Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Svetlana Vetrova, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, POV Ilya Rozanov, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Shane Hollander, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-28 Completed: 2026-05-12 Words: 16,671 Chapters: 3/3

Been waiting on that sunshine (I think I need that back)

Summary

“But we have always kissed, we -”

“I know.” Shane says, face blushing crimson. “But like I said, I don’t want to do that anymore. We can still see each other, because I like what we do, but we have to keep that part out of it. Please.”

Ilya breathes in and out. He tries to be rational. Shane’s requesting that something change in their arrangement. It should be a simple answer. Yes. Of course. If that’s a boundary he wants to set, then Ilya should obey it.

But the feeling of loss is so overwhelming he can barely stomach it.

or, after Vegas, Shane doesn't let Ilya kiss him anymore when they hook up. Ilya doesn't take it very well.

Notes

Title from the song 'Kiss it Better' by Rihanna.

Chapter 1

September 2014 - Montreal

Shane’s on him from the second Ilya gets through the door, not even saying hello. 

He pushes Ilya into the apartment by his biceps until his back hits the wall by the kitchen, then comes close enough that he can line up their thighs, hips and chests. The friction is divine as Ilya’s hands find Shane’s ass. 

They’re grinning at each other playfully - Ilya thinking to himself, I missed you so much. 

He leans in to kiss him the way he always does when they start, ready to relearn each other’s taste, connecting again. But Shane turns his head away when Ilya gets close, which immediately makes Ilya confused. 

Shane loves kissing. 

Ilya knows this for a fact. He’s always desperate for Ilya’s mouth. He loves his tongue down his throat or when Ilya latches onto his neck and softly bites. From the very first time, kissing has been a big part of their sex. 

It’s been…important to what they have between them. 

Ilya tries again, cups Shane’s chin and tries to bring their mouths together, desperate for it, but Shane avoids him for a second time and drops to his knees instead. He reaches for Ilya’s pants and tugs down the zipper, eagerly trying to get him naked which Ilya is definitely on board with. 

But he’s astonished to realize that he wants a kiss instead of a blowjob right now. 

So much that his chest hurts. 

He lets Shane suck him though, throwing his head back as Hollander takes him deep; barely even gagging. He threads his fingers into Shane’s hair, grounding himself, trying to focus on how good it feels instead of wondering why Hollander didn’t kiss him. 

“Fuck, da, like that.” He groans, knowing he isn’t going to last long. It’s been too long without Hollander’s mouth, an endless summer that Ilya couldn’t wait to be done with. 

It felt like he’d been trapped in Russia in his father’s house for years rather than two months. He had been losing his mind. 

And not a day went by when he didn’t think about the man on his knees in front of him. Every single fucking day, Ilya woke up thinking about Shane. Wondering what he was doing. Wishing he hadn’t been so cold and detached that last night in Vegas; thinking about an excuse he could use for texting him. 

This crush he has - this obsession - is annoying and frustrating and worrying because Ilya doesn’t have any space in his life for the enormity of his feelings for Shane Hollander. 

It’s too dangerous. He really needs to stop seeing him. And that had been his intention. He wasn’t going to text Shane before their first game of the season, and he certainly wasn’t going to suggest meeting up afterwards. 

He was going to try and let him go properly. For good. 

But then their game was two days away, and Ilya was like a moth to a flame. The temptation was too sweet. 

Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t do it - shouldn’t want it - he couldn’t fucking help it. 

The idea of touching Shane during the game - slamming him into boards, shaking his hand at the lineup - but not seeing him after was making him feel sick. All summer he’d been thinking about the other man’s mouth, his smell, the way his face contorted in pleasure when he was under Ilya. 

He couldn’t let the opportunity pass him by. 

Lily: hey, hope you had a good summer. Meet up after game?

Then he’d thrown his phone across the room like it was on fire and hadn’t looked at it for a few hours. 

He was a touch disappointed when Shane only replied with a thumbs up emoji - no similar sentiments about Ilya’s summer or even a greeting - but he tried not to overthink it. 

And now here they are, back at Shane’s apartment, and Ilya doesn’t regret it. It might be ruining his life, but he still doesn’t regret it. 

“I’m gonna come, wait -” He gasps, trying to pull Shane off of him. 

He attempts to pull Shane to his feet so they can finally kiss and maybe make it to the bedroom rather than the kitchen before he comes, but Shane doesn’t stop. 

In fact, he bobs his head on Ilya’s dick faster; determined. 

Ilya’s helpless to the pleasure, succumbing to it a moment later as he shoots into Shane’s mouth; long, aching pulses that feel absolutely fantastic. He tries not to thrust in too deep. But based on the way Shane’s encouraging him to fuck his mouth by pulling him forward by his ass, he doesn’t think he minds too much when Ilya sinks in deep at the end. 

“Christ, Hollander. You killed me again.” He chuckles, feeling overheated. His forehead and neck are sweaty. 

He looks down as Shane finally takes his mouth off his cock, and sees that Shane’s stroking himself fast as he stares up at Ilya. He looks wrecked and gorgeous as he moans, shoving himself into his hand like he’s fucking it. 

“Let me do it.” Ilya growls, a little bit offended that Shane didn’t already think of that. He should be standing up and kissing Ilya, guiding his hand to his leaking dick and begging in the way he does when he’s super close. 

Hollander shakes his head, once again defiant. “Close -” He whimpers, his hand speeding up as he scrunches his eyes closed tight. He’s shaking and looks so goddamn needy.  

Ilya’s chest hurts again, the pull of need powerful and aching. 

He drops to his own knees - after tucking himself away and pulling his pants and underwear back up to his waist - and reaches for Shane, one hand around the back of his neck, the other reaching down to cup his very tight balls. Hollander moans loud and long, his free hand gripping Ilya’s pec.

“You could not wait for me, hm? Had to do it yourself?” He coos, tugging the ends of Shane’s damp hair sharply which makes him throw his head back; exposing his neck and Adam’s apple. 

“Rozanov, I -” Shane gasps, but doesn’t finish the sentence as Ilya’s fingers move from his balls to his hole. He presses down just a little bit and feels his own dick twitch when Shane lets out a long moan and instantly starts to come. 

He comes all over Ilya’s shirt and arm, but it doesn’t matter at all because Ilya’s caught up in looking at him. His forehead is pinched tight, mouth open and panting; hand that was on Ilya’s chest now wandering up to his jaw. 

His thumb presses close to Ilya’s lips and then suddenly moves across his bottom one, sending strikes of lightning through Ilya’s nerves. He’s hard again, and starts to leak when Shane traces his upper lip shortly after; his orgasm finally receding. 

Slowly, Hollander opens his eyes - finding Ilya’s gaze - and then smiles at him, looking maybe a little embarrassed but also very satisfied. It makes Ilya smile too, seeing him so relaxed and happy. Shane gets like this after sex, almost glowing in a light of happiness that seems to take him over. 

Fuck, Ilya wants him so bad. 

He tugs the other man forward, lips practically tingling with the need to kiss and lick and devour Shane’s, but Hollander’s eyes suddenly go wide with panic and he flinches back. 

He flinches. Like the idea of kissing Ilya alarms him. 

Shane lets go of the grip he has on Ilya’s face, tucking his dick back into his shorts and then abruptly stands up. 

Ilya looks up at him for a long second before he stands up as well, watching as Shane leans against the kitchen counter, eyes on the floor. He’s put a ton of space between them. 

Ilya knows for sure now that he’s not imagining things. Shane’s deliberately not kissing him. 

“Kiss me.” 

His voice breaks a little bit, the words breathy and too soft. 

Shane crosses his arms in front of his chest, still not looking at Ilya. 

“No.” He says, the word firm. He actually sounds angry. 

He always lets Ilya kiss him. They always kiss each other. What the fuck is happening right now? 

“Why?” He asks simply, trying not to freak out. He thinks of what the most obvious answer could be. “I brushed my teeth before coming over.” 

Hollander shakes his head. “It’s not that.” 

Fuck. Ilya feels himself panicking a bit. 

“Then why?” He demands, taking a few steps closer. Predictably, Shane takes a few steps back. Ilya stops and doesn’t attempt to come closer again, feeling annoyed and confused. 

“I - I just don’t want to.” Shane says, shrugging. He glances at Ilya for a moment, but then looks away again. 

“You always want to.” 

“That’s not -” 

“Is true, don’t lie to me.” Ilya interrupts, taking a deep breath. “I want to kiss you.” 

Shane wets his lips and shakes his head again. “I don’t think we should.” 

Ilya feels like he’s about to faint; he's so distressed. He’s freaking the fuck out about the idea of not being able to kiss Shane. Which is weird because Ilya’s had plenty of hookups where he didn’t kiss them. The sex was still good so it didn’t really matter. 

But none of them were Shane. 

And Shane has always been different. 

“Hollander -” He croaks, honestly ready to beg, but Shane interrupts him. 

“I think that this is becoming more than just sex for me, and I -” Hollander gulps, looking like he’s also about to pass out. “I don’t think either of us want that. I was doing some research about it, and it seems like sometimes hooking up works better without kissing. It’s not as intimate. It keeps people less…involved emotionally.” 

What? 

Holy fuck. Did Shane just admit to having feelings for him? 

Ilya has too many questions he wants to ask, too many thoughts stampeding around in his skull that it’s hard to form a coherent sentence. “But we have always kissed, we -” 

“I know.” Shane snaps, face blushing crimson. “But like I said, I don’t want to do that anymore. We can still see each other, because I like what we do, but we have to keep that part out of it. Please.” 

Ilya breathes in and out. He tries to be rational. Shane’s requesting that something change in their arrangement. It should be a simple answer. Yes. Of course. If that’s a boundary he wants to set, then Ilya should obey it. 

But the feeling of loss is so overwhelming he can barely stomach it. 

He makes himself say, “Okay. That is…fine.” 

If this is what he has to do in order to still see Shane, then he’ll do it. It hurts and he hates it, but the idea of never being with Shane again makes him want to throw himself off a cliff. Only a few days ago he was determined to end this, but he knows he can’t. 

Until Hollander ends it, Ilya will continue seeing him. 

He’s not capable of walking away. 

“Okay. Um, thanks.” Shane nods, sounding uncomfortable and awkward. He shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at Ilya. 

Ilya feels like this is his cue to leave. They’ve both gotten off. They won’t be kissing. And they’re not exactly friends so it’s not like they casually hang out. 

There’s nothing else keeping him here. Shane has made it clear what he wants this to be. 

Nothing should be different about it anyways since it was always just sex. 

But the idea of leaving feels horrible to Ilya. This doesn’t feel satisfying. He’s not sated in any way. He’s parched, starving, desperate for Shane in the way he’s always been able to have him. 

He wants their soft kisses, the hesitant press of Shane’s tongue when he opens his mouth wide for Ilya’s, the vibration of his moans Ilya can feel on his lips when he’s inside him deep. 

But he doesn’t get that anymore. 

“I will go then.” He says, clearing his throat. 

Shane finally looks at him, his expression so fucking sad for a second before he forces his features into a more neutral stare. He nods. 

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” Ilya says, walking towards the door. He still has his shoes on so doesn’t need to linger for any reason, but he still does. He touches the doorknob and then turns back around, making his tone light and easy. “Good game, Hollander. Next time, we will beat you again.” 

That makes Shane chuckle. “You wish.” 

His smile fades quickly, but at least Ilya got to see it. 

He lets himself out a moment later, heart pounding in his ears. 

October 2014 - Boston

It happens by accident. 

Shane’s finally at his house. He’s never been here before and Ilya’s giddy with the idea that that he gets to have Hollander in his space - offer him drinks and fuck him in his own bed. 

Call him pathetic, or whatever, but he’s genuinely happy. 

So after he hands Hollander an ice cold ginger ale, and they sit in his living room making small talk and then make eyes at each other and then Shane’s straddling his lap leaning his face down close to Ilya’s mouth - can he really be blamed for catching Shane’s beautiful lips in a kiss? 

He forgot about their new arrangement. Pretty much as soon as Shane showed up, Ilya had been too fucking delighted to remember that Hollander’s mouth is officially off limits. 

Shane reels back away from him, sighing as a frown appears between his eyebrows. 

“Rozanov, we talked about this.” 

Ilya feels like he’s being scolded by his principal, young and small. He hates it. He wants to push back, demand that this entire thing is bullshit and that kissing isn’t going to change the fact that they both like each other. 

But he doesn’t. 

He also doesn’t call Shane out about the fact that he definitely kissed Ilya back for a second. 

“Sorry. I forgot.” He says, swallowing thickly. 

Shane looks at him for a long second, maybe expecting Ilya to say more, but then he nods and tucks his face into Ilya’s neck. His hands grip and tug Ilya’s curls as he also grinds his hips down, reminding Ilya that he’s still insanely turned on. 

Shane Hollander is in his lap. Of course he is. 

Ilya’s hands find his ass and tug him against his body tighter. The friction makes them both groan. 

“How do you want me, hm?” Ilya asks, really wishing he could hold Shane’s face between his hands and kiss the answer from his lips. He wants it so much it’s fucking killing him. 

“Want you inside me.” Hollander moans, his breath hot on Ilya’s neck. 

Ilya shivers at the thought. It’s been so long since they’ve done that. Since Vegas. Ilya wishes he still had the right to kiss Shane senseless before taking him apart with his fingers - something he definitely enjoyed the first time. 

And the second time, too, since they’ve only done that twice. 

But as he leads Shane to his bedroom - “I’m fucking you in a real bed this time, Hollander” - he realizes that they never kissed in Vegas. Ilya had been determined to keep some distance between them, to keep his own stupid feelings in check. 

Fuck. 

That means the last time he kissed Shane and Shane actually kissed him back for real, was before the Olympics. During the first time they fucked for real. 

He wishes he had known that the last time he would get to taste Shane’s lips was in that stairwell. He would have appreciated it more. 

As upset as he is that Shane’s decided they can no longer kiss, he suddenly understands. It’s supposed to help him feel less attached to Ilya, and Ilya had been trying to do the same thing back in the summer. 

He wants to tell Shane this, explain that it didn’t fucking work and depriving himself of Shane in the way he really wanted only made wanting him even harder to ignore. But he doesn’t want to assume Shane feels the same way as Ilya feels for him. He doesn’t know how Shane feels, only that what they have was becoming ‘more than sex.’ Whatever the hell that means. 

He doesn’t feel like he has the right to ask. 

He pushes Shane onto the mattress instead, trying to just appreciate that he still gets to see Shane blushed down to his navel, panting and eager for him. He lifts his hips so Ilya can strip him bare - they both already took their shirts off - and then he folds Shane’s pants neatly before putting them onto the floor. 

“On the floor?” Shane pouts, but doesn’t look too upset about it based on how hard he is.

Ilya grins at him as he takes his own pants off as well, kicking them away. “Is clean down there, promise.” 

Shane rolls his eyes but then reaches for Ilya, making a pleased noise when Ilya lies on top of him, their dicks lining up. Shane’s hands go to Ilya’s hair and he tugs him forward like he’s going to kiss him - please, please - but then he seems to remember himself and stops. 

“Sorry, I -” Shane gulps, eyes fixed on Ilya’s lips. “I didn’t realize how much we kiss.” 

Ilya nods, his chest aching again, but he keeps his tone teasing. “We both have, um, what is it called? When you love things in your mouth?” 

Shane laughs. “An oral fixation?” 

“Yes, that.” 

“I don’t have a -” 

“Oh, please. You do.” Ilya pokes him in the chest as he leans up, putting space between their faces. “But is okay. This means we keep our mouths busy in other ways?” 

Shane nods eagerly at that. 

“You want to sit on my face and suck me, or I sit on your face?” Ilya asks, loving how Shane’s cock twitches at his question. 

“I’ll - um, I’ll sit on your face.” He sounds so fucking adorable. 

“Okay. That way I can open you up for me, too.” 

**

It definitely helps to be able to kiss Shane in other ways. The soft skin of his taint, his hole, his cock. Ilya puts his lips everywhere he can reach once Shane is hovering over him. His hands are on Shane’s hips and ass, guiding him lower or pushing him up higher as needed. 

Shane is moaning above him, mouth full of Ilya’s cock which feels amazing. They’ve never done this before and he wonders why because it’s fantastic. At one point, Shane isn’t paying much attention to him because he’s caught up in the feel of Ilya licking and fingering his ass, so Ilya’s hand goes to the back of Shane’s neck and lightly pushes him back down; encouraging him to suck his dick again. 

Shane does, but not before he kisses it. Ilya feels him put sloppy, wet kisses on the tip of his cock, his talented tongue lapping up his precome. And the only thing Ilya can think is that he’s jealous of his dick because it gets to be kissed by Shane. 

So unfair. 

“M’ready. Please fuck me.” Hollander gasps after nearly twenty minutes, shakily moving himself up and off Ilya. He lies back down on his back, opening his legs wide as Ilya puts himself between them. 

The sight of him nearly undoes Ilya. His mouth is wet and used, his chest rising and falling quickly with his eagerness, and as Ilya leans down he realizes that the need to kiss him is kind of unbearable. 

He stops and tries to take a deep breath, forcing himself to look away from Shane’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” Shane asks, sounding concerned. His arms find Ilya’s biceps and he rubs soothing circles onto them. “We don’t have to -” 

“I want to.” Ilya cuts him off. “I want to, Hollander. But get on your stomach.” 

Shane doesn’t move for several seconds. Ilya looks at him again, and sees a frown on Shane’s face like he’s trying to figure out why Ilya would request that. But then his eyes go a bit wider and he glances down at Ilya’s mouth before he nods and turns over. 

Ilya likes this position because he gets a great view of Shane’s ass. But he hates that they’re forced to do it this way so neither of them is tempted to kiss the other. 

He gets a condom and lube, takes a bit of time to finger Shane again with his lubed up fingers. He's trying not to feel disappointed about the kissing thing because nothing about being with Shane like this is disappointing. 

But it's all he thinks about as he presses in deep, as he fucks Shane to orgasm - “Rozanov, yes like that, fuck I’m gonna come!” - and as he also climaxes and shudders through the pleasure. 

He wants to press kisses all over Shane's back and hair, wants to turn him on his back and messily make out as they come down from their highs. 

But he pulls out instead and stands up, tossing the condom in the garbage next to his bed. Shane turns onto his back, slightly to the right of the wet spot and looks at Ilya. 

He's so kissable it makes Ilya’s heart hurt.

“Was good. Missed that.” Ilya says, unable to handle the awkward silence. 

Slowly, Shane nods too. 

“Yeah, same.” The words sound genuine, but he looks disappointed. 

“You want first shower?” Ilya offers, wanting to be a good host. He motions to the ensuite bathroom. 

Shane nods, sitting up. “Okay.” 

Ilya puts his underwear back on as Shane walks past him, trying to settle his racing thoughts. The intense longing for closeness. 

Shane wants it this way, he thinks. He has to accept it. 

**

Half an hour later, Shane’s putting his shoes on near the door. Ilya wants him to stay. He wants to make them dinner and maybe go again, but he doesn’t suggest it. 

Shane’s phone dings, apparently letting him know his ride is here. He turns and smiles at Ilya. “See you at the game tomorrow. We’re gonna beat your asses.” 

Ilya makes himself smile back, pushing through the sadness that’s trying to crush him. He wishes he could put a soft kiss on Shane’s lips like he did that day in the stairwell, watch as Shane melts because of it. 

But instead he says, “We will see.” 

Shane hesitates for a long moment, staring at Ilya. His eyes and then his mouth. Then he shakes his head and opens the door, waving a little before he’s gone for real. 

Ilya kisses his fingers and then touches the door. “Bye, Shane.”

Chapter 2

November 2014 - Montreal 

Shane hasn’t answered his texts in a few days, and Ilya’s trying not to be upset about it. 

He’d asked about their game tonight and if he’d be seeing Shane afterwards. Hollander is usually pretty good about replying to him, and hasn't ever really left him on read before. But it’s been nearly four days and Ilya’s heard nothing back from him. 

He’s in his hotel room, sharing with Cliff again, and normally Ilya likes sharing a room with his friend. They get along well, tease each other, but respect each other’s space. Cliff also doesn’t snore, which Ilya appreciates. 

But Ilya wishes he was alone today. He’s moody. He keeps snapping at Cliff for dumb things, for stuff that isn’t his fault. The room just feels too small and cramped. There’s a weird, mildewy smell on the linen that he hates and his skin is crawling like an animal in a cage who’s desperate to be set loose. 

“Fuck’s sake, Marley, move your fucking suitcase.” Ilya huffs, kicking the small black suitcase out of his way as he comes out of the bathroom. 

He could have walked around it. But he’s being an asshole and can’t seem to stop himself. He’s pissed off. 

“Geeze Roz, calm the hell down would you? Save the aggression for the game.” Cliff frowns at him, picking up his suitcase and putting it on his own bed. 

Ilya shakes his head and grabs his smokes. “I’ll be outside.” 

He finds a private spot away from the entrance of the hotel and smokes through two cigarettes as he glares down at his phone. Part of him wants to text Shane again, but he also doesn’t want to seem pathetic. 

He’ll sound needy if he sends another text, so he doesn’t. He smokes two more cigarettes before he goes back inside, his lungs burning a little bit but he doesn’t care. 

Ilya wishes he could have some kind of reprieve from his stupid feelings. He’s so annoyed at himself. The desperation, the longing he feels for Shane Hollander is making him feel like he’s losing his mind. 

He feels like a dog begging for scraps on the street. Please notice me. Please acknowledge me. Please text me back. Please, please, I’m dying, give me something. Anything. 

“We should go out tonight after the game. Whether we win or lose.” Ilya says to Cliff as he comes back into their room. He throws himself down on the bed. 

Cliff raises an eyebrow at him. “You’re not seeing your Montreal girl?” 

Apparently not, he thinks. 

Ilya clenches his jaw. “Nope.” 

Cliff shrugs. “Okay, sounds good.” 

**

Montreal beats Boston 4-3. It was very close, mostly because Ilya and Shane were playing hard. They slammed each other into the boards more than once, and nearly got into a fight when Ilya took down Pike and Hollander came skating to his defense. 

But Ilya hadn’t technically done anything wrong, nothing that would get him sent to the penalty box. Shane had been on him immediately though, defending Pike like he was some helpless newbie. 

“That was dirty, Rozanov!” 

“Fuck off, no it wasn’t!” 

It was irritating as hell. 

They glare at each other as they shake hands, too. Which Ilya hates. Normally, games with Montreal make him feel excited, happy - no matter who wins. Being in the same room as Shane again usually makes him giddy, knowing they’ll see each other afterwards. The anticipation is always so sweet. 

But all it’s doing this time is making him see red. 

When Ilya gets back from the showers, he changes into a nicer outfit he brought with him so he and Cliff can head straight to the bar. He’s ready for a night of drinking and forgetting he’s in the same city as the one person he always craves but can’t have. 

Maybe he’ll even find someone to hook up with, too. Someone who wants to kiss him. 

Just as he nods to Cliff to let him know he’s ready, he checks his phone and sees a message from Jane. He’s shocked, fingers trembling as he clicks to open it. He didn’t expect to get any kind of answer. 

Jane: you still want to meet? 

Ilya wishes he had the will power to say no. He wishes he could ignore Shane like he did before the summer. 

Instead, he replies instantly like the loser he is. 

Lily: yes

“Marley, we will go out some other time.” He shouts to his friend as he grabs his coat. Cliff rolls his eyes and flips him off. 

“Tell Montreal Jane I said hi!” 

**

Ilya knocks on Shane’s apartment door forty-five minutes later, feeling weirdly nervous. Sure, the game was intense and Ilya doesn’t love fighting with Shane on the ice, but it’s all part of their jobs. 

He tries to shake it off. Shane wants to see him. He finally texted him back. Ilya’s still a little annoyed that he was left on read for a few days, but he ignored Shane for six whole months. He can get over it. He’s trying to be over it. 

The door swings open and Shane says, “Hey.” He smiles a little, and moves aside so Ilya can come in. 

Ilya didn’t know what to expect. If they would immediately get to it like the last time he was here, or if it would be more of a build up. 

“Want a drink? I have Coke.” Shane offers and Ilya nods. 

“Sure, thank you.” 

They sit at the island of Shane’s kitchen, sipping their drinks and exchanging quick glances at each other. Ilya doesn’t know what to say. Everything feels awkward between them now when they’re not fucking. He wants to tease Shane like he always does, rile him up, make him tell Ilya to fuck off in that fond way he does. 

But it doesn’t feel like things are normal between them, and maybe that means he doesn’t have the right to tease anymore. 

Ilya puts his hand on Shane’s thigh after a while, hoping Shane gets the hint. Hollander seems relieved because he puts down his can of Canada Dry and turns his whole body to face Ilya. He slots his legs in between Ilya’s and smiles at him. 

“Hi.” Shane says. 

Ilya huffs, grinning. “Hi yourself.” 

“You were an ass today.” 

“Was not. You were.” 

“No, you went after Hayden.” 

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Part of the game, Hollander. Pike can handle himself. He does not need watch dog.” 

Shane shoves his chest, chuckling. “Fuck off.” 

The words make Ilya finally relax. They’re back in familiar territory again. 

He reaches for Shane as he stands up, dragging him towards the stairs by his hand. “I am not fucking you in the kitchen this time. We need soft surfaces.” He explains, loving how Shane laughs openly. 

“Is that so?” 

“Da.” 

Ilya attempts to let Shane’s hand go as they begin to walk upstairs, not wanting to seem too intimate. But Shane surprises him by hanging on and then threading their fingers together. Shane’s skin is soft and warm, his hand big like Ilya’s but they fit together so seamlessly. 

It makes Ilya’s breath catch. 

At the landing, Ilya pauses. He tries to look normal about the fact that they’re holding hands like a couple out for a stroll on date night, but he doesn’t know if he manages it. They stare at each other for a long moment until Shane glances down at their hands, closes his eyes for a second and then lets go. 

“You look nice tonight.” Hollander says, eyes lingering on Ilya’s chest. 

“Thank you.” 

Shane backs up a little until his back hits the wall. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, continuing to assess Ilya’s chest and arms. “Were you planning to go out? Is that why you’re all dressed up, or is it for me?” 

Ilya’s mouth goes a little dry. He’s wearing a black button up. Nothing extravagant or flashy. It fits him nicely though, shows off his defined chest and biceps. It’s a silk material as well, better for clubs and dancing so he doesn’t overheat. The top three buttons are open, exposing a bit of chest hair and his cross. 

“You had not texted me back, so I was planning to go out with Marley. But then I saw your message.” Ilya explains honestly, wondering why Shane’s eyes went dark when he said Cliff’s nickname. 

“Right.” Shane says, the word clipped. 

“I wear stuff like this to clubs. Not as hot.” Ilya continues, unsure as to why Shane’s asking him this. 

“You like clubs?” 

“Da. Is fun to dance and get drunk.” Ilya shrugs. 

“If you say so.” 

“You have never been to a club?” 

Shane shrugs. “Kind of, but I never dance. I don’t find it all that fun.” 

“Maybe you have not been to the right clubs.” Ilya grins, slowly walking over to where Shane’s standing. He looks at Shane as well, since Hollander is still shamelessly checking him out. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, arms bulging where he’s still crossing them against his chest. 

Shane doesn’t really dress up unless it’s for events, Ilya’s noticed. He’s not big into fashion or keeping up with trends. He wears what he finds comfortable, Ilya assumes. But it’s fine because he always looks good, even in athletic wear or a simple t-shirt. 

Ilya puts a hand against the wall beside Shane’s head once he’s close enough, brushing their chests together when Shane moves his arms away. 

“What are the ‘right’ clubs?” Shane asks, visibly swallowing as Ilya looks at his mouth. God, he misses those lips. 

“The ones that are fun. Play music you like, have people you want to dance with or talk to. Maybe you have only been to boring Canadian clubs. Of course you do not like.” 

Shane rolls his eyes but smiles fondly. “Sure.” 

Ilya doesn’t want to talk about clubs anymore. He moves his other hand down to Shane’s right pec and cups it, squeezing a little. He’s always loved Hollander’s pecs and nipples. His hands tend to gravitate here when they’re together. 

Shane likes it, too. He arches into the touch, his own hands finding Ilya’s hips. 

Maybe this is how they’ll start things from now on. Not with a kiss, but by feeling each other up. Ilya can do that. And maybe - eventually - he won’t constantly think about kissing Shane. 

“I was thinking.” Shane says, putting his hands under Ilya’s shirt so he can feel soft skin. 

“Do not hurt yourself.” Ilya chuckles. 

“Asshole.” 

Shane suddenly reaches up and grabs a handful of Ilya’s curls, tugging him in close; guiding him to his own neck. Ilya rests his face against Shane’s pulse point, wanting to place kisses all along the skin - and fuck he’s missed his gorgeous neck. 

But he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. 

“You wanna hear my idea or not?” Shane asks him sharply, nails digging in meanly to the softness of his hip with his other hand. 

Yes, he does. Very much. But he’s distracted. 

“Can I kiss your neck? Please.” Ilya slurs the words, pants them hot and wet into Shane’s skin. He feels the vibrations of Hollander’s moan against his lips, but doesn’t press them in further in a real kiss the way he wants to. 

“Fuck. I -” Shane whines, tugging Ilya’s hair tight. It actually kind of hurts, the pain in his scalp making him chub up in his pants. 

Shane’s never been rough like this with him before. 

Ilya fucking loves it. 

“Please?” He asks again, heart pounding against his ribcage. 

“That was my idea, Rozanov.” Shane gasps, smushing Ilya’s face against him deeper. “New plan. Kiss me anywhere you want except my mouth. Okay?”  

Oh, fuck. 

Shane doesn’t know what kind of animal he just unleashed. 

“Yes, baby. Whatever you want. Anything, fuck.” Ilya mutters against the warm skin under his lips before placing wet, desperate kisses along Shane’s neck. 

He licks and sucks and bites all the way up until he’s at Shane’s ear. He places a gentle kiss on it before he starts to head down the curve of his jaw. He puts his hand that’s on Shane’s pec down to his dick and rubs, cupping him through the denim. 

Hollander throws his head back and groans; Ilya follows with his lips close to his chin. The sound Shane makes is so loud and raw that it makes Ilya feel dizzy. He pants and tugs Ilya even closer, both of them sweat slick from the proximity and how hard they’re both breathing. 

Fuck, they’re both practically hyperventilating. 

Ilya should pull away and be a little more graceful about this. He wants to do more to Shane than just grope him and suck on his neck while they both shake against each other in the hallway. But it feels so fucking good. 

Ilya makes his way to Shane’s chin, places an eager, hard kiss there that makes Hollander inhale sharply and knock his head back into the wall with a loud thud. It’s hard enough that Ilya does pull back, reaching up to cup the back of Shane’s head. 

“That sounded painful.” He says, looking into Hollander’s hazy gaze. He’s looking up at Ilya like he doesn’t know where he is or who he is or anything at all. 

“What? No, I -” Shane whispers, the hold on Ilya’s hair finally loosening as he brings that same hand to Ilya’s face. “M’good. Please, more. I want more.” 

The begging makes Ilya throb. He dives back in, this time on the other side of Shane’s neck - giving it the same treatment. Kiss, bite, suck, lick. Over and over as Shane squirms against him, thrusts his hard cock into Ilya’s palm. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Rozanov, please.” 

Ilya can barely breathe, can barely think through the intensity of arousal currently rushing through him, but he nods eagerly. He tugs Shane forward and steers them to the bedroom, fighting the urge to whine like a puppy at the loss of his mouth on Hollander’s skin. 

But he plans to get right back to that as soon as they’re naked. 

Shane strips his clothes off fast, not even bothering to fold them. He gets onto his back in the middle of the bed, props himself up on his elbows as he watches Ilya finishing taking off his socks. 

Shane is flushed red everywhere, his cock practically purple. It bobs on his stomach as Ilya crawls on top of him. He opens his legs wide and clings to Ilya as soon as he lets some of his weight drop onto him. 

Ilya’s eyes go back to Shane’s neck which is also red and blushed from Ilya’s mouth. No hickeys, no marks that will last, but right now Ilya loves seeing the evidence of where his mouth has been. 

“Come here.” Shane whimpers, pulling Ilya back down towards him. 

He thinks Shane wants him to keep kissing his neck, and that had been Ilya’s plan. But instead, Shane starts kissing his neck, his eager mouth putting feather light kisses along Ilya’s jaw and throat. 

Fuck, Ilya missed this so much. Being close, tasting each other’s skin. He groans and thrusts his hips down, remembering Shane’s earlier request to fuck him. He’ll get to that in a second. For now, he appreciates Shane’s mouth and the way his hand finds its way back into Ilya’s hair. 

He tugs again, not as hard, and Ilya follows the movement; tilting his head to the side. Shane licks a strip from his throat to his ear, whispering something Ilya doesn’t quite catch. 

“Hm?” 

Shane shakes his head. “Nothing.” He places a kiss on Ilya's temple, so tender it makes him tremble. 

Ilya feels a little bit lost as they stare at each other, untethered; his emotions all over the place. Part of him wants to just lean down and kiss Shane properly. Everything they’ve done in the last ten minutes could be considered ‘intimate.’ Shane just kissed him on the temple for fuck’s sake. 

But he doesn’t want to push his luck. 

He reaches down between them instead, finding Shane’s entrance. His eyes go wide when he feels that it’s already wet. “You were busy before I got here, hm?” 

Shane blushes, biting his lip. “Maybe.” 

Ilya sinks his finger in slowly, pleased with how easy the slide is; Shane’s body a hot vice around him. “Your famous dildo helped you prepare for me?” 

Shane laughs before he moans as Ilya thrusts in two fingers, deeper this time because he can tell Hollander can take it. He watches Shane’s face contort in pleasure as he grips Ilya’s arms, mouth open again. 

If he was allowed, Ilya would shove his tongue into Shane’s mouth and lick him like a popsicle. The desire is so strong he nearly does it anyway. 

“Condoms still in the same spot?”

“Yeah.” Shane nods, reaching for them. But Ilya sits up and opens the drawer, fingers still inside the other man. He’s good at multitasking. He also loves the way Shane moves his hips up and down onto his fingers, fucking himself a little. 

“Impatient.” Ilya tuts, tossing a condom onto Shane’s stomach. “Put it on me.” 

Shane does, clumsily and awkwardly but Ilya’s hopelessly endeared by it. Once he’s ready, he taps Shane’s leg, motioning for him to turn onto his stomach like last time. But Hollander shakes his head. 

“Like this? Please?” 

Ilya swallows, hesitating. “I don’t know if -” 

I can stop myself from kissing you. 

I can look into your eyes while I’m inside you and not remember how in love with you I am. 

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.” He says instead, clearing his throat. 

Shane’s face falls, looking upset, and that’s the last thing Ilya wants. He leans down and lightly rubs his cheek against Shane’s. “I don’t want to accidentally kiss you.” He admits, because he might as well be honest. 

Shane sighs. “You can kiss me. My neck. My face. Is that enough?” 

No, Ilya immediately thinks. It’s not even close to enough. 

“Yeah.” He lies, nipping at Shane’s neck before he lines himself up. 

Shane spreads his legs wider as Ilya enters him, back arching off the bed as he cries out. The sound makes Ilya panic a little, thinking he went too fast, so he strokes a hand through Shane’s hair, pausing. “I hurt you?” 

“No, fuck.” Shane chokes, shaking his head. “Feels so good.” He pulls Ilya into him deeper by the grip he has on his ass, moaning. “Want it hard.” 

Fuck. 

A wave of arousal washes over Ilya so strongly he nearly comes. He puts a hand beside Shane’s head on the pillow, the other reaching under him to hold across his back. He drives in as deep as he can as he lifts Shane slightly off the bed, their bodies slamming together. 

They groan in unison, Shane kissing Ilya’s throat. He sucks on the skin and Ilya wonders if he’ll leave a hickey there. 

Christ, he hopes so. 

“Fuck, Hollander.” He gasps, loving how the other man is clinging to him; lips kissing everywhere they can reach Ilya besides his mouth. He thrusts his hips hard and deep, keeping the rhythm that Shane seems to like. 

Their faces are close, panting into each other’s mouths as they fuck, and Ilya sees Shane looking at his lips more than once. It’s like his gaze gets stuck there. Ilya’s not doing any better, practically drooling at the thought of a single, real kiss. 

“M’already close. Shit.” Hollander moans after a few minutes, and Ilya looks down at his cock which is drooling onto both their abs. 

Ilya’s close too, he realizes. He slows down a little, not wanting this to be over yet. He pets Shane’s sweaty bangs off his forehead, kissing the side of his face. Shane whines, hands coming up to Ilya’s back. 

“Don’t stop.” He whispers. “Want you to make me come.” 

Ilya whines this time, the words absolutely wrecking him. “Yeah? Just with my cock?” He gasps, picking up the pace again because he can never say no to Shane. 

Shane crosses his ankles on Ilya’s back, body shaking with need. “Yes. Oh, God. Please.” 

Ilya can’t get over the amount of begging they’ve both done tonight. It’s insane. 

He gives into the pleasure, into the heat of Shane’s body, thrusting hard and fast again. His face is pressed into Shane’s neck, the same spot Hollander guided him to earlier. He kisses the skin, licking it, feeling himself getting so close again. 

Shane’s tightening around him, a sign he’s close too. “Oh fuck, I’m -” 

“Yes, come for me.” Ilya says, trying to kiss Shane’s neck again. 

But suddenly he’s being pulled, yanked actually, away from Shane’s neck by the angry grip of Shane’s hand in his sweaty hair. 

And then Shane’s saying, “Kiss me, kiss me Ilya - fuck! Mm -” 

He pulls Ilya down until their mouths come together, opening for each other immediately. Ilya’s helpless to do anything else but kiss Shane back and come hard inside of him when Shane’s tongue touches his own. 

His whole body tenses up, his muscles locking as he spills inside the condom, barely able to enjoy the kiss because of how intense his orgasm is. He’s making tons of sounds he’s never made before, desperate and aching and broken. He feels Shane come against him a moment later, untouched, crying out as well. 

Ilya feels like he blacks out, his vision going a little spotty as he tries to keep himself upright. 

He barely gets to take in a breath before he feels Shane’s mouth on his again, kissing him properly this time. He wraps his hand around the back of Ilya’s neck, tilting his head to the side so their noses don’t bump. Hollander ravishes his mouth, still breathing hard after his orgasm. 

All Ilya’s wanted for the last few months is this. He fantasized about it, longed for it every day. It felt like torture being with Hollander but not being able to kiss him the last few times. 

But for some reason, as he’s kissing Shane back as best he can, his chest is so tight it’s bordering on painful. 

He can’t breathe. 

He keeps hearing Shane saying his first name over and over again like an endless loop inside his skull. Obviously Shane knows his first name, but they’ve never used them before. And it feels - 

It feels like so much. 

Hollander is still clinging to him, whimpering as he tugs Ilya against him tighter like he never wants to let go. Like he can’t get Ilya close enough despite the fact that he’s still inside the other man. 

Fuck. It's too much. 

Sex was never supposed to be…this. 

“Stop. Fuck, stop.” He gasps, forcing himself away from Shane’s embrace. 

He’s still shaky, limbs feeling like jelly, but he manages to get off the bed after he takes a moment to pull out without hurting Shane. He takes in several deep breaths, hating the way Shane is looking at him. His eyes are wide with anxiety as he sits up. 

“I’m sorry, I -” 

“I can’t do this. I gotta - fuck.” Ilya stutters, his chest still so fucking tight. He rubs at the skin on his chest as he grabs his underwear. 

Shane is standing now too, looking disheveled and well fucked but also so fucking sad. Ilya needs to reassure him, tell him he didn’t do anything wrong. But that means he has to explain why it’s not his fault, and he doesn’t know if he can. 

I’m falling for you and I’m fucking terrified. You deserve so much better. I can’t be in love with another man, my father would kill me. This was only supposed to be fun and now I’ve wrecked it. 

Ilya dresses quickly as Shane continues to stand by the bed, hands out like he wants to touch Ilya but he doesn’t come any closer. 

“I gotta go, I forgot about something I have to do.” He says, attempting to somehow explain why he’s rushing out. But he knows it doesn’t work. 

“What? Wait, did I do something? I didn’t mean to -” Shane says, his voice cracking which absolutely shatters Ilya’s heart. He looks at Hollander again and sees that his eyes are full of tears. 

God, why does Ilya keep hurting him? 

“No, no, I promise. I just - I have to go.” He says, swallowing back nausea as their gazes find each other again. 

Shane looks at him for a long moment before he wipes his eyes. “Okay, yeah. Um, bye then?” 

Ilya nods, unable to say anything else. He turns on his heel and practically runs out of the bedroom. 

**

2 days later 

Jane: hey

Lily: hey

Jane: I wanted to tell you that I can’t see you anymore

Lily: what? 

Jane: I think it’s better if we stop 

Lily: you want that? really? 

Jane: it’s for the best

Lily: is this about the other night?

Jane: yes and no. it’s a lot of things 

Lily: I am sorry for leaving

Jane: it’s okay, but i still think we shouldn’t meet up again 

Lily: if that’s what you want

Jane: okay, good luck for the rest of the season 

Lily: you too

**

“Ilya? It’s four in the morning. Are you alright?” Svetlana asks him, her voice thick with sleep. 

Ilya’s fingers are tight on the phone, the room spiralling around him. He’s been drinking alone at his house for hours, thoughts completely all over the place. He’s so fucking sad and lonely. 

“Not really.” He admits, barely recognizing his own voice. 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Yes. In my heart.” 

“Oh, honey.” She sighs, and he hears shuffling in the background. “I’ll be over in twenty minutes, okay?” 

He nods, letting the tears that have finally filled his eyes fall down his cheeks. “Thanks, Sveta.” 

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

-Ilya and Svetlana speak to each other in Russian during their convo because that's what I assume they would do :)
-This chapter kind of got away from me in terms of word count, but I'm happy with it.
-Hope you enjoy :)

Ilya’s lying in bed when he hears Svetlana unlock his front door. He waits for her to find him, and when she does she crawls under the covers with him. She pulls him close. 

“Hey.” She says, wiping his wet face. He wraps his arms around her. 

“Hi.” 

“Do you need some water?” 

Probably, he thinks. “No.” 

“Hm.” She tuts, sounding disapproving but she doesn’t push it again. “Do you want to talk?” 

“No.” 

“Okay.” 

They lie like that for a long time, just holding each other. The sound of her breathing and the familiar scent of her face lotion calms him. He knows he should talk, tell her everything and let her give him some advice, but right now that feels like too much. 

“I’m going to get you an Advil. Then we will sleep, okay?” She whispers. Ilya doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he was already close to being asleep. 

“Yeah.” He agrees, too tired and sad to argue. 

**

The sunlight of early morning is streaming in through Ilya’s windows. He cringes as he opens his eyes. His head is pounding and he has a bad taste in his mouth. Svetlana isn’t in bed with him, he realizes, and then he smells cooking from the kitchen. 

The smell makes him a little nauseous. 

He brushes his teeth, gets dressed and walks towards the kitchen. He knows Svetlana is going to be full of questions and he tries to brace himself. He wants to be honest with her. Her insight would be nice because he’s talked himself into circles about Shane and everything that happened between them. 

But he’s also terrified of what she’ll think of him. 

“Good morning.” She says, grinning at him as she flips pancakes. She’s wearing sweatpants and one of his t-shirts, face bare of makeup. “These are almost ready.” 

He sits at the island and nods. “Thanks.” 

He watches her grab plates and cutlery, pour them both coffee and sing something to herself. She’s so beautiful. One of Ilya’s favorite people. He values her friendship so much and appreciates that she knows him so well. 

He wishes he could be in love with her - that they could be in love with each other - because it would make everything so much easier. 

His father would approve. His country would approve. The world in general would approve because they’re both good looking people and everyone seems to love a hot couple when it’s a man and woman. 

Svetlana sits next to him and hands over a plate of food. She raises her eyebrows, clearly waiting for him to explain why he called her at four in the morning. 

He groans. “Can’t I eat my pancakes first?” He’s not hungry at all, but he’s stalling for a time. Even one more minute where nobody else knows about how gone he is for Shane Hollander. 

She smiles sweetly at him. “Eat as you talk. Tell me what the fuck happened, Ilyushka.” 

He sighs, shoving a bite into his mouth. “Well -” 

**

A little while later, after he’s done explaining, Svetlana is very quiet. She finishes eating her food, sips her coffee and when Ilya dares to look her in the eye he nearly backs away for fear of his life. 

Or more likely, his balls. 

All of a sudden she practically yells, “You have been hooking up with Shane Hollander for years?” 

“Um, yes?” 

“Ilya!” 

“I know.” 

“Years?!” 

“I know!” 

“And you ignored him for six months after Sochi?” 

He groans. “Sveta -” 

“And you were an ass to him in Vegas even though he agreed to meet up with you after you did not answer his sweet texts checking in on you?” 

“For fuck’s sake. You are -” 

She hits him upside the head. Hard. It really fucking hurts. He’s about to complain and argue that he’d asked her to come over to make him feel better and not worse, but she speaks first.  

“Ilya, I love you, but you are seriously a fucking idiot.” 

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “You made my headache worse.” 

“Too bad.” She snaps, practically slamming her coffee mug down on. “Ugh, men.” 

He nods, agreeing with her whole-heartedly. 

Another few moments of silence go by, Ilya wondering if she’s going to hit him again. But he’s surprised when she runs her fingers through his unruly hair instead. He turns his face to look at her again, and she smiles sadly at him. 

“You love him, don’t you?” 

He looks away. He doesn’t want to cry again. “I can’t love him, Sveta.” 

“But you do.” She says simply. 

He might as well admit it. “I do. But he probably hates me now.” 

“I highly doubt it.” 

He frowns. “What? You just made a list of all the ways I’ve hurt him. He definitely hates me.” 

“No. You sweet, oblivious idiot.” She rolls her eyes. “He loves you, too. And probably has for a while.” 

Ilya has no fucking idea what she means. He feels like she’s speaking gibberish to him. It makes no sense. Why would Shane love him? 

“No way.” He shakes his head. 

“Yes way.” 

He frowns at her. She frowns back. It turns into a bit of a staring contest before he finally looks away and crosses his arms on the counter. “How could he love me? Why would he -” 

“Him telling you that your arrangement was becoming more than sex was him saying to you that he has feelings for you. He cares about you - thinks about you in more than just the context of sex and pleasure. Feelings.” She says, hands making wild gestures. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he loves me.” 

“Maybe not, but I think he does. He could have called it off between you. Especially after you didn’t speak to him for months. He could have told you to fuck off. But he didn’t. Because feelings.” 

Ilya puts his head on the counter this time, groaning. “Sveta -” 

“You told me that you both like kissing. It’s been a big part of being together. He took that away from both of you because he was fighting how intensely he likes you. I’m sure that was difficult for him. It would have been easier to walk away, to not see you anymore. But he stayed.” 

“He is a masochist, clearly. That is the reason.” 

She scoffs. “I don’t think so. He just couldn’t let go of you entirely. Which makes me think he loves you, too. But you won’t know unless you talk to him.” 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me! He said he doesn’t want to see me!” 

“Yes, I know.” She says calmly, rubbing his back. “But you can ask him again. Suggest a time or place to meet, even if it’s a while from now.”

Ilya tries to process everything she’s said. The idea that Shane likes him - potentially loves him too - still feels impossible. He wants to fight it, insist that it can’t be true because Ilya has been such a fucking asshole to him. How could someone as sweet as Shane ever love him? 

But he’s also thinking about their last time together - how intensely Shane clung to him, saying his first name, kissing him again after months without it; seemingly because he couldn’t stop himself. He’d wanted to kiss Ilya badly. 

And Svetlana has a point. Even though Shane decided he didn’t want them to kiss anymore, it must have been hard for him. Just like it was hard for Ilya to be cold and distant in Vegas back in the summer. It had hurt him to do it even though he thought it was for the best. All in the hopes of containing his feelings, pushing them as far away as possible. 

But of course, it didn’t work. 

Could Shane really feel similarly for him? He’s thought about it being a possibility, but it never felt actually real. Until now. Svetlana is making him feel like it could definitely be real. 

“Fuck. Okay. Maybe he likes me, too. But, we - I can’t date a man, Sveta. My father would -” 

“Is your father here right now?” She interrupts him. 

“No, but -” 

“No, he’s not. Does your father ever have to know about Shane in any sense besides that he is your rival in hockey?” 

He stands up this time, grabbing their plates and bringing them to the sink. “You’re making it seem so fucking simple, and that’s not fair. You know he could find out somehow. One picture of us together goes viral and boom. My life is over. Shane’s life is over. I can’t go back to Russia ever again.” 

“Ilya, you are catastrophizing it.” 

“No, I’m not!” He shouts, not wanting to yell at his friend but he’s so overwhelmed and angry. Not at her, but at the world. “You think I don’t want to be with him? I do! Every fucking day I wake up and wish I could be with him. That we could make a life together. Raise kids together someday! I want it so fucking badly, Svetlana but I don’t want to put him at risk. I’m not worth him losing his career.” 

He realizes that he’s shaking. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and his chest is burning. He feels like he can’t breathe again. 

“Ilya, you need to breathe.” Svetlana says, coming over to him. She reaches for him, but he backs away. 

“I can’t ask him to risk everything for me. I won’t let him do it. He deserves so much better.” He says, almost choking now. He rubs at his chest, wishing he could take in a deep breath. “You don’t know how he is, how much he cares about people. If he actually loves me then he - I can’t ask him to -” 

“Ilya, hey, it’s okay.” She says softly, and this time when she pulls him into a hug he lets her. He sobs against her shoulder for a long time. 

She holds him, whispers for him to take deep breaths and eventually he’s able to. His breathing slows, the pain in his chest eases and his tears stop. He’s a little embarrassed about crying so much, making this such a big deal. 

But it feels like a big deal. He’s never felt this way about another person before. Shane telling him it was over between them made him realize how much he cares; how much he doesn’t want to say goodbye to him forever. 

“Ilya, you don’t know how he feels.” She says softly, handing him some tissues. “You’re assuming everything, making decisions for him. I think you both need to stop being men for a second and have a real, honest conversation. Tell him how you feel.” 

He cringes, imagining talking to Shane the way he just did to Svetlana. Doing it in English would be so much harder. At least with her he can speak a language he’s comfortable with. 

“I don’t know.” He sighs. “I feel like he won’t want to see me.” 

“All you can do is ask.” 

Anxiety creeps into his chest again as he thinks about how it would actually work if they were to try and be together. “It still feels so fucking risky, Sveta. I know my father is in Russia and doesn’t have to know, but if anything were to leak to social media we’d be so screwed.” 

She nods. “Okay, I understand it’s a concern. I’m not trying to minimize the seriousness of that, but it’s also just details. You and him can figure it out together, take precautions or whatever. I’m certain of that. This is more about you two being honest with each other.” 

They make their way into the living room and sit close on the couch. Ilya needs a break from talking so they end up watching a movie. He falls asleep cuddled up close to his friend and only wakes up when she touches her cool fingers to his cheek. 

“I’m sorry, babe, but I have to go.” She says. He nods and sits up. 

“Okay. Thank you for coming.” 

She leans in and kisses him on the cheek. He notices that she’s dressed in her own clothes again, holding her bag. He didn’t hear her get up. 

“You will text Shane, yes?” Her expression is serious.

Fuck. He doesn’t know. He’s a little worried of Shane either refusing to see him, or if he agrees and they meet up, laughing in Ilya’s face if he tells him how he feels. That might be worse than continuing to not see each other. 

“Ilya.” 

“I don’t know, okay? I haven’t decided.” 

She sighs and shakes her head. “I know I can’t make you do anything, Ilya, but I have never seen you like this before. I didn’t even know you were capable of being in love with someone, or caring about someone the way you do for him. I know there’s a lot to figure out, but don’t fuck it up even more by letting him go.” 

He rubs a hand over his face, craving a cigarette. “I should let him go. He can find someone else. Someone better.” 

She smacks his arm. “Don’t talk like that. You are not your father.” 

He swallows thickly, unable to meet her eyes. Of course she knows that he was thinking that. It’s been a fear of his since he was small. Being an angry man like his dad, making everyone around him miserable, only caring about his own pain and nobody else’s. 

It’s his worst nightmare. Being a black hole of anger and darkness for Shane would be even more awful. 

“You never give yourself credit, Ilyushka. You are a good man. A good person. If you let yourself be with him, I know you would do everything you could to be a good boyfriend.”

“Stop. Please.” He begs, letting out a long breath. He leans in and kisses her cheek. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Okay. Bye. I love you.” She says, heels clicking as she walks towards the door. 

“I love you, too. Thank you.” 

“Anytime, Ilya.” 

**

December 2014 

Lily: merry christmas jane 

Jane: merry christmas 

**

Lily: happy new year

Jane: happy new year

**

January 2015 - Boston 

Lily: good luck tonight

Jane: you too

Lily: I don’t need luck, I will beat you 😈

Jane: not a chance 

**

Ilya catches Shane watching him more than once during the game. Their eyes meet a few times and Ilya doesn’t know how to read the other man. Sometimes he seems indifferent, like it doesn’t matter at all to Hollander that they’re in the same room together again after weeks apart. 

But other times, Shane looks sad. He looks like he’s holding back tears. He doesn’t smile or laugh when Ilya slams him into the boards. He just shoves Ilya off and skates away. 

Boston is winning 2-1 in the final period. It usually feels good to be winning while in his home city, but Ilya doesn’t pay attention to the loud cheers. His mind is entirely focused on Shane and whether or not he should message him after. 

He hasn’t asked him to meet again. He’s wanted to. He’s drafted about a hundred different texts but he never sends them. Svetlana has told him off for it more times than he can count. 

But every time he tries to send something like, hey can we meet up again, I wanted to talk about something important, he can never do it. He’s terrified of rejection, that Shane will tell him no and that will be the end of it. Forever. 

So he sent easier things. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Chirps about their game. Things he might get a reply to that wasn’t ‘fuck off.’ He didn’t know if Shane would reply at all, but he did and it felt amazing to talk to him again. Even if it was only through texts. 

Maybe that’s all he can hope for. Shane made it clear he doesn’t want to see him again. 

Boston wins 3-2 in the end and Ilya’s sweating buckets by the time he gets off the ice. Hollander had done his best to make a comeback for Montreal, tying them and almost getting a third goal first. But in the end, Ilya had stolen the puck and shot it in just before the buzzer. 

Ilya hadn’t met Shane’s eyes when they shook hands. Call him a coward, but he just couldn’t do it. He tried not to register their hands touching as any different than all the other guys on Shane’s team, but of course it was. His stomach had dropped like he was on a rollercoaster, and then it had flipped upside down when Shane had said, “Good game.” 

He hadn’t replied back. 

**

Ilya refuses to go out with his team despite their win. He’s not in the mood. He showers quickly and leaves Cliff to take care of the players who are going out, reminding him to make sure nobody does anything illegal or newsworthy. Usually Ilya does that. 

He makes himself a large drink when he gets home, looking at his phone as he sits on his couch. He looks at Shane’s conversation because he’s pathetic and wishes he could just ask him to come over. He wishes he felt like he deserved to take up Shane’s time. 

He doesn’t text him. Svetlana will yell at him again, and she’ll be right, but he can’t make himself. 

A little over an hour after Ilya gets home, his doorbell rings. He frowns as he gets up, wondering if it’s Svetlana. It could maybe also be one of his teammates. He groans, not wanting to be bothered. 

Can’t he just sulk in peace? 

As he opens the door, he nearly drops his drink as he realizes Shane is standing on his front porch. He’s wearing a dark green hoodie and cream coloured joggers under his coat, hair covered by a black hat. He’s breathing quickly as their eyes meet. 

“Um -” Ilya begins, but then Shane’s pushing his way in. 

“I’m sorry to just show up but I gotta - can we talk? Fuck, wait. Are you alone?” Shane asks, looking Ilya up and down as if that will tell him whether or not Ilya has someone over. 

“Yes, I’m alone.” Ilya says, closing the door and putting his drink down on the table near it. His heart is beating so hard he feels a little bit light-headed. 

He hadn’t been expecting this at all. 

“Okay. Good. I -” Shane takes a deep breath, fiddling with his hands as they stand in the foyer. “I gotta say some stuff and then I’ll leave.” 

Ilya feels so caught off guard. He doesn’t know how to behave or what to say. He wants to hug Shane, hold him close, kiss him everywhere. Beg for forgiveness. Tell him how fucking adorable he looks in that hat. He wants to cry and scream. He wants everything all at once. 

He lets Shane talk instead. 

“I really, really don’t want to be too much. Or weird. Or freak you out. I feel like I’ve spent so much time trying to be cool about this. You and me. But I’m so fucking far from cool about it.” Hollander says all in one breath, the words pouring out of him like he’s on a time limit. 

“Hollander - “ 

“No, please.” Shane shakes his head. “If I don’t say it now, I’m never going to. And I feel like if I don’t say it, I’m going to spend the rest of my life thinking about it and I need to think about something else.” 

Ilya clamps his lips shut. 

Shane takes his hat off. He has tears in his eyes when he looks at Ilya again. 

“I don’t hook up with other people. Ever. You’re the first person I slept with and I haven’t slept with anyone else since. Maybe that makes me lame or weird, but I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else. Sex and…feelings are like the same thing for me.” 

Ilya feels the words like a sucker punch to the throat. 

“I’m not saying that I’ve always had feelings for you, because I didn’t know how I felt at first. When this started, I think I was too shocked that you actually wanted to fuck me that I couldn’t really think about much else.” He huffs a humourless laugh. “But the more we saw each other, the more I - you were always so fucking nice. And funny. And a smartass. But gentle and kind, too. And I wanted - I got so stuck on wanting to know you. Not just sex, but to really, truly know you as a person.” 

Shane rubs his forehead as he looks at the floor. Tears fall to the wood beside his shoe. 

“But then you - after we -” Shane takes a deep breath. “Before the Olympics, that time at my place, I think I - I realized it then. How much I like you. How I can’t differentiate between sex and feelings. How much I wanted…more. And then you just disappeared from my life. There was nothing.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ilya says because he has to say something. He can’t be silent anymore. “I know that was wrong of me.” 

Shane looks up at him, wiping his still wet eyes. “I don’t expect you to apologize. You didn’t promise me anything. I’m the one who went and made this complicated.” 

“No, I -” 

“It’s not your fault, okay?” Shane interrupts sternly. “I’m the one who has the problem. I’m the one who is so hung up on you I can’t even look at someone else.” 

Fuck, Ilya’s going to faint. 

Before he can even try to unpack that statement, Shane continues. 

“That’s why I said we shouldn’t kiss. I was trying so fucking hard to not want you as badly as I do. I tried. And you didn’t kiss me in the summer so I thought that’s what you wanted, too.” 

Shane barrels on before Ilya can even attempt to protest. 

“I’m just trying to tell you that I’m sorry. For the last time. When you were at my place. I set the rules for no kissing and then completely ignored it. I feel like I…forced you to kiss me. I practically forced myself on you and it’s been fucking killing me ever since.” Hollander sobs the last words out, and Ilya can’t stay away anymore. 

He wraps Shane up in his arms, grateful that the other man doesn’t protest. He lets Ilya hold him as he continues to cry, and it makes Ilya think of Svetlana holding him through his own crisis a few weeks ago. 

“Shane, Shane. No, sweetheart. You did not force me.” Ilya says, rubbing Shane’s back. 

“But I did. I pulled you down into the kiss and you didn’t like it. You left afterwards and seemed so upset about it. I shouldn’t have - I was trying so hard not to. But I missed you. Missed it so much, and I - I was so caught up in how I feel about you that I -” Shane continues, his whole body trembling now. 

“Fuck, Shane. No. You have it all wrong, baby.” Ilya says emphatically, putting his hands on either side of Shane’s face so he’ll look at him. His face is a mess of tears, cheeks red and eyes puffy. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Ilya. I wish I was different. I wish -” 

“You are perfect, Shane. I would not change a single thing about you, do you hear me?” Ilya interrupts, unable to bear what Shane thinks of himself. 

How could he ever think that he needs to be different? Needs to be more?  

“I’m standing here crying in your hallway like a fucking freak -” Shane is saying, but Ilya’s lips interrupt him. 

He kisses Shane hard for a second, only so he’ll stop talking. And then when he doesn’t try to speak anymore, Ilya puts his hand into Shane’s hair and tilts his head to the side so he can kiss him softly. He licks into Hollander’s mouth gently but thoroughly, over and over again, pressing their tongues together. Shane makes a whiney sound in the back of his throat and then his hands are moving up. 

He wraps them around Ilya’s shoulders which brings their chests together. Ilya gets his other arm around Shane’s waist and pulls them together everywhere, wanting to feel the other man’s body heat. Wanting to be fully immersed in the hazy pleasure of Shane’s scent, his damp breath on his cheek. 

“You never forced me, Shane. I had not thought of anything else but kissing you for months before that night. I dreamed of it.” Ilya pulls away long enough to say the words, carding his fingers through Shane’s slightly damp hair. Their faces are so close that Ilya’s lips are wet not only from Shane’s mouth but from his tears, as well. 

“It was not your fault that I left.” He continues, his turn to be as bravely honest as Shane was. Fuck. That’s about the millioneth reason Ilya’s in love with him. He has such guts coming here tonight and being this openly honest. 

He places kisses all along Shane’s face and neck, holding him as close as possible. “You think you are not cool because you have feelings for me? Hm?” 

Shane nods his agreement before kissing Ilya again. It lasts for a few more seconds before Ilya pulls away again. Not far, but he needs his mouth to speak. 

“I am not cool, either. Apparently. Because I like you too, Shane. I have always liked you.” He whispers, tucking his face into the other man’s neck. He feels how hard Shane’s pulse is pounding. “Was trying to push you away. At the Olympics. All I wanted was to talk to you. See you. But it was not safe.” 

“Fuck, Ilya -” 

“My country is not like yours. You know this, yes?”

“Yes, I know.” 

Ilya peeks up at him again. “My father is an awful man. Police. My brother is police. They find out about me and you? They punish us.” 

Shane’s eyes go wide with alarm. “Ilya.” He tenderly strokes a hand through Ilya’s curls. “I didn’t know.” 

Ilya swallows, the sound audible in the air between them. “You said you want to know me?” 

Shane nods eagerly. “Everything, yes. If you want to tell me.” 

Ilya’s chest is so tight it’s burning. The urge to run and hide is crushingly strong. He’s always running away. Laughing it off. Ignoring the hurt and the pain and the want. 

The hurt of his mother’s loss. The pain of his father’s anger and fists. The want of the man currently holding onto him like he has zero plans to let him go. 

He thinks Shane deserves better. Someone who isn’t Ilya, a fucked up mess with a ton of unresolved issues. 

But he can’t ignore the wanting of him anymore. It’s too strong, more powerful than anything he’s ever felt. 

“I have so many feelings about you, Shane. I do not know how many, but is a lot.” He says, wishing he could be eloquent in English. He could write speeches to Shane in Russian. Now he feels like a little kid trying to put together five coherent sentences. 

“I have not felt like this about someone in my whole life.” He looks away from Shane’s eyes, but stays close. “I am scared of it. Because of my country. And because I feel like I will not be good enough for you. I did not know if you liked me, too. Or wanted us to be more. But I still thought about it, and that I would not be good.” 

Shane leans in and kisses him this time. “Please don’t say that. You don’t even know how wrong I think you are, Ilya.” 

Ilya panics. “I am wrong for you?” 

Shane shakes his head, kissing all over his face. “No, no! I didn’t mean wrong for me. I meant that you are wrong right now for thinking you’re not good enough for me.” 

Ilya huffs. 

“English is so dumb.” 

Shane laughs, which breaks through a little of the tension in Ilya’s chest. “Yes. English is very stupid.” 

“Very uncool.” 

Hollander laughs again. “You’re so…cute.” 

Ilya raises his eyebrows. “I am cute? Shane, I am not a kitten.” He has been called many things in his life, but cute has never been one of them. 

“You are cute, though.” Shane says, his smile suddenly turning into a serious expression as he looks all over Ilya’s face. “I’ve always thought that. You’re hot too, obviously. But when you joke around you’re very cute.” He swallows. “I didn’t think I could say that to you, though.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because we’re just fuck buddies. And fuck buddies don’t have crushes on each other.” Shane explains, so serious it’s like it’s written in stone somewhere. A rule he must follow forever or be struck down. 

Ilya kisses him again. 

“This is not true because we have crushes on each other. Oops. Is this the first time you are rule breaker, Hollander? I am glad I took more than one of your virginities.” He wags his eyebrows suggestively and Shane smacks his chest. 

“Fuck off.” 

“I love when you say that to me.” Ilya says genuinely. “Means you are more relaxed.” 

Shane pauses, looking like he’s expecting Ilya to be lying about it or making fun of him. But then he asks, “Really?” 

“Yes, I notice this. I also think it’s adorable that you fold your clothes before sex. I feel like the first time I saw you do it was when I started to be in love with you.” 

Shane makes a gasping sound. 

Ilya freezes, realizing what he just said. But it was so easy to say. It’s the truth. And they’re being honest tonight. 

It’s so freeing. 

“Ilya, did you -” Shane asks, tightening his grip on Ilya’s shoulders. 

“I love you.” Ilya says through his own tears now. “This makes me the most uncool, yes?” 

Shane shakes his head quickly. “No, no.” He kisses Ilya gently, almost like he’s worried he’ll break him. “Not uncool. It makes you so fucking cool. The best, actually. God, I love you, too. So much. Oh fuck, really? You love me?” 

Ilya chuckles as he kisses him, feeling like he’s soaring across the sky. 

“Yes, Shane.” 

“Oh, fuck.” Hollander says again, kissing Ilya deeply this time. It turns intense right away, both of them hungry for each other. “Can we - I need -” 

Ilya’s eyes snap to his. “What do you need?” 

“You. I need you so much.” 

God, his heart has never felt so full. 

Ilya grabs Shane’s hand and walks him further into the house towards his bedroom. It reminds him of the last time when they were at Shane’s apartment, Ilya leading him upstairs with their hands threaded together. 

But this time he’s not wondering how close he can be to Shane; or thinking about how badly he wants to kiss him. Ilya can kiss him - as much as he wants - because Shane loves him. 

Holy fuck. 

He’s going to buy Svetlana a new car or something. 

Their mouths stay together kissing as they take their clothes off, neither of them wanting to break contact. Shane, once again, doesn’t bother folding his clothes but he toes them into a neatish pile on the floor. Ilya smiles as they lie together on the bed. 

“How do you want -” me, he tries to say. 

But then Shane suddenly sits up and straddles him, settles his full weight into Ilya’s lap as he hungrily kisses him. Both of Shane’s hands are on Ilya’s face as they make out heavily, grinding into each other and moaning. 

It’s the best thing Ilya’s ever felt. Shane has only kissed him hard like this once before, and Ilya thinks it’s because he’s not holding himself back. Shane’s relaxed, entirely focused on the pleasure and kissing; not trying to hide how he feels. 

Ilya reaches down with one hand to stroke both of them together, not needing spit because they’re both so fucking wet.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Shane cries, moving his hips like he’s riding Ilya properly. Fast and heavy, his strong legs coiled tight against Ilya’s waist. His hands go to the top of Shane’s ass, encouraging him to keep going because the way it makes Shane’s cock rub against his own feels amazing. Shane reaches up to brace himself with one hand against the headboard as he pumps his legs more. 

Shane licks into his mouth now, too. He kisses and kisses and kisses Ilya, making soft little sounds when their tongues touch. He nips at Ilya’s lips, stinging a little, before he soothes it with a lick. Hollander holds Ilya’s face so tenderly yet firmly that it steadies Ilya. Makes him feel held and safe and so turned on he’s about to sob. 

“Yes, oh God. I am already -” Ilya whimpers forcefully, a little embarrassed that he’s about to come. 

But Shane’s mouth is entirely undoing him. 

“You going to come for me, Ilya?” Shane asks, his voice turned a little meaner now. Not angry, but commanding. 

It makes Ilya shiver as he nods, the core of him feeling hot and tight. “Shane, oh fuck - kiss me.” 

Shane does, thrusting his tongue into Ilya’s mouth. Ilya sucks on it as he comes against his hand and Shane’s stomach, eyes squeezing closed tight involuntarily. The pleasure is almost unbearable. 

As the intensity of it slowly fades and their kissing settles back to gentleness, Ilya becomes aware of something. 

His head feels fuzzy again, like last time. He feels a bit untethered and…lost. Like he’s about to become mist and drift away. But then it’s okay, everything’s completely okay, because Shane is pressing kisses all over his face; threading his fingers through Ilya’s hair as he stops moving his hips. 

Shane encourages Ilya to move his hand out from between them, which he does. He tries to bring it up to Shane’s hip, but Shane just shakes his head and guides his arm to the mattress. The relief is immediate as he’s able to relax the muscles in his arm and focus on the feel of the other man still in his lap. 

Shane feels like a weighted blanket on him as he leans further down so their chests can brush. “You’re okay.” He tells Ilya. 

“I know.” He whispers, clearing his throat. His mouth is dry. “You are here.” 

Shane smiles shyly at him. “Yes, I’m here.” 

They stay like that for a few minutes, kissing a little more but mostly just cuddling, before Ilya feels steady enough to try to sit up. He nudges Shane’s arms. “Change spots with me. You have not -” 

Shane’s already complying, getting on his back. His cock is still heavy and practically begging for Ilya’s touch. As he hovers over Shane, he starts to stroke him with his one hand while feeling up his chest with the other. He knows Shane likes this. 

“I’m not gonna last.” Shane gasps, and Ilya knows this too. “Fast, please.” 

Ilya picks up his pace, licking his lips. He leans down so their mouths are closer and Shane immediately pulls him in for a kiss. It’s softer this time, mostly because Shane is panting hard into his mouth as he comes undone in Ilya’s hand. 

“Yes, yes, Ilya I -” He says, throwing his head back against the pillow. He cries out, practically shouts as he paints Ilya’s hand with his come. Ilya kisses him through it, humming happily when Shane gives him a proper kiss again. 

Despite the mess, Shane pulls him closer so they can cuddle. He doesn’t let go of Ilya for a second, still kissing him as they face each other. They’re both smiling and giggling and kissing all at the same time. 

Ilya feels like he might cry. But tears of joy this time. 

“This is not what I thought would happen tonight.” Shane says, expression darkening a little bit. Ilya kisses his cheeks and then forehead. 

“Me either. But I am glad you came over.” 

“I was freaking out.” Shane admits, and Ilya nods. 

“Yes, I can imagine. But you were very brave, Shane. Much more brave than me. I have sent you stupid messages the last two months because I was too afraid to ask you to meet. I thought you would say no.” 

Shane kisses his chin and hugs him tight. “Really?” 

“Yes. I wrote it so many times but I was afraid.” Ilya swallows against the anxiety he can feel creeping back. He’s still so insanely happy, but he knows they have to talk about how this is actually going to work. 

He still doesn’t want to get it wrong. He doesn’t want to disappoint Shane by being sad sometimes or have this be too risky because of where he comes from. 

“You’re shaking.” Shane says, leaning back so he can look at Ilya properly. “Are you okay?” Ilya nods, but then shakes his head and eventually buries his face back into Shane’s neck. Shane strokes a hand through his hair. “Ilya, talk to me.” 

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to find the words. 

“I am not used to getting things I want.” He says. “I do not want it to be…taken away because of - complications?” 

Shane pulls back so they can look at each other again. “Complications?” 

“Da.” Ilya nods. “Hockey. Russia. Me. All the things that could make this not work.” 

“Ilya -” 

“I want you, Shane. For real. I am serious about it but there are so many things that could - my father would not -” He stops himself, needing a second to think. “We need to be careful.” 

Shane nods, but there’s still a frown between his eyes. “We’ve always been careful.” 

“Yes, I know, but -” 

“I think I know what you’re saying. We can’t be found out because you might not be able to go back to Russia, and if people in the hockey world know we’re together it could be bad for us.” 

Ilya makes a small sound in his throat, grateful Shane seems to understand him. “Yes. I am scared of this very much. It’s one of the reasons I tried to push you away.” 

Shane holds him again, and Ilya can’t believe they’ve never done this before. He loves cuddling, especially when it’s Shane. 

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure we’re safe, Ilya.” Shane whispers, kissing him again. “I’ll do anything I can if it means we can be…together. Properly.” 

This is what Ilya was trying to tell Svetlana before. Shane’s fierce love for the people he cares about. Ilya had only seen glimpses of it before when Shane would talk about his parents or even Hayden and his kids. Like Shane would move heaven and earth if it meant he could protect the people he loves. 

Ilya’s one of those people now, and he can feel how much Shane means the words. They comfort him, soothe all the doubts and worry and fear because Shane has him. 

They have each other. 

“Okay. Yes. I will do anything too, Shane.” Ilya whispers back, hoping the words sound as sincere as Shane’s did. Apparently they do because Shane is suddenly back on top of him again, kissing Ilya everywhere his mouth can reach. 

“God, you’re so - I want to - fuck, I can’t ever get enough.” Shane says, the words a bit slurred. He might be drooling a little bit as he kisses across Ilya’s chest. 

“Yes, same here.” Ilya agrees and that makes Shane laugh. 

“You’re so cute.” 

Ilya groans, feigning annoyance. “I am not cute, Hollander. Manly and strong, yes. Hot as fuck, yes. But not cute.” 

Shane ignores him, biting his nipple instead which makes Ilya suck in a breath. “You’re cute if I say you’re cute, Rozanov. Don’t argue.” 

Oh, hell. 

Shane’s dominant side is such a turn on. 

“Okay, no arguing.” He agrees, losing himself to the pleasure of Shane’s mouth. 

**

“I have an early flight tomorrow.” Shane tells him a few hours later. They’re back in Ilya’s bed on clean sheets, the lights off. It’s getting close to two in the morning and both of them are tired but fighting it, wanting as much time as possible together. 

“Yes.” Ilya nods, knowing he does too. “We should sleep, then.” Shane’s head is pillowed on his chest - that’s now marked with hickeys - and Ilya’s stroking his back. 

They showered together and made a light snack, talking and laughing in the kitchen for a little while. They sat in the same spots as he and Svetlana had all those weeks ago as they ate their toast, and Ilya had smiled at the thought. She was going to be so happy when she told him. 

“I just need to know something.” Shane says, his voice already heavy with sleepiness. He looks up at Ilya, a serious expression on his face. 

“Ask me anything, moya lyubov.” 

“Are you - I don’t know if I can - well, it’s not my place I guess but I don’t think - fuck, I mean -” 

Ilya brushes his thumb across Shane’s freckled cheek and hums. “You are so stressed, sweetheart. Take a deep breath.” 

Shane does, and Ilya feels his body relax again. After a few seconds, he blurts out, “Do you still want to fuck other people?” 

Ilya nearly chokes on his tongue. “What? Shane, no -” 

“I know you sleep with other people. I don’t know how many, but if I’m basing it off social media and people’s assumptions it’s a lot. Which is not something I’m judging you for, but I - I’ve always been jealous and now that you said you love me, I just wondered -” 

For the second time tonight, Ilya interrupts him with a kiss. He devours Shane’s mouth for a few seconds, thinking to himself that he never wants to kiss another mouth ever again. This is all he needs. 

“No, Shane. Nobody else. I do not want anyone else.” 

“Really?” Shane asks, sounding doubtful and sad. Ilya kisses him again. 

“I promise, Shane. You are all I need and want. It’s been that way for a long time.” He rolls on top of the other man this time, positioning his wrists above his head. Not aggressively, but assertively. He holds eye contact with Shane, seeing the way his eyes glisten with tears. 

“But I - I’m not enough -” 

“Stop. Shane, you are. Do not say things like you are not enough or you wish you were different. I do not want anything different. And you are enough. I am not a liar. Not about you.” 

Shane arches up into him, nodding like he’s agreeing. “Okay, okay. Yes, I -” 

“You have to believe me or I will keep you awake all night until you say you do.” Ilya says, and Shane chuckles. 

“I believe you. I do. Hey, don’t tickle me! Ilya!” 

Ilya only tickles him for a second longer before he stops, moving to his back again and pulling Shane into his side. He fits against him so seamlessly, like two puzzle pieces. 

Shane kisses the skin over his heart and Ilya kisses the top of his head, both of them murmuring quiet ‘goodnights’ before they fall into deep sleep. 

**

Ilya: I talked with Jane

Svetlana: FOR REAL? 

Ilya: Yes. and you were right

Svetlana: Don’t be surprised, I usually am

Ilya: I am taking you out for dinner. Nicest place you can think of ❤️

Svetlana: I’m happy for you baby

Ilya: Yes. We can’t fuck anymore, just so you know. I am in an exclusive relationship 😝

Svetlana: We haven’t done that for ages. I’m seeing someone, anyway

Ilya: Since when? Do I know him? 

Svetlana: You don’t know her, but you will soon

Ilya: ❤️

Svetlana: ❤️

**

2 months later - Montreal 

“Shane, I am freaking out.” 

His boyfriend pokes his head into the bedroom, toothbrush in his mouth as he asks, “What? Why? Because of my parents?” 

“Yes! You say that like it means nothing at all.” Ilya whines, currently sitting on Shane’s bed surrounded by a pile of his clothes that he brought because he couldn’t decide what to wear when he meets Yuna and David for the first time. 

Shane puts a finger up as if to say ‘wait a sec.’ Ilya listens to him finish brushing his teeth and then he comes back a moment later, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s shoulders. 

“I promise you that neither of my parents care what you’re wearing.” He strokes Ilya’s hair as Ilya hugs his middle. 

“Okay, so I wear a bunny suit and they have no opinion about this?” 

Shane chuckles. “You don’t own a bunny suit…right?” 

“No, Hollander.” Ilya groans, standing up and motioning to the pile of clothes beside him. “Help me pick a shirt please.” 

Shane grabs one of the first ones he sees, examining it for all of five seconds before he nods and hands it to Ilya. “That’s fine. I like you in that shirt.” 

“Does that mean it’s sexy?” 

Shane nods, shamelessly checking Ilya out. “Definitely.” 

“Then is not appropriate for your parents! You are no help to me.” He flicks his wrist in the direction of the door, but Shane doesn’t leave. He rolls his eyes. 

“Ilya, just wear a button up then. This green one. It will go with anything and it looks nice on you. Not sexy, but nice.” Shane says, and Ilya sighs. 

“Okay.” He shrugs it on, still not feeling like it’s good enough. But at this point he doesn’t think anything will feel good enough. 

Shane smiles at him fondly once he’s dressed, which Ilya can’t help but return. He knows Shane is excited that his parents are coming over for dinner and they’re going to meet Ilya properly. He tries to focus on that instead of what clothes he has on. 

“You look great. I promise.” 

Ilya kisses him. “So do you.” 

**

“Nice to finally meet you, Ilya.” Yuna says, smiling at him as she shakes his hand. “Properly, that is.” 

“Nice to meet you as well. Hello, sir.” He says to Shane’s dad, also shaking his hand. 

David chuckles. “Just call me David. Or Dave.” 

“Nobody calls you Dave.” Yuna quips, frowning at her husband. 

“I can still suggest it.” David says, smiling. 

Ilya laughs, already feeling himself relaxing. He’s been more nervous about today than he’s told Shane. He doesn't always make a great first impression on people, and he wants to get this right. It means a lot to him that today goes well, especially considering that up until a few weeks ago, Shane’s parents still thought they were rivals. 

“Dinner is almost ready.” Shane tells them, leading everyone towards the kitchen and away from the front door. 

“Smells good.” David comments, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s just spaghetti.” 

“But the sauce is special, apparently. Takes a long time to come together but is worth it because it tastes amazing.” Ilya says, smiling at Shane who blushes at the comment. 

“Ah, so Shane has made this for you before.” Yuna says. “It’s my mother’s recipe.” 

“Oh? I did not know this. But yes, he has made it before. I keep telling him it would be even better with real noodles and not zucchini ones.” 

“Zucchini noodles are still noodles.” Shane says over his shoulder as he stirs the sauce. 

“Not true.” Ilya sighs. 

“Lucky for you that I made both then.” 

Everyone chuckles at that. 

When they’re all sitting together at the table a little while later, Yuna asks Ilya lots of questions about his family and life and career. Ilya answers them as best he can, feeling a little bit intimidated. But he knows she’s asking out of concern for who her son is dating. 

“Mom, can you ease up, please?” Shane begs, eyes wide as he looks at her. Ilya notices that he’s barely touched any of his food. 

Yuna sips her wine. “Yes, sorry. I wasn’t trying to - I don’t know. I just want to get to know him.” 

“Is fine, I don’t mind.” Ilya interjects honestly. He puts his hand on top of Shane’s. “Your food is going to get cold, moya lyubov. C’mon, eat.” 

Shane holds his gaze for a moment before he picks up his fork, nodding. 

“I have to say I’m surprised about you, Ilya.” David says, clearing his throat. Ilya looks over at him, waiting for him to continue. “You have a reputation as a ladies man.” 

“Dad -” Shane says exasperatedly, but Ilya squeezes his hand again. 

“Yes, that is true. I have been with many women.” He says, rubbing soothing circles into Shane’s skin. He wants his boyfriend to finish his food and he won’t if he continues to be so stressed. “But, I have only been in love with one person. And that’s Shane.” 

He glances back over at Shane and they smile at each other for a long moment before Ilya looks away and lets his hand go. 

“Same here. Only one person.” Shane says.  

Yuna wipes at her eyes, the gesture so like Shane that Ilya smiles. “I’m…glad you two found each other, then. Very glad.” 

“Me too. I’ve never seen Shane happier, honestly.” David adds, which makes Ilya feel like he might cry, too. 

“Okay guys, enough.” Shane chuckles, eating with enthusiasm now. “You’re going to make Ilya cry.” 

“Is lie. I am too manly to cry.” 

“Whatever. You know he was trying to figure out what to wear for like two hours today?” 

Ilya swats at him. “Hey!” 

“He was so nervous.” Shane continues, and Ilya can feel his cheeks heat. 

Yuna and David smile at them, glancing at each other. “To meet us?” Yuna asks. 

“I mean, well - yes. I care about Shane a lot and I know how much you two mean to him.” Ilya explains, watching as Yuna’s eyes fill with tears again. 

David rubs her back as he notices. “Maybe we should all talk about something else or everyone is going to be crying in a minute.” 

Ilya laughs. “Okay, Dave. We can talk about the weather or something. Who here hates snow?” 

Shane’s dad looks absolutely delighted to be called ‘Dave.’ “If I have to shovel our driveway one more time I’m moving somewhere tropical.” 

**

Ilya gets hugged by Yuna and David a few hours later when they leave. He’s taking this as a good sign that the evening went well, especially when Shane practically jumps into his arms the second he closes the door behind them. 

“You were amazing.” Hollander says, kissing him. Ilya walks them into the kitchen and places Shane down on the counter. He stands between his legs. 

“Yes? You think they -” 

“They already love you. I can tell.” Shane nods. “But not as much as I love you.” He wraps his arms around Ilya’s shoulders, pulling him close. 

Ilya smiles before he says, “I love you, too.” 

And then they’re kissing again. 

Chapter End Notes

Thanks so much for reading :)