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Ilya’s cocky about it, at first. Naturally. Why wouldn’t he? Shane, who is so inexperienced, so sweet and defensive about it and so willing to learn anyway. Ilya enjoys being his first, or at the very least his first something. He doesn’t ask. They never ask; not at first, but there’s only so much a body can shield. Ilya can tell when he comes too quickly, when he does something to him with clumsy hands and an uncertain and overeager mouth. Things that Ilya enjoys, though he knows Shane feels frustrated sometimes. But he learns. Oh, he learns.
Ilya likes being desired, so of course he laps it all up when he notices the way he stares at his lips. Relishes in the way he flushes when Ilya taps his chin to force his gaze to meet his. Shane always keeps their gazes locked for longer than Ilya thinks he wants to, and he equates that with stubbornness, because he got caught, because Ilya can see the lust in the way he always rests his gaze on his mouth. Ilya notices it each time.
The other part, the rest of it, he notices much later.
It freaks him out a bit, if he’s being honest. Lips are different to dicks, or muscles. Hands even. Staring at someone’s lips means you wish to kiss them, and while Ilya’s never had any problem with kissing Shane - craves it, though he tries not to dwell on it too much - he realizes that it’s intimate in a different way.
But Shane’s using him for sex too. He tries to tell himself that. And Ilya knows sex. Ilya knows how to move and how to charm and how to suck and how to bite. Of course Shane’s staring at his lips. Of course he fucking wants him.
The much later, where the rest of it gets discovered, finds them with labels and confessions, and it’s this new ease, which is more terrifying than Ilya’s ready to admit, that has him finally noticing it in between the mundanity of their days at the cottage. And Ilya realizes he’s probably known about it for a lot longer, but has never known how to interpret it. Decided to latch onto what he thought he understood.
“You don’t like eye contact.” It slips out. He doesn’t usually tell Shane how he’s interpreted something. Prefers to ask and let him explain.
Shane shifts where he sits. He doesn’t like being caught out. Ilya knows this. Ilya wants to bite his own tongue off.
“I-” He clears his throat. Ilya wants to jump off a cliff. “I have a few issues with it, sometimes.” He looks up then, right into Ilya’s eyes. “Does that bother you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, not at all.”
“Okay.” He lowers his gaze, first to Ilya’s lips, then averts it completely. Ilya struggles against the instinct to reach for his chin and tip it upward. Has a moment of brief panic that he’s crossed Shane’s boundaries when he’s done it before.
“Do you, uh-” It’s early morning. Nowhere for them to hide. No darkness to make decisions for them. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Their knees are brushing where they sit, cross-legged so that Ilya isn’t too close and can see him better. As long as their knees are touching he decides there’s no reason to panic.
“I don’t really know what I would say about it.” He shrugs, and Ilya tries to see it as something casual rather than something dismissive. Something defensive. “I’ve always had trouble with it. It just-” He looks at him, at his lips and then his eyes. “It takes me a while to be able to look at people. It’s not like it scares me or anything. I don’t know.”
“Is it too vulnerable?”
“Not always. And I mean-” He smiles. It’s not sad. It’s fucking beautiful. “Vulnerability can be good too.”
Ilya nods. And yet he can’t always look at him. And yet he loves him.
“It’s nothing personal, you know.” Shane places a finger to his knee. “I wish I could look at you all day everyday.” He doesn’t blush when he says it. Has found a home within his feelings. Ilya’s glad, though he misses the timidness sometimes.
“You kept looking at my lips,” he says. “I thought you just really wanted me.” He says it with a smirk which doesn’t reach his eyes, he can tell.
But Shane laughs. Shane laughs and squeezes his knee and it makes Ilya pull away on instinct. “No, I definitely really wanted you. When I look at others I will look at their forehead or something.”
“Oh.”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Very.” He leans in, lets Shane close the gap. “I feel bad for not having noticed.”
“I think twenty something years of doing it makes me pretty good at hiding it.” Shane presses his palm into Ilya’s knee. “It-” He cuts himself off. Ilya gives him time. “It kind of made me panic a bit that you noticed it. It’s fine though,” he adds, eyes on Ilya’s. No stopover at his lips. “I think it’s probably a good thing that you know.”
“Oh?” Ilya gently prompts and puts his hand over Shane’s.
“If I’m ever not looking at you, or not fully at you, you won’t think I’m mad or pulling away or anything.”
“You forget I am not the overthinker in this relationship.” He grins when Shane huffs and laughs when his knee is squeezed again. “Hey, is true.”
“You love my overthinking.”
“Yes.”
Shane pulls his gaze downward, and Ilya thinks he’s rebooting or resting again - whatever the reason he does it - only to realize he’s looking at his knee. “You’re ticklish here.”
“I’m not.” He’s not sure why he’s denying it.
“You so are.” Another squeeze, which has Ilya reaching out to push his hand off. “See, right here.” Shane’s so happy about it that he doesn’t have the heart to put up a front. Most importantly, Shane is looking at him, looking him right in the eye, and he doesn’t seem to struggle with it. It seems to be happening with ease.
And who is Ilya to ruin that?
He rubs at the spot. “Ah, maybe a little bit.”
“I didn’t even know that. Where else are you ticklish?”
Shane leans closer, his gaze still on Ilya, and it’s the intimacy of it all, the playfulness and trust which has him rooted to the spot. He will only move when it becomes too ticklish. When squirming won’t be enough to handle it. And Shane will tease him in his own way and maybe Ilya will be embarrassed, but it will be worth it if Shane looks at him with comfort. And with time, Ilya will realize that comfort doesn’t always mean eye contact. That Shane can rest his gaze on his lips, his lap, the wall behind him, and be perfectly at ease because Ilya doesn’t demand something of him.
He will find all of this out. He just has to endure some tickling before they get there.
Shane places his hand on Ilya’s ankle. “Are your feet ticklish?”
Ilya fights the instinct to pull away. “No.”
A grin finds Shane’s lips. It’s almost scary. “I think you’re lying.” He taps a finger, once, twice. “Prove me wrong, I dare you.”
Ilya makes a determined sound. “You know I do not lose dares.”
“I think you’re about to lose this one.”
Shane looks so happy to be teasing. Ilya will claim that as the reason for how quickly he folds. One tickle to his foot, his knee, an experimental poke to his ribs, and Ilya will grab Shane’s wrists to stop him, and he will only retaliate once Shane’s gaze isn’t on him any longer.