Frendahh
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He’s frowning down at his shoes when a sleepy, beautiful, rumpled Shane Hollander pulls open the door. God, he’s so pretty, Ilya thinks. His hair is sticking out in all directions and there’s a pink line across his cheeks where he must have been laying on his own arm. He’s only in his boxers. He gives Ilya a very sweet little smirk.
“You know where the spare key is,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “Why didn’t you just use that?”
Ilya shrugs and lists to the side a bit. “Forgot. Did I wake you, baby? I’m sorry,” he’s still slurring a bit, he knows. And the ‘baby’ is a dead giveaway that he’s drunk. He hardly ever uses that pet name. Can’t resist right now.
This is his baby. His baby Shane. He loves him.
“You’re drunk,” Shane chuckles.
“Mmm,” Ilya muses. “Yes, very.”
Bookmarked by Frendahh
23 Jan 2026