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Summary
God, it’s so big and so heavy, and Shane’s taken it before, but it’s just so much every time. “S—Sir,” Shane wheezes, eyes fluttering open. “Big, it’s—”
“It’ll fit,” Ilya says gently, rubbing Shane’s clit with firm fingers, barely letting up for a second. “It always fits, doesn’t it? Perfect little pussy. So fucking good for me.”
“Ilya,” Shane chokes, and gets a harsh slap on his thigh for it. “Sir,” he babbles. “Sir, please—”
Ilya kisses his clit, slipping another finger beside the puck, and Shane’s back arches off the bench as he comes again, howling.
“My good luck charm,” Ilya says, hours or days later. All smug, pressing a kiss to the crease of his hip when Shane sobs he can’t do one more. “Keeping the puck warm so we can win, yes?”
or, shane pussywarms the puck.
Series
- Part 1 of hollanov smut