"So you're dating him?"
"No, that's not at all what I said," Shane said in exasperation. This was the second time Rose had asked him this question, or something similar, since they had sat down in the coffee shop twenty minutes ago. The past few weeks had been busy, between classes and Ilya occupying most of his time, and this was the first time he'd had to sit down with Rose since Valentine's day. He hadn't exactly wanted to share the details of his sex life with her over text after all.
"Shane, you're living with him, sleeping with him, and going out to do activities with him. That's dating," Rose said, speaking slowly as if she slowed her sentence down, he was more likely to agree with her.
"No, you're not understanding," he said, running a hand down his face. "He and I are on the same page, we're still faking the engagement, we're just sleeping together too. We agreed not to make it complicated."
"Oh, is that all? You agreed not to make it complicated, and it's what, simple, now?" Rose said, an eyebrow quirked upon her unamused face.
"Well, maybe not simple, but it's working, and we don't need to add labels on it that don't apply," Shane said, his mind made up and his voice level.
Rose tilted her head to the side, like a dog experiencing a new sound for the first time. "Shane…" she began, sounding less like herself and more like a disappointed mother, "have you thought about what will happen in a few months when this deal comes to an end?"
Shane paused, because yes, he had thought about the end of their engagement as it loomed ever closer. He just tried to push it out of his mind. "It'll be fine, we'll pretend to break up, and both find somewhere new to live. I've saved up a lot of money this year already, so I should be okay to find a place by myself"
Rose let out a slow breath, "And are you going to be okay when all of this ends. I'm sorry, but you don't strike me as the casual sex type, Shane. You don't think that it's going to hurt when the person you've spent every day–and night–with," she added under her breath," is suddenly gone from your life?"
"I mean, that was the agreement. I'll be fine," Shane said, but he couldn't help but notice the way his chest squeezed at the idea of not seeing Ilya every morning. He waited for Rose to respond, to push him further, but found her distracted, her body turned in her seat to wave goodbye to a couple walking out of the coffeeshop together, their hands intertwined. Shane recognized the shorter man immediately, Rose's TA, Harris, but it wasn't until his companion turned his head and Shane caught the sight of a sharp jawline and ice-blue eyes that he placed him.
Rose turned back to him, but didn't have a moment to speak before Shane blurted out, "I'm sorry, was that Harris on a date with Troy?"
"Yeah. They got together at your dinner party." Rose said, her face scrunched up as if this were old news.
"Troy, like Ilya's friend Troy?" Shane clarified, as if he hadn't seen the evidence for himself five seconds ago.
"Yes, unless he has a doppelganger on campus with the same name," Rose said, her face still scrunched up like he was the one acting crazy.
"No, because Troy was flirting with Ilya at Valentine's," Shane said, his mind still spinning over this new revelation.
"No, I can assure you. He wasn't. He couldn't take his eyes off Harris. It was blindingly obvious, Shane –are you serious –you thought he was flirting with Ilya?" Rose said, leaning forward with her mouth agape.
Shane pursed his lips and worried his hands together, "Yeah, maybe"
"Shane, I love you, you know I do, so I say this with love, but you are incredibly unobservant"
"No, I'm not," he defended.
"You are, and it's okay because you're smart and kind and everything else, but you basically have to be hit over the head with something to realize it. Case in point– Troy and Harris."
She had him there, "That was a one-time misunderstanding. I just misread some of the signs that night, I guess," he responded timidly.
Rose sat in her seat, eyebrow raised and face knowing, her coffee forgotten in front of her. "Okay, counterpoint that I haven't mentioned yet because A. you didn't ask, and B. you had a lot going on, but I've also been dating Svetlana since Valentine's"
"What..you..what"
"Yeah, it's new, but we're dating, and I really like her. We've been hanging out since you two started your little ruse, but something shifted that night."
"I didn't know that." Shane let his fingers rest on the mug in front of him, arms on the cool plastic table as he took a breath. It was loud in the coffee shop today, lots of students spending time with their friends, and a few unfamiliar professors milling about. "Shit, am I the worst friend in the world?"
"No, you've just had a lot going on, and you're not the best about reading people," Rose said with a shrug that he assumed meant he was forgiven, even if guilt radiated inside him.
"Shit," he muttered again, at a loss for words as he attempted to recontextualize every moment of Valentine's Day.
"It's okay, but Shane. I think if you've missed the signs with others, it's fair to point out that you might be missing them with Ilya too".
There was no hesitation as he asked her, "Why? Did Svetlana tell you something he's said?"
"No, you two are an off-limits topic of conversation for us, way too messy for us to get involved in. But, she didn't have to say anything for me to see the signs. Shane, faking a public engagement, explains holding hands at faculty events. It doesn't explain movie nights on your couch when nobody is watching. It doesn't explain Sunday yoga classes. It doesn't explain sleeping in the same bed every night."
He dropped his head into his hands and spoke with his face half hidden from her, "I don't know what to tell you, Rose."
"Why don't you want to date him, Shane? You like spending time with him, right?" She asked, her voice thoughtful and kind.
The din of the coffeeshop around him seemed to roar in his ears as he raised his head and responded, "Yes, of course"
"And I assume the sex is decent," she said with a conspiratorial grin.
"Best I've ever had by a mile," he conceded.
Rose took a sip of her coffee, which Shane was positive was lukewarm by now. "So why not just end the fake stuff and date him. I feel like you're making this more complicated than it has to be?"
"Because what if it all goes wrong?" Shane said, the words spilling out in a rush as the truth of it spilled free.
"All wrong?"
"Yeah, what if we start dating and then a week later he decides he doesn't want a boyfriend. Then what? I have to live with him until the end of the semester, and we can't even stand each other." He half-shuddered at the idea.
Rose furrowed her brow, "But what if it works out and you can just date and stop with all the complicated rules and guidelines"
She wasn't understanding, yet again. It was more complicated than she was making it seem. "The rules and guidelines are why it's working, Rose. There are no expectations with it, and we have an agreement. I'd rather have three more months of a convoluted plan than two weeks of dating filled with two months of agony."
"Shane," she half whispered.
"Look. I know it's stupid and probably insane, but it's working. I don't want to ruin a good thing."
"But, Shane, it's a good thing with a deadline, and it doesn't have to have one. Please just talk to him." She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, as if his love life were exhausting her. "I'm going to stop pushing it, but I think you need to have a conversation with him about what happens at the end of the semester. I don't want to see you get hurt," She said, her blue eyes finding him earnestly.
Rose's words rang through Shane's head for the rest of the day. As he sat down to dinner with Ilya that night, he could barely meet his eyes, rambling instead about his class this morning and the importance of branding in sports media. He paused in the middle of a tirade, finally meeting Ilya's eyes, "Sorry, I'm sure this is really boring."
"It's not boring, I like listening to you," Ilya said, holding eye contact with a small smile.
"Oh," Shane responded, blush creeping up his cheeks as it always did when Ilya said endearing things like this.
"But I did hear it last year." Ilya tacked on, returning to his dinner with a sidelong smirk.
Shane paused, his fork hovering in midair as his hand froze, the rest of his body following. "What, how?"
"I was at your panel last year at the New York Media Conference."
"You came to my lecture on Brand Identity in Sports Media at that conference? "
"Yes, it was very…what's the word? Riveting." Ilya said with a smile that seemed to light the room.
"It was two hours." Shade said.
Again, Ilya smiled, "A very riveting two hours"
Shane had no idea how to respond to that. How many times had he crossed paths with Ilya Rozanov in the past two years without noticing? The instances seemed to pile up.
"Wow. Are you going again this year?" Shane said, still slightly dumbfounded that Ilya had been in the audience last year. He's been on a panel for that presentation and had been so nervous about presenting that it would have been nice to know Ilya had been in the audience watching. Or possibly it would have made him all the more nervous; it's impossible to say now.
"Are you?" Ilya said, turning the question.
"I'm not sure, I'm not presenting, but it might be nice to go and support some colleagues. Scott's one of the keynote speakers this year," Shane said, and then he gave a small smile. It came to him rather suddenly that he now considered Scott a friend and not just a colleague. He'd be going to the conference to support his friend rather than to show support for his department. It was a nice change.
"I'll go if you do. We can share a hotel room," Ilya said with a flirty eyebrow raise that made Shane want to giggle. He didn't, because giggling wasn't something Shane Hollander did, but he wanted to.
"Okay," Shane agreed, letting his flushed cheeks speak for themselves.
He could have brought up the end of the semester then, followed Rose's warning, and tackled the conversation he needed to have. But the night was so nice, and Ilya was in such a good mood, and he just wanted to enjoy it. That was the problem, wasn't it? Why would he ruin a good thing by pushing Ilya on something he knew couldn't possibly work?
That night, when he pressed himself against Ilya's body, their lips colliding and hands fevered, the last thing on his mind was the end of the semester and the ever-nearing end to their agreement.
The Ashford University Silent Auction was an annual occurrence. A fancy night for the professors to rub shoulders with local business owners, alumni, and, quite frankly, rich pricks looking for a tax break due to their "charity". Shane had attended last year, but had spent the entire night talking to a woman named Ethel, who owned a small tea shop downtown. He hadn't minded keeping the older woman company as she told him no less than ten times that he was as handsome as her grandson and that he'd find a nice wife soon. At least it kept him from small talk with anyone worse.
Tonight, stuffed into a tuxedo that he hated the material of, he was not as lucky. Ilya had their hands joined and pulled him around the room like he was showing him off. It was a little surprising how many people Ilya seemed to know in the room, introducing Shane to a handful of donors and alumni by name, like they were his personal friends.
As they stepped away from the third Richard that he'd met tonight, Shane turned to his date, "How is it that you know everyone here?"
"Well, darling, first off, they are wearing name tags," Ilya said, his head leaning close so he could whisper his response into Shane's ear.
"Yes, but you seem to actually know them"
"Secondly, I met a good handful last year at this event, and the rest were listed in the "Notable Attendees" section of the Ashford newsletter this week," Ilya said with a coy smile.
"You read the Ashford newsletter?"
"Not regularly, it's boring, like you. But I read it this week, so I could look knowledgeable when meeting everyone. I, for one, like my department to be fully funded, and these are the people who help make that happen," Ilya explained calmly, like it was common knowledge and not some convoluted plan to get donations for Russian Literature.
"You're very sexy when you're scheming," Shane admitted with a flush as Ilya led him to one of the auction tables.
"Of course I am," Ilya agreed, glancing down at the items in front of them.
The entire room was lined with tables for the silent auction, like a trade show, but with baskets of artisan jams and gift cards for a round of free mini golf. The table that Shane and Ilya found themselves in front of was lined with items donated by local businesses. Shane immediately recognized a pyramid of Ethel's teas at the end of the table and scanned the room for the kind woman. There was an assortment of jams, honey, candles, and handmade art. Shane was immediately drawn to a stained-glass panel depicting a single loon sitting in the water. Ilya joined him at his side.
"It's beautiful"
"Yeah, it reminds me of summers growing up. There are a lot of loons at my parents' cottage," Shane said appreciatively, still taking in the deep greens and shifting blues of the glass.
"You should put a bid on it. We could put it in the kitchen window; it would be lovely there" Ilya said, his eyes still taking in the panel.
Shane glanced down at the bidding sheet and was shocked to see only a few bids, far less expensive than he'd been expecting. He placed a bid on the sheet and smiled at Ilya, who was still staring at the glass.
"The red eyes are a little freaky," Ilya said as they walked away from the table.
"Scardy cat," Shane teased.
"So mean to me," Ilay said with mock offense, raising a hand to his chest.
"Oh, I think you'll be okay," Shane said, shaking his head at Ilya's overdramatic antics even as a smile stayed plastered across his face.
"Maybe, but gimme kiss anyway, just to make sure I forgive you," Ilya requested with a satisfied smirk as Shane leaned over and brought their lips together in a chaste kiss.
There was no longer any hesitation on Shane's part; kissing Ilya had become routine for him. He no longer hoarded the moments their lips touched, not knowing when the next time would happen. As he turned to the rest of the tables, lacing his fingers through Ilya's, Shane saw Roger Crowell watching him out of the corner of his eye and realized there was nothing different he should be doing on his behalf. He had no impulse to make loud declarations of love or share showy kisses with his fake fiancée, but just carried on, his hand guiding Ilya, knowing they appeared as real as any other pair there tonight.
Ilya paused at one of the more densely packed tables, where crowds of people surveyed the various baskets, each themed around a different weekend vacation. A weekend in a beach bungalow in Rhode Island, in a cooler filled with beach towels, sunscreen, and sunglasses. A wicker basket filled with a container of maple syrup, binoculars, and a guide to fall foliage for a "romantic getaway in Stowe, Vermont". A metal bucket filled with a single life vest, a bottle of Dramamine, and a box of fishing lures, hinting at a deep-sea fishing trip off the coast of Massachusetts.
Ilya walked to the Vermont basket and began reading over the card listing the details. Shane read from his side, the weekend featured lodging in a small cabin, a guided tour of the best leaf "peeping" spots in Stowe, and a couples massage at a local spa. It looked like a great trip, but unfortunately, it was at the end of October.
Ilya must not have noticed the date, because he had already picked up the pen and started writing his details on the bind sheet.
"It's in October," Shane said, interrupting his writing.
"Yeah," Ilya said, turning to face Shane with a curious expression.
"We'll be broken up by then," Shane explained, even as Ilya continued to write.
"Excuse me?" Ilya's pen paused for a moment, lingering on the a in the middle of his last name.
"The trip. We'll be broken up by then." Shane clarified, refusing to meet Ilya's eyes and begging his voice not to waver. Did this count as talking to Ilya about the end of their arrangement? It felt like it did, and yet, he knew Rose would not be happy about it.
Ilya finished filling out the sheet in silence for a few agonizing moments and then turned to Shane, his voice dropping to an icy whisper. "Who says it's for me and you?"
"What?"
"Maybe I'll have someone else to spend a romantic weekend with in October, "Ilya bit out, his eyes so much colder than they'd been at the start of the night.
"Oh," Shane said, words not forming properly in his head.
Ilya didn't bother trying to dull the hurt his words caused; they fell into silence that stretched until a gentle hand tapped Shane on the shoulder, and he spun around.
"I thought that was you, Professor Hollander," Ethel said with a bright smile as he glanced up at Shane. "And who is your handsome friend?"
Shabne paused for a moment, glancing at Ilya. There's a fine line when it comes to dealing with people in their eighties and above. He didn't want to lie to them, but there were times when telling the truth led to more conflict than necessary. Still, he swallowed his fears. "This is Ilya, my fiancé."
If Ethel was surprised, she didn't show it; instead, she swept Ilya into a hug that he had to bend down to receive, and held him close as if he were a beloved family member rather than a man she had met three seconds ago. She pulled back and left a bewildered Ilya in her wake, "I knew you'd find someone just as handsome as you, honey," Ethel said, reaching up to touch Shane's cheek.
Shane slid his hand around Ilya's waist and pulled him to his side as Ethel told Ilya all about her tea shop and how business had been the past year. Ilya fell into easy conversation with her, asking which teas sold best and what his personal favorites were. Shane watched him as Ilya charmed Ethel with his natural charisma, and the tension from earlier dissipated into the air.
By the time Ethel wandered off in search of more bacon-wrapped dates, Ilya and Shane were touching and laughing again, their earlier fight forgotten in lieu of conversation with those around them and laughing over some of the more ridiculous auction items.
They found Scott and Kip at one of the most expensive tables, eyeing different week-long vacation packages. Both men were dressed in clean-cut tuxedos, shoulder to shoulder as they inspected the cards on the table.
"Honeymoon shopping?" Ilya said from over Scott's shoulder as he attempted to peer around him at the card.
Scott turned, and a smile instantly graced his face at the sight of Ilya and Shane, "Rozanov, I didn't realize they let you out of the coffin for events," he joked.
"Hunter, it sure was nice of Kip to sign you out of the nursing home tonight. Do you have to be back before they do the nighttime meds?"
Shane was a little lost in the dynamic between the two, just as he always was. Ilya seemed to really like Scott and spoke kindly about him, but whenever they saw him in public, Ilya felt the need to insult Scott, and Scott liked to return the favor. If it were Troy, Shane would have been jealous of the interaction, but Scott always looked at Kip as if he were the only man in the world, so he let it happen.
"They're always like this," Kips said, rolling his eyes, "Good to see you, Shane"
"You too, Kip. What vacation are you looking at?" Shane said, leaving Scott and Ilya to their odd back-and-forth insults.
Kips handed the info card to Shane, and he looked it over. It was a week-long trip to Spain with airfare included.
"Wow, very nice," he said appreciatively.
Kip smiled and nodded, "That's what I thought, but Scott said he wants to go somewhere 'colder' "
"Anywhere in particular, or is he just being difficult?" Shane asked, turning slightly to see Ilya in deep conversation with Scott, and thought about the very similar argument he and Ilya would get into.
"Difficult, I think," Kip said. "I'm going to bid on Spain, and I'm sure he'll have no complaints when we're there." He began filling out the bid sheet, and Shane felt a warm hand on his shoulder, Ilya pulling him close.
Scott eyed Kip filling out the form and shrugged, like he'd never expected anything else, "Have you two thought about where you want to honeymoon?" he asked, glancing between Shane and Ilya.
Shane's throat felt dry all of a sudden. They were used to deflecting questions about the wedding, but the honeymoon felt different. A wedding was a huge milestone; it involved so much planning and money, and Shane had never really had a vision for his own. But a honeymoon, that he could picture. Ilya on a beach in Greece, maybe? Suntanned and sipping on cocktails by the water. Possibly perusing a museum in Rome or hiking in Iceland. He couldn't really think of any place that wouldn't be wonderful with Ilya by his side.
"Let us plan the wedding before we get to the honeymoon, Scott," Ilya gibed, but his joking smile didn't reach the rest of his face, and the hand on Shane's shoulder tightened ever so slightly, as if he didn't want to let go.
"Okay, okay," Scott said, raising his hands in defeat, "Shane, Ilya said you two might be coming to ICON?"
"ICON?"
"The international conference on Narrative and Communication," Scott said, as if it were obvious.
"Oh, right, sorry, I've never heard anyone call it that. We usually just refer to it as the New York Media Conference," Shane said with a slight laugh.
"No, I'm pretty sure people are using ICON," Scott said, a little quieter this time.
Kip stepped in, "Scott is the only person I've ever heard call it that," he said.
"Traitor," Scott accused. "Anyway, name notwithstanding, you two should definitely come. I'm doing a keynote there, and I promise to buy you each one full price New York cocktail"
"Wow, what an offer," Ilya said under his breath, and he received an elbow to the ribs from Shane.
"We'll be there, any excuse to get a free cocktail and see some great lectures on narrative and communication," Shane said, adopting a very formal tone as he joked with Scott over the name.
At the end of the night, Shane and Ilya left with both the stained-glass loon and the trip to Vermont they wouldn't be together for. The basket and tissue-wrapped stained glass sat in the backseat on their drive home, like painful reminders that their time together was running out.
When they entered the apartment, Shane went straight to the kitchen, unwrapped his newly won art, and placed it in the kitchen window where it fit perfectly. He hesitated for a moment as he held it up in the dark window, wondering if it was even worth hanging up properly when he'd just be taking it down in two months.
He could feel Ilya watching him over his shoulder as he perched the panel in the window temporarily and stepped back to appreciate it, even without sunlight shining through.
"It looks good there," Ilya said softly.
"Yeah, it does. I'll need to buy some hooks for it if we want to hang it up there," Shane said, still keeping his eyes on the window, unwilling to turn around and face whatever expression Ilya was giving him.
"Yeah, we can go to the hardware store tomorrow," Ilya said, and Shane finally risked a glance at him.
He leaned against the counter, his Vermont gift basket perched at the end, like an hourglass reminding him that time on this deal was running out.
"We should probably buy spackle too, it seems a little silly to put holes in the wall when we're going to move out in a few months"
It was a cowardly way to approach the conversation, Shane knew that, but he'd brought it up, and that had to count for something.
"Well, not necessarily," Ilya said.
"What do you mean? The semester ends in a month and a half, and that's when we agreed this would end." Shane said tentatively.
Ilya lolled his head back and, for a moment, seemed to be thinking about an idea. "Our lease ends in August. Technically, we don't have to move out the moment classes end."
Shane's stomach dipped."What?"
Ilya shrugged. "We signed a lease through the summer. It would be strange to announce a breakup the same day final grades are due."
A laugh escaped Shane before he could stop it. "That would be a little suspicious, I guess"
"Very suspicious," Ilya said with a conspiratorial smile.
Shane stared down at his hands. "I guess I just assumed..."
"We don't have to rush," Ilya said. "I'm okay to keep this going as long as you want. It hasn't exactly been an inconvenience for me".
"Not for me either," Shane said quickly. "That's actually a good point, for the story, it makes more sense if we broke up in the summer"
"Right."
"A random breakup in August is much more believable."
"Sure, if that's what works for you," Ilya agreed.
Shane's eyes drifted toward the Vermont basket still sitting on the counter. The brochure advertising autumn foliage peeked over the edge, bright reds and oranges splashed across the glossy paper.
October. He looked away.
Shane woke as he did most mornings now, tangled in Ilya's sheets, with Ilya's arms banded around him and a thigh tucked between his own. This morning did differ from most mornings, however, because for the first time since they'd started sleeping together, Ilya was all over him. Ilya was clearly wide awake, his hand sliding down to cup Shane through his pajama bottoms, his lips and teeth hot against Shane's neck. He'd thought perhaps Ilya didn't like initiating sex, and that was why he never did it, but today that concern was gone.
"Good morning to you," Shane slurred, his eyes already closed as he luxuriated in Ilya's touch and the pressure of Ilya's lips on his skin.
"You're finally awake," Ilya whispered against his skin, nipping it lightly, "I've been so desperate for you to wake up so I can fuck you properly"
"You could have woken me up," Shane said, grinding his ass against the hard outline of Ilya's cock that was pressing against him.
Ilya's hand ran down his erection, still on the outside of his pants, but his touch was hard and wanting. "Clearly, I did," he said.
Ilya's hand moved away from his cock, and Shane had to hold back a whimper of disappointment as Ilya's hand instead moved to his thigh and hiked it up, grinding against his ass.
Shane was lost to sensation, Ilya's hand gripping his thigh and his mouth sucking at his neck in a move he knew would leave him with a hickey. He'd have to wear a turtleneck for the next few days like an idiot, but he'd worry about that later.
Ilya seemed rushed for a moment, pushing down the waistband of Shane's pajamas and briefs below it, and shoving at the fabric in a clear demand for Shane to remove it, and quickly.
Shane complied, rather gracelessly shimmying out of his pants and pulling off his shirt for good measure. It wasn't his most seductive display, but it left him naked in bed with Ilya, and that was always worth it. The moment he was naked, his clothes cast aside, Ilya was pushing him on his back and climbing atop him, his lips desperate on Shane's own.
Shane could live a thousand lifetimes, and he would never tire of kissing Ilya Rozanov. There was a lot of uncertainty on the horizon of their arrangement. But he knew for sure that by the end of the summer, he would most certainly miss kissing Ilya. Ilya knew when to press harder and when to pull back. He knew how to use his tongue to coax out moans from Shane's throat and how to use his hands to position Shane's head exactly the way he wanted. Fuck Russian Literature, Ilya should be teaching lessons on this.
No, he takes that back. No one else should get to know how Ilya Rozanov kisses; that's for him alone. Or at least, it's for him alone for the next four months, he reminded himself. Fuck.
Ilya kissed as a man possessed, his hands wild and lips frantic. There was something untamed in him this morning that Shane didn't stop to overanalyze; he just met him with the same desperate intensity. Ilya's hands pulled Shane's thighs up, and Shane wrapped them around Ilya's waist. Ilya ran his teeth down Shane's neck, and Shane ran his nails down Ilya's back. Ilya brought his hand to Shane's mouth, and Shane sucked two of Ilya's fingers into his mouth. Push and pull with the same cadence, the moon and the ocean.
Ilya removed his fingers from Shane's lips with a lewd pop, bringing his hand to his own mouth and spitting into it. Shane watched in fascination as Ilya then dragged the spit-slicked hand down Shane's side until he lost sight of the hand and instead felt the press of Ilya's wet finger between his cheeks.
Shane let his head tilt backward on the pillow. "Fuck, Ilya."
His only response was the press of Ilya's finger against his hole, the fingertip sliding inside. Ilya took his time fucking his fingers into him slowly, one by one, knuckle by knuckle, until Shane was a panting, moaning mess, his own cock leaking and heavy between them. Ilya's frantic movements from earlier had slowed as he'd suddenly realized he had more time than he'd originally thought.
"Ilya, please," Shane said when Ilya had him stretched around three fingers, sweat on his brow, and his spine arching off the bed. Ilya simply smirked and continued to play with him, stroking against his prostate and kissing him senseless. It was only when Shane was sure he was going to come from the treatment that Ilya finally pulled back with a smirk.
"Get on all fours, facing the headboard," Ilya instructed, and Shane was in no shape to argue. He turned himself over, getting into a tabletop position that their Sunday yoga teacher would call textbook.
There was some shuffling in Ilya's bedside table and the sound of a cap opening. Then Ilya knelt behind him and ran a hand down the length of his spine, muttering "perfect" under his breath in a raspy voice Shane only heard during sex. Ilya brought that hand to Shane's left hip, which he squeezed appreciatively. Then Shane felt the press of Ilya's cock against him, slick with lube. Ilya pushed inside slowly, not because he needed to; he had ensured Shane was ready for him, but Shane suspected he did it slowly just to torture them both.
Once he was fully seated, his hips flush against Shane's, he gave a slow thrust that had both of them gasping. Then another, until Ilya fell into a slow, deep rhythm that Shane would describe as maddening. Or possibly as sensational. Most likely, he'd say it was a mix of both.
Ilya was not gentle with him; he never was. Shane would describe Ilya as thorough. Every movement he made elicited a reaction, and every reaction brought forth a new movement. When Shane tried to press back against Ilya, Ilya's fingers dug into his hips in a bruising grip to hold him steady, and his strokes slowed. When Shane begged for more, Ilya would increase his pace or press deeper, but only slightly, just enough to drive Shane to beg again.
Ilya's rhythm stuttered slightly as he thrust, one hand coming up to lace in Shane's hair and tilt his head back.
"Fuck Shane, so fucking good. Where do you want me to come?"
Shane's head was completely blank, his mouth unable to form words, just as his mind was unable to form a coherent thought. He believed he finally understood the meaning of "fucked into submission".
Ilya gave another hard thrust that had Shane crying out around him, his hands clenched into the sheets even as they began to slip off the sides of the mattress, useless to hold himself in place properly. He moved them for the headboard and moaned as the slight upward motion changed the angle.
"Can't answer?" Ilya said, his thrusts still deep and confident even as his words sounded forced, as if he were breathless from the effort of holding back. "That's okay; I'll pick what I want to do with you".
Shane moaned in what he hoped was understood as confirmation. He'd be happy with anything Ilya did with him right now.
"Maybe I'll pull out and come on your pert fucking ass," Ilya said, pulling a hand away from Shane's hair for a moment to deliver a light smack across his backside. He then ran a soothing hand over the burn and whispered, "So fucking perfect".
Shane bit his lip to keep the embarrassing sounds from going any further. He was no longer grasping for words, but the ones that came to mind were again, or harder please, and he was not quite ready to debase himself like that. So he kept his mouth closed; the only thing spilling free were whimpers and moans.
"I could flip you over-" Ilya said, and Shane could practically hear the smirk in his voice, "-I could come all over your hard cock without even touching you, and I bet that would finish you off. I know how desperate you get for it."
Shane couldn't help the moan that slipped free this time but was grateful his face was hidden from Ilya's direct view. It didn't matter anyway; he knew Ilya could feel the way his words landed, the way Shane's body clenched around him at the filthy words he said.
"Fuck I bet you're leaking all over my sheets right now, like the desperate slut you are. Is it killing you to not touch your cock, or do you just love being deprived?"
"Ilya," Shane said, and he wasn't sure if he was asking or begging for something.
Ilya's rhythm of thrust remained unfaltered, but Shane felt the slightest press of his fingers on his hips, the only sign that he was struggling with his control.
"I know Shane. I know what you need, and I'm going to give it to you." Ilya's pace quickened, and his hand came around the front of Shane's body, gripping his cock and giving him hard, merciless strokes. "I think I'm going to come deep inside you, and then I can spend the rest of the day with you knowing that my come is dripping out of you. Mine"
If Ilya's fast strokes over Shane's aching cock hadn't done it, his words certainly did. Shane moaned as he came over Ilya's fist, leaking onto the sheets below him. Ilya's hips gave one final, punishing thrust before Ilya sank his nails into Shane's hips, grunting Shane's name and filling him with his release.
Ilya pulled back, slowly pulling himself out before flopping on his back next to Shane on the bed, where he'd sunk onto his stomach. They lay on the bed in silence for a moment before Ilya leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Shane's shoulder and whispered, "Come on, let's shower, and then we can hit the farmers market"
Shane groaned. Typically, he'd love the invitation to go to the farmer's market, but at present, his mind was quiet and his body felt positively boneless. Ilya seemed to understand this and gave a slight laugh, and suddenly he was hefted into Ilya's strong arms and carried to the shower.
It was a perfect afternoon. Like he had drawn up an ideal Saturday in his mind, and Ilya had transformed it into reality. It was warm outside for early April on the East Coast, with the first crocuses popping up along downtown walkways and the forsythia budding yellow like the sun. Typically, there was a small farmers' market in the small downtown area on Saturday afternoons. Today, it appeared they were hosting the annual "Goldenbells Festival," with the entire downtown park filled with vendors selling their wares, food trucks lining the street, and a stage featuring a live band.
Ilya held his hand as they navigated the line of food trucks, then selected a taco truck and ordered a variety that the two of them agreed to share. They took their tacos on the go as soon as they received them, cradling the flimsy cardboard container and attempting to eat birria tacos as they perused the booths without getting anything on their crisp white t-shirts they'd donned for the day. It was a harder challenge than he'd expected.
Ilya had selected better tacos than Shane had. After sharing two bites with Shane, who eyed the barbacoa tacos mournfully, Ilya had shaken his head and swapped their containers. "The puppy eyes are not fair," he said with a light elbow against his side.
"I am not giving you puppy eyes," Shane defended. Still, Ilya just returned his defense with an accusatory eyebrow raise, and Shane let the fight go as he enjoyed the rest of Ilya's tacos gleefully. Ilya, to his credit, happily ate what Shane had ordered, watching Shane attempt to dunk his own food in the consommé without spilling any, with a slight, awestruck smile, as if it were something special to behold and not just Shane eating.
Once the taco containers were discarded and Shane had a chance to wash his hands, they began to wander among the various booths set up in the park. There were a few overlapping vendors from the silent auction that he recognized, but thank god, no October vacations to be seen. The booths featured various vendors selling food, treats, art, and jewelry.
Shane and Ilya went to every booth, Shane looking closely at the art and Ilya easily talking to the sellers about what they made. Ilya ended up with a bag of local honey from two different booths, which he promised Shane they would taste-test to see "who had better bees". Shane filled a paper bag at one of the farm stands with a bundle of fresh basil, tomatoes that must have been from a greenhouse, with how ripe they were in April, and instructions on how to get to a booth further into the park that had a wonderful balsamic vinegar to make Caprese salad with.
The artisan vinegar booth was in sight when Ilya paused to look at one of the many jewelry booths that were set up. Thus far, they'd skipped the jewelry; Ilya only ever wore his cross necklace, which he'd told Shane had been his mother's, and Shane was not wearing anything. Ilya was looking at a display of rings on the far side of the booth, all tucked into a red velvet display case.
The rings were lovely, a rippling wave of gold and silver in the sunlight, each with its own engravings along the side. Ilya turned to the vendor, "Are these all handmade?"
The man minding the booth nodded. "All made personally by my daughter Jane," he said with a proud smile. She's gone to get some food, but she can answer any questions when she gets back.
Ilya reached out and ran his hand along one of the gold rings, with abstract patterns intertwined across it. "They're beautiful," he told the man, who smiled again.
Shane watched as Ilya inspected more of the rings, noting the way his eyes especially took in the gold ones, a bit like a dragon coveting treasure.
"I never did get you an engagement ring, " Shane said from over his shoulder, and Ilya froze in place.
Shane couldn't see his facial expression as Ilya responded, "No, but I just stopped to look; I wasn't trying to hint at anything".
Shane took a step forward so he stood side by side with Ilya, reaching out to pull free a pair of rings nestled together in the velvet. One silver and one gold. He placed the silver on his ring finger, a perfect fit, and tilted his hand back and forth to let the metal glint in the sun, alighting the details of the moon that had been carved into it. He placed the golden counterpart in Ilya's hand: "Try it on"
Ilya's motion was slightly shaky as he tried on the golden ring adorned with engravings of the sun, sliding it easily onto his finger. Shane smiled and turned to the seller, "We'll take these two"
"Shane, you don't have to," Ilya said, already moving to pull the ring off.
"No, my fiancé should have a ring," Shane said, enjoying the way the ring looked on Ilya's finger. A mark upon him that he was taken. At least until August. A temporary lease. So they walked from the booth with their rings on, and Shane tried to ignore how right it felt to wear his own.
"You're going to buy yourself an engagement ring too," Ilya said, eyeing Shane's hand.
"I'm buying myself a ring; I don't think there's any rule that says it's an engagement ring." Shane smiled, "Unless you want to get on a knee and propose?" Shane said with a quirk of his eyebrows.
Ilya rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe someday," he said.
They did end up buying some balsamic vinegar from the stand the farmstand had recommended. This put them very close to the stage where a band was playing a cover of some song that was distantly familiar, but Shane couldn't quite place. Some soft rock song from the seventies if he had to guess, he looked out at the lawn in front of the stage, where kids were running around in a spirited game of tag, parents sat in tailgate chairs sharing craft beers, and various couples sat on picnic blankets, snacking on meals from the food trucks or just enjoying the music and the first tastes of spring the weather provided.
Shane was close to heading back to the car with Ilya when a shout from one of the picnic blankets called out to them, "Ilya!"
Ilya turned to the blanket, and Shane spotted Troy and Harris lounging there, smiles on their faces as they sat on the blanket. Harris raised a hand and beckoned them over. Ilya gave a quick glance at Shane, checking if he wanted to go over, and Shane nodded as they walked to join the couple.
They sat down on the large blanket with Harris and Troy, and Shane felt like a moron for not seeing it before. The two men were smiling at each other, their fingers intertwined and resting easily on the blanket. He couldn't believe he'd ever assumed Troy had been after Ilya when he looked so completely at ease with Harris by his side.
"Hey, you two," Troy said excitedly once they were settled. "How great is this festival?" His eyes were warm and his smile bright.
"Yeah, it's great," Shane agreed, "we were just coming from the farmers market; we didn't even know this was happening."
"A nice surprise," Ilya said, placing a warm hand on Shane's thigh.
"It's amazing; they do one in the fall too that my family sells apples at, but I secretly love the spring one the most. Way more fun to attend than to man the booth." Harris said, gesturing around him, then glancing at Shane and Ilya's bags, "Ooo, what did you two buy? I think you can really judge a guy on what he gets at a local festival"
Shane gave a half-snort and said, "Well, judge away," opening his bag and showing Harris the tomatoes, basil, and balsamic vinegar inside.
Harris let out a hum like he was contemplating, "Very nice selection, farm fresh goods, and artisan vinegar. I bet you're a taurus," he said.
Shane pulled back, surprised. "How the fuck did you discern that from me buying ingredients for caprese salad?" he said in amazement.
Troy and Harris both burst out laughing, and Ilyas gave a small knowing smile. "I'm fucking with you," Harris admitted. "Ilya mentioned your birthday was next month, and I couldn't resist," Harris said, holding back another laugh.
Shane shook his head good-naturedly. "Shit, you got me," he said, shaking his head.
Ilya offered his own bag to Harris, "Okay, Harris, you do mine now, with no inside info."
Harris looked at the two jars of honey inside: "I would say you have a terrible sweet tooth."
"True," Ilya agreed, pulling his bag back, but not before Troy reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand from retreating.
"Did you run off and get married?" he asked in amazement, glancing between Ilya's ring and Shane's and Ilya's faces.
"No," Shane immediately answered, his face turning strawberry and his words stuttering out, "we just got them today"
Ilya pulled Shane closer, looping an arm around his waist. "No, Hollander hasn't made an honest man out of me yet, but he did finally buy me an engagement ring, so I can't complain too much," Ilya said, pressing a kiss to Shane's forehead.
Troy dropped Ilya's hand and gestured for Shane to raise his own hand to show off his ring. "They're very nice," he said, "I would have thought Rozanov was more of a gaudy diamond kind of guy, but what the hell do I know?"
"Shut your face, Troy, Shane knows what I like," he said, a sly smile gracing his face as he gave Shane a wink that turned his insides liquid.
They stayed with Troy and Harris until the end of the band's set, enjoying the mid-afternoon sunshine and the general excitement that came with the first day over 50 degrees in months. They fell into easy conversation with the two men, and Shane enjoyed the soft songs the band sang in the background, as well as the laughter of the strangers around him.
As Troy and Harris packed up their blanket and Shane and Ilya gathered their purchases, Ilya reached for Shane and kissed him. It wasn't a salacious kiss like they'd shared that morning, or even a particularly lingering one. Just a small moment where Ilya pulled their mouths together, like kissing Shane had become as natural as breathing.
Shane barely had time to enjoy it before Ilya was pulling back with a grin. "Couldn't resist," he said.
Shane couldn't help returning the smile, warmth blooming in his cheeks as he glanced around the lawn. The crowd bustled around them, everyone far too wrapped up in their own conversations and laughter to notice two men stealing a kiss in the middle of the festival. Even Troy and Harris were busy rolling up their blanket, oblivious. It felt impossibly private for something that happened in the middle of a crowd.
Shane leaned in and kissed him again, just as brief, just as gentle. "I also couldn't resist," he murmured against Ilya's lips before stepping back to say goodbye to Troy and Harris.
They could have ended the day there, and it would have been one of the best days of Shane's life, but to top it all off, they stopped by the movie theatre in town and bought spur-of-the-moment tickets for the latest action movie. It wasn't something Shane would typically go and see, but Ilya loved anything with fast cars and explosions, and sometimes Shane liked to humor him. So he sat in the dark theater for the next two hours, his tomatoes, basil, and fancy vinegar at his feet, watching car chases and gunfights, and couldn't help but catch Ilya's glowing smile out of the corner of his eye.
As they left the theater two hours later, bags still in hand, the sun was sinking low in the sky, and Ilya paused at a poster on the side of the building. "Look, they're having a whole movie marathon at the drive-in, Spielberg's greatest hits. That could be fun. "
Shane looked over and scanned the poster advertising the event. "Shit, it's April 11th, that's during spring break," Shane said, turning away from the poster and continuing towards the car.
"Yeah, that's perfect, we can stay out late without worrying about our classes the next day," Ilya said with a smile as he caught up to Shane and threw a heavy arm around his shoulders, pulling him tight against his body.
"No, I mean I'll be in Ottawa for spring break," Shane said, and Ilya stopped in his tracks. They were only ten feet away from the car, close enough that Shane could close the distance and climb in, but instead, he turned to Ilya's confused face.
"I didn't know you were going to Ottawa for spring break?"
"Yeah, I'm going to see my parents for the week," Shane said, looking at the car even though Ilya seemed rooted to the ground.
"Were you planning on telling me, or were you just going to disappear for the week?"
"I guess I forgot, sorry."
"Yeah, it's fine. It's just something a good fiancé would know, right? No, actually, a good fiancé would be going with you, but I guess that's out of the question.
Shabne let out a slight laugh at the absurdity of introducing Ilya to his parents, and Ilya's face looked angrier than he expected. "Well, it's not like I can bring you home exactly, my parents don't know about any of this."
"About the engagement?" Ilya asked, his voice confused.
"Well, obviously, the engagement. But really, any of it, they know I have a roommate, but I don't think I've ever mentioned your name," Shane explained, continuing to walk toward the car.
"You haven't mentioned me to your parents?" came Ilya's reply over his shoulder.
Shane paused and turned to where Ilya was standing still on the path a few paces away. "No, trust me, that would be a whole thing with them. It's not an easy thing to explain, it's not like you're my boyfriend."
"No, clearly I'm not," Ilya bit out, his face stony and his eyes darting to his hand for just a moment before meeting Shane's again.
"Why are you so pissed off about this? Trust me, you're not missing much with a week in Canada with Yuna and David. It'll be a boring week," Shane said. Ilya really was underestimating how much time Sahne would spend that week doing puzzles. His parents were rather uneventful people.
"I'm sure, my boring fiancé and his boring family," Ilya said bitterly.
"I'm sorry I forgot to tell you," Shane said, moving closer to the car, uncomfortable to be having this spat in the middle of a public parking lot.
Ilya was silent as he unlocked the car and climbed into the driver's seat. His face was pinched, and his lips pursed, as if he were holding back words he didn't want Shane to hear.
"What is with you?" Shane complained from the passenger side.
"I think it's fucked up that you haven't mentioned me to your parents," Ilya ground out, the words sounding lethal.
"Sorry, I don't want to give my parents a run-down of the guy I'm fucking"
Silence greeted that sentence, Ilya's eyes focused solely on the road, the only sounds the tires on the road and Ilya's harsh breaths. "Is that what I am? The guy you're fucking?"
"Technically, yes. I guess I could tell them you're my roommate, but I don't think that quite encapsulates it all"
"You can tell your parents about me without telling them we're hooking up, you know. Do they know about Rose?"
"Rose is my friend," Shane said, shrugging his shoulders and furrowing his brow.
"Do they?"
"Yes, of course."
"Am I not your friend, Shane? Or am I just the guy you're fucking?" Ilya said, each word holding its own edge.
"I don't-, this is-" Shane trailed off, completely unsure how such a perfect day had been thrown so completely off track. "You're my fake fiancée, that's all we ever discussed."
"Right," Ilya said, the word leaving his mouth in a sharp hiss.
The car fell silent for the rest of the trip back to the apartment, Ilya not bothering to put on music and Shane not willing to break the silence to do so. They pulled into the parking lot, and Ilya parked, turned off the car, and left Shane sitting in the passenger seat without looking over his shoulder as he unlocked their apartment and headed inside.
Shane followed, a minute behind Ilya's hasty exit, gathering both their bags from the backseat, his thoughts tumultuous as he tried to find where it all went wrong. When he entered the apartment, he noticed that Ilya had only bothered to turn on the kitchen light, where he now stood by the fridge, a glass tumbler in his hand, a splash of vodka inside.
Shane waited for Ilya to say something, but Ilya just leaned against the counter with cold eyes, sipping his drink. So Shane gave up on waiting, "Seriously, what is going on? I don't understand why you're so pissed about me visiting my parents."
Ilya shook his head like he couldn't believe Shane would dare to ask him this. "Fuck Hollander, every time I think we're making one step forward, you take two back. It's exhausting!" Ilya said, his voice a nasty mix of anger and hurt, and Shane took a step back.
Shane tilted his head back and heaved an exhausted sigh, "You're being deliberately obtuse."
Ilya threw his hands in the air. "Who the fuck talks like that, Hollander? Sometimes I wonder why I even…" he trailed off, then began again. "It means every time I think we're becoming..." He cut himself off again, batting the rest of the sentence away. "Every time I think we're better than strangers or roommates, you remind me this is just an arrangement to you."
"It is an arrangement," Shane said. He stopped and tried to circle back to what had started the whole argument. "It's an arrangement, but we're friends too. I can tell my parents that we're friends if you want."
"Fuck, you really don't get it, do you?" Ilya said, and then returned to his room and shut his door softly.
Shane almost wished he'd had the anger to slam it, instead of this quiet rage that Ilya had left with. He stood, reeling in the kitchen, and wondered what he had broken today and if he could ever fix it.
The week that followed their argument in the kitchen wasn't at all what Shane expected. He'd been ready for anger from Ilya. More fighting and yelling, slamming doors, and vicious words, but that certainly wasn't the case. Instead of anger, he'd expected avoidance. He'd been prepared for Ilya to avoid him at every juncture, steering clear of their routines and only spending time at the apartment to eat and sleep. That was certainly the route Shane would have taken, but again, it was not what Ilya chose.
The morning after their big fight in the kitchen, Ilya simply stood in the kitchen at their usual time and said good morning before they left to go to the gym together. It was, to put a word to it, unnerving. It was like they'd moved back in time before Valentine's. Ilya was friendly, pleasant but more reserved than he'd been since they'd started sleeping together. He didn't leave Shane any opportunities to kiss him, and he never initiated anything. Yet, every time they left the apartment, Ilya wore his new gold ring, and Shane did the same with his own.
He was being…a model roommate, just as he'd promised so long ago. It didn't take long for Shane to become desperate for a reaction from Ilya, something that showed he was bothered by the change between them as much as Shane was, but he gave nothing away.
They still watched movies together, but now Ilya sat far on the other side of the couch, the space between them filled with tension. They still cooked together, but Ilya gave him a wide berth in the kitchen, no longer casually touching him as he passed him. Shane began to realize how quickly he'd taken their intimacy for granted. Not just the sex, but everything else. He found himself waiting after class to see if Ilya would pick him up to walk to the cafe on campus. He didn't. He found himself waiting for a kiss at the end of the night or before he headed to class in the morning. None came. He began to get used to disappointment, and then would berate himself for being disappointed. Ilya was just staying true to the arrangement after all. Apparently, it was Shane who had unrealistic expectations.
"I'm heading to the airport, my Uber is here," Shane said. "With his suitcase in hand, Shane walked behind Ilya on the couch on his way to the door."
"Your Uber?"
"Yeah, he's outside," Shane held up his phone to show the Uber app, like he needed to provide evidence to Ilya.
"Why didn't you ask me to drive you?" Ilya said, standing up fully and looking at Shane with a confused, half-angry expression. Shane was almost elated to finally get a reaction out of Ilya, but the timing was poor when he was literally on his way out the door.
"It's no big deal, I just didn't want to bother you," he said, gripping the handle of his bag tighter.
"You didn't want to bother me," Ilya repeated, slowly, as if the words didn't fit together properly.
"Yeah, it's just. It's nothing. I'll see you in a week," Shane said and slipped out the door, closing it with a soft click behind him. It was cold out, beautiful blue skies, and grass just starting to recover from a tough winter, but a chilly wind was racing through the campus. He placed his suitcase in Lily's Toyota RAV4 and sat in the backseat.
Lily was, unfortunately, a chatty Uber driver, and Shane was, to a fault, polite. So he spent the entire drive to the small airport locked in conversation with her about what it's like to drive for Uber and his plans in Ottawa. By the time the ride was over, he almost wished he had asked Ilya to take him, but that wasn't something roommates were supposed to do.
Two hours later, he sat on a too-small airplane seat, staring out the window as the clouds rolled by. He watched Connecticut fade away beneath the clouds as they climbed higher into the sky, and he grew further and further away from Ilya. He worried his hands together, nothing to do with flying, and everything to do with the unease that had settled in his gut a week ago and now was a continuous presence. He stared down at his hand and looked at the silver ring he wore on his left hand, wondering why he'd brought it when he wasn't pretending on this trip, and simultaneously refusing to remove it. He wondered if Ilya was wearing his own ring; he hadn't looked when he left. Why hadn't he looked?
Notes:
QOTC: How are you doing emotionally? Are you coping with the miscommunication and heartbreak?
Mandatory, thank you all for reading. It truly makes my heart so happy to see your comments on this fic and your reactions on Reddit, TikTok, and Discord (possibly elsewhere, but not that I've seen yet). I can only hope that the smut made up for the annoyance of the last chapter and the pain of this chapter. You may have noticed fewer errors in this chapter, and that is thanks to lghutch, who beta read this one. Everyone say thank you to them.
Behind-the-scenes look: I really like sharing my thought process for these chapters, and I hope some of you find it interesting. First of all, the Goldenbells Festival was a real festival in Connecticut that my grandfather started in 1970 to celebrate spring. I thought it would be fun to include it, even if it felt a little similar to the silent auction last chapter (sorry about the back-to-back of artisan booth chapters - but also not sorry, please support local artists when you get the chance)
Second of all, and this is one that I'm really sorry for. I did not originally plan on having the rings be part of this chapter. I was mulling over the things sold at this art festival and thought, "and jewelry," then audibly said, "Oh shit," when I realized what I had to include. I'm sorry for the additional gut punch I'm sure this caused.
Next week on ASIM: Does distance make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything worse? Shane is going to find out as he spends spring break with his parents while Ilya remains on campus.
(let me know if you like the recap at the start and preview at the end. I have seen a few people asking for this in general with WIP fics and I'm happy to do so if it's helpful)
Notes: