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It starts out like a great night would. Shane pressing him against their bedroom wall, kissing alongside his jaw and his neck, it’s usually an indicator of when a good time is about to turn even better.
Except.
Today has been…off. It feels like there’s been something rotting in his brain, making it hard to think, hard to move, hard to breathe. It’s slowly taking over his body. Soon, he thinks, it’s going to spread and make him go catatonic.
He knows he sounds crazy. He’s just tired, it’s been a weird day. But he knows this kind of tired can’t be excused away by training. This one sinks all the way down to his bones and it feels like it might never go away. Ilya’s been feeling it slowly creep up, slowly get worse and worse each day. But what could he even say? And how? When can he even begin to explain this to Shane?
Definitely not now. Not when he hasn’t seen his boyfriend in two weeks, not when they’ve only got three days before he leaves again. Not when Shane’s hands roam under his shirt, clearly after something different.
So, today has been a weird day. But he can do this. He has missed Shane, Shane has missed him—a lot, if the slightly desperate way he’s tugging on his shirt is anything to go by—he can do this for them. If he manages to push through the initial exhaustion, he knows they can have a good time.
So he takes off his shirt, and switches their positions. Shane startles as his back hits the wall, but then his face breaks out into a wide grin just as Ilya grabs his face and pulls him into another kiss. He tries to shut off his brain, like he used to back when sex was just another thing he did to keep his mind occupied. When he feels Shane’s pulse underneath his lips, feels his own heartbeat starting to match it, he remembers why he used to do this so often. He remembers why it used to work.
He slips a leg between Shane’s thighs as he kisses his neck, his jaw, his collarbone, any skin he can without taking off his shirt. Despite himself, he feels the corners of his mouth tilt up a bit. Shane is hard. He moves his knee against Shane’s erection, through his sweats. He’ll be damned if his boyfriend doesn’t get at least one orgasm out of him, even if his dick hasn’t gotten the memo.
Shane starts moving his hips against his leg. This is good, he tells himself, he knows he’s not hard, but right now Shane wants him. That feels good. That is enough.
He, lazily, lets Shane do most of the work. Mostly, he just kisses him. On the lips, but he occasionally wanders out, only going as far as the neck. He moves his knee to help, but Shane is doing a good enough job of getting himself there on his own. He knows, on literally any other day, this would be hot enough to take him to the edge. It’s really a testament to how bad this whole ordeal is.
Then, before he can even process what’s happening, Shane is reaching down to touch him through his pants. He tries to stop him, tries to say something, but it’s too late.
Shane’s face drops. His pleased smile, his close-eyed sighs, all gone. His hand moves away from him like it hurts to touch him, he steps to the side, and then he puts some more steps between them. Ilya tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt, and takes a couple steps closer. Shane just backs away, until he falls in a sitting position onto the bed.
“You’re soft.” Shane says, like he’s confused. He probably is. Ilya, on a normal day, would definitely not be soft, “Do you want to stop?”
“Do you?” Ilya asks. He feels stupid he never considered it. If he gets Shane started now, he’ll certainly want to do more later. Not much they can do if his dick isn’t responding.
“That’s not–” Shane starts, but then he cuts himself off, with an almost frustrated sigh, “I was basically about to finish and you were soft.”
Oh. He steps closer to the bed, until Shane’s face is at touching distance, and then he puts his hands on it. Cradles it. He has missed him a lot. “It was good. Hot. Come on, we can continue.”
Shane frowns at him, confused, and Ilya watches his face twist in concern. Just for him. Fuck, he’s really the most ungrateful person on the planet. “It was good,” he says, “For me. Was it good for you?”
Without meaning to, he feels irritation rise up in him. Why won’t Shane just let him do this? “It’s fine, you said you were almost finished, yes?”
He doesn’t wait for a response before he drops to his knees, and starts pulling down Shane’s sweats. He’s still hard. There’s no way he’ll refuse a blowjob.
Except.
Apparently there is.
Shane pushes him. Not hard, definitely not hard enough for him to fall, but he does startle, and it does make him stumble backwards. Enough for a space that Shane can occupy to open on the floor. And that’s exactly what he does
“Now I definitely don’t want to do this,” Shane says.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, confused. Less than two minutes ago, Shane was into it. What could have changed?
Shane shakes his head, and oh my god, there’s a film of tears shining in his eyes. Something is definitely wrong, “You clearly aren’t into this, so why are you trying to keep going?”
He’s got it, he thinks, Shane feels bad. Of course, beautiful, selfless, anxious Shane feels bad for him. He probably thinks he somehow forced Ilya into this, or that he doesn’t want to do this. “I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, moving his hand to touch Shane’s knee. If he plays his cards right, sex might still be on the table. “Nothing wrong with that.”
Shane’s eyebrows raise, “You think this is doing something nice? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want,” his words sound incredulous, but there’s also clear concern showing through. That’s the last thing he wants. That’s so far from what he wants. This could not be going worse.
“Why won’t you let me do this?” he asks, trying not to sound as irritated as he feels.
Shane’s expression softens, and he cups his cheek with one hand, as he looks at him right in the eyes, “I only want to have sex if both of us are 100% into it. I don’t want you going through the motions for me.”
Ilya feels his breath hitch. And then it’s like the poison that’s been suffocating him, the pressure that’s been crushing his chest, it all bursts. And so does he.
He digs his face in Shane’s shoulder, as he completely falls apart. His boyfriend stills at the contact, “I’m sorry,” says Ilya, mostly because it feels like he has to.
It’s almost as if hearing his voice sets him into motion, because after he talks Shane’s arms wrap around him. “Don’t be sorry,” he mutters.
But he still feels like he has to explain himself. Shane is probably so fucking confused. “I’m tired, I’m really tired,” he says through his sobs, and then repeats, and repeats, “I just missed you so much.”
“It’s okay,” Shane murmurs into his hair, as he rocks them slowly, side to side. Ilya can feel Shane starting to cry too, can feel wetness begin to gather in his hair, but he doesn’t care. He keeps his face buried in Shane’s shoulder, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. God, he doesn’t know why he’s crying like this, like a baby in his boyfriend’s arms. But it feels so much better to let go. To stop holding it in. “I’ve missed you too.”
Shane holds him for a while, letting him cry it out. But then, after the worst of it subsides, he pulls away, keeping both hands on his face, “I love sex,” he starts, it almost makes him laugh, understatement of the year, “But if we never had sex again, I’d be okay. I just want to be with you.”
The lump in his throat grows in size, and he feels tears build up again in the corner of his eyes. He hides his face on Shane’s shoulder again, who this time, doesn’t hesitate before taking him into his arms. He’s too tired to sob, but he’s happy just resting there for a bit. He only untangles their limbs once he feels steadier. Once the tides inside him settle.
“You’d never have sex again?” he asks, a bit incredulously, but also just desperately looking for something to laugh at in this situation. He knows the chuckle he lets out is weak, and a bit wet with tears. Shane is gracious enough to not comment on any of those things.
“Not unless you wanted to.”
He nods. He knows Shane means it, and it does make him feel a bit better. But it’s hard to shake off the feeling that he’s not doing enough. He’s not giving enough.
“Come on, my knees are getting tired. Let’s have an early night.”
He follows him to bed, tries to ignore how much he feels like he’s still letting Shane down.
Tries to ignore the voice that sounds like his father’s calling him weak as Shane holds him until he feels like he can breathe again.