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    Summary

    "Condoms," Shane gasps out. "We don't have condoms."

    Ilya groans, this one of displeasure. The last thing he wants to do is leave the space between Shane's ridiculously perfect thighs to go hunt down a piece of rubber. Though the image of Shane, panting and worked up, is a thing of beauty. It sounds fun, but Ilya needs it now just as bad.

    "Do we need them?" Ilya asks, mostly as a joke. He makes a move to leave, but Shane's legs tighten around him.

    Shane lets out a moan. "I'm clean."

    Ilya gets to fuck Shane raw. He doesn't last long.

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