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In hindsight, everything that led up to this moment in Shane Hollander's life is probably a mistake.
He has no idea how he thought he could do this, let alone completely alone.
He had done so much research and careful planning but, as it turns out, you can only do so much planning when it comes to mother nature, which he has very humbly learned in the last week. Turns out nature is one hell of a variable.
He is now officially one of those privileged assholes who romanticized Chris McCandless without understanding the reality.
It seemed like such a great idea at first. He is a strong and capable person who is reasonably fit from years of playing hockey throughout his entire childhood and adolescence.
He had graduated college in good shape with a desire for adventure and a job that didn't start until the end of the summer.
It seemed like the perfect plan. Hike as much of the Pacific Crest Trail as he could over the summer by himself.
Yuna Hollander had nearly had a stroke when he told her his plan. Honestly, he was more scared to tell her than of the actual trek itself.
His dad had talked her off the ledge, had argued with her in support of Shane.
Shane had dropped the news during a family dinner, the week before he was set to leave on his trip. He had planned to tell them much sooner, but he had chickened out each time. At first he had plenty of time to have the conversation. Three months was plenty! Then three months turned to two, then one, then before he knew it he had only a week to go and he still hadn't said a word.
His mom had laughed at first, thinking it was a joke. When she stared hard into Shane's eyes and only saw sincerity, she threw down her napkin and shook her head no over and over.
“He's a grown man, Yuna,” his dad had insisted, trying to talk her down in the kitchen while Shane sat in the dining room miserably burying his head in his arms.
“Besides, how many camping and fishing trips have we taken him on since he was a kid? He has outdoor skills. He has grown up outside with the dirt and the trees. Let him do this.”
Eventually Shane had dissociated enough that he hadn't heard much else. All he knows is that an hour later his mom had come back to the table, eyes tired and rimmed red from crying, telling Shane he better give them access to his location and his GPS tracker and check in every time he is in a town with cell service.
When he showed her his spreadsheets breaking down everything including average weather forecasts, local wildlife and plants, locations where he'd planned to have supply drops mailed to himself, average amount of miles he planned to walk each day, estimated days he anticipated he'd stop in towns that likely had cell service, and an alphabetized list of every item he planned to carry in his pack, she had relaxed at least the tiniest bit.
If there's anything Yuna and Shane Hollander can agree on, it's a carefully organized spreadsheet.
She kept asking why. Why does he want to do this? He gave some weak answers about wanting to push himself and test his limits, take advantage of this time of his life where he's an adult but not quite saddled with all of the responsibilities of adulthood yet that will make something like this impossible in the future.
The truth is that he is doing it to get away from his mother.
He loves his mom but he is tired of always being managed by her, the feeling of having his life completely dictated by someone else. He understands the love from which it all comes from, and the pressure she feels being a first generation Japanese-Canadian woman who has big shoes to fill. After all, she has to make her own mother's sacrifices all worth it. She has generations of each ancestor before her weighing down her shoulders, and as her son, Shane is next in line to inherit the pressure.
But it dawns on him near his college graduation that his mother has tried so hard to shield him from any pain and hurt in the world that he's never actually lived.
His entire childhood and adolescence was spent doing everything the absolutely correct way. What is the most practical? What is the most optimal? What would make his dead ancestors feel like they had sacrificed their own security and safety for a worthy cause?
While his peers were being normal teens getting into normal trouble and having fun, Shane was always so serious. He trained hard to be great at everything he did, whether it be academics or hockey. To indulge in things like parties, drugs, and excess drinking would jeopardize everything he'd worked so hard for. What would his predecessors think?
But then he finds when it's time to graduate, they all end up in the same position. They're all graduating and going on to bigger and better things. The only difference is that everyone else did it while also having fun and creating priceless memories along the way.
Shane has… nothing.
What was the point in him doing everything to the letter? His graduating class all stood there in one big amphitheatre waiting to have their names called, all wearing the same cap and gowns, all getting the same diploma in the end. It turns out none of that stuff really translates into the real world. None of it matters.
Shane did everything right and his name was called right before the guy on campus who he's pretty sure dealt coke and partied more than he attended any classes. So what was the point?
He's not going to say that it had all been for nothing. He graduated with honors on a hockey scholarship with a cushy job lined up. That's not exactly nothing.
But what memories does he have? Aside from studying alone in the library while everyone else was at parties? It's not like he has no friends at all, and he did have the occasional hookups when it all got to be too much, but where are the deep lifelong bonds he was told he'd forge in college? He has a Facebook page filled with faceless acquaintances who will be forgotten. People he'd been assigned to work with on group projects, the RA who lived down the hall, the guy who let Shane borrow his lecture notes when he got the flu and missed a week of class.
He's not sure what had first planted the idea of solo hiking the PCT in his head. All he knows is that once the idea sparked, it only burned brighter and brighter until he was obsessed. He read countless stories of people finding themselves on the trail, of these epic life epiphanies.
He wants that.
But right now he's sitting on a boulder cursing himself and everything in his life because his shoes are killing his feet so badly he can barely walk. These shoes had come highly recommended from every blog and subreddit he'd come across in his research.
They aren't shit.
He also realized immediately that he overpacked. It turns out that if you scour enough lists of essentials to bring on a hike to the PCT, you'll end up with absolutely everything. And everything weighs a fuck ton.
He had been sure that the solo part of the hike would be the scariest. Truthfully, that's been the one thing he's done right this whole stupid trip.
There's nobody to make awkward small talk with, nobody to argue with him if he wants to keep going just one more mile or take an early break because these goddamn motherfucking shoes are killing him. The only person he has to worry about is himself. There's no crippling doubt that comes with trying to please everyone else.
It's freeing. He's never felt that before.
However, it's not all the time. By nature of the hike and there being so many through hikers coming and going, he runs into others fairly often. This can't really be helped.
Thankfully, there are hikers of all walks of life and personalities so none are offended when he just gives a curt nod or stilted small talk before settling into silence and being on his way. It's easy to tell who wants companionship and to swap stories, and who wants to be left alone. Shane is always grateful and polite when a fellow hiker gives him a warm greeting or a tip about a fallen tree ahead, but he's not looking to make friendships here
The rare times he does get lonely, he's taken to writing something in the guest logs he's come across. So far it has just been two, but writing even a few short sentences about what he's seen or experienced makes it feel like he's telling a friend or his parents.
It makes this all feel real.
One night he's already set up his tent and eaten his protein bar and tuna packet for dinner. He's leaning against a nearby tree reading his well worn copy of Journeys North by Barney Scout Mann.
It's common for hikers to tear the pages out of their books as they read them, to lighten their pack as much as possible. While Shane had offloaded some of his overpacked belongings to a free hiker drop box he'd found a while back, he can't bring himself to destroy a book like that. It just feels wrong.
Suddenly his quiet and solitude is destroyed when a loud group of men enter the campsite. Shane grimaces. It's not like he has any ownership over this site, but the alone time had been nice while it lasted.
Five men come crashing through, loud and boisterous. Oh well, Shane needed to get to sleep anyway. He slips an old receipt paper to mark his place in his book. He'll say a quick hello to not be rude, and then excuse himself to sleep.
“Hey! Nice to see a new face!” A large man who introduces himself as Cliff says with a smile and wave towards Shane. The other men greet him too. Some have trail names, some don't yet.
Shane doesn't have a trail name. He hasn't interacted with enough people or been out on the trail long enough to receive one. He would rather not, anyway. He doesn't want to find out what name people would saddle him with. Probably not anything positive, if his nicknames from bullies growing up is anything to go by.
“There's another one of us too. He's just lagging behind because he had to take a piss. Oh there he is! Hey, Roz! We were just introducing ourselves to our new friend here… sorry, didn't catch your name, bro.”
“Shane."
And then he sees Roz, who is undoubtedly the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his life.
Shane can't imagine the state he's in right now. He hasn't looked in a mirror for several days now. He feels ten layers of grime and filth on his body. He's sure he has bags under his eyes from poor sleep. His feet are all bandaged up from his useless hiking boots.
But Roz… Roz looks like he's just walked out of a fucking advertisement for REI or L.L. Bean.
His body looks tall, strong, and muscled, his dark blonde hair gorgeous and curly, pushed out of his face by a red bandana tied around his head like a sweatband. A few strands that are too stubborn and unruly spill over his bandana, framing his face, making him look like an angel. His eyes made Shane miss the blue rivers and lakes of Canada. He has a piece of licorice hanging out of his full, plush lips. The only thing betraying he’s had any sort of physical exertion is a light sheen of sweat on his skin. But fuck, even this asshole’s sweat just makes him look like he's fucking glowing.
Shane immediately feels guilty for thinking this complete stranger is an asshole for doing nothing but existing beautifully.
Turns out he doesn't need to feel guilty though, because Roz does turn out to be something of an ashole. He doesn't say hello, or introduce himself. Just says "Those shoes are shit.”
“They had good reviews,” Shane says stupidly. Why did he say that? Why does he feel the need to defend himself or his shoes? He agrees they're shit, but Roz doesn't need to be an asshole about it.
“Oh ok, as long as the reviews are good, shit shoes aren't shit shoes,” Roz says.
Roz has a Russian accent which makes him sound even hotter which makes him more annoying.
Shane glares but says nothing and hopes he can just put this whole conversation behind him. He moves to gather his things to settle in his tent for the night.
For a second he thinks Roz looks disappointed, but the man is probably just tired or hungry or something.
“Shane, our newest trail friend, you're not gonna hang with us?” Cliff asks.
Shane hesitates and sighs. He knows he should just go to sleep but… he glances back over at Roz who is hunched over making a campfire with the others, laughing.
It turns out that the other group of men are Shane's actual worst nightmare in terms of hiking strategy.
Meaning, they have no strategy whatsoever. Originally he assumed that they had all known each other prior to setting out on the trail. He assumed they were doing it together as friends with how close they all seem with each other. But of the men, only Cliff and Roz actually knew each other prior to hiking the PCT.
Much like Shane, they had both just graduated from college. Hiking the PCT was a shared pact between them. It started out as a battle of egos, with each telling the other they were full of shit and could never do it. But then as they had gotten closer and closer to graduation they started talking seriously about the idea. However, unlike Shane they're hiking the entire PCT which means they've been hiking for longer.
The others are all men of similar ages. They had similar stories of wanting to be one with nature, wanting to prove they could do something challenging and difficult, wanting to just do it for the plot and make memories and stories along the way.
Shane is mostly quiet and just observes and listens to the other men talk, seeing what he can learn about them.
These men are hiking purely on vibes, it seems. They don't seem to have a plan of hiking any certain amount of miles a day. They had planned enough to also schedule supply drops like Shane had but they didn't at all seem concerned about getting to those drops at any specific time.
In fact, the men seem shocked and impressed by the level of preparedness that Shane had done prior to setting out. Shane shares some of his supplies. He overpacked anyway so lightening his load only helps.
“You guys aren't worried about not having everything you need?” Shane asks while shaking his head. Part of him wishes he could be so carefree but at the same time this is a serious undertaking and he can't believe they all seem so casual about everything.
“I brought vodka. I am Russian. I do not need anything else,” Roz smirks.
Shane is normally a very early riser but he accidentally sleeps in having stayed up later than planned with the other hiking group. He wakes up with a start when he hears rapping on the side of his tent.
“Hey, man!” Someone shouts. “We found a fucking stream!”
Shane is so tired and confused by whatever the fuck is happening right now. The other part of him doesn't care because the idea of water and cleaning off at least a few layers of dirt sounds heavenly.
When he unzips his tent flap it's the guy who said his name was Hazey staring back at him. Some of the guys are gone, assumingly at the stream already. The others look like children who've just been given free reign at a toy store, all giddy and excited as they throw on their shoes.
Shane had known there was a stream somewhere nearby, because apparently unlike these guys he has an actual fucking map, but he didn't realize he was apparently so close. He follows Hazy and two of the others and it's not long before they hit the stream.
He doesn't even think before he's stripping down to his boxer briefs and hopping in. The water is too cold to feel comfortable but he doesn't care. He feels the freezing water shock his system and his brain goes offline. It's miserable but the sun will warm everything up soon enough.
It feels amazing to chip away at the grime on his body. He dunks his head in, relishing the feeling as he shakes his hair to move it out of his eyes and dry it off a bit.
It's only when he opens his eyes that he really computes the scene in front of him. Half the guys, like Shane, are in their underwear. Half of them however, are completely naked.
Roz, of course, being one.
Fucking Europeans.
Roz is turned away from him so all he sees is the muscled expanse of his back, sprinkled with freckles and moles (Shane suddenly gets the thought that he hopes Roz is applying sunscreen regularly. Doubt it.) and his eyes move down until they land on the most full and thick ass he's ever seen on a man.
Shane is struck that he doesn't want to stop staring, and he's suddenly grateful for the freezing water that also helps prevent his dick from getting hard.
Roz doesn't look like he has a single care or qualm in the world about anyone seeing him naked. Shane is no stranger to seeing naked men lounging around. Sort of comes with the territory of playing sports and being in the locker room. Shane doesn't consider himself shy in that regard. But to just frolic in a stream naked out in the open where anyone can see? He could never do that in a million years. It feels decidedly different from a locker room.
And thank God nobody on his team ever looked like Roz. He'd have popped a boner so fast he'd have been humiliated. His team in college had all known he was gay, with varying levels of acceptance, but he doubts even the most open-minded of them would be quite that accepting.
Time to push down all thoughts of boners and glorious Russian asses.
Shane scrubs away as much of the dirt on his body as he can. It's not an exact substitute for a shower, but it feels fucking fantastic.
By the time he chances another glance back over at the other group, Roz has his underwear back on and is stretching out in the sun, warming himself like a cat or a lizard.
Shane does something similar, though he keeps a bit of distance from the other group. He doesn't want to give them the idea he will join their little trail family. That's not why he's here.
Though he has to admit this was a great idea. He feels so relaxed and calm as he slowly dries under the sun. He loses track of time, dosing off under the sun's warmth.
He only cracks an eye open when he feels the presence of someone right beside him. It's Roz. Everyone else has vanished.
“Shit, where did all your friends go?” Shane asks, his voice heavy and slurred with sleep.
“They went to start breakfast,” Roz explains. “I offer to stay back. Make sure pretty boy doesn't get eaten by wild animals.”
Pretty boy?
Suddenly his drowsiness is gone. Fuck, Roz is so close Shane can feel his breath. When did he get so close?
The other man is on his side, braced on an elbow with his head held in his hand, staring at him curiously.
Shane had only seen his backside before. He's wearing underwear now but that's it, so he gets a full view of Roz’s pecs, down to his abdominal muscles, down further to the light happy trail and chiseled muscles of his hips that point like arrows to the space that vanishes in his underwear.
He feels his dick stir. Fuck. He's still in his own underwear, nowhere to hide. He closes his eyes and thinks unsexy thoughts. Of getting eaten by a mountain lion or bit by a rattlesnake or dropping his only map in the water.
When he thinks he's finally got things under control, he chances opening his eyes.
He gasps at the sight in front of him. Roz is looking at him with questioning eyes, stroking his half hard cock through his underwear.
“W-what are you doing?” Shane stutters, swallowing thickly.
Roz looks gorgeous. His perfect body is illuminated in a wash of sun, his damp curls beginning to dry and frizz against his face. His full lips are parted slightly, his breaths shallow and quickening. Shane can see the imprint of his erection through his boxer briefs, fisted lazily in his hand as he strokes himself.
“What does it look like I'm doing?” Roz asks, those parted lips pressing together to form a smirk. “I could use some help, if you want… Do you want?”
Shane wants. He wants so fucking badly.
He nods, and Roz’s breath hitches as he nods back and takes his cock out of his boxer briefs.
It makes his mouth water. Roz's cock isn't even fully hard yet but Shane can already tell it's big, commanding attention.
Shane reaches for the other man's cock before he even has time to think. He leans in so they're both facing each other, laying on their sides, foreheads touching. Shane hesitates just as he's about to touch him, having the presence of mind to lick his own palm first for glide. Roz groans quietly. Shane grasps his cock firmly in his hand.
This is a bad idea for so many reasons. The other guys are not far off, and he doesn't even know Roz. But also… all he has wanted from this trip is to let go and not just let life pass him by. He doesn't want to be in the backseat of his own life.
And Roz is fucking hot, so what harm can this do?
Roz is reaching for Shane’s boxer briefs now, slipping his hand underneath the band and taking out his dick which is already hard just from watching Roz, from everything that's happening.
“You're so hot, Shane,” Ilya gasps, starting a fast pace on Shane's dick. He has to still be sleeping in his tent. This has to be some sort of wet dream that he's going to wake from any moment. Because how did this happen? How did he go from hiking alone for days to now having this gorgeous man’s hand on his cock, telling him how hot he is?
“Fuck, Roz,” Shane moans when his thumb swipes over the head of his cock. Fuck. This is definitely the hottest thing that's ever happened to him.
“Ilya,” the other man says before breaking off into a soft moan.
“Huh?” Shane asks dumbly, too caught up to understand.
“Ilya. My name is Ilya. Roz… Rozanov is my last name. What they call me. You call me Ilya,” Ilya says.
“Ilya,” Shane tries out. He loves the way the syllables feel on his tongue. He's never met an Ilya before.
Ilya lets out a low growl before he's connecting their mouths in a deep kiss.
Shane shivers, arching into Ilya's touch. He's been with other men before. This isn't new. But he's never done something this bold and reckless. They're outside and can be caught at any moment.
Shane has never been the type to get turned on from dangerous situations. If anything, when guys in the past have tried to fuck him even just behind closed doors while he knows others are nearby and can maybe overhear, he's usually filled with so much anxiety and panic at the idea of getting caught that he can never enjoy himself.
And it strikes him that the possibility of getting caught isn't what's doing it for him here either. It's just Ilya. Everything about Ilya is exciting. He's beautiful and adventurous and seems like a piss poor planner and he tastes like cigarettes which should be disgusting but it isn't.
When they pull apart to breathe and pant into each other's mouths, Shane has the thought he's so glad he brushed his teeth before he joined the others at the stream.
“Freckles,” Ilya says, grazing Shane's cheekbone with his thumb as he continues to jerk him off with his other hand.
“Huh?” Shane finds himself asking again. He feels his face get hot, and not just from the sun that's now fully out and burning bright. He's always been embarrassed by his freckles. Why point them out now of all times?
“I didn't know you had freckles. Yesterday you had dirt on your face. I could not see them. Today you bathe, and here they are. Beautiful… they take my breath.”
How is this the same asshole he'd met yesterday? Shane feels himself swooning. Fucking swooning. Do people actually swoon in real life? Apparently they do, because he is. He feels butterflies take flight in his stomach, mixing with the arousal building in his chest.
Shane feels the need to squirm and shy away from Ilya's compliments, but he doesn't. Forces himself not to, to stay present. He's not sure what to do when faced with so much sincerity, and from a stranger. A stranger who treat him like he was stupid only yesterday. Someone who thinks vodka is more important to pack for a grueling hike than food, or a water purifier.
“Roz! Where you at?! We're trying to cook breakfast but we're all shit at building a fire. We need you!” The sound of one of the other men shouting from somewhere in the trees breaks the spell.
“Fuck!” Ilya mutters under his breath. His greenish blue eyes search Shane's, though he's not sure what he's looking for. “Hold all of your horses. I am almost done drying off. I will be there in a minute. Go wait for me,” Ilya shouts. It sounds too loud compared to the quiet intimacy of before.
Shane expects Ilya to stop, to pull away. He braces himself for the blue balls he'll experience. He readies himself to tuck his cock back in his underwear and walk stiffly back to the campsite like this never happened.
“Sorry about them. Fuck. Let me…” Ilya mumbles desperately. He doesn't stop. He just spits into his large hand and then takes both of their cocks, jerking them off together.
“Oh my God,” Shane moans in a whisper.
Shane realizes that Ilya doesn't want to stop. He wants them both to finish together. This thought feels like a drug in his mind. Ilya's trail friends need him but he's putting them on the back burner to get off with Shane, who he just met last night. Whose freckles apparently take his breath away.
“You gonna come for me, Ilya?” Shane asks through gritted teeth, his hips bucking into Ilya's hand faster and faster. It's intoxicating, seeing and hearing the effect he has on the other man. It makes him feel sexy and confident.
Their cocks slide together so perfectly. Shane is often self-conscious about how wet he gets when he's turned on, but it amplifies everything so good here that he's grateful for it now.
“You gonna fucking make me?” Ilya growls back, and then he's kissing him again, hard and filthy.
Shane doesn't want to break the kiss but he can't help it as he arches his spine, his head thrown back as he moans soft and desperate.
“Ilya,” he gasps as he's cumming on Ilya's cock and his hand and probably both of their stomachs. “Ilya. Ilya.” He's never found a name so pretty before, so satisfying to say.
“Oh fuck, Shane,” Ilya mumbles into Shane's neck as he comes, placing wet open mouthed kisses on his throat.
They're a mess.
Shane takes his towel he'd brought down to the stream, not surprised Ilya doesn't have one. He really is a piss poor planner. The towel is still a little wet from the water and it works to clean them both off.
“Fuck,” Shane says, still breathing too hard.
“Fuck,” Ilya agrees.
***
Ilya isn't surprised when Shane scampers away from the campsite soon after they cum together, muttering about how he is getting a late start and needs to get miles in. He declined their offer of breakfast, holding up his protein bar to show he has it taken care of as he heads out.
It's not done out of any sense of shame or awkwardness after what they've done, Ilya can tell. It's just simply the truth.
Shane seems like he's a man with a plan, and even frotting with a hot sexy Russian can't make him deviate from The Plan.
Ilya can't help but feel pleased with himself.
When he'd first laid eyes on Shane he'd known immediately that he wanted him. He seemed somewhat uptight but also an undercurrent of confidence, like he knows who he is. Like he's not lost.
Shane had glared when Ilya chirped him about his shoes. Not because Ilya was wrong, but because they both knew he was absolutely right. Shane had looked like a sassy little kitten when he tried to look mad about it though. So much so that Ilya had almost suggested a trail name of Kotenok for the other man, before quickly dashing the idea away. Trail names were used by everyone on the PCT. He didn't want anyone else calling Shane that.
What had immediately struck him about Shane is his bravery. Ilya and Cliff had dared each other to do this hike, both thinking the other didn't have the balls.
But Shane? Shane is doing this completely alone. Ilya can't imagine doing something so scary. He wonders what could be his motivation. Everyone out here has one. Some of their group had shared their reason for hiking the trail over the campfire last night, but Shane hadn't. He'd just quietly nodded and listened. Like he was gathering facts to plug into a spreadsheet inside his brain.
Yesterday Ilya felt Shane's eyes lingering over his body, his mouth. He knew the other man wanted him, but he didn't know if he could find a way to get him alone.
The stream had been perfect. Ilya had practically keened when he felt Shane staring at his ass. Shane had then looked so beautiful drying out in the sun, looking more and more like a kotenok basking in the warmth.
That's when Ilya noticed Shane’s freckles. They'd been hidden under layers of dirt and sweat the day before. Once he saw those freckles, he knew he would do anything to get him alone. It was over. Once Ilya was this set on something, he usually got it.
Shane had felt so perfect. Instead of satiating his desire it only made Ilya want more.
“What are you grinning about?” Cliff had asked him as their group finally packed up and set out.
“Just thinking about your mom,” Ilya shrugged. ‘Your mom’ jokes are one of his favorite things about the otherwise pretty stupid English language.
It's also a great way to avoid answering a question. Cliff just laughs in his deep rumbling way and flips him off.
Cliff knows that Ilya likes men. He doesn't have to hide around him. But he's never been one to kiss and tell, especially when he doesn't know how Shane would feel about that.
Shane had laid with him with the confidence of someone who has been with other men. He doesn't think Shane is necessarily in the closet or conflicted about his sexuality. He doesn't give off that vibe. But their orgasms had felt more intimate than Ilya had expected, and he isn't ready to share the memory with anyone else. He wants to savor it in his mind, just for himself. Not like a secret, but a prayer or an oath maybe.
Ilya keeps an eye out over the next few days, but he doesn't see the other man. Shane can't be that far ahead, not with how shitty his shoes are and how heavy and overpacked his backpack is stuffed. Ilya chuckles to himself thinking about it. Shane must have googled absolutely everything anyone who has ever hiked the PCT has ever brought, and then bought it all.
Ilya did the opposite. He doesn't have much, honestly can't afford much. He'd saved up all his money for this trip, which hasn't been much since previously he'd saved up all his money for college. Going to American college may have been stupid. Very expensive. He's now saddled with student loans, but if he's honest it's so much debt it doesn't feel real anyway.
He wonders if Shane has debt. Probably not. He thinks he said he is Canadian. Seems polite enough to be. He also seems like the type who worked a part time job in high school to save up for college, if his parents aren't wealthy enough to afford his tuition.
Shane does give off some privilege, but not out of touch or snobby. Just the privilege of someone who has had a mostly nice life with parents who probably love him dearly. He doesn't have the grit and bite that Ilya knows lingers under his own skin, deep in his bones. The simmering anger of someone who has always had to beg for love, with unsuccessful results.
“We should be getting to town in just under an hour,” Hazy declares.
Ilya knows that ‘town’ is probably an overstatement. Towns along the PCT are often just a bar/restaurant and a general store to re-up on items and receive the resupply box mailed to yourself in advance.
They get there quicker than expected, each man with a rush in their step at the prospect of getting to town, which is a luxury here.
Ilya buys more candy at the general store. He's discovered the sugar and carbs keep him going. Prior to hiking the PCT he hadn't eaten carbs in years probably, always a little vain and too focused on defining his muscles. But carbs are a necessity out here. He expects his muscles will dwindle during the trip, unable to keep up with as much protein as he needs to maintain them with how many calories he's burning each day.
He finds a bathroom with actual running water and sinks. He takes the opportunity to shave the scruff that's been growing on his face, feeling lighter as he washes his face in the sink.
He finds the other men over at the restaurant. It's a small saloon-type place, catering to weary hikers. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees Shane among them, drinking a beer.
“We found our old bud!” Cliff exclaims, slapping a hand on Shane's shoulder. Cliff hesitates, clearly forgetting Shane's name. He can't blame him. They run into a lot of different people on the trail, and as far as Cliff is aware, their run in with Shane had been pleasant but brief and uneventful.
“Shane,” Ilya supplies, showing mercy on his friend and helping him out.
Shane smiles a bit around his beer.
“Of course, Shane!” Cliff bellows. “We got him a beer, on you of course.” Ilya rolls his eyes but he's smiling.
One of Cliff and Ilya’s favorite pastimes is putting the other on the spot to pick up the tab. They do it back and forth, neither crossing a line into anything too expensive that would actually put the other in a lurch.
Ilya is all too pleased to buy Shane a beer, anyway.
He finds the only empty seat which is diagonally across from Shane. Shane's freckles are glowing against his cheeks that are flushed pink, presumably from the joy of real food and alcohol. He must've had the same idea as Ilya, because he looks freshly shaved and washed.
Ilya gets himself a beer and a burger, moaning in delight when it hits his lips. He sees the corner of Shane's mouth quirk up. Ilya feels himself grin around his burger.
He feels a tap against his shoe and he thinks maybe it's one of the men across from him. They're all fairly tall, so it wouldn't be unusual for someone to accidentally knock knees.
But one glance towards Shane and he knows it's him and that it wasn't an accident. Ilya signals for another beer for himself and Shane, the others all too engrossed in their own stories.
He wishes it was just the two of them.
Ilya is an outgoing guy. He loves people. He loves learning how people work and how they respond to him. He loves learning new things and asking people questions about themselves. He gets a high from being around others, soaking in all the positive energy.
Not today. Today he wills out everyone else, lasering in on Shane.
“Surprised it took us this long to catch up to you,” Ilya says, barely heard over the roar of laughter from the men around him.
Bood is telling a story of some hiker he'd met before Cliff and Ilya had joined their group. It has Cliff doubling over in laughter.
“Had to make up some miles,” Shane shrugs.
“How are your feet?” Ilya asks.
“Much better. Called a friend from back home and asked him to mail me a new pair. Got them today in my resupply box. Had to wait here an extra day for them to arrive. You guys are slow,” Shane smirks.
“It's these men. So slow. Must stop all the time to take selfies and piss and talk to everyone we meet. I do not mind. I like meeting new people. Some, more than others,” Ilya says with a nod towards Shane, taking another swing of beer as he maintains eye contact.
Shane hums in response.
Ilya briefly registers Cliff telling him that they're going outside to say hello to a hiker named Beets that they'd met the first day of their trip. He asks Ilya to come with them. Ilya shakes his head no.
“I want another beer, and my legs are too tired to move right now. You go,” Ilya says.
Cliff accepts the answer and the other men all file out, leaving Shane and Ilya alone at the table, finally.
Ilya is happily buzzed already. His vodka hadn't lasted long. He had only brought a small bottle, of course unable to fit anything bigger into his bag, so his tolerance is fucked.
His limbs feel a little fuzzy and loose, which feels great compared to the aching soreness he typically experiences on the trail. Shane looks gorgeous, flushing pinker the more he drinks.
“I never liked beer before this,” Shane muses, examining the can. Shane gets up to get them both a third can, sliding in closer to Ilya when he returns. “But fuck, if it's not the most refreshing thing I've ever tasted after days of living off water, protein bars, and instant mashed potatoes.”
Ilya smiles happily. “What do you normally drink when you go out?”
Shane frowns, though he doesn't look upset. Just deep in thought. “I guess I don't, really. Go out, that is. I'm usually too busy studying.”
“Mmm, Mr. Studious. I like,” Ilya says. He imagines Shane hunched over books in the library, wearing sluttly little glasses. He imagines bending Shane over a desk, fucking into him, a hand over his mouth to keep him nice and quiet in the library.
“I have these close friends, Rose and Hayden. They take me out sometimes. I usually just get whatever they’re drinking. I get kind of overwhelmed with all the choices sometimes,” Shane says. Ilya files that knowledge safely in his mind.
Shane gets overwhelmed with too many choices. Maybe he likes to have someone else make choices, tell him what to do…
He feels his cock twitch in his shorts. The strong feeling of overwhelming need hits him suddenly. He and Shane are sitting so close now. They're both happy with food and alcohol in their bodies, and Ilya feels more human than ever with his face shaved and clean.
Shane's hand grazes Ilya's thigh. Ilya inhales sharply.
“Can I suck you?” Shane asks, licking his lips.
Fuck.
“Where-?” Ilya starts to ask, kicking himself for not exploring the area more before he got here. He looks around the room as if he'll find some sort of sign hanging on the wall that promises a good location for fucking.
“I found a little spot while I was waiting around yesterday. It's where I set up my camp. It's a little ways off from the main area. More trees. More privacy.”
“I will follow you anywhere so long as you suck my dick when we get there,” Ilya answers honestly.
Normally he'd be embarrassed to be so open with a near-stranger. He's a forthcoming guy but he often likes to play coy, the chase being a thrilling part of foreplay.
But something about being on the trail like this, the easy and casual nature between them, it just feels pointless to play games.
They're both just two men who find each other hot and are on similar adventures with nothing to lose.
Ilya pays the tab and then he's following Shane out the back door, their fingers linking together. The touch feels electric. He didn't realize how much he needed this again until he has it in his hands.
They walk for several torturous minutes, giggling with desire and alcohol. Then Ilya recognizes Shane's tent set off near some trees in a quiet spot.
He follows Shane into the tent and zips it up behind them. It's impractical. This is a one person tent not meant for two men of six feet tall. They laugh softly as they awkwardly bumble around, narrowly dodging knees and elbows as they hurriedly undress.
But then Shane is naked underneath him, smiling and panting and then kissing him. Ilya returns the kiss like a man starved, and he realizes he is. He has been starved of this man for days and he wantswantswants so badly.
They grind their hips together, moaning quietly at the friction. Even though Shane's campsite is a bit further off from the main crowd, he's not sure how their voices carry. Ilya isn't closeted but he's not exactly trying to put on a show either, not when this is so new with Shane.
Shane is pushing at his chest and flips them over, as much as you can in a small tent. Ilya laughs as they flail around, the rustle of the fabric swishing as they maneuver themselves.
Shane finally settles himself between Ilya's legs, dipping his head low to lick at his hard cock.
Ilya had spent some time the last several days imagining how Shane sucks cock. There's a lot of time to think when hiking all day. Would he be shy and tentative, like the way he seems to be in social settings? No, absolutely not. Shane is not arrogant about it either, although he would be extremely justified because he's so fucking good at this.
He is just… Shane. Ilya doesn't know Shane well but in a way he feels like he knows him so deep in his bones. Shane is quiet but confident, never arrogant. He's someone who knows what he wants but maybe isn't always used to asking for it. But he'd asked for this. He'd asked to suck Ilya's cock, and Ilya wants to give him everything he asks for. He wants for Shane to know that he can have everything he wants in this world.
“Fuck, Shane. Fuck…” Ilya moans, his hand tangling in Shane's hair.
Ilya gives up on trying to keep his hips still. He sends Shane an apologetic look when the other man holds his hips down.
“S-sorry. Just so good,” Ilya gasps, arching his back when Shane takes him deeper.
Shane hums around his dick in a way that Ilya thinks is meant to convey something like 'No worries.'
The other man keeps a hand on Ilya's hips and lowers his other to cradle Ilya's balls gently.
“Please,” Ilya pants, surprised to hear himself begging. “I want to fuck you.” It sounds whinier than he means for it to be.
Shane pops off his cock, replacing his mouth with his hand, jerking him off. But he keeps his lips right at the head of Ilya's cock so that Ilya can feel them move across his dick when he speaks.
“Not here,” Shane says simply before putting his mouth back on his cock, sucking and hollowing his cheeks.
“Not here… okay. Somewhere else? Next time?” Ilya asks with a gasp, another apologetic look directed at Shane when he bucks his hips again. He can't help it. Thinking of fucking Shane while said man is blowing him is just too much for his brain to process.
“Next time,” Shane agrees after he removes his lips off him once more.
Next time. Fuck.
Ilya stops talking after this. He can't bear the idea of Shane taking his mouth off his cock to answer him, so it's best to not ask anymore questions.
Shane is a fucking magician with that mouth. He watches as Shane’s lips stretch over the thick cock until it becomes too much.
“Blyat! So close… gospodi… Shane. I’macum,” Ilya slurs. It's so good. Too good. He never wants it to end but he's a weak man so he lets himself get closer and closer to his release. He wants to stave off his orgasm, make this last. But he also wants to know what Shane's mouth looks like when he swallows his cum.
Ilya finds out a few seconds later. He covers his own mouth with his hand to quiet himself, cumming with a muffled “Bohze moy!”
Shane's eyes are dark and filled with lust. He looks so content providing Ilya with pleasure. He swallows every bit of cum Ilya gives. When Ilya is empty of anything more, Shane lets his dick fall out of his mouth. He wipes the spit off his chin with the back of his hand.
“God, you're hot,” Ilya says. His body feels even more drunk now, though he has only sobered up since they started. Sex drunk, he supposes.
Ilya wastes no time returning the favor.
When Shane cums he's even more beautiful. He sighs and moans and says Ilya's name in that same soft, reverent way he'd done back at the stream. Nobody has ever said Ilya's name as prettily as Shane. And fuck, the way he tastes is so good. Better than the burger and beer he thought was such a revelation an hour ago.
***
Shane feels light when he packs at dawn. His feet feel like they're in pillows now that he has different shoes, and his body feels like it's floating from the orgasm Ilya gave him last night. They hadn't spent the night together. Ilya had gone back to pitch his tent soon after
He's heard of trail angels, people who don't really hike the trails themselves but post up along junctions and towns, grilling food or giving hikers a roof over their head to sleep on weary nights.
He's never heard of a trail angel seemingly sent to give amazing orgasms, like Ilya.
It's an early start but he already wasted an extra day waiting for the shoes Hayden mailed him here.
It had been worth it, to see Ilya again.
He gets the last of his stuff nestled neatly and organized in his backpack. He is right about to slip it on when he hears a rustle nearby.
“Ilya,” Shane breathes, catching sight of the man and those wonderful curls he'd recognize anywhere, from any distance.
“Shane,” Ilya says with a nod.
Ilya moves fluidly like water, crowding into his space, walking him backwards until Shane's back lightly thuds against a tree with an “oomph.”
“I have to leave early,” Shane says, voice shaky.
“You do,” Ilya agrees, pressing in closer. “You lost a day waiting for new shoes.”
It doesn't surprise him that Ilya would make that connection. He seems observant, intuitive. The kind of watchful someone gets from having to tiptoe around others’ volatile emotions for so long. Shane is lucky enough to not have had that specific experience growing up, but he recognizes it in the other man clearly.
Ilya connects their lips, giving him a deep kiss. It's not desperate or needy. He kisses him like they have all the time in the world, which they don't.
“You said I could fuck you. When?” Ilya asks, his hands firmly anchored on Shane's waist. Shane kisses him back before answering, can't help it.
“I hadn't planned to stay at a hotel for a few more weeks. Whistling Inn. I'll have a bed… walls,” Shane says. He never thought he'd be so excited for walls.
The PCT makes you grateful for every one of life's luxuries. Shane is starting to enjoy that. It's humbling.
“What if we miss each other? What if you get there first and are gone by the time we get there?” Ilya asks, furrowing his brow. He places kisses on Shane's neck. It feels nice.
“Then I guess you guys better hike fast,” Shane shrugs, a whiny sound escaping his throat when Ilya latches on, sucking hard right over his pulse point.
“I guess we better,” Ilya says, agreeing again with Shane. “Gonna leave you this bruise. So you don't forget me before Whistling Inn.”
Ilya's lips are still on Shane's neck, but he can feel him smiling against his skin.
“Maybe it will also leave you hard. So you don't forget how good I make you feel,” Ilya says, cupping Shane through his shorts.
“I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon.”
Over the next few weeks Shane presses on, but he finds that he always keeps an ear out for Ilya and his loud, boisterous group. Whenever he stumbles upon other hikers he searches for those dark blonde curls.
He doesn't see them. He's only a little disappointed.
When Shane makes it to the Whistling Inn, he hopes that Ilya has been only a few miles behind him. Their group always seems so unprepared and undisciplined. What if they got distracted by something or folded into another trail family and Ilya no longer cared to meet him?
But then he remembers the lustful, hopeful look in Ilya's eyes when he'd said he wanted to fuck him
He doesn't know Ilya well. No, that doesn't feel right. Somehow he feels like they know each other as certain as the constellations in the sky. Ilya won't abandon their plan to have sex, unless he absolutely has to for some reason.
So Shane waits. He showers and shaves and showers again, because he can. And because it takes that many showers before he feels clean.
He gets dinner at the restaurant and drinks a few whiskey sours because he's never really had them before and because he can. He has the freedom to choose it for himself.
Shane is in bed that night, a little tipsy from his drinks, reading his book by the lamplight. A lamp! He missed lamps. He hasn't seen Ilya all day. He will be here one more night because tomorrow he has a rest day.
He hates rest days, truthfully. He knows zero days where you do no hiking at all is necessary for recovery which is why he built them into his schedule. But he finds himself so bored and restless when he has no goal of miles in a day to reach.
But then he hears it. A shout. He ignores it at first, thinking it's a drunk hiker shouting around a campfire or something. But then the shout happens again, more clearly.
“SHANE! SHAAAANE!”
He grins like a doofus. Ilya.
Shane laughs as he unlocks and opens his door.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Shane hisses, but then he's laughing when he sees Ilya spin around. It's dark, but Ilya has a small pocket flashlight that barely illuminates his face.
Ilya strides over, his steps long and confident. When he gets to Shane, Shane grabs him by his t-shirt and pulls him in, shutting and locking the door behind them.
“Shane,” Ilya says, like he needs to say his name again to make him real.
“Yes, it's me, Shane. Why were you yelling?”
“I didn't know which room you were in,” Ilya explains with a shrug, like the answer is obvious. Shane smiles wide.
He uses his hold on Ilya's shirt to pull him in for a deep kiss.
It's Ilya's turn to smile wide when they break apart.
“Fuck, I thought I'd missed you. Now that I know you are here I'm very aware that you are sexy and very clean and I am very covered in days of dirt. Can I use shower?” Ilya asks.
Shane nods. He helps Ilya take off his pack, smiling at the relief that spreads through Ilya's face at the loss of weight.
Ilya showers for a long time. Which, fair. Shane had showered multiple times just to get the grime off. When he exits the bathroom he's followed by a billow of steam. He's shaved and his face looks glowing and smooth.
“You still want?” Ilya asks, only wearing a towel around his waist.
“I still want,” Shane confirms.
They meet each other in the middle of the room in a heated kiss.
Ilya feels the same to Shane, but different. He's still muscled and strong but he's leaned out a bit, as Shane knows he has as well. It's impossible to keep that amount of muscle while hiking the PCT.
He intertwines his hand in Ilya's wet curls, tugging and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.
When they pull apart Ilya smiles and raises the hem of Shane's hoodie to take it off.
“Fuck, why are you wearing so many clothes,” Ilya whines when he sees that Shane has a t-shirt on underneath.
“It gets cold at night,” Shane shrugs. “Besides, I didn't know if you'd make it.”
Ilya gives him a look like he's crazy.
“Shane, of course I make it. All I've wanted since I saw you last is to be here, with you.”
Ilya gets rid of Shane's shirt, and shoves down his sweats so he's only in his boxer briefs.
The other man is sporting an erection in his towel. Shane moans as he whisks it away, leaving Ilya naked before him.
Ilya taps his thighs and Shane allows himself to be lifted up into his arms and walked to the bed, laughing and kissing all the way. Fuck, nobody has ever lifted him like this before.
He's also never laughed so much during sex as he has with Ilya the few times they've been together. He loves it, for the record. It makes everything feel safe and comfortable and easy.
Shane is on his back on the bed and Ilya is crawling on top of him. Ilya's hands and mouth are fucking everywhere and Shane grabs and kisses at everything he can reach too.
They roll their hips together over and over and it feels so fucking good. Ilya's tongue in his mouth is so insistent and desperate but also so sweet, soft. He probes Shane's mouth like he wants to explore every part of him and memorize him like a map.
For his part, Shane does the same. He runs his hands down Ilya's back, his hips, his thighs, his cock.
“Can I suck you off?” Ilya asks, breathless. Shane can only swallow hard and nod. “Okay, good, yes. Great,” Ilya says with a laugh, and for the first time it strikes Shane that Ilya might be nervous.
It's adorable. Shane is nervous too. He wants this to be good for Ilya, for them both.
When Ilya's tongue licks a stripe up Shane's cock he moans, loudly. Too loudly probably. He doesn't care.
Ilya seems to read his mind. “Do not worry. Cliff has room next to yours I think. He won't be in there for a while. Wanted to get drunk and talk to other hikers,” Ilya says, licking another stripe.
Fuck.
Ilya's tongue swirls around the head of his cock, licking, sucking. When Ilya finally takes Shane's cock fully into his mouth, Shane moans, fisting the sheets.
God, how is Ilya's tongue and mouth everywhere all at once? Shane is a shuddering mess of pleasure. Ilya hollows his cheeks and sucks harder.
Ilya sucks him off with confidence, no longer appearing as nervous as he'd seemed just a short while ago. Shane imagines his groans and whimpers are encouraging to the other man. He hopes so, anyway, because fuck he feels fantastic.
Shane bucks his hips and keens when Ilya presses a probing finger to his hole. Ilya slides it in slowly. Shane didn't even notice him spreading lube on his fingers, but he clearly did and even warmed it up before touching Shane. It's not cold and uncomfortable like he's used to.
It occurs to him briefly that he doesn't recall anyone ever doing him the courtesy of warming up the lube before entering him. It feels like such a small thing, but there's something so conscientious and Ilya about it all.
“Oh, shit! Oh, fuck!” Shane shouts when Ilya's finger hits his prostate. He can feel Ilya hum and smile around his dick. As much as one can smile with their mouth full, anyway. He then enters another finger, pressing persistently against his prostate.
“I fuck you now, yes?” Ilya asks after he finally takes his mouth off Shane's dick, checking in. It makes Shane’s heart swell.
“God, yes.”
Shane hands him a strip of condoms and lube. Ilya raises an eyebrow at him.
“I told you… I was hoping you'd meet me here,” Shane says with a smile. “Wanted to be prepared.”
Ilya grins widely, showing all his teeth. Ilya's chuckle turns into a pant as he rolls the condom on and lubes himself up.
He rubs his cock against Shane's hole, teasing, never entering.
“I swear to God, if you don't get inside me right the fuck now,” Shane says grumpily.
“Easy, kotenok. You can have whatever you want,” Ilya says, sliding in with one sure thrust.
“Whatever I want?” Shane asks in wonderment. God, he feels so fucking full. So complete.
“Anything,” Ilya says, brushing a strand of Shane's hair off his forehead. Shane knows his hair has gotten longer since he started his hike.
“Faster. Harder,” Shane urges, hoping Ilya means it.
Ilya does mean it.
“Yes! Ilya, fuck!” Shane moans as Ilya picks up his pace, thrusting in impossibly deep.
“So good on my cock. Taking me so well,” Ilya says, slightly muffled with his mouth against Shane's neck. Shane keens at the praise. “Your hickey is gone.”
“It is,” Shane gasps. “Better give me another.”
Ilya laughs and then bites and sucks down hard on Shane's throat.
Shane's thighs are shoved up farther, his knees up by his ears as Ilya bends him in half and fucks into him like it's their last day on Earth.
“Touch me,” Shane whines. “Please, fuck. Touch my dick.”
Ilya complies with Shane's wants, like he always does.
Shane feels his toes curl and every time Ilya thrusts he can hear himself letting out gaps and moans. Ilya's hand is big and firm on Shane's cock, stroking hard and fast just the way he's fucking him.
“Come on my cock. Yes, fuck!” Ilya groans.
Shane moans loudly, losing himself as he gets closer and closer. “Ilya,” Shane moans, like a prayer. “Gonna… God I'm gonna cum!”
“Yes, kotenok. Cum for me. Need it!”
Shane comes hard, his entire body trembling with shakes as Ilya fucks him through it all. He feels his short, blunt nails digging into Ilya's shoulders and back. He knows he's going to leave marks. He wants so badly to leave marks.
Ilya comes with a cry of Shane's name shortly after. He looks ethereal with his curls hanging around his face, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth open in a long moan.
Shane sighs contentedly as Ilya gets up to fetch a washcloth, wiping them both clean.
Shane makes grabby hands and Ilya laughs, falling back into bed and settling in Shane's arms.
***
They're both so tired they're asleep almost immediately. They do wake up in the middle of the night, rutting against each other. So Shane jerks their cocks off together until they cum. Ilya wanted to fuck him again, but wasn't sure how his ass feels right now from the first round.
Then they fall back asleep again.
It's morning when they wake up for real. Ilya groans at the sun shining through the curtains.
“God, your ass,” Ilya praises when Shane blinks away sleep and smiles at him.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Excellent morning,” Ilya corrects. Shane nods in agreement.
“Your group. Are you guys leaving today or tomorrow?” Shane asks.
Ilya shakes his head. Oh yeah, the group. “Ah well… about the group. Me and Cliff sort of moved on.”
“Why?” Shane asks, looking confused. “You all seemed so close.”
“Ah, no. Trail families come and go. Is nature of the trail. But we had to leave them behind. Too slow,” Ilya says with a casual wave of his hand.
Shane can't suppress his smile.
“You mean, too slow to keep up with me? To meet me here?” Shane asks. He knows the answer but asks it anyway.
Ilya nods. “Yes, it was driving me crazy. I kept seeing your notes in the guest logs. At least, I think is you. It seemed like you. You signed them with a little star at the end, yes?” Shane can only nod. He's not sure why he signed his name with a star. Maybe because it also starts with an S like Shane? He decided early on he wanted to sign the guest books but not use his real name. It just felt too personal.
“Guys did not like me trying to catch you. Said I was being kind of an asshole, making things not fun. I didn't tell them why. Just that we needed to go further, faster.
Even Cliff asked me what the fuck was wrong with me. I wasn't going to tell him… I don't usually talk about…” Ilya gestures a hand at them and the bed. “But he sat on my pack and wouldn't get up until I told.”
Once I told him, he called me stupid idiot and said I should have told him sooner. If there's sex on the line, it's emergency, he says.”
“So you left your whole hiking group?” Shane asks, looking surprised.
Ilya looks at him, confused.
“We hiked together for a while. Was fun while it lasted. We may run into them again, I hope. But that's how it goes. Is no hard feelings, they know this. Seeing you again seemed more important.”
Ilya means it. He does care about the other guys, how can he not after hiking together so long? But his desire for Shane had felt all consuming.
The smile on Shane's face makes it all worthwhile. So does the sex.
They get dressed and have breakfast with Cliff.
“Only Roz could get some while on a fucking hike,” Cliff says as he shakes his head, looking impressed. Ilya sends him an elbow to the ribs.
Ilya glances at Shane, hoping he doesn't think the worst, that Ilya is some whore who picks up men wherever he goes. Shane just giggles. Fucking giggles. It's incredible.
They fuck again while they're doing laundry at the hotel. Ilya locks the small laundry room door and lifts Shane onto one of the washing machines, fucking him while it's running a load of their clothes.
Shane comes so hard on his cock that Ilya has to grab one of their clean shirts from the dryer to clean them off. They laugh when Ilya tosses it right back into the machine to wash again.
It all feels so fucking easy and light. Ilya doesn't know exactly what this is but he isn't driving himself crazy wondering, and Shane doesn't seem to be either. They both seem to be just making the most.
Ilya just knows he doesn't want it to end, but it will eventually. It has to, right?
Except… does it?
They're laying in bed the last night at the inn, sheets tangled around their legs as they lounge in their boxer briefs in a post-sex haze.
“Why are you hiking the PCT?” Ilya asks Shane. “You never said.”
Shane smiles softly, mewling as Ilya scratches his scalp gently. Shane's hair has gotten longer and Ilya loves it. “I just…needed to get away from my parents. Is that awful?” Shane asks.
Ilya knows a thing or two about wanting to get away from a parent. “No, not awful.” He feels Shane’s body relax with a sigh.
“I love my parents so fucking much. But my mom, she's… intense. And I get it. Her family sacrificed so much for her to have this life. They suffered so much so she doesn't have to. And she wants that all to be worth it, I guess. She pays their sacrifice back by being perfect.” Shane sighs again.
“And she expects you to be perfect too?” Ilya asks. Shane nods. “She must feel very lucky then.”
Shane lifts his head to stare at Ilya with confusion.
“I mean,” Ilya tries again, laughing at his kotenok scowling. “She must feel lucky that you are you then. That you are, well, pretty perfect, yes? Without even having to try.”
“That's… you're ridiculous,” Shane says, blushing.
“Mmmm, maybe. But not about this.”
“I just wish she'd be a little less controlling. Stop trying to manage me all the time. Sometimes it feels like she's my boss, not my mom. Like I'm not an adult capable of deciding my own shit. She's steered everything in my life. And I have a nice life so I shouldn't complain, but sometimes it just feels like it's not my own life. That my life is passing me by without my consent and I'm missing all of it.” Shane takes a deep breath after that, like he's forgotten to pause to breathe while talking.
“Do you tell her this?” Ilya asks. Shane hums next to him, not answering.
“You never said why you're on the trail,” Shane says a few minutes later.
“What? Yes I did.” He definitely had, that first day they'd met in that campsite.
“No, the other guys talked about their reasons. You nodded along and shrugged, like that would fill in the blanks without you having to actually answer.”
Well, shit.
Ilya tenses for a second, but then remembers he doesn't have a reason to lie to Shane.
“Me and Cliff did dare each other to go, yes. That part he said is true,” Ilya begins. It takes him a while to find his words in English, but Shane is patient, doesn't press. “But I guess, after graduation I felt aimless. I have no plans yet. I can't really go back to Russia. I'm not… welcome back. I have nowhere to go. So I came here.”
Ilya shifts, tugs Shane closer like a lifeline.
“I wouldn't want to go back to Russia even if I was welcome. They do not approve of men like me there," Ilya continues.
It's the first time Ilya has ever said it aloud - admitted he never wants to go back to Russia.
“... Hot men who are kind of an asshole but really good at drinking vodka and starting campfires?” Shane asks. Ilya can't help but laugh.
Ilya loves the idea that Shane just accepts him so fully he legitimately can't comprehend why he wouldn't be welcome somewhere.
“Men who fuck other men sometimes. Men who disgrace their family,” Ilya answers with a shrug.
It genuinely doesn't really hurt. Not anymore. It's just a fact now.
“Wow,” Shane says, his face thoughtful and furrowed in concentration, like his mind is going a million miles an hour. “I just can't imagine anyone not wanting you.”
Ilya's heart flips in his chest. He feels something inside him loosen, an old wound healing maybe.
Shane rides him after that. He kisses him hard and filthy until he can't anymore because his moans are desperate to escape his mouth.
He feels Shane clench and tighten around his cock. He feels warm and safe and tight and fucking perfect. Shane holds onto the headboard and Ilya's hands are firm on Shane's hips. They're both frantic for it, always needing deeper and harder and more.
“Let me hear you, kotenok,” Ilya urges. He's willing to beg for it if he has to, but he knows Shane won't make him.
“Ilya, God! Please don't stop. Feels so good,” Shane moans, bouncing up and down on Ilya's cock. Fuck he feels so perfect.
“Won't stop. Not if you don't want me to,” Ilya promises, gasping when Shane squeezes his dick harder.
“I never want you to stop. Fuck! I feel so full. So fucking good,” Shane says, a long moan dragging out the last word.
Ilya is losing his fucking mind in who the fuck knows what town this is at the Whistling Inn, here with Shane.
He brings a hand to wrap around Shane's cock when he realizes he is suddenly so close and he needs Shane here with him.
Shane cums with a “Oh my God, Ilya!” It's so hypnotic knowing he's the cause of Shane coming undone and experiencing that pleasure. Shane squeezes and flutters around him and Ilya can only manage a few more thrusts before he's coming too, wave after wave of pleasure crashing down.
Neither of them expects the other to stick around the next day. Shane is eager to head out and log some miles. Ilya and Cliff are hanging around a little longer because Cliff has made some new friends and he's hungover. They may set out with the new group in the afternoon.
Shane and Ilya part with a smile and a lingering kiss. They hope to see each other soon, and Shane teases him that he's so slow he shouldn't count on it. They exchange numbers this time, just in case. There's not a lot of areas with service along the trail, but it's something.
Once they Ilya and Cliff start back up their hike, he knows they're not too far behind Shane. Shane signs every guest book, and Ilya studies each one, looking for messages.
“Did you see that view a few miles back? It reminded me of Canada a bit. Makes me miss home.”
“Met some smarmy asshole on the trail yesterday. Made me think of you. He wasn't as hot though. I don't think anyone is, to be fair.”
“Did I ever tell you I'm not hiking the whole trail? Just part of it. I only have the summer. Then I start a job in the fall. I'm nervous but excited.”
“I let a woman I met on the trail convince me to cut my hair. She says she grew up cutting her brother's hair. I don't even know what it looks like. My phone is dead and I don't have a mirror. But I looked at my reflection in the back of my spoon and it's not bad I guess. Easier without it falling in my eyes all the time.”
“I miss you.”
“Okay don't judge me. I know you won't, but I agreed to smoke peyote with this group I met. Nothing terrible happened. Don't worry. But no. Not doing that again.”
“I don't even know if you're reading these but I just have a feeling you are. I know they're kind of boring but it's nice feeling like I'm talking to you.”
“Have you ever played hockey? I grew up playing. This is the longest I've ever gone without playing since I learned how to skate. It feels weird. Let's go skating together sometime.”
“I miss you.”
***
Shane almost doesn't recognize himself in the mirror. He looks older. Not like he's suddenly got grey hair and wrinkles. But in his eyes he feels like he looks older. He's lost some weight and muscle, which he expected and planned for. He's got a tan.
And he's falling in love, he thinks. Which makes him feel and look lighter somehow. He's had a lot of time to think about it on his hike. The one thing about hiking the PCT is that you are with your thoughts for hours and hours with no distractions. Things seem clearer that way. Less distractions so you're forced to process everything.
He only has a month or so left on the trail and he hasn't seen Ilya since the Whistling Inn. It's okay if he doesn't since they have each other's number, but he really hopes they cross paths again.
Shane is sitting outside at a picnic table eating a burger when he hears a familiar voice.
“Hey! Buddy, long time no see!” It's Hazy, maybe? It's been a long time. He hasn't seen their group since that very first week at the campsite. Ilya had been with them back then, before he ditched them for Shane and the promise of hooking up at the inn. Ilya isn't with them now, he notes in disappointment.
“Hello,” Shane says politely. He's gotten better at small talk. You sort of have to on the trail, running into so many people, but right now he has a mouth full of burger.
They catch up a bit. Their group is still as loud and rowdy as before. They have lots of stories to share. Shane has a few now too.
“Have you seen our boys Cliff and Roz?” One of them asks. Shane already forgot his name. They all have trail names now and it's hard to keep track. “We miss those guys!”
Shane shakes his head. “Not for a while now, no.”
It's not until later when he's leaning back against a tree near his tent at the campsite that he sees a familiar flash of red - it's dulled with dirt and sweat but it's unmistakable. It's the red bandana Ilya uses as a sweatband to tame his crown of curls.
Shane grins and forgets to mark the page in his book because he's in such a rush to pummel the man into a hug. He smells like cigarettes, sweat, earth, and Ilya when Shane breathes him in.
“Krasivyy,” Ilya murmurs when he breathes Shane in right back.
They just sort of grin stupidly at each other for a few seconds before Shane can't help himself anymore and pulls him in for a kiss. It's slow and deep but chaste, not lustful. Not right now.
“Did you really miss me?” Ilya asks as soon as they part. He sounds breathless and hopeful. Ilya had recognized his logs in the guest book.
“So much.”
“Shane! Torch!” Someone calls, forcing Shane out of his daze. It's Ilya's friend Cliff.
“Torch?” Shane asks with a smirk. He assumes that's Ilya's new trail name. He raises an eyebrow at him.
“Because I'm good at starting campfires,” Ilya shrugs. “But you still call me Ilya, yes?”
Shane nods. He doesn't think he can call Ilya that with a straight face even if he wants to. Usually trail names feel more personal. People are proud of their trail names because they typically earn them through some fun story or a strength they possess. But being the only one to call Ilya by his first name feels more intimate, and he can't help but feel proud at the idea that only he gets to call him that.
Cliff comes bounding towards them, a big smile on his face. “We're all hanging out at the lake. You guys in?”
This is how they end up at the lake with a big group. It's nice. Shane cleans up a bit in the water but then spends most of the time laying back and watching the others.
Ilya looks beautiful all wet, abs glistening in the sunlight as drops of water fall down his muscles. But it's more than that. Ilya seems to come alive when interacting with others - a true extrovert. It's gratifying to see him confident and in his element like this.
Ilya uses big hand gestures when he tells a story. He glances back often to make sure Shane is watching him, especially when he does something he thinks is impressive like a handstand in the water. Ilya truly looks people in the eye when he listens to them speak, nodding enthusiastically like he's hanging on their every word.
After the lake, the big group has a cookout for dinner in town. It's actually nice. Normally Shane prefers being alone, but Ilya makes it feel easy. Normally Shane is always waiting for the small talk to end so he can relax and stop being on edge about worrying he's fucking it up. But Ilya gladly takes the reins socially.
He's captivating when he speaks, and he makes everyone else more interesting too, with his friendly questions bringing out the best in whoever he's talking with. He can take a clear introvert and zero in on their passion, get them talking excitedly, and make everyone else eager to listen too. It's mesmerizing.
Shane finds it easy to nod along, feeling included in the conversation without the normal pressure he feels to contribute. He's not exhausted under the pressure to be interesting.
Ilya and Shane sit side by side on the grass, sharing a tall can of beer between them. Shane inches his hand closer to Ilya's, linking their pinkies together. Ilya doesn't make a move, but Shane sees the grin slide onto Ilya's face while he's talking to someone whose name Shane has long forgotten.
It's after dark when everyone else in their group is drunk and full, happily singing and talking around a campfire. Ilya leans in and whispers in Shane's ear. “Kotenok, come with me.”
Shane looks around but nobody else seems to notice or care as they grab their packs and slip away. They clasp hands and Ilya leads him back down to the lake. The loud voices of their group fade away to nothing by the time they make it to the lake.
It's just the two of them and the sound of crickets chirping.
“You ever been skinny dipping?” Ilya asks mischievously, waggling his eyebrows.
“No!” Shane says with a laugh.
His laugh turns into something more desperate when Ilya starts unceremoniously stripping off his clothes, tossing them aside haphazardly as he runs towards the water without a care in the world.
“Come on, Shane! Water is still warm!” Ilya insists, splashing water towards him.
Fuck it, why not?
Shane takes off his clothes and folds them neatly into a pile before running into the water quickly, not wanting to be naked and exposed for longer than he has to.
The water covers them both up to their chests. Ilya splashes him and Shane laughs as he splashes him back.
“Fuck you!” Shane laughs as he tries to dunk Ilya under. This results in a wrestling match as they both try to grab and dunk the other.
But then Shane accidentally grabs Ilya's ass, which feels so firm and full in his hand. Ilya gasps and arches into it, grinding their hips together. Ilya then takes hold of the back of Shane’s neck to haul him in for a kiss.
Unlike before, the kiss is not chaste. Shane is urgently pressing his tongue into Ilya's mouth, one hand still firmly on Ilya's ass, the other tangling in his hair. It feels longer through his fingers now, but just as soft and curly as he remembers.
Ilya hums into his mouth, and Shane feels him smiling into the kiss. Shane smiles back.
“You're so hot,” Ilya remarks, grabbing Shane's dick in his hand, stroking slowly. Shane moans and attaches his lips to Ilya's neck, grabbing Ilya's cock with his hand to stroke him back.
“Shut up,” Shane murmurs against his neck. “You're like the hottest person I've ever seen in real life. Sometimes you don't even feel real.”
“Not real? Am I man of your dreams, Shane?” Ilya asks in a joking way, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically.
“Yes,” Shane says seriously.
“Fuck,” Ilya replies, diving in for another kiss.
Their hands are everywhere, touching whatever they can, moaning and gasping between kisses.
Until Ilya goes to adjust his footing, shifts some weight too hard on one side, and steps into a dip in the silt and loses his balance, taking Shane tumbling below the water with him.
“Blyat!” Ilya sputters when they resurface, spitting water out of his mouth.
Shane laughs when they're both standing again, and he pulls Ilya close. Ilya wraps his legs around Shane's waist. Shane grabs his ass to anchor him there. And to have an excuse to grab his ass. Sue him.
This time when Shane kisses him he tastes like lake water a bit but he doesn't care. They probably both accidentally swallowed half a gallon of it when they went under. They might be toxic mutants now. They make out in the lake like this for a while. He can feel Ilya's cock hard against his stomach and he's sure Ilya can feel his against his ass.
But Shane wants his fill. He kisses Ilya like he needs it to survive, because he is pretty sure he does.
“C'mon,” Shane mumbles between kisses when he can't take it anymore. Ilya keeps grinding down on Shane's cock and Shane is dizzy with need. “We're adults. We don't need to dry hump like this. Come fuck me.”
“English is not my first language but pretty sure it is not dry humping when we're in the water.”
“Fuck off. Water humping isn't a thing.”
“Then what are we doing right now?”
Shane rolls his eyes and regrettably untangles Ilya from around his waist so they can go back to land. Because as hot as the idea sounds for Ilya to fuck him in the water, the condoms are in their packs and water makes a terrible lubricant.
“But I wanna fuck you,” Ilya whines as he allows himself to be pulled out of the water by Shane.
Shane laughs and grabs his clothes and backpack while Ilya runs around in the dark trying to find his clothing he'd recklessly discarded along the shore.
“Fuck, Shane. I can't find my underwear!” Ilya says in the same whiney voice.
Thankfully the summer evening air is still warm and pleasant on their wet, naked bodies despite it being late.
“Do you need them to fuck me?” Shane asks impatiently.
“Here?” Ilya asks, his petulant whine replaced by something more breathless.
“Well not right out in the open, but if you hurry the fuck up we can go to the trees over there before I change my mind. I have a towel in my pack.”
Shane smiles as Ilya rushes him. They're definitely not graceful with their clothes and shoes in one hand and their packs dragging behind them in the other, occasionally pushing and shoving each other playfully towards the treeline so they can at least be partly obscured.
He would wait for them to get to his tent but that feels so incredibly far away right now. At least a 15 minute walk, which may as well be 15 miles.
With the help of Shane's flashlight they find a more inconspicuous spot and Shane rolls out his towel. He barely gets it spread out smoothly on the ground before Ilya is shoving him down.
“Stop tempting me by bending over like that,” Ilya says gruffly, like Shane is doing it on purpose to seduce him
Ilya nudges Shane down so he's laying with his back on the towel. He covers Shane's body with his own before kissing him hard. His lips feel soft and perfect and still taste slightly metallic from the lake. Shane knows his own lips are a little chapped from the sun. He'd ran out of SPF chapstick a few days ago.
“God, you taste good. Feel good. Everything good,” Ilya says as he moves down to Shane's neck.
Fuck, Shane feels even more sensitive than usual. Something about his skin exposed to the elements and still slick with water, goosebumps breaking out across his body as Ilya licks and nips at him.
“Can I eat you out?” Ilya asks as he moves his mouth lower and lower down Shane's body.
Shane feels himself blush. Fuck. It's not that he doesn't want it. He wants it so badly. There's no way that Ilya isn't fucking fantastic at it.
But he's been hiking for almost three months straight. He took a shower earlier in the day but it's not like the trail allows him to be as thorough as he would in his own home. Earlier today he used a cramped shower stall where he had to pay a quarter a minute for hot water.
“You do not have to let me. But fuck, kotenok. I just want a taste. If you do not like or do not feel comfortable just tell me and I stop, yes?” Ilya asks, placing kisses on Shane's thighs.
Ilya looks up at him through his eyelashes and Shane's heart flutters and flips. He can't see him all that well in the dark, but from what he can see illuminated by the moon and the stars, he's fucking gorgeous.
Shane nods at him.
Ilya hums and pushes Shane's thighs up so his knees are by his ears.
The way Ilya eats him out is the same way he seems to do everything. He's confident, caring, and deliberate.
He licks long, self-assured swipes of his tongue over Shane's hole. His mouth feels like it's everywhere, just as it had when he'd fucked him back at the inn. Ilya is making the most obscene slurping noises as he sucks and licks, alternating pressure from hard to soft, long and short flicks of his tongue.
Shane has the presence of mind to feel self conscious about his taste and cleanliness for all of 1.5 seconds, but with the way Ilya is humming and moaning against him, he knows that the other man is loving it. He trusts that Ilya wouldn't fake that.
So Shane lets himself relax and enjoy what Ilya is doing to him. Because fuck, it's even better than he imagined it would be. And he had imagined it would be really fucking good.
When Ilya fucks his tongue into his hole and adds a finger, Shane nearly loses his goddamn mind.
When he notices that Ilya's other hand is jerking himself off while he pleasures Shane, he absolutely does lose his goddamn mind.
The idea that Ilya is getting off on pleasing him so much that he has to jerk himself off to it, nearly breaks Shane's brain.
“Ilya, you need to fuck me. Now,” Shane urges, feeling floaty and fucked out before they've even really started.
Ilya raises his head a bit and nods. Fuck, he looks fucked out too. His eyes are glossy, unfocused, and half-lidded. He has spit covering his chin. He looks like an angel.
He hears Ilya fumbling with the lube and condom and then he moans when the head of Ilya's cock is pressing at his entrance.
“God!” Shane shudders as Ilya slides all the way in. Shane's legs are tossed over Ilya's shoulders.
“Shane,” Ilya whimpers - actually fucking whimpers. Fuck, Shane isn't going to last long at all. “You're so tight, gospodi.”
Shane gasps and arches when Ilya begins thrusting. He wants to keep this feeling of fullness forever. It's almost too much.
When Ilya hits his prostate Shane moans. Ilya giggles and puts his hand over Shane's mouth to quiet him up. They're a little ways away from others, but they're not exactly far or completely hidden here.
But Shane can't stop himself. Ilya presses his hand down harder to stifle all the sounds.
“I wish I could hear every fucking sound you make,” Ilya gasps. “One day when we don't have to worry about making disturbance, I will hear it all. Every fucking word. Every fucking moan. All of it.”
Shane moans underneath Ilya's palm. One day when they don't have to worry about disturbing anyone? That definitely won't be while they're on the trail. So, is he talking about them being together after? How will that even work, with Shane in Canada and Ilya in Boston?
“No, no. Now you are thinking too loud,” Ilya says, catching the way Shane is briefly distracted by his thoughts.
But it's only brief as Ilya hits his prostate over and over, which makes every other thought fly right out of his brain.
He moves his legs from Ilya's shoulders down to his waist, locking them behind the other man so he can push him in closer and closer.
The hand Ilya has over his mouth smells like earth, lake water, and cigarettes. It's all encompassing.
The change of angle is fucking mind melting. Shane's muffles are louder and louder behind Ilya's hand. He's never had this much of an issue staying quiet. But it's just too much, too good, relentlessly over and over until he feels like he's gone wild with pleasure.
Ilya's hand that's not over Shane's mouth wraps around his cock, jerking him off rapidly.
“Shane,” Ilya whimpers again. “Come for me, kotenok. I need to see you come undone.”
Shane wails under Ilya's hand as he cums, using his feet to dig into Ilya’s lower back to force him in impossibly deeper. It's always too much but never enough. He doesn't think he can handle anymore pleasure or he'd literally go insane, but he's fucking selfish and he always wants more. It's never enough Ilya.
“God, so fucking tight. Fuck!” Ilya groans as he cums, eyes rolling into the back of his head, thrusting to ride it out.
By the time they make it back to Shane's tent, it's completely quiet in the campsite. Everyone else seems to be asleep. Ilya secures his pack on to Shane's tent and crawls inside to join him.
It's really not meant for two, but they make do.
***
Ilya is able to fuck Shane once more before they part ways again. He trades another camper a few cans of beer for a big bag of quarters. Ilya waves the bag of coins at Shane suggestively. He fucks him in the shower stall, enough quarters to keep them warm under the water for a long time.
He wouldn't ask to join Shane's hike even if he wanted to (which he really fucking does), but that doesn't make it any easier every time they part ways.
He's learned enough about Shane to know that whatever he's working through with his life and family right now, it's vital he proves he can be self-sufficient and take care of himself. This is clearly something he needs to do alone, and Ilya wouldn't dream of taking it away.
They're also on different paths and trajectories. Shane is only hiking about half of the PCT. Ilya and Cliff started their journey earlier and are ending it later, as they're hiking the entire thing. Cliff and Ilya also vowed to do this together, and he's not about to go back on his word. He estimates he and Cliff will probably finish their journey sometime in October.
However, Cliff probably wishes Ilya would fuck off, because Ilya can't shut the fuck up about Shane
“Yes, Torch, I know. His eyes are big and brown like Bambi. He looks like an angry kitten when he's annoyed. He's a polite Canadian boy. He has an ass that won't quit. He is a perfect planner and probably has spreadsheets for his spreadsheets,” Cliff says, repeating just some of what he's heard Ilya wax on about the last few days.
“Don't forget the freckles,” Ilya chides.
“Oh yes, how could I forget the freckles that are more beautiful than the stars in the sky?” Cliff gasps dramatically, hand splayed over his heart like he's been wounded.
“They are beautiful, aren't they?” Ilya sighs wistfully.
“So, what's the plan? He'll be done with his hike in a few weeks. You may run into him again once or twice before then, but when we're done we'll be in Canada, right where Loverboy lives. Have you planned your grand romantic gesture?” Cliff asks.
Like Ilya hasn't thought about this every single fucking day for weeks.
“He lives on opposite side of Canada in Montreal,” Ilya scowls. He admittedly doesn't know the geography of North America very well, but he'd poured over a map he found in a general store, heart sinking when he realized. “I saved up all my money for this trip. I can't get all the way to Montreal. I barely have enough to get back to Boston.”
“Dude, that's even better! He's only like a five or six hour drive from home?! You are obviously going to borrow my car and drive up to visit him after we get back. No question,” Cliff insists.
“Gas costs money. I'm not going to show up to his doorstep broke as fuck with no way to even buy him dinner.”
Ilya isn't opposed to a plan to see Shane after the PCT. He knows Cliff is right. He knows that he will visit Shane somehow after their hike, if Shane will have him, which he thinks he will. It just won't be fast enough. He'll have to save and still pay all his rent and bills and other shit.
So they brainstorm as they walk. What else is there to do when you're hiking for hours and hours each day? Plus, he feels like Cliff probably prefers helping Ilya develop a plan rather than listening to him ramble on about how cute it is that Shane can speak French.
Fucking french. It's so romantic that Ilya wants to die.
He runs into Shane one more time before Shane's hike comes to an end. It's a small town in Washington State just over the Oregon border.
When he sees Shane, the man is fucking glowing. He has the glimmer of knowing that he's almost to the end of his journey and he looks proud of himself, as he fucking should. Ilya is so proud of him.
Shane is sitting outside of a restaurant, listening to an older man talk. Shane seems genuinely interested in what the man has to say, not like he's stealing himself away as he inwardly pleads for the conversation to end, as Ilya has noted he so often does with others.
Ilya almost feels bad for interrupting. Almost.
“Shane!” Ilya shouts as he bounds towards him.
“Ilya?!” Shane exclaims, smiling wide as he excuses himself from his conversation.
Cliff quickly says hello to Shane before he graciously picks up the conversation with the older man where Shane had left off, gesturing for the man to follow him inside so he can buy him a beer.
Cliff is a great wingman.
Ilya all but throws off his pack as he rushes Shane into a big hug.
“Moy kotenok, I was starting to worry I wouldn't see you again before you finished,” Ilya admits, hugging him tightly, breathing him in. He smells like he's showered and washed his clothes. Ilya knows he must smell like absolute death in comparison.
Shane doesn't seem to mind much.
Ilya really had begun to worry. He'd seen a few messages Shane left him in the hiker logbooks so he knew Shane was still ahead of them. He traced his finger over each message he recognized as Shane's. He carefully copied each inscription into his own journal and he rereads them so much that he's memorized them all.
“Can you believe I'm almost done? I honestly can't believe that I did it. It's going to be hard to say goodbye to all this, but I have learned so much.”
“I had a dream about you last night. I will spare you the details to keep this family friendly. But I miss you.”
“Did you know that the official bird of Washington state is the goldfinch, which is also the official bird of Montreal? Another hiker told me. She knows all there is to know about birds and she knows the official bird of each US state. The goldfinch is really bright yellow, active, and very social. They sing so a pack of them is called a charm. That reminds me of you a lot. I asked her about the state bird of Massachusetts. It's the black capped chickadee. They survive really well in winter. You probably do too, being Russian. But I think you're more like the goldfinch.”
Shane had already rented a motel room for the night so he lets Ilya use his shower. Ilya watches as all the black dirty water swirls down the drain. He scrubs himself raw until it finally runs clear. He feels like a new person when he exits the bathroom in his towel.
Shane is sprawled across the bed in his boxer briefs talking to someone on the phone. He grins when he sees Ilya, and says “Okay, I gotta go. Love you, mom,” before he hangs up the phone.
“Hey,” Ilya says, flopping onto the bed next to him. Shane is warm and snuggly so Ilya pulls him onto his chest.
“Hey,” Shane says, smiling wide.
“How is your mother?”
“Good, happy I'll be home soon.”
“I bet she misses you.”
Ilya knows how it feels to miss Shane Hollander. It's comforting to know he and Shane’s mom already have something in common.
“I miss her too. But fuck, I missed you,” Shane says, placing a kiss on Ilya's pec.
Ilya feels his heart soar.
“How much?” Ilya asks with a grin.
Shane smiles wider and adjusts so he's straddling him, flinging Ilya's towel away so he's naked underneath him.
“So fucking much,” Shane sighs happily, pressing kisses everywhere on his chest.
“What is this dirty dream you had?” Ilya asks mischievously.
He's been wondering about it since he read Shane’s message in the guestbooks.
“Mmmm, it was a good dream,” Shane murmurs into his neck. Ilya feels himself get harder under Shane's kisses and touches. “You fucked me so hard in my tent that it broke and crashed down on us. But you didn't stop. You just fucked me harder until I was screaming and begging for you to let me cum. I woke up so fucking hard. There were a few people at the same campsite so I had to act like I was going to take a piss so I could jerk off. Kind of embarrassing.”
“Jesus,” Ilya groans. His cock is definitely at full attention now. The idea of making Shane scream and beg is hot. Being with Shane is always amazing but fuck he's tired of getting off in tents, outside, or in motels with paper thin walls where each setting requires them to be quiet or discreet.
The last thing Shane needs is getting some trail name based off everyone hearing them fucking. He doesn't think Shane would appreciate that. Although based off his dream maybe he would…
“Why are you wearing so many clothes,” Ilya whines, tugging at Shane's boxer briefs.
“You mean the literal one thing I'm wearing?” Shane asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, is way too much. So rude. Get them off. I hate them. They are in the way of your wonderful dick.”
Shane laughs as he pulls them off. Ilya takes them from his hand and throws them to a corner of the room resentfully, as far away as he can get them.
As soon as Shane is naked, Ilya grabs two handfuls of his ass, squeezing and pressing him in closer. God, his ass is amazing. Shane groans and kisses him hard and with urgency.
Ilya preps him with one finger, then two, then three.
It's fascinating watching Shane come undone from his fingers. He's writhing and moaning on top of him, thrusting back onto Ilya's fingers to get them in deeper, then thrusting forward to rub their cocks together.
Shane has desperate tears in his eyes by the time Ilya finally makes himself stop. He never wants to stop, but if he wants to have the chance to be inside Shane and not cum just from this, he has to. Fucking unfair.
He grabs for the bottle of lube and condom he'd set on the end table earlier, not about to be hindered again by having to dig around for them while in a sex haze like last time they were in a motel room together.
“Do you- never mind,” Shane starts and stops, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
Ilya frowns. He doesn't want Shane to hide anything, not when they're here like this.
“Tell me,” Ilya prods, trying to be patient and gentle while his cock is so hard it's almost painful.
“I, um. I had a medical check up before I came out on the trail. Got tested. I'm clean. Did you? I mean… do you have to use a condom?” Shane asks, sounding nervous.
Fuck. It's Ilya's turn to bite his lip this time, suppressing a moan. He's never fucked anyone without a condom before. The idea of being inside Shane with nothing between them is so hot and tempting, he has to squeeze the base of his cock to calm down.
“Yes, me too. Got tested, I mean. And I haven't… haven't been with anyone else but you since then,” Ilya says, swallowing hard.
It's not like there are bars and clubs along the trail where he can meet and hook up. But he wouldn't want to even if there was.
“Okay,” Shane says.
“Okay,” Ilya agrees.
Ilya's hands shake a bit as he tosses the condom packet back on the end table.
He grabs the bottle of lube and squeezes some out onto his hand, warming it up before lubing his cock.
Shane is on his hands and knees. Normally Ilya would like to see more of his face, insisting he turn around to be on his back, but if he wants to last longer than three seconds, it is definitely for the best that he can only see about half his face. Shane turns his cheek to rest it on the pillow, staring up at Ilya expectantly.
“You're sure, cause if you change your mind-” Ilya starts, but Shane gets that angry kitten look on his face as he furrows his brow.
“I'm sure.”
He takes hold of Shane's hips and lines himself up. He's never this fucking nervous during sex, but its also been a while since he's had a big deal new ‘first’ with sex.
When Ilya slides in, his eyes immediately clamp shut and his mouth hangs open in a silent moan. “Bohze moy…. Oh holy motherfucking shit, Shane!” Ilya swears.
It always feels amazing being inside of Shane, but this is a whole new level of pleasure he's never experienced before. It feels like everything is heightened like he's on fucking fire in the best way. Shane is warm and tight and everything is amplified and Ilya feels almost overwhelmed with it all.
Ilya is pretty sure he fucking whimpers as he bottoms out. He stays still for a few moments, having to collect himself so he doesn't cum immediately.
“Ilya,” Shane sighs, and Ilya looks down at him. He's fucking gorgeous. His eyes are glazed over and he's already drooling into the pillow.
Ilya needs to move now, can't wait another second.
Shane has the luxury of stifling his moans with the pillow as Ilya thrusts in and out. This time it's probably Ilya who needs someone to cover his mouth because he can't shut the fuck up.
He can't help it. It feels like he's fucking up into heaven.
Ilya tries to muffle his own groans into Shane's back, kissing his spine, shoulders, anywhere he can reach as he fucks him.
“Shane, oh my God,” Ilya moans, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Feels so fucking good. How can anything feel this fucking good?”
He uses his hold on Shane's hips to shove him back harder onto his cock with each thrust.
Each thrust causes him to shove Shane harder into the mattress until the headboard starts to knock into the wall each time Ilya pounds into him.
God, they'll probably change his trail name from Torch to Slut after this, but Ilya doesn't even care.
“Look at you,” Ilya moans, running a hand through Shane's sweaty hair. “Fucking drunk on my cock.”
Shane only nods and whimpers into the pillow.
Ilya alternates between mouthing hot kisses and biting into Shane's shoulder to try and quiet himself down. The room is filled with the sound of their stifled moans and panting, the headboard knocking into the wall, the sound of skin slapping against skin.
He feels Shane tense up, his whole body taut as he settles his cheek back on the pillow.
“Gonna fucking cum!” Shane cries out, which is the only warning he gets before Shane is coming untouched across his stomach.
Ilya fucks him hard and relentlessly through it, but he doesn't last much longer because Shane is clenching and spasming around his cock and without the condom it's all just so fucking much.
“Yes, fuck! Shane, fuck!” Ilya shouts as he cums hard into Shane, riding it out. He feels like it lasts forever.
It takes all his willpower not to just completely collapse on top of Shane, but he has enough presence of mind to know that getting the sheets all sticky isn't a great move.
He whimpers again as he pulls out of Shane, watching with turned on fascination as his cum seeps out of Shane's ass and down his thigh.
Ilya groans, swiping some of it with his thumb, which he then puts into Shane's mouth. Shane sucks the fluid off greedily.
His cock tries to twitch back to life but it's too soon right now. Maybe later. Probably later. Definitely later.
They definitely do fuck again later but they're both tired so it's more easy and languid, which Ilya didn't know can feel just as amazing as hard and fast, but it fucking does. What a revelation.
Pretty sure there's no such thing as mediocre sex when it comes to Shane though.
They spend a lot of the evening talking in bed afterwards, tangled up in the sheets and each other.
Shane tells him about his life in Montreal and the new job he's excited to start in the fall, at some accounting firm doing a job Ilya doesn't quite understand but it sounds like something smart and very Shane. He talks about his childhood home in Ottawa where his parents still live, and how embarrassing it is that his old bedroom is left untouched like a shrine to that childhood. Ilya thinks that sounds nice, of parents who love him so much they want to keep his room up for whenever he comes back to visit.
Shane also tells him about the more abstract things. How he wants to feel more in control of his life but he's not sure what he actually wants to do with it. He talks about having a hard time making a lot of friendships, but the few he does have, such as with Hayden and Rose, are very important and meaningful. He talks about his fear that he's worked so hard to succeed at everything in his life that he won't know how to cope if he fails. He's worried about peaking early in the academic setting but not being successful in the real world.
For his part, Ilya tries his best to be as brave and open as Shane. He doesn't get too far into the subject of his family except that they're not close, only with his mother who has been dead for years. He talks more about never wanting to go back to Russia. He talks about feeling aimless and wasting his potential. He confirms that he did also grow up playing hockey and being good at it, but ultimately being forced to quit the professional track once his sexuality came to light.
He tells his favorite memories of his friendships with Cliff and Sveta, who are his chosen family that he loves very much. He talks about his big sweet tooth and missing Russian bakeries. He tries to generally avoid carbs, but he's only human. He smiles as he recalls how his mom used to make him medovik for his birthday and other special occasions. He's delighted when Shane reveals he isn't familiar with any Russian treats so he gets to describe medovik, sharlotka, and syrniki in mouth watering detail.
They talk about Ilya visiting Shane once Shane is settled into his new, real grown up life and once Ilya saves enough money, which he's a little embarrassed to admit. Shane tells him he's being stupid and it makes complete sense he saved up all the money he had to do a six month fucking hike up North America, and of course he's in student loan debt from American college.
They talk until they fall asleep.
Ilya fucks him in the shower the next morning. He pounds into him until they both cum moaning each other's name. They then quickly start shivering because the water has gone cold and neither had noticed it in the moment.
They linger a bit as Shane gets ready to hike onward. He'll be done with his leg of the journey in a week or two.
Since check out is at 11am and Shane is leaving now at 6:30am, Ilya plans to take advantage and sleep in the nice motel bed for a few hours. Though it probably won't feel as cozy without Shane there.
“Your hair is getting a bit long again,” Ilya observes as he rakes his fingers through his hair that's still wet from their shower. “Here, take this.” He unties his red bandana from his head and ties it around Shane's instead to get the hair out of his eyes.
“I'm not mailing this back,” Shane says as he reaches in to give him another kiss. “If you want it you'll have to come to Montreal to get it back.”
Ilya smiles so big it feels like his face is going to split down the middle. “Deal.”
It's so confusing because Ilya feels so fucking sad watching Shane walk out the door. He already misses him, but he's also bursting with pride and happiness that Shane is about to accomplish this huge thing for himself, and that Ilya is just lucky enough to be a small witness to it.
“Wait! Wait!” Ilya calls out, opening the door wearing nothing but his sweatpants. “Ah, fuck!” He shrieks (though he'll never admit to fucking shrieking) as the cold morning dew on the grass chill his bare feet.
Shane turns around and gives him a bewildered look, which, fair.
“I love you. I mean, I know I have your phone number and I'll see you again in a few months hopefully, but I don't actually want to wait that long to say it. So… yeah. I love you,” Ilya says, squirming in the wet grass.
His heart sinks a little when Shane stares at him with an unreadable expression.
“Fuck, I love you too. So fucking much,” Shane says, his unreadable expression turning into a big goofy grin. “I was worried it was kind of too soon to say or something, but God, I fucking love you too.”
“Not too soon. Perfect,” Ilya says, swallowing down tears as Shane bounds back over. Shane throws his pack to the ground and kisses him, enveloping him in a tight hug.
When they part they're both panting. Shane laughs when Ilya reaches down to grab his pack and walks them backwards into the motel room.
This time Shane rides him and Ilya does his best to never look away, no matter how intense it feels. It is indescribable how beautiful Shane looks, especially wearing Ilya's red bandana just the way Ilya does, like a sweatband.
Ilya looks up at Shane with pleading eyes, but he's not sure what he's asking for. He just wants every little bit of Shane. He is selfish and he always wants more. He wants Shane like this all the time. He wants to burrow inside of Shane and live there. He wants to learn every single thing about him, from what makes him tick to what his favorite salad dressing is. He wants every mundane and exciting detail.
Ilya wants to tell all of this to Shane but he's overwhelmed with pleasure and feelings and he doesn't know how to say anything right in English, so it just comes out as a whimpered “Please.”
Shane seems to understand though and he puts his hands on Ilya's shoulders, grounding him as he kisses him deeply.
For the first time probably since he lost his virginity, Ilya cums first. He cries out as he cums inside of Shane, jackhammering his hips into Shane as he rides it out.
“Gospodi!” Ilya gasps out as Shane follows close behind, constricting Ilya's dick further while he clenches down and cums. Shane says nothing because he masks his moan by biting down hard on Ilya's shoulder. It will definitely leave a mark, and Ilya is thrilled.
Shane slumps against him. Ilya rubs and massages Shane's thighs since he's sure they're burning from riding him so hard.
“I've never been in love before,” Ilya confesses, a bit self conscious suddenly. “I'm not- I guess I don't know the rules.”
“Rules?” Shane asks, still catching his breath. “Are there rules? Well shit, I don't know them either then.”
***
Shane has been back from the PCT for three months.
It has been an odd adjustment. At first he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Everything felt so exciting when he came back. Every little thing that he took for granted prior to hiking the trail feels so luxurious now. Clean, running water whenever he wants, being able to buy something without worrying if it'll fit with the rest of his belongings in his backpack, calling his mom without having to plan around when he'll be in cell service next.
Except he doesn't have Ilya, at least not physically.
He mailed a few supply drops to Ilya for his last month on the trail. A pocket guide to the goldfinch, Russian candies he found at a market an hour away, and a Montreal Metros hat to keep the hair out of his eyes since Shane still has his red bandana. Which he knew would piss Ilya off since he's a Boston Raiders fan.
When Ilya finishes his hike and gets back to Boston they start calling and texting daily. They discover the joy of Facetime sex, which isn't as good as the real thing, but he never tires of seeing Ilya's face when he cums.
The insecure part of his brain worries that maybe the novelty of him will wear off for Ilya once they're no longer encountering each other on the PCT. It is easy to feel like you're in a completely different universe out there, where time sort of stops and the outside world feels like it doesn't exist. But Ilya always has the same dopey grin plastered on his face when he answers Shane's FaceTime calls, and he texts Shane that he loves him multiple times a day.
And also, Ilya is on his way to Montreal right now. So yeah, probably not just a PCT novelty.
Shane glances at his watch for probably the five hundredth time today. He's scrubbed his house from top to bottom, he's scrubbed himself from top to bottom, and he feels like he's buzzing with nervous energy.
When he hears a knock on the door he curses. Fuck. Well, not fuck. But he just took the medovik out of the oven and hasn't put on the frosting yet, so fuck.
Shane opens the door to Ilya’s wide smile, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
He looks fucking amazing, Jesus Christ.
“Did polite Canadian forget his manners while on the PCT? Are you going to invite me in or let me stand out here all day?”
“Shit, sorry,” Shane says apologetically. He was staring too long. He steps aside to let Ilya in. Ilya slips off his shoes and Shane takes his duffle bag, setting it on a bench in the hallway.
He turns his back to Ilya to lead him to the living room. He's about to ask him if he wants water or is hungry, when he feels big, strong arms wrap around him from behind.
Oh. Ilya must be bulking up since he's been home. His arms and chest feels fucking huge.
Ilya seems to breathe him in, sniffing long and hard before sighing and humming in Shane's ear. “You smell fucking fantastic,” Ilya says, sounding content. Shane’s eyes slip shut as he lets himself soak it all up. “Your house smells fucking fantastic. What are you making, Chef Hollander?”
“I'm sorry!” Shane blurts out. Ilya laughs.
“For what, kotenok?”
“I wanted to surprise you with medovik. You said your mom used to make it on special occasions, and this feels like a special occasion. But I didn't realize the layers would all take so long and I fucked it up. I wanted it to be done by the time you got here, but it's not even ready. I haven't had time to frost it,” Shane rambles.
“Woah, woah. Slow down. Your brain and mouth are talking too fast… Wait, you made me medovik?” Ilya asks, seeming to finally process Shane's words a beat or two later.
“Tried, but it's not ready yet.”
Shane wants this to be perfect, and he's already messing it up.
“Shane, relax. You can keep in fridge and we frost tomorrow so it can cool, yes? Show me.”
Shane nervously leads Ilya to the kitchen. Baking is all science and exact measurements so Shane is typically good at it, but he doesn't really have a reference point for Russian desserts. He gestures to the counter where the cake is cooling.
“You made this homemade? Every layer? Not even using the store bought wafers?” Ilya asks, sounding astonished.
“Yeah, and each layer took a lo-” but before he can finish his sentence Ilya is licking into his mouth, bringing him in for a frantic kiss.
Shane's body immediately relaxes and melts into Ilya's arms. He tastes better than he remembers. Probably because they've both been showering regularly and eating real food. But that familiar foundation of cigarettes and sweet licorice that is distinctly Ilya remains. Shane grins into the kiss as he pictures Ilya eating candy on the drive up, just like he'd do on his hikes.
“Bedroom? Otherwise I take you here in the kitchen, or your living room,” Ilya pants, grabbing Shane's already hard cock through his sweats.
Shane moans and nods desperately. He leads them up the stairs, which takes a good while because they keep stopping to kiss and grind against one another, losing layers of clothing on the way up.
When they get to the bedroom Shane shoves Ilya against the wall, kissing him and running his hands through the curls he'd missed so much.
They're both only in their underwear now. Shane can already feel that his are becoming damp from precum.
He drops to his knees and mouths at Ilya's cock through his boxer briefs. Ilya lets his head fall back against the wall with a soft thud.
“Shane,” he groans, tangling his fingers in Shane's hair. Shane looks up at Ilya through his lashes.
He's fucking gorgeous. His skin is less tanned than before since he's no longer hiking all day in the summer heat, but he still glows. His lips are full and pink as he opens them to pant, tongue darting out to lick them.
Shane pulls Ilya's underwear the rest of the way off and wastes no time in taking Ilya's hard cock in his mouth. He's waited long enough.
Ilya feels so good. His dick feels big and heavy in his mouth, the weight of him and the scent of his musk causing Shane to short circuit.
Shane fucking loves sucking Ilya off. He loves everything about it. He loves the taste and feel, how a flick or swirl of his tongue can draw out these beautiful faces he makes. Ilya's face scrunches up in pleasure, his brows furrowing. He's panting and breathing hard, murmuring words of encouragement.
“Yes, fuck! Shane, just like that, fuck.”
Shane keens under the praise. He could stay on his knees for Ilya forever, but it's cut short when Ilya is urging him up onto his feet.
“Need to be inside you before I fucking lose it,” Ilya explains, his accent sounding thicker the farther gone he is.
Shane had already prepped himself last night. Ilya had guided him through it over FaceTime, watching as Shane opened himself up with his fingers and then fucked himself with his dildo. It had been one of the hottest things Shane had ever experienced.
“You still ready for me?” Ilya asks, sliding in one lubed up finger at a time, stretching him a bit just to make sure.
“So ready. Please just fuck me,” Shane pleads, spreading his legs wide to give Ilya a better view of his hole.
“Christ,” Ilya moans. He throws Shane's legs over his shoulders. Shane groans in annoyance when Ilya lines himself up but only teases, letting his cock slide over his ass without putting it inside of him.
“Iiiillllyaaa,” Shane whines, not caring if he sounds like a petulant child.
“Da, exactly. I want to hear you, Shane,” Ilya says, nuzzling his face into the warmth of Shane's neck. “We had to be so quiet every other time on the PCT. I've been fantasizing about hearing you loud as I fuck you for months. I want to hear you. Every-fucking-thing. If I see you try to quiet down, I stop,” Ilya says.
Shane nods. “I will do anything you say as long as you get inside me right the fuck now.”
Ilya grins.
Shane nearly purrs in satisfaction when Ilya slides all the way in. Holy shit, how did he go so long without this the last few months? How did he live his life all these years without knowing the pleasure of Ilya Rozanov inside of him?
“Fuuuuuck,” Ilya moans when he bottoms out.
Shane really hopes this rule of being loud goes both ways.
He sees Ilya bite his lip and screw his eyes shut. He wonders if he's trying to stop himself from cumming. Shane is in love with that thought.
When Ilya starts to move his hips into slow, shallow thrusts for Shane to adjust, Shane feels like he's going to implode.
“Ilya, God!” Shane moans, pushing back onto Ilya's dick to encourage him to move faster. He seems to get the hint and speeds up.
“Yes, kotenok. Tell me what you want,” Ilya mumbles against Shane's chest, placing kisses there.
“I want - I need you to… oh, fuck! Yes! Harder!” Shane pleads, but it seems there's no need because Ilya has read his mind halfway through his rambling, giving Shane what he needs before he even finishes asking for it.
Shane digs his fingers into Ilya's biceps. They feel strong and powerful, like they could pin Shane in an instant.
Shane moans long and low when Ilya pounds into his prostate over and over.
“Missed you. Missed this. Missed your cock,” Shane huffs between thrusts.
He hears Ilya moan, and something in his expression shifts darker. Fuck, he really is getting off on hearing Shane, on hearing what he does to him.
The idea of having so much influence over Ilya's pleasure is intoxicating.
“Love your big cock!” Shane moans because Ilya wants to hear him and he's never done anything half-assed in his life.
Shane feels warmth spread over his body when Ilya's hips stutter.
“You take it so well. Sound so perfect,” Ilya praises, unyielding.
Ilya moans and then he's pushing out of Shane, which causes them both to whimper. He shoves Shane onto his stomach, tugging his legs so he's bent over the edge of the bed as Ilya stands behind him.
He reenters him in this new position and Shane lets out the sluttiest moan which he didn't even know he was capable of. But fuck, Ilya is so impossibly deep inside of him, nailing his prostate over and over.
“Ilya, so deep. Oh my God,” Shane slurs, and it's the last thing he says for a while because he is no longer capable of speech.
He lets out a series of embarrassing loud noises that sound more like “ungh!” every time Ilya hits his prostate.
“That's it. I have you. Just let go, kotenok,” Ilya murmurs in his ear.
So Shane does. He lets himself slip away into the pleasure Ilya is providing, his body relaxing around Ilya and trusting completely that he'll take care of him.
Shane's hands fists the sheets and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that he's drooling.
He feels his pleasure building incredibly higher until he finds some of his voice again.
“Ilya, fuck. Gonna cum. Touch me,” Shane demands, surprised by how frantic his voice sounds.
“Shh,” Ilya says, not to shut him up, but to soothe. Ilya is kissing the back of his neck, his spine, his shoulders. He wraps a hand tight around Shane's leaking cock, jerking him off.
Shane turns his head to look at Ilya. The other man looks wild, hair mussed up, eyes glossy and fuck drunk, disoriented.
“Oh, shit! Ilya, I'm… oh fuck!” Shane cries and then his orgasm racks his body. He feels his toes curl and his body goes from relaxed and fluid to tense and taut as he cums with more cries of “ungh!”
“Fuck, Shane!” Ilya moans as he cums soon after, sounding raspy and gutteral.
Ilya rests there a minute, still inside Shane as he rests his forehead on Shane's back, catching his breath as they both come down.
Shane is still reeling from the feeling of Ilya cumming inside of him bare. He's not sure if it will ever get old. It can feel a little gross sometimes, makes him a little self conscious, but that's always dashed away because Ilya always looks simultaneously hypnotized and aroused when he watches it leak out from inside of him.
Ilya licks some of it off Shane's inner thigh and Shane moans, can't help the “Jesus Christ, Ilya,” that escapes his lips. Ilya smacks his ass firmly and then goes to the en suite bathroom to grab a wash cloth.
Shane maybe feels his heart do little flips at the fact that it's Ilya's first time in his home but he is walking around confidently like he's always belonged, like he's comfortable and familiar.
***
Shane made him medovik.
It's all Ilya can think as they lay naked in bed, cuddling and talking about nothing. Ilya wants to stay awake as long as possible and absorb everything about Shane.
He hasn't even really had the opportunity to look around his home because they were in such a hurry to get to the bedroom.
But it took him 6 hours to drive here in Cliff’s shitty car and he just fucked Shane within an inch of his life, so he's tired.
Ilya is in that space where he's starting to doze and everything feels a little fuzzy, when he can feel Shane's energy shift to something more nervous.
“Um, so, my parents know you're here,” Shane says.
“Okay. Why so shifty?” Ilya asks, feeling Shane fidgeting beside him.
“They'd like to meet you. Maybe have lunch tomorrow? But I know we haven't really ever talked about like… what we are to each other. I don't know if you'd be into that. It's fine if you're not! I just thought I'd throw it out there,” Shane rambles.
“Kotenok, it is very cute when you talk so much so fast but it is hard for me to keep up. What are you wanting to know?” Ilya asks.
Shane pauses, furrows his brows, and takes a deep breath before he tries again. Ilya's heart melts because he looks like a disgruntled kitten. His very adorable kotenok.
“Do you want to come to Ottawa with me tomorrow to meet my parents for lunch?”
Ilya's eyes go wide. See Shane's parents’ home? What he calls the shrine to his childhood? An actual Shane Hollander shrine?
“Da, of course,” Ilya says easily, his cheeks almost hurting from beaming so hard. “That is what boyfriends do, yes?”
“Boyfriends?” Shane asks, smiling back at Ilya like he's never seen something so radiant. Ilya preens a bit, can't help it.
“Yes, I think so, probably. We love each other, we talk every day, I don't see anyone else… That's what boyfriends do, yes? I don't know. I've never been a boyfriend before. But I think so,” and now Ilya's rambling.
“Yes, boyfriends. I think that sounds good,” Shane says. He seems like he's trying to suppress his grin but it shines through anyway. Ilya kisses it off his face before settling into Shane's arms and finally falling asleep.
The next morning they frost the medovik to bring to Shane's parents’ place.
They only get a little distracted when Shane gets frosting on his fingers and Ilya sucks them into his mouth to lick it off, which then leads to them giving each other blow jobs up against the kitchen counter.
Ilya is still so fucking proud of Shane’s medovik he can't stop staring at it, and he probably took 500 pictures of it on his phone. They haven't even eaten it yet and Ilya declares it the best medovik ever made by a Canadian.
He puts it into Shane's car carefully in the back seat, making sure to pack it with care. Shane rolls his eyes when he buckles the cake in.
On the drive over, Ilya makes fun of Shane’s very boring car. Shane points out that Ilya doesn't even have a car which is why he drove up in Cliff’s. Ilya tells Shane about all the sports cars he would own if he was rich. Ilya tries to explain to Shane how it's not about flashing your wealth but he just loves the adrenaline of going fast and being on adventures.
When they arrive at Shane's parents home Ilya very carefully unbuckles the medovik from the back seat. He holds it delicately like he's on one of those big cake competitions on the Food Network. The ones where they have a giant tower of pastry they are trying to balance over to the judging table without it falling over. Ilya believes this cake is just as precious.
Nobody but his mom has ever made him medovik.
David and Yuna Hollander answer the door with warm smiles and big hugs.
Ilya admittedly doesn't quite know what to do with his body at first, so he is rigidly at attention and on high alert. He is not used to parents who seem so loving and soft around the eyes, crinkled with laugh lines. The way they look at their son is like he is their whole world and nothing he can do will change that.
Ilya loves that Shane's parents look at him this way. He deserves that.
“Ilya, so great to finally meet you. Shane has told us a lot about you,” Yuna says, walking Ilya over to the kitchen area. She is friendly but also carries a quiet confidence.
“What is that you've brought?” David asks with a grin, looking eager to see what is inside the cardboard box containing the cake.
Ilya recalls Shane describing how much his father loves sweets, even though his mother is always trying to limit them from the house. When Shane tells him that his father has a secret stash of sweets hidden somewhere in the house, Ilya likes him immediately.
“Shane made it for me!” Ilya beams proudly, holding out the box. “It's the most delicious medovik in all of Canada and we brought it to share.”
Shane's face turns red. “Oh my God, Ilya! We haven't even tried it yet.”
“I do not need to try it to know. You always work hard to be the best at everything. So if Shane Hollander makes medovik, I know it is the best. Is simple. Is science.”
David laughs and claps a hand on Ilya's shoulder. Yuna smiles and asks her husband to help serve lunch.
“You're going to put all this pressure on me that it's amazing. What if it's shitty?” Shane whispers nervously.
Ilya frowns. He didn't mean to put the kind of pressure on Shane that he sometimes describes his mom doing.
“I guess it does not matter to me how it tastes. It can be utter shit, and I will still love it because you took the time to make it for me,” Ilya shrugs. “No matter how it tastes it will be perfect because it's from you. Is all I meant, kotenok. I am sorry.”
Shane's body visibly relaxes and he smiles, motioning for Ilya to sit.
The lunch is amazing, and the medovik is perfect. Bonus that it actually tastes great. Ilya can't stop smiling because it tastes like home and love, which are two things that haven't been linked together in his brain in a very long time. Even Shane seems relieved when he takes a bite.
This leads to his parents asking Ilya more about Russia, which he tries to answer in a tone that sounds light and breezy, when he feels anything but. It's not their fault. They are reasonable questions to ask your son's boyfriend. It's not their fault Ilya doesn't have many good things to say.
So he talks about the food, hockey, Svetlana, and things he did with his mother while she was still alive. He side steps the bad stuff.
Shane grumbles at his mom and changes the subject, for which Ilya is grateful.
Ilya offers to help clean up lunch, but Shane’s parents insist on doing it, saying Ilya is their guest and they will not allow him to lift a finger, at least not today.
“You drove up all the way from Boston. The least we can do is make you lunch,” they say.
So Shane gives Ilya the tour of the Shane Hollander childhood shrine. The home is covered in framed photos of the whole family, but mostly of Shane. Shane and his first trip to the beach, Shane playing hockey as a kid, Shane and his high school graduation, and then his college graduation. There are framed jerseys from all his past teams, which Shane finds embarrassing.
“It's not like I went pro or anything,” Shane mutters.
They go up to his childhood bedroom and it's like a time capsule of how Shane must have left it as a teenager.
Ilya laughs when he sees a framed photo of Shane and his prom date. “Very pretty,” Ilya grins.
“Fuck off. I was still trying to be straight,” Shane laughs. “And did a piss poor job. I had a very big crush on her cousin Nate, which I convinced myself wasn't actually a crush when it very much was.”
“Aw, poor teenage Shane Hollander,” Ilya pouts, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing a chaste kiss to his neck. “Does that mean I'm only boy you've had up in your room?”
Shane looks thoughtful for a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess so. I don't think this room saw any action that wasn't my own hand.”
Ilya hums, pulling Shane closer to his chest. He expects the moment to last for a second and then drop, maybe get revisited later tonight when they're alone back at Shane's home.
But to Ilya's surprise Shane turns around in his arms so they're facing each other. Shane places small little kisses on Ilya's neck. Ilya sighs and lets his head fall to the side to give him more access.
“If teenage me knew I'd have someone as hot as you standing in my room someday, I would've never believed it,” Shane mutters, rocking his hips into Ilya's. Ilya can feel how he's half-hard against his thigh.
Ilya tilts his head back to raise an eyebrow at Shane, questioning. Shane can be a bit adventurous, but he doesn't strike Ilya as someone who'd want to have sex with his parents right downstairs, especially when Ilya only met them a few hours ago.
Not that Ilya is totally opposed to the idea. At all. He loves that Shane is full of surprises, always making him curious.
When he first met Shane on the trail he thought he was beautiful but uptight.
He had no idea what he was really in for.
Shane kisses him hard and intensely, reaching behind them to lock the door as he does.
“Wish we had time for you to fuck me,” Shane breaths against Ilya's t-shirt, bunching the fabric in his hands. Ilya sighs happily again as Shane moves his hands up Ilya's bare chest underneath his shirt, mapping out his skin.
“Mmmm,” Ilya hums, walking Shane back towards his bed. “So much lack of sex in here to make up for. I think we'd have time for quickie, yes? Five, ten minutes?”
Ilya is delighted when Shane lifts his arms so Ilya can take off his shirt. He resumes kissing him, fingers grazing and dancing over Shane's arms, his abs, his nipples.
“Yes, fuck, okay,” Shane agrees, breathless, sliding Ilya's shirt off too.
Ilya's pupils blow wide. He did not foresee this happening. Having Shane Hollander in his childhood bedroom, fuck.
Shane separates to fish around for something under his bed. He pulls out a small box, producing a tube of lube.
“That's not like 10 years old, is it?” Ilya asks, wrinkling his nose.
“It’s not the same lube I had in high school, dumbass,” Shane says, squeezing some out onto his hand. “It's for when I come to visit for holidays and stuff.”
“Oooh, naughty boy Shane,” Ilya grins, trying not to dwell too much on the sexy image of Shane visiting for Christmas, touching himself up in his old room.
“You said quickie,” Shane huffs, and Ilya groans quietly when he sees Shane start to use his slick fingers to quickly open himself up. “Lube up your dick or I'm starting without you.”
Ilya doesn't need more motivation than that.
Shane is quick and efficient opening himself up. Normally Ilya would put in more time and care but they don't have much longer before they're missed, and they just fucked last night so it's probably fine.
They don't bother to remove their pants all the way, just shoving them down to their ankles as Ilya bends Shane over the bed.
He enters Shane swift and hard, wasting little time before he's thrusting in and out. Shane feels fucking perfect around his cock and the situation itself is so hot that Ilya knows it would have to be a quickie regardless of how much time they have because he's not lasting long here. Not when Shane is shoving himself back onto Ilya's dick, biting down on his own fist to stifle his moans.
“Jesus, Shane,” Ilya breathes into his ear. Shane’s hole is fluttering and squeezing Ilya's dick so fucking perfectly.
“Fuck, right there,” Shane removes his fist to whimper quietly, biting back down on his hand when Ilya mercilessly hits that same spot over and over as hard and fast as he can.
“Look at you, using your own hand to quiet yourself down. Do you think kids in school knew what a slut you'd be? Did you ever imagine getting bent over and fucked like this?” Ilya whispers into the shell of his ear.
The sound of skin slapping on skin increases as Ilya goes as fast as he can. He hasn't noticed any footsteps coming up the stairs to check on them, which is good because despite their attempts at being quiet, it's still sounds fucking obscene with their panting and skin hitting skin.
He and Shane hadn't really discussed boundaries yet around dirty talk, on what crosses the line, on name calling, but he takes a chance based on everything else Shane has been into so far.
“Your parents are somewhere just on the other side of that door. Not knowing their precious baby boy is getting fucked so good. Do you think they know what a slut you are, Shane Hollander?” Ilya slurs.
He's so fucking far gone. He selfishly doesn't think he could stop if his parents did bust them. He's too busy chasing his own orgasm.
Shane's cock twitches at Ilya's words, his moan louder but thankfully still muffled behind his fist, indicating to Ilya that he doesn't mind at all.
“Slut only for you,” Shane corrects. “N-never thought I'd be fucked by someone as sexy as you,” Shane admits.
Ilya would frown at this if he wasn't so fucked out of his mind. His boyfriend is absolutely gorgeous and the idea he never thought he'd have this is heartbreaking.
Ilya emits a low growl and maneuvers them so they're in front of the mirror hanging by Shane's dresser. The mirror has little notes and pictures from his high school days stuck into the edges of the frame. Ilya makes a mental note to look at them closer when he's not so occupied.
Once they're in line of sight of the mirror, Ilya wraps an arm around Shane's chest from behind, lifting him back towards him so Shane's back is pressed against Ilya's chest. He holds him up like that, encouraging him to look at them in the mirror as he fucks him.
“You deserve it all,” Ilya tells him, placing wet kisses down his neck. “Look at you, so beautiful, krasivyy,” Ilya groans.
They lock eyes in the mirror as Ilya pounds into him, and neither looks away. Not until Shane cums with a cry obscured behind his hand.
Making eye contact is then too much to handle while Ilya keeps thrusting and jerks Shane’s cock through it.
“Fucking… fuck!” Ilya groans as he cums soon after, ineloquent. He rides it out for a few more thrusts before he goes limp, allowing them to fall back against the bed.
They grab tissues from the box on the nightstand to clean up. They laugh as they crowd the mirror and try to help fix each other's appearance into something less obviously fucked out.
Ilya has never been so in love in his entire life.
***
Shane can't believe they just fucked in his old room with his parents right downstairs.
When they make their way back downstairs, he's sure they must have some giant sign above their head announcing they just had sex, but his parents seem none the wiser.
It's so unlike Shane, maybe it doesn't occur to them.
They all sit in the living room with coffee and tea as his parents ask Ilya questions about the PCT. Ilya is as charming as ever as he regales them with stories from his long, six month hike.
“So, what have you been doing since you got back?” His mom asks as she sips her mug of tea.
“Mostly bartending, saving up to come visit Shane,” Ilya says.
“But you graduated university like Shane before hiking the PCT, right? What are your plans?” She probes further, and Shane feels himself tense.
He knows that his mother means well, but it's bad enough that she expects a detailed five year plan from Shane, wanting to ensure he is doing life just like he's supposed to, never making a mistake. She has no right to demand the same of Ilya.
“Mom,” Shane warns, but she just gives a shrug like she can't help but pry, like it's her business.
“I’m making good money from tips right now so that makes it easier to save up,” Ilya offers, seeming undeterred. “I worked very hard in school and got degree in psychology. I hiked PCT as a break while I tried to figure out what to do next. But, um… I had good relationships with my professors. Some of them are encouraging me to apply for graduate school next fall. Is highly competitive but I have been looking at different universities near Montreal. My professors think maybe even McGill is possible, but my gap year on the trail may make it harder. My mama had depression and it was not taken so seriously. I would like to help others get the help they need, if I can.”
Holy shit.
Shane never asked Ilya what his plans were, not wanting to put pressure on him to have his life all figured out. Not wanting to give the kind of pressure he always felt from his mom. Maybe part of him hadn't wanted to hear about Ilya’s life plans that had no room for Shane.
But Ilya has been making plans, plans that include Shane. Of them being together.
Shane wants that so bad.
Ilya looks a little nervous, not directly looking at Shane.
Shane's dad interjects, talking excitedly about his time at McGill and already suggesting plans to get Ilya connected with other alumni. Shane watches Ilya as the other man listens to his dad intently, nodding along, absorbing the information seriously.
Shane hasn't really let himself think about it before this, but it strikes him as he sees Ilya exchanging phone numbers with his parents, as his dad sneaks one more piece of medovik, as Shane still smells Ilya all over him from having sex up in his old room, that he can have all this.
For the first time in his life he can visualize a future that he has chosen for himself, not one that has been predestined for him.
As Shane drives them back to Montreal he can picture Ilya sneaking Russian treats in his packed lunch for work. He can see himself picking Ilya up from a bartending shift, working in the evenings as he goes to school for psychology during the day.
He can see lazy weekends where Ilya is in the living room studying while Shane is on the other end of the couch reading a book. Maybe coming down to visit their parents for dinner and staying the night in Shane's old room once they've all stayed up too late catching up, talking about old memories, drinking too much wine or vodka.
They sit in comfortable silence for an hour or so, Shane silently picturing an entire future, before Ilya breaks it.
“Sorry I did not talk to you about school or Montreal first. I wanted to talk to you about it before I go back to Boston, but I didn't know if you wanted same thing. But then they asked and I didn't want them to think I am lazy or have no goals. I have been thinking long time about going back to school, since the trail,” Ilya rambles, sounding nervous.
“Ilya, I want. I just want whatever lets me have you,” Shane says honestly, cards all on the table.
“Even if I want bright, ridiculous sports car?” Ilya asks with a big grin.
“Even then. And when you get stuck in the Montreal snow because of your terrible taste in cars, I will use my boring car to come rescue you,” Shane promises, meaning every word.
“I don't know, Shane, It might really cramp my style,” Ilya says. He'd learned that term in a movie recently and keeps trying to shoehorn it into every conversation. Shane rolls his eyes.
He then gets an idea. He pulls over into a secluded side road.
“I didn't mean for you to kick me out in the middle of nowhere,” Ilya jokes.
Shane just puts it in park and turns it off, climbing over the center console until he's on Ilya's lap. Not quite as gracefully as he imagined, but he gets the job done. He pulls the lever to push the passenger seat as far as it can go, then reclining it back.
“Jesus, kotenok,” Ilya sighs as Shane starts kissing his neck.
“My boring car is very roomy,” Shane says with a smirk.
He then proceeds to let Ilya fuck him, riding him in the passenger seat. It's a bit cramped and awkward (though not as much as it would be in a stupid sports car) but Ilya doesn't seem to mind at all.
Ilya just looks fucking gone out of his mind. His curly hair is everywhere from Shane running his hands through it, his eyes dazed and full of desire and mumbling a stream of moans and Russian.
“F-fuck, Shane! I love you so fucking much,” Ilya moans as he tries to buck his hips up hard.
Shane has one hand on Ilya's shoulder, the other up flat on the ceiling of the car, both for leverage and to help avoid him hitting his head.
“Love you. Oh my God, right there!” Shane shouts as Ilya hits his prostate over and over.
Then it's a blur of moans, clumsy kisses, and panting breaths as they become consumed with the need to orgasm.
Shane cums with a shout of Ilya’s name, digging little crescent moons into his shoulder with his blunt nails. Ilya cums with a groan of “OhmygodShane!” his head thrown back, baring his neck.
Using this to his advantage, Shane nuzzles his head into Ilya's neck, not caring that his throat is slicked with sweat.
It started raining at some point. Shane hadn't noticed until now, and it pelts the car with a relaxing pitter patter, water streaming down the windows and obscuring the outside world. It feels cozy, like they're the only two people in the world.
“When you get up, you're going to get cum everywhere,” Ilya says with a laugh, breaking the romantic spell Shane was getting lost in.
“Oh my God, shut up! Gross,” Shane complains, but fuck, Ilya is right. Having Ilya not wear a condom feels amazing but is logistically not always convenient.
“We will just have to sit here forever I guess, with me inside you,” Ilya grins, running his hands up and down Shane's back comfortingly.
“Even in my boring, embarrassing car?”
“Especially in your boring, embarrassing car.”
Thankfully he keeps wipes in his car so he is able to clean up his stomach and then just slumps against Ilya, Ilya's arms tightening around him.
Yeah, they can definitely stay like this for a while.