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"Shane, are you okay? You seem distracted?" his Dad asked him after he had checked out from their conversation again.
"What?" he asked, snapping back to the conversation his parents were having.
"You keep zoning out," his Mom replied. "I was asking about if you and Ilya had given any more thought to when or how you wanted to announce your relationship?"
"Sorry," Shane said, shaking his head.
"Are you okay, Shane? You've been distant since you got here," Yuna asked, switching from manager back to Mom.
"Yeah… no. I don't know," Shane sighed, rubbing his hands down his face. "I'm just worried."
"About coming out?" Yuna questioned.
"No, well yes, but no, about Ilya."
"Is Ilya worried about coming out?" David asked, sounding concerned.
"No," Shane replied quickly, shaking his head again. "No, he would come out tomorrow if he could. No, he's um," Shane paused for a second, "he just hasn't been okay lately."
Both Yuna and David waited for Shane to continue.
"He's been seeing his therapist and the medication is working, but–he hasn't been great this week," Shane took a breath. "I think having the camps for the last two weeks took a toll on him. Don't get me wrong, he loves them," Shane quickly added when he saw the look of concern on Yuna's face. "I just think he's been putting on such a brave face when he's around the kids, that he's paying for it now. He doesn't want those kids to see him be not okay."
"But it's okay to not be okay though," David said gently and Shane nodded.
"I know, and he knows that too, but I think he feels that him not being okay is not something the kids should have to worry about," Shane paused before continuing, not able to look at his parents as he said the next part. "He hasn't been able to get out of bed all week."
Shane missed the look of concern that Yuna gave David across the table, but he felt the gentle hand she placed on his forearm.
"Is there anything we can do to help?" she asked, giving Shane's arm a light squeeze.
"No, I don't think so," Shane replied. "But thank you. He's been eating some of what I've brought him and he's let me help him shower, but otherwise, we've just been in bed watching TV or he's been asleep with his head in my lap. Yesterday we managed to make it out to the living room, but then he slept for three hours straight before needing to go back to bed."
"Oh honey," Yuna said, her thumb rubbing over Shane's arm where she held it.
"I'm okay," Shane said with a nod. "We've got two more weeks before I have to go back to Montreal for training camp, so if I have to spend it in bed to help Ilya to feel better, then I'm okay with that."
Shane pulled his arm free from under his Mom's hand and rubbed at his face again.
He reached to take a sip of water from his glass when his phone began to ring, Ilya's name flashing across the screen. He quickly answered and was met with nothing but sounds of things crashing as they were opened and closed followed by Ilya's frustrated grunts.
"Ilya?" Shane said as he listened to what was going on on the other end of the line.
No answer.
"Ilya?" he asked, his voice getting louder.
Still no answer.
"ILYA!?" he all but shouted down the line.
There was still no answer, but this time the line clicked and went dead.
"I need to go," Shane mumbled to himself as he quickly stood from the table, his thumb already moving quickly across his phone screen to call Ilya back.
Straight to voicemail.
"Shane?" the concern in his Mom's voice stopped him as he pulled his shoes on. He stood and turned to face his parents, he knew the look on his face was full of worry.
"It'll be okay," his Dad said, breaking the silence. "Just make sure you drive safely. Ilya knows you're on your way, just make sure you get there in one piece."
Shane just nodded as he opened the front door and made his way out to his car.
His phone finally connected to bluetooth as he pulled out of his parents driveway and he frantically pressed Ilya's contact again, hoping he'd pick up this time.
The sound of it ringing echoed throughout Shane's car as he willed for Ilya to pick up. He sat at the stop sign at the end of his parents street, his fingers tapping nervously against the steering wheel as the phone kept ringing.
He'd just pulled out on to the main road when the ringing stopped. It was silent for a second before he heard "Shane?"
"Ilya," Shane said, breathing out a sigh of relief. "Ilya, I'm on my way home. The GPS is telling me at least forty-five minutes because of traffic. What's going on?"
He tried to keep his voice calm, but he could hear more crashing in the background of the call followed by more grunts from Ilya, his frustration becoming more evident with every drawer that he slammed shut.
"Ilya!" Shane called out, raising his voice again, trying to be heard over the sounds Ilya was making.
"Shane," Ilya replied, sounding like he was speaking through gritted teeth. His accent sounded stronger than when Shane had left him only two hours ago.
"Shane," Ilya huffed again, his voice full of agitation. "Where?"
"I'm on the highway, Ilya. I'm coming. I promise I'll be there soon, baby" Shane asked, keeping his tone steady as he navigated through the traffic.
"Not you. Them. Where?" Ilya's tone was low and Shane knew it would only be a few more minutes before the last of his English slipped away, leaving only Russian.
As much as Shane had been practicing, he was not fluent enough to keep up with Ilya when he began to spiral. Even Galina was known to ask him to slow down.
"Ilya, I don't know what you mean? Who's them?"
"мои машинки для стрижки. я не могу найти свои машинки для стрижки" Ilya spat out quickly and angrily.
Shane took a breath, knowing Ilya's frustrated tone was not aimed at him.
The only word he could make out in the sentence was 'can't'.
He took another breath, trying to stop his mind from running away with 'can't', telling himself that it might not mean what he thinks it means. There were a lot of things Ilya couldn't do right now, he just hoped that carrying on was not one of them.
Shane watched as he drove passed the turnoff for Westboro. He was getting closer to Ilya's, but not nearly as fast as he would like. He was still at least thirty minutes away.
"Ilya, what can't you do?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.
He flinched as he heard Ilya suck in a breath when he used the word 'can't'. His ability to understand English was still there, just not his ability to answer in it.
"Ilya?" Shane asked again. "Baby? What can't you do?"
"найти их" Ilya replied.
"Sweetheart, you know my Russian is not that good. I'm still limited to food items and random large, household appliances," he joked, trying to lighten the mood and ease Ilya out of his distress.
It didn't work.
He could hear Ilya move into another room. From the slight echo in the background, it sounded like he was now in one of their guest bathrooms.
"Илья!" Shane called out, hoping that by using Ilya's name in his mother tongue might help.
But there was no reply.
All he could hear was Ilya continuing to open drawers and cupboards and groaning loudly in frustration.
Shane had no idea what he was doing.
"Ilya," he said again, his tone now desperate. The GPS was saying twenty-fives minutes remaining. "Ilya, baby. Please don't hurt yourself."
He hoped Ilya could hear him.
On the other end of the line, there was no sign of Ilya stopping his crusade around the house. The string of what sounded like Russian profanities kept growing, Shane guessed Ilya was getting more inventive with his expletives with every new sentence.
After another couple of minutes, Shane heard another drawer open and Ilya made a different noise.
"Ilya?" Shane asked again. Ilya still hadn't responded to anything that Shane had said, but it wasn't stopping him from trying to get through to his boyfriend.
Fuck.
Why did his Mom need to have a brand meeting with him today.
He knew he shouldn't have left Ilya with how he was.
"Ilya," Shane said again, trying not to cry, "Ilya, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I went to my parents. I should have stayed home with you. You needed me and I wasn't there," still no reply. "Ilya, please don't do anything stupid. I'm so close. I'm so close baby, just give me twenty minutes and I'll be home and I can help you with whatever you can't do. I can make it better."
For a long moment there was silence on the other end of the line.
"Ilya?" Shane asked again, hoping for any response at this point, anything to give Shane a hint that he was okay.
As the silence stretched, he could hear Ilya's heavy breathing getting closer to the phone, he'd obviously put it down and was now coming back to it.
He heard Ilya get closer, pick up the phone from the surface it was on, and then all he heard was "Fuck" before the line went dead.
"ILYA!" Shane screamed loudly at the dial tone now ringing out through the speakers in his car. "Fuck, Ilya," he cried again, working hard to keep his eyes on the road and his foot steady on the gas. He did not need to also cause an accident.
For a split second he debated calling 911, wondering whether Ilya was about to do something really stupid, but he quickly shook that idea from his head. Ilya didn't sound upset, he just sounded frustrated or maybe agitated. Like he could quite shake a feeling.
He would be home soon.
He just hoped he made the right choice by not making the call.
Fifteen minutes later and Shane was out of his car that was now parked haphazardly in the garage. He'd fix it later.
He ripped open the door that connected the garage to Ilya's entryway.
He called out, but heard nothing.
Their were no lights on and as he rushed passed the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of every drawer and cupboard open, with most of their contents strewn about the countertops and across the floor.
"Fuck, Ilya," Shane muttered to himself as he turned towards their bedroom.
He threw open the door to their master suite, and turned down the small corridor beside the closet, noticing that the bathroom light was on and visible through the gap under the door.
He held onto the handle and paused. Taking a second to breathe and prepare himself for what he might find.
As he exhaled, he heard a sob and his heart jumped into his throat, his brain telling him that at least Ilya was alive.
He turned the handle slowly, and pushed the door open gently, not wanting to smack it into Ilya.
"Ilya?" Shane said quietly into the room.
He found him.
He found Ilya on the bathroom floor in only a pair of boxers, sitting cross-legged. His shoulders were slumped and his hands were pressed into his eyes, trying to stop the tears.
Sitting on the floor beside Ilya's right knee was their pair of scissors from the kitchen, and scattered all around Ilya were small tufts of golden, blond hair.
"Oh Ilya," Shane whispered gently before moving into the bathroom and sitting down beside Ilya, placing his hand on his shoulder and pulling him into a hug.
Ilya went easily, almost falling into Shane's hold, and Shane wrapped his arms tightly around him, ignoring the feeling of cut hairs from Ilya's shoulders now brushing against his arms.
Shane brought one hand up and wiped at Ilya's cheek, swiping away the fresh tear that was about to fall.
"Hey, I'm here now. I've got you," Shane whispered into Ilya's ear. His nose was pressed against Ilya's right temple, rubbing against a combination of a piece of a long curl, and the scratch of a short patch of hair.
He pressed a kiss to the side of Ilya's head and titled his head slightly to be able to get a better look at the damage Ilya had done.
There were small clusters of curls spread across the bathroom vanity and the floor. Ilya's shoulders were covered in short pieces of cut hair, and Shane could also see strands stuck between the blades of the kitchen scissors.
He'd been meaning to replace those for the last few weeks, they had gotten so blunt.
Shane then shifted his eyes to look at Ilya.
His hair was a mess.
What used to be around three inch curls, was now a patchy disaster. A combination of the original longer strands, and spots that could not have been more than five or six millimeters long.
There was no way to hide the short spots with the remaining hair. Shane knew exactly what would be happening later.
He glanced around the bathroom again, still holding on tightly to Ilya, and saw every drawer pulled out, and every cupboard open except for one. The contents were also all over the floor. Bottles of fragrance and skin care, mixed in with a couple of hand towels and extra rolls of toilet paper, all now on the floor, some of which were also covered in hair.
Usually this amount of mess would be a huge cause of stress for Shane, but right now he could not care less.
Ilya was safe.
He might not be okay, but he wasn't hurt.
And that was all Shane could ask for.
He pulled Ilya closer into his grasp, pressing another kiss against the corner of his eye, catching a tear on his lips.
"I've got you, baby," he whispered, and Ilya let out a shuddering breath as he squeezed his eyes shut again and turned to press his forehead against Shane's shoulder.
Shane leant down and kissed the top of Ilya's head, only slightly regretting his action when a strand of cut hair got stuck to his lips. He managed to get it off without making a fuss. The last thing he wanted to do was to make Ilya feel worse.
He sat there holding Ilya for another few minutes, unsure of what to do next. He didn't want to push Ilya, but at the same time, the floor was not comfortable, especially not with a two hundred and something pound Russian sitting in his lap. He could also feel a stray curl that kept brushing and tickling against the underside of his foot whenever he shifted.
It was only another couple of minutes before Ilya moved again.
He pulled back from Shane's shoulder and wiped at his face.
Shane looked down at Ilya with a soft smile, and lifted his hand to brush back through Ilya's hair, a few cut curls catching against his fingers and falling to the floor.
"Fuck," Ilya sniffed as he leaned back in against Shane's collarbone. "Shane, I fucked up."
"Oh no, baby. You didn't," Shane quickly replied, pressing a kiss to Ilya's forehead. "You didn't fuck anything up."
"Shane," Ilya said, his tone low as he leaned back slightly to look at Shane. "Look at bathroom." Ilya waited while Shane's eyes did another sweep of the carnage. "I fucked up," he said bluntly.
Shane just smiled softly and shook his head. "There is nothing here that we can't fix, sweetheart. It won't take long to clean up."
"And me?" Ilya added quietly.
"What do you mean?" Shane asked.
"How do we clean up me?" Ilya looked at his hair sprawled across the bathroom floor, and sniffed again. "How do we fix me?"
"Oh baby," Shane said, placing a hand under Ilya's chin and bringing him in closer for a kiss. "I can clean you up as well. It's not a problem."
"How?" Ilya sounded so young and terrified. "This will not be as easy as putting toilet paper away."
"No," Shane agreed. "I will definitely put a little bit of extra care into cleaning you up."
"But my hair," Ilya added softly.
"It's nothing we can't fix," Shane replied. "I won't be able to put it back on," he continued as he picked up the curl that had been tickling his foot, "but I can help you to even it out, and then we'll just leave it to grow again."
"You make it sound so easy," Ilya said, taking the cut curl from Shane and looking at it between his fingers.
"The technical side is easy. But I think maybe the emotional side might take just a little bit more work?" Shane asked. His tone was gentle and cautious. He wanted Ilya to feel comfortable to open up without feeling like he was judging him for cutting his hair in a moment of Shane could not even begin to guess what.
"Yes, I think this too," Ilya said with a sigh, dropping the severed curl back on to the floor. "I think I am maybe not okay right now."
"And that's okay," Shane replied. "It's okay to not be okay, baby. I'm just so glad that you didn't hurt yourself."
Ilya made a noise and gestured to his head, Shane smiled and kissed him again.
"I'm glad you didn't do any permanent damage," he corrected. "I was so scared while I was driving here."
"I am sorry my love," Ilya said, leaning closer into Shane.
"It's okay. I'm just so relieved that you're alright," Shane shifted slightly, moving his leg so Ilya was now sitting between his legs rather than only half on one of them.
Shane took another few seconds before taking a breath and asking the question he had wanted to ask since he pushed open the door.
"What happened, sweetheart?"
Ilya sighed.
"I just felt yucky."
"Yucky?"
"Yes, almost like itchy. Like there was little bugs on my skin and I could not get them off."
"Oh, like your skin was crawling?" Shane asked.
"Yes, like this. I needed it to stop. I needed everything to stop. I could feel everything. My skin, my clothes, my hair. It was too much. I got my clothes off, but I cannot get my skin off—"
"So you took your hair off," Shane said, finishing Ilya's sentence.
"Yes," Ilya said with a sigh. "But I could not find my clippers, only shitty scissors from the kitchen. We need to get new one."
"I know, I was thinking about how blunt they were the other day."
"Yes, it sometimes hurt when I was cutting. My hair would get stuck and would pull."
"Is that what you were telling me in Russian?"
Ilya hummed in question.
"Your clippers," Shane answered. "Were you telling me you couldn't find your clippers?"
"Yes," Ilya said with a nod.
"I only understood the word 'can't'," Shane added. "I started to get worried as to what it was you couldn't do."
"Oh Shane, I am sorry for worrying you," Ilya said quietly, pressing a kiss to the base of Shane's neck and Shane responded by placing a kiss to Ilya's forehead.
He held Ilya for another few minutes before he shifted, pulling back from Ilya and moving to the one cupboard that was still closed. He opened the door that was the furthest from where they were sitting on the floor and reached in, right to the back, before pulling out a small black bag.
"Fuck," Ilya breathed out behind him. "The one cupboard…"
"The one cupboard you didn't open," Shane finished. "I remember putting these back here after you shaved your playoff beard a couple of months ago."
"Would have been bigger beard if Montreal didn't knock us out in the second round," Ilya grumbled.
"I'm sorry sweetheart. But if it makes you feel any better, I could remind you that I didn't win the cup either," Shane tried not to smile at Ilya's frown.
"Yes, I know Shane," Ilya smirked. "I was there to help you shave off your playoff stubble."
"Fuck off," Shane replied, pushing gently at Ilya's shoulder, who was now quietly laughing to himself. "What do you want to do now?" Shane asked, his hand coming up to tug gently at a lone curl above Ilya's ear.
"I have not looked since I sat on the floor. I am guessing it is not good?" Ilya asked quietly. His small amount of joy from before now gone.
Shane just shook his head, "I'm so sorry baby, it's not great. Do you want to look?"
Ilya shook his head. "No, I think I just want you to fix it," he whispered.
Shane nodded, pressing one last kiss to Ilya's cheek before he stood up, then extending a hand out to Ilya to pull him up.
Once he had Ilya on his feet, Shane placed his hands on Ilya's shoulders and sat him down on the edge of the tub, making sure Ilya couldn't see his reflection in the mirrors.
"Just hold tight for a second," Shane instructed. He turned back around and picked up the black bag, placing it on the vanity and opening it.
Ilya watched as Shane pulled out a couple of different guard options before looking between them and Ilya's hair, trying to work out which one would be best.
"What do you think?" Shane asked, now only holding up two options.
"What are they?" Ilya asked quietly.
"A two or a three. I think the four might still be little bit too long and won't blend some of the shorter pieces as well," Shane replied.
He watched as Ilya swallowed and opened his mouth before closing it again. Almost as if the words were there, but he couldn't get them out.
"Let's try the three first," Shane supplied. "We can always go shorter if we need to, but I think this should be okay."
Ilya nodded as Shane snapped the guard on and moved back over to Ilya.
He paused for a moment, his face full of confusion as Ilya took the clippers from his hand and placed them on the edge of the tub. But then Ilya reached for the hem of Shane's shirt, and Shane smiled softly down at him, lifting the shirt up and over his head and dropping it into the laundry basket.
Ilya reached out and placed his warm hand on Shane's back and pulled him in close, wrapping both arms around Shane and resting his forehead against his stomach. Just taking a moment to breathe.
Shane placed a hand on Ilya's head, running his fingers over the very uneven strands before he bent down and picked up he clippers.
He kept his left hand resting gently on the top of Ilya's head, and used his right to switch them on, the bathroom filled with a low hum, as he brought the clippers up to the back of Ilya's neck and began to bring them slowly up the side of his head. The few remaining curls fell away from Ilya's head, landing silently in the bath tub behind him.
Shane worked methodically, insuring he went over each pass at least twice to make sure the cut hair was evened out.
Ilya's grip around Shane's waist tightened as Shane continued to shave away more hair. Shane could feel Ilya's breath shudder against his stomach, and he dropped his left hand down to squeeze Ilya's shoulder.
He made another pass up the back of Ilya's head. The tone of the clippers growing deeper every time they cut through the longer pieces. Thankfully the #3 guard seemed to be the right choice. It was slowly starting to even out the length without taking away more than needed.
Shane watched as with every pass he made, he was taking Ilya's hair shorter than he had ever seen him have it. The hair remaining was soft under Shane's touch, his thumb rubbing slowly against the shaved hair at the base of Ilya's neck as Shane made pass after pass over Ilya's crown to make sure everything was the same length.
"I need you to turn your head for me, baby," Shane said quietly, guiding Ilya to now rest the right side of his face against his stomach.
Shane moved the clippers, now bringing them up the left side of Ilya's head, taking away the ruined curls at his temple and above his ear, before coming up to the top of his head.
More curls rained down on Shane's hand before joining the small pile that was gathering in the tub. Shane paused for a second to brush a stray curl from Ilya's shoulder.
"Is looking okay?" Ilya asked, his voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the clippers.
"Yeah, it's looking okay," Shane replied gently, turning Ilya's head so he had access to the right side now.
Ilya tightened his grip around Shane's middle and slipped his hand under the waistband of Shane's pants.
"You tryin' to feel me up, Rozanov?" Shane asked, his tone soft but full of tease. He felt Ilya huff out a laugh as his breath ghosted over the skin around Shane's belly button.
"No," Ilya replied quietly as he pressed a kiss to the skin on Shane's stomach. "Just wanted to hold you closer," he added as his arms seemed to tighten around Shane again.
"I'm nearly done," Shane said as he made another pass, this time up the right side of Ilya's head, taking off the stray curl that he hand brushed with his nose only ten minutes ago.
He felt Ilya give a small nod against his stomach, and Shane continued, only a few patches remaining to even out.
He moved his hand again, placing it on the top of Ilya's head and moving to get Ilya to lean his head back slightly.
Ilya did as he was directed to, his face now looking up at Shane, even though he kept his eyes closed.
Shane pushed his hand back from Ilya's forehead, through the last patch of long hair, before following with the clippers, making quick work of bringing the last section down to match the rest.
When that piece was finally gone, Shane took a few moments to go over Ilya's head a few more times with the clippers, just to make sure that his hair was even.
He finally switched the clippers off and placed them back on the vanity before coming back and rubbing his hands over Ilya's head, brushing off any stray clippings, and checking one last time that it was even.
"Okay, I think I'm done," he said, picking a few clippings from Ilya's shoulders and rubbing his fingers together to drop them into the tub.
Ilya took a deep breath before opening his eyes and looking up at Shane.
"Does it look okay?" he asked. Shane could hear the apprehension in his voice.
Ilya was nervous.
"More than okay," Shane replied, leaning down to press a kiss to Ilya's lips. "It's kinda hot," he said with a smirk against Ilya's mouth.
Ilya leaned forward slightly and took Shane's bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a gentle nip as he tried to hide his grin. Shane pulled back, his lip slipping from Ilya's bite, and he moved back in to press a harder kiss to Ilya's lips, taking a second to slip his tongue into Ilya's mouth. Ilya grinned into the kiss and then groaned as Shane brought a hand up and rubbed it over Ilya's head.
The short hairs felt soft and almost like velvet under Shane's hand. He scritched his nails against Ilya's scalp, and smirked again as he felt Ilya shudder under his hands.
"Shower?" Shane mumbled into Ilya's open mouth and Ilya nodded, his hand squeezing once at Shane's hip before he stood, moving to push Shane's pants and underwear down.
Shane laughed as he stepped out of his clothes and turned the shower on, watching as Ilya took his own underwear off before they both stepped under the warm spray.
The mood switched from hot and heavy to soft and gentle as Shane pushed Ilya under the water and began washing the remaining clippings from his hair. Ilya sucked in a breath as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Shane's shoulder, letting the water wash down his back, his hands coming back up to wrap around Shane.
"Hey, you okay?" Shane asked quietly, one hand moving back and forth over Ilya's head and the other rubbing across his back.
"No," Ilya said with a sniff, "But I think I am maybe a little better than before."
"Okay," Shane whispered, moving to put a couple of pumps of shampoo in his hands before working it through Ilya's shaved hair. "Is there anything else I can do to help?" he asked as he worked to wash Ilya's hair.
"I do not think so," Ilya replied, his mouth pressed against Shane's skin. "You have done so much already. Some days I try to think what I did to deserve you."
"Ilya," Shane breathed. "You don't need to do anything to deserve me. You're allowed to just have me. I'm yours okay, sweetheart. Yours forever, if you'll have me."
"Always," Ilya answered, pressing a kiss to his neck as Shane rinsed out the shampoo. "I do have one question though," Ilya said after a minute.
Shane waited.
"What do I tell people?"
Shane hummed in confusion, unsure of what Ilya meant.
"About this," Ilya said, gesturing up to his head. "I do not want people to know I had a crash down."
"Crash out," Shane quietly corrected without realising.
"Yes," Ilya said with a small laugh, "This. Crash out. What do I say?"
Shane took a moment to think before answering. "I think you can say whatever you want. I would suggest being honest with Galina though, if anyone needs to know the truth, I feel like she is top of the list." Shane felt Ilya nod against his neck. "But otherwise, you don't have to tell anyone anything if you don't want to, people get haircuts all the time, you just wanted to go way shorter this time. Or you could make something ridiculous up, like, Jane asked you to because she thought it would look hot," Shane finished with a grin, pressing a kiss to Ilya's head. "I'm sorry you can't be honest and tell your team and say it was me who thought you would look hot."
"No, Shane. Is okay. We will tell everyone when we are both ready. And I think right now, maybe I am also not ready."
"Okay," Shane whispered. "Let's work on getting ready together."
"I like the sound of this."
"And Ilya," Ilya hummed at Shane's words, "You wouldn't be lying if you told your team that Jane thought you look hot."
Ilya pulled back from Shane's neck to look at him, his eyes full of question and want. He slowly raised an eyebrow and Shane bit his lip to try to stop his grin.
"You think I look hot?" Ilya finally asked.
Shane ducked his head and broke eye contact as he nodded. He could feel his skin blushing from his collarbones up.
"Well," Ilya continued, pressing a kiss to the underside of Shane's jaw. "Even though I do not feel super great right now, I think maybe I could lie you down on our bed and give you blow job."
"Fuck, Ilya," Shane hissed as Ilya nipped at the skin he had just kissed.
"You want?" Ilya asked, leaning back to look at Shane.
"I really fucking want," Shane replied, turning off the water and hastily pulling Ilya out of the shower.
And if Ilya's freshly shaved head didn't feel fucking amazing rubbing against Shane's thighs, then Shane didn't know what else would.