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The carpet was rough and dirty, and Shane would certainly have burns on his knees when he stood up. But he could barely register the ache when he was so focused on making sure he didn’t gag on Rozanov’s thick cock as it was hitting the back of his throat.
“Yes, Hollander, fucking take it," Ilya murmured, his voice a dark vibration that sent a shiver straight down Shane’s spine. Ilya’s thumb swiped roughly across Shane’s cheek, catching a tear that had leaked from the corner of his eye. "So desperate for me, Hollander… You'd stay down there all night if I told you to, wouldn't you?"
Shane couldn't answer. He just squeezed his eyes shut, his throat flexing as he swallowed down the length of him, a wet, sloppy sound filling the quiet room. He was utterly consumed by the task, high on the absolute lack of control, his brain happily melting into a submissive, desperate puddle.
Then, the electronic lock on the door gave a loud, sharp beep.
Shane flinched so hard he nearly bit down. His eyes blew wide, his heart violently slamming against his ribs. He tried to jerk back, his hands scrambling against Ilya’s legs to push himself away, to hide, to do anything—
Ilya’s grip turned to iron.
"Don't you dare move," Ilya growled, his hand forcing Shane’s face right back against his crotch. Shane froze, paralyzed by obedience and absolute terror as the heavy door swung open.
"Roz?"
Cliff Marlow’s voice drifted down the short hallway. The sound of a heavy duffel bag hitting the floor echoed through the suite, followed by the rustle of a jacket being taken off. "I saw the light under the door. You actually brought that blonde from the bar back here? Figured you’d be passed out or done with whoever you dragged back here by now, so I was gonna—"
Marlow stepped around the corner and stopped dead.
Shane couldn't breathe. He was trapped on his knees, his mouth slick with Ilya’s pre-cum, staring up at his rival's best friend. His face flooded with a shame so hot it felt like third-degree burns, but even through the panic, he could see the way Marlow’s eyes were locked on him. Marlow wasn't looking away in disgust; his gaze was traveling from Shane's tear-streaked face down to where his mouth was still stretched around the head of Rozanov's dick. Shane saw Marlow's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard, his face going pale.
"Roz," Marlow breathed, his voice cracking. He looked like he’d been hit in the chest with a puck. "Is that... is that Hollander?"
Shane’s heart hammered so hard it hurt. He wanted to scream, to run, to cover himself, fuck! But the way Marlow was staring at him, his pupils blown wide and a sudden bulge growing in his jeans, sent a traitorous spike of heat straight to Shane's groin.
"Marly," Ilya said lazily, not bothering to cover himself. He actually tightened his grip on Shane’s hair, tilting Shane’s face up just a fraction more to show him off. "You're early. I told you I had company tonight."
"You said— you said you were bringing a girl up," Marlow stammered, his eyes still glued to Shane. "I didn't think you meant... This. Him."
"I said I brought a whore up," Ilya corrected smoothly, the way he said it like it was just a simple, undeniable fact hitting Shane right in the gut. "There's a difference."
Marlow let out a shaking breath, his gaze raking over Shane’s naked body. He looked at Shane’s broad shoulders and the way his powerful legs were trembling. Shane was fully clothed, but the sight was even more intriguing to Marlow than total nudity. The shock in Marlow’s eyes was slowly being replaced by a hungry, predatory curiosity. He looked like he was finally seeing Shane for the first time…. and he liked what he saw.
Ilya didn't look up; instead, he leaned down and bit Shane’s sensitive neck, his teeth grazing skin until Shane let out a sharp breath. "Don't just stand there, Marly. Close the door. You’re letting the cold in."
Marlow didn't move for a heartbeat, his brain clearly short-circuiting as he looked at the Montreal captain on his knees. But then, he reached back and shoved the door shut. The click of the lock felt like a final sentence.
"You're fucking Hollander," Marlow whispered, taking a slow, shaky step closer. His eyes were dark, fixed on the wetness on Shane's lips. "The golden boy. Montreal’s fucking Patron Saint. He’s on his knees for your fucking cock.”
Ilya’s mouth split into a playful grin.
“I am,” Ilya replied, simply. He gripped the back of Shane’s head, forcing him down on his cock for two more thrusts that made Shane’s throat sore with the effort to swallow him deep. Ilya didn't look down once; he kept his eyes locked on Marly’s face before yanking Shane’s head back with a loud, wet pop.
"And he's better than any girl, Marly. He has a wonderful mouth, so eager to please. And you should see how tight his ass gets when I—”
"Stop," Shane croaked, his voice thick and wrecked. He tried to sound indignant, but it came out as a weak whimper. He looked at Marlow, his eyes pleading but his body betraying him, his own cock hardening painfully in his briefs. "Rozanov, don't. You can’t fucking say that. We can’t be here. He can’t be here”.
"Why not?" Ilya challenged, his thumb catching the spit on Shane's lip and rubbing it back into his skin. "Marly is my friend. We share everything, don’t we, Marly?”
Marly didn't answer right away. He was standing near the foot of the bed, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He looked from Rozanov’s smug, heavy-lidded expression down to Shane’s ruined face.
“You’re really doing this,” Marly said, his voice a low, rough rasp. “You’ve got Shane fucking Hollander on his knees in a shitty hotel room.”
“He likes being on his knees,” Ilya said, as he gave Shane’s hair a firm tug, forcing him to look back up at Marly. “Tell him, Hollander. Tell him how much you like it.”
Shane couldn't form a single word. He just kneeled there, his shoulders hunched, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths while his tear-streaked eyes darted desperately between the two Boston players. He felt hot, desperate, too dizzy and panicked to form a coherent thought.
Ilya didn't let the silence hang for long. He gave Shane’s hair another sharp, grounding tug, forcing his chin up until their eyes met. "What is the matter, Hollander? Lost your tongue? You were so loud a minute ago when it was just us."
Shane’s throat worked as he swallowed, his eyes darting toward Marlow. He couldn’t help it. The sight of Marlow’s jeans, stretched so tight the denim looked like it was about to give way, made Shane’s head swim. He could see the thick, heavy shape of him, the way it twitched as Marlow took another step closer.
"Look at him, Hollander," Ilya murmured, his voice dropping into a dark, suggestive purr. He used his free hand to catch Shane's jaw, turning his face toward Marlow’s groin. "Look at how hard you’ve made him just by sitting there like a good little bitch.”
A small, humiliated sound escaping escaped Shane’s lips. He looked at the bulge in Marlow's pants, then up at his face. Marlow looked intense, there was no other way to describe it. His jaw was set, his breathing heavy and uneven, his eyes burning with a look Shane had only ever seen on the ice when things were about to get violent.
“Ah, yes, I see. You need Marly to say it, don’t you, Hollander?” Ilya murmured, turning to look up at Marlow with a dark, glittering amusement in his eyes. “He loves to be told what to do. Just tell him he’s a pretty little whore for you, Marly, and he’ll suck your cock right through the denim.”
Shane squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly, but the frantic flush spreading down his neck ruined any denial.
Marlow’s breath hitched as he watched the way Shane’s hair was mussed from Ilya’s grip, his eyes tracing the path of a single tear down his cheek. The shock was still there, but it was being smothered by fascination. This was Shane Hollander and he was currently a trembling, spit-slicked mess on the floor. Marlow looked at Rozanov, seeing the challenge in his captain’s eyes, and felt his own control snap like a dry twig.
Marlow’s hand dropped to his own crotch, his large fingers curling over the heavy bulge pressing against his zipper. He stroked himself right through the rough material, a slow, deliberate friction that made Shane’s eyes snap wide.
“You a pretty whore for us, Hollander?” Marlow rasped, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a filthy need. “You gonna get down and show me how pretty you are choking on my cock?”
A slow grin spread across Ilya’s face, letting out a hum of approval at Marlow’s words. He looked at Marlow with a hooded gaze, his fingers sliding from Shane’s jaw down to his throat. His thumb pressed firmly against the frantic beat of Shane’s pulse, the smirk on his lips growing as he watched Shane’s pupils blow wide.
At the same time, Marlow took a final, slow step forward, the denim of his jeans brushing right against Shane’s nose. The heat radiating off him was overwhelming. Shane let out a shaky, shuddering breath as Marlow’s free hand reached out, his heavy, calloused fingers tangling roughly in the dark hair at the nape of Shane’s neck.
The pressure of the denim against his face made Shane’s head spin. He couldn’t help but lean into Marlow, nuzzling his face into the hard, thick shape through the jeans, inhaling the scent of Marlow’s sweat. He looked pathetic and small between them, and he fucking loved it.
“Is okay, Hollander,” Ilya murmured right against Shane’s ear. He leaned in closer, his chest pressing against Shane's back, boxing him in. “Look at you. You are practically vibrating. You like that Marly is seeing you like this, yes? You like that he wants to use you too. Is okay to want it. You are too pretty for just one of us.”
The words acted like a key turning in a lock. The last of Shane’s resistance simply evaporated. The shame was still there, beneath his skin, but the heat low in his belly was much stronger. He looked up at Marlow, seeing the way the other man was staring at him. It was not with the usual irritation or competitive fire, that look made Shane feel wanted.
“I… okay,” Shane whispered, his voice cracking but the words coming out clear. He shifted on the rough carpet, his knees dragging as he leaned just a fraction closer to Marlow’s legs. The scent of the other man was making his head spin. “I, uh, want you to stay. Please, Marlow.”
Ilya’s fingers tightened slightly in Shane's hair, a possessive but steadying grip. He looked up at Marlow, his eyes dark. “You hear him, Marly? He’s asking for you. Don't make him wait.”
Marlow let out a sound that was half-groan, half-curse. He reached down, his large, calloused hands finally making contact with Shane’s face. He cupped Shane’s cheeks, his thumbs dragging slowly across Shane’s wet bottom lip, eyes wide with a mix of wonder and pure want.
“Fuck, Hollander,” Marlow rasped. “You have no idea what you are doing to me.”
Marlow’s gaze flickered up to Ilya. He didn't let go of Shane's face, his fingers sliding into the dark hair at Shane’s temples. He looked torn, his breathing shallow. "Roz," he muttered shakily. "Can I... can I kiss him?"
Ilya’s grip on Shane’s hair tightened instinctively. For a heartbeat, his expression went cold, a sharp flash of possessiveness darkening his features. This was his Hollander. The idea of anyone else tasting the mouth he’d just been inside made a muscle in his jaw twitch.
But then he looked down at Shane.
Shane was staring at Marlow with raw vulnerability, his lips parted and glistening with spit. He looked desperate for it, his body leaning into Marlow’s touch like he was starving. Ilya felt a different kind of rush then — the power of being the one who allowed this to happen.
“Yes,” Ilya said, his voice a low, rough rumble. He relaxed his grip just enough to let Shane move. “Kiss him, Marly. Show him how much you want him.”
Marlow didn’t wait. He leaned down, his mouth crashing against Shane’s in a way that was messy and frantic. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Shane let out a muffled whimper into Marlow’s mouth, his hands coming up to grab at Marlow’s forearms to steady himself.
It was all teeth and tongue and the sound of their mouths working together. Marlow tasted like the cold air from outside and bitter beer. Shane's head was spinning, his brain turning into a puddle as he felt Marlow’s tongue swipe against his own. He felt Ilya’s hand still heavy on the back of his neck, a constant reminder that he was trapped between them, and the sensation made his own cock throb painfully in his pants.
The kiss broke with a wet snap, both of them gasping for air. Shane’s face was even more flushed now, his lips swollen and red. The contact had given him a sudden burst of courage. He looked down at Marlow’s crotch, his hands trembling as they moved from Marlow's arms to the heavy metal of his belt buckle.
“Please,” Shane breathed against Marlow’s skin. All Marlow could do was nod, still dizzy, in awe of how eager Hollander was for this.
Shane worked the buckle with clumsy, frantic fingers. The clink of the metal felt incredibly loud in the room. He popped the button and slowly, carefully, tugged the zipper down. The sound of the teeth parting made Shane’s stomach flip.
He reached inside, his palms brushing against the rough denim before he found the silk of Marlow’s boxers. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled, and then Marlow was free.
Shane’s breath hitched, his eyes blowing wide.
Marlow was big. Fucking huge. He was thick and heavy, his cockhead flushed an angry shade of red. A bead of pre-cum was already glistening at the tip. He looked up at Marlow, then back at the cock in front of his face, his mouth drying up.
“Holy shit,” Shane whispered, his fingers hovering just inches away from the skin.
“Is a lot of man, yes?” Ilya murmured, his accent thickening as he watched the way Shane’s pupils were practically swallowing his irises. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of Shane’s ear. “I know you, Hollander, you can take it. You were made for this.”
Shane’s throat moved as he swallowed, his gaze fixed on Marlow’s cock. It looked impossible, yet the heat radiating off it was calling to him, making the ache in his own belly sharpen into something unbearable.
“Go on,” Ilya prodded, his hand on Shane’s neck giving a small, encouraging squeeze. “Don't just look. Touch him. Feel how hard he is for you.”
With a hand that shook visibly, Shane finally closed the distance. His fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of Marlow’s inner thigh first, making Marlow’s breath hitch, before his palm finally slid over the thick length of him.
Shane’s fingers couldn't even meet on the other side. Shane let out a soft, broken noise, his thumb instinctively dragging over the weeping head, catching that bead of pre-cum and smearing it over the reddened skin.
“Fuck,” Marlow hissed, his head falling back as his hips gave a sharp, involuntary twitch into Shane’s hand. He looked down at Shane, his eyes hazy and dark with a desperate kind of worship. “You’re so fucking pretty, Hollander. You have no idea.”
Shane leaned forward, his nose brushing against the underside of Marlow’s cock, breathing in the salt and heat of him. He felt Ilya’s hand tighten in his hair, a silent command.
“Open up for him,” Ilya whispered. “Show Marly how much you want to be his whore tonight. Show him that pretty mouth.”
Shane didn't even hesitate. He looked up at Marlow, his eyes pleading and dark, and parted his lips. He let his tongue peek out just a fraction, licking a slow, wet stripe from the base of Marlow’s cock all the way up to the tip, tasting him, before opening wide and swallowing Marlow down.
It was an immediate struggle. Marlow was so thick that just getting the head past Shane’s lips required him to stretch his mouth uncomfortably wide. Each time he tried to take more, he was met with the reality of Marlow’s size, resulting in a series of wet, choking sounds that echoed in the room.
“Fuck,” Marly hissed, his hips twitching forward when Shane pulled off, coughing. His hands dropped to his sides, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles went white. He was breathing heavily through his nose, staring down at the spit shining on his own skin. “Jesus, Hollander. Your mouth is so fucking good.”
“Is too big for you on the first try, yes?” Ilya murmured from behind. His hand wasfirm on the back of Shane’s neck, his thumb pressing right against the base of Shane's skull. “Breathe through your nose, Hollander. Relax your jaw. You can take this, I know you can.”
Shane nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his trembling hand and leaned in again.
This time, he tried to change the angle. He tilted his chin up, letting Ilya’s hand guide his head back slightly, and opened as wide as his jaw physically allowed. He pressed his lips over the head again, forcing himself to breathe in short, controlled bursts through his nose. He slid down, millimeter by millimeter. The friction of Marly’s dry skin against Shane’s wet tongue and lips was intense.
Shane’s lips stretched to their absolute limit. He got past the head, past the first few inches, his nose inching close to the coarse hair at the base of Marly’s stomach. But the moment the thick head bumped against the back of his throat, the gag reflex hit him again, harder this time.
He choked, a wet, desperate sound tearing out of his throat. His hands flew up, his fingers digging into Marly’s thick thighs to push himself back. He came off him coughing violently, his face turning a blotchy red. Hot tears spilled over his eyelashes, tracking down his flushed cheeks as he fought to drag oxygen back into his lungs.
Marly let out a ragged, tortured groan. His knees actually buckled a fraction, his body leaning toward Shane as if he was being pulled by a magnet. “Roz, fuck. I can’t— He’s trying, but I can’t just stand here.”
“He is doing fine,” Ilya said, his voice dropping an octave, rough and commanding. His fingers dug into Shane’s hair, giving it a sharp pull to force Shane’s watery eyes back up to Marlow’s cock. “Look at what you are doing to him, Hollander. He is leaking everywhere for you. Open your throat. Do not pull away this time.”
Shane let out a rugged breath, spit shining on his chin. He wanted it. His jaw ached, his throat was burning, and his knees were stinging from the rough carpet, but the way Marlow was looking down at him made a hot spike of arousal shoot straight to his groin.
He leaned in for a third time. He opened wide, his lips sliding over the slick, pre-cum-covered head, and pushed himself forward. He took the first two inches, then the third, his throat working frantically as he tried to suppress the urge to gag. He reached the back of his throat again, and his breath hitched, his eyes squeezing shut as his body tried to reject the heavy intrusion. He let out a strangled whine, freezing in place, his hands gripping Marly’s hips tightly just to keep himself steady.
That desperate noise was exactly what broke Marly’s control.
“That’s it,” Marly growled, his voice completely wrecked.
He didn't wait for Shane to try and take another inch. Marly’s large, calloused hands came down, his fingers tangling roughly in Shane’s hair right next to Ilya’s grip. Marly clamped his hands on either side of Shane’s head, holding his skull completely still.
Shane’s eyes flew wide open in shock, his hands tightening on Marlow's thighs.
“Open up, Hollander,” Marlow ordered, his hips snapping forward in one brutal, heavy thrust.
He breached the back of Shane’s throat completely, burying himself to the hilt. Shane let out a choked, wet gasp around the thick length, his mouth entirely stuffed, his nose squashed flat against Marlow's stomach. Marlow didn't give him a second to adjust; he pulled his hips back until just the head was slicking past Shane's lips, and then slammed forward again, starting to fuck Shane’s mouth with a frantic, punishing rhythm.
Ilya let go of Shane’s neck, letting out a growl as he watched Marlow’s thick thighs flexing, watched Shane’s eyes rolling back. There was something violently arousing about watching his Hollander being used by someone else, He couldn't take his eyes off the way Marlow’s monster of a cock was disappearing into Shane’s mouth. Seeing Shane take Marlow like a seasoned puck bunny, his face flushed and eyes watering, was the hottest thing Ilya had ever seen. Ilya wrapped a large hand around his shaft, his grip tight, and immediately started stroking himself hard.
“Yes,” Ilya grunted, his voice thick and guttural, completely stripped of his usual composed teasing. He leaned forward, his chest pressing flush against Shane's back, his own hips rocking forward into Shane's rear with every pull of his hand. “Fuck his mouth, Marly. Look at how good he is for you. Take it all, Hollander. Choke on him.”
Shane couldn't answer. He was completely overwhelmed, his hands gripping Marlow’s sweaty thighs hard enough to leave bruises as Marlow piston-fucked his mouth. Tears were streaming freely down Shane's face now, mixing with the spit and pre-cum slicking his chin, but he didn't try to pull away. He took every thrust, his body trembling violently between the two of them.
But Ilya wasn't satisfied just watching anymore. He reached down, his large fingers clamping tightly around Shane’s right wrist, tearing Shane’s grip away from Marlow's thigh. He dragged Shane’s hand backward, ignoring the muffled, desperate sound Shane made around Marlow’s cock, and slammed Shane’s palm directly over his own rigid cock.
"You love this, don't you, Hollander?" Ilya murmured, his voice a low rumble vibrating right against the shell of Shane's ear. He forced Shane's fingers to curl around his length, guiding the first few strokes until Shane caught the rhythm. "You love having two men to fuck. Stuffing your mouth full and working your hand for me. So good for us."
Shane let out a messy whine around the thick length in his mouth. The praise hit him right in the gut. His hand tightened on Ilya instinctively, his knuckles turning white as he pumped him harder, his own cock aching and leaking pre-cum into his tight jeans. He was drowning in them, in the smell of salt and sweat, the harsh slap of Marlow's hips against his face, the pulse of Ilya’s cock on his hand.
Seeing Shane fall apart like that — hearing that pathetic, eager noise just from being told how good he was — snapped whatever restraint Marlow had left.
"Fuck," Marlow spat, his breathing ragged and uneven. His hips slammed forward, burying himself so deep that Shane’s nose was smashed flat against the coarse hair on his stomach. He looked down at Shane's tear-streaked face and the frantic, desperate movement of his hand behind him. "You are such a fucking whore for this, Shane. Just a pretty, filthy little whore choking on my dick."
Shane’s eyes fluttered shut, a fresh tear squeezing out. His throat worked frantically, swallowing every brutal inch Marlow gave him while his hand milked Ilya behind him. His brain felt slow, ear filled with cotton, that same high he felt every time Ilya ordered him to get on his knees, to be a good boy and take it.
Marlow cursed, his fingers tightening in Shane’s hair until it was almost painful, pulling Shane’s head back just an inch so he could see the spit-slicked mess he was making. "Jesus, Roz," Marlow panted, "We’ve shared a lot of them on the road, but fuck... none of those girls ever took it like this.”
Ilya let out a low, dark hum, his hand never slowing its heavy friction against Shane’s palm. "Is true," Ilya agreed, his voice a casual, gravelly purr that felt like a physical weight on Shane’s shoulders. “Perfect, perfect Hollander. Overachiever, yes? Perfectionist. Has to be better than any puck bunny at sucking dick.”
At the casual mention of the other women – the nameless, faceless them that Ilya and Marlow had shared – a sudden, ugly spike of jealousy twisted violently in Shane’s gut. The idea of Ilya standing exactly like this, getting his dick pumped and watching some random girl on her knees for him and Marlow, made Shane’s chest go painfully tight.
Shane’s eyes snapped up, watering and wide, locking directly onto Ilya’s face. He didn't look away, not even for a second, as he forced himself down. If Ilya wanted a perfect slut, he would get one. Shane wanted to be so loud, so fucking messy, that he’d wipe every other memory out of their heads. He sucked harder, his mouth moving in a desperate rhythm that ripped a loud, filthy moan from Marlow’s throat.
Look at me, Shane thought, his lungs burning as he shoved himself back down, eyes locked with Ilya’s. Forget the. None of them did it like this. I’m the only one you’re ever going to see when you close your eyes.
The sight of Shane — eyes wide and wild with a possessive, tearful need while he worked himself into a state of total ruin — almost sent Ilya over the edge. Marlow wasn't far behind: he was shaking, his hips snapping forward with a sudden, violent urgency that threatened to bruise Shane's throat.
"Enough," Ilya choked out, his voice raw. "Marlow, stop, fuck, if he keeps doing that, I'm going to finish in his hand. And it would be a fucking tragedy to waste all this on his hand when we haven’t had a taste of his ass.”
"I'm right there," Marlow gasped, his hands trembling as he pushed Shane's head back just enough to get him off his cock. The wet snap of the release was loud and obscene. "I'm about to fucking blow, God.”
Ilya grabbed Shane’s wrist, forcing his hand away from his own leaking cock. He looked down at Shane, who was panting, spit running down his chin, looking absolutely wrecked and triumphant all at once.
Shane’s breath was shaky as he said, “So fucking do it,” he rasped, voice destroyed after taking all of Marlow down his throat. “Are you just going to keep talking? Or are you actually going to fuck me? You’ve been running your mouth all night, Rozanov, but I’m still waiting for the part where you actually put your money where your mouth is.”
Marlow let out a short, harsh laugh that sounded more like a bark. He looked over Shane’s head at Ilya, his face flushed and his eyes wild.
"He really is a cockslut, isn't he?” Marlow breathed, a dark, stunned grin spreading across his face. “He's sitting there with his face covered in spit and he’s actually trying to provoke us into pounding his ass."
Ilya didn't answer immediately. He was looking at Shane with an intensity that felt like it was peeling the skin right off Shane’s bones. His gaze was intense and hungry, as if he wanted to devour Shane whole.
"You have seen nothing yet, Marly," Ilya replied, his voice an octave lower than normal. “Fucking nothing.”
Ilya reached down, his fingers tangling roughly in Shane’s hair to tilt his head back. He leaned in and crashed their mouths together, a bruising, desperate kiss that tasted like Marlow and salt. It was possessive and messy, Ilya’s tongue claiming every inch of him.
“Stand up, Hollander,” Ilya ordered, the command vibrating through the air. “Take your clothes off. Every bit of it.”
Shane’s legs felt like lead as he pushed himself up from the carpet. He didn't look away from them as he hooked his thumbs into the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. His skin felt overly sensitive, humming with the sudden chill of the room.
Marlow let out a low, appreciative whistle, his eyes roaming over the sharp, defined lines of Shane’s chest and the hard, corded muscle of his stomach. “God,” Marlow muttered. “I knew you were fit, but fuck... look at you. You’re built like a goddamn machine, Hollander.”
Shane’s hands were shaking as he reached for his belt, his pulse thrumming in his fingertips. He made quick work of the denim, stepping out of his jeans until he was standing there in nothing but his boxers. He was already painfully hard, his cock straining against the thin fabric, the shape of it unmistakable.
“Look at that,” Ilya murmured, his gaze dropping to the dark, wet patch blooming on the silk. “Leaking like a faucet. So hard and already making such a mess for us.”
Shane didn't wait for another command. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and pushed the boxers down to his ankles, stepping out of them until he was completely exposed. He was painfully hard, his cock pulsing with every heavy beat of his heart. A thick bead of pre-cum was already rolling down the underside of the shaft, glistening in the hotel light.
“Jesus,” Marlow breathed, his eyes wide as he took in the full, naked sight of him. “You look perfect.”
Marlow and Ilya closed in on Shane then, moving like two predators finally cornering their pray. The air between the three of them was thick, charged with an electric vibration that felt like the moment before a lightning strike. Ilya stepped in close behind Shane, his solid chest pressing against Shane’s shoulder blades, while Marlow stood directly in front, so close that the tip of his pulsing length was almost brushing against Shane’s stomach.
"Look at him, Marly," Ilya muttered, forcing his hands down Shane’s torso, tracing the defined lines of his abs. "Look at how he’s shaking just because we’re looking at him. I’ve spent months teaching this one exactly what he is. He used to be so stiff, so proper. Now he’s just a fucking slut."
Shane’s head fell back against Ilya’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut as a whimper escaped his lips. The heat of Ilya behind him and the weight of Marlow’s gaze in front of him was making his head spin. He felt Ilya’s hand drop lower, his fingers tangling in Shane’s pubic hair before his palm closed around Shane’s rigid, pulsing cock.
Marlow’s breath was coming in short, heavy hitches. He reached out, his thick fingers tracing the veins on Shane’s thigh before he moved his hand up to join Ilya’s on Shane’s cock. The friction of their combined grip, the heat of their skin, and the raw, heavy weight of their cocks pressing in from both sides had Shane’s vision blurring.
"God, he's so fucking hard," Marlow spat, his eyes dark with a desperate, carnal hunger. He looked at Ilya over Shane’s shoulder. "You really did a number on him, Roz. He looks like he’s about to explode if we don't put a cock in him right now."
"He's been waiting for this all night." Ilya’s other hand slid between Shane’s thighs, his fingers probing the tight entrance. "I’ve had him on his knees, I’ve had him gagging, but he hasn't been fucked the way he wants.”
Shane let out a broken, pathetic sob of a moan as Ilya’s finger pushed inside him, the blunt intrusion making his knees buckle. Marlow caught him, his large hands clamping onto Shane’s waist to keep him upright.
Ilya reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand without even looking, his eyes never leaving Shane’s body. He squirted a generous amount onto his fingers, the cold slickness a sharp contrast to the feverish heat radiating off Shane’s skin. He pushed his hand back between Shane’s cheeks, the lube squelching loudly in the quiet room as he buried two fingers inside. Shane let out a high sound, his fingers digging so hard into Marlow’s shoulders.
“Relax for me, Hollander,” Ilya grunted as he started to hook his fingers, stretching the muscle with relentless pressure. “You’re still so fucking tight. You need to open up if you’re going to fit Marlow’s cock.”
Marlow’s breath was a hot against Shane’s neck. He watched the friction of Ilya’s hand, watched the way Shane’s entrance gripped and stretched around the slick fingers. His own cock was rock hard, leaking a trail of pre-cum against Shane’s lower stomach.
“Look at him, Roz,” Marlow spat, his voice thick with a desperate, heavy lust. “He’s shaking like a leaf. You want a cock in there so bad, don’t you, Hollander? You’re just a fucking slut for it.”
“Tell him, Hollander,” Ilya urged, adding a third finger and pushing deeper. “Tell Marlow what a good little whore I’ve made you. Beg him to fuck that pretty ass.”
Shane’s head thrashed back, his vision blurry. it wasn't just the blunt, slick intrusion of Ilya’s fingers — he was used to the way Ilya’s hands felt, used to the way Ilya could take him apart. It was Marlow’s eyes. It was the suffocating weight of Marlow’s gaze tracking every twitch of his muscle and every wet sound of the lube that was driving him over the edge.
“Please,” Shane gasped, the word coming out as desperate as he felt. ““Please, Marlow… I can’t— just do it. I can't stand you just looking at me anymore. I want you inside me. Fuck... please just take me.”
Marlow let out a raw growl at the words, his hands sliding down to Shane’s ass to help Ilya pull him even wider. “God, I’m going to ruin you. I’m going to pump you so full of cum it’ll be leaking out of your ass for a week.”
“He loves it when you talk to him like that, Marly,” Ilya murmured, his thumb rubbing over the bundle of nerves just inside Shane’s entrance, making Shane’s knees finally give out. “He loves to know exactly what’s coming. Don't be shy. Tell him how you're going to stretch him out.”
“I’m going to split you open, Hollander,” Marlow hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped Shane’s hips. “I’m going to stretch you until you're begging for mercy, and then I'm going to give you another three inches you didn't know you could take.”
“Then do it,” Shane sobbed, his head hanging low, spit dripping from his bottom lip. “Fuck, please, Marlow. Put it in. I’m ready. Just fuck me.”
Ilya’s fingers slid out of Shane’s hole with a wet sound, leaving him twitching and slick with lube. He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive cord of Shane’s neck.
“It’s still going to burn, Hollander,” Ilya murmured. It sounded like a promise. “Marlow’s cock is a goddamn monster. But I think you want to hurt, yes?”
The breath Shane let out was shaky. His heart was slamming against his ribs, fear, and desire, and anticipation so tangled up he couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
Marlow didn't waste another second. He grabbed Shane by the waist, his fingers digging into the muscle, and hauled him toward the bed. He shoved Shane down onto the mattress, forcing him onto his hands and knees. Shane’s breath hitched as his chest hit the sheets, his ass pushed high in the air, trembling and exposed.
Marlow settled between Shane’s thighs, the heat of him overwhelming. He took his cock in one hand, lining the heavy, pulsing head up against Shane’s entrance. He didn't go slow. He pushed the tip in, the intrusion forcing a gasp out of Shane.
The sheer girth of it was a shock, Just the head was enough to make Shane’s vision go white, the muscle of his ass screaming as it was forced to accommodate Marlow’s thickness. Marlow groaned, a guttural sound, as he leaned his weight into it, his hips grinding slowly against Shane’s rear to force another inch inside;
“God,” Shane choked out, his fingers clawing at the sheets. “You’re so fucking thick— fuck, Marlow, don’t stop, fuck, fuck!”
“You’re taking it so well,” Marlow grunted, his sweat dripping onto Shane’s lower back. He withdrew slightly, then shoved back in, harder this time, the slick sound of the lube squelching between them. “Can feel your ass stretching for me, little fucking slut.”
“It hurts,” Shane sobbed, even as he pushed his hips back, chasing the very pain he was crying about. “It hurts so good. Fuck, please, just bury it. I want to feel your cock.”
Shane’s desperate, high-pitched begging was more than Ilya could stand. He moved onto the bed, crawling over the sheets until he was right in front of Shane’s face. Ilya’s cock was painfully hard, the thick length flushed an angry red. He didn't offer it gently. He grabbed Shane by the jaw and dragged the rigid shaft right across Shane’s cheek, the head leaving a wet streak of pre-cum. He slapped the heavy weight of it against Shane’s mouth the wet smacks loud and humiliating as Shane whimpered.
“Look at you,” Ilya rasped, watching with a dark, hungry intensity as Marlow slammed his hips forward again, finally burying himself deep enough that Shane let out a high, thin wail. “Getting absolutely wrecked by Marlow while you beg for more. You’re such a desperate slut, Hollander. Open your mouth. Let me see you take this while he ruins your ass.”
Shane surged forward without hesitation, his lips parting as he took Ilya in, swallowing past the thick head and sinking eagerly down the rigid shaft. The overwhelming bliss of being spitroasted hit him like a physical blow. His mouth was packed tight with Ilya's familiar, salty taste, while his ass was being destroyed by Marlow. The total sensory overload of being so completely filled, claimed and used like a dleshlight, short-circuited his brain into pure ecstasy.
Behind him, Marlow drove his hips forward with a brutal, definitive shove, his heavy balls slapping against Shane's ass as he completely bottomed out, burying his massive length so deeply that Shane felt the pressure right in his gut. Marlow let out a roar of pleasure, his rhythm finally breaking into a fast, punishing pace. He began to hammer into Shane, each thrust sending a shockwave through Shane’s body.
“Yes, that’s it, Hollander, take every inch.” Marlow’s thick fingers dug bruisingly into Shane's hips, anchoring him for the relentless pounding. “Gonna turn that ass into a fucking pussy”.
Shane let out a broken, high-pitched whimper that sounded more like a girl’s sob than a man’s groan. The heat was instantaneous, a thick, liquid fire that started at the base of his spine and flooded every nerve ending until his skin felt too tight for his body. His brain dissolved into a hazy, white-noise static.
It took him completely by surprise. Shane didn't even have a hand on his own cock, but the sheer force of Marlow bottoming out inside his pussy, combined with the thick heat of Ilya stuffing his mouth, tipped him straight over the edge.
A choked scream vibrated around Ilya’s cock as Shane’s hips locked up. Without a single touch, a thick rope of cum shot from Shane’s rigid cock, splattering hot and messy across his own stomach and the hotel sheets. He was coming — a devastating hands-free orgasm that drained every ounce of strength from his limbs. His inner walls clamped down frantically, milking Marlow’s massive cock with uncontrollable spasms.
Ilya’s eyes went wide, an electric thrill racing through him seeing Shane come untouched from Marlow’s words. He grabbed Shane’s hair even tighter, tilting his head back to look at his fucked-out face.
“Look at that,” Ilya rasped, his voice thick with a sudden, dark spike of arousal. “You came just from getting your pussy fucked, didn’t you? You like being a girl for us to share, Hollander?”
Shane let out a long, vibrating moan, his entire body humming with the force of his hands-free climax. Ilya reached down, his fingers tangling roughly in Shane’s hair to haul his head back, forcing him off.
“Yes,” Shane whimpered, high-pitched. “Yes... I’m your girl... please, fuck me like one. F-fuck my pussy.” He was completely delirious, his eyes blown out and unfocused, his pride fully dissolved.
Ilya didn't give him a second to breathe. He grunted, a dark, satisfied sound, and shoved himself back into Shane’s mouth with a brutal, single-minded force. He buried himself to the hilt, the thick head of his cock hitting the back of Shane’s throat and forcing a violent, wet gag. Shane spluttered, his eyes watering as he was forced to stretch around Ilya’s cock once again, his throat working frantically to accommodate him while Marlow continued to hammer away behind him.
“Look at this bitch, Roz,” Marlow roared, the feeling of Shane milking his cock sending his own hips into a savage, punishing overdrive. He didn't slow down for a second; he hammered the sensitive hole, forcing Shane to take every brutal thrust right through the peak of his climax. “He didn't even touch himself! Just a good little slut taking it in his pussy.”
Ilya let out a feral laugh, driving his hips forward to relentlessly fuck Shane’s throat. “He doesn't need his cock anymore, Marly,” Ilya rasped, his hand tangling brutally in Shane’s hair to hold his head in place as he pumped his mouth. “Just a wet pussy for us now. A dripping, pathetic little whore getting fucked mindless.”
Shane sobbed around Ilya, his eyes rolling back in his head as the overstimulation threatened to make him pass out. Marlow slammed into his prostate, and a final, humiliating spurt of cum forcefully left his untouched cock. Ilya’s pace became frantic, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself to the root in Shane's throat, over and over, mirroring the brutal rhythm Marlow was using on Shane’s ass.
Marlow’s breath was a series of animalistic snarls now. He was bottoming out with every stroke, the heavy, wet slap of his balls against Shane’s ass making him see stars.
“I’m gonna fucking fill it,” Marlow hissed,. “I’m gonna fill your little pussy so deep you’ll feel it in your stomach, Hollander. Fucking breed your cunt.”
He delivered three more violent, deep thrusts, his entire body tensing like a bowstring. On the final shove, Marlow buried himself to the very root, his hips locking tight against Shane’s ass. He let out a guttural roar as his first jet of hot, thick cum exploded inside Shane.
Shane’s back arched violently, a muffled scream caught in his throat as he felt the heat of Marlow’s load filling him up. Marlow didn't stop, his cock pulsing violently as he pumped wave after wave into Shane’s wrecked, twitching hole.
Ilya watched the whole thing with a predatory grin, his own rhythm reaching a terminal velocity. He could feel Shane’s throat working, the desperate swallowing as Shane tried to keep up with both of them. The sight of Marlow finally finishing inside Shane’s wrecked ass was the final trigger Ilya needed.
Ilya’s hand tightened in Shane’s hair, his knuckles white. “Marlow already filled you up,” Ilya growled, possessive. “But I’m not letting you go until I’ve marked this pretty face, too. I want everyone to see exactly whose slut you were tonight.”
With a filthy, wet sound, he pulled his cock out of Shane’s throat, the friction of the withdrawal making Shane’s jaw go slack and his tongue loll out, coated in spit.
“Look at you,” Ilya rasped. “Look at this pretty face. All flushed and ruined, just like a good little girl should be.”
Ilya’s thumb dragged over Shane’s swollen bottom lip, and then he let go, his hand moving to his own rigid, pulsing length. The first jet of hot, thick cum hit Shane right across the bridge of his nose and cheek, the heat of it making Shane flinch and whimper.
“That’s it,” Ilya groaned, his hips snapping forward as he painted Shane’s face in long, heavy ropes. “Take it like a bitch, Hollander. You look so much better like this, used up and filled with cum.”
Another thick spray hit Shane’s eyelashes, making him blink desperately through the haze of white. Ilya let out a long moan of pure bliss, his body racking with the force of his climax. He didn't stop until he’d spent every last drop, his cum marking Shane's features, dripping off his chin. Ilya’s chest was heaving, his eyes dark with the satisfaction of seeing Hollander drenched in him.
“Such a mess,” Ilya chuckled darkly, his thumb catching a glob of semen on Shane's cheek and smearing it over his lips. “Good fucking whore, Hollander.”
Behind him, Marlow let out a long, satisfied exhale. He withdrew slowly, his slick cock sliding out of Shane’s wrecked ass like a view straight out of porn. A thick mixture of lube and Marlow’s load immediately began to leak out of Shane’s open hole, dripping onto the sheets.
“Yeah,” Marlow grunted, reaching out to slap Shane’s messy ass with a wet thwack. “He’s a natural. Best puck bunny I’ve had, Roz.”
Shane finally went completely limp, his forehead resting on the damp sheets as his body finally gave out. He was trembling, his muscles twitching with the aftershocks of the overstimulation. “This was fucking insane,” he whispered, his voice a wrecked, barely audible rasp. “Shit… It was so good. Thank you.”
Ilya’s expression softened, the predatory edge giving way to a rough sort of affection. He crawled closer, pulling Shane’s shaking body against his chest, regardless of the mess between them. Marlow moved in on the other side, his large hand drawing soothing circles on the small of Shane’s back.
“Good girl,” Ilya murmured, pressing a firm kiss to the top of Shane’s head while he began to gently wipe the cum from Shane's eyes with the edge of a pillowcase. “You took it all so perfectly. Such a good, obedient little girl for us.”
Marlow let out a heavy breath, the tension draining out of his massive frame. He looked down at the two of them, a rare, genuine softness flickering in his dark eyes. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “Thanks for… letting me in on this, Roz. I didn't think it’d feel that fucking good to… Well. Fuck a guy, I guess.” He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of Shane’s jaw. “You were incredible, Shane. Really. Let me get you cleaned up, yeah?”
Marlow rolled off the bed, his footsteps heavy on the carpet as he disappeared into the bathroom. Ilya didn't move; he stayed wrapped around Shane, his chin hooked over Shane’s shoulder as he held him tight. He could feel the fine tremors still racking Shane’s limbs, the way his heart was slowly finding a steady rhythm again.
A moment later, Marlow returned with a warm, damp cloth. He knelt on the edge of the mattress, his movements surprisingly careful for a man of his size. He started with Shane’s face, tenderly wiping away the drying streaks of white from his cheeks and brow. Shane sighed into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut as the warmth hit his skin.
“There we go,” Marlow murmured, moving the cloth down to Shane’s neck and chest, cleaning up the splatters of Shane’s own release. Ilya helped, shifting Shane slightly so Marlow could reach the mess between his thighs, the two of them working in a quiet, synchronized rhythm that felt startlingly domestic after the chaos of the last hour.
Once the worst of it was gone, Marlow tossed the cloth onto the nightstand and settled back against the headboard, stretching his legs out next to them.
Marlow stayed quiet for a long beat, watching the way Ilya was still possessively petting Shane’s hair. Finally, he broke the silence, a lopsided, curious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“So,” Marlow started, his tone light but pointed. “Are you two actually going to tell me how long this has been going on?”
Ilya snorted, the amused sound vibrating through his chest against Shane’s back. Shane let out a long, dramatic sigh, burying his face deeper into the crook of Ilya’s neck.
“It’s a long story, Marly,” Ilya chuckled, his grip tightening around Shane. “And most of it is Hollander’s fault for having such a good ass.”
Shane groaned into Ilya’s skin, his voice muffled but warm. “Shut up, Rozanov. You’re the one who started it.”
Marlow just laughed, leaning back into the pillows. “Well,” he said, stretching his arms behind his head. “Start talking. I’ve got all night.”