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Summary
Shane still feels a little bit like he's flying. No, not flying; skimming weightlessly down the ice. Maybe that's why he can't seem to stop the question from slipping out.
"Um…how was it?" he asks, the words feeling somewhere faraway.
How was I? he doesn't add, and doesn't know if he hopes Ilya will hear the real question beneath.
Or, Ilya reassures Shane just how much he wants him.
