Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Brandon Wiebe's Wife, Jackie Pike, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Ear Piercings, Top Shane Hollander, Bottom Ilya Rozanov, First Time

Language:

English

Series:

Part 8 of win conditions

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-12 Words: 16,764 Chapters: 1/1

The Ways We Enter Each Other

Summary

To go through or into (something) in a forceful or noticeable way.

-Second definition of 'pierce' in The Britannica Dictionary

Notes

Content Warning: Ilya briefly recalls a sexual experience that he had as a minor with another minor (Sasha).

This particular story wasn't inspired by any one prompt. I just missed Ilya's POV which I haven't revisited since the original story, but it does quickly touch on Doublewindsor's request to get Ilya's reaction post-being called 'Uncle Ilya' for the first time.

Timeline Note: This story takes place in March and April of 2022. Event-wise, J.J. and Carter have recently had their conversation about waiting, Rose and Sveta are still keeping their hookups a 'secret', Hayden has had his first time with Joey recently, and Ilya and Shane have been engaged for roughly two to three months.

It was 9:45 AM on a Tuesday morning and Shane was riding Ilya's dick like his life depended on it when one of Ilya's many alarms went off. Ilya had been practicing a new favorite move. Shane was mounted with his back to Ilya, a view only marred by not also having his face visible, while Ilya lounged against the headboard. In this position, it was very easy to not only watch his cock disappear in and out of Shane at an increasingly desperate rate, but Ilya could, with very little trouble, rub his thumb around Shane's stretched hole and teasingly introduce a fingertip to the situation.

They'd discovered this little addition quite by accident the first time and it had made Shane come immediately with a punched-out shocked noise. He was a little more used to it now, but he still moaned deep and loud when Ilya did it and seemed to both want to move away from the sensation and fuck himself backwards onto as hard as possible. Ilya loved watching Shane try to solve impossible quandaries when he was fuckdrunk. It may or may not have led to some surreptitious research on predicament bondage for this summer's cottage sojourn.

It was at this very sensitive point in the proceedings that Ilya's alarm went off and his smartwatch vibrated along with it. The haptic pulse was nothing on a real vibrator, but poor Shane's head had been rewired so completely over the last year that the mere sound and feel of a tiny pulse, the stretch of Ilya's fingertip against his cock, and the incredible effort Shane had already made, culminated in him coming so hard that he visibly shook with it.

Ilya sat up, grabbed Shane's hips and ground down into him, coming himself as Shane squeezed down hard around him. Their heavy breathing synced up, Shane's head lolling against Ilya's shoulder. With pleasure-weakened hands, Shane plucked up Ilya's wrist, silenced the alarm and checked it.

"You have twenty minutes until you have to go. Cutting it a little close, Rozanov."

"Shut up," Ilya muttered and kissed his neck. "You started this."

"All I did was walk into the bedroom and ask if you needed the shower."

"You were in your little shorts, no shirt."

"I was working out, asshole," Shane said, dropping more of his weight against Ilya, keeping them locked together. "You jumped me."

"Oh yes, very sad for poor little Hollander. Taken advantage of once again by his big mean coach," Ilya snorted, and trailed more kisses over his shoulder. "You wanted me to jump you. You wanted this."

"I always want this," Shane admitted, the slow near-purr of approval as Ilya kept kissing him softly driving Ilya absolutely insane. Why couldn't he get it up again right now? Surely the universe owed him one or two minor miracles. "And now we both need the shower."

"Mm, a fast one," Ilya said though he didn't release Shane from his grip. "I love you."

The incandescent smile on Shane's face would never get old. "I love you too."

They piled into the shower together, but turned to their own routines. It was easier these days to give each other room to wash their hair and bodies, instead of clinging desperately to each other. They had so much more time now. Ilya maybe did a little clinging anyway. He wouldn't want Shane to feel unappreciated after all.

"When do you think you'll be back?" Shane asked as Ilya toweled off.

"We will get lunch after. Maybe two? I will text if it is any later."

"You'll probably still beat me home. Dad really likes to linger in the nursery and then we have to get everything ready to germinate."

"They have a landscaper," Ilya pointed out, not for the first time.

"I'm aware," Shane sighed. "You want to be the one to tell Dad he should let the pros handle it?"

"No," Ilya said. He could only imagined the baffled hurt on David's face if it were implied he couldn't handle setting up his vegetable patch. "Careful of your ankle."

"It was a mild sprain and I've been better for weeks."

"Better, not best," Ilya said. "And the ground is not even."

"Okay," Shane said as if annoyed, but he kissed Ilya one more time, before turning to get dressed.

Ilya got ready, gave Anya a thorough petting then headed out with a last called out goodbye that echoed back to him down the hall. The day was bright if still chilly as March started to kick off winter's hold. The drive to the Wiebes was a pleasant one, green and full of winding poorly policed roads. Without a beloved passenger, Ilya opened up the car and rolled down the windows.

The cold air soaked in and invigorated him. He arrived at the top of the driveway with the old familiar high of adrenaline in his blood.

"Hi, Ilya!" Tina called from her bedroom window. "Mom says she'll be ready in a minute, but you should come in and get a snack!"

"Thank you!" He yelled back up to her.

The front door was unlocked. Elliot was in the living room, hood of his sweatshirt up and headphones on. He gave Ilya a highly disinterested 'hey' as he passed by. The promised snack was evident in the kitchen, a plastic container of raspberry danishes on the counter. Ilya took one and got down a plate to catch the crumbs. The Wiebe kitchen gave the impression of barely-contained chaos despite it's generous size. The counters were full of containers and appliances, small stacks of papers, and library books.

Ilya spent a lot of time in kitchens these days and they were all as distinct as fingerprints. There was his own which had always been tidy, a room solely for the preparation of food with the fridge only blooming with magnets and photos now that Shane shared it.

The Pike kitchen was ruthlessly organized, but often sticky in places with the mayhem of much younger children and always boasting some freshly made item or beautiful snack plate. It seemed like Jackie willed food into being sometimes, making it appear too quickly to be freshly prepared.

David and Yuna's kitchen was always in a state of flux. Neither of them were particularly messy people and they had a cleaner come once a week, but they seemed to generate a lot of dishes and were forever making cups of coffee that were half-drunk and forgotten about. They also had a fondness for kitschy things that always surprised Ilya. He'd imagined it was mostly David until he watched Yuna linger over a collection of wicker bowls and purchase one after much consideration. It had been put to work holding Drover family apples.

All these homes where Ilya was invited in to linger devasted him. So many places where he was allowed to take things and even feed other people from ("Roz, can you get Melissa an ice pop? She can't reach." "We'll be back in a half hour, thanks for doing this, if the twins get hangry you can throw cheese sticks at them." "Ilya, sweetie, could you check on the chicken? I think it's done.") It was overwhelming sometimes, if he thought about it too much. Four years ago, he had sat alone in his kitchen in Boston and struggled to find the motivation to even feed himself.

Ilya took a big bite of the danish because he could. Because it was one of those grocery store kinds that was sweet and too soft, inviting excess consumption. Once it had been thoroughly eliminated and the plate already rinsed and stuck in the dishwasher, Dottie clattered down the stairs.

"Sorry, sorry!" she said. "I couldn't find my other shoe if you can believe it. It got kicked under the bed somehow. I'm ready."

"Thank you for the danish," he said. "I am also ready."

Dottie gave Elliot a quick shoulder squeeze, apparently not put off by her eldest barely lifting his eyes to mumble a goodbye to her. Tina shouted down from the window and waved as they got in the car then disappeared from view.

"Updates from the game?" Ilya asked.

"1-0 for the Ladybugs," Dottie reported. "Melissa's at bat was a bit of disaster."

"Many more tries left in the game though, yes?"

"Hopefully. She's been working so hard. Why she had to go all in on a sport neither of us know anything about…well. That's kids, I guess."

None of the Wiebe children played hockey. Bren seemed utterly at peace with it. Was that what normal parents did? Just supported their kids interests, even when they dovetailed from their own? Seemed nice. The Pikes seemed inclined the same way, enrolling the the kids in whatever lessons they asked about rather than dictating them.

"What will your older two get up to with no one home?" Ilya asked.

"If they've moved from where they are by the time we get home, it was probably only to eat half the contents in the fridge," Dottie said with a laugh. "Tina has been texting her friends all morning from bed. She's still in her pajamas. They're planning something for the talent show, but I'm sure there's also some drama. Elliott's favorite band dropped a new album, so he'll listen to that on repeat while he plays whatever horror game he's into now. Teens are surprising immobile."

"Not the ones I know," Ilya said. Though there weren't any teens on the Centaurs right now. For the best. Ilya was already a little worried he'd permanently damaged Luca's psyche, but the kid seemed to be surviving it so far.

"Them too," Dottie said. "I bet they have their off days. Teenagers need to sleep as much as babies. They're growing every which way and it's tiring work."

Ilya did remember sleeping in whenever given the chance. He hadn't often been given the chance.

They talked about the kids and then Dottie's work. As the kids had gotten older, she'd taken on more clients, doing legal transcription. It let her work from home and at whatever hours she needed as long as she hit deadlines. As far as Ilya knew, the Wiebes didn't need the money, but Dottie liked working. The job seemed dull to Ilya, listening and typing, but sometimes, Dottie would surprise him with an anecdote (nameless and scrubbed of identifying details because she was ruthless in her morals, naturally, what other kind of woman would Brandon Wiebe marry?) that had him doubling over in laughter. People said wild things in depositions as it turned out.

It wasn't lost on Ilya that he had surrounded himself with funny, kind women. It was not something he had set out to do, but as he drove them into the city and Dottie teased him about his speeding, how could he regret it? He'd asked Galina once if she thought it was because he gave off some kind of signal to them. Like they could see somehow what he was missing.

"You didn't find them as a child," she had said thoughtfully. "You found them now."

"Maybe I need it more now," he had said, only half-joking.

"Or maybe, you had to be ready to accept it. And ready to return their care with your own."

That particular session had ground through Ilya's mind a month ago. It had been a regular lunch with the Wiebes, all three kids had had friends over so it was even louder than usual.

"Oh no," Dottie said, midway through the meal, checking her notifications. "Asha said she has to move my appointment, but the only time she has free is during one of Melissa's games."

Bren frowned, checking schedules. "I can take her, but then you have to go alone. Sorry, honey. You want to see if she has another date?"

"If she can't fit me in, I'll have to wait until after we get back from vacation or I won't be healed in time to swim."

That had gotten Ilya's attention. As far as he knew, Dottie was healthy. "You need surgery?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Dottie said. "I'm getting another tattoo. Bren always comes with me to hold my hand."

"Another?" Ilya's eyebrows flew up. "You have tattoos?"

"Four," Bren supplied with a grin. "She just got them strategically placed."

"I like having the option to keep them covered," Dottie explained. "Here, you'll like this one."

Then she rolled up her t-shirt sleeve to reveal a tattoo of a puck shattering a pane of glass. It was older ink, gone a little soft at the edges.

"I love this!" Ilya said, leaning in closer. "When did you get it?"

"When I graduated high school," Dottie said at a normal volume, then checked the room for her children and whispered with a wink to him. "Or the year before. Hard to say."

"Very hard to say," Ilya agreed merrily. "Are they all hockey?"

"No, the rest aren't. I have the kid's names and birthdays on my right thigh. There's some flowers on my left shoulder. The last one is private."

"Dottie!" Ilya said with a scandalized tone. "A private tattoo! I had no idea."

"That's what private means," Bren said amused. "I know it's not your favorite word."

"I am very good at private," Ilya grumbled, but he subsided. "I can go with you. I have not gotten a tattoo, but I have held many hands for them. Drunk hockey player hands. This will definitely be nicer."

Dottie glanced at Bren, but he only shrugged. "It's up to you, honey."

"I'd like that," she decided. "If you're sure you don't mind, Ilya?"

He shook his head. "I would be happy to do it."

When he told Shane about it, his fiance had smiled at him and said only, "Okay, but if you decide to get one too, maybe let me know first so I don't get jump scared?"

"I will not get one," Ilya had laughed. "But yes, if I change my mind, I will tell you."

Which led to Ilya parking in front of a shop, lodged in what must've been a private home at some point in it's life. Now it had a sign outside declaring it 3 Birds Ink. Dottie took the steps with every sign of excitement and Ilya followed her in. The front room was half a waiting room and half an art gallery. Framed photographs of tattoos lined the walls and Ilya studied them as Dottie talked to the receptionist.

There was a section of the wall that had a tattoo style that Ilya hadn't seen before. Most of the Boston guys got the typical sorts of things, angry animals, women's names, daggers in hearts, and usually in the same no-color cartoony style. He'd seen a variety of things on hookups over the years, but he was rarely studying the art on their bodies. These tattoos were entirely different from anything he could remember. They were soft and billowy, color spilling over the dark lines. It was watercolor on skin.

"Aren't they pretty?" Dottie came to stand beside him. "I love her work."

"This is what you are getting?" Ilya asked.

"Not today, maybe a future one. I'm getting a silly one today."

"A silly tattoo?"

"Why not?" Dottie grinned up at him. "Its my body and I like to have fun with it."

"Hi, Dottie!" A head peeked around the door. Asha, presumably. She wore her hair in thick dreadlocks, several of them wound with gold wire. She had matching gold nose and eyebrow piercings that glowed against her dark skin. "I'm ready for you. No Bren today?"

"I swapped him for a younger model," Dottie said with a laugh. "Just for today though. Ilya, this is Asha. Asha, Ilya."

"Nice to meet you," Ilya said.

"Nice to meet you too. C'mon back."

There was a hall with a few doors. Voices carried under one of them, along with the buzz of a needle. Asha opened the third door. There was the familiar bed/table thing that Ilya recognized from other parlors, along with the metal tray with its tattoo gun and waiting inks. The walls had been painted in blue and green swirls like a suggestion of deep water.

"Okay, let's figure out placement," Asha said as Dottie sat down on the table.

Dottie shed her sweater. She was wearing a floral tank top underneath, apparently prepped for this moment. Ilya stayed at the door as Asha set the transfer paper down on Dottie's upper arm where it would mirror the hockey puck tattoo on the other side. When Asha peeled the paper away, it left blue lines and it took Ilya a moment to discern a sports car being drive by a tiny rodent that could barely reach the wheel. He had goggles on and a scarf flying behind him.

"A mouse?" Ilya asked.

"A rat. I had a pet one for a few years," Dottie said. "Sparky. Cutest little guy. He always wanted to do whatever I was doing. I had a dream a few months ago about him and it seemed like as good an idea as any. Asha, you did an amazing job with it."

"It is very good," Ilya said, fishing for the right descriptor.

"Thanks," Asha said. "Want to look in the mirror?"

She and Dottie debated the merits of moving it higher for a few minutes. The word that Ilya had been searching for came to him as Dottie got comfortable and Asha wheeled over a stool for Ilya to sit on. He held out his right hand to Dottie. If she squeezed the hell out of it, that was practically free PT, the way he saw it.

"Whimsy," he said with some triumph. "The reporters love that word when they talk about our team and this is what they mean. Little rat in a sports car. Very whimsical."

"Exactly," Dottie said with a smile. "You like it?"

"I like whimsy very much," Ilya said. "And I like your rat."

He held Dottie's hand and she didn't seem to need much beyond that as Asha worked. The buzz of the needle was familiar and he could have been in Boston, Marley cracking jokes as a rookie got his own number ground into his thigh.

"Oh, that stings," Dottie said without much concern. "I'm surprised you don't have any tattoos."

"I almost did it," Ilya said. "Once or twice. I almost had the Raiders logo, but I did not like how it looked when I got to the shop. You think I am the kind of man who has tattoos?"

"Every kind of person can have them," Asha said. "You'd be shocked who I've put ink on."

"Shane told me I had to call him if I decided to get one today," Ilya said.

"So he could stop you?" Dottie asked with some concern.

"So it would not be a surprise," he corrected her gently. "He does not like surprises."

"That boy created enough surprises for you last year to count as a horror movie," Dottie said, "maybe he's owed a few."

The internal war to defend Shane hit hard against luxuriating in Dottie's enthusiastic protection. Ilya let the defense win, but it was by a slim margin.

"I like surprises. He knows this. Maybe not at that scale, but it was the only way I would have believed him, I think."

"You two," Dottie said with a shake of the head. "Have you made any decisions about when to have your wedding yet? People are going to start making summer plans soon."

"We are still debating."

They talked about being married all the time. The outcome of a wedding was equally desired by both of them. The wedding itself still existed more nebulously. Shane had suggested hiring a planner last week and Ilya had agreed. While he didn't love the idea of someone else handling something so important for them, he also could not bring himself to care very much about the details. He liked parties. This would be a very good one because of it's purpose, but that didn't mean he wanted to choose table linen colors.

"There's nothing wrong with waiting. Long engagements are the norm these days," Dottie said.

"Oh, yes," Ilya said with a grin. "And you would know. It was what? Three months from a ring to town hall for you?"

"I said 'these days'. You can't hold us old marrieds to the same standards," she said, a small wince crossing her face, her grip tightening slightly on Ilya's hand.

"You're not that old," Ilya said. "It wasn't so long ago."

"I'm older than Scott Hunter."

"Dottie, no. No one is older than Hunter. He will get his walker and come here to fight you if finds out that you claimed this."

"Don't make her laugh," Asha warned. "I don't want to make a shaky line."

The tattoo wasn't very big. It was finished in less than two hours, even with a short stretch break in the middle. The rat had come out very cute. Ilya snapped pictures for Dottie before it was covered up with a plastic bandage. Then she and Asha got to talking about another potential piece and it seemed like they might go on for a bit. Ilya wandered back out to the front.

He was studying the pictures again. The watercolor was interesting. Maybe he would get a tattoo himself here some day, when he had a better idea of what he wanted. The receptionist took a call with a disappointed tone, then got up and yelled down the hall.

"Mel! Your 11 o'clock cancelled!"

"Shit!" A rumbling voice said. "Fine! Thanks. I knew I shouldn't have come in today. I guess I'll head back out, that was all I had."

"We could still get walk-ins," the receptionist said apologetically.

"Yeah, maybe. You're right. Sorry, I'll stick around for a bit. I can go pick up everyone's lunches."

"Oh, you don't have to," the receptionist said. She was a pretty slip of a thing with a lot of pastel ink. "That's my job."

Another woman emerged from the hall, presumably Mel. She was heavyset and wrapped in layers of black clothes. Her hair was buzzed into a gorgeous fade and she had two heavy lip rings that made Ilya lick his own lips trying to imagine the sensation.

"I don't mind," Mel said. "If I'm here, I want to be helpful."

The receptionist's hand alighted on Mel' arm. "You're always really helpful."

Ilya studied the crane tattoo in front of him like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

"Thanks, Bea, I try. What were we thinking? You like the pizza at Polly's best, right?"

"You remembered that?"

"I- yeah. You were really in the crust. "

Ilya slid out his phone.

 

Ilya: How are the plants?

Shane: None of them are plants yet. Dad is talking to a guy about the heirloom tomato varietals they have.

Ilya: How are you surviving?

Shane: I've already eaten my emergency protein bar. I wasn't even hungry, it was just something to do. How is the tattoo place?

Ilya: Very good. Dottie is almost done. I'll send you a pic. I am watching lesbian flirting. It is very very cute.

Shane: Don't get involved.

Ilya: Who me?

Shane: It's none of your business.

Ilya: Boring.

Shane: None. Of. Your. Business.

Ilya: Okay.

 

Ilya wandered over to the desk. Mel and 'Bea' were still talking about lunch in low voices, their heads practically touching as they looked down at Bea's phone. There were business cards displayed on the counter. It didn't take Ilya long to spot the right one.

Mel was not a tattoo artist. She was a piercer. Had she done her own lip piercing? Could you pierce yourself? Bea had a septum piercing and countless earrings in both ears, including in some places Ilya hadn't known you could get pierced. What did that feel like?

Ilya had never seriously considered piercings. They could get ripped out during play and inviting additional risk for a little extra shine had never seemed worth it. But he didn't play anymore. His father would have had a stroke over Ilya wearing even more jewelry than he already did, but his father was beyond harm from Ilya and vice versa.

Ilya's body only belonged to him now. The league could not claim it. His family could not judge him for it. The new family that he was building here wouldn't care beyond a few idle comments. It might make him look a little gay, but he was a little gay. Gay enough to be wearing an engagement ring from another man.

Just picturing Shane on his knees with that ring and the flowers always made Ilya's heart speed dangerously up. A potential future tattoo starting to form in his mind's eye.

Shane could make a pretty good bid for owning a share in Ilya's body, but what interested Shane in Ilya's flesh was how he shared it and how he treated it. Shane wanted Ilya to be kind to himself and to take care of his body in a way that would make it last longer which only seemed reasonable. Ilya also wanted to last longer now that Shane was back in his life.

Many pieces of metal had entered Ilya's body while he was unconscious four years ago. Scalpels and needles had rearranged him, attempting to knit him back together. None of that had been elective.

There was an appeal to opting into it. What would it feel like to welcome pain like Dottie had? To suffer through it with the intent to emerge more yourself?

 

Ilya: I want to get a piercing.

Shane: What kind?

Ilya: An earring maybe.

Shane: One or both?

 

Wasn't one what most men did? A single stud, small and tasteful. A signal, but a quiet one. Ilya was rarely quiet.

 

Ilya: Both.

Shane: You'd look hot.

Ilya: You would like it?

Shane: I think so. You look so good in gold.

 

"I would like to make an appointment," Ilya said.

Bea jumped. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I should have been-"

"You are fine. I was waiting anyway."

"What kind of appointment?" She asked.

"I would like to get my ears pierced. Today, I think. Now?"

Bea's penciled in eyebrows went up, then she smiled at him. "We have an opening."

"I heard."

"What kind of piercing?" Mel asked, following Bea behind the desk, standing over her a little protectively. Very cute. Mel came up to Ilya's shoulder.

"I don't know what you call it, but regular ear ones?" Ilya guessed. "Beginners? For babies? I think I've seen babies with them."

"Lobe?" Mel asked, bemused.

"Yes, exactly," Ilya said.

"That's easy. I can get you in and out with that. You'll need to buy some jewelry though. You can swap them out in six weeks as long as it's healed well."

The tray was not full of fantastic offerings, but considering he hadn't planned this, that was on him. He poured over it and almost gave it all up for a bad idea, when he found a set of matte gold squares that were almost dull, except for the edges which shone brightly. They reminded him of his ring.

"These," he said.

"I take it we're not leaving?" Dottie asked as she stepped into the front room. "If those are going in below the neck, I'll look at the ceiling while I hold your hand."

"My ears, I promise," he said with a laugh. "What do you think?"

"You'll look great," Dottie said.

He didn't think he'd need to hold a hand for such a small thing, but it was nice to have the offer so he took it. Mel had a room like Asha's, but hers was painted in red and orange. Ilya sat on the table and Mel marked his ears with little 'x's for the placement.

"How long have you and Bea been dating?" He asked as innocently as he could manage while he studied his face in the mirror. The 'x's were tiny, so he had to look very closely to see if they were even.

"I- what?" Mel asked, her neck flushing. "We're not. She's not-"

"My apologies," Ilya said smoothly. "I should not assume. She seems to like you very much."

"Don't mind him," Dottie said. "He just got engaged and he sees love everywhere."

"This is true," Ilya said, then sat back satisfied.

"We heard," Mel said, still flustered. "I think the entire world heard. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Ilya said. "You saw the video?"

"Dude, that thing has a gazillion views. Yeah, I saw it. I don't even watch hockey and I saw it."

"Not hockey people saw it too?" Ilya knew that, basically, but having it confirmed was both thrilling and a little scary. As Harris had put it, they had 'escaped containment'.

"Yeah, my guy," Mel said, "it was kind of a big deal. Like the women's teams always have stuff like that, but its not every day two guys get engaged from the pro leagues, you know?"

"I do," Ilya said with some satisfaction.

"Okay, you happy with the placement?"

"Yes."

The needle was startlingly long, but the whole thing was over in seconds, Dottie's hand going un-squeezed in Ilya's. Her grip was firm though and it felt both a little childish and very nice.

"All right, take a look," Mel said, gesturing to the mirror.

It was funny what a small change could do. Tiny gold points in his ears that both said everything and nothing at all. Instead of it feeling strange, Ilya felt settled. Correct. As if it was something that always should have been true about him. Of course, Ilya had piercings. Of course, Ilya would some day soon have tattoos too. This was his body and just as he had built it into a machine with a singular purpose for years, now he could decorate it as he liked.

"Thank you," he said earnestly and pressed cash into Mel's hand.

"Yeah, no problem," Mel said.

"I know have heart eyes right now, but I have very good vision," he told her as quietly and sincerely as he could. "Better to try and know, I think."

Then Ilya took Dottie out to lunch. Their conversation wandered without awkward pauses, comfortable with each other. Her eyes caught on the earrings a few time and she'd give him a pleased smile like he'd done something to be proud of instead of indulged himself in something ridiculous.

He drove her home and when he stopped in her driveway, Dottie lingered a moment then said, "I'm really glad we did this together. I had a very good morning."

"It is a very nice tattoo."

"I know, but not just that," Dottie said and she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him a little. "Do you remember the first time we had lunch together?"

"Yes, of course. It was not that long ago."

It had been stiff and strange. Ilya had been acutely aware that he was on some kind of interview even though he had already signed the contract for the coaching job. She had been very kind to him though and coaxed him into ordering dessert with her. They had shared a piece of key lime pie, tart and clarifying.

"I was worried. Bren makes these leaps of faith in people and it's gotten his heart broken a time or two."

"Ah," Ilya said, "this I know."

With a grim nod, Dottie acknowledged what Ilya knew and dismissed it as unimportant. That man was a history best left in the recycling bin, well-shredded, in the Centaurs' back offices.

"But I knew as soon as I met you that he was right."

"I wanted to be what he saw," Ilya said softly. "It was nice to have someone believe in me like that."

"It was nice to have someone believe in Bren," she returned. "I mean, obviously I did, but it meant more coming from a player like you. Someone who understood the power of a good coach. We had no idea if he was going to make it, you know? College coaching and pro coaching aren't exactly the same animal. The league almost killed my husband's love of the game once. Giving them a second shot at him wasn't my favorite idea."

"They could not take that passion from him," Ilya said with a certainty he wasn't sure he had.

"Maybe," Dottie said. "But I met you and I thought 'all right, if he has Rozanov with him, maybe they'll make it'."

"You really thought that?"

"Yes," she said and gave his hand on the armrest a pat. "I did. Also I was worried sick about you. You looked exhausted all the time and too pale. These days, I don't worry at all. I'm happy to see my friend so happy."

"Dottie," he said and if it came out as a little bit of a whine, Ilya thought he was entitled.

"Don't worry, I don't think it's a very big secret that the great Ilya Rozanov is a softie."

"Ech." He tried to hide the smile on his face from her by turning away, but he didn't think it did much good. "Get out of my car."

"All right," she laughed at him, gave his hand a quick squeeze then popped the door. "Don't let those get infected!"

She closed the door and gave him a wave as she walked back up to her house. Ilya waited for her to get the door open, before pulling back out of the driveway. Her words nestled in his chest, warm and welcome, keeping him company on the drive home.

As soon as Ilya walked in the door, Anya was on him, prancing around in delight at his return. He took her right back out for a walk. That ate up another half hour. When he got home, he answered some email about the foundation which was rapidly coming together. They really would be able to get started with it this summer at this rate and Ilya was looking forward to it an almost unreasonable amount.

Shane still wasn't home, so Ilya threw himself down on the couch and picked up Shane's latest book. Ilya had taken to reading them on occasion, so they could talk about them. Sometimes they were actually too boring for Ilya to manage, but this one wasn't terrible. The Rebel League actually clarified a few things Ilya had always vaguely wondered about.

He'd almost made it to Shane's bookmark when the front door opened.

"I'm home!" Shane called out like Ilya couldn't already tell by the way Anya was running towards the door announcing his presence with a medley of happy barking.

"In here!" Ilya called.

Ilya had stopped greeting Shane at the door with the same level of enthusiasm as his dog after the first few months of Shane basically living with him. Mostly. As it was, he tossed the book back on the coffee table and got up to saunter towards his beloved rather than waiting on the couch.

"Let me see," Shane demanded before Ilya could even get a kiss hello.

"Rude," Ilya said, but submitted to inspection.

Hands came up to cup his neck, holding him still. Shane's eyes flicked back and forth. Did he hate them?

"This isn't fair," Shane announced.

"What?"

"You can't keep getting better looking, Ilyusha. I can only take so much," Shane said with a soft smile.

"I have to keep up with you, moyo solnyshko," Ilya said delighted. "You like them?"

"I love them," Shane said and kissed him. "Do you like them?"

"Yes. Very much. I did not even know I wanted them. Isn't that funny?"

"Story of our fucking lives," Shane said with a laugh, and then they were kissing again and Ilya forgot about his ears entirely for a bit.

It was only when they reemerged from the haze, idly planning dinner as they pulled on underwear and shorts, that Shane said, "Where did you get the earrings?"

"I had to choose from what they had," Ilya said. "The first ones have to be certain things, I think."

"When can you change them out?"

"Six weeks," Ilya recalled, then fished the card out of his wallet that Mel had given him, turning it over to Shane. "I have to take care of them. You can help."

"Fuck off, you decided this, you can take care of them."

Which was a lie, of course. That night, Shane bracketed Ilya against the bathroom sink and carefully cleaned around the site and rotated them like instructions suggested. His hands were freshly washed and his expression set like he was solving a complex riddle.

"I can do it," Ilya protested, only once.

"So? Let me do it, anyway."

Shane took care of Ilya's piercings in the morning and at night, but it never felt routine. Ilya was a little shaken each time by the care Shane took as if his determination alone would help Ilya would escape infection and heal appropriately.

It took three weeks before Ilya was brave enough to ask, "Is this because you weren't there?"

Shane didn't even have to ask him to clarify. He only weighed the question then said, "A little. I don't know what I would've done then, but I hope it would've been this. I hope you would've let me do this."

What would it have been like? Horrifying, a little. Shameful. Frightening. It had been bad enough that Sveta had seen him like that. To be witnessed at his weakest by Shane would've gutted Ilya, but maybe it also would've rebuilt him too. Having Shane's capable hands on him, doing what needed to be done was wonderful right now. Maybe it could have been then too.

It didn't matter. The past was the past.

"What is the rest?"

"I just like taking care of you," Shane said with a shrug and kissed his jaw, before tossing out cotton swab he'd been using. "Especially with your pretty new things making you even prettier."

"Not pretty," Ilya countered.

"Why not?" Shane asked. "You call me pretty all the time."

Ilya did do that. Shane was so very pretty with his long dark eyelashes and soft perfect lips. The graceful arch of his back called to Ilya all the time, begging for his hands.

"Because you are," Ilya said.

"So why can't you be too?" Shane asked and kissed the corner of Ilya's mouth. "You're beautiful. All the time. Sometimes, I think you're like one of those statues in museums, carved from marble."

Of course, Ilya picked him clean off the floor and carried him to bed. What else could one do in such a situation?

The weeks ticked by, but Ilya wasn't really counting them. His life was measured in games and practices, flights criss-crossing the continent, and nights with his fiance. As far as the piercings went, he'd gotten a flutter of positive comments from his players and friends in the first week or so and then they had simply become part of him.

The Centaurs comfortably secured a place in the playoffs and then got a well-deserved two days at home to prepare. Ilya and Shane had crashed out immediately upon reaching home, falling asleep at the bold hour of nine. It didn't surprise Ilya to wake up alone. Shane had likely popped up at six at the latest, his body's internal clock a ruthless dictator. One that Ilya refused to also be ruled by. Mostly. Sometimes. At least not on their rare days off during the season.

Today, Shane had let him sleep, so Ilya luxuriated under the covers for a few minutes, before the needs of his body got too loud. With a groan, he levered himself up to use the bathroom, then ambled towards the kitchen. Flipping on the electric kettle, he picked through the cupboards and decided on bran flakes for breakfast, making himself the bowl of cereal with oatmilk. He was still deeply unclear on how one milked an oat, but he accepted the slow disappearance of dairy from most areas of his home life. There was still ice cream in the freezer and the occasional appearance of cheese which was enough to appease him.

The kettle sang its little electronic notes to let Ilya know it was done. He opened the cabinet with all the boxes of herbal tea in it and once more thought I should organize this as he did most mornings, before picking something bragging about 'orange zest' and tossing the bag into the mug. He hadn't even bought himself half the boxes in the cabinet. Every time he and Shane had someone over for dinner these days, they brought a box of tea with them like an offering.

The worst part was how much Ilya had come to like it. The terrible hot grass water was a critical part of his daily routine and people remembering that never failed to make him feel good. He was fairly sure Jackie had given him this one.

Idly, Ilya texted her good morning and asked if she wanted to do lunch tomorrow. It was probably school run hour, so he'd hear back from her later, but better to do it while it was on his mind.

So that was what was running through his head as he sat down at the island. Tea, lunch plans, and bran flakes. Boring Canadian man has breakfast in his own home, call the press.

Somehow, Shane had conjured flowers again. Ilya was sure that Shane would tire of it or forget eventually, but apparently not today. They were a particularly vibrant batch this morning, a profusion of pinks and oranges. Idly, Ilya rubbed a petal between two fingers, enjoying the silky texture.

Ilya loved them. He'd loved all the flowers Shane had produced for him. It was such a wasteful, pointless thing, to have flowers in a vase in the kitchen. Their only purpose was for Ilya to admire. As his tea steeped, Ilya ate his cereal and looked at his flowers. It wasn't coffee, but it was the best substitution he could imagine.

He figured that was excuse enough for why he didn't initially notice the paper leaning up against the vase. It was only when he went to pick up his tea and his knuckles grazed against it that he spotted the humble white square with his name on it. When he picked it up, he found a small black box right behind it.

Wracking his memory, Ilya could think of no significance to the date. He turned the paper over, but it only had his name on it. Bemused, he set down the paper and picked up the box. Maybe their wedding bands? They were still discussing those, but it would be very like Shane to buy something just to see if they liked them on.

Ilya opened the box.

"Fuck me," he said under his breath.

The earrings were blindingly shiny, emerald cut sapphires easily two carets a piece and surrounded by small diamonds, set into yellow gold. They were knock out earrings, noticeable from space. The kind of thing you wore with a ballgown.

Ilya set them down carefully and stared at them as he drank his tea, trying to figure out what they were for. Maybe Shane intended them for Yuna or Rose or Svetlana and not Ilya at all.

No, Ilya dismissed that immediately. Shane had put his name on the paper. If he'd wanted Ilya to consult about a gift or simply show it before giving it, he would've said that. These were for Ilya. His earrings.

Ostentatious, loud, flashy earrings that must've cost thousands were the kind of purchase that Shane liked to research and weigh. How long had he looked for these? To what end?

Only one way to find out. Ilya ate the rest of his cereal quickly, finished his tea, then scooped up the box and headed for their home gym. Even on a rest day, Shane would still do cardio and his yoga routine. It was less about proving something these days and more to keep Shane rooted in his body and his routine. Ilya could hardly complain. It meant he always had company on his runs when he wanted it and Shane's yoga routine had personally benefited him greatly.

Today, it also made him easy to find. Shane was nearly done, sunk down on the yoga mat, bringing his breathing back to baseline. There was supposed to be some kind of meditation, but Shane had grudgingly admitted that he hated meditating while sitting still. So Shane's eyes were open when Ilya walked in and his attention snapped to the box in his hand.

"Good morning," Ilya said and bent at the waist to kiss him. Shane kissed him back.

"Good morning," Shane said. "You saw them."

"I did," Ilya agreed and sat down in front of him. "Explain."

"It's a present." Shane said. "What's to explain?"

"Shane," Ilya said and tapped the box once. "This is a very nice present. Why today?"

"Because you can switch out your earrings today," Shane said, matter-of-factly. "You don't have to use them, but it didn't seem like you got any other pairs and I thought you might want a choice."

"Thank you," Ilya said. "But these are very fancy, moyo solnyshko."

"I know," Shane said slowly, thrown by that. "So?"

"Are they for the wedding?" Ilya asked, now also thrown.

"They can be," Shane said. "But you can wear them whenever."

"Whenever," Ilya repeated. "I can wear sapphires and diamonds whenever?"

Wordlessly, Shane lifted up his hand, the ring Ilya had gotten him catching the light. Sapphires.

"Yes, but that is not so flashy," Ilya pointed out.

"I'm not as flashy as you and…" Shane trailed off and his eyes went down, studying the mat.

"I am not upset," Ilya said quickly. Sometimes Shane assumed Ilya's feelings at the oddest moments and in the least charitable way. "Just curious."

"You used to be kind of a peacock," Shane said reluctantly. "You still are sometimes. When we go out with Sveta or whatever. But most days you do your black on black and you look hot, it's not a complaint. I just don't really understand why it changed."

Of course, Ilya still showed off. He still loved flashy things, but he did wear them a lot less. There were fewer occasions for it, for one thing.

And for another….

Shane waited for him, quiet and tense as if Ilya might rip into him even though that wasn't something they did to each other anymore. The days of explosive temper and snarling had mellowed into these tense silences that those moments had carved in the bedrock of their relationship. It could not really be healed, only allowed to fill with cool water and remind them to guide their words around the deepest ravines.

"It is not my place to draw attention anymore," Ilya said. He hadn't ever thought about it in those terms. He'd simply shown up to his first Centaurs' practice in his black slacks, black t-shirt and black fleece because that was the only thing that had made sense to him to wear. "I'm not the star player. I have to stand back. Let them shine. Let you shine."

"Yeah, I thought it was something dumb like that," Shane said.

"Hey!" Ilya protested. "I am being vulnerable and open."

"You're being ridiculous," Shane said. "You're Ilya fucking Rozanov. You're not in mourning. Wear whatever you want, you can't outshine me no matter how hard you try."

"Fuck you, I can't," Ilya said immediately, then groaned. "I mean-"

"I know what you mean and I want you to mean it," Shane said. "I like what you wear, to be clear. It does look good at games and makes sense for practice. I just also want you to be you. And you're a flashy asshole."

"So you bought me flashy asshole earrings? To wear whenever?"

"Yes," Shane said. "Do we have a problem here or can I put those in for you?"

"You want to do it?"

"Of course. Always. It's going to be tricky for you to do it yourself, anyway."

It would be. Even on a good day, earrings were very small and the hole smaller. Ilya might manage it with his left hand, but it would take him a long time.

Opening the box again, Ilya admired the deep blue of the stones and then held it out to Shane.

"I love them," Ilya said because he realized he hadn't yet. "They match your ring, yes?"

"And your eyes," Shane said. "Stay still."

Getting to his knees, Shane shuffled closer with Ilya parting his legs to make room for him. Absently, Shane put two fingers under Ilya's chin to guide his face up. The gesture was small and it's very ease sent a shiver over Ilya's skin. How completely Shane had him now!

It was a good opening gambit to the intimacy that followed. Carefully, Shane figured out the backing of the gold square earrings. His shoulder was right by Ilya's mouth, revealed in his tank top, so Ilya pressed a small kiss to it as Shane worked. The removal of the earring didn't feel like much.

"Hand," Shane said and Ilya held it up for Shane to deposit the gold square into. Then he moved and did the other one, much faster this time, discarding it into Ilya's waiting palm.

"It looks okay?" Ilya checked.

"Yeah, they healed well, I think. No redness or anything."

"Good."

Shane picked up the box and drew out one of the sapphire earrings. He furrowed his brow a little, checking the backing and unscrewing it with care.

"Okay, I think I have this," Shane decided and Ilya relaxed. If Shane understood the mechanics then it would be simple. Unless Shane missed.

It didn't hurt and Shane didn't miss. It was simple. The nightly cleanings had had more sensation. Yet Ilya was acutely aware that this was Shane penetrating him. They were delving into each other in a new way, sliding pieces of metal through flesh.

"Wow," Shane said then grinned at him. "Okay, I'm going to do the other one than take a picture so you can see."

There were mirrors in their gym, big noticeable ones. Ilya only nodded. Shane could certainly take a picture of him. They could do that all the time now. It was actually getting to be a storage issue. Ilya was going to have to start paying more money to keep them all in the cloud wherever the fuck that was.

Shane was even less stingy about the naked ones these days because somehow, Ilya had gone through the darkness and come out blessed by some unseen force that thought he deserved nudes. Life was good.

After Shane slid the second earring home and placed the backing, he kissed his way from Ilya's ear to his lips, taking a detour of over his cheek and briefly at his nose. When Ilya wrapped his arms around him, Shane grinned against his lips, sliding a hand down Ilya's chest to snap the waistband of his shorts.

"Yeah?" Shane asked.

"Always," Ilya said.

The yoga mat had seen it all before. They stripped and rutted against each other, Shane on top, kissing Ilya with more intent then he had in chasing his orgasm. They fooled around, poking and teasing. Eventually, Ilya took them both in his hand, the constant dribble of Shane's abundant precome giving him enough lubrication to get them the last few needful strokes.

After, Shane folded his arms on Ilya's chest and rested his chin on them, their legs tangled together.

"What do you want to do with the day?" Ilya asked, drawing meaningless patterns over Shane's back with his fingertips.

"Meal prep," Shane said. "Then take a nap. Lunch. Dick around in the afternoon. Want to do dinner with my parents? They asked."

"Yes," Ilya said. "I will bring David the brussel sprouts."

"I was going to put them in my salad."

"You always say this when you buy them and you never do. We always throw them away. Give them to your papa, he actually likes them."

"Fine," Shane conceded. "I'll text them in a bit. I want to take a picture of you first."

"You want me to pose?" Ilya teased, "should I look sexier?"

"You're covered in come, best of luck," Shane snorted, then seemed to rethink that before Ilya could say anything. "Okay that is kind of sexy, but not what I'm going for."

"I'm yours," Ilya spread his arms out wide. "Go ahead."

It took a second for Shane to locate his phone, but then he really did direct Ilya a little.

Once the photo was taken, Shane ignored him entirely for a full minute, apparently adding filters and adjusting lighting. It was not something that Shane usually bothered with, but was startlingly good at when he did. Apparently he had some kind of training on it for social media that Yuna insisted on at same point.

"Okay, you can look."

Ilya pulled himself up. He studied the picture on Shane's phone with some surprise. It looked nothing like the gym selfies Ilya took or the professional photos he was still subjected to regularly. He had seen himself photographed a lot over the years, but this was different. The filters were golden and they softened his face. The angle must've done that too, removing some of the severity from his resting expression. His lips were slightly parted, his curls hopelessly disheveled, and the look in his eyes gave away exactly what he was thinking: I love you, you strange beautiful man, so much.

The earrings were both obnoxiously obvious and perfectly fitting. Ilya looked like a rich man's well-loved pet, recently fucked and dumb with it.

"Whoever you bought the earrings from should pay for this photo," Ilya determined. "Free advertising."

"That would mean someone else would have to see it," Shane said with an eye roll.

"Yes, we should post this," Ilya said. "I want everyone to know how good my fiance treats me. Look how pretty you make me."

"Really?" Shane sat back a little. "You do look really pretty. Can I?"

"Yes," Ilya said. "You can use this word in your caption too."

"Very generous," Shane said wryly, then bounced a kiss of Ilya's cheek. "Maybe I will. C'mon, I want to shower."

They cleaned up and followed Shane's sensible plan for the day. Meal prep, cozy couch nap, lunch, puttering around and keeping each other company until dinner. When they went over to David and Yuna's Ilya had had an unusual moment of self-consciousness right before they went in. Despite all their wealth, Yuna and David tended to simplicity in their personal presentations. Their clothes were nice, often quietly expensive, but they tended to the subdue. Until tonight, Ilya had blended in with them.

He stayed in Shane's wake, holding back a few steps as they went in, already trying to think of a joke to alleviate whatever judgment might be coming his way.

"In here!" Yuna called from the kitchen. "Shane, can you get down the blue serving dish? Ilya, can you get the wine glasses? David will be home in a minute."

"Hello to you too!" Shane called back and she laughed.

"Yes, sorry! Hello, boys!"

They set the table together, jockeying around each other like there wasn't enough space. By the time Yuna joined them with the salad bowl in her hands, Ilya had forgotten he was concerned at all.

"Oh! Ilya, those are gorgeous!" Yuna said with a few rapid blinks. "Where did you get them?"

"A gift," Ilya said. "From your son."

"Sweetheart," Yuna said with clear approval, "they're lovely. What was the occasion?"

Shane shrugged. "He didn't pick out anything new for himself and he's allowed to change them out now. I thought they were nice."

"Those are 'no reason' earrings?" Yuna checked. When Shane nodded, she smiled. "You two."

David didn't even notice them. Ilya adored his future father-in-law. Shane had gotten his hockey intensity from his mother, but David had given Shane his propensity to focus on the matter at hand to the exclusion of all else. Right now, David's attention was mostly on an audit at work and upcoming car maintenance. They discussed oil changes and ate dinner without any further comment on Ilya's new jewelry.

Shane drove them home, giving Ilya time to look at his phone. His left hand was in Shane's (the only way they rode in cars now), so he had his phone propped on his leg, so he could use his right hand to scroll. Shane really had posted the photo though it was a little more cropped than Ilya recalled. He could potentially be wearing a shirt now, the implication of nudity erased. The caption read @ilyarozanov pretty things for my pretty man.

It was a very un-Hollander post, breaking up his usual precise schedule of practice clips , photos of meals, and one selfie a month. A calibrated presence that was mostly managed by someone else.

There were hundreds of likes and comments already. Ilya didn't bother to read those. It was enough to know it was visible to the world. They were visible, engaged, besotted, and seen by the masses.

"What are you thinking about?" Shane asked idly.

In Ilya's next therapy session, he and Galina would pick through his internal motivations in that moment. Was it that he'd had the thought of penetration earlier? Was it Shane being tender? Ilya feeling seen? Some internal struggle with gender presentation being linked to other things?

Their dynamics in bed had grown nuanced and fluid over the past year. Yes, Ilya still often put Shane on his knees and put him through his paces to both their delight, but it was just as likely that Shane was pressing Ilya to the wall or issuing soft commands. They exchanged power easily, sometimes within the course of the same session, rolling around each other to thrust fingers into each other's mouths and slap cheeks (upper and lower). It had evolved without much discussion and a lot of mutual pleasure.

So why, in this moment, did Ilya respond to Shane's innocuous question with:

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Even with Galina's help, Ilya wasn't sure he'd ever unpick the knot of that moment. It just happened. To the credit of Shane's steel nerves, the car didn't swerve nor did it increase in speed. Shane's hand did go tighter around Ilya's though.

"We've had sex like three times today already," Shane said.

"Twice."

"Yeah, whatever. Ilya, of course I want to have sex with you."

"That is not what I asked."

Shane expelled a breath. "I know, I just- I never thought you wanted me to?"

"I think," Ilya said slowly, stepping through the minefield of his own brain, "that I want to try. I have not tried in many years."

"You've done it before?"

"Once," Ilya said with a wince. "I did not like it much, but it was a mess. Rushed. And I was too scared to relax."

"Was it bad? Were you-" Shane's alarm was touching, but misplaced.

"No, no," Ilya said quickly. "It was with Sasha, not a stranger. But we were a little drunk, somewhere we shouldn't be, and he had never done it before either."

Shane grimaced, "I've only done it once."

"With the mystery Hollywood man?" Ilya asked, the jealousy alive and well in his hindbrain. "Was it good?"

"No, not really," Shane sighed. "I don't know. Everything with him was very…okay? It was nice. Good. But it wasn't anything like being with you."

Ilya picked up their joined hands and kissed Shane's knuckles. "The same for me, you know. No one has been like you."

"You don't have to say that just because I did. I know you have a lot more experience."

"Not this kind," Ilya pointed out. "By now, we have had sex more times than I have with any other person."

"Not Sveta," Shane said.

"Even Sveta," Ilya corrected gently. "It was occasional with us, I've told you. A handful of times a year, maybe, and some years where we did not even see each other. You and I have had sex hundreds of times."

"Hundreds," Shane repeated. "Is that right?"

"Mmhm," Ilya said. "Since last January, we have had sex almost every day and sometimes more than once. Even if we do not count before, that is a least three hundred and fifty."

"That's a lot," Shane said, a smile twitching back onto his face, illuminated by another car passing them in the dark. "Probably closer to four hundred."

"Probably," Ilya agreed. "There is no one in my past that comes close to that. Even if they did, we have so many more years to go. We will reach thousands."

"We won't know when," Shane realized as if that was actually a little upsetting to him. "One day we'll have sex for the thousandth time and we won't know."

"Best to make each time special then," Ilya said, amused. "That way we will be celebrating no matter what."

"Do you want me to try topping you?" Shane asked, the segue back abrupt as always. It was like a roller coaster sometimes, conversing with Shane. Ilya loved roller coasters.

"I think so," Ilya said, a little more quietly than he intended. "I don't know. Yes?"

"Wow, that's some powerful enthusiastic consent," Shane said.

"Shut up," Ilya groaned. "I want to try. I just don't know if I'll like it and I don't want you to be upset. Or for me to get upset. It seems like a lot."

"You are a lot," Shane agreed. "Not really nine inches of a lot, but you know."

"Fuck off," Ilya said, delighted. "I am at least eight. Could be nine. You do not know for sure and I will never let you near me with a measuring tape."

"I could measure mine and do a quick comparison," Shane said.

"You could," Ilya allowed. "But why would you? It is much more fun to say that I am impressive."

"More fun for you."

"You like that you can take it," Ilya reminded him. "Makes you very impressive too."

"You just want to have Schrödinger's dick size."

"Why? How big was his dick?"

"I know you know that one. You used 'Schrödinger's Goal' as an insult a few weeks ago."

"I don't remember this. Must have been Bren."

"Stop that," Shane laughed. "None of this is helping."

"It is helping me a little. What if we tried tonight? Don't give ourselves too much time to think about it."

"Running in without a plan, my favorite."

"Shane," Ilya said, "you love sex without a plan. It is your favorite."

The denial started on Shane's lips then died immediately with a groan. "Maybe. A little."

"A lot," Ilya corrected. "The only time I try to plan sex with you was your first time and it took you two years to agree. So we say tonight, do tonight or we will both be forty by the time we do it."

"Shut the fuck up," Shane said weakly.

"You don't have to do anything," Ilya said. "You know this? If you hate the idea then that's fine."

"I don't hate it. I don't know if I'll be good at it."

"You are good at everything."

"That's a lie."

Shane turned down their street, the house coming faster than either of them were really ready for.

"I trust you," Ilya said. "That is the truth. Is that enough?"

"Yeah," Shane said. "I think so. I trust you too."

They got home and went through the motions of putting the house to sleep. Anya was taken out, the lights turned off, and teeth were brushed. When Ilya pointed Anya towards her bed in the hallway outside their bedroom door, she went with an annoyed huff. They'd let her back in later and she'd retake her spot with similar irritation. Ilya adored how it made her sound like Shane when he was in a very grumbly mood.

He determinedly did not think about what was waiting for him now. Ilya had faced down a lot of terrible moments in his life and this was certainly not one of them. At it's worst, sex with Shane was still amazing. If this didn't work then they would do something else and fall asleep relatively satisfied. No one was leaving or making it a fight. There was no blackout drunk assholes stampeding down the hallway at 3 am to make him and Sasha freeze up in fear until they heard the sound of retching.

Maybe not the memory to revisit. Ilya could feel himself tensing up.

Instead, he recounted today to himself: the gift, the easy sex that had followed, the photo Shane had taken, and the conversation it had led too. When he ducked back into the bedroom it was to find Shane sheepishly holding a candle.

"I was going to light a few, but I just remembered you're usually the one who does it because you have the lighter on you," he said.

Ilya smiled and took the candle out of his hand to set aside. He kissed him. "I don't need candles."

"It's romantic," Shane said.

"It is, but I do not need to be romanced. I need you naked and pressed to me. We will figure the rest out."

Shane shook his head, "You shouldn't be reassuring me. You did all that once already."

"You think I was not nervous?" Ilya asked.

"You didn't act nervous," Shane said and he must've taken Ilya at his word a little because he was also taking off his shirt. "You were so confident."

"I was very nervous," Ilya admitted to him, taking his shirt off too. "I wanted it for so long and you were so jumpy, I thought I would fuck it up before we got a chance to get into bed."

"You chirped at me the whole time."

"Yes, because it made you relax," Ilya said, reaching out to help Shane out of his pants. "Also, I'm an asshole."

"You are," Shane agreed. "You were also really great and you made me feel amazing."

"Same," Ilya said and kissed his thigh.

"The way you kissed me goodbye that night stayed with me for a long time."

That kiss on the stairs had been terrible for Ilya, a mistake he absolutely knew he was making as it was happening, yet was powerless to stop. It replayed over and over every time Shane texted him, getting increasingly annoyed at his silence. If Shane had looked any less soft and tempting, Ilya would never have done it. That first crack in his isolated armor would never have been made and maybe they wouldn't be here at all.

"Me too," Ilya breathed out. "A very good kiss. We do it better now though."

"Much better," Shane agreed. "Bed?"

Clothes in the hamper, they tumbled onto the bed still kissing. What good was armor when this is what it was protecting you from?

They made out for a long time, before Shane reached for the lube. This part they had done before. Ilya had no objections to a little prostate stimulation with a blowjob and his intrepid lover had figured that out all on his own months ago. There had even been a little playful rimming which had been delightful, but only come up a time or two.

Tonight, Shane paused and studied Ilya's face. "Fingers or tongue? Or…I don't know. Toy?"

"Fingers," Ilya decided. "I like when you lick me, but it is also a little funny? Not funny. Like.." He waggled his fingers a little.

"Ticklish," Shane determined.

"Yes, ticklish," Ilya said, savoring the word. That always made Shane smile.

"Only you would have a ticklish asshole," Shane said.

They always had a towel near the bed these days, for when things got a bit messy and Shane grabbed that too, giving Ilya's ass an idle slap to encourage him to raise his hips. Thus protected, Shane apparently felt comfortable using what felt like half the bottle of lube on his fingers, dripping it everywhere.

"We will slide off the bed," Ilya said.

"More is always better, shut up," Shane said.

"I know I was nicer about this part," Ilya huffed at him.

"You were a dick before and after. Don't get too excited."

"I think you want me excited," Ilya said. "Unless this is a new secret kink? You want me to be a dead fish?"

"You're impossible," Shane said and started rubbing one finger over Ilya's hole. "Dead fish. You couldn't be quiet for two minutes in a row while we're having sex, let alone stay still."

"I could!" Ilya protested.

"Sure," Shane said and kissed his knee, finger pressing in a little. Ilya shifted then relaxed around the intrusion. "You'd make it thirty seconds and then find an excuse to say something, then come up with reasons why it shouldn't count."

"I think I do not like how well you know me."

"Your fault. You let me move in and now we're going to get married about it," Shane said. "Okay?"

"Okay," Ilya confirmed. "We need to set a date."

"Right now?" Shane asked mildly.

He slid his finger in further until it brushed over Ilya's prostate and his gut did that weird swoopy liquefying thing. It felt amazing. It always did, even in the rare times he'd done it to himself (not recently, not for years, the idea of further injuring himself masturbating a low he was not willing to risk).

"Mm, maybe later," Ilya breathed out.

Shane leaned down to kiss him which was a distraction, but a very pleasant one, so Ilya let him do it while he cautiously pulled out and came back with two fingers. It was hard to concentrate on relaxing, the oxymoron of feelings at war with each other, but Ilya tried his best. There had been times, years ago, when coaxing Shane open had been a real procedure. Ilya had enjoyed playing that patient game. Reenacting it now from this side seemed far less appealing.

Luckily, his Shane had a saint's patience and a donkey's stubbornness when he set himself at something. He took his time and a ridiculous amount of lube until he was sliding two fingers into Ilya. It was a stretch, but not an unpleasant one. Ilya breathed through it and captured Shane's other hand so he could suck on his fingers. An even better distraction as Shane's own breathing stuttered over it.

"You're really tight," Shane said. "Does it hurt?"

Ilya had to let his prize go to say, "No. I don't know if I like it, but it doesn't hurt."

"I love this part," Shane said, his freed hand resting on Ilya's chest, rubbing a little right over his heart. "Love when you get your fingers in me. It's like you know exactly where I want to be touched most."

"I do. Lots of studying. I am a professional now. A professor."

"Oh yeah?" Shane grinned. "Ph,D and all?"

"Yes, a doctorate in making you come."

"It does feel professional," Shane laughed and slowly started moving his hand. It made Ilya want to bite him and he wasn't sure if that was in a good way or not yet. "I literally can't look down or I'm going to lose it, actually. This is really hot, Ilyusha."

"You've done this before," Ilya reminded him. "One finger, maybe."

"I wasn't watching or thinking about what else we might do," Shane corrected. "This is insane. No wonder your eyes are glued to my ass when we get started."

"I like to watch," Ilya agreed then made an aborted moan as Shane brushed his prostate again. "Fuck."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"I like watching you watch. You get so serious about it. Focused."

"It is very serious. Nothing is more serious to me than fucking you," Ilya said earnestly. "It is a very big privilege. Like the cup, but for fucking."

"You're insane," Shane said like that was news. "Okay, logistics question."

"Hollander, no."

"Yes, Rozanov, it's applicable."

"Fuck, fine, what?"

"I'm not an imaginary nine inches, so do you need three fingers or is two going to cut it? I like three, but you might not. Fingers feel different than a cock, more rigid," Shane said, all very straightforward and clear.

Sometimes, Ilya wondered if loving Shane caused some kind of permanent brain damage that made a person think that kind of delivery was the hottest thing since the invention of fire.

"Two is okay," Ilya decided, probably incorrectly, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to try three and he did want to try Shane fucking him.

"Okay. While we're on logistics," Shane said, sliding his fingers slowly in and out of Ilya like he wasn't fully cognizant of it, "you want to stay like this or get on your stomach? It's easier on your stomach, less bending and you're not as flexible as I am."

"You have not complained about my flexibility before," Ilya said, pleased that his voice stayed even. He did not feel even. "But I will get on my stomach."

"Okay, good," Shane said and kissed him, working his hand in and out of him. "This is fucking wild. I feel like Alice in Wonderland or something."

"What?" Ilya demanded. "Is this a porno?"

"I know you know Alice too, asshole. You and the Cheshire cat are probably related. Cousins or something."

"I am not a cat," Ilya protested, then groaned as Shane got a little deeper. "Fuck."

"Was that a meow?"

How was this his life?

"I will fucking bite you."

"Oh no," Shane said and crooked his fingers a little. "Not that."

"Fuuuck, Shane…"

"Okay?"

"Okay. I think I want to try now."

Shane nodded, pulling out carefully. It did leave Ilya a little empty and he could only think of Shane's consternation every time Ilya pulled away from prep to get more lube or to slick his cock. He understood it a little better now.

Rolling over and getting on his hands and knees was definitely novel and only a little uncomfortable. Shane had seen Ilya every which way at this point and Ilya wasn't much for bodily shame to begin with. He flexed his right hand against the sheets, then slid down onto his elbows. It would likely hold him for as long as needed, but this was a better angle anyway, so why risk it?

"Woah," Shane said. "That is…wow."

"What?" Ilya asked, peeking over his shoulder and winking at him. "My ass is still very good, hm?"

"You know it is, you fucking showoff," Shane said, palming Ilya's ass, digging his fingers in a little which was very familiar and welcome. "I like this angle."

"Mm, it is very very good."

"Condom?"

Good question. Ilya weighed it for roughly a microsecond. "No."

"You might not like the mess."

"If we only try this once, I want to feel you," Ilya said.

"No pressure," Shane said as he reached for the lube. Ilya really was going to be able to use their bed as a slip and slide by the time Shane was done with him. "Only once. Jesus, Ilya."

"You might not like it."

"You might not like it."

"Yes. So. Maybe only once. Which is okay."

It wasn't a question, but it must have sounded like one because Shane paused to rub Ilya's back with his less lubed up hand.

"Very okay. I like what we do. I'm not missing anything."

"Me too," Ilya said, hiding a smile in his crossed arms. "But this could be good too. We'll see."

Shane actually went on rubbing Ilya's back which was nice, even at this angle. He kept on doing it even as he slicked himself, poured a little more lube down Ilya's crack, and lined himself up.

"Okay?" Shane asked.

The warm blunt head of Shane's cock, regularly and beloved-ly felt nudging it's way into Ilya's palm or mouth, felt suddenly foreign. Ilya breathed out.

"Okay," he said.

"I'm nervous," Shane admitted. "I haven't been good at this. Historically."

"Historically you were fucking women you did not want to fuck and one man you were not so sure about," Ilya reminded him. "You have this. Go slow. I will tell you if it is no good. Okay?"

"Okay," Shane said and leaned down to kiss Ilya's back before he straightened again.

The intrusion was not at all like fingers, Shane had been right about that. All Ilya could remember from the last time was how much Sasha had been shaking, both from nerves and from the cold. The heat had been turned off in the house their pack of friends had claimed for the party. Even Sasha's cock had been chilled, like getting an icicle slowly shoved inside him. Too young, too cold, too stupid to be experimenting with what they had gotten up to, not just in the stolen bed, but in the whole stolen house and the whole very stupid year.

Very different from this trust and love built between two grown men in a house they lived in together that had never been anything other than invitingly warmed.

Which was all very nice, but a cock in your ass was still a cock in your ass and Ilya breathed out the same punched out breath that a shivering kid in a creaking bed had years and an ocean away.

"I've got you," Shane murmured, hand landing between Ilya's shoulder blades.

"I know," Ilya said.

"The first time we did this, you told me it would fit. You remember?"

"I do," Ilya said with an annoyed huff at his past self. "Obnoxious. Even if I was right."

"I thought it was hot," Shane said and Ilya didn't have to see his grin to hear it. That relaxed him a fraction. Shane was having a good time. That was good. "I'm pretty sure you could've said a lot worse and I still would've thought it was hot."

"Same," Ilya admitted. "You were so stiff and so ridiculous and every word you said made me harder."

"You waited two years for it."

"I would have waited more."

They both knew that now. Fundamentally. With Ilya's patience and Shane's stubbornness, they could survive anything, even being apart. Even flipping their well-worn script.

Shane pressed closer and it didn't hurt exactly, but it was uncomfortable in a way Ilya couldn't quite process. He'd spent a lot of his life uncomfortable though. He knew how to breathe through it.

"Okay?" Shane checked as his hips came flush with Ilya's ass. He liked that part. The press of them together was good.

"Okay," Ilya said. "Maybe stay, just a second?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Shane said and proceeded to litter Ilya's back with soft kisses. A learned habit? Ilya did that to Shane sometimes. Or maybe a natural instinct. It was good, whichever it was.

Ilya breathed and categorized. He was full in a new strange way. Shane was hot and hard in him, immovable and challenging. But Shane was also pressed against him, warm and present and loving on him. It was weird and not quite sexy, but not terrible.

"I'm good," he decided.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Hollander, I am not dying on your cock. You can move. Slow, maybe."

"I wasn't planning on going fast," Shane said.

He only moved a little, an incremental pulling away and return. It punched out Ilya's lungs anyway. Shane adjusted something, his body weight redistributing then he did it again.

"Fuck!" Ilya moaned as Shane nailed his prostate. Of course he had. Fluent. Perfect. Always.

"Holy shit," Shane said with a matching moan. "You just like…clamped down. Is that what that feels like?"

"Yes? I think. You hold me like this and it is beautiful, " Ilya said, not entirely paying attention what he was saying anymore. "Again?"

Shane did it again and Ilya was a little more prepared. It still cracked through him, but less like lightening and more like thunder. The third time, Shane got a little bolder and that was actually a little uncomfortable.

"Slower, moyo solnyshko."

"Sorry, sorry," Shane said softly and kissed his back again.

He slowed, shallow short strokes and Ilya sank into it a little. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but it was also beautiful and electric. Shane's hands were sure where his rhythm stuttered.

Ilya lapsed into Russian, praising Shane quietly and encouraging him, sure that Shane's grasp of Ilya's mothertongue was steady enough these days to catch it.

When Shane started talking back to him in Russian, calling him all sorts of very nice things, Ilya relaxed another notch and it got a little easier.

"You can go faster," he said after who knew how long.

"I can't," Shane said.

"You can," Ilya said. "I am okay now."

"No, Ilyusha, if I go faster, it'll be over."

"That's good," Ilya said. "Come inside me, Shane. I want to know what that feels like too."

Shane didn't pound into him like Ilya had done to him all those years ago. Ilya didn't regret that, Shane had been eager for it, meeting each thrust with a firm push back, but Ilya wasn't sure he would do well with a return to sender on it. Instead, Shane's capable broad hands that Ilya loved to have on every part of him, smoothed a pathway down Ilya's spine. He touched Ilya with reverence as he moved into the kind of circular smooth fuck that Ilya loved in the early hours of the day.

For the first time since this started, Ilya was genuinely fully turned on. It was less the sensation, though that was good and getting less uncomfortable by the second, and more the sounds. The wet squelch, Shane's breathy little moans and the creak of the bed triggered a thousand good memories. Experimentally, Ilya pressed back into one of Shane's strokes and was rewarded by a slightly louder, less contained moan. Shane really was on the brink.

It would probably be a good idea for one of them to touch Ilya's cock at some point, but Ilya wasn't sure he could without crashing to the mattress at a bad moment and Shane's control seemed to be rapidly fraying.

Only one thing for it.

"Come for me," Ilya demanded.

The tone brooked no argument and it generally worked on Shane the way a hot knife went through butter. Tonight was no exception and Shane came hard, his hands digging into Ilya a little, his nails biting at him. Now that was an unambiguously good feeling.

There was a change of temperature inside Ilya, a recognition that something hot had entered him and there was a lot of charm to that. Sexy in a way, even as Shane went a little heavy against him and very slowly pulled out. Then it was really more unpleasantly wet.

"Fuck, Ilya," Shane said. "Turn over."

Ilya obeyed, narrowly missing kicking Shane in the side when he discovered the man hadn't moved out from between his legs. Before he could make a joke of it, Shane was on him, sucking his cock down like a starving man. Or just like Shane in general. The embrace of slick heat turned Ilya's spine to jello.

He reached down to cup the back of Shane's head and lost himself in Shane's mouth. Just when he was getting close, Shane nudged a hand between Ilya's legs and easily slotted two fingers back into Ilya's hole, then fucked into him at the exact right angle like the fucking demon he was.

"Shane!" Ilya said, then came so hard that black spots swam in front of his eyes.

"Hi," Shane said a few second later, hovering over Ilya with a shit-eating grin on.

"Hello," Ilya mumbled. "Murderer."

Shane laughed and leaned down to kiss him, then lay down to tuck in against him. The critical post-fuck cuddle got started and Ilya's eyes closed so he could relish it. His body was reporting a lot of confusion on the general state of things, but a definite thumbs up to the conclusion.

"I don't know how I felt about that," Shane said eventually.

"I don't either," Ilya said. "I think we need some practice."

"Would you want to practice?"

Ilya turned on his side so he could see Shane's face properly.

"I like knowing I can do it. That you can do it. It's good to have options, I think. But I like what we do usually too. I could very easily live without it. You?"

"Same," Shane said with a small smile. "I think I'd like it better if I could see your face. Would that be okay if we tried it again?"

"Ah, what happened to your insults to my bendiness?"

"Start doing yoga with me," Shane said. "We'll get you there."

"All right," Ilya said.

"Wait. What? Really?" Shane's voice pitched up. "But you told me you'd rather eat glass."

"You asked at four am. I would rather eat glass than be up at four am most days."

"Okay. Fair. I didn't even want to be up at four am that was insomnia," Shane allowed. "But you don't have to do it just for sex."

"Shane, my love, what the fuck else would I do it for?"

"You know what, good point," Shane allowed. "Okay. So yoga. We'll try it face-to-face next time and see if we like that better. And if not we just…don't?"

"I think so," Ilya said.

"This really feels like it should be more dramatic," Shane said. "Like, we had a first time together. I thought we were out of those."

"I can think of some new firsts if you would like something more dramatic," Ilya teased, reaching for Shane's leg to pull it over his own so they could slot in closer. His ass twinged, informing him of some new kind of soreness that he was going to ignore for now.

"Come on," Shane rolled his eyes, obediently scooting in so their noses were only a few inches apart. "Name one."

"Sounding," Ilya said immediately.

"What's that?" Shane asked. "Don't put shit in my ears."

"Wrong hole," Ilya said, his grin turning wolfish. "Metal rods in your pretty cock."

"What? No," Shane said quickly. "Oh god. Why? People like that?"

"You like when I put my tongue there."

"That's different! It's like a little bit and not like…really?"

"Really. You must be careful. Make everything clean and sterile. I would use gloves."

"Gloves," Shane repeated. "Latex ones?"

"Mhm. Very careful and slow."

"Have you ever done it before?"

"No. It was in a porn I watched a few months ago and then I read about it because I thought you might like it."

"When were you- never mind. Sounding. Okay. I'll google it," Shane decided. "But I'm going to say no for now."

"Of course," Ilya said, already planning on buying a kit. That had been a very fast turnaround for Shane, so he was definitely intrigued. "See? Still many firsts."

"How are you feeling? Shit, I should've asked that like five minutes ago," Shane said with a wince.

"I'm okay," Ilya assured him and reached out to cup his cheek. "I liked parts of it. I like being so close to you. I like the fingers at the end very much."

"I could tell," Shane said, turning his head to kiss Ilya's palm. "You know what else we haven't done? I never did let you lick my eyeball."

The love Ilya felt for this man should not be allowed to get bigger. Yet it did. All the time. It had long ago escaped the bounds of Ilya's person to fill entire rooms. It was amazing Shane could breathe with how much it had expanded tonight.

"You would let me?" Ilya asked.

"Yeah, I think so. In the shower, so I can rinse it out right after. It's going to feel really fucking weird, I bet."

"Yes, definitely," Ilya said, his grin now edging into completly unhinged. "You want to do it back?"

"Do I want to lick your eyeball? No, Ilyusha," Shane said. "That's gross."

"You will," Ilya announced. "I will do it to you and you will get curious eventually. We just proved this."

"It took us a decade for this."

"So in eleven more years you will lick my eyeball. Simple."

"That is not simple," Shane said. "Why are you like this?"

"Many reasons," Ilya said and started to dot kisses over Shane's freckles. "You are half of them. Take some responsibility for your actions, Hollander."

"No," Shane said in a very good Ilya impression. Asshole.

The towel went into the laundry eventually and Shane got them both into the shower, where he very tenderly washed Ilya off.

"I should have done this for you," Ilya said under the hot spray. "The first time."

"I wouldn't have let you," Shane said from the squat he was holding with ease, so he could wipe away the last dribbles of his come. "Anyway, you used a condom. It wasn't this messy."

"I think that was my favorite part of tonight," Ilya said. "You coming in me."

"I can just come on your face if you like that part so much."

"Maybe my chest," Ilya said. "Your aim is shit, you'll get come in my eyes."

"You're an asshole," Shane said and went on treating him like he was made of spun sugar. It was nice. Not something Ilya would want regularly, but it made him feel precious and loved right now.

In the steamed up mirror, Ilya caught sight of his new earrings again as they brushed their teeth. They were only a flash of blue and white light, brilliant declarations in the pale blur of his face. Beside him, in a more subdue and beautiful tan splotch, Shane brushed his teeth with the diligent attention of a man who partially made his living on keeping them bright and white. There was a beloved dichotomy to Ilya's fiance, this man who had to smile pretty for part of his job, then run around on knives tempting other men to knock his teeth out for the rest of it. Shane Hollander, a study in contradictions.

"We can swap them for the gold ones before the flight out on Monday," Shane offered, following Ilya's gaze. "If it's too much."

"No," Ilya decided. "I love them. They stay."

"Okay," Shane said and bumped his shoulder to Ilya's. "Good."

If Ilya was a little sore the next day, it barely registered on his broken pain scale. When he met Jackie for lunch, she was distracted initially, handing Amber over to him as she fished in her purse to find a lost lip balm. So it was Amber who saw the earrings first. She made a grab for them and Ilya had to catch her small hands to stop her. She decided it was a game and they had a back and forth that left Ilya laughing.

Ilya's adoration for his youngest self-appointed niece could not be overstated. She was the best baby he had ever met, full of smiles and laughter. Obviously, she was very smart and sweet too.

That first time Jade had called him Uncle Ilya, he might have spent a very small, barely noticeable, amount of time in the Pike's half-bath crying as quietly as he could manage. Ilya had never been allowed much time with Alexei's daughter, but he had loved her unconditionally as soon as he knew of her arrival into the world.

Katya was the same age as Jade and Ruby now, but Ilya doubted he would ever hear her voice again. She had not called him dyadya the few times he had met her. It wasn't clear if anyone had ever bothered to tell her who Ilya was or if it was only that she was too young to remember the man that only appeared for a few weeks every summer. By now, he must be erased entirely from her memory.

He had not lost her because he had never truly had her, but he still thought of her often. Every year, he tucked a little more money away in her trust, the only time sending money to Russia had felt like something he did for love instead of obligation.

Galina said it wasn't unhealthy to transfer some of that denied affection to the Pike children as long as he treated them as their own people. So Ilya felt no guilt in making a fuss over Amber, who might grow up never knowing a life without Uncle Ilya.

"Ya," Amber said seriously, giving up at last on his ears. "Doggie?"

"Not today, malyshka," Ilya said. "I will bring her next time. I do have a book for you."

"Book?" She asked with some interest.

"Yes, I got bored when Uncle Shane went into the bookstore, but I saw they had whole shelves of books for babies and look what I found!"

He produced the board book with a very cute cartoon dog on the cover.

"Oh, I love that one," Jackie said, finally producing the lip balm with a happy sigh. "Sorry, I can't believe my lips are still so chapped. Isn't it supposed to be spring?"

"That is the rumor," Ilya agreed, letting Amber take the book. She put a corner of it in her mouth to chew on and he let her when Jackie made no move to stop her either.

"Ilya!" Jackie said. "Your earrings!"

"Ah, yes. You like them?" Ilya asked.

"They're gorgeous!"

"Shane bought them for me," he said and he realized exactly how he sounded as soon as the words were out. Bragging. He was bragging about being indulged by his partner. It felt fucking amazing.

"What was the occasion?" She asked.

"None," Ilya said with relish.

"Lucky boy," Jackie said with a small laugh. "Hayden will be jealous."

"Why? Does Pike want earrings?" Ilya asked. "I can do this. Give me a needle and some ice."

"Stop!" She protested weakly. "No, I won't let him buy me jewelry. I never liked wearing it much. Takes away a whole easy category of gifts."

That did make a little more sense. "He can buy it for Joey. They will wear pretty things, I think."

"Good idea," she said, a faint blush still rising up just by invoking the name of her lover. It was very sweet. "They would like a necklace or a bracelet. Their birthday is coming up. But maybe we should take a page out of Shane's book and do a 'just because'."

Their conversation turned to other things. Jackie was planning a dinner party for some of the WAGs while the team was traveling and it was fun to help plan even if Ilya wouldn't be involved in the event. When Amber got fussy with being ignored, Ilya read the book to her so Jackie could eat in peace.

"Where's Spot?" Ilya asked her, then flipped up the tiny cardboard flap to show her the inside of the toy chest. "There is Spot!"

"Spa!" Amber said and pointed at the yellow dog because she was a baby genius.

When the meal wound down and Amber started to get a little cranky, Jackie packed everything back into the stroller and held her hands out for her child. Ilya returned her and got up to stretch, then went to hand the book to her.

"You should keep it," Jackie said. "It's good to have a few special things at your house so she knows they're there when she visits her uncles."

"Okay," Ilya said like he wasn't having fifteen emotions at one time. Jackie Pike was a dangerous woman.

"Bye, Ilya," she said and gave him a distracted kiss on the cheek as Amber's fussing got louder. "Good luck tomorrow. We'll be in the stands when you boys come home to play."

"Bye, Jackie. Good bye, malyshka."

He was heading to his car when a text came through.

 

Sveta: New jewelry and you did not tell me? I am offended.

Ilya: I only got them yesterday.

Sveta: You look very happy in this picture. Suspiciously happy. Did you get your very nice Canadian partner to post a well-fucked picture?

Ilya: He took it! I had very little to do with it. Only had to lay there and take it.

Sveta: I don't even know you anymore. I love it. You look very ready for playoffs.

Ilya: I think we are very ready. I can taste it.

Sveta: Do not tell me about what you're tasting. Who knows where your mouth has been?

Ilya: I was having lunch with an actual baby. My mouth has been nothing, but appropriate.

Sveta: For an hour, maybe.

Ilya: Jealous.

Sveta: Why would I be jealous? I already have a man in my life that buys me nice jewelry when I want.

 

Which was true. Ilya did buy her jewelry for her all the time. The thought sat with him as he drove home. He went looking for Shane as soon as he walked in the door and found him in his armchair in the living room, reading something on his laptop with his glasses on. When Ilya stood behind him, Shane tilted his head back expectantly, so Ilya kissed him upside down, then glanced at his screen.

"You found someone?" Ilya asked.

"I'm getting bids," Shane said. "They all have impressive portfolios. When I have it narrowed down to two or three, I'll send them to you and you can make the final call. Fair?"

"Very," Ilya said. "But we can decide together. Still this summer? We already have one wedding to worry about in July, then the camps."

"What if we did late August?" Shane asked. "After the camps, then we can still have a week at the cottage."

"Good. We will be married before next season," Ilya said with some delight. "First husbands of hockey."

"I like the sound of that," Shane said. "How was lunch?"

"Good. I talked to Sveta a little too. She is also good."

"Did she mention Rose?" Shane asked with a wry smile.

"Not yet. We are being very good, moyo solnyshko. They should give us a prize for being so quiet."

"You think?" Shane laughed. "I was thinking we owe them like five more years of silence at least, all things considered."

"No, I think a prize for even six months."

"It hasn't been six months yet. Be patient, Ilyusha."

"Boring," Ilya said, reached down and plucked the laptop off Shane's lap before he registered he was under attack.

Ilya set it aside carefully then went over the back of the armchair to land in Shane's lap himself.

"You're heavy," Shane complained, even as he rearranged Ilya's limbs to his satisfaction before pulling him in close. "Hi."

"Hello," Ilya said, beaming at him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Shane said and kissed him again, right side up this time. "What's up?"

"No one has ever bought me something pretty before only because they thought I should have it," Ilya said. "I did not even know that was something I wanted. I love it. Will you get me new earrings for our wedding too?"

"Yes," Shane said without missing a beat. "I want to."

"Good. I will wear whatever you pick out."

"Really?"

"Really. You let me choose your clothes. You can choose my earrings. Every morning if you want."

Shane held him a little tighter and Ilya dropped his head to Shane's shoulder.

"Deal," Shane said.

"Deal," Ilya agreed.

At this rate, Ilya had no idea what their vows would sound like. They had already promised each other everything important. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe the vows were like this run for the Cup. Not strictly necessary to prove anything, but deeply desired any way as a performance witnessed by the people they loved.

August couldn't come fast enough.