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Shane sat on a bench in the shade of a maple tree, drinking from his water bottle. Like his running shoes, the bottle also bore the Reebok logo; he felt he was fulfilling his part of the deal with his sponsored brand, and it felt satisfying. Not quite as satisfying as his morning run, but still pretty nice.
Sweat dripped down his temples as he tried to catch his breath. He had been jogging for nearly an hour and was near Ilya’s house; the weather in Ottawa was sunny and starting to warm after a long, rainy spring.
A little farther from him, there was a lady sitting on a bench, watching a young boy play in the bright blue and yellow playground equipment. That’s when he heard it.
The kid was hanging from the bars, balancing and then gripping the next, reminding Shane of an agile little monkey as he moved around the playground using the rings.
Shane remembered a time when it was easy to do something like this; alas, he’d long since grown into adulthood and knew very well the strength it took to do it nowadays.
When the woman spoke to her son, her words flowed like a song, and Shane instantly recognized the melodic Slavic language: Russian.
One word in particular caught his attention; it was a word Ilya often used when Shane was nearby, especially when they were alone and cuddling or engaged in something more intimate.
It seemed strange to him that a woman would name her child the same as Ilya called Shane. He wondered if he had misheard or confused her words with Ilya’s. After all, he was not familiar with this language, despite trying to learn it.
“зайчик”
To Shane, it sounded like zaychik; the word stood out from the woman’s entire sentence because it was the only one Shane actually recognized.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should ask because this was the kind of thing Ilya always stayed evasive about whenever Shane inquired. His Russian boyfriend would blush, sometimes scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment, or outright change the subject when Shane asked him the meaning of those whispered words.
Shane wiped the sweat off his face and decided to politely approach the woman, “Excuse me?” he said cautiously to avoid startling her.
The woman turned to look at him, surprised, and Shane asked, “I was just hearing you talk Russian, and I was wondering what the word zaychik means?” Then, he nervously added, “It’s just—I’ve heard it before, and I don’t know what it means…”
The woman blinked, then smiled, “Oh, I see, it means ‘little rabbit’, or ‘bunny’,” she explained with a thick Russian accent that Shane knew all too well.
“Oh,” he said, nodding, while his mind raced. Ilya had been calling his bunny…
He felt heat rising to his cheeks.
“And, this term of endearment is used on children?” Shane mused aloud.
“Can be; can also be for boyfriends, or husband,” the woman said, her pale eyes locking onto Shane with a flicker of humor. “Very versatile pet name,” she joked. “Has anyone called you that?” she asked while keeping an eye out for her kid.
“What if they did?” Shane replied almost grudgingly.
“Then, they love you very much,” the woman said confidently, and Shane laughed. That was true, but he wouldn’t tell this stranger that.
“Well, thank you, have a nice day,” Shane politely said before turning around and walking toward Ilya’s house.
Bunny…
Ilya was calling him bunny while they cuddled, kissed, and…fucked.
Again, heat flared to his face. Why was this so damn cute coming from his big hunk of a Russian boyfriend? Shane realized his cheeks hurt from smiling, and he couldn’t stop.
When he entered the house, Ilya was stepping out of the shower, his blond curls damp, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Shane shamelessly ogled him.
There, before him, was a prime piece of real estate, and he, Mr. Real Estate, took it all in. He didn’t miss the smile on his boyfriend’s face. Ilya knew he was being watched and enjoyed it as much as Shane enjoyed watching.
“I’ll wait for you in the bedroom,” Ilya told him, throwing him a suggestive glance that made Shane’s belly feel hot.
This man—this infuriating, good-looking, gentle brute of a Russian—was calling him bunny.
Shane sighed with a mix of annoyance and fondness.
Ilya was such a prat.
And he had such a nice ass…
And that dick. Wow.
He shook himself; he had a shower to take before rejoining his stupid, lovely, cocky, tender boyfriend, who called him bunny of all things.
Shane harrumphed, thinking that maybe Ilya was calling him that because of his restrictive and green-oriented diet, but also remembered that the bunny word had come up long before that…
Shane took a shower, thinking about rabbits, Russians, and how a Russian was secretly calling him a rabbit.
He huffed, scoffed, smiled, then laughed at the odd contrast of Ilya Rozanov, universally acknowledged as an asshole, calling him 'bunny,' like the soft, tender-hearted, and complex man that he was.
Shane dried himself off with a towel for about twenty seconds, then hung it on the wall and went back to his lover. His back was still wet, but he didn’t mind; with his long hair soaked, water would drip down his back anyway.
Ilya lay on his back, naked on the bed, with his muscled arm behind his head; one of his long legs was bent, while the other rested lazily on the bed cover. When he saw Shane, he raised his hand and signaled for him to come closer. Shane didn’t need an invitation to approach; he was already inclined to touch all that golden skin on display.
He crawled on the bed on his hands and knees, his eyes never leaving Ilya’s. The man’s golden crucifix was carelessly settled on the dip of his collarbone, and Shane longed to lick the spot and inhale a scent that was so Ilya.
Masculine, clean, familiar, arousing.
Shane kissed the gentle curve of Ilya’s hips, then his toned stomach. He pressed kisses on his lover’s chest before reaching his collarbone, where his mother’s jewel rested on his skin. Ilya’s flesh was soft, warm, and fragrant, and Shane took a deep breath.
Whatever feathers had been ruffled over the bunny incident were quickly restored to their rightful place. Ilya felt safe, like home, and Shane didn’t mind the cute pet name when all of Ilya was laid bare before him like a feast.
His eyes then moved to Ilya’s parted lips—pink, full, and often curved into a small smile whenever Shane was nearby. He lifted his head and pressed his lips to Ilya’s in a slow kiss that was more about tasting him than provoking any response. His lover’s hand was on Shane’s backside, cupping one cheek and gently stroking the skin. He shivered as the coolness of his freshly showered skin contrasted with the warmth of Ilya’s palm.
Shane rested his head on Ilya’s chest, listening to his lover’s heartbeat as he enjoyed a massage. He wrapped his arm around Ilya’s waist and closed his eyes to the slow, rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump of Ilya’s strong, loud, and wild heartbeat.
Shane smiled at the thought that his heart was filled with love for him, and the comforting lub-dub lullaby of his boyfriend’s heart eased his overthinking mind.
“Ya lyublyu tebya, zaychik,” Ilya whispered, as he laid a kiss on Shane’s head.
A flurry of butterflies flew in his belly. The first words he knew; those he’d learned early on, and now, he knew what the last one meant: bunny.
Shane said nothing, choosing not to talk about Ilya’s secretly cute name for him.
He found he really didn’t mind; not at all. He smiled and kissed Ilya’s chest, right on his beating heart.
“I love you, too, Ilya,” he whispered in return.
An image of himself with bunny ears flew through his mind, and he smothered a chuckle.
Was this how Ilya saw him?
Maybe; after all, wasn’t he a safe creature of habit who ate a lot of vegetables? A creature who liked to cuddle, and to fuck—a lot. He was fast, had quick reflexes, and was harmless enough.
Sweet even.
Or boring—as Ilya liked to call it, although when he did, he always had this tenderness in his gaze that let Shane know the word wasn’t an insult. More of an endearing quality. He was like an island in the storm that had been Ilya’s life.
He was the sand, the beach, and the palm trees, after what had likely been a decade of hurricanes for the Russian.
Shane didn’t mind being Ilya’s bunny.
In fact, he liked it a lot.