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:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Top Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Shane Hollander, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Ilya Rozanov Has Good Gaydar, Shane Hollander Has a Spreadsheet, Oblivious Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander not realizing when he's being flirted with, to be very clear they fuck other people in this, but they get silly with it

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-18 Words: 6,435 Chapters: 1/1

Another Notch In Your Hockey Stick

Summary

“Next time?”
“Yeah, we play Montreal in two weeks.”

Shane and Ilya DO meet up that day, have amazing sex, and then get into an argument that somehow results in a gaydar competition to see who can sus out (and fuck) the most MLH players.

Winner gets…¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Notes

we're just having fun here, don't think about it too hard

"That was so fucking hot."

Shane can't believe he just had another man's dick in his ass. And not just any man's dick—Ilya fucking Rozanov's. He also can't believe he'd ever been nervous about it at all; it had felt so good. He'd never come so hard before, and never hands-free.

"Yes," Ilya agrees, nodding. He's panting and sweaty, lying next to Shane on the bed.

"When can we do that again?" Shane asks, already missing the feeling. It had been two weeks since they last saw each other, and that was already a long enough wait when it had just been blowjobs and hands. But this? Shane can't imagine going without it now.

Ilya rolls over to face him, a playful grin on his lips. "I think I will need at least twenty minutes."

With a laugh, Shane says, “I mean after tonight."

"Ah, already you are desperate for more? You are lucky I found you."

Shane furrows his brows. "What do you mean, found me?"

"You are lucky I could tell you are like me." Seeing the look of confusion still on Shane's face, Ilya leans closer and clarifies. "That you were curious." He leans back, crossing his arms behind his head. "If not for me, would you have kept your dick to yourself? Just stay home with your dildo?"

Shane doesn't know if Ilya is teasing him or actually asking. "I... I could've found somebody else." Shane doesn't fully believe his own words—he probably would be home alone, reading a book or doing something equally boring compared to anal sex—but he doesn't like Ilya taking all the credit. Shane gave him his room number before their first hookup! He's an equal participant in this!

Ilya shakes his head. "No, no. You did not find me, I found you. You were not looking. And if you were looking, I do not think you would see."

Shane sits up and crosses his arms. "I wouldn't see? You jerked off at me in the showers—it was kind of hard to miss."

Ilya sits up as well, seemingly noticing the edge creeping into Shane's tone. He lets out a laugh. "Yes, that you did see. But how many signs did I give before? Many. I had to jerk off at you because you did not take any other hint. Why are you mad?"

"I'm not mad," Shane says, mad.

Ilya reaches out, placing a hand on Shane's arm, as if to comfort him. But Shane jerks his arm away. "You don't think I could find someone else who's g—curious?" He's not even sure what's bothering him so much about this—Ilya did seek him out, make the first move. But Shane introduced himself first; he was drawn to Ilya for reasons he didn't have words for at the time. Maybe back then he didn't see. But that was a few blowjobs and a dick in his ass ago. Shane thinks his vision might be better now.

"I do not think you have—what is it called—gaydar. Is like X-ray vision for men who like cock."

Shane rolls his eyes at Ilya acting like some kind of expert. "You've been with one other guy as, what, teenagers? Maybe you're the lucky one for finding me."

"Oh?" Ilya looks delighted at this side of Shane. "You think you have gaydar? You think you can find someone else the way I found you?"

"There's this thing called Grindr."

Ilya playfully smacks Shane's hand. "No, that is cheating. I did not find you on Grindr. Besides, I do not think Shane Hollander can go on Grindr without media finding out."

"Well, I wouldn't actually do that."

"There need to be limits. Only MLH players."

The conversation has taken such a sharp turn that Shane's not even sure what they're talking about anymore. "Only MLH players for what?"

"To fuck."

Shane is momentarily stunned. "Wait, can we go back a few steps—what are we talking about?"

"If you think you can find someone the way I found you—an MLH player—prove it. Find one and fuck him."

A laugh escapes Shane. "Are you serious?"

"I am serious. You act like is so simple, then do it."

A huge grin stretches across Shane's face; he's inexplicably tickled by the idea. "And if I can do it, what do I get?"

Ilya shrugs. "You get to fuck an MLH player."

"Okay... I think I should get something else."

"Like what?"

"You fuck me?"

Ilya fixes him with an incredulous stare. "I will do that anyway."

"Oh! Right, okay. Well, then that's the deal. If I fuck another MLH player, then you fuck me."

"Yes, and if you can't find anyone... I will still fuck you."

Shane nods. "Yeah, good deal."

Ilya thinks for a moment. "No, let's make this a bet. We will both try to find MLH players to fuck. So I am not bored. And whoever fucks more, wins. We already have one each; we are tied."

Hearing that they're already tied from fucking each other immediately awakens Shane's competitiveness. They each have a point—the game has already started. "Okay, so whoever wins, what do they get?"

"Lots of sex, it sounds like."

“Cool.”

~

Shane - Attempt #1

Shane's first game after making the bet with Ilya is in Buffalo. He'd already gone over all the Metros in his mind, but he decided even if there were any candidates on his team—and he's not sure there are—it wouldn't be smart to proposition a teammate. Frankly, none of this is smart the more he thinks about it. But he can't stop thinking about it. What if Ilya's already fucked somebody? Shane could be losing already, and he can't have that.

The entire game, Shane scans the Buffalo players, trying to activate his gaydar—he must have it. He's had sex with a man, surely that gives him at least a free trial? What did Ilya see in him—how did he know about Shane? And how can Shane see it in someone else? Fuck, maybe this is going to be harder than he thought.

The Metros won and are heading out to a club, but Shane overhears some Buffalo players mention what bar they're going to. Shane is focused on winning an entirely different game now, so he tells Hayden he's calling it an early night, then takes a cab to the bar. Maybe his gaydar will work better without helmets and mouth guards in the way.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Shane turns to find an attractive man smiling at him. "Oh, no thanks, I've already got one." He holds up his sparkling water.

"Are you having a good night?"

Shane studies the man's face. He doesn't look familiar. "Do you play for Buffalo?"

"Play?"

"You're not a hockey player?"

The man shakes his head, smiling. "No, but do you want—"

"Sorry, I'm actually waiting for somebody." Shane abruptly turns back around, not wanting to lose sight of the few players he does recognize. One of which is currently walking up to the bar.

"Oh hey, good game," Shane tells him, casually taking a sip of his water.

The player—Pete Wendel #55, holder of the franchise record for blocked shots—does a double-take. "Hollander? What are you doing here?"

"I, uh, was supposed to meet someone, but they got held up." Shane is suddenly nervous as hell. Something as crazy as jerking off in a shower at someone seems less anxiety-inducing than trying to make small-talk at a bar. At least when the intent is to try to fuck them. "Come here often?" Shane wants to crawl into a hole and die.

"Yeah, our coach is part-owner, so we get free drinks when we win."

"Oh shit, sorry," Shane says, smiling. "Can I buy you a drink? I guess I owe you."

Pete looks surprised at the offer, then nods. "Sure! Thanks. That was a beauty of a goal in the third."

Shane shrugs. "Just got lucky."

"Oh yeah? I wish I had half your luck."

Shane laughs. It wasn't luck; he knew the exact angle to shoot over their goalie's shoulder, and he'd executed it flawlessly. But Shane's not one to brag. "So do you live nearby?"

"Yeah!" Pete says, sipping his drink. "My wife and I just got a house like twenty minutes from here, we needed more space for the kids. It's a really nice area."

Pete continues on, but Shane stops listening after the word 'wife'. Fuck. He needs to start googling the teams first, figure out who's single. He can start a spreadsheet to keep track of everyone and stop wasting time on ineligible players.

Shane puts his drink on the bar. "Hey, it was great catching up, Wendy. But my friend just texted me; I'm going to meet them outside."

He doesn't even want to try the other guys, he needs more information first. Needs to play it right.

Shane realizes he also needs to understand the rules better. He texts Ilya.

Jane: What counts as sex?

Lily: Canada did not teach you sex ed? 🙁

Jane: Fuck off. Like would a handjob count?

Lily: Did someone give you handjob?

Jane: No

Lily: Then it does not count

Jane: But what if someone DID?

Lily: If someone makes you come, yes, obviously is sex.

Jane: Are we still tied?

Lily: For now.

~

Ilya - Attempt #1

It was almost too easy. Ilya texted Chase Wilson after the Raiders game against Minnesota—they’d been on an All-Star team together—asking which hotel he was in. And Wilson had replied almost instantly, room number and all.

Ilya had noticed Wilson checking him out in the showers at the All-Stars on at least two occasions. Now, some guys take a quick glance out of curiosity, or even insecurity—some will follow up with questions about training (you lift, bro?). But some, like Wilson, will avert their eyes when caught and pretend it didn’t happen. Just a simple mistake; it didn’t mean anything. Usually it doesn’t. But Ilya had wondered…

Now, looking down at Wilson, eagerly sucking Ilya’s cock against the hotel room door, he doesn’t need to wonder.

“Da,” Ilya breathes out, fisting his hand in Wilson’s thick blond hair. His technique is a little sloppy, not unlike Hollander’s first time, but Ilya enjoys his sheer enthusiasm. Plus, he’s a goalie. That should earn Ilya an extra point, or half at least. Wilson finds a better rhythm and Ilya’s breath hitches in his throat. He realizes he probably can’t claim any extra points without outing Wilson—he and Shane hadn’t discussed it, but it seems obvious now they can’t share the names of the players with each other. Fuck.

"Fuck,” Ilya groans, his orgasm taking him by surprise. He’d been thinking of Shane. He glances down at Wilson, worried he might be offended by Ilya coming in his mouth. But he’s staring up at Ilya with a smile on his face, licking his lips.

Ilya has earned his point and could leave right now, but that wouldn’t be very sportsmanlike. He gets Wilson on the bed and returns the favour, thinking the whole time that “Chase” is kind of a stupid name. He wants to joke with Shane that it didn’t take much chasing to take the lead in their little competition, but he knows he can’t. Just like Chase Wilson better keep his mouth shut about Ilya.

"Oh my fucking God,” Wilson moans, about to come. Ilya pulls his mouth off and finishes him with his hand, watching him intently as he comes. Wilson is attractive, but his O face almost makes Ilya giggle. Maybe he can tell Shane some details, but still leave the names out of it. Ilya craves seeing Shane's O face again—it’s a thing of beauty, just like the rest of him.

”Was fun,” Ilya says, wiping his hand off in some Kleenex.

"Yeah.” Wilson stares at the ceiling, looking dazed. Ilya wonders if this was his first time, but doesn’t ask. They both got what they came here for, no need to complicate things with conversation.

After checking that the coast is clear, Ilya leaves the hotel room, grinning to himself.

Lily: 2-1 😘

Jane: 🖕

~

Shane - Attempt #2

Shane spends several days building up his spreadsheet of potentially eligible MLH players before trying again. It involved a lot of Instagram stalking and lurking hockey gossip threads on Reddit and Twitter.

At today's home game against Toronto, he has two candidates in mind: Marc Aucoin and Shawn Riles. Shane decides to focus on Aucoin because he puts up more points than Riles. Plus he's hotter. Curly dark hair, bright blue eyes, light stubble—the picture of rugged French Canadian beauty. Maybe going after someone he's actually attracted to will yield better results. After all, he was attracted to Ilya. Maybe that's all Ilya had picked up on, and Shane could stop stressing about this gaydar nonsense. It's a made-up word anyway.

Shane sticks with the same strategy as last time—going to the same club the Guardians are heading to after the game. At least this time he didn't have to try to overhear anything; Toronto always goes to the same place when they're in town. Shane is the first out of the showers and beelines to the club, waving off questions from his teammates as he leaves, so he can be there first. Posted up at the bar with a sparkling water in hand, Shane keeps his eyes fixed on the entrance.

Based on his research, Aucoin does tend to go out with teammates after games, his party-percentage even higher during away games. He sees some Toronto players start filtering into the club, and starts getting excited. Fuck it. He orders a beer.

After another beer, Shane allows a pretty woman to lead him onto the dance floor. He's been eyeing Aucoin for almost an hour, and he manoeuvres himself and the woman closer to him. Beer in hand, he makes a split-second decision—he raises his arms, holding the woman's hand in one, pretending it's part of their dance. With his other hand, he pours his beer over Aucoin. 

"Oh shit, sorry about that!" Shane says, faking surprise. Aucoin looks annoyed but says it's fine, leaving the dance floor in the direction of the bathrooms. Shane follows close behind, apologizing the whole way. Once in the bathroom, Shane grabs a bunch of paper towels, patting them awkwardly against Aucoin's muscular chest—well, the beer-soaked shirt covering it.

"Hollander?" Aucoin asks, finally getting a good look at him.

"Oh, hey!" Shane says, pretending he's only just recognized Aucoin as well. "Good game tonight." The Guardians won, but if Shane can make this happen, it will take the edge off the loss.

"Yeah, it was a close one." Aucoin takes the paper towels from Shane, taking over the clean-up job. Shane glances around the small room; it's just the two of them.

Shane swallows the lump in his throat, thinking of Ilya's comment about not being able to take a hint. There's no time for subtlety—Ilya's already a point ahead.

"You ever get really horny after a game?" Shane asks, casually, like he's asking if Aucoin prefers Coke or Pepsi.

Aucoin's hands still; he stares at Shane questioningly.

Shane takes the expectant silence as a good sign. With a small step forward, he continues, "I don't know what to do with myself sometimes. Especially after a loss, you know? Like something's missing."

He's inches from Aucoin's face, Aucoin's blue eyes still staring into his. The second Shane sees them flick down to his lips, Shane leans forward, his heart hammering in his chest. This could go so wrong, so fast. But Aucoin's lips open for Shane, and their tongues explore each other's mouths. Shane enjoys the tickle of his stubble—the only other man he's kissed until now has been Ilya, who is usually clean-shaven.

They pull apart, panting. Aucoin looks immediately at the door—anybody could walk in at any moment.

"Where's your hotel?" Shane asks breathlessly.

Aucoin tells him, and after a quick calculation, Shane says, "My place is closer."

Aucoin nods.

A short cab ride later, Shane is opening his apartment door for Marc Aucoin #16, drafted third overall one year ahead of Shane. Once the door closes behind them, they kiss with a rising hunger. And Shane realizes he does get horny after hockey games. His body thrums with excitement at the very real possibility of getting fucked tonight. Shane pulls Aucoin's shirt off, dropping it on the floor, then kisses his neck. He tastes like beer.

Aucoin reaches for Shane's fly as Shane pulls his own shirt off. He runs his hands over Aucoin's chest, threading his fingers through the dark hair. Different from Ilya. Aucoin drops to his knees, smoothly pulling Shane's pants and underwear down. He takes Shane's cock in his mouth with a groan that sends a shiver up Shane's spine.

"Yes," Shane moans, closing his eyes and dropping his head back.

"Can't wait for you to fuck me," Aucoin murmurs over his dick.

Shane's eyes snap open. "Wait, what?"

Aucoin slides his mouth off Shane's dick. "Of all people, I never would've expected you, Hollander. You're like the best player in the league." He stands up to kiss Shane again.

"You're not so bad yourself," Shane says with a smile as they pull apart. "But actually, um..." He doesn't know how to broach the topic.

Aucoin tilts his head expectantly, stroking Shane with his hand as he waits.

"I was kind of... hoping you would fuck me?"

"Oh." Aucoin drops his hand from Shane's dick, looking disappointed. "Yeah, no, I'm not really into that."

Neither is Shane. The energy between them vanishes instantly, like someone popped the balloon full of their sexual tension.

"Well, this is awkward," Aucoin says with a small laugh. "Getting fucked by Captain Shane Hollander would have been hot."

Not as hot as getting fucked by Captain Ilya Rozanov, but Shane keeps that thought to himself. Aucoin looks around the floor for his shirt, and only when he pulls it on does Shane realize he intends to leave. "Wait, I need to suck you off at least." Shane's not going to let a point go that easily.

"What?"

"I mean, you came all this way. Let me at least, uh, take care of you." Smooth recovery. Shane pulls his pants back up, then approaches Aucoin, reaching for his zipper. He kisses him, trying to reignite the spark they had when they first walked in. Aucoin returns the kiss, and soon Shane is on his knees earning the hell out of that point.

Jane: 2-2 🙄

Lily: Why rolly eyes?

Jane: He was a bottom.

Lily: 😂

Lily: What a waste. Send him to me.

Jane: Fuck off. Find your own.

Lily: 😏

~

Ilya - Attempt #2

"Hey! Who is interested in threesome with me?"

Ilya scans the group of hockey players, looking for any interesting reactions. This is the third group he's asked tonight in the noisy New York club. The Raiders had just annihilated the Admirals, and Ilya had invited his team along to the Admirals after-game outing, to the annoyance of both teams. Ilya eyes Carter Vaughn, hoping for any signs from him. He's very attractive. Most of the guys laugh him off or roll their eyes, including Vaughn.

It's Scott Hunter that ends up drawing Ilya's eye—the way he'd side-eyed Ilya at the question, followed by a discreet glance up and down Ilya's body. He's not someone Ilya would have expected—or necessarily wanted—but he's intrigued. Hunter must be eight or so years older than Ilya; if Ilya is correct in his assumption, Hunter has been able to keep his secret from the MLH for over a decade. Impressive.

Later in the night, Ilya is able to corner Hunter near the back of the bar. "We will have threesome, yes?"

Hunter looks unamused. "Fuck off, Rozanov."

Ilya smiles. "You looked interested, hm? Will be good for your confidence after losing so badly."

Hunter glances around. "Threesome with who?"

"Who would you like?"

"You're going around asking people to join a threesome when you don't even have a third in mind?"

Ilya leans in closer, whispering, "Maybe a third is not necessary for this particular threesome."

Hunter's jaw tenses. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do." Ilya leans further into Hunter's personal space. "Take me home with you. Will be fun."

They stare at each other for a few moments, Hunter looking hesitant. But Ilya catches his eyes flicking to his lips, notices the shallow breaths he's taking. Ilya holds his gaze, not backing down. Up close, Hunter is even more attractive than Ilya realized—even if Hunter is too old for him, maybe it could still be fun.

Quietly, Hunter asks, "Are you fucking with me?"

"No," Ilya says, his face serious. "Take me home with you."

Shockingly, Hunter does just that.

"This looks like home of a grandma," Ilya says, scanning the room. It's actually quite nice, and obviously very expensive, but a bit boring for Ilya's taste. He turns to see Hunter leaning in the doorway, eyeing Ilya like he's still trying to decide if he's being fucked with. "You ever fuck MLH player before?"

Hunter slowly shakes his head.

"But you have fucked men?"

After a pause, Hunter nods. Ilya smiles and steps closer, reaching up to pull his face down into a kiss. "What about being fucked? You like it?"

"Sometimes," Hunter murmurs.

"Hm."

Their kiss grows deeper, more urgent, until they're tearing each other's clothes off. Ilya isn't used to such sexual confidence from another man. Even after experimenting with Sasha for a few years, they were still little more than fumbling teenagers in hindsight. But Hunter's touch is firm, experienced, not nervous at all. He may have been hiding his personal life from the MLH, but he's clearly been having a personal life, and something about that turns Ilya on even more. Maybe there's hope for him and Shane. People like him and Shane, Ilya corrects himself.

Hunter leads him to the bedroom, and Ilya pushes him onto the bed. Hunter scoots further back and Ilya follows him, eagerly taking his cock in his mouth.

"Fucking hell, Rozanov."

Ilya enthusiastically works up to deep-throating him, Hunter's hands tangling in Ilya's hair. Ilya wanted to fuck him, but he can't stop now—Hunter's cock feels too good in his mouth, the noises he's making too addictive. Ilya wants to make Hunter come like this. And after several toe-curling minutes, he does.

Ilya swallows down every last drop with Hunter panting breathlessly and staring down at him in awe. Ilya crawls up the bed to straddle him. Holding Hunter’s gaze, Ilya jerks himself off with just a few quick strokes, finishing all over Hunter's toned chest and stomach.

"Fuck," Ilya gasps, rolling off him. "I really wanted to fuck you."

Hunter laughs. "You still can, we just need to wait a bit."

Ilya briefly wonders if twice with the same person would count as two points, but no, that would be too easy. "Twice in one night? Can your heart take that at your age?"

With a roll of his eyes, Hunter gets up. He pulls a small towel out of the bedside drawer to clean himself with. "Why were you going around asking everybody to join a threesome?" 

"I was horny," Ilya says simply. He thinks Hunter wouldn't like being reduced to just a point in a sex game he's not part of.

Hunter holds up the towel. "Yeah, clearly."

Ilya watches Hunter pull on some pyjama pants. An idea suddenly comes to him. "So you fuck both ways?"

"Like do I top and bottom? Yeah."

"And you can keep secret?"

"I'm not going to tell anybody about this, if that's what you're asking."

"You are good at topping?"

Hunter flops back onto the bed next to Ilya. He raises his eyebrows. "You want me to top you?"

Ilya shakes his head. "No, somebody else. You will have to let him seduce you."

Now Hunter looks even more confused. "...What?"

Lily: 3-2 😇

Jane: 😑

Jane: Not for long.

~

Shane - Attempt #3.5

Shane is steps away from the bar, feeling scandalous about having just been sucked off in a bathroom stall by Tate Gilroy #62 of the Admirals, current league leader in penalty minutes, and absurdly proud that his spreadsheet is having such a high success rate. He's trying to think of something funny to text Ilya along with the tying score when he hears a familiar voice behind him.

"Hey, Hollander!"

Shane turns to see Scott Hunter jogging after him.

"Mr. Hunter! Good goals tonight," Shane says, extending his hand for a handshake. It had been a close game for the first two periods, but the Admirals pulled ahead in the third, the Metros losing 5-3. Not the best showing on home ice, but it happens.

Hunter smiles, firmly gripping Shane's hand. "Please don't call me that." He glances back at the bar. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, it's been a long night." He feels a little guilty about not reciprocating with Gilroy, but Gilroy had gotten nervous about getting caught, and Shane hadn't exactly loved the hygiene factor of doing that in a public bathroom anyway. It still counts as a point, and tomorrow's game is against the Raiders—Shane had to at least tie the score before seeing Ilya again.

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"Sure, yeah," Shane says, surprised. Scott Hunter wants to walk him home?

They fall into step alongside each other, and Shane starts comfortably talking hockey, both praising and criticizing the Admirals' performance. Before long they're standing in front of Shane's building.

"Okay, well, goodn—"

"Mind if I come up?" Hunter asks. At Shane's hesitation, he adds, "I could really use a glass of water, if that's okay."

"Oh, of course! That's no problem." Shane leads them up to his place, worrying about how clean his apartment is. He doesn't want Scott Hunter to think he's some kind of slob. Once inside, he grabs a bottle of water from his fridge and hands it to Hunter, expecting him to take it and leave. But Hunter walks past Shane into the kitchen and takes a seat. Shane quickly glances around, relieved to confirm that nothing looks out of place or messy. 

"Nice place," Hunter says, drinking the water.

Shane hovers in the doorway, confused about why Hunter is staying. "Yeah, I like it. I'm thinking of buying the place next door, too." 

Hunter nods. "Cool."

A moment of silence passes. Hunter's water bottle is empty.

"Maybe you could give me a tour?" Hunter suggests.

"Okay. Well—this is the kitchen." Shane points out the doorway behind him. "That's the living room. There's a bathroom by the front door and another off my bedroom."

"Could I see the bedroom?"

Is Scott Hunter looking for real estate in Montreal or something? "I guess?"

Hunter stands and follows Shane up the stairs.

Once they cross into the room, Shane holds out his hands like he's showing off the space. He feels like a realtor. "Pretty typical. It has a fireplace."

Hunter nods, looking around. He glances at Shane, a crease in his brows. Shane stares back, equally confused.

"I'm starting to think I was being fucked with," Hunter says. "Just not the way I thought."

"What?"

He shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Nevermind. I thought—nah. I should go."

Shane knows he's missing something, and it's going to bother him if he doesn't find out what it is. "No, what did you think?"

"I... I mean, I invited myself into your apartment. And then into your bedroom? Maybe put those pieces together?"

"Is it real estate related?"

Hunter claps his hands together. "Okay! I'm gonna go. Have a good night, Hollander."

Shane stands in his bedroom, dumbfounded, listening to Hunter's footsteps retreat down the stairs. Okay, not real estate related. Wait—

He quickly follows Hunter down the stairs, catching him as he's about to walk out the door. "You weren't on my spreadsheet."

"Your what?"

"Were you coming on to me?"

"Jesus Christ," Hunter says, rubbing a hand over his face.

Scott Hunter was coming on to Shane? A list of stats immediately starts running through his mind, each more impressive than the last. He hadn't even made it onto the spreadsheet! Never in a million years would Shane have suspected Scott Hunter of being gay, or bi, or whatever it is that had him inviting himself into Shane's bedroom late at night. Also... Shane can win. This will break the tie.

Shane steps closer to Hunter, gently taking his hand from his face. "Sorry, I, uh..." Can't take a hint, he hears in Ilya's voice. He smiles, tilting his face up to Hunter's. And even after all this, he's surprised when Hunter's lips press eagerly against his. He idly wonders how many other people he had missed on his spreadsheet as Hunter's tongue slips inside his mouth.

"Bedroom," Shane says, coming up for air. He hopes this goes better than it did with Aucoin.

Shane falls onto the bed with Hunter on top of him, kissing him hard. Their breathing grows heavier, their touches more insistent, as they pull each other's clothes off. Hunter tentatively licks the head of Shane's cock, lapping up the precum already leaking from the tip. Shane can't believe his eyes, but he can't hold his head up much longer to watch anyway, dropping it onto the pillows with a contented sigh. Hunter takes Shane fully in his mouth, sucking with practiced rhythm that has Shane squirming on the bed.

"Fuck me," Shane begs. He glances down, enjoying the hungry look in Hunter's eyes as he gazes back. Shane reaches over to his nightstand, pulling out lube and condoms, and tosses them haphazardly down at Hunter. His skill at blowjobs only promises good things ahead.

Hunter patiently and expertly works Shane open. By the time he's pressing his cock inside of him, Shane's ankles resting on Hunter's shoulders, Shane takes him easily, moaning with pleasure. Hunter starts slow, letting Shane adjust, but soon he's fucking him with more urgency. Images of Ilya flash through his mind. As good as this feels, he can't help comparing it to his only other experience. But he tries, shaking away the thoughts, focusing on the man inside him right now.

He lets his legs drop from Hunter's shoulders, and Hunter leans over him, kissing him as he places his hands under Shane's knees. He keeps Shane's legs pressed up, finding an angle that gets them both groaning and grunting uncontrollably.

"Holy shit, Mr. Hunter," Shane gasps out.

"Please don't call me that," Hunter says, punctuating each word with a thrust. "Especially right now."

Shane hooks a hand around the back of Hunter's neck, pulling him into a messy, breathless kiss. He clenches his eyes shut. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

Hunter starts jerking Shane's cock while fucking him deep. Shane can't last another second—he shoots his load all over himself as Hunter groans above him, the sight of Shane covered in his own cum immediately pushing him over the edge too.

Hunter stays inside Shane as he rides out the aftershocks, then slowly pulls out with a sigh of relief. He collapses next to Shane, breathing hard. "Goddamn, Hollander."

Out of breath, Shane laughs. "Same here." He's itching to text Ilya his updated score, but texting another guy while still in bed with someone is probably rude. It can wait.

Later, still lying in bed while Hunter showers, Shane reaches for his phone on the nightstand.

Jane: 4-3 🏅

Lily: Liar

Jane: I’m not lying

Lily: 🤨

Lily: Twice with one person does not count. If it does, I have 4 too

Jane: It was 2 different people. I win.

Lily: Win? I did not know there was deadline.

Jane: You’re here tomorrow. I figured that our next game would be the end.

Lily: Do not count chickens before hatching. Maybe I still fuck somebody before game.

Jane: Good luck 👍

~

Ilya - Attempt #??? (Profit)

Ilya walks into Shane's apartment after the game to find him looking smug. The Metros won 6-4, and Shane had won their little bet 4-3. Ilya had briefly considered propositioning Marly on the plane, and then again in the locker room. He'd wanted to at least try to tie Shane before seeing him. But it wasn't worth the trouble—it would only encourage Shane to keep pumping those numbers up. And Ilya thinks Shane has done enough pumping with people other than him.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Ilya asks, playing coy.

Shane smiles. "No congratulations?"

Ilya rolls his eyes, walking past Shane into the living room. He drops onto the couch, and pats the spot next to him. When Shane sits down, Ilya begrudgingly says, "Congratulations, Hollander."

"For what? The hockey game or the sex game?" 

Struggling not to smile at how much Shane is loving this, Ilya shrugs. "Fine, both. You win at hockey, and at fucking hockey players."

"So I'm going to get my prize?" Shane asks suggestively, leaning closer to Ilya.

This breaks through Ilya's resolve to play it cool, and he laughs. "Yes, I will fuck you for winning, even though we were going to fuck either way."

"I think it's more fun when I've earned it." Shane reaches into Ilya's lap, finding his cock already half-hard. Smiling, Shane leans in for a kiss.

"I just think is fun," Ilya mutters against his lips. He pulls his head back. "So what did you think?"

Shane's hand slips under Ilya's waistband, gripping his quickly hardening length. "Of what?"

"Of fucking other people? Did you figure out gaydar?"

"It was mostly good—kind of awkward sometimes." Shane climbs into Ilya's lap, straddling him. He presses soft kisses along Ilya's neck. "I made my own gaydar with a spreadsheet."

Ilya pulls his head away, laughing. "Spreadsheet? Of what?"

"Of players. Who's single, who's been seen out with women, who people speculate about online, stuff like that. I narrowed it down to the most likely potentials."

Shane says it so casually, like it's not a completely insane thing to do.

Ilya keeps laughing. "Can I see it?"

"No! That would be like outing people."

"How is a speculation spreadsheet outing? You did not fuck everybody on it, did you?"

Shane smacks Ilya's chest. "No, just two of them. And one who wasn't even on it."

Ilya smirks. "Hunter."

"How did you know?" Shane asks, aghast.

"I fucked him too. Then I told him to let you seduce him."

Shane stops stroking Ilya's dick, sitting back to look him in the eye. "What the fuck? Why? How did you even know he was gay?"

Running his hands over Shane's thighs, Ilya says, exasperated, "Gaydar, I tell you this already—I do not need a spreadsheet. And why? Because Hunter was good, and would be good to you. I was worried you were only finding other bottoms." He shakes his head pityingly. "I thought maybe you needed help."

Shane stares over Ilya's shoulder, letting that sink in, before he bursts out laughing. He buries his head in Ilya's neck until he gets himself under control. "Hunter was good, so thank you. I guess."

"Yes, he is both top and bottom. I think naughty Hunter gets around; he has been fucking for hundreds of years, yes?"

His head still against Ilya's neck, Shane asks, "So you fucked him fucked him?"

"Yes, I made him come twice in one night. I was afraid I might kill him with heart attack."

"He's really not that much older than us," Shane says, shooting Ilya a disapproving look. "And in my experience, he's in really good shape."

Ilya waves his hand dismissively. "Ugh, I do not want to hear about the experience other than it being good or bad."

Shane scoffs. "You're the one who sent him to me."

Reaching his hand into Shane's pants now, Ilya nods. "Yes, I am happy he was good to you." He strokes Shane's hard dick. "But contest is over now, hm?" He tilts his head up, bringing his lips to Shane's. They kiss slowly, searchingly. Shane brings his hand back to Ilya's dick.

Gazing into Shane's eyes, Ilya says, "If you keep using your spreadsheet, I do not want to know."

"Hmm?" Shane is looking back at him with confusion. "Why would I keep using it?"

"Because we do not see each other often. And now you know you can get this from others—and you should if you want. But I do not want to know anymore."

A smile plays at the corner of Shane's lips. "You're jealous?"

Ilya presses his thumb against the tip of Shane's dick, making him gasp in surprise. He rubs his precum down his length, increasing the speed of his strokes. "Yes," Ilya says. There's no point in lying.

"I don't need the spreadsheet anymore—I won."

"Ah, you won, so now you do not need to fuck ever again?" Ilya asks, skeptical.

Shane glances down at Ilya's hand rhythmically fisting over his dick. His breathing shallow, he says, "I mean, it was kind of fun. A little stressful. But none of them..." He raises his eyes to Ilya's. "They weren't you."

Ilya can't find words to respond to that, he just reaches out for Shane, pulling him tight against him, both their hands working furiously on the other's dick. Kissing, panting into each other's mouths, they reach orgasm within minutes—Shane erupts first, then uses his cum to finish Ilya off shortly after. Shane collapses against Ilya, and Ilya wraps his arms around him.

"You still need to fuck me later. That didn't count," Shane murmurs.

"Yes, yes, I will. You got me too worked up."

"Are you going to stop fucking other people?" Shane asks, resting his head on Ilya's shoulder.

"I never told you to stop fucking other people. You want me to stop?"

Shane shrugs, "No, I was just wondering."

Ilya thinks for a minute. "I will not fuck other men."

"Okay. Me neither."

Ilya smiles as he runs his fingers through Shane's hair. "You need to let me see spreadsheet."

After a pause, Shane says, "Ask me again later. After you fuck me. I might say yes then."

"Okay." Ilya brushes a soft kiss on the top of Shane's head. "I will ask again later."

~