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Summary
“You called me puppy last night.”
Ilya’s heart gave a quick, dreadful jerk as he stood there, time passing like a slow rolling current. He shot a glance at the textbook in Shane’s lap again, then held his face smooth, biting his tongue, a worrying tension in the muscles of his forehead and jaw. They’d occasionally call one another pet names in bed, but nothing like that.
Finally, he answered, “Did you like it?”
An immediate blush bloomed across Shane’s face, and he looked away as he closed the textbook.
“I think so,” He finally answered, simpering. “More than I thought.”