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Summary
Yes. This was exactly what he needed. Shane Hollander, best of the best, pliant and eager like putty in his hands. And Ilya would make him wait, would prove that he was in control of the situation. Of his own damn feelings. Prove he could put said feelings to bed after one last good fuck. And that started with denying him here. He pressed their foreheads together, ignoring everything in him saying for the love of God kiss him, and then leaned in to whisper in Hollander’s ear, to deliver the blow he needed to keep himself upright.
“Please, I-Ilya, I need it. Please.”
Oh. Or he could blow it all apart with one word.Or; if Shane had called him Ilya in the Vegas Bathroom
