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The sun was pouring in from the windows, and Ilya was golden in the morning light, all hard lines and smooth shadows. His curls were a little rumpled from the flight. His face was soft, open. He looked smug, and a little expectant, and he settled easily onto the couch when Shane pushed him down.
It had been over three days since he’d been properly fucked, if they were keeping count. Now, Shane looked at him and wanted, a sharp, twisting thing.
“I have a surprise for you,” he said, swinging a leg over Ilya and sitting down on his lap.
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