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Summary
"Fuck, Hollander." God, Rozanov sounded wrecked, the pleasure-drowned sound of his voice drawing Shane's eyes open; gut-punched at what he saw when he did.
Rozanov didn't just sound wrecked, he looked it, his flushed face hovering above Shane's, rosy mouth parted and panting, pupils almost completely eclipsing the blue, artery jumping in his neck so alluringly that Shane felt the impulse to bite it, to feel Rozanov's heartbeat between his teeth and know that Shane was the one making it race like that.
The impulse was so strong that it scared him, Shane quickly shoving it down, using his hands to pull Rozanov down for a kiss instead, desperate and hungry, hiking his other knee up higher against Rozanov's side and—
"Holy shit, Rozanov."
Or, a more detailed look at Shane and Ilya's first time at Shane's apartment in E2.