“Yep.”
With a playful little grin, Ilya flipped the photo so it lay facedown. “Do not want to shock them,” he said. Shane laughed.
Ilya moved to the bed and sat on the end of it. Shane sat beside him. “It’s kind of surreal. Having you here.”
“Yes. Bad or good?”
“Good,” Shane said quickly. He took Ilya’s hand and squeezed. “Really good.”
“Good.” Then, without warning, Ilya turned and pounced on him, pushing him down on his back on the mattress. Shane didn’t have time to be surprised before Ilya’s mouth was on his.
Shane moaned helplessly and arched his body against Ilya’s. He wrapped a leg around Ilya’s thighs and pulled him closer.
The kiss felt weird, and Shane realized it was because neither of them could stop smiling.
“You’re here,” he murmured.
“Yes. Now take off your clothes.”
Shane laughed and quickly removed his clothing. He fired each garment in the general direction of his laundry hamper, then sprawled out on his back and watched Ilya peel his own shirt off.
Ilya slid a hand down his own bare chest, like a stripper. He paused at the button on his shorts, and raised an eyebrow at Shane.
“What’s this Magic Mike shit?” Shane asked, grinning.
Ilya responded by pushing both hands into his own hair and tilting his head back dramatically. He thrust his crotch out, and Shane cracked up.
“Here, let me help you.” He crawled on his knees on the bed until he could press his mouth against Ilya’s stomach. He licked along the lines of Ilya’s muscles, and he heard Ilya let out a shaky breath.
“Don’t tease me,” Ilya said. “I have waited too long for this.”
“Mm.” Shane opened the front of Ilya’s shorts and playfully nipped at his chest. “Months.”
“Years,” Ilya sighed. “Years I have wanted to have you in your real bed.”
Shane froze. “Years?”
Ilya wrapped long fingers around Shane’s jaw, and tilted his head up to meet his gaze.
“Yes.”
Shane swallowed. “Get those shorts off,” he managed to scrape out.
Ilya had barely slipped the last of his clothing off before Shane reached for him. He needed to feel his weight on him. He needed to kiss him and touch him and feel him grow hard against him (although it looked like he was a little late for that).
Ilya was here, and Shane would finally know what it was like to be with him when they had all the time they wanted. Ilya had promised him two weeks, and Shane was giddy with the vastness of time that was spread before him.
Ilya kissed him, slowly and greedily. His erection brushed against Shane’s belly, and Shane wriggled against it to give Ilya as much friction as possible. 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—ahickey—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.
“Harder,” Shane said. “I want to see it later.”
Ilya growled and pressed his mouth harder to Shane’s skin. He sucked hard enough that, for a hysterical second, Shane wondered if he might actually be a vampire.
Are there Russian vampires?
