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Summary
Ilya blinks at him. Once, twice, three times. And then he bursts out laughing.
“This- this is not funny, stop laughing at me, you asshole,” but Ilya’s reasonable response to Shane’s freak out had somewhat broken Shane out of his paranoia, and he finds himself smiling.
“Sweetheart, sweetheart,” Ilya sits up in bed and leans down so he can take Shane’s face in his hands, shoulders still shaking from laughter. “You are crying because you want my cock so bad. I love you so much.”