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    Summary

    “I don’t think you can last two weeks without fucking me.” Shane stated, pride filling his voice.
    “Shane,” Ilya said testily. “I went two weeks not too long ago. But sure, you have two weeks to come up with name. Is that deadline you want to make.”
    God, curse Ilya for remembering every single little thing. Despite himself, and his body that was aching for Ilya’s cock, he nodded confidently.
    “I won’t even need two weeks.”
    Ilya, the bastard, laughed at that. “Okay Shane. We will see.”

    OR:

    Ilya has pet names for Shane in two languages. An abundance of them really. Ilya feels Shane can muster up a nickname or two, starting another competition between husbands and a bet with a promise. Can Shane come up with at least one nickname to make the notorious blush-free Russian flustered?

    Language:
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