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    Summary

    Ilya smiled, leaned in for one more quick, dirty kiss. Then he climbed off Shane’s lap, moving to the dresser. He kept his back turned, hiding his actions, drawing this out as long as possible. He heard Shane’s breath hitch, the rustle of fabric as he shifted on the bed, impatient, needy.

    When Ilya finally turned back around, jersey in hand, Shane’s eyes went wide. He took in the familiar yellow and black, the number 81 stitched on the back, the ROZANOV printed in bold letters. His flush spread, creeping down his neck, across his collarbones.

    “Ilya,” he said, voice strangled. “Absolutely not—I can’t—”

    Ilya just grinned, slow and feral. “You can,” he said. “You will.”

    Shane’s mouth opened, closed, embarrassment and desperation warring in his eyes. “But it’s—that’s your—”

    Ilya stalked closer, jersey clutched in one hand.

    “Mine,” he agreed, voice gone rough. “And you’re mine. And tonight, Shane, you’re going to wear my name while I fuck you.”

    Or: the tables finally turn and it´s Ilya´s turn to be a little freak, which of course includes his husband wearing his old Raiders jersey as an anniversary gift to himself

    Series
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