Shane glanced back at the mirror. It was less intense, with the lights dimmed. “Why do you have sexy mood lighting in your gym?”
“You have it in yours.”
“Yeah. For yoga and meditation. Two things you don’t do.”
“But you do them. So I have lights that dim. For you.”
Shane’s heart wobbled. “Oh.”
“And—” Ilya returned to his position behind Shane, wrapping an arm across Shane’s chest and pulling him back to rest against Ilya’s bare torso “—is good for this.”
It was still too much for Shane. He relaxed his eyes so he couldn’t see himself too clearly, and focused on Ilya’s hand on his cock, and his solid body behind him.
Ilya released him, then pulled something from his own shorts pocket. Shane turned his head to see.
“Do you always bring lube packets to workouts?” he asked dryly.
Ilya only smiled and opened the packet. He squeezed the lube into his palm, then returned his hand to Shane’s dick. “Is a shame you don’t have foreskin,” he said.
“Why? Because if I had some you wouldn’t have to walk around with pockets full of lube?”
“Why did your parents cut it off?”
“I don’t know! It’s not like we talk about it.”
“Maybe I will ask them.”
“You’d better not!”
Ilya laughed, and kissed behind Shane’s ear. “We do not talk about these freckles on the back of your neck enough.”
“I’m not—” Shane’s breath hitched as Ilya increased the speed of his strokes. “I’m not too familiar with them.”
“They are just here. A little group of them.” Ilya’s lips brushed the base of Shane’s neck, making Shane shiver. “Adorable.”
“Oh.” Shane closed his eyes and rocked slightly into Ilya’s hand. His ass bumped against Ilya’s erection, which he was keen to do something about, but for now he was happy to let Ilya do whatever this was.
Ilya kept murmuring things in his ear as he stroked him, telling him how beautiful he was, how sexy. Some of his praise was in Russian, and Shane felt himself sink into a place where he didn’t feel quite so ridiculous being on display like this.
“Do you see,” Ilya asked, “how you look when you are gone like this? Stunning, Hollander.”
Shane opened his eyes and gasped at what he saw. He’d never seen himself like this. He’d seenIlyalike this—eyes hazy with lust, mouth slack, cheeks flushed—but never his own face. Even when they jerked off together over FaceTime Shane always closed the window that showed himself. He wondered if Ilya left his own open.
It was weird, watching himself being pleasured, but it was also hot as hell. Ilya was watching too, gaze fixed on the mirror, eyes blazing intensely.
“Ilya,” Shane said breathlessly.
“You see,” Ilya said. He gently tugged the elastic at the back of Shane’s head, and the hasty ponytail Shane had pulled his hair into for his workout fell apart. Ilya nuzzled into the long strands that now brushed the tops of Shane’s shoulders.
Shane reached one arm back, looping it around the back of Ilya’s neck. He twisted his head and caught Ilya’s mouth in a messy, urgent kiss. Ilya allowed it for a moment or two, then guided Shane’s face back to the mirror.
“You are going to watch yourself come,” Ilya said.
“Fuck,” Shane said, but nodded. He was way too far gone to do anything but watch and feel his orgasm build, hot and pulsing in his stomach, in his spine, in his balls.
Ilya pinched one of Shane’s nipples, and Shane hissed and writhed against him. “Want,” he moaned, not sure at all what he was asking for.
Ilya chuckled softly against his neck. “I know. Almost there, yes?”
