Work Text:
If there’s one thing Ilya Rozanov can recognize without even opening his eyes, it’s when there’s a suspicious lack of a certain Canadian snuggled up against him.
Ilya immediately frowns, slapping his hand down on the mattress and waving it across, attempting to locate his missing boyfriend. However, he finds nothing but the cool comforter and soft sheets within arms reach.
He finally bothers opening his eyes, squinting at the morning sun filtering through half closed blinds. The bed sheets on the side Shane usually sleeps on are mostly made, if a little wrinkled from Ilya’s searching grasp. It seems Hollander got up without even bothering to wake Ilya.
The Russian sits up with a groan, scrubbing his hand over his tired face. The clock on the nightstand reads 7:34 am, the analog clock face returning Ilya’s glare.
When did Shane get up? Surely it can’t have been too long ago, though Ilya wouldn’t put it past his dumbass boyfriend to have a nightmare or something, and just go sit on the couch instead of waking Ilya up to talk about it. Unfortunately, emotional communication is something they both need to work on.
Ilya gets out of bed, throwing on a tanktop and sweats before exiting the bedroom. The sky is mostly clear today, though Ilya thinks the clouds further on the horizon look a little dark. Hopefully it doesn’t storm too hard, though a rainstorm would give Ilya and Shane an excuse to cuddle in bed.
Shane is sitting at the table in the backyard of the cottage, two books open in front of him with a pencil in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other. Ilya furrows his brow inquisitively as he slides on his sandals and opens the back door, slipping out into the cool morning air.
“Hey,” Ilya says simply as he approaches, Shane glancing up and smiling gently as Ilya comes up from behind.
“Morning,” he hums, blushing a little as Ilya kisses the back of Shane’s neck chastely. Hollander has his nerdy reading glasses on, and something about them never fails to make Ilya want Shane impossibly more.
“What are you doing out here? Is too early to be outside,” Ilya remarks, pulling up a chair beside Shane. The metal is freezing against Ilya’s skin, bringing him further into lucidity.
Shane motions to the larger of the two open books, seeming to be a textbook on birds. The smaller looks to be a notebook that he’s been doodling and writing about several of the birds in. “Birdwatching,” he says, glaring at the smirk Ilya immediately gets, “It’s not boring. Birds are very interesting.”
“Ah yes, like stupid Canadian wolf bird?” Ilya teases, leaning in his hand and grinning. Hollander rolls his eyes like he’s annoyed, but there’s a fond little smile on his face.
“Yes, actually. Though the Loon is only one bird in the area. Since we’re so isolated out here, there’s a lot more variety in the wildlife,” Shane explains, putting his binoculars down and pointing to a fluffy, light and dark brown bird on the page of the book he’s on. “Here, you’ve probably heard this one before.”
Ilya examines the picture of the bird and reads its name, looking unimpressed. “Mourning Dove? What, is depressing sounding?” He jokes, but Hollander nods.
“Yeah, its call sounds pretty sad. They’re in cities and stuff too—” Hollander pauses as a bird calls nearby, sounding almost as if it’s crying. “There! That’s what they sound like.”
“Hm, that does sound familiar,” Ilya remarks, “Oh, it reminds of how you whine when I pull out early.” Shane’s face, despite the cool morning air of Ottawa, immediately reddens with a flustered warmth.
“Oh my— fuck off, Rozanov,” Shane huffs with a poorly suppressed smile, “I do not whine.” That makes Ilya grin mischievously, leaning closer.
“Oh, yes you do. You whine so much,” Ilya purrs, pulling Hollander into a hug and nuzzling against him. Shane grumbles and closes his books, but his smile remains.
“…You feel warm,” Shane admits after a moment of quiet between them, and Ilya rolls his eyes.
“That’s probably because you’re doing boring birdstalking out here before 8 am instead of cuddling up in bed with your boyfriend,” Ilya points out, standing up and prompting Shane to do the same.
“I’m not stalking the birds,” Hollander insists as he gathers his items and they both begin walking back to the cottage, “It’s just watching. Observing.”
“Mhm, sure, Mr. Birdstalker,” Ilya croons smugly, holding the door open for Shane as they enter into the much warmer cottage. Hollander sets his stuff on the kitchen counter, turning to Ilya and leaning back against the countertop.
“You’re an asshole,” Shane grumbles, looking at the floor with a shy smile. Ilya grins and steps closer, reaching up and grabbing Shane’s face the way the shorter man loves.
“Mmm, am I?” Ilya hums, pressing their lips together warmly. Their kisses are never chaste, never quick or shy. It’s a slow, deep dance between their mouths, breaths mingling together as their faces mush together messily. Shane’s lips are always soft but chewed on, since Hollander always seems to need something, or someone, occupying his mouth.
Shane pulls away and makes a face at Ilya’s morning breath, making the Russian laugh and nuzzle into Hollander’s neck affectionately. “Mmm, let’s go back to bed,” Ilya whines, his hands coming to grasp Shane’s hips, “Want to cuddle, is too early to be up during summer…”
“You’re such a baby,” Shane laughs, but allows Ilya to tug him to their bedroom. The shades are still half closed, leaving the room dim and comfortable. Ilya is the first to strip back down to his boxers and climb back in bed, though he grimaces at how the sheets have cooled. Hollander rolls his eyes at this and also takes his shirt and pants off, before grabbing a remote from its place on the wall.
Ilya eyes it, glaring suspiciously. “What is this?” He asks, but as Shane presses a button, Ilya feels the mattress begin to warm.
“Just temperature and position controls for the mattress. There’s an app to control the sides separately, but this remote just does the whole bed,” Shane explains, settling into his side of the now warm bed. “The mattress wasn’t cheap, but it’s easier to sleep when I can control the temperature better.”
Ilya hums, tugging Shane closer and having the shorter man cuddle up to him. “So smart,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face into Shane’s hair, “Mmm… let’s go back to sleep, Hollander…”
“Alright, alright. But only for a bit,” Shane insists, lying his head against Ilya’s chest. Shane couldn’t pick a 100% favorite thing about Ilya’s body, but his chest is near the top. Especially when Ilya lets him nibble on his skin or nipples to keep the Canadian’s mouth occupied.
—
“Dammit…”
Ilya glances up from his phone to look at Shane, who’s looking in the fancy fridge with a frown. “What? Something is wrong?” Ilya asks, moving away from the kitchen island and coming up behind Shane to also look in the fridge.
“I’m out of Ginger Ale,” Shane sighs, hanging his head as he shuts the refrigerator door, “Fuck…”
Ilya grimaces, tugging Shane back against his chest into an embrace. He knows that Ginger Ale is a comfort drink for Shane, something he’s always able to drink, even if overstimulated.
“Where is nearest store?” Ilya murmurs into Shane’s neck, rubbing slow and methodical circles on the shorter man’s hip.
“Like, 20 minutes away,” Shane huffs, closing his eyes and allowing himself to be grounded by Ilya’s touch. Sometimes when he’s frustrated, Shane feels like if someone touched him, he’d cry from both anger and gratitude, and maybe bite them. However, something about Ilya’s touch always brings him back from his own head, helps him stay stable.
They stand there quietly for a minute, Shane taking deep breaths as he thinks. “You want me to go with you?” Ilya offers, but Shane shakes his head.
“No, ‘s okay. We were gonna need more condoms soon anyway,” Shane says with a shrug, “You want anything? I can look for some of that fancy vodka if you want.” Ilya perks up at the mention of vodka, and smiles at Shane while reaching for his hand.
“да, I would appreciate that, Shane,” Ilya hums, leaning in and kissing Shane warmly. The Canadian man immediately reciprocates, leaning into the touch as Ilya’s other hand comes to cradle Shane’s cheek.
“I’ll try and find some for you,” Shane says, lingering in Ilya’s touch, “I should be back in, like, 40 minutes.” Hollander smiles a little, looking up at Ilya. “Don’t, like, set the place on fire, yeah?”
Ilya laughs and smiles fondly at Shane, squeezing his arm before Shane pulls away. “I’ll be waiting,” Ilya assures, watching as Shane shrugs on his jacket and pulls on his shoes before heading out the door.
As soon as Shane is out the door, the cottage’s air shifts. As if even the environment knows that Ilya’s Canadian is gone now.
The Russian putters around the kitchen for a little bit, however he isn’t really interested in anything there. Not without Shane there to talk to, to tease, to touch. Ilya knows it seems pathetic, Shane has been gone for maybe 5 minutes, but dammit, he wants his boyfriend back.
As Ilya is searching for something to do, his eyes are drawn to Shane’s birdwatching equipment on the counter. Perhaps he was too harsh on it earlier…
The storm clouds that were distant before are much closer now, in fact most of the nearly midday sky is obscured by grey and dreary clouds. Ilya should probably spend as much time as he can outside before the downpour starts, and it’s not like Shane said he couldn’t use the binoculars and books.
Ilya tests the weight of the binoculars in his hand, humming softly. Maybe just for a little bit, just to see what birds are around. Maybe he could astound Shane with his knowledge of local birds later.
—
Shane glances wearily up at the sky as he gets out of his car.
The grocery trip was uneventful, and he even managed to find the vodka Ilya wanted, but the sky now grey and ominous. They’re in for a summer storm alright, and one he’d rather be inside for.
“Ilya, I’m back,” Shane calls into the cottage as he enters, taking his jacket off before setting the grocery bag on the kitchen counter. The cashier, a girl no older than 19, had given him a weird look for his purchase of Ginger Ale, vodka, and a bulk pack of large condoms, but hadn’t verbally questioned the choice.
He sees Ilya out in the backyard at the table holding… Shane’s binoculars? Shane heads into the backyard, coming up behind his boyfriend and peeking at the birdwatching notebook with a page now full of notes.
“I thought birdwatching was boring?” Shane asks smugly, resting his head atop Ilya’s as the Russian grunts.
“Is still boring. But is also something you like,” Ilya points out like it’s obvious, before setting the binoculars down and flipping to another page in the ornithology book. Shane pauses at that, feeling a warm blush creep up his neck to his cheeks despite the chilly air.
The shorter man finds himself unable to formulate a response to that. Shane’s still adjusting to having someone just. Do things. Because Shane thinks it’s interesting, and that interests Ilya.
The Russian seems to sense Shane’s shock and chuckles, turning his head to look up at Shane with a smirk. “What? Is it so unbelievable that I would do something because I care about your interests?” He teases. Shane swallows nervously before shrugging, looking away as his hot blush spreads up to his ears.
“I-I… I guess I haven’t really had a partner do that before,” he mumbles, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Ilya’s neck, and then burying his face between Ilya’s scalene muscles and Shane’s own arm. The Canadian can sense how his face burns, both from embarrassment and flusteredness.
Ilya reaches up to rest his hand in Shane’s hair, smiling gently. “You are so cute like this, like a котëнок,” Ilya purrs, pulling away so he can stand up and face Shane.
“What’s that?” Shane asks suspiciously, eyeing Ilya as the Russian gathers the books and binoculars.
“A kitty,” Ilya says smugly, tapping Shane’s nose, “You are cute like a kitty. So easy to fluster.” The shorter man reddens impossibly more, crossing his arms and trying to look angry.
“I am not cute,” Shane protests, following Ilya back inside, “And I’m not like a cat either. I’m like a… a wolf or something.” Ilya fully laughs at that, closing the door and setting the items down before backing Shane into the floor to ceiling windows.
“A wolf, eh? More like scrappy little wolf pup, so hungry for me,” the Russian murmurs into Shane’s ear, feeling how the shorter man shivers. Ilya’s hand reaches down to caress the increasingly obvious bulge in Shane’s pants. “See? So desperate and wanton for me, you get aroused from me just looking at your birdies.”
“F-fuck you, Rozanov,” Shane hisses half heartedly, but he feels how horny he is for Ilya. It’s impossible to not get hard when your hot boyfriend validates your interests, even a little. Ilya simply grins at Shane’s attempt at attitude.
“Oh, I think you mean ‘Fuck me’, Hollander,” the taller purrs, finally kissing Shane’s hungry lips before moving on to his tanned, freckle dotted neck.
Shane lets out a needy, keening whine, pressing his thighs together as he starts to tremble from sheer need. “Nnghh… p-please, Ilya,” he whimpers, “Fuck me.” The Russian grins widely, before picking Shane up by the thighs like he weighs nothing.
“Such a good boy,” Ilya purrs, need practically radiating off of him as he heads toward their bedroom with Shane in his arms.
—
“Fuck… glad we went inside when we did.”
Ilya looks up from between Shane’s thighs, now littered with bite marks and bruises, where he’s wiping Shane clean with a wash cloth.
The Canadian senses Ilya’s confusion and nods outside, where it’s begun moderately raining. Ilya nods, glancing outside before returning his gaze to Shane’s splayed out form.
“Indeed, would not to get caught out there,” Ilya hums, tossing the washcloth into the hamper before leaning down and kissing his well-fucked boyfriend. “Though, you always look so pretty when you’re soaked.”
Shane scoffs and pushes Ilya’s grinning face away half heartedly. “Shut up, asshole,” he groans, unable to stop himself from smiling as the Russian lies beside Shane and tugs the shorter man against him.
“Oh, you love me,” Ilya teases, and Shane can’t resist the way his smile softens into something more genuine and loving as he nuzzles against Ilya’s chest.
“Yeah… yeah I do,” he admits.
They lay there for a moment together, quiet and content.
“So birdwatching is still boring to you?” Shane asks with a smile, and Ilya rolls his eyes fondly.
“Yes, is still boring. But I have more interesting association now,” he jokes, leading to Shane scoffing before leaning up and connecting their lips.