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    Summary

    Ilya frowns. "Hollander, when I fuck people I am in the habit of getting them off. Surely you know this by now."

    "I— fuck, I'm not explaining this right." Hollander scrubs a hand down his face. "I do want to come, just not…" He gestures vaguely between them. "I want to kind of… train my body?"

    "Ah," Ilya says, a sly smile growing on his face. He backs Hollander up to the edge of the bed, his hands in his pockets."You want to take longer than thirty seconds, is that it?"

    He shoots Ilya a dirty look. "Fuck you, it's not thirty seconds."

    "This is true, sometimes it is a whole minute."

    Hollander gives him a shove. "You know what, maybe I don't want to fuck after all—"

    "No, no, is okay, I am only teasing," Ilya says soothingly. He presses their hips flush together, biting back a groan to find Hollander is just as hard as he is. "Is very hot, that you cannot control yourself around me."

    A shadow of uncertainty passes over Hollander's face. "I want to. Control myself." His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. "So if I get close, I need you to stop."

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