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Summary
Shane climbs on top of him then, swinging a muscular thigh over Ilya’s shoulder, and then he’s seated on Ilya’s chest, his knees framing Ilya’s head, leaning back so he can still look down and lock eyes with him. “You can do this, can’t you? Just be good and keep that mouth open for me. Let me grind on your tongue, make myself feel good since you can’t do it.”
And it’s a lie, of course it is, both of them know Ilya was making Shane feel so good he couldn’t even handle it, but fuck. Ilya nods, desperate and dizzy with it, opening his mouth already, showing his tongue off to Shane like he’s proving himself, look at me, I can follow commands, I can open my mouth for you, I can stick my tongue out and pant for you like a fucking dog, he thinks.
“Fuck, you look stupid,” is the last thing Shane says before he lifts his hips up, taking his weight off of Ilya’s chest, and lowers himself down until his cheeks are smothering Ilya, until Ilya’s tongue is right against his hole, warm and engulfing, and Shane’s balls are resting heavy on his face.
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Part 3 of pathetic, loser, stoner, frat bro Ilya x cool, confident, slightly mean jock Shane
Series
- Part 3 of Stoner Ilya