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Summary
Heavy footsteps. The sensation of the bed dipping on one side. The shuffle of the sheet as Ilya arranges himself. The magnetic sense of him nearby, but not touching him. Shane opens his eyes again.
Ilya is reclined against the pillow, one arm tucked beneath his head and his eyes shut as if he’s gone back to sleep. Fine. Shane was going to let him fuck him, but if Ilya wanted to be an asshole, he wasn’t going to beg.
Neither was he going to wait patiently for his treat. He’d just sleep a little more, too, and hope Ilya is in a better mood later.
*
Ilya isn't really a morning person.
