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    Summary

    Ilya shook his head, glancing around the yard to make sure no one was watching. They would surely stick out like a sore thumb together.

    “For someone that thinks they have me figured out, you are oblivious.” Ilya’s voice softened. He reached up, this time grabbing Shane by the shoulder and gazing deep into his eyes. His fingers toyed with the collar of Shane’s band tee.

    Realization dawned upon Shane’s doe-like features, “What do you want then?” His voice lowered to a whisper

    “If you come back with me to my room, I can show you.” Ilya could not tear his eyes away from the glint of Shane’s lip ring, it called to him, begging to be bitten.

    Shane looked up at him through thick lashes for a moment, regarding his words. Then, unexpectedly, he began to cackle. A deep belly laugh, a smile so big that Ilya didn’t even realize was possible for the moody boy to produce.

    He had made a huge mistake. Completely misread Shane’s wandering glances. "In your fucking dreams, Rozanov.”

    --

    Or, Ilya is a douchebag frat president and Shane is the hot brooding emo boy that finally puts him in his place.

    (Featuring Ilya "I get so gay off that tequila" Rozanov)

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