Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Autistic Shane Hollander, Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), inspired by when shane kneels in front of ilya to calm himself down after his dad sees them kissing, Subspace, Kind Of, Dom/sub Undertones, Anxious Shane Hollander, Caring Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander's Freckles, Shane Hollander's Freckles, Character Study, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Soft Ilya Rozanov, Soft Shane Hollander, the trust inherent to kneeling for someone, Short & Sweet, Kneeling, teen rating because theres mentions of sex but i dont think its enough for mature, Non-Sexual Submission, again kind of, Canon Compliant, To the Show

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-27 Words: 1,103 Chapters: 1/1

shed some light on me, please

Summary

Being around Ilya is good—better than nearly any other time, because he knows Shane better than anybody else. He can belong around Ilya. He belongs to Ilya, in a way, and Ilya belongs to him.

Shane likes to express that belonging in unconventional ways. Most of all, he loves being on his knees for him.

Notes

title from my moon my man by feist :)

Shane knows that he can be neurotic at times.

He’s sort of an anxious person, just by nature, but he likes to think that he doesn’t let it get out of hand. He has a lot of good reasons to be anxious most of the time, after all—given the fact that he’s gay, closeted, and in a very secret, long-term relationship with his rival. Add on to that the responsibility that comes with being a pro athlete in general, let alone the captain of one of the best MLH teams, and, well. Shane has his justifications for being neurotic. He’s good at staying on top of it.

Though, he can’t say it’s not exhausting. He’s almost always on edge, especially when it comes to the possibility of being outed as gay, and even more so when it comes to the possibility of anybody finding out about Ilya.

Shane loves Ilya so much it sometimes feels like he’s drowning in it. He loves Ilya’s hair, and his eyes, and his mouth, especially when it curves into that challenging, smug smirk that always gets Shane all fired up and ready to fight, if they’re on the ice, and do… other things, if they’re at home. He loves Ilya’s dumb jokes, and his teasing, and his stupid bear tattoo. He loves it when Ilya cooks for him, and how he always has ginger ale for him. He loves their very, very active sex life and how well Ilya can take him apart and put him back together like it’s nothing. It’s everything. He loves looking at Ilya and always catching him looking back. He can’t imagine losing him—it would kill him. But he can’t stand keeping him a secret, either.

It feels like such a massive barrier between himself and his friends, his team—they can’t really know him without knowing what Ilya means to him. Shane can’t fit himself into the spot in their minds meant only for him, because the other half of his heart is always missing, and he’s left untethered, adrift; he can’t stop missing him, but he can’t tell anybody either. He loves his friends, but sometimes being around them feels viscerally wrong—partially because of the guilt he feels, keeping so much of himself a secret for so long, but also because he doesn’t know what they would think of him if they did know. If they would accept him. If they would accept the part of him that is Ilya.

Not belonging is a feeling that Shane is intensely familiar with. Growing up as one of the only Asian kids in his school, then one of the only Asian players in the MLH, he knows what it is to be lonely in a room full of people who are meant to be your peers. It’s a little different to feel ostracized for something about you that isn’t even known by the people around you, but no less isolating. So Shane is anxious most of the time.

Being around Ilya is good—better than nearly any other time, because he knows Shane better than anybody else. Maybe better than Shane knows himself, even. And Ilya loves him just as fiercely as he loves Ilya. He can belong around Ilya. He belongs to Ilya, in a way, and Ilya belongs to him.

Shane likes to express that belonging in unconventional ways. It’s a little embarrassing—he has yet to unlearn a lot of shame related to his odd quirks, of which there are many. When he was little, he used to love hiding in the back of his closet, curled into a little ball. Surrounded by darkness and quiet and the comforting pressure of the walls enclosing him, he felt safer than anywhere else. He could drift, but stay tethered, held.

As an adult, he has found new ways to be tethered. His hockey gear is heavy and it settles him, pulls him down to Earth so he can fly across the ice. With Ilya, the weight of his palm on the back of his neck and the gentle press of his fingers around it have always made him feel held and let his brain go a little fuzzy. He loves it when Ilya is on top of him, a solid weight pushing him down into the couch, mattress, floor, whatever, making the constant buzz of anxiety in the back of his head go almost completely silent, the space filled instead with Ilya: warmth, safety, pleasure, the honey golden giddiness of love.

Most of all, Shane loves being on his knees for Ilya. He loves the vulnerability of it—yes, in a sex setting, of course, but more recently he’s weirdly found a lot of peace in the trust inherent to the gesture of kneeling for someone.

They’re in the cottage, and Shane’s on the floor in front of Ilya on the couch, resting his head on his inner thigh. His eyes are shut, and he’s enclosed by the press of Ilya’s thighs around his ears and the weight of his hand running through his hair. The thrum of anxiety has lessened—he’s floating, the gentle shush of the lake and the birds calling outside and the low murmur of the TV all melting into the background. His world has shrunk to just the space between Ilya’s legs in which he currently resides, his breath coming out in slow, gentle puffs towards the floor.

His head, normally so full of dozens of different trains of thought all running at the same time, is blissfully empty, distantly processing the things around him but not focusing on them, rather letting them slip by without fanfare. Ilya’s nails gently scraping his scalp provide a sort of physical white noise, just enough textural interference to satisfy his senses so they don’t have to focus on anything else.

He wholeheartedly trusts Ilya, his tether, to hold him as he drifts. And he does.

Later, Ilya guides him back into the present by pulling him up to the couch with him and gently tracing the lines of his face. He waits for his eyes to open and smiles when he sees Shane blink and focus on him. He murmurs sweet nothings at him and brushes his fingertips across Shane’s freckles, almost reverent.

He says, thank you for trusting me, you were so good, so perfect. I love you.

Shane feels settled, centered like he never has before. He echoes, I love you, and it’s like saying the sky is blue, or the grass is green—natural. Like he doesn’t even have to think about it.