Adult Content Warning
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Summary
Ilya is so taken aback by the way Shane turns towards him, slipping off his seat and squeezing between the stool and Ilya, that he freezes. He can’t help the way his gaze wanders down the length of Shane’s body, can’t help but inhale deeply so that he smells the familiar scent of Shane’s shampoo just lingering underneath the cologne. He clasps his hands over his bottle, then clamps one down over his mouth as he watches Shane walk away.
Don’t do it, Ilya, he thinks, even as he’s getting up out of his own seat and following Shane.
He reaches Shane in five strides, grabs the back of his jacket and steers him to a secluded corner just behind the bar.
“Are you still with Rose fucking Landry?”
He can’t be any clearer than that.
“No, I’m not. I just told you, we’re not–“
“Compatible, yes. How the fuck am I supposed to know what that means?”
Ilya knows exactly what Shane was doing when he slid off that barstool and pressed himself against Ilya, and he is a very weak man for Shane Hollander.