Countdown: A Smutty Shane and Ilya Short

This is a scene that got cut from The Long Game because I couldn’t elegantly fit it into the story. It was hard to cut because I think it’s a fun, sexy scene, but definitely, y’know. Indulgent. And a bit ridiculous.

So now it’s my holiday gift to you! Enjoy Ilya and Shane in a fun little sex scene set sometime during the Role Model season.

***

Countdown

by Rachel Reid

“What are you watching?” Shane asked from his bathroom. Ilya was lying on the bed, propped up by pillows, his laptop resting on his stomach.

“Porn,” Ilya said without glancing away from the screen.

“No you aren’t.” In the silence that followed, though, Shane heard distinct breathy moans coming from the computer. “Wait. Seriously? Why?”

“You were brushing your teeth so I knew I had, like, an hour.”

“Are you serious? How impatient are you?” Shane flailed the tongue scraper he was still holding around as he voiced his outrage. “Do you watch porn every time I leave a room?”

“No.”

No further information seemed to be coming, so Shane asked, “Why now?”

“Cliff sent it to me.”

Cliff Marlow used to be Ilya’s teammate in Boston, and he and Ilya were still friends, but Ilya didn’t mention him often. “Cliff sends you porn?”

“Not of himself. Thank god.”

“What kind of porn?”

“What kind do you think? Hot girls doing sex.”

Shane cautiously approached the bed, angling himself so he could see the screen. There was a beautiful naked woman with dark brown hair pleasuring herself.

Ilya chuckled at something.

“What?” Shane asked.

“Is cute. She is trying to count backward from one hundred before she comes.”

They both watched in silence for a moment while the woman writhed and panted between the numbers she was barely managing to speak.

“I don’t think she is going to make it,” Ilya said.

Shane frowned at the screen. “Isn’t she having an orgasm right now?”

Ilya turned and stared at Shane with an amused expression. “How were you allowed to have sex with women?”

“Whatever,” Shane grumbled, heat creeping up his neck. “As if this would even be difficult. A hundred seconds? Who can’t do that?”

Ilya snorted. “You would not count from five without blowing your load.”

“I can give you five seconds to leave my fucking house.”

“Mm.”

The woman, who had made it to the mid-thirties, swore loudly and began wailing with pleasure. And, okay, yes, Shane could see how that was different from before.

Ilya gestured toward the screen with one hand like “See? Orgasm”.

“Okay. Super. She got off,” Shane said flatly.

Ilya closed the laptop and set it on the nightstand. “Shane. Are you grumpy because I was looking at tits?”

“I’m not grumpy,” Shane said grumpily. “And I’m not bothered that you like women.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Shane sat on the edge of the bed, twisting toward Ilya. “When you watch porn, is it always women?”

“Why?”

Shane shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, you probably miss it, right?”

“What? Girls?”

“Yeah.”

Ilya’s lips curved up. “They probably miss me. But no. Not really.”

“Oh.”

Ilya wrapped an arm around him, tugging him close. “Why would I want sex with anyone else when I have someone who has improved so much at it?”

“Fuck off.”

“Great sex gets boring, you know? When you have had sex with hundreds, maybe thousands, of very skilled, very beautiful people, you maybe want something else.”

“You suck so much.”

“I have been sucked so much.”

Shane hit him in the chest with his tongue scraper.

“Aah!” Ilya yelped. “Gross. Fuck off with that thing.”

Laughing, Shane tried to brush it against Ilya’s cheek, which made Ilya grab his wrist and squeeze until Shane dropped the scraper on the floor. Then they wrestled on the bed until Shane was pinned beneath Ilya, both men grinning at each other.

“Are we about to have mediocre sex?” Shane asked dryly.

Ilya’s expression turned serious. “No one else is even close. You know this, yes?”

Shane preened a little at the praise. “Always room for improvement, though.”

“Mm,” Ilya said, dipping his head to kiss him, “let’s practice then.” 

***

Two days later, when Ilya was in a hotel room in Pittsburgh, he got a text from Shane.

Can you FaceTime?

Ilya didn’t reply. He just sent the call request. It took Shane a few seconds to answer, and when he did, Ilya got a surprise.

Shane was sitting in the armchair in his bedroom, one leg draped over one of the arms. He was wearing only black briefs, and his hand was massaging his dick through the fabric. They’d both bought folding tripods for their phones so they could get good angles for video sex. It had been a very good investment.

“Oh,” Ilya said. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Shane said. He stared directly at the camera, his gaze challenging. “One hundred.”

“What?”

“Ninety-nine.”

Ilya frowned. “Are you broken?”

“Ninety-eight.”

Then, Ilya got it, and his face split in a wide grin. “Seriously, Hollander?”

“Ninety-seven.”

“You have been thinking about this for days, haven’t you? It has been killing you.”

Shane kept counting, still staring straight ahead, face set with a grim determination that was, frankly, hilarious given what he was trying to achieve.

“You can’t resist a challenge,” Ilya said. “Competition. It makes you so horny.”

Shane just kept counting.

Ilya scooched back on his bed until he was resting against the pillows, ready to enjoy the show. “You won’t make it to fifty.”

“Eighty-nine. Fuck you yes I will. Eighty-eight.”

“Well you have to put your hand on your actual dick. This is cheating. Use lube.”

Shane slid his briefs down and off, pausing his count while he wasn’t touching himself. Because rules were important.

“Wow,” Ilya said. “You are very hard already. Did you start that way? Or have you been hard all day thinking about this?”

Shane poured lube in his hand, wrapped his fingers around his shaft, and resumed counting.

To his credit, he made it to seventy before his breath hitched. He squirmed a little, and Ilya chuckled. “Uh oh, Hollander.”

Ilya wondered if he should invent some sex challenges just to see if Shane would do them. Maybe he could convince Shane to stand on his head and sing a song while he jerked off.

By the time he hit the low sixties, Shane was punctuating each number he counted off with a little gasp or shudder. The fifties were counted through clenched teeth. His cock, as usual when he was this aroused, was steadily leaking precome.

And Ilya was hard as a rock. As much as this whole performance amused him, it was also undeniably hot watching his boyfriend struggle to control his orgasm.

“Four—” Shane stammered. “Forty-eight. Forty…fuck…nine. No. Shit. Forty-seven.”

“Good boy.”

Shane let out a strangled moan. He was keeping an even pace with his hand, stroking about double time to his counting. His balls looked like they were about to burst, smooth and tight and perfect.  Ilya wasn’t sure if he wanted Shane to make it to zero, or fall apart right now.

Ilya slid his hand into his sweatpants and gave his own dick a few strokes.

“Oh shit,” Shane gritted out. “Are you—”

“Keep counting. You are almost there. Come on. Forty-six.”

“Forty-six,” Shane repeated. “Forty-five.”

Impressively, Shane made it through the rest of the forties and the thirties, and it wasn’t until he hit twenty-eight that he said, “I can’t. Fuck. I’m not going to make it.”

“Yes you will. So close.”

Shane shakily counted two more numbers while Ilya continued to stroke himself.

“Twenty-whatever. Oh my god, shit, I’m so fucking close.”

Ilya realized with alarm that he might very well come before zero himself. And that would be way less than one hundred seconds. “Keep going,” he ordered, his own voice a bit strained.

“Twenty-five,” Shane said obediently. He straightened up a little, shoulders set, determined. “Twenty-four.”

Ilya loved him. He loved him so fucking much. The ridiculous, overly-competitive little shit had his whole heart.

Shane’s renewed control over his body was short-lived. He fumbled his way through the teens, mixing the numbers up and repeating some and Ilya couldn’t even tease him about it because he was so fucking turned on.

At eleven, things really got suspenseful. Shane was trembling and his mouth went slack and Ilya was sure it was over. He’d seen Shane come enough times to know when it was about to happen. But Shane managed to hold back enough to choke out, “Ten. Nine. Fuck fuck. Ilya.”

“Yes,” Ilya said, as steadily as he could manage. “I know. But you can do it.”

“Eight—no. Fuck. I’m coming. I’m—” the rest was a long moan that was halfway between ecstasy and frustration as Shane’s cock spurted all over his belly and chest.

Ilya yanked the waistband of his pants down enough to free his cock, then stroked it furiously until he reached his own orgasm, seconds later. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his hand to keep from yelling because Bood was in the hotel room next to him.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Shane sprawled bonelessly on the chair, legs still spread wide, arms limp at his sides. Come glistened on his skin, and his softening cock had flopped onto his thigh.

As far as Ilya was concerned, Shane always looked like a fantasy. But right now…holy fuck. He wished he was brave enough to save a screenshot. He wished he could have recorded the whole call.

“So I couldn’t help but notice,” Shane said.

“Do not start.”

“Like, I didn’t make it to zero, fair. It was harder than I thought it would be. But you.”

“Eat shit. I was not the one who said it would be easy.”

“You’re always making fun of how fast I go off, and here you are, Mr. Thirty Seconds.”

“Was forty.”

“Wow, what a stallion.”

Then they both cracked up.

“God, this was stupid,” Shane said with a sigh.

“Not stupid. Hot. I came in forty seconds, remember?”

Shane shifted in his chair, a little squirm to show how much he liked that he’d done a good job. “Yeah? It was hot?”

“Fuck, Shane. You should see yourself. I want to fucking dive into the phone and suck that dick back to life.”

They both watched as Shane’s cock gave a little twitch.

“I wish you were here too. I always wish you were with me.”

“Me too.”

They gazed at each other with sappy expressions for a moment, then Shane said, “I have to go. Hayden wants to get dinner with me.”

“You did this before meeting up with Hayden?”

“One has nothing to do with the other! And, whatever. I was horny. And I missed you.”

“Okay weirdo. I miss you too.”

“Score exactly one goal tonight. Not more than one, okay?”

“You just proved you are bad at counting, so maybe you will not notice if I score two or three.”

Shane huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Love you. See you soon.”

“Love you too. Tell Hayden you made it to eight.”

Shane rolled his eyes, and ended the call.