Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Hayden Pike, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Rose Landry, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Outing, Relationship Reveal, Shane Hollander Gets Outed, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Locker Room, Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, Crack Treated Seriously, humiliation but not as a kink, being an internet meme is just embarrassing, Bottom Shane Hollander, Do I even need to tag that, the philosophy of bottoming, Ilya Rozanov is down so bad, funnier than the tags make it sound I guess?, Cocky Shane Hollander, Clockable Ilya Rozanov, Confident Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-08 Words: 4,249 Chapters: 1/1

Shane Hollander, Pro Level Cowboy

Summary

When Rose Landry’s texts are leaked, Shane is outed not only as gay, but as an enthusiastic and talented bottom and deepthroater. He panics over being the literal embodiment of every locker room slur but gets advice for dealing with his next team practice:

It’s time to get cocky. It’s time to own it.

Or: Ilya grapples with top privilege and Shane gets to embrace bottom pride in the locker room.

Notes

CW for locker room typical homophobia, slurs, and internalized homophobia.

Set in the year post-cottage when Ilya is still in Boston. Shane has not come out to his team. Hayden already knows.

Thank you to poading for the beta!

Rose's leaked texts and the general setup for this are paraphrased from the excellent fic Your Loss, Our Gain by goldengalaxies. My mind ran away with a handful of lines from that fic and turned it into this whole other thing about bottoming and locker rooms and internalized homophobia. Please go back and read the original! (You should really go read everything goldengalaxies has written, tbh.)

• Inspired by your loss, our gain by goldengalaxies

Rose’s text messages were out in the world and, just like that, Shane Hollander was outed.

It would have been one thing if he’d simply been confirmed as gay. He could have lived with that, he thought. Instead, their texts revealed much more. Way too much more. Particularly from one disastrous exchange about Rose’s issues with her boyfriend, during which Ilya had stolen his phone.

Shane:

if u need tips on riding dick shane can provide

Shane:

he is pro level cowboy

Shane:

also gold medal in deepthroating

Shane:

i’m sure he would be good coach

Shane:

lds as sdif ydsfpiyaiou

Shane:

ROSE I AM SO SORRY

Shane:

Ilya stole my fucking phone

Shane:

jesus christ please forget you saw that

Rose:

I WILL NOT

Rose:

PICK UP THE PHONE

And then later, after a lengthy phone call during which he had, in fact, given tips:

Rose:
shane hollander i respect and admire your freak

Rose:

the world has no idea what they’re missing

Rose:

also, ILYA ROZANOV???

Rose: 

legendary pull

So, yes, the whole world—including his parents—now knew that Shane Hollander was a bottom who liked to ride and deepthroat dicks, and that was the part that really, really got to him. There were memes. There were photos of him with “pro level cowboy” splashed across the bottom and a photoshopped cowboy hat on top. The entire internet knew his bedroom preferences and they were having a great time. 

Shane was not. 

The morning after the leak, Shane’s living room was full of people. His parents had made the drive from Ottawa late the previous night and his mother had set up a base of PR operations on the couch. Ilya had driven from Boston as soon as the leak hit and hovered at Shane’s side near the dining table. Rose had been filming in Toronto and managed a day off to deal with the fallout of the leak. She’d claimed the squashy armchair and draped herself over it. Hayden arrived last with coffee and Timbits for everyone. He sat on the corner of the coffee table with a vaguely ill expression, fiddling with the lid on his coffee.

“Well, I guess we should start,” Yuna Hollander said, slipping to manager mode to run this… whatever it was. Meeting. Execution. Exercise in pure humiliation. “Shane has practice in a few hours and we need to figure out how to address all this before then.”

Shane barked a harsh laugh, rocking back and forth at Ilya’s side with his arms folded tightly as he fought to keep himself from pacing.

“I don’t even know what there is to talk about. It’s out there. We’re fucked. The whole world knows I’m gay, they know Ilya and I are together, they—they know way more than that, just… there’s no way I can go back in that locker room for practice this morning. I’m going to get ripped apart. But sure, let’s figure out an Instagram statement or something.”

Ilya held out a hand as if trying to calm a skittish horse. “Moya lyubov, you brought them two cups. They would be stupid to treat you badly for this. You're the only good player on that team.”

“Hey!” Hayden protested, then held up his hands. “Sorry, not the point. Ignore me.”

“How is your team reacting, Ilya?” David asked.

He waggled his hand in a “so-so” gesture. “Mostly they are entertained. Yet another crazy Rozanov stunt. Some of them are even impressed that I managed to lock down the Shane Hollander. They think that you are way out of my league. I am getting a lot of shit, but it is not… cruel? Just chirping.”

“Of course they’re fine with it,” Shane said, the snark heavy in his voice. “You aren’t me.”

Ilya’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”

Shane snapped. “Obviously, Ilya! You come out of this looking like the big, strong, masculine, dominant top everyone always thought you were. I come out of this confirmed as every fucking locker room insult we’ve both been hearing since we were ten. I’m the little cocksucker faggot who likes to take it up the ass. Don’t you see the difference?”

Ilya reared back, offended. “Hey, I suck just as much cock as you do, and I eat way more ass, so I’m just as much of a—”

Shane closed his eyes and grimaced. “Jesus Christ, Ilya, my parents are here.”

Ilya had the decency to look somewhat abashed. “Yes, well, I think that… what is saying? The ship has left?”

“That ship has sailed,” Rose offered, and Ilya nodded.

“Yes. Pretty sure that ship sailed when the world blew up your mom’s Twitter mentions with memes.”

Shane groaned, hiding behind his hands. Ilya pulled Shane’s hands away from his face and stepped in closer, lowering his voice, though he was probably still perfectly fucking audible to everyone in the room.

“Lyubimyy, I’ve said many times, we can switch things up anytime you want—”

“No, I don’t want,” Shane said, then flushed. Rose snickered.

“I know that, sweetheart. I would not be big strong dominant top if it wasn’t what you like.”

He grabbed Shane’s face and tilted it up so he couldn’t hide, and Shane practically melted into his touch, automatically allowing himself to be directed and hating just how well it proved the point. Ilya kissed him lightly, then patted his cheek.

“I know how much you hate being an inspiration and a role model, but just think of all the bottoms out there who see you and go, ‘hey, if Shane Hollander can score a hat trick three hours after taking a dick, then maybe I can, too!”

Shane eyes went wide in vacant horror. “ILYA.”

“WHAT, it was impressive, very memorable!” Ilya protested.

“Well, at least we know it’s not affecting your play,” Yuna said with a snort. David turned around with a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking. Hayden was redder than Shane had ever seen him, and Rose was doubled over, slapping her thighs as she gasped with laughter.

Shane groaned. “Jesus Christ, Mom. I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Ilya sang.

“No, I don’t,” Shane admitted. “But I really wish my parents didn’t know so much about our sex life.”

Shane rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “I just don’t know how to get over the complete humiliation of being the embodiment of every single gay slur that gets thrown around in locker rooms. It’s going to be so bad.”

“You are not embarrassed by what we do, though,” Ilya said.

“No, I’m not. But you have to know it’s going to be way worse for me in the locker room than it will be for you. At the end of the day, you’re still sticking your dick in someone, meanwhile I’m on the record giving Rose riding tips.”

“And deepthroating tips! Very helpful!” Rose added.

“Not helpful,” Shane countered, so far beyond embarrassed that the sheer mortification had become background noise. “Can someone say something actually useful instead of going deeper into the philosophy of bottoming?”

He instantly regretted the choice of the word “deeper.” Fortunately, the room moved on. Hayden sighed and propped his elbows on his knees, running both hands through his hair. 

“Shane is right. The locker room is going to be a problem. The team group chat has been a cesspool since the news hit. He needs a strategy.”

Rose crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat, lips pressed together as she hesitated over something.

“Shane, I know maybe I don’t have the best insight here, not being a hockey player or a gay man or anything,” she said. “But it kinda seems to me like the best option is to just lean into it. Be proud. Get cocky. Sure, the whole world knows you’re gay and a bottom now, but they also know your boyfriend thinks you’re incredible in bed. Like, there are worse things.”

“At least it wasn’t an actual sex tape,” Hayden said in a deeply un-fucking-helpful manner.

Yuna clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Shane, there aren’t actually any sex videos, are there? Because if there are—”

“NO, Mom, I’m not actually an idiot,” Shane said, horrified at the phrase “sex videos” coming out of his mother’s mouth.

“Such a shame,” Ilya mused. “World would be lucky to have our video.”

Shane was pretty sure his blush had become a permanent condition.

“Rose is right, though,” Ilya continued. “Being a cocky asshole about sex is what locker rooms are all about. They make a crack about you riding dick, you tell them how often you get laid, how good it is. They make a crack about sucking dick, you brag about your skills. And you know what, if they try to make a crack about you being the submissive one, you tell them how pathetic I am for you, how I’m the one who broke the casual thing first. I don’t mind. It’s true.”

“It’s not—”

“It is,” Ilya insisted. “I’m the one who asked you to stay the first time. I’m the one who pushed for more. I said I love you first. I am the one who is, how do they say now… down bad?”

“Catastrophically down bad,” Rose added with a snort.

“What she said,” Ilya said. “Just tell them. I don’t mind. Actually, I want you to. I want everyone to know that I fell so hard for you that I was willing to risk everything. Let Hayden back you up on it.”

Hayden grinned. “Trust me, I’d be delighted to tell everyone how much of a giant simp you are for Shane. This is a great plan. Full approval.”

Ilya rolled his eyes but remarkably let it go. 

“And look, if it makes you feel better, I will stop reigning myself in so much,” he said. “I have always been… what is word, they can tell I’m queer?”

“Clockable,” Rose offers.

Ilya points at her in confirmation. “Yes. I have always been clockable, so I have to tone myself down. In America, I get away with a lot more, but everyone just waves it away like, oh, he’s European. No, I’m fucking queer, you blind assholes. I can be even less subtle, if it helps.”

“You don’t need to make yourself more of a target just to take the heat off of me,” Shane insisted.

“I would do it gladly,” Ilya said. “Besides, is not exactly a hardship for me to finally be more myself without worrying how gay it makes me seem. I am already out now. I already cannot go home. I have my green card, so I should be safe from deportation.”

“We have the best immigration lawyers on your case, Ilya. You will be safe no matter what,” Yuna chimed in. Ilya shot her a crooked smile.

“Thank you. So I may as well use this new freedom.”

Silence reigned for a moment while Shane took everything in. Finally, his father, who had been quiet through the whole exchange, nodded his approval.

“I think Rose and Ilya are right,” he said. “I haven’t been in a locker room since college, but it doesn’t sound like things have changed much. I don’t think you can sweep this under the rug, son. If you try to ignore it, they will eat you alive. You have to channel your inner Ilya for this one, I think.”

Shane sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know if I have an inner Ilya.”

“I would be happy to fix that for you,” Ilya added, dodging Shane’s instant retaliatory swat.

“You’re the worst,” Shane shot back with a glare.

Ilya smirked.

“Come on, Shane,” he said, hooking a finger through one of his belt loops and tugging him closer. “All these years they have thought you were an uptight prude. Isn’t there even a small part of you that wants to shove in their faces how good you’ve been getting laid this whole time?” 

And finally, finally, Shane let the tiniest bit of a smug smile curl at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe a bit,” he admitted. 

Ilya’s eyes went dark. 

“Well, then. Time for you to show off a little, yes?”

###

Shane and Hayden rode to practice together that day, aiming to get there right on time instead of Shane’s usual thirty minutes early. It was best to get the first confrontation over in front of everyone, they’d decided, rather than having to repeat the whole thing over again as new homophobes arrived. Shane’s breathing started to go ragged as Hayden pulled into the parking lot, and he thunked his head back against the headrest as soon as the car stopped.

“I don’t know if I can do it, Hayd,” he said, watching the last stragglers make their way through the player entrance to the practice rink. “They’ll never buy it.”

“You got this, buddy,” Hayden said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Find your inner Rozanov. I’ll back you up. Besides, you can be cocky as fuck about your skills on the ice under the right circumstances. Why not this too? You’re apparently so good you managed to lock down Boston’s most notorious fuckboy—”

Shane clenched his teeth. “Can we please stop—”

“No,” Hayden said simply, opening the car door and grabbing his gear bag. “The whole point is to not stop. Fucking own it, man. You gotta get into that mindset right now before we ever walk through that door.”

Shane’s phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down and found a series of texts from Ilya.

Lily:

You’re the best I’ve ever had, and you’re the hottest man in the league

Lily:

Let those fuckers know who you are

Lily:

Also, for inspiration:

A shirtless selfie in Shane’s home gym mirror followed with Ilya sweating and glorious, his low slung joggers barely clinging to his hips. Inspiring, indeed. Shane wanted to lick his chest, wanted to drop to his knees and put every tip he’d taught Rose to use.

Show off a little, Ilya had said.

He could do that.

He had a lot to show off, after all.

Shane saved the photo to his camera roll and favorited it because hey, it was all out in the open, so he could do that now. Then, he pocketed his phone and looked to Hayden, a grin creeping onto his lips.

“Let’s go. I’ve got this.”

Shane led the way, head held high as he walked into the locker room with Hayden following close behind. He knew it would take no time at all for the first shot to be fired.

He was right. 

“Hollander, heard Rozanov is in town,” Comeau said. “Surprised you can walk this morning with all the dick you’ve been taking.”

There it was. Shane took a breath and summoned up every bit of locker room bravado he’d ever absorbed, then painted on a smirk and shot back.

“Hell yeah, man, came so hard I almost blacked out the last time.”

Hayden burst out laughing. Comeau choked on his own spit. 

“Gross, dude. No one wants to hear that,” he protested.

Shane shrugged. “Hey, you brought it up. At least I’m getting laid. More than some of you fuckers can say.”

He turned to his stall and saw someone had shoved a cowboy hat inside. He plopped it proudly on his head.

“Fucking cocksucker,” someone else grumbled. Drapeau, by the looks of it.

“Hey, some of us have skills off the ice, too. Tell your girlfriend to call me if she wants tips,” Shane shot back.

That got a few laughs. A bit of the tension eased. After a beat, Comeau tried again.

“How does it feel knowing your little boyfriend has stuck his dick in half of Boston?”

Shane turned and shot him a look that said oh, you poor innocent child.

“You’ve heard of casual sex, right?” Shane retorted. “We started fucking when we were nineteen, man, it was never supposed to be anything more. Whoops.”

That got a reaction. The room exploded with laughs, jeers, and disbelieving exclamations.

“Nineteen? Are you fucking serious?” Couillard finally managed. “What was that, your rookie year?”

“The summer before, but yeah, he’s been sucking my dick since before he ever went to Boston, before I ever met you fuckers.”

“Jesus Christ,” Comeau muttered, turning away in disgust.

“And what, you just caught feelings along the way?” Couillard continued, unphased.

Shane shrugged, removing the cowboy hat just long enough to change his shirt. “Yeah, man, it happens. You’ve never had a situationship turn into something else?”

“That’s how my wife and I got together,” Mitty said. “It definitely happens.”

A tiny show of support which Drapeau could not let stand, of course. 

“So what, you rode his dick and got it so bad you had to beg for more?” he spat.

Hayden barked another laugh and shook his head.

“Other way around, actually,” Shane said. “Not the dick riding, that’s all me, but he’s the one who tried to make things serious.”

JJ absolutely howled. “Fuckboy Rozanov caved first? Really?” 

Shane shrugged. 

“I didn’t take it well, actually. Freaked out and went and dated Rose for a while. It was never supposed to be anything and then it was and I was a dick about it,” he said, because sadly, being a dick to a lover was also locker room currency. An expression of dominance. He sent a mental apology to Ilya.

A few stalls down, Taylor’s eyes went wide in sudden realization. “Oh my god, that’s why Rozanov played like such shit for a few months last season. You fucking broke up with him and he forgot how to play hockey?”

Shane grimaced, his smug mask slipping slightly.

“I feel really bad about it, actually. I was shitty to him,” he admitted, flopping down on the bench to lace up his skates.

Gagnon shook his head, looking at Shane with derision. “Seriously, that Rose Landry pussy wasn’t enough for you?” 

Another mental apology, this time to Rose. She didn’t deserve to be spoken about like that, but now wasn’t the time. Instead, Shane rolled his eyes like Gagnon was stupid.

“Man, I’m fucking gay, it was never going to work. It was just one last ditch effort to be what everyone expected me to be. Rose really is great, so I hoped I could get past it, but man, pussy is not for me. More for you guys, I guess.”

That got another laugh.

JJ waved his arms in the air to cut off the discussion. “Hold on, let’s get back to the fact that Ilya fucking Rozanov was down so bad for you that he played like shit for two months. That was the worst slump of his career, no?”

Hayden chuckled, slinging an arm around Shane’s shoulder. “Can confirm, the dude is hopelessly whipped. He’d probably let Shane drag him around on a leash.”

“Now you’re just giving me ideas,” Shane said with a laugh, and he was surprised to hear half the locker room laugh with him. It really was working. 

Now for the real test. He removed the cowboy hat and chucked it in his stall.

“Okay, if you’re all done jerking off about my sex life, let’s get the fuck out on the ice and get ready to destroy the Admirals tomorrow. Let’s go, move it!”

To his surprise, they did.

And practice went off mostly without a hitch.

A few of the guys were still noticeably quiet and distant. Comeau was clearly uncomfortable. So was Drapeau. But most of the rest of the guys seemed… almost more comfortable with him. Lines clicked. Passes connected. Drills were clean. They listened to Shane’s direction without hesitation. And afterward, in the locker room, things were… fine. Almost normal. He was just one of the guys, showering, getting changed, joking around, talking about evening plans. When someone suggested grabbing a quick beer down the road, a hand clapped on his shoulder.

“Coming with, Hollzy? Or you gonna be too busy getting fucked?” Laine asked. Shane was surprised to hear absolutely no disgust or malice in it.

He grinned. 

“I’ve got time for both, I guess. I’ll be there.”

He paused to text Ilya before heading out.

Shane:

It went well. Gonna grab a beer with some of the guys.

Shane:

Sorry to not come right back home to see you but I think it’s important right now.

Lily:

You’re right. I’m glad it worked. See you after.

Lily:

Maybe you can get some riding practice in 🤠

Shane:

Promises, promises.

Shane wore the cowboy hat out the door.

###

That evening, after a farewell dinner with his parents and Rose, Shane lay on the couch between Ilya’s splayed legs, head pillowed on Ilya’s shoulder, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the slow comb of Ilya’s fingers through his hair.

The day had been at least a hundred hours long, and Shane’s head felt fuzzy and heavy with emotional exhaustion. The reaction to their statement online had been largely positive, and things had gone as well as they possibly could for Shane. There were endless PR requests pouring in, but his mother was handling all of that and had promised to give them a few days to breathe before she started scheduling interviews.

Ilya’s lips brushed over his temple, his hum a low rumble that Shane felt more than heard.

“Do you want to talk about it now, solnyshko?” Ilya asked.

Shane sighed, trying to wrangle his thoughts into some kind of order. He was still processing it all and probably would be for days, but he did feel like he needed to talk. All he needed were words. The cowboy hat on the coffee table took him back to the locker room, to that feeling of owning it.

“You were right. It worked exactly like you said it would,” he began slowly, trying to pinpoint exactly where his lingering discomfort was coming from. It was something like shame, but also a weird sort of… pride? Ilya stayed quiet and let him continue at his own pace.

“Look, I really hate playing into all the gross locker room culture stuff, but there was a part of me that… kinda liked it?” Shane admitted. “My whole career I’ve never been able to contribute to any kind of talk in the locker room unless it was about hockey. I was always just weird and quiet and awkward. But today, I think I genuinely shocked some people. Like, I don’t think I realized just how much of my quiet awkwardness was because I was trying so hard to hide. Now that I can’t hide anymore, it’s like I have to get to know myself all over again. What am I even like when I’m not hiding?”

“That makes sense,” Ilya said. “But it felt good?”

The shame again, but Shane stayed honest. “Yeah. It did. Though, sorry to say, I did kind of have to throw you under the bus a bit.”

“Throw me… what?”

“I mean, I had to do what you said. Tell them you made things serious first, that you were down bad. They figured out that you were playing like shit when I was with Rose because we broke up.”

Ilya waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t mind. It’s all true. And it’s all worth it. I want you to be safe. And happy.”

“I think I am,” Shane said, surprised at just how much he meant it. “I think they might even respect me more now, which is kind of fucked up. Of all the ways I thought this could turn out, that was not a possibility that I had even considered. And now that I’m part of it instead of an obvious outsider, maybe I can start to change things a little. Shut down the slurs, shut down the misogyny. I’m not proud of the way I had to talk today, the things I had to let slide. But one thing at a time, right?”

“One thing at a time,” Ilya agreed. “You will get there. Maybe one day the Metros locker room will not be hot fucking garbage.”

Ilya’s hand that wasn’t occupied with Shane’s hair drifted to Shane’s stomach, sliding up under the hem of his shirt to run over his muscled stomach on his way to squeezing Shane’s pec.

“I wish I could have seen you in that locker room, talking filthy and owning who you are,” Ilya purred in his ear. “I love it when you get cocky. You’re so fucking hot.”

Shane threw his head back, offering his neck up for Ilya’s mouth and letting his eyes flutter closed when Ilya obliged. So the whole world knew he was gay and a bottom. It was much harder to care when Ilya’s hands and mouth were on him.

“I think I’d like to do something really fucking gay with you right now,” Shane said, pressing back as Ilya hardened beneath him.

“I live to serve,” Ilya said, his hand drifting down to grip Shane’s hip and pull him closer. “What do you want, moya lyubov?”

Shane flipped over and straddled Ilya, swiping the cowboy hat off the table and dropping it on his head. He leaned in and spoke his words just inches from Ilya’s lips.

“Give me something I can show off in the locker room tomorrow,” he said. 

Ilya grinned.

“With pleasure.”