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    Summary

    Shane’s entire body went taught as a bowstring when he heard Ilya make his way up the hall. About fucking time.

    His relief was temporary. Lightning-quick, Ilya slipped into the room and killed the lights. Everything went dim, and Shane’s eyes took a few long seconds to adjust to the solitary glow of the dresser lamp. When he finally saw what Ilya was wearing, his brain short-circuited.

    “Oh my God, Ilya.”

    “You like?”

    Shane liked. Christ, he liked. He liked so fucking much.

    Ilya prowled towards the bed. “How do I look in red? Ottawa colors. Our secret. Do not tell Boston.”

    -OR-

    After years of dancing around each other, Shane and Ilya can finally have a relationship beyond the walls of a hotel room. Things don't feel quite real at first, but a night of unexpected vulnerability and experimentation changes that.

    Language:
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