Fics like loosen up my buttons, babe (uh huh)

And so the text remains, in his phone, in his pocket, unsent and unsaid while Shane bangs his head on the elevator wall in deep contemplation of the brush of Rozanov’s lips against his, the snake of Rozanov’s tongue past his teeth. The very particular and divine experience of Rozanov’s escalation of that trademark mode of sultry suction that pushes past not only the flushed bloom of Shane’s lips but also apparently beyond all of his defenses because - Hell. Fucking absolute hell. Shane might be starting to like him. Okay, well - this is unexpected, unanticipated, entirely unplanned for - and therefore, Shane’s nipping that one down in the bud. He squares the slope of his shoulders as the elevator comes to a stop on the eighth floor, and the doors open… …to reveal a very tousled, slightly out of breath, and beautifully flushed Ilya Rozanov, as if Shane summoned him here via his own dastardly brain matter. He looks the same as when Shane left him save for the fact that he’s replaced the damp towel around his hips with a pair of slacks and the white formal shirt he’d been sporting when Shane initially walked in. The buttons on both are undone.

Fics like loosen up my buttons, babe (uh huh)

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