Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Zane Boodram

Additional Tags:

Winner's Room (Hockey RPF), Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Blow Jobs, Voyeurism, Semi-Public Sex, Kind Of, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship

Language:

English

Collections:

Fandom Trumps Hate 2024

Stats:

Published: 2024-07-09 Words: 3,023 Chapters: 1/1

No Rest For The Winner

Summary

After another devastating loss for the Ottawa Centaurs, Shane chooses Ilya as the forfeit for the winner's room. Which would be fine if it weren’t for Ottawa's policy that everyone, even the captain, has to be supervised to make sure nothing gets out of hand.

Notes

For cricketnationrise - thank you so much for taking part in FTH and bidding on me! I hope you'll enjoy the fic I've written for you!

“Fuck,” Ilya muttered, slamming down his gear in front of his stall. He should be used to losing by now; the Ottawa Centaurs were still at the bottom of the league, despite Ilya’s best efforts. He hated it nevertheless.

Even more so when it was against Shane and his horrible team. Montreal Voyageurs, what a stupid name even was that? Where were they meant to travel? To the bottom of the league? Ilya wished. Hope died last, or whatever they say. But Shane and his teammates had come out on top of a scrappy game once more, no matter how stupid their name was and how much Ilya wished it were otherwise.

At least Shane had won the first star and would get to choose the forfeit for the winner’s room. Ilya usually didn’t mind too much being chosen by opposing players, it came with being the elite player he was on a losing team, it came with being foreign and better and, to no small extent, it came with his big mouth. It was fine, most of the time. But he really wouldn’t have been in the mood to endure Hayden fucking Pyke for another half hour. Or rather fifteen minutes, he doubted Hayden knew what stamina was.

“You alright?” Bood, his alternate captain, asked, frowning from down the hall.

“I fucking hate losing,” Ilya muttered, briefly considering skipping the shower and just waiting for Harris to show up and announce his next shift. Would serve Shane right, having to deal with his sweaty, gross self.

Ilya exhaled forcefully and shook his head. He was being unfair. Shane wasn’t a sore winner, he usually didn’t rub it in. Not when Ilya didn’t push him, something Ilya admittedly loved to do.

“You came to the wrong team, man.”

Ilya snorted at that. He’d known how shit Ottawa was before he signed here when he had hit free agency in July, but he hadn’t known how shit it felt to lose over and over again. The team was great, off the ice. On the ice they just couldn’t get their feet under them and fucking win.

“With that attitude for sure,” Ilya bit out and vanished under the shower, scrubbing off the grim of the game. The hot water felt good, soothing the ache in his muscles. He shuddered when he turned it to ice cold, which was even better for them and the lingering bruises, old and new alike. He liked to soak in a tub with ice water after a game, but today he didn’t have the time.

“Ilya,” Harris greeted him the moment he stepped out of the shower, his towel riding low on his hips. “You’ve been tapped.”

“You good to go?” Bood asked, the frown still there, or there again. “We can tell them-“

“No,” Ilya was quick to interrupt. Like hell would he let anyone else take his place, take his place with his Shane. It wasn’t the best to meet like this, in a sterile room on a questionable mattress that sizzled with each movement of the waterproof plastic underlay, but it was nothing he would let anyone else take. Not with Shane.

He hated the idea of him in the room, more than he hated the idea of himself in one. He’d always been free with his sexual favors, took pleasure where he could. Shane had always been different, and yet Ilya knew that Shane shouldered the responsibility of the room like the good captain he was. Fucking Canadians, always nice, polite and good.

“I’m good to go. It’s just Hollander,” Ilya added with a smile, which he hoped was reassuring. As much as he liked Ottawa’s policy on winner’s rooms – that no forfeit was going into a room alone but was always accompanied by the captain to make sure nothing got out of hand – he really didn’t want it now.

“I’ll come with you,” Bood said, already dressed.

“There’s no need. I’m the captain, and as I said. It’s just Shane. We’re friends now, remember? And he’s a good Canadian, he wouldn’t do-“

“It’s often the quiet ones,” Bood interjected. “And real friends don’t tap each other for the room. You wouldn’t let anyone of us go alone, and I certainly will not let you go alone.”

Ilya sighed, rubbing tiredly over his face. He nodded, before slipping in heather grey sweats and a ratty, white shirt. He didn’t bother with underwear. There was nothing he could say to change Bood’s mind, and usually Ilya appreciated it. There had been guys on other teams who had taken a little too much joy of putting Ilya in his place, who’d not only been rough but outright cruel in his time in Boston. Ottawa’s policy was as good as it could get without rebelling against the room completely.

For a short moment Ilya pictured Bood’s face when he told him that it really was fine, that he’d come here to Ottawa to be near Shane, that he and Shane were dating. He shook his head. He couldn’t. Shane would not want that, and Ilya wasn’t fully ready either, even though his new team would cope with it pretty well, Ilya was sure of that.

“All right. I’m ready.” Ilya followed Harris and Bood out of the room, ignoring the looks of his teammates. He didn’t want pity. He didn’t need pity, not with Shane waiting for him. He still didn’t know how to feel about meeting Shane like this. Even though their relationship was shaped by hockey, the winner’s room felt like too much hockey. 

Shane was already waiting for him in the room. He was standing with his back towards the room, his black hair curling softly at the tips in its post-shower state. The moment the door clicked shut Shane swirled around, a smile already playing around his lips. Despite the smile Shane looked tired and paler than usual.

Ilya inhaled audibly. Even though he should be, he wasn’t quite ready for the darkness of Shane's eyes, his distractingly flawless skin and those fucking freckles. God Ilya wanted to go over, pull Shane against him and kiss him until all tension was gone, his cheeks were flushed and his lips red and swollen.

Behind Ilya Bood interpreted his inhale differently. Ilya felt his teammate tense and step instinctively closer.

“What’s he doing here?” Shane asked, the initial smile wiped off his face and replaced by a frown.

“I’m here to watch,” Bood said, crossing his arms over his chest. “To make sure you play by the rules. No one goes into a room unsupervised in Ottawa, and I really don’t care how you handle things with your team.”

Shane flushed at the implication.

“Is really fine,” Ilya tried once more, turning towards Bood, “I’ve got this. You can wait in the locker room, it’ll be fine”

“No,” Bood said, “I’ll stay.” He squinted at Ilya suspiciously. “What’s going on here, Roz? You’ve never had an issue with our policy.”

“Because it’s a good one. Just… Fine.” Ilya let out a huff. “But don’t say you haven’t been warned.”

“I don’t want him here.” Shane’s eyes were fixed on Ilya, his pupils wider than usual.

“Tough luck, I’m staying. The sooner you two get started, the sooner we’re all out.”

“Come on, Hollander,” Ilya practically purred, smirking at Shane. He would prefer to be alone too, but there was also something about seeing Shane so flustered. He wasn’t quite sure if it had more to do with the prospect of being watched or because of Bood insinuating that Shane might not play by the rules.

Ilya stepped in front of Shane and hooked a finger through his belt loop to tuck him close. “You’ve heard the man. He wants a show. He wants to watch.”

“Ilya,” Shane gasped incredulously, but he let Ilya pull him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Bood muttered, but Ilya ignored him. His focus was on Shane now, the way his brows furrowed and begged to be kissed. It’s been too fucking long. Even though they lived closer than ever, their schedules often didn’t match the way he would have liked them to, leaving long stretches of time where all they could do was text or call.

Ilya took Shane’s face into his hands and gave in to the temptation. He kissed his brows, kissed his freckles for good measure and then he kissed Shane full on the mouth, the only thing really taboo in the room. You could fuck a guy raw but kissing was a whole other story. And Ilya agreed. Kissing was too intimate, kissing wasn’t for the room, but it was for Shane.

For a split second Ilya thought Shane wouldn’t kiss back, but then he made a sound, a quiet groan in the back of this throat, and opened his mouth to let Ilya in.

“Missed this. Missed you,” Ilya whispered against Shane’s lips, not caring if Bood was listening, not caring if he knew. He was tired of keeping everything to himself, to be able to talk about him and Shane only with Shane’s people.

“Me too,” Shane said, his eyes darting briefly to the corner where Bood stood. “I didn’t think it would be like this, though. Can’t you make him leave? You’re his captain.”

“Oh you want me to abuse my powers?” Ilya’s eyes were glinting at the idea. “I like the sound of that. But rules are rules, Hollander.”

“And it’s a good one. I don’t want to argue,” Shane argued, “but-“

Ilya interrupted him with another kiss. “No buts. I know how much you like to follow rules.” Ilya gave Shane’s ass a squeeze before he ground against him, stifling his own groan when their cocks brushed against each other.

“Besides I know you’ll like this,” Ilya teased when their kiss broke, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Does it turn you on? Being on display like this? Being seen like this? Oh I think it does. I can feel it.” Ilya smirked and circled his hips, giving both of them more of the friction they craved. He could already feel Shane hardening against him, and he didn’t bother to hide his smugness.

“Ilya,” Shane hissed, shoving at his chest but Ilya wasn’t budging. He slung his arm around Shane’s waist and pulled him against him, burying his nose in Shane’s neck, inhaling deeply.

“I really missed you,” he said again, not able to help himself. “It’s been so long.”

Ilya heard his teammate behind him shuffle. He didn’t care. He snuck a hand between them, relishing the gasp Shane failed to swallow when he started to palm him through his dress pants.

“Guess you missed me too,” Ilya grinned, biting lightly into Shane’s neck while thumbing over Shane’s cock. Ilya could feel the complete outline of it, huge and hard against his fingers. He wanted to take it out. Wanted to have it in his mouth. He wanted to undress Shane and take him apart, preferably not on this cheap, shitty bed and without a spectator, but Ilya had always been good at dealing the hand life’s been given him.

“Ilya, I can’t,” Shane gasped, but despite his words, he didn’t pull back, his entire body trembling with the effort to not grind shamelessly against Ilya.

Ilya dragged his mouth along Shane’s jaw, biting lightly when he reached the soft flesh of his throat. Shane’s moan in responds made his own cock twitch.

“Oh I think you can. I know you can. You know you would look so pretty, laid out on the bed, spread wide and taking me.”

“Please,” Shane said, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Ilya wanted to take it between his own and pull.

“Please what, Shane?” Ilya felt breathless. He knew he could push Shane to his limits and maybe beyond, and there was something absolutely heady about it. Shane was this perfect Canadian boy with the perfect family, perfect rings and trophies in his show case, he always had the perfect words spoken in his stupid perfect accent, but Ilya could undo all of that. Only Ilya held that power and it was intoxicating.

“Please don’t make me.” Shane looked up at Ilya from under his long dark lashes, his eyes so dark they almost looked black.

Ilya cupped his face between his hands and kissed him hard. He could undo Shane, but he wouldn’t, not like that.

“Come on,” he whispered, pulling Shane with him towards the bed. He pushed Shane down so that he was sitting on the bed with his back to the door and Bood. He spread Shane’s legs wide, making room for himself between his thick thighs. He thumped to his knees with less grace than he would admit.

“He won’t see you like that,” Ilya murmured, “he won’t see anything.” Ilya reached for the button of Shane’s trousers.

“But he’s here,” Shane choked out, his cheeks flushed. He looked down at Ilya, his perfect lips glistening with spit.

“Yeah,” Ilya confirmed. “He’s here and he’ll know how well you take it.”

“That’s not how that works,” Shane gritted out, inhaling sharply when Ilya undid his fly and dove in to nuzzle against his bulge.

Ilya sucked at Shane’s cock through the fabric, smugness radiating of him.

“It’s exactly how this works.” He might be the one on his knees, but Shane was the one taking it. “Up,” he commanded, tapping at Shane’s hip demandingly. He smiled when Shane complied and lifted his ass off the bed so that he could pull his pants and boxers down.

“Good boy,” he whispered, so low that only Shane could hear it.

Shane flushed at the praise, the blush shooting up in his cheeks before traveling lower, vanishing in the collar of his dress shirt. Fuck, Ilya wanted to undress him, wanted to see how low it reached. He wouldn’t. This version of his perfect Canadian boy, of his Shane, was only for him.

“Look at you,” Ilya murmured, “so hard for me. So wet for me.” He wiped his thumb through the first beads of come pooling on Shane’s slit, relishing the shudder running through Shane. Ilya loved how responsive and sensitive Shane was. He wished he had the time to tease him, draw this out. But this was still the room, and despite that, Ilya felt his own need for Shane raising inside him until it was all he could think about. He wanted Shane. He needed him. He needed his cock in his mouth.

Ilya groaned when he wrapped his lips around the tip of Shane’s cock and the salty, slightly bitter flavor of his pre-come hit his tongue. He started to suck, swirling his tongue over the head until he feels Shane’s thighs start to quiver.

Sometimes Ilya was struck by his own voracity, by his need to taste and feel Shane, by his need to take Shane out of his mind and make him completely his. He couldn’t show the world that Shane was his, but he could show Shane that he was Ilya’s by making him forget where they were and that they weren’t alone. He could show himself that.

Ilya took Shane deeper until his cock slipped into his throat and pushed against the back of it, making him choke on Shane’s dick. He stayed there with his nose nestled firmly into Shane’s crotch until tears threatened to spring and fall. Just then Ilya drew back, licking over Shane’s full length and swirling his tongue over the tip to gather more of the delicious drops while breathing heavily through is nose.

Fuck Ilya loved this. He loved the incoherent noises Shane made, loved how his thighs trembled with the effort not to push into his mouth because Shane knew he wasn’t allowed to, that it was Ilya who gave and Shane who took.

Ilya could feel Shane’s eyes burning into him without needing to look, the intensity of his gaze palpable. It made Ilya’s skin prickle and his cock strain harder against his sweatpants. He pushed against it with his palm for a short to temporarily ease the pressure, but this wasn’t about him. This was about Shane.

Ilya bobbed his head, hollowing his cheeks before he used a hint of teeth, just the way he knew Shane loved. He placed one hand on Shane’s hip as a reminder not to move, and Shane moaned in response. Ilya loved the power he had over Shane like this. He looked up to meet Shane’s gaze and the want in his lover’s eyes made him groan around the dick in his mouth, the vibration sending another shiver down Shane’s spine.

When Ilya increased the pace and the pressure, it didn’t take long for Shane to come with a long, drawn-out moan, his head thrown back and his eyes pressed tightly shut, lost in his own world of pleasure. Ilya let him come inside his mouth, swallowing every single drop Shane had to give. He stayed there a moment longer until Shane’s cock stopped to pulse and his body to shiver before he drew back, planting a last kiss to the tip of his cock.

Shane reached for him and Ilya let him pull him up, slinging his arms around him. Shane dropped his head on his shoulder, panting heavily. Ilya didn’t say anything, just held him as close as he could. Behind them, Bood cleared his throat.

“Fuck,” Shane said with a little, helpless laugh. “He’s really still there.”

Ilya ran his hand through Shane’s hair, now not only damp from the shower but from sweat too.

“Let’s get out of here,” Ilya said, “let’s go home.”

Shane drew back, and for a moment Ilya could see all the thoughts and emotions washing over his face. That Shane needed to be with his team now, go out with them to fulfil his captain duties. That Shane and Ilya needed to keep up the pretense of being rivals. Shane shook his head, just the tiniest of movements, a smile taking over his face.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”