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    Summary

    “Can I help you?”

    The question snapped Shane out of his stupor. The man had a deep, accented voice, his tone flat enough to make it clear that helping Shane was probably the last thing he wanted to do.

    With the door open, Shane could hear music spilling out and the sharp clatter of ice cubes as the man shook the drink Shane just noticed he was holding.

    “I, uh, live downstairs.” Shane managed, forcing himself to stand up straighter.

    The man simply stared at him, his plush lips pursing slightly. “Okay.”

    Shane swallowed and just went for it. “I don't care that you're having people over. But I can hear everything through my ceiling. The music, people yelling, whatever the hell someone dropped five minutes ago–”

    The man cocked his head, regarding him with amusement now as he interrupted Shane. “It is not even midnight.”

    Shane clamped his mouth shut. “People are still allowed to sleep before midnight.”

    “On Friday?”

    “Yes, on Friday.”

    -------

    Or: AU / Shane complaining about his upstairs neighbour Ilya’s loud parties turns into not one, not two, but three orgasms. And maybe even something new.

    Language:
    English
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