Heated Rivalry

Ilya responded by gripping both of Shane’s wrists and pinning them to the mattress.

“Oh,” Shane gasped. He shamelessly tipped his head back to give Ilya better access to his throat. Ilya took advantage of his generous offer by sucking the sensitive spot just under the hinge of Shane’s jaw.

Ilya was going to leave a mark—a hickey—if he kept sucking at Shane’s neck, but Shane realized that it didn’t matter. For the first time ever, they didn’t have to worry about evidence. About anything. No one would ever know what happened here.

Let’s be honest with each other. For these two weeks, let’s just...say what we’re actually thinking. Maybe...say how we really feel.”

I can’t, Ilya wanted to say. I can’t because if I do you’ll think I’m pathetic, or, worse, you’ll say it back and then what the fuck are we supposed to do?

“I will try,” he said instead.

Fuck,” Shane panted. “I’m...it’s been kind of a while... I might not last long.”

“Yes. Same. But we have two weeks, right?”

Shane laughed. “Right.” Then, “Wait...same?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘same.’ You haven’t...been with anyone? Lately?”

Ilya grimaced. He probably shouldn’t have admitted that. But...

“No.”

“Like, not since—?”

“No. Not since. Can we please get back to—?”

“Really?” Shane pulled back so he could look Ilya directly in the eyes. He looked stunned and way, way too happy.

“Is not a big deal, Hollander. Relax.”

“It’s been, like—”

“Months. Yes. Which is why I would really like to—”

“I haven’t either,” Shane said quickly. “Not since the last time we were together. In Boston.”

“Well then...” Ilya said, moving his hand to continue to work his way into Shane’s pants. But Shane didn’t go back to grinding his hips or attacking Ilya’s mouth with filthy desperate kisses. Instead, he reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair out of Ilya’s face. Ilya could only stare, mesmerized, at Shane’s face as he looked down at him with so much...tenderness.