound and the slick slide out and his heart only truly settles once he’s all the way back in.
His orgasm builds quickly, with excitement, like there’s some feral dog within his soul that’s been waiting for this forever, tail wagging. He can’t help but stutter forward, his body overstimulated and excited to finally, finally finish inside Shane.
With nothing else to do but come, Ilya bites at the junction of Shane’s neck and shoulder, then lets go.
He groans as he comes, undulating forward in an unrelenting wave. He feels every pulse of his cock, every spurt. He feels the way Shane clenches around him, tighter and tighter with every second of Ilya’s release.
“Fuck,” Ilya gasps against Shane’s sensitive skin, before nuzzling that same spot with his nose and then kissing it.
Below him, Shane is gasping, his entire body strung tight. He clings to Ilya’s back and keeps his legs locked around him, not letting him slide out once he’s finished.
“Shane,” Ilya whispers, kissing Shane’s temple quickly. “I want to see.”
Shane stays locked up for another second before realization seems to dawn on him. He nods, shakily, then lets Ilya go.
With great difficulty, Ilya extricates himself from Shane’s embrace and pulls out. It’s agony to be suddenly surrounded by cold air and not Shane’s sweet, wet heat, but Ilya ignores the discomfort in favor of keeping Shane’s legs spread.
His hole is fucked open, gaping, clenching around nothing. Ilya growls a little at the sight, wanting nothing more than to close his mouth around it and taste, but he waits.
He waits for the first sign of his cum leaking out, slowly but surely, pearly white as it drips from Shane’s opening.
There’s not much, unfortunately, but Ilya watches with wide eyes as it dribbles out.
Then, without his own conscious consent, Ilya gets onto the bed and settles between Shane’s legs. He wraps his hands around Shane’s thighs to keep him open, then uses his tongue to push the remnants of his cum back inside Shane.
He isn’t sure he’s ever tasted himself this way. It doesn’t really have a flavor, but mixed with Shane, it’s perfect. He licks up every drop, then can’t stop, can’t pull away. He licks into Shane until Shane starts to shake, until Shane’s thighs close around Ilya’s head.
Ilya wants to utter something, wants to say how good Shane tastes, but his jaw stays slack and his mouth won’t close.
Shane comes with a silenced cry, his hips lifting off the bed and his hands fisted in Ilya’s hair.
Ilya doesn’t stop until Shane starts to pull at his hair, his thighs starting to tremble.
Ilya pulls back slowly, not wanting to look away from the view of Shane’s pretty little hole, still delicately twitching around nothing.
“Jesus Christ,” Shane mutters, throwing an arm over his face to hide his blush.
Ilya stares. First at Shane’s face and then at his cunt. He sees him in a way he never has before. In a light he didn’t know existed.
Suddenly, this is all he wants. To breed Shane. To make him scream his name as he takes another load.
He knows it’s some sort of primal feeling, something that should be ignored and forgotten because they can’t, but— today they can.
“Again,” Ilya says, half in question.
Shane freezes, even his breathing pausing. He takes a moment before lowering his arm so he can stare at Ilya.
“You can’t,” Shane says, dumbfounded. He looks to Ilya’s cock and then to his face, as if in question. “Can you?”
Have to Ilya thinks, then surges forward to kiss Shane’s mouth.
Shane grimaces at first, maybe at the taste of himself on Ilya’s lips, but Ilya kisses him too hard and too fiercely for him to complain about it.
They kiss for a while, minutes, until the buzzing in Ilya’s body becomes a quiet, dull throb. His cock fills without much effort on his or Shane’s part, ready to sink into Shane again and give him whatever Ilya has left.
“Turn around,” Ilya orders, the words whispered just below Shane’s ear.
Shane gets onto his hands and knees again, his entire body flushed. It’s hard to believe, looking at him like this, how he is outside of this room. How strongwilled he is, how stubborn he can be.
Ilya groans as he looks at Shane from behind. He takes his cock into one hand and gives it a slow, excruciating pump until he’s fully hard again. It hurts. He likes that it hurts.
He has never felt so determined before. It feels like there’s something alive in his chest, dying to get out. To be inside of Shane. To claim him.
He presses a heavy hand between Shane’s shoulder blades to send him further down to the bed, then keeps his hand on Shane’s body to have perfect control over him.
Not that Shane moves much once Ilya has him in position. He breathes shallowly and stays quiet, until the moment that Ilya enters him again.
Then Shane moans, long and loud, like his body needs this, too.
It’s all instinctual. Ilya forgets how to function. He forgets that he is even human, feeling all machine, like a beast, like something made for this one, simple reason— to get Shane pregnant.
Ilya gets as close to Shane as possible. He drapes himself along his back and throws both arms around him, keeping him locked in tight. All that moves are his hips, pistoning in and out of Shane.
He’s so oversensitive, aching, but he knows he only has one more chance at this and his body won’t let him give it up.
He fills Shane over and over again, until his third orgasm all but bleeds from him.
He cries as he bites at whatever patch of Shane’s skin he can reach. It feels endless, emptying into him. Shane stays still, like the good boy he is, taking it all without complaint.
This time, Ilya moves quickly. He pulls off of Shane and sits back on his heels to watch. Pride fills his own chest as he watches his seed drip from Shane’s pussy, so much of it that it feels almost endless.
Ilya growls, lowly, mostly to himself, as he reaches out with faint fingertips to trace the line of his cum down Shane’s thigh.
Shane twitches, shivering, his body still bent over on the bed.
“So good,” Ilya whispers, petting over Shane’s hip. “So good for me, Shane.”
Shane nods, the only movement he seems to be capable of.
After another eternity of staring, Ilya snaps out of it and is quick to collect Shane into his arms. He holds him close, nuzzling into the space of his neck and giving quiet kisses along it.
And Ilya can’t help it, not really, not with how proud he feels— without thinking, he rubs a hand over Shane’s belly and briefly imagines it being bigger than it is. Rounder. Fuller.
“Ilya,” Shane says, remorseful, squirming out of Ilya’s hold.
Ilya growls again and pulls Shane even closer, breathing him in. “Let me imagine, okay?”
“We can’t.”
“Shh, we aren’t,” Ilya murmurs against his warm, flushed skin. “We aren’t.”
Shane holds Ilya back, with both his arms wrapped around Ilya’s neck. He finally lets out his breath then rests his head on Ilya’s shoulder, relaxing.
“We aren’t,” Shane agrees, even though he sounds sad about it, too.