Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types, Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Shane Hollander, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Outing, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Useless Vampires, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Freak4Freak Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Smut, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Press and Tabloids, Fluff and Smut, Crack, Texting Fic, Texting, Idiots in Love

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-10-27 Words: 10,209 Chapters: 1/1

Blood Letting

Summary

“Mr Hollander, you and Ilya Rozanov have been photographed coming out of multiple hotels late at night. Can you explain that?”

Shane panics. He can’t give the real answer, that they meet up every few months because he’s an undead monster and Rozanov happens to have delicious blood.

“Um. We were… well. Gay sex! We were having gay sex!”

Or: Shane Hollander isn’t in denial about being gay. He is in denial about being a vampire.

Notes

Important: In this universe the NHL is more LGBT friendly (I think partly that having magical creatures to contend with makes it less of a big deal). Ilya is already openly bisexual, so Shane does not out him!

Shane is feeling pretty smug, sitting in the press scrum. They already interviewed Rozanov, who was a sore loser about Boston’s loss, as usual. Now all he needs to do is emphasise it was a team effort (even though he scored both of their goals) and make some bland comment about their cup chances (they’re definitely winning it again unless he gets injured).

He makes it through most of the questions with only half his brain turned on, the other part thinking about his plans later with Rozanov. Their schedule hasn’t matched up for two months, and so he needs it more than usual. He’ll probably struggle to make it to the bed.

“Hollander. You and Rozanov have very different styles of play, what do you think made the difference tonight?”

Reporters love to emphasise how different he and Rozanov are, whether it’s their hockey or their lifestyles. Rozanov is always splashed over the front of the magazines, some pretty girl or boy hanging off him. He was the youngest player in the league to come out, after the first openly gay NHL player, Scott Hunter, had come out ten years ago. Shane prefers to be more discreet about his sexuality, but that’s not surprising, since he hardly reveals anything about his private life.

It’s not like Shane is particularly jealous of Rozanov. The more media attention he gets, the more scrutiny he will be under. His caution protects both of them, although the secret is more his than Rozanov’s. After all, Shane is the one who’s hiding that he’s a vampire. All Rozanov has to hide is that he likes it when Shane bites him.

It’s a highly discreet arrangement, but one that has lasted for all the five years they have been in the NHL. Every few months, they meet together, Rozanov offers up his neck, and Shane sucks him. He gets a litre of blood, and Rozanov gets some relief from his medical condition. They both walk away satisfied, and neither of them have to think about it too much. Theoretically.

A reporter Shane doesn’t recognise steps out from behind a tall photographer. The Metros press manager points at him, and he opens his mouth to ask the question. Shane can tell just from the piercing look in his eyes, that this is going to be more challenging than explaining the Metros’ penalty kill percentage.

“Shane Hollander. You and Ilya Rozanov have been photographed coming out of multiple hotels late at night. Can you explain that?”

“What?” The attention of everyone in the room zeros in on Shane. Even the Metros press person looks shocked.

“I have the photographs right here. This one is a hotel in Boston, on the 28th of September of this year. Then we have the 8th of November, also Boston. Here’s one of Rozanov in Montreal, standing outside the hotel you are confirmed to have been staying at back in January. And then we have something even older, last summer, Los Angeles, both of you standing in the smoking area of the Hilton. How can you explain this?”

Shane’s brain shuts down. The reporter is holding up large laminated copies of the photographs, but Shane doesn’t need to see them. His mouth salivates remembering each of those dates, Rozanov’s thick blood running through him, how messed up his hair was each time, the satisfied look on his face after Shane pulled back from his neck. He knows that his face is doing something incriminating, that there’s no way to talk himself out of some kind of admission.

Shane panics. He can’t give the real answer, that they meet up every few months because he’s an undead monster and Rozanov happens to have delicious blood.

“Um. We were… well. Gay sex! We were having gay sex!”

The room explodes with noise, half the reporters in the room surging forward to try to ask Shane more questions. The Metros’ press secretary suddenly jumps into action, and screams that there will be no more questions. Two security guards clamp a hand on Shane’s shoulders lead him out of the room, as he asks himself why the fuck his first thought was such a stupid, incriminating lie.

Five years ago

The CCM photo shoot goes well, lots of action shots posing and trying to look angry, while Rozanov smirks at him. Shane even manages to relax near the end, and Rozanov coaxes a genuine laugh out of him. When it’s finally over and they get in the shower, Rozanov peels a band-aid off his shoulder. It’s just a small cut, but for some reason Shane’s vision latches onto it immediately. It’s bleeding just a little, a bead of crimson coming out of it. Shane can’t stop looking at it, because it smells so good. He’s never met anyone whose blood smelled so good before.

He hasn’t had any blood all day, because he was paranoid that someone might see him, even when his mom walked around and found an empty room. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if someone saw him like that, doing something disgusting. He’s gone much longer without, but there’s a feeling in his stomach that started when Rozanov first made eye contact with him. The animal part of him is hungry.

He realises Rozanov is looking at him, so he lifts his head from where he was examining the cut, and makes eye contact. Rozanov is staring, and it takes Shane a second to realise that his fangs are out. His fangs are out, and he’s got his mouth open staring like an idiot, so Rozanov can definitely see them and he can tell that Shane’s a vampire.

Fuck.

There’s so much blood in hockey, and this has never, ever happened. He’s not some predatory vamp who would follow a guy into the shower in the hopes of attacking him. Is that what Rozanov is going to think? Is he going to tell everyone? Shane is so stuck panicking that he doesn’t realise Rozanov has swiped some of the blood onto his finger, and is sticking his hand out, offering it to Shane.

“You want to taste?” There’s just a small smear of red on Rozanov’s finger, and Shane leans over and instantly shoves it into his mouth, tongue flicking over the finger to get every bit of it. The flavour is rich, and savoury, spicy and musky and deep in a way that the blood bags don’t compare to. When he licks every bit of red off, he looks up and Rozanov’s eyes are dark.

“You want more?” Rozanov asks, gesturing to his shoulder. The monster has fully taken hold of Shane now, because he presses his mouth to it once, almost like a kiss and then lets his tongue trace over the fresh wound, collecting all of the delicious blood. He stays there for a minute at least, gripping the muscles of Ilya’s shoulder, his mouth sucking onto his arm, taking every drop that flows out of him, until the natural enzymes in Shane’s saliva stop the blood.

When Shane detaches from Rozanov’s arm, his brain starting to clear, and the mortification setting in, he notices that Rozanov is hard. His cock is thick, and mouthwateringly large. Shane can’t help staring at it for a bit, wondering what it would feel like in his mouth. Then he chastises himself again. An erection is a natural reaction to a vampire drinking from him. Shane hadn’t really been properly drinking, so it doesn’t totally make sense, but perhaps Rozanov is just very sensitive. He still has his eyes closed, so Shane manages to turn fully so that Rozanov can’t see he’s also hard, and runs away out of the shower.

Sitting on the bench, Shane waits for Rozanov to finish up, so that they can talk, and he can beg him not to ruin Shane’s life. Rozanov comes in wearing only a towel, distractingly knotted just below his adonis belt.

“So… can we just pretend that never happened?” Shane asks.

“Is what you want?” Rozanov asks, tying his towel even tighter around him, so that it just barely covers what Shane has already seen.

“Yes. Please. Sorry, I just really don’t want it getting out that I’m a vampire,” Shane tells him.

“I will not tell anyone. But why so secret? Is not so strange.” Shane wasn’t the only creature in the MLH, there was a defenceman in Florida who was a werewolf, and a half-faerie in Vancouver, but no other vampires.

“I just… I don’t want anyone thinking that I’m only good at hockey because of the vampire thing. I know lots of people have this idea that it makes you super strong or stay young forever or whatever, but it’s not true! I just have like, sensitive skin and a weird diet.” Being half-Asian made him stick out enough. The gay thing too, although there are more LGBT hockey players than there are creature ones. The last thing he needs is another way to be unusual.

“You are natural vampire? Or turned?” Rozanov has a bit more awareness of this than Shane would have assumed. Natural vampires were even rarer than turned ones, and most natural vampire families are super rich.

“Turned. When I was a kid.” Rozanov’s face scrunches up in pity.

“I’m sorry,” Rozanov has started dressing, and Shane tries not to watch him too hard as he does it. His perfect abs disappear underneath a T-shirt.

“Oh, no! It wasn’t like, traumatising or anything. It was an accident, me and some kid were playing a stupid game, and I accidentally got turned.”

“You got turned by what, a ten year old?” Rozanov says, looking amused now.

“Seven-year-old actually. We were trying to become ‘blood brothers’. Did the handshake, the blood mixed together, I must have licked my finger afterwards because I woke up the next day a vampire.”

His parents had felt extremely guilty, that they hadn’t been watching him more closely. They’d done it at the back of the playground, using a pin from Shane’s coat to prick their fingers. The other kid was a natural vampire, and his parents were mortified when they found out. It was illegal to turn a human, and so they’d gotten into some trouble with other people in the neighbourhood. The other boy’s family moved away a few months later, and Shane had never seen him again.

“That is least sexy vampire story I have ever heard. Where is the drama? Shane, you should be lying about this.” Rozanov says confidently.

Shane is taken aback. “I should lie?”

“Yes! You should say you were turned by a beautiful woman in fit of passion. Or you were attacked in the dead of night, walking home alone, and you try to fight, but vampire was too strong. This is good vampire story. Not lame, like real one.”

“Well, usually I don’t tell anyone so it doesn’t matter. You really don’t care that I’m a vampire?” Shane had gotten so comfortable with the conversation that he’d sort of forgotten to be worried.

“You are not first vampire I meet, Shane Hollander. But I was thinking… do you want more?” Rozanov asks. He looks at Shane meaningfully.

“What do you mean, more?”

“More of my blood. See, I have a medical condition. The little cells for the blood, my body makes too many of them, causes problems. So if you wanted more blood, maybe you can take from me,” Rozanov says.

Then, in the sluttiest display that Shane has ever seen, he tilts his head to the side, showing off the vein in his neck. He bites his lip, and he’s never seen such a clear invitation. Shane can feel the blood rising to his cheeks, but blushing now might suggest that he wants something more from Rozanov than just his blood. Clearing his mind, he forces the blood in his body to travel back down the blood vessels, rather than going into his face. He doesn’t have a heartbeat, so it’s not dangerous to do. Just another weird quirk of vampirism.

“So, what, you’ll just give me your blood? For no reason?” Shane asks. It’s usually considered a very intimate thing, to have a vampire suck you. Not only because it makes lots of people aroused, but because it makes you more vulnerable. Vampire saliva has both healing and relaxing compounds in it, so if a vampire takes too much, it can make the person ‘blood-drunk,’ and disorientated.

“Well, this helps me too. If I do not get rid of blood, I get sick. But I do not like needles. So before, in Russia, I have a friend. She is vampire, and she drinks from me a little.”

It takes a minute for Shane to process all of that. Vampires are relatively rare, so Rozanov knowing another one is slightly surprising. But then, he has the whole ‘mysterious Russian’ thing going on, so perhaps not. Shane absolutely shouldn’t say yes to sucking him. It’s far too intimate to be something he does with a rival, especially one that he finds attractive. But god… now that he’s tasted a drop of Rozanov’s blood, his instincts are crying out at him to get more of it. And if what Rozanov is saying is true, then it helps him out too. This can just be a platonic, mutually beneficial arrangement between the two of them.

“And now you think I could do that for you too?” Shane is trying to make himself sound mature, and not absolutely desperate for what Rozanov just suggested.

Rozanov smirks. Shane’s want must be written all over his face. “What is your room number?”

Shane looks at Ilya, dressed in a towel, his blood the most delicious thing Shane has ever tasted. He feels so fucking thirsty.

“Fourteen ten.”

🩸 🩸 🩸

Shane paces around his hotel room, and tries to figure out a way for this to not completely blow up in his face. First of all, he needs to sort out where they’re going to do it. The hotel room he’s staying in is small, there’s only a queen bed, and one small chair in the corner of the room in terms of furniture. The chair is possible, but still not ideal. Rozanov could sit in it while Shane kneels on the floor, but that seems vaguely humiliating. The only other option is for Shane to sit in his lap, which will either make him feel like a stripper, or a kid telling Santa what he wants for Christmas, and Shane can’t decide which is worse.

Luckily, the bed has dark green sheets, because Shane would really be panicking if they were white. He puts a towel next to the bed anyway, because then he can just lie about cutting himself while shaving or something. He also calls down to the hotel lobby, and asks for a first aid kit.

Vampires haven’t killed anyone in North America in decades. He’s heard that it’s actually pretty difficult to do it, because most vampires get full way before they can drink enough to injure someone. Most deaths come from vamps already suffering from malnutrition or certain drug addictions, or from multiple vamps all drinking from the same person. Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry. He can’t be completely sure how he’ll react to drinking from a person for the first time, and so it’s best to be prepared.

Really he should do something like call his mom, or call the ‘vampire mentor’ they got him in contact with when he was a teenager, and were worried about how it would affect him. The pamphlets all gave the same advice, that you should only drink from someone you trust, that reactions to both sucking and being sucked varied. They also said that there should be no presumption of sexual desire from either party unless otherwise stated. The pamphlet was very clear about that.

Whatever reaction Shane has to drinking Rozanov’s blood, it’s his responsibility to keep it to himself.

When the knock finally comes and Shane lets Rozanov into the room, he was expecting him to look nervous. He’d actually planned a whole speech about how they didn’t have to do it, but if Rozanov chose to go ahead with things Shane would take it slow and listen to all of his requests. Instead, Rozanov is grinning widely as he saunters into the room, dressed in a tank top that shows off his arms.

He smells clean, like he’s taken a shower to prepare for this, and his curls are perfect, golden on top of his head. Shane wants to run his fingers through them, and touch Rozanov’s skin, and kiss his perfect pouty lips. Then he notices that Rozanov hasn’t put a band-aid over the cut on his arm, and so his attention is drawn there instead.

“Um, welcome I guess,” Shane says awkwardly.

“Hello Hollander. I am here. Your willing sacrifice,” Rozanov says theatrically.

“So you’re still sure that you want to do this?” Shane asks carefully. Rozanov’s eyes are staring at Shane’s lips. He’s probably checking to see whether Shane’s fangs have come out again. Shane touches his mouth self-consciously, even though he knows there’s nothing there.

“Of course! Good boy Shane Hollander wants to drink my blood? How can I say no?” Shane rolls his eyes. Rozanov being just as much of an asshole as always is actually calming him down a bit.

“Did you smoke before this?” Shane asks.

“No. Svetlana always says it makes the blood taste worse, so I do not. You can check if you want, Hollander,” Rozanov says, licking his lips.

Shane has no idea how he’d check whether someone has smoked a cigarette recently, but also Rozanov’s answer makes his eyebrow furrow.

“That’s not the reason. The nicotine in cigarettes narrows your blood vessels, which increases blood pressure and puts more stress on the cardiovascular system. You shouldn’t drink from someone who has smoked recently, because it can make things more dangerous,” Shane tells him.

“Only you could make this boring, Hollander. You have textbook with you? You will read to me until I fall asleep, and then you will take my blood?”

“No. Okay, other than the medical condition that you told me about, do you have any other underlying health issues that I should know about? Have you been sick recently?”

“No, I am healthy Hollander. Very strong, so you can suck me as much as you want.” As Rozanov says it, he walks towards Shane confidently, as if he’s the one who is a predator.

Shane finds himself hemmed in, until his back is against the wall, and Rozanov is only a few inches away. Even though they’re almost the same height, Rozanov’s presence is so strong that Shane feels like he towers over him. He can smell Rozanov’s cologne, and that rich, spicy tang underneath. Rozanov’s handsome face is right near his, and it’s overwhelming, and Shane wants more than the businesslike arrangement he’s entitled to, but before he can fuck everything up and lean in, he manages to sidestep away.

“Um okay. Well, I don’t think the wall is the best place for it. You get on the bed, and then we can go through our expectations, and make sure they all match up.” Rozanov’s shoulders slump, but he obediently goes and lies on the bed.

“You say your expectations first. I have feeling maybe we were not having same idea about this,” Rozanov says grumpily.

“Oh. Really? Okay. So, first of all, I promise that we will do everything totally safely. I will take just a bit of blood, and you can stop me at any time. This is an arrangement that is supposed to suit both of us. You have a painless way to drain some blood, and I get the opportunity to feed. We should both walk away from this feeling satisfied,” Shane explains. Rozanov looks at the ceiling while Shane does it.

“Okay, so plan is, you drink some blood and then we both walk away? Nothing else?” Rozanov clarifies.

“Yes. Does that meet your expectations? It’s okay if you’ve rethought things.”

“No, is fine Hollander. I consent. We should get on with it,” Rozanov says. Shane is instantly relieved.

He lies on the bed next to Rozanov, making sure that their bodies aren’t touching. Rozanov lies facing him, head propped up on his elbow, so that he can listen to Shane.

“Okay. So most important, is that we have to do this safely. You need to keep a hand on my head, so that you can pull me away if you need to. If you start feeling sick, or if I tap your thigh, that means you need to tug my head away.”

“You want me to pull your hair, while I’m drinking from you? This is kink for you?”

“Fuck off, it’s a very normal safety thing. Being sucked makes you a lot more weak and agreeable, so it makes sense. And I’ve never sucked anyone before, so I don’t know exactly how I’ll react.” Rozanov’s head whips around when he hears that.

“You have never done this before? It is your first time?” Rozanov isn’t using a mocking voice, but it rubs Shane the wrong way anyway.

“Yes. I’ve always used blood bags.” He has some in the fridge now, although he’s sure Rozanov wouldn’t want to see something gross like that.

“Hmm, but fresh is better, right?” Rozanov says with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s what people say. Not like I would know.” Rozanov nods understandingly. He’s actually poking less fun than Shane had assumed he would.

“Okay, any other rules for me?”

“You have to keep talking while I suck you, so that I know I’m not taking too much. If you start to slur your words, I’ll stop.” There were more scientific ways to do it, but Shane doesn’t have time to order a bunch of equipment, and sometimes the old ways were the best.

“Okay, I will talk to you. What should I say?”

“I don’t know, just… talk about whatever.”

“Okay.”

Shane turns around to check that the medical supplies are all there, and when he looks back Rozanov has his shirt off. His body is just as beautiful as it had looked in the shower, from his broad shoulders, the large pecs Shane wants to bite, to the trail of hair leading temptingly downwards. Shane has to force the blood to not rise to his cheeks.

“Why are you shirtless?” He demands. Rozanov is fully stretched out, lounging like a favoured concubine on the bed.

“I like that shirt. Do not want to get blood on it.”

“What do you think I’m going to do, rip your throat out? I’ll make sure to do it cleanly.” Shane’s a bit offended, like Rozanov thinks he’s a messy eater.

“You said you never do it before. This is safer,” Rozanov replies.

“Fine. Keep the shirt off.” Shane stretches out on the bed next to him, pausing for a second. Rozanov’s mouth quirks into a smile. Encouraged, Shane leans over and presses his mouth to the side of Rozanov’s neck, tracing the vein with his tongue.

“It’s really okay?” Shane whispers. The room is so quiet he can hear Rozanov’s heartbeat, slightly faster than usual. He must be nervous about being sucked. Rozanov reaches a hand up, and strokes Shane's hair once before threading his fingers through it, making sure he has a tight grip.

“Do it. Suck me,” Ilya asks, and Shane doesn’t have to coax out his fangs, he’s ready to go right away.

As soon as Shane takes one pull of Ilya’s blood, his body explodes with pleasure. The blood rushes into him, warm and delicious, and there’s only one place it wants to go. Rozanov’s blood is flowing straight to his cock, betraying how turned on he is by every single aspect of this. Rozanov shirtless, underneath him, offering himself up, letting Shane touch him. Rozanov’s hand grips his hair more tightly after that first suck, and the slight pain just adds to the sensation. Before he can stop himself he lets a bit of it flow there, fattening up his cock, but then he slows down his sucking, so that he can focus.

Getting hard right now would be exploitative. He’s supposed to be helping Rozanov, not getting off on drinking from him. They’re doing this as a healthy way to benefit them both, it’s not a sex thing. Shane closes his eyes, and forces the blood away, sending it to any other part of his body. With every pull of Rozanov’s blood he has to maintain his concentration, because Rozanov’s blood just keeps trying to flow into his dick. He’d have a huge, throbbing erection right now if he didn’t stop himself, and he can’t stand to embarrass himself like that. The talking that Rozanov’s doing is also not helping.

“... so I was in big meeting, with all these brand people, paid so much money just to have ideas. And I think, this job is so easy. I could.. fuck Hollander… I could do this, if I was not so good at hockey. So I think, how would I sell hockey gear? And you know, hockey is a team game. Why in advert do I play alone like loser? I should play with Hollander, prettiest hockey player in the world. And they all say, Ilya, this is such good idea, you are sooo smart, they think… oh god. Shit, Hollander that feels good,” Rozanov groans into his ear. Shane pulls away instantly.

“Rozanov, are you alright?” There’s a blissed-out expression on Rozanov’s face. The blood starts flowing back into Shane’s cock, and he has to screw his eyes shut and focus again.

“Hollander, why do you panic? I just say I feel good. Here, have some more,” Rozanov pulls Shane’s face back into his neck, lips brushing against the sensitive bit Shane has been feeding from.

“Ilya, I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’ll stop now,” Shane insists.

“No, Shane it feels good! You can have more, I am strong. I know it feels good for you too,” Rozanov says breathlessly.

He’s right, Shane feels fucking amazing. Like he could run through a wall maybe. He’s never felt like this in his entire life, the raw desire running through him. Not allowing himself to get hard seems to have only made him more desperate. Rozanov is beautiful on the bed, posture splayed wide for Shane, like something out of a debauched painting.

“It’s a bad idea,” Shane says, but lets his tongue wander over Rozanov’s neck anyway, making the other man’s breathing stutter.

Rozanov uses the hand he has wrapped in Shane’s hair to turn his face around, so that he can press his wet mouth against Shane’s ear.

“Do it Shane, make me feel good again,” Rozanov whispers.

Shane can’t help sinking his fangs in again, letting more of that blood flow into his system. The pleasure clouds his head again, welling up inside him. Rozanov is still talking, but he’s making small noises in between, little gasps that show how much it’s affecting him. The blood that’s flowing in Shane all wants to go to his cock, and it’s a fight to redirect it.

“God, yes Shane. Just like that, so good for me. Take what you need to take, suck me just like that,” Rozanov lets out, in what is basically a moan.

Shane takes two deeper pulls, and then taps Rozanov’s leg urgently. He was sure he’d be able to stop himself, but it’s too overwhelming, with how good Rozanov smells, and the thick taste of him in his mouth, the noises that he’s making. Rozanov’s strong fingers grip Shane’s hair and lift him away, his mouth detaching from Rozanov’s neck with a wet pop. Shane takes a few breaths to calm himself down, and then goes back in, licking the wound to get the excess blood, and make sure it heals right.

“Fuck Hollander,” Rozanov pants.

Now that Shane has stopped sucking, he can take Rozanov in fully, and that’s when Shane notices that Rozanov’s hard. There’s a huge tent in his pants, and he’s big, even bigger than he looked in the shower. Shane’s soft cock twitches, sending a jolt through him. He wants to keep sucking and stroke Rozanov, make him feel good with his mouth and his hand, let his own cock fill up and climb onto Rozanov’s lap, rub them together until they’re both coming. Rozanov’s lips are parted slightly and his eyes are unfocused, so he must not have realised. He’s looking at Shane like an addict looks at their next hit.

“Fuck, sorry! Are you okay? I didn’t take too much?” Shane asks, pulling away.

“I am okay. You took what you needed, I am just feeling good now. Not so full,” Rozanov murmurs. His pupils are dilated, curls all messed up from when he threw his head back against the bed.

“You’re not feeling sick at all? Light headed?”

“No, Hollander. I am very satisfied with your service. Fuck, you got me little bit blood-drunk, maybe. You could ask me to do anything right now, I would do it.” Shane pulls away fully. Rozanov adjusts himself, and Shane’s eyes flick down to watch Rozanov’s big hand moving his big cock.

“Okay. I’m just going to sit with you here until you calm down. I’ll get you a glass of water,” Shane says. It’s very important that he takes care of Rozanov now. He’d only meant to drink a little bit, not so much. He’ll understand if Rozanov never wants to do this again.

“Okay, Doctor Hollander. You do that.”

Present Day

The Metros don’t even let him enter the changing rooms, they lead him straight out of a back entrance and into a taxi back to his apartment. As soon as he gets in, he pulls out his phone, which has been vibrating non-stop. First he texts an ‘I’m sorry’ to Rozanov, and then flicks over to the family groupchat.

Shane tries to delete the message, realises he can’t, and then starts to panic again. He’s sure the team chat is imploding, but there’s no way he’s checking that. The team hadn’t responded particularly well to his coming out, so announcing he’s fucking his rival is like trying to have a tea party at the site of Chernobyl. On top of the disaster, he’s now needlessly humiliating himself. At least now Hayden might stop suggesting he ‘have a drink sometime’ with Jackie’s pilates instructor.

It’s the first time in a long while that he’s actually been happy at the fact that he isn’t dating anyone. If he was, then this would be a whole different nightmare. He’d tried a few times, but it was hard to reconcile the fact that just sucking Rozanov felt better than full sex with anybody else. Plus, the vampire thing. He’d be morally obligated to tell them, and watch them run away, or be weirdly into it.

He’d once fucked a guy who was tall, and sort of goth, and when he’d found out Shane was a vampire he gave Shane a crimson silk shirt on the second date. And then he’d asked him to wear it while Shane ‘ravished’ him. Shane had refused to wear the shirt, and then they had a long argument about whether you could ‘ravish’ someone while bottoming (Shane insisted that it was possible, and that actually he’d quite like to try, while the guy maintained that it wasn’t.) Shane just isn’t vampire-y in the way people want him to be. He’s quiet, but in an awkward way rather than a sexy brooding way. He likes going out during the day, even if he has to wear tons of sunscreen and cover up, and he doesn’t like candles, or violin music, or horror movies.

Rozanov clearly enjoys having his blood sucked, but he’s never weird about the vampire thing. He doesn’t ask Shane questions like ‘have you ever killed anyone?’ or ‘will you like, stay young forever?’ or ‘can you make me a vampire too?’. Rozanov makes jokes about it, but that’s because he’s an asshole who makes jokes about everything. And the jokes are sort of nice, sometimes. Rozanov is good at making jokes in a way that makes Shane feel included, like the shameful fact that he’s a bloodsucking monster is just another weird and humorous quirk, like that he enjoys buying boring cars and drinking ginger ale.

Unconsciously, his thumb flicks over to his ongoing message thread with Rozanov. When they first started meeting up so that Shane could drink from him, they rarely texted outside of hotel room numbers.

More recently, things have been a little different.

Rozanov likes to text him every time he sees anything vampire themed. It started during Halloween, when Rozanov kept sending him vampire cups, and lamps, and tablecloths. Shane had ignored it, then started sending things back, and it became kind of a competition, to see who could find the best vampire-thing. Eventually, Shane had sent a dog in a vampire-themed Halloween costume, and Rozanov had instantly declared him the winner. Since then, Shane texts him any time he sees a dog in a funny costume, and Rozanov always replies instantly with a lot of simpering adjectives and heart emojis.

This year, they got talking about Halloween traditions, and which candies made them nostalgic. After that, Shane had bought some Russian candy on the internet, and brought it to their next meetup. He’d told himself that he was just being fair, and that since he was getting a meal, Rozanov might as well eat something too. But then Rozanov’s face when he saw it was complicated, and he said thank you instead of making jokes. Shane had felt a bit like he was crossing some invisible line.

Then there had been the meeting in Los Angeles. Shane had been there to take photographs for Rolex, and Rozanov had been visiting friends. He said that he got bored always stuck in Boston over the summer, and so he’d happily spent a few hours letting Shane suck him. But then… Shane had been tired, from the shoot, since it was in bright daylight. Somehow, he’d fallen asleep, and Rozanov had still been there in the morning. Shane had subtly tried to kick him out by claiming that he was going hiking, but then Rozanov had asked whether he could come, and Shane couldn’t think of a reason why not.

And they’d had a good time, in the end. Rozanov didn’t find the fact that Shane needed four layers of sunscreen and a shade umbrella weird, because he already knew Shane’s secret (he’d panicked and told his teammates that it was an Asian Thing). Rozanov’s natural habitat was dingy nightclubs, but he looked better in the sunlight, making jokes about the trail and racing Shane up every hill. They laughed a lot. It was almost like they weren’t rivals, at all, they were just friends.

So why hadn’t Shane said that? The press probably wouldn’t really believe it, but if they just stuck to the lie that they went to hotels to drink beer and gossip about the rest of the league, eventually the media would get bored.

Shane hadn’t said that because his brain was melting down, and so it had thrown out the first thing he could think of. And unfortunately, when it comes to Rozanov, the first thing Shane thinks of is sex.

His big stupid crush has ruined everything.

Now, Rozanov might never want to do it again, and that makes Shane’s stomach clench painfully. Which is terrifying, because he doesn’t need to drink from a person. The blood bags are totally fine. He’s not some kind of fucking monster who needs to suck somebody’s blood to sustain himself.

If Rozanov wants to stop, then he can stop. Shane should have done it years ago, as soon as he started to like Rozanov for more than just his perfect abs and compatible medical condition. Vampires tended to form strong connections with the person they suck. It’s an intimate thing, which is why all the experts suggest it should only be done with someone you really trusted.

But he’d thought it was fine with Rozanov, because there was no way he was going to do something as stupid as falling in love with his biggest rival, not when Rozanov only sees him as a more comfortable alternative to having needles stuck in him.

It was bound to end sometime anyway. Recently, Ilya hasn’t been spotted stumbling out of the clubs with any pretty strangers, or tagged in puck bunny posts on instagram, and he didn’t even bring anyone to all stars. It meant that Shane got to sneak him into his hotel room, and suck him for a full three hours. He’d actually been worried he took too much, because Rozanov had been snuggly afterwards, wanting to curl up together in Shane’s bed, and so Shane had let him, just in case, just so he could keep an eye on him. But then Rozanov played like a demon the next day, so it wasn’t that. It was more likely that he’d gotten used to going to sleep with someone, and so he was using Shane as a replacement.

It all points to one thing, that Rozanov must be getting serious with someone. Shane wishes he could just ask, but then Rozanov would know that he’s looking. That Shane pathetically keeps up with the love life of the man he can’t have.

It’s fine because he isn’t entitled to anything from Rozanov. It’s insanely generous of him to even let Shane suck him. Sometimes he wishes he could just ask Rozanov to be less handsome and funny and considerate. That would make everything hurt a lot less.

Right now, he needs to somehow convince Rozanov that this is all no big deal. The scandal will blow over, and they can go back to meeting a few times a year, that this doesn’t have to change anything. All he has to do is cling onto Rozanov for as long as possible, and then he can deal with his mess of emotions later.

As soon as he lets Rozanov into his house, he gets pushed against the wall, and Rozanov claims his mouth, biting his bottom lip, sucking on his tongue. His hands are everywhere, and Shane is helpless, pressed against the door, praying that Rozanov just keeps going. After he’s shoved his tongue into every corner of Shane’s mouth, Rozanov pulls away.

“Shane. Fuck, I have wanted to do this since the photoshoot.” Shane’s eyes follow Rozanov’s lips when he leans back.

“Since LA?” Shane asks, thinking back to that summer, how Rozanov had stuck around even when he didn’t need to.

“No idiot, since the CCM shoot, first time we meet.” Rozanov’s fingers stroke Shane’s stomach underneath his shirt. Shane’s eyes widen in shock.

“You’ve been thinking about this the whole time?” For some reason he hadn’t connected the dots, that all of his feelings were truly reciprocated.

“Yes. When you invite me to hotel room, I was thinking we would have hot vampire sex, maybe before you suck me, or after. I was very excited.”

“How about now?” Shane asks. Rozanov kisses him again, very softly.

“Now I am even more excited, because I know you will suck me, and then send me pictures of dogs in Halloween costumes.”

“That is so sweet. But I meant… right now, do you want the sex before or after?” Rozanov groans, and slumps forward, resting his forehead against Shanes. Shane looks down and sees that his grey sweatpants are already tight.

“You really want this? The whole time, I was trying to seduce you, but you never get hard, so I think you are not into me,” Rozanov says. His face is so close that Shane can feel the soft brush of his mint-scented breath.

“Um. So, about that. Because I’m a vampire, I have a bit more control than a living person, about where all of the blood… goes.” Shane feels himself blush, and doesn’t try to stop it.

“What do you mean?” Rozanov has his head cocked to the side. Slowly, he runs a hand down Shane’s stomach, and ghosts over the front of his jeans, feeling Shane’s thick bulge.

“So, when I suck your blood, all of it wants to go into my cock. But because I’m a vampire, I can just… redirect it. So that I don’t get hard. I always had to do that before when we met up. This is what happens when I don’t.” Rozanov’s fingers slip underneath his waistband and Shane gasps as Rozanov’s fingers slide into his underwear, stroking Shane’s dick. Rozanov smirks, and then looks betrayed.

“Shane. All this time, you have special vampire boner powers? This is not fair.” Rozanov’s fingers keep moving, sending little waves of pleasure through him.

“Don’t call it that. But kind of, yeah. Usually I do it to stop myself from blushing, but it works for this too.”

“Shane, you must not do that. The blushing is so cute,” Rozanov says, reaching his other hand up to brush over Shane’s freckles. He leans in again, and they kiss while Rozanov has his hand down Shane’s pants. Rozanov pulls away slightly, and starts kissing Shane’s neck. It’s a strange feeling, because it’s always been the other way around, him pushing his mouth against Rozanov’s throat. Feeling Rozanov’s teeth graze against him makes Shane shiver, and he can feel the hunger building in him. Rozanov’s throat is right there, and when Shane listens, he can hear the thumping of his heartbeat. He grips Rozanov’s waist tighter.

“You are getting needy. You want to suck me, I can tell,” Rozanov whispers into his ear.

“You taste so good, I can’t help it,” Shane replies.

“Okay. But maybe we do things a little different this time. I want to see you properly Hollander. No more hiding, no more secret dick magic.” Ilya pulls at his shirt and lifts it over his head.

Shane immediately starts taking Rozanov’s clothes off. He fumbles on the button to Ilya’s pants, so excited that it makes it difficult to get his fingers to cooperate. Rozanov is always naked when he sucks him, in Shane’s head, when he jerks off about it. Now Ilya is making all of his dirty fantasies come true.

“Holy shit, Rozanov,” Shane moans. It’s the first time he’s seen it properly since the day in the shower, and even then he was too distracted by Rozanov’s bleeding shoulder to properly see it. It’s thick and proud, shiny on the head from how turned on Rozanov is. Shane reaches out before he can think better of it, and wraps a hand around it.

“Can I put it in my mouth? Just for a bit,” Shane asks eagerly.

“Hollander, I would let you punch me in the face if you asked right now,” Rozanov pants out, which is all the permission Shane needs to sink to his knees.

Shane nuzzles his face into the crease of Rozanov’s leg, and yes- even though Rozanov clearly showered before he got here, there’s still a bit of his natural musk here. Shane runs his tongue over Rozanov’s balls first, making his way up to the head of his cock, which he sucks into his mouth. Rozanov groans and pulls his hair, and the sense-memory of that, plus the heavy sensation of Rozanov’s cock in his mouth makes him feel light-headed.

“Fuck, you love it,” Rozanov groans, as Shane opens his throat so that he can take Roznaov deeper, so he can shove in as much of the man as he can fit.

Doing this doesn’t actually change anything. They’re still here, in a room with all the blinds closed, satisfying an urge. Shane will leave in the morning, and probably have a meeting where everyone tries to pretend they are not imagining him doing exactly this. And he’ll have to tell them that it’s just casual, not something that matters. That he didn’t declare it as a personal relationship on all the forms because they don’t have a relationship. They just have an understanding.

“Stop, stop,” Rozanov urges, and Shane pulls off his cock, looks up to see what he did wrong. But it’s all written there in the way that Rozanov is standing, how he’s tensing his thighs and controlling his breathing.

“Don’t come yet, I want to suck you, and then I want you in me,” Shane says teasingly, trying to ignore how strange it feels to speak his own desires out loud.

Rozanov gets the upper hand back by physically picking him up, and throwing him on the bed.

Sucking Rozanov while naked is even more satisfying than shirtless. He doesn’t quite jerk him off while he does it, but his own erection is pressed into Rozanov’s thigh, and he keeps a hand resting on Rozanov’s dick, feeling how each time Shane sucks in more blood, Rozanov’s cock gets harder. He has to stop himself from humping Rozanov’s leg like a dog, and eventually it all gets too much. Rozanov has been whispering to him the whole time, low and dirty:

“Hollander, you are so fucking hot. God, your body is incredible, I want to kiss every part of your skin. I want to pinch your nipples until they’re red, make you beg for my cock, reshape your body so you cum only for me. Yeah, like that, sucking me so good, I can’t get enough, making me feel so good Hollander.”

“Fuck!” Shane pulls away and has to grab his own dick to stop himself from coming.

“Is that all you want, baby?” Rozanov asks. Shane blushes again, and thinks he’d be okay with it if they wrote that on his tombstone, ‘likes to be called baby by Ilya Rozanov’. Right now it feels like the truest fact about him.

“I need you inside me. Now.” Rozanov’s hand immediately dives for the bedside cabinet, and produces a bottle of lube.

Shane stuck three fingers inside himself in the shower before he even considered texting Rozanov, but Rozanov is still so slow, so careful. He starts with his tongue, licking Shane’s most intimate place like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It makes Shane whine and spread his legs more, Rozanov nipping his thigh in between indulgent movements of his tongue, making a mark. Shane already spilled his guts on TV, so if anyone sees it in the locker room, they’re going to know exactly who made it.

He gets flipped over, onto his stomach and then Rozanov is reaching for a condom, and the urge for more mess, more fluids is so strong that Shane grabs it, throws it away. He wants all of Rozanov spilled into him now.

“Hollander, what?” Rozanov asks dumbly. Shane rolls over, then reaches up and pushes Rozanov down instead, and the other man is too surprised to resist, and Shane is strong so he’s flat on his back in a minute, while Shane straddles him.

“You get tested, right? I do too. So we don’t need one of those fucking things,” Shane says, and it’s probably the animal part of him taking over. He got interrupted feeding, and now it needs more, whatever it can get.

“You want to… you will let me fuck you raw?” Rozanov asks, panting, curls stuck to his head, plush lips parted.

Shane wraps a hand around him, steady, and guides the tip towards his entrance. The second it enters him, he feels the predator in him settle, like the thirst is finally being quenched. Rozanov’s hands are strong on his hips, but Shane is the one in control, he’s the one sinking down, feeling himself be spread out and filled, listening to Rozanov groan obscenely underneath him.

Shane is on top, and it’s so fucking hot to see Rozanov’s face below him, his awed expression, red-faced and sweaty. He grinds Rozanov deep, shifting his hips so that it grazes against his sweet spot at the same time, and feels Rozanov’s dick twitch inside him. He puts two hands over Rozanov’s big pecs, and squeezes, using them for leverage so that he can move more wildly, and then tries to kiss the other man again without slowing down, and fails, just panting into each others mouths instead.

He leans back, riding Rozanov’s beautiful cock, and Rozanov’s head lifts up so he can see his cock disappearing into Shane better, so Shane shoves his forehead back down onto the bed. He needs him flat, so that he can adjust the angle, and then lick a line up Rozanov’s throat. So that he can let his fangs come out, even while Rozanov’s cock is buried deep. He pulls back for a second.

“Can I… fuck, can I bite you?” Shane asks, running a finger over the mark on Rozanov’s throat.

“Please, do it. Please, please,” Rozanov tilts his head so that even more of his neck is on display, and Shane feels it, the power of having Rozanov underneath him, begging. He looks so beautiful like this, curls all messed up, bottom lip red made red by his own desperation. Shane licks his neck lovingly, then plunges in his teeth.

“Fuck, Shane,” Rozanov moans, and hearing his name out of those lips makes that first pull taste even sweeter.

“Ilya,” Shane mouths against his neck, and it’s probably not even intelligible, but Rozanov grips his hair tighter like he understands. Shane starts shallowly shifting his hips, making sure that his fangs are still deep while keeping Rozanov’s cock satisfied.

“Feels so good Shane,” Rozanov moans again, and thrusts from below, making Shane gasp. It’s a challenge that Shane takes, riding him harder and faster, pulling more of Rozanov’s blood into his mouth, feeling the hot rush of it. There’s nothing to hide anymore, he can let all of it flow straight into his untouched and achingly hard cock, and he manages three more grinds of his hips before he is coming magnificently onto his own chest, dripping onto Rozanov too, marking him with his cum.

The clench of the orgasm makes him suck more violently, and he feels it filling his mouth, even more of that hot, rich flavour. Rozanov jerks underneath him and Shane watches his face as he groans and fills Shane up, so that he’s completely surrounded by Ilya, Ilya, Ilya.

It takes a while for both of them to come back to their senses. Ilya stays in him for all that time, sticky and gross and hot all mixed up together. They kiss, poorly, because neither of them have got their breath back, and Shane isn’t sure if he ever will.

“Shane, you have killed me. I am vampire too now,” Ilya says as soon as he can. He doesn’t move his arms from where they are tightly wrapped around Shane’s body.

“Fuck. It was probably a bad idea for us to do this,” Shane says.

“Oh, yes. Imagine if whole world found out we did this. Now that would be terrible.” Rozanov says, rolling his eyes.

“God, I’m still sorry about that.”

“Hmm, it is lucky you are so good at apologies,” Ilya says, and then kisses Shane a bit more deeply, pushing his tongue into Shane’s mouth.

“They are probably going to have a ton more questions. I know you had your own thing going on, but until now I had a pretty clean image,” Shane says.

“So maybe we make it more family-friendly. Tell them we are dating.” Shane’s heart leaps wildly.

“Wouldn’t that be more complicated, having to fake a whole relationship?” Ilya shrugs, big shoulders going up and down.

“So we don’t fake it.”

“What do you mean, we don’t fake it?” There’s no way that Ilya is implying what Shane thinks. The things he wants don’t just fall into his lap like this.

“I am saying that I want to date you, Shane Hollander. Properly. If you will have me.” Ilya’s eyes are downcast, but when he looks up they’re full of hope and anticipation.

“Ilya, I want that more than anything.”

The cameras start flashing wildly the second Ilya enters. Shane is already in there, sitting obediently in front of five microphones. He sort of feels like a Jerry Springer contestant, like Ilya is supposed to storm in and slap him. Ilya runs a hand through his curls, and Shane considers seriously whether he would find that hot. Ilya sits down next to him, and underneath the table Shane feels the little nudge of his foot.

“Rozanov, how did you feel when you heard Hollander’s comments yesterday?” They let one of the more experienced journalists go first.

Ilya smirks. “I was very confused.”

“Rozanov, what part of Hollander’s answer confused you?” It’s a younger female reporter this time.

“I was confused because here is my beautiful boyfriend, saying that our relationship is only about sex.” Like they’d choreographed, still naked on the bed, Ilya reaches over and takes Shane’s hand.

“Shane Hollander! Can you confirm what Ilya Rozanov has just said?”

Shane clears his throat first. “Yesterday, I was caught off guard by a reporter. He showed pictures of our intimate moments to the whole world. In that moment, I panicked, and I used a very poor choice of words to explain what is going on between us.”

“And what is going on?” It’s a man and he asks sceptically, like he thinks Shane is going to turn around and deny it.

“Me and Ilya Rozanov are in a loving, committed relationship, and have been for several months.” He doesn’t even realise, that he added an extra word in there, before the word ‘committed’. One they didn’t discuss in that bed at all.

The whole area exploded into noise. Ilya leans forward to make it clear he is speaking into one of the microphones. Then he turns his head, so that his eyes are only focused on Shane.

“It is true. We are in a very strong, loving relationship.” The predator part of Shane is lying down and purring. Shane’s heart is so full he thinks he can use only this moment to sustain him for the rest of his life.