Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Sub Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Top Shane Hollander, Dom Shane Hollander, Switching, Light Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Sexual Overstimulation, Butt Plugs, Ilya Rozanov Wears Shane Hollander's Hockey Jersey, Ilya "Reformed Slut" Rozanov Final Form, the inherent eroticism of domesticating a manwhore, Crying During Sex, Praise Kink, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch Ilya Rozanov, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 3 of chirpverse

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-22 Words: 3,785 Chapters: 1/1

training season's over

Summary

"It is simple. I would like to not think for a while, and I have a feeling you would enjoy a bit of control right now, yes?”

Shane's breath caught.

Notes

Don't worry, Bottom Ilya Acolytes, I have not forgotten about you.

Title from Training Season by Dua Lipa

Shane sighed as the front door closed behind him, and the feeling of the outside world staring at him expectantly was not shut off, but solidly diminished for the first time all day. As always, the pressure was mostly real as was the case with any professional athlete, but Shane knew a large portion of the stress was pressure he had put there, which was resistant to any amount of comfort from his husband, his loved ones, his therapist, or the evidence of his own achievements.

The Centaurs had taken home the Stanley Cup two years in a row, an incredible feat that Shane was immensely proud of. But every professional athlete was insatiable for victory at the end of the day, so he wanted to break records and do it again this year. Both for the normal reasons, and also because it would beat his record with the Metros.

Shane had ended up with his own therapist after the outing and all the associated stress of leaving the Metros, so he had had some time to examine his feelings, and figure out exactly why this season was so different for him. It felt like if he could do what he hadn't done before, and get the Cup 3 years in a row, it would in some way erase those years spent giving everything to a team that cast him away for loving Ilya. It would make the Centaurs, a team built on love, both his with Ilya and the unconditional support and genuine friendship that he had with his teammates, take the place of the Metros in the history books and in Shane's own mind.

However, the hockey world had finally adapted to the powerhouse that was Shane and Ilya on the same team. The competition felt much tougher this year, and the push for playoffs was wearing on Shane as the Centaurs fought to stay on top of teams which had become much better at countering their strategies.

This has led Shane to pushing harder during practice, staying later, and watching recordings of matches in the evenings. He knew it wasn't healthy, and Ilya liked to remind him there was a point where it all became actively harmful, but this year it felt personal. He needed to win, even more so than normal.

Even worse, he knows his stress has been bleeding over to Ilya, who has been working harder than ever to soothe Shane and captain the team to a third win. He hated doing that to Ilya, but it was impossible to relax when it felt like he was just trying to keep up with everything the hockey world was throwing at him.

He sighs and takes off his shoes, and walks further into the house, looking for his husband. He had driven home separately from Ilya, who had said something about needing to leave early to sort out a paperwork issue with Anya's “hotel for dogs.”

Despite this, he couldn't see Ilya anywhere, even though his car was parked outside and his shoes were by the door.

“Ilya, I'm home!” Anya comes bounding up to him, and he fondly ruffles her ears while he waits for a reply. It takes a moment, but eventually he hears Ilya’s voice, muffled and coming from the other side of the house.

“In the bedroom, moy lyubov!”

Curious, and with a growing suspicion, Shane walks to the bedroom.

He steps inside, and freezes immediately.

“Welcome home.” Ilya smiles mischievously at him from where he is leaning against the doorway of the bathroom.

He’s wearing a Centaurs jersey. Just a Centaurs jersey.

Its hem cuts off at Ilya's upper thigh, covering just enough to tease, and exposing what felt like miles of long, muscular legs underneath.

“You took so long, did you get lost on way home?”

“Uh, no, I- Ilya?” Shane should be better able to speak right now, he saw Ilya fully naked every day, but right now his eyes were caught on the way that the jersey brushed against Ilya’s pale upper thighs. Getting his thoughts together didn’t get any easier when Ilya playfully hooked a finger under the hem at his thigh and pulled it upwards to reveal enough skin to make it very clear he was wearing nothing underneath.

Ilya smirked at the look on Shane’s face, and pushed away from the doorframe to prowl over to where Shane is still frozen by the entrance to the room. He stops a few steps out of reach and purrs, “I had idea, yes?”

“Yes?” Shane wasn’t sure if he was asking a question, or just agreeing to anything Ilya could possibly want right then. Maybe both.

Ilya’s smirk widened. “Mmm, yes. A surprise for you, and a treat for me.”

Before Shane can figure out a response, Ilya turns, revealing the name written across his shoulders. Ilya was wearing Shane’s jersey, Hollander stretched proudly across Ilya’s shoulders like a claim. His mouth went dry.

Ilya looked back at him over his shoulder and winked, “You like?”

Shane couldn’t tear his eyes away from those letters. He nods quickly. “I like. Of course I like. Ilya, what-?”

Ilya turned back around to catch Shane’s eyes fully, and the playful expression slips towards seriousness for a moment, as he takes a step closer.

“It has been stressful, yes? And we have both worked so hard recently, you to show world you can break any record in front of you, and me helping so I can see the look on everyone’s faces when you do it. And Shane,” Ilya pauses, suddenly sincere, and smiles softly at him. “We will do it. I know this.”

Shane was superstitious to the extent any hockey player was, and mentioning the Cup with confidence at this point in the season was a big one. “Ilya-”

“Ah, ah, your husband is being very sexy right now, you should let him speak.”

Shane sighed, and smiled ruefully but kept his mouth shut.

Ilya took another step forward, now just out of reach. “So I have idea then on how I can remind my husband what he is capable of.”

Ilya casually took that final step closer, the jersey fluttering around his thighs at the motion.

“I feel like I can guess what this idea might be.” Shane said wryly, with a calm he did not feel.

“Oh?” Ilya smiled mischievously and bit his lip, “Good, I can skip forward then.”

He leans in close, but doesn’t touch, keeping an inch of distance between them that crackles with electricity as he murmurs, “In here, all those other people do not matter. It's just me here, and I'm yours to do whatever you want with. And god, moy lyubimyy, I will love it. So it is simple. I would like to not think for a while, and I have a feeling you would enjoy a bit of control right now, yes?”

Shane's breath caught.

There had been more experimentation since their first try at switching, both with Ilya bottoming more, and Shane taking control regardless of who was on top. Over time, it's begun to feel natural, even if it is still rare. However, with the recent stress, they had fallen into old habits of Ilya taking Shane out of his mind as a break from everything, so it had been some time since they did any form of switching. Shane hadn't even noticed, but apparently Ilya had, enough to miss it.

Shane felt a mixture of arousal, sudden intense craving, and deep fondness. All Shane has wanted recently is to stop thinking, but suddenly, the idea of having Ilya like that is intoxicating. An inverse of his normal escape from the stress, and a different way to give back to his husband. And leave it to Ilya to notice, and recognize that Shane needed that right now, even when he himself didn't realize. Of course, this is Ilya though, so he has a chirp ready even now, as his seductive grin turns into a ridiculous pout.

"And Hollander, I have been so good recently. I have followed your sad, little meal plan, I scored hat trick in last game, and have not even talked too much about sexy things we do in bed to other people. Do I not deserve reward?" Ilya’s pout is broken by a sly smile, "Besides, do you not want to get a good grade again? Be told how good you made me feel?"

Shane was not going to examine which part of that last statement did more for him, as he suspected the answer was embarrassing either way. He chose instead to break the tension holding the moment together and grab Ilya's face to kiss him deeply. Ilya let out a soft noise of surprise into his mouth, but happily deepened the kiss when he felt Shane’s tongue swipe at his lips. He returns it and they lose a minute like that, lost in each other's lips, before Shane is able to pull back and whisper against Ilya’s lips, “Thank you.”

He felt Ilya’s mouth curve into a smile against his, “Of course. And really, I must thank you.”

He pulled back enough to catch Shane’s gaze, “I have missed you inside me, solnyshko.”

Shane’s breath catches, then something clicks inside him. He pulls on the air of dominance that he’s learned from Ilya, then made his own over the past couple months. Something quiets in him as he realizes that right now, nothing outside this room matters. And in here, he had the power to bring Ilya Rozanov to his knees.

He trails a hand up the side of Ilya’s neck, grips him around the back of his nape and whispers, “Get on your knees.”

-

Ilya drops.

Ilya felt the heat flare through him as his bare knees hit the ground, and his thoughts go muffled, just the way Shane has taught Ilya he loves. The change from standing to kneeling moved Shane’s hand upwards, so now his hand is buried in Ilya’s curls.

His scalp prickles, and starts to sting just a little bit as he feels Shane tighten his grip and pull slightly, enough to tilt Ilya’s head back so that the full length of his neck is exposed. Shane brings his other hand down to Ilya’s collarbone and trails it upwards, cupping and tracing the arch of Ilya's neck slowly, like he had all the time in the world.

His thumb reaches the bottom of Ilya’s jaw and tightens slightly, not enough to cut off Ilya’s air, but enough to trap him in place between Shane’s grip on his hair and around his neck. The air leaves Ilya’s lungs completely in a soft, nearly inaudible whine.

Shane’s eyes are dark as he holds Ilya there for a minute, unhurriedly taking in the sight of Ilya on his knees with Shane’s hand wrapped around his neck, the other pulling at his hair.

Finally, Shane speaks, saying softly and contemplatively. “You used to be such a slut, didn't you Ilya?”

Ilya turns fever-hot, and he gasps, “Shane…”

“Shh,” Shane hushes him, then tightens the hand in his hair slightly, arching Ilya’s head further back. At the same time, the thumb pressing into Ilya’s throat strokes gently, up and down. “It's okay, because you're mine now, aren't you, baby?”

“Yes, da.” Ilya breathes, already feeling desperate even though Shane has barely touched him at all. “I am yours.”

Shane smiles softly, gentles his grip and strokes his thumb against where Ilya’s pulse is beating rabbit-quick. “Yeah, all mine.” His hand drifts up from Ilya’s throat to join the other in his hair, and then he says, “Show me that you’re mine,” and pulls Ilya forward.

A broken noise gasps out of Ilya, and he follows Shane’s pull to mouth at Shane through his sweatpants.

“Good boy.” Ilya feels a rush of heat at those words, and barely swallows down an embarassing noise.

Underneath his mouth, Shane is quickly starting to harden, and when the fabric starts to become dark with spit, Ilya moves Shane’s pants and underwear out of the way to properly swallow down his husband. He takes him in fast enough that his years of practice deepthroating doesn’t kick in right away, and tears spring to his eyes as his throat spasms around Shane’s cock.

Even if he wanted to pull back and catch his breath, which god, Ilya does not, Shane doesn’t let him. His hands hold Ilya in place, mouth stretched around Shane and nose rubbing against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Shhh,” Shane murmurs again, “Relax, you know this, baby.”

Any other time, Ilya would have made fun of Shane for trying to coach him on blowjobs (and he certainly would later), but right now, the instruction just makes his mind fuzzier, and he isn’t sure how much of the tears stinging his eyes are from the cock filling his throat, or the heat flooding his whole body. God, Shane hadn’t even touched Ilya yet and he felt insane.

Shane uses his grip on Ilya’s hair to guide him again, moving him into a bobbing motion. Ilya moans around his cock and lets Shane move his head back and forth, no resistance at all. Knowing he could do this, simply let his husband use him and his mouth for pleasure, and all he had to do was be a soft, wet mouth for Shane… It was intoxicating, addicting. One of his hands creep down from where they are wrapped around Shane’s thighs to Ilya’s own cock and he gives himself a few strokes, moaning more as he does so.

Shane notices, and immediately pulls Ilya off his cock. Ilya lets out a sad whine at the loss.

“None of that yet, I’ve got plans for you. Up.” Shane tugs again at Ilya’s hair, letting go finally when Ilya is standing again in front of him.

Shane pats Ilya’s side and starts taking off the rest of his clothes. “Turn around again, I want to see how pretty you look for me right now.”

How could Ilya possibly deny that? He turns, and when he feels Shane’s hands land on his hips and gently, but firmly push him towards the bed, he lets him, falling forward onto his elbows with his ass up so that the name on his back, and other things, are very visible.

“Ilya…” He feels Shane spread his cheek with one hand to get a better look at the plug holding Ilya open and ready for Shane, the skin around it shiny with lube. The plug is red and black, to match the jersey on Ilya's back.

Ilya forces the words out past the static in his brain, he had been planning them all day. “I have thought so much about having you in me again, I did not want to wait any longer.”

“God, Ilya.” Shane whispers, so shocked and turned on that for a moment the dominance has fallen away, and it’s just his sweet Shane, the way he has loved him for a decade. Then Shane’s voice deepens, and Ilya feels the plug get pushed in slightly. “You want this bad, don’t you, baby?”

Ilya drops his head down to the bed, and nods. “Yes.” The word is half gasp, and half moan.

Shane’s other hand pushes the jersey further up to reveal the dip of his back, as he continues to toy with the base of the plug, pushing it in and out. “You made yourself all pretty just for me. Got yourself all ready to be fucked cause you just couldn’t wait any longer, huh? My little desperate slut.”

Shane presses firmly down on the plug, making it push right against Ilya’s prostate. The noise that Ilya makes is neither Russian or English, it barely sounds human.

“I’ll give you what you need, but I need you to do something for me first, ok?”

“Anything,” Ilya gasps, panting at the feeling of his prostate getting rubbed into so cruelly after an hour of having the plug in him, waiting for it to be replaced by Shane's cock.

Abruptly, the plug is worked out of Ilya, leaving him shivering as cool air hits his open hole.

“Can you be a good boy and beg all pretty for me too?” Shane murmurs.

“Blyat, fuck, Shane.” Ilya whined, “Shane, I need you, please.”

“Mmm, what do you need?” Shane sounded calm, but there was a tremble in his hand as he moved it down to Ilya's hip, and Ilya felt the wet drip of Shane's dick against his hole as he rubs it just outside where Ilya wants it.

“Your dick, moy lyubov, l need you inside me. Please, please fuck me.” English was failing Ilya, so he switched to Russian “I am yours, fuck me like I am yours.”

“Fuck, Ilya.” Shane groaned, then in a low voice, and only the slightest hint of accent, “Good boy, my good boy.”

He thrust in, fucking fully into Ilya in one smoooth motion. Ilya keens, a higher pitched noise than his voice normally would go. He is still a little tight even after the plug, and it's just dry enough that it burns deliciously as he feels Shane force Ilya's body to stretch around his cock. He whines again. “God, Shane, lyubov. Fuck!”

A hand grabs onto the jersey, and using it and the grip he has on Ilya's hip, Shane pulls Ilya back into his next hard thrust forward, splitting him open completely and making Ilya’s eyes roll back as his prostate is hit. Just like last time, Shane adjusts his angle upon hearing Ilya’s moan to thrust into his prostate again and again with perfect precision.

“Fuck, you're beautiful.” Shane swears, sounding overcome and emotional. “So good for me. No one would believe how good you behave for me. Used to be a slut for anyone, but now you're only like this for me.”

“Da, da.” Ilya agrees breathlessly. “Only you, Shane, only you.”

Ilya feels beautifully, perfectly overwhelmed again, unable to do anything but hold onto the sheets for dear life and struggle to breathe as his husband thrusts into him hard and fast. Tears begin to drip from his eyes onto the bed underneath him as he just becomes a body for Shane to find his pleasure in.

Shane moans, barely audible over the sound of the bed squeaking and the slapping of his hips against Ilya’s ass. “God, Ilya, tell me you're mine, all mine.”

“Yours,” Ilya sobbed. “Yours, I am yours.”

“Fuck, baby,” Shane groans, dropping his head to Ilya’s back as his thrusts start to go erratic. “Are you close?”

“Da,” Ilya whimpers, moving his hips back into Shane's thrusts, desperate for that last bit of sensation to push him over.

Shane growls, “Touch yourself, I want to feel you come on me.”

Ilya’s hand flies down, and it only takes a few strokes before a moan is choked out of him, as he tips over the edge. He drops down to the mattress, unable to hold himself up anymore.

“Fuck!” Shane moans as Ilya clenches helplessly around his cock, and thrusts again. The sensation is like an electric shock to Ilya's overstimulated nerves so soon after he has come, and he whimpers.

Shane slows abruptly, “Shit, I'm sorry-”

Ilya shakes his head, looking back over his shoulder at Shane, “No, no, keep going.”

The next words trip out of his mouth without any planning, simple and true. “I am yours, lyubov, use me.”

Shane's eyes are wide and dark, and he moans, “Fuck, Ilya, baby,” and thrusts in again, hard.

Ilya feels completely out of his mind after that, drifting as he rides the pleasure and pain of overstimulation as Shane fucks him frantically, no longer trying to aim for Ilyas's sake, just trying to get himself off. Each thrust pushes out a moan from Ilya, and the sheets are wet under his face from tears and drool. Finally, just when it really is becoming too much, Shane thrusts in deep one more time and curses loudly as he stills. Ilya lets out a final breathless moan as he feels the wet heat of Shane’s cum spill inside him.

“Fuck,” Shane drops his head to Ilya’s back, panting into where his name is stitched into the jersey. A moment passes where the room is silent except for the sounds of their panting as they catch their breath, before Shane pulls out of Ilya with a groan.

Ilya winces at the uncomfortable empty feeling, then flops over bonelessly to lay on his back as Shane walks off to the bathroom to get a wet towel. He feels like he is floating above his body as Shane maneuvers the soiled jersey off his body and gently wipes first the tears from his face, then the cum off his stomach. However, he stirs back to wakefulness to protest when he feels Shane move between his legs.

“No, no, solnyshko.”

“What?” Shane blinks at him, looking exhausted and confused.

Ilya looks around, and when he spots what he is looking for, grabs at the plug to hand it to Shane. “I want to keep you inside me longer. Is very sexy for me.”

“Really?” Shane wrinkles his nose.

“Yes, really.” Ilya rolls his eyes and waves the plug insistently. “Just because you have sensory problem with creampie does not mean I do. Put in plug.” He parts his legs expectantly.

“Alright, it's your ass, I guess.” Shane huffs out with a laugh, half amused and half begrudgingly turned on.

“Ah, I thought we agreed my ass belonged to you though?”

The passion with which Shane kisses him after that tells Ilya exactly how his husband feels about that statement.

Then, slowly and carefully, Shane pushes the cum that had started to leak out of Ilya back in with gentle fingers. The plug follows a moment later, feeling cool against Ilya's overheated skin. Ilya exhales shakily as his sore rim is stretched again, and then a quick inhale when Shane places a soft kiss against Ilya's inner thigh.

“Beautiful,” Shane whispers, smiling at him from between Ilya's spread legs.

Ilya has to kiss him again after that, it's impossible not to. Finally, after a few lingering kisses, Ilya pulls away to smile happily at Shane.

“Mmm, very nice. Now cuddle me. I want to be little spoon.”

Shane laughs, and gathers Ilya up into his arms. “You are utterly ridiculous.”

Ilya hums, absolutely content as he presses back into Shane, “Yes, but I am yours, da?”

Shane smiles and drops a small kiss on Ilya’s shoulder. “Yeah, you're all mine.”