Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories:

F/M, M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov/Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Patrice Drapeau, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Hayden Pike, Gilbert Comeau, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Original Characters

Additional Tags:

The Shane/Ilya/Svetlana Love Triangle No One Was Asking For, Shane's Beautiful Mind Redefining the Concept of Friends with Benefits, Racism, Queerphobia, Homophobia, All the Isms, Sports Culture from the POV of a Couch Potato (Me), Making Stuff Up About Hockey, Seriously This Is Not How Hockey Works, Industrial Grade Gutter Racism Towards Black and Asian Men, Infidelity, Content Notes at Chapter End Notes, Group Chats, Slurs, Sexting, Shane's Issues with Food

Language:

English

Series:

Part 9 of Hope You're Not Waiting For Me to Wait For You

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-12 Completed: 2026-04-17 Words: 15,889 Chapters: 5/5

You Keep Coming Up with Reasons

Summary

Shane Hollander won the Stanley Cup (the first one of his career, mind you) and he will enjoy the MLH awards. No scandal on Earth will take his triumph away from him. Or his much deserved hook up with his rival and now friend, Ilya Rozanov.

Notes

You know when you get a vivid daydream of a particular scene between characters from a TV show you just watched, but for it to make sense to anyone besides you, you need to write like 100k words first? That's what's happening here. To me.

There will be individual content notes at chapter ends.

Chapter 1

The first thing Shane did with his MLH money was buy the property neighboring his childhood home. His parents had tried to stop him, but Shane had insisted. Their neighbors had been looking to retire and spend their golden years cruising all over the world, so it wasn't like he was cruelly kicking anyone out of their long time home. Or their gorgeous backyard, which included a small but serviceable lagoon that froze over nicely over the winter.

Shane was hardly ever home during winters, but at least his parents got to enjoy it. They also kept the additional home furnished and used it to host friends and family members. Sometimes, Yuna mused about renting it out, but Shane didn't see the need. Both of his parents still worked, though David only part time. Even if they didn't, Shane made enough money that they could both retire and live comfortably without ever having to worry. His parents both prided themselves in their independence, though, and neither wanted to take advantage of him.

Now, it was a sunny summer day. The surface of the lagoon gleamed as Shane and his parents lounged in comfortable silence in the adjacent gazebo. David read one of his fantasy paperback novels, Yuna worked on a contract for one of her clients, and Shane sipped idly on concentrated, unsweetened protein cream. Hungry or not, he had weight to regain for the next MLH season. He was scrolling through social media with his phone screen carefully angled away from his parents, almost an hour deep into Ilya's tag. Ilya.

Shane smiled a little to himself every time the name crossed his mind. They were friends now--close friends with a shared secret--so he was Ilya to Shane. Not Roz, or even Rozy. Ilya.

The smile fell off Shane's lips at the next post that hit his screen. Not a replay of a particularly impressive goal, or gif of Ilya's smirking face, or even a meme. It was a picture of him at some red carpet event, arm around a gorgeous girl with a shock of curls. Svetlana. Sveta. Ilya's childhood friend, lover, and favorite girl. According to the Bears. And to Ilya himself.

"Shane, honey, you won't believe this," said Yuna. "Some crazy guy on SportsBet put up one million US dollars on Rozanov overtaking you in lifetime goals next season!"

SportsBet was an online platform with servers in one those regions that had little to no regulations about gambling. Shane shrugged. "Gamblers gamble, Mom."

Since Rozanov had gotten into a bad accident right before the last playoffs and Shane's team had gone on to win the Stanley Cup, Shane now had a whooping twenty-four more goals than him. Barring some freak accident or a precipitous drop in Shane's skills, Rozanov would not overtake him again. Not on lifetime stats. At least not in one season. Honestly, Rozanov was taking it rather well. Which Shane found annoying. Did their rivalry mean nothing to him?

"It's disrespectful," said Yuna. "There's so many bets about the two of you, and they're all against you. Why? You're more popular than him with hockey fans. The demographic data is very clear on that much."

"Betting for the underdog is always more exciting," said David. "It's actually flattering to be bet against in this context."

"Great," mumbled Shane, scrolling mindlessly through hockey-related hashtags. He wanted to know more about the red carpet event with Svetlana, but that would have to wait until he got home so he could deep dive in private.

He wished there was a way of filtering these things. Already, he'd watched the same highlight compilations several times. Of himself, his friends, players from other teams he liked, players from other teams he hated. . . He was tired of all the claims that he and Merrell were soulmates because they played well together, and even more tired of all the claims that it was amazing that they played so well together despite apparently hating each other. Truly skilled players could put aside their differences and get the job done. Surprise, surprise.

God, Shane was bored. He wanted to get back on the ice already.

A new alert interrupted the monotony of it all.

Patrice Drapeau created Shane's Inner Circle

Shane Hollander
wtf is this

Patrice Drapeau
we have a potential problem

Gilbert Comeau
another secret group chat!
wait he's here

Shane Hollander
another?
what happened to the other secret Voyageurs group chat we all pretend I don't know about?

Jake Merrell
I don't think I'm in the circle

Hayden Pike
dude you definitely are

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
I better be in the circle

Shane Hollander
what is the problem

Patrice Drapeau
i have inside news about the MLH awards

Hayden Pike
these ones coming up?

Patrice Drapeau
no the ones from last year
obviously these ones coming up

Shane Hollander
ok what is the *problem*

Patrice Drapeau
you know the rumors about Xie getting rookie of the year?

Hayden Pike
you mean Hockinator talking bullshit?
we all saw Dylan destroy him on reels

Patrice Drapeau
i don't listen to that self important troll
i'm talking about one of my girls
she's related to the voyageurs' owner and wants to go into the business
thinks i'm a hockey imbecile so she keeps talking said business around me post-coitus

Jake Merrell
sounds like she might be the one

Patrice Drapeau
the things i do for this team
i fuck this hot girl who talks around me like I have brain damage
she seems to think i don't speak english even though i'm canadian

Shane Hollander
get to the point Drapeau

Patrice Drapeau
ok so Crowell and lady Wagner have beef
because lady Wagner wants more money for the women's hockey league and he's saying there's no need to bother because it won't ever be profitable

Shane Hollander
and what does that have to do with us?

Patrice Drapeau
Crowell is signaling to the MLH board to not vote Jamie Wagner as rookie of the year

Jake Merrell
you think it'll go to Dylan?

Shane Hollander
so what if it does?
he's the obvious choice if they're gonna ratfuck Wagner out of it

Hayden Pike
is anyone coaching Dylan on what to say if he wins?

Gilbert Comeau
is he even going to Atlanta for the awards?

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
since when does our boy need coaching to run his mouth?

Shane Hollander added Dylan Xie to Shane's Inner Circle

Dylan Xie
the fuck?

Gilbert Comeau
dude don't invite rooks in here

Shane Hollander
@Dylan_Xie are you going to the MLH awards?

Dylan Xie
yeah sure
free food there right?
and i've never been to Atlanta
and i can write the expense off on my taxes

Jake Merrell
what does your invitation say?

Dylan Xie
.png

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
so the main hall
lmao

Dylan Xie
????

Jake Merrell
there's the main hall where the awards are given out
they give you a cheap steak and some palatable booze
and a second hall for all other players where you get unseasoned chicken and shitty box wine

Gilbert Comeau
cheap motherfuckers

Hayden Pike
@Dylan Xie you need some basic coaching for your 3 minute acceptance speech

Dylan Xie
no way guys
shut up

Shane Hollander
talk to Farah about it
it's not a big deal

Dylan Xie
Nik got the same invitation!
maybe he's getting rookie of the year

Jean-Jacques Boiziau added Nikolai Babikov to Shane's Inner Circle

Nikolai Babikov
what's this?

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
Nikki share a screenshot of your MLH Awards invite

Nikolai Babikov
.png

Dylan Xie
see!

Shane Hollander
that's the same invite I got
.png

Nikolai Babikov
what's going on?

Hayden Pike
maybe that's the generic invite
let me see
i got a different one
.png

Gilbert Comeau
Jake?

Jake Merrell
I got the same one as Hollander and Xiekov

Gilbert Comeau
what the hell award are you up for

Shane Hollander
MVP obviously

Gilbert Comeau
he got it last year!

Jake Merrell
I can't help being this good
if anything I deserve it more this year
this team is shitshow after shitshow

Shane Hollander
go beg to get traded again if you hate it so much

Dylan Xie
guys why do you think I'm getting rookie of the year???

Nikolai Babikov
congrats!!!!

Patrice Drapeau
Crowell-Wagner beef
you're an unsuspecting pawn

Dylan Xie
guys come oooon
hockey bros hate me enough as it is
Wagner fanboys might take a hit out on me if i get rookie of the year
i'm gonna throw up

Shane Hollander
Dylan if you get this award it will be a horrible experience for you
but we trust you'll be able to power through this injustice

Dylan Xie
fuck you Shane
maybe it'll be Nik

Nikolai Babikov
I'd be fine getting it
whatever
give me all the trophies

Patrice Drapeau
anyway bros do not reveal this info outside the inner circle
I can't have this woman discovering I'm a fluent English speaker

Nikolai Babikov
of course
but can we add Jeremy to the inner circle too?

Gilbert Comeau
no way
Jeremy is not inner circle material
he can't keep a secret for shit
remember Everglades

Nikolai Babikov
that was an accident
besides I already told him what's going on

Hayden Pike
Nik wtf

Nikolai Babikov
we're playing videogames together
he asked what's up

Patrice Drapeau added Jeremy McAllister to Shane's Inner Circle

Jeremy McAllister
guys!
i'm so proud to be in the inner circle
I won't let you down

Shane Hollander
there's no fucking inner circle

Patrice Drapeau
Jer if you blab about what goes on in this chat I will personally kill you

"Shane, is everything okay?" asked Yuna.

Shane muted the chat and put his phone down. "Yeah. Just the usual nonsense from the guys."

"You looked worried there, son," said David.

Shane looked towards his childhood backyard and to the mountains in the distance. Should he go out for a long hike to help clear his head? Not about the MLH awards; Shane could not care less about that. He bet Crowell and Mrs. Wagner would finish their pissing contest before it got to the point that Dylan got Rookie of the Year. If they didn't for some reason, then Dylan would deal and prepare a tiny canned speech of gratitude. That would be that.

"Shane," said Yuna.

"It's just about Dylan maybe getting Rookie of the Year, Mom," said Shane, trying to smile at her. The worry didn't leave her dark eyes. "I swear; that's it. Drapeau heard something from--a friend of his."

"Is that a bad thing now?" asked David.

"Jamie Wagner should be the one getting it," said Yuna. "Assuming it'll go to a forward. But there's a fight brewing between Crowell and Sandra Wagner about funding for the women's league. I'm fully behind Sandra, obviously. But Shane, are you sure that's it?"

"What else could it be?"

Yuna and David exchanged a tense look. David squared his shoulders and coughed lightly. Shane tried and failed not to sigh in exasperation. Another lecture was coming. Considering the season was over, it would be about how he needed to date more. Or at all. Put himself out there or whatever. David might add that he needed to relax.

"Son, your mother and I have been meaning to talk to you about something sensitive," said David.

Okay, so not a gentle but tedious suggestion about his disturbingly empty romantic life. They would have just started listing eligible women to him. Shane braced himself.

"Your play style. . . changed this season," started Yuna. "At the beginning of the playoffs, to be precise."

The playoffs required more intense strategies and rougher play, which Yuna knew. Shane prayed for patience. "My team won the Stanley Cup," he pointed out. "I'll be the Exemplary Captain of the season." No way Crowell-Wagner bullshit would get in the way of that.

"Yes, and we're very proud of you," said David. Quickly, like he needed it out of the way. "But your demeanor changed during the playoffs. You got into more fights, and your teammates said more than once that they were. . . concerned about your temper."

"Did they say something to you?" asked Shane. 'They' would be Hayden. He was the only one who was remotely close to his parents. But Hayden wouldn't do that to him. Would he?

"No, of course not," said Yuna. "But many of them made nervous jokes during interviews. And Babikov called you--"

He'd said Shane had terminator aura.

"Mom, guys just talk like that," said Shane. "They're very dramatic, though they like to pretend it's--" something women do. "--never mind. Just don't pay them any mind."

"Shane, like we said, we also noticed something changed." David made a point to maintain eye contact.

"Okay," said Shane, sighing. He'd won the freaking Cup and would almost certainly win EC, but of course even that wouldn't make his parents happy. He hadn't done it with enough smiles, apparently. "So, what can I do to reassure you?"

Yuna and David looked at each other again. David reached out to hold Yuna's hand.

Shane started counting to ten in his head.

"Son, we love you no matter what," David started.

"I swear to God, if you ask me if I'm with Dylan again. . ."

"We accepted your answer to that question, Shane," said Yuna. "Please, listen to your father."

Shane bit back a groan and nodded.

"Son, there's no way to ask this gently, so I'll come out and say it." David took a short breath. "Are you taking performance enhancing drugs?"

Shane froze. Replayed the question in his head, in case he'd heard wrong. A shocked snort made it past his lips. "What?"

"If you did," Yuna started.

Shane jumped to his feet and started walking away, unaware of where he was going. His parents followed him and, as Shane considered running in the comfy sandals he was wearing, David grabbed his shoulder. Shane flinched away from him. He realized he was breathing hard.

"Shane!" Yuna cried.

"You think I cheated?" Shane yelled.

"Son, you may not have meant to--"

"--so I'm a fucking moron?"

"Don't raise your voice like that and do not curse at your mother," David said, in a firm tone Shane remembered from his childhood. "Let's go back inside. We need to have a calm, respectful conversation."

Shane nodded jerkily, because these were his parents, after all. If they thought that he would do such a thing, then. . . well, Shane didn't know. He followed them back home, blinking back tears. Worry could make a person think, say, do irrational things. He wouldn't take this line of questioning personally. He couldn't.

Back in the kitchen, David started making tea while Shane sat at a stool on kitchen island counter and Yuna gently ran her hand through his hair. She explained that they were worried, had been for the entire second half of the season, listening as commentators wondered if Shane Hollander was getting into more fights and racking up penalties because he was one of the many athletes abusing synthetic steroids.

They couldn't be hearing that on ESPN, which meant they'd been worried enough to start digging into the cesspool of online commentary. Accusations and fabricated rumors about steroid use got a lot of engagement, and there was little an athlete could do about them.

"They say that about everyone," said Shane. If an athlete was doing well, it was steroids. If they hit a slump, then they were doing steroids before and had stopped. "They've been 'speculating' about this since my time in juniors."

"But you weren't getting into fights those other times," said David, setting down two cups of tea.

"Or ignoring our calls and refusing to talk to us," added Yuna.

"Mom." Shane rubbed his face. "I'm not doing steroids. The league tested me--a random anti-doping check--a week before the Stanley Cup, if you want proof."

"There's no need for you to prove it," said David. "We believe you."

"Great," said Shane.

"But something is going on," said Yuna. "Or was. Can you tell us about it?"

"It was a hard season. Thompson. . ." Shane trailed off. He'd been shocked at the time, but now he hardly remembered it.

Right before the playoffs started, Voyageur veteran D-man Wayne Thompson had gotten into a fight with one of their younger players, been subsequently suspended, and then driven home and killed his wife and son before committing suicide. It'd been tragedy that shocked the entire world. But it was not the reason Shane had spent the rest of the season on the verge of a breakdown. Which his teammates, hockey fans, and apparently his own parents, had all noted.

The truth was, his disastrous attempted hook up with Ilya the following day had left him more shaken. And then, less than a week after it, Ilya's accident (and the videos of it) had hit the internet.

"Have you talked about what happened with anyone?" prompted David.

"Uh, the guys," mumbled Shane, though he hadn't. He didn't have much to say about it. "Anyway, I'm getting over it. Please don't worry about it."

"We'll always worry about you, son," said David.

"Right." Shane forced himself to nod. "Thank you."

He had to stay for dinner, of course, with Yuna happily gossiping about MLH news and David making silly jokes even though he didn't really care about any of it.

"I can't believe John Beaty retired so early," said Yuna, dipping her sushi into teriyaki sauce. "He'd just started to enter into a more mature style of play."

"He said he made good investments in the six years he played," said Shane, trying to calculate if his macros would be messed up for the day if he added some teriyaki to his salmon. "Plus, his wife got pregnant and he decided he wants to be a stay-at-home dad."

"So Theriault will get an extra rookie in the next draft?" asked David.

"Hm." Shane shook his head. Better not to mess with the macros. His sauteed salmon was fine. "If it was me, I'd try to get a more experienced forward from another team."

"Me too," said Yuna. "With. . . you know, the Voyageurs salary cap is not close to maxed out. And since you're the year's champions, it'll be easier to recruit promising players."

"I hope so," said David.

"Honey?" said Yuna.

"Not all Voyageurs publicity this season was good," David pointed out.

His parents went on to discuss the Thompson scandal some more, including the renewed interest after their dumbass rookies accidentally livestreamed an emotionally charged 'memorial' from the Everglades in Florida. Where they'd cryptically alluded to details that had not been made public while joking about doing drugs and calling each other names. And babbling about how much Shane and Merrell, the Voyageurs' undisputed top forwards, hated each other.

"You know, if Merrell got traded, it would be great for the Voyageurs' salary cap," Yuna said, a little later.

That you be terrible for them. Much as the man was annoying, his skill as a right wing was undeniable. "Mom, I told you, we don't have issues on the ice and that' what matters."

"Off-ice chemistry affects on-ice chemistry," said Yuna.

Shane wanted nothing more than to flee to his condo in Montreal. The secret one, though there was no risk that his parents would show up at his place unannounced. But it was where he went when he wanted to feel truly safe.

Hours later, he stumbled onto his bed and tried to find enough energy to at least shower. Didn't his parents know him? It was one thing for random assholes to wonder if he was cheating. Online ghouls had to fish for engagement somehow and the internet was a cesspool of frustrated, underachieving trolls. But his parents? Yuna? She'd seen how much he'd sacrificed to get to where he was. She ought to know that Shane would not respect himself if his accomplishments were fake. What it would mean to him if he ever got caught doping.
He reached for his phone, eager for a distraction. What was his clown car of a team going on about today?

Voyageurs

Greg Cornick
it's fucking hilarious that the Sportsmanship Trophy is going to Rozanov
Fucking Rozanov
If he didn't spend so much time in the penalty box he'd have cleared 100 goals last year

Aubrey Williams
it should've gone to cancer guy
that's the tradition

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
jumping over a Bentley while bleeding to death is objectively more badass than not dying of cancer
sorry to cancer guy

Jonas Raphael Carmichael III
Sportsmanship Trophy is a fake award anyway

Gilbert Comeau
you'll never get it with that attitude

David Taylor
hey someone asked Jamie Wagner to comment on Xie

Dylan Xie
omg WHY

Nikolai Babikov
he said nice things

Gilbert Comeau
lame
why are all these superstars so fucking lame

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
Wagner's not a superstar
he is 12 years old

Shane Hollander
the smart thing is to be polite and professional when reporters try to bait you
@Dylan_Xie have you talked to Farah about a media strategy for this situation

Dylan Xie
i don't know wtf this situation even is

Patrice Drapeau
looks like the league wants another Rozanov-Hollander duo

Jonas Raphael Carmichael III
and they want Xie and Wagner for it???

Greg Cornick
sounds pretty fucking stupid
no offense Patrice

Dylan Xie
they didn't ask me if I wanted that

Shane Hollander
you think they asked me if I wanted to be asked about Rozanov every single time someone shoves a microphone in front of my face?

Jake Merrell
it's fine Dylan
Wagner's family will make sure he keeps it professional
you do the same
you guys are not in the same conference so this whole thing won't have as much juice as the Roz-Hollander situation

Shane Hollander
and Wagner is a way better player than you so this rivalry would be boring as hell anyway

Dylan Xie
thanks Shane

Boring. The stupid MLH awards were boring. Shane wanted to win EC, of course, but they could just send the trophy to his fucking house and be done with it.

His phone vibrated. It was a message that made a grin split across his face. From Rozanov, Roz, Ilya. Shane liked to think all three names now; all of them belonged to him. Not literally. Just. . . he and Ilya were friends now. Friends who sent each other links to YouTube videos of highlights from their games. A creative fan had made a video of their respective Stanley Cup wins and was asking for opinions about which series had been more exciting to watch.

Ilya Rozanov

Ilya Rozanov
mine was better of course
we were up against the LA Kings
better team than stupid Toronto Knights

Shane Hollander
my final match went overtime

Ilya Rozanov
because Voygeurs suck

Shane Hollander
Voyageurs are the current champions

Ilya Rozanov
until i come back next season and Bears destroy you

Shane Hollander
hey
are you alone?

Ilya Rozanov
yes
should we switch to other chat?
you have other phone ready?

Shane Hollander
no
i mean
that's not what i'm asking

Ilya Rozanov
oh?

Shane Hollander
nvm
are you going to MLH awards next week

Ilya Rozanov
yes have to
never thought i would ever get sportsmanship award
mama would be so proud of me

Shane Hollander
and will you have a plus one?

Ilya Rozanov
Hollander are you asking if Svetlana is coming with me?

Shane Hollander
not her specifically

Ilya Rozanov
who else would be my plus one?
but no
Sveta went back to Moscow yesterday
she has business to deal with

Shane Hollander
oh
can we videocall?

Ilya Rozanov
what?

Shane Hollander
nvm i know we don't do that
sorry

Ilya Rozanov is video calling. . .

Shane accepted the call, immediately covering his eyes. "Hi."

"Kotik, what is wrong?" asked Ilya.

Shane peered at him for a second, then pointed the camera at his ceiling.

"Hollander," said Ilya. "Let me look at you."

Shane sat up and grabbed his phone. He met Ilya's amused gaze for a second, then looked at the little window showing his own blotchy cheeks. Fuck, what was his good angle? He was somehow giving himself a wonky double chin. He held the phone up.

"Hollander."

"Give me a second," said Shane. He had to get this right.

"Look at me," said Ilya.

Shane obeyed, though his felt his face getting hotter. Ilya certainly wasn't giving himself a silly double chin. He laid on his side, casual and confident, blue eyes piercing. "What is wrong?"

"It's just. . ." Shane swallowed. "Do you think I'd ever use steroids?"

Ilya snorted. "You? Steroids? With your special diet? Zero added sugar, no fun ever?"

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Your come tastes like ass, Hollander."

"You would fucking know, wouldn't you?"

Ilya laughed, so hard that his phone toppled over and Shane was left starting at his ceiling while he cackled. A few moments later he mumbled something in Russian, which Shane didn't need to understand to know he was being made fun of.

"Fuck you!" said Shane, falling back on his bed.

"Wait, wait! Kotik, come back! I will be serious; I promise."

Begrudgingly, Shane came back to his screen.

"There you are," said Ilya. "No, malysh. I don't think you would ever do steroids. Would be cheating, no? My rival would not cheat. Why do you ask me this?"

"Everyone's saying I am."

"They say this of every top athlete," said Ilya.

Shane made a vague noise. "Have--would you?"

"What do you think?"

Shane shrugged. "I wouldn't want you to." In fact, it made him sick to think so. One of the best things about Ilya, probably the best thing about him, was how strong he was. If Shane believed in God, then Ilya would be his evidence of it.

"I never have," said Ilya. "I wouldn't want to."

That was an odd way of phrasing it. Wouldn't want to, not wouldn't. "Is it not considered cheating in Russia?"

"'Course it is," said Ilya. "But it's not the same, to cheat in Russia, I think. Maybe. But Sergei Vetrov was. . . how do you say? Very American, by the time he found me. He was clear with my father; if I ever got caught with drugs of any kind, he would not pay for coaches, travel, or tuition at private school. He would leave me for KHL to chew up and spit out. Then, I got drafted by MLH and now they keep asking for my piss all the time, no warning." He rolled his eyes. "Is annoying."

"You went to private school?" asked Shane.

"For junior hockey team," said Ilya. "Not for any other unimportant thing."

"But would you?" insisted Shane. "Steroids, I mean. Would you take them?"

"No." Ilya shook his head. "They say your dick stops working if you do. I need mine to please my Jane."

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

Shane finally googles Hollanov and learns what RPF is.

Chapter Notes

I'm trying to get this fic out before I go on my trip this weekend and rewire my brain from change in location but at this point this is likely delusional.

If his attitude during the playoffs somehow made his parents think he was on steroids, then maybe Shane hadn't been coping as well as he'd thought. A few days before the MLH awards, he holed up in his Montreal condo and started watching the Voyageurs playoff games, which he had to do regardless to study their performance, and. . . all right. He saw what everyone was going on about.

Shane had played silently, expressionless, and--worst of all--recklessly. He hadn't passed to his linemates as often as usual, and he didn't remember making a conscious decision to hug the puck. But he had, and Merrell had been forced to compensate by taking more risks himself, intercepting more passes, stealing the puck more often. On his other side, Xie had mostly kept up, but he didn't have the experience to really shine if his center paid him little mind.

They'd won, so Shane wouldn't beat himself up about it too much. He'd still been their top scorer during the playoff season, earning the highest number of unassisted goals in his career. His worst game of had been the third of the Stanley Cup series, when the Knights' D-lines had been on his ass the entire time. Merrell had scored a hat trick that game, with assists from Xie.

Why hadn't Theriault told him to cut it out? Shane had been playing like Dallas Kent.

Well, that was pushing it. Kent was the most overrated forward in the whole league; he didn't have the skills to play the puck-hugging asshole. Not like Shane did. If the Knights ever traded Troy Barrett, then Kent was fucked. No other elite forward would tolerate being left out to dry like that.

Maybe Merrell had more reasons to hate him than Shane acknowledged.

Well, it wasn't like he could get on a time machine and go back and slap himself. Shane looked over the quick notes he'd taken, nodding to himself. They really should train Xie and McAllister for the center more often. Babikov wasn't as fast as he needed to be, not when they had J.J. leaving the D-line so often. Carmichael had improved, if only because he'd finally accepted that the fourth line was supposed to be defensive.

The rooks showed obvious potential; Shane found himself hoping that Theriault wouldn't trade them. He probably wouldn't' the Voyageurs had lost three of their veteran players; the less said about Thompson the better, Heller (one of their D-man) to injury, and Beaty to early retirement. Shane supposed that left them in a very good position salary cap-wise, but even if Theriault got himself a couple of experienced free agents, they'd still need draft more than the usual three prospects.

This was the worst part of the year for Shane. He had no idea what his team would look like, leaving him unable to properly plan. All he could do was continue his off season bulk while encouraging his idiots to do the same via the team group chat. Which, as it did every summer, was slowly devolving into gossip, inane comments about pop culture, and pictures of pets and children.

Shane wondered if he should create yet another team group chat strictly for training purposes. He considered it during his morning light ten kilometer run and decided to give it a shot. Voyageurs Off Season Training. First message? Shane's stats for the run and a challenge for someone to beat him. A couple of the guys posted their workout for the day and when one of them started texting nonsense, Shane sent him off to the main group chat. Preferably the one where he wasn't included, thank you.

Good idea to have a group just for training, Hayden added. It's kinda boring to train by myself out here in Vancouver.

The only exercise I'm doing from now until the Awards is running around after my kid, Merrell interjected. Bros, we are on vacation.

Ugh, Merrell shouldn't be doing that. Even if he could get away with, the less skilled guys shouldn't fuck around.

Whatever, Shane messaged. Mute this chat until after the awards.

He wished Hayden and Jackie hadn't retreated to Vancouver after some unwashed true crime streamer asshole accosted Jackie at the supermarket with questions about fucking Thompson. It'd happened sometime after the Everglades fiasco--the troll shoved his phone at Jackie's face, while she'd been holding the newest Pike baby, and asked something stupid about the supposed Voyageur "rituals" that went on at her house.

To Hayden's credit, he'd held out longer than Shane would have before punching the guy in the face.

Anyway, there had been another few days of internet virality, some kind of lawsuit that probably wouldn't go anywhere because the streamer couldn't afford a lawyer, and many apologies from McAllister. And, after Jackie said she wanted some time away from the circus, Shane was left without his workout buddy. He understood, of course. Jackie had given birth a handful of weeks ago. It was a miracle she hadn't retreated to a space station on the moon.

Still, Shane found himself in Montreal without Wynn and Hayden--his actual inner circle, he was finding out.

At least it gave him complete control over his schedule. So more time for his internet deep dives. There were two things he'd yet to really look into: Svetlana Vetrova and the Hollanov hashtags. He figured Hollanov would be less stressful than Svetlana.

Less than ten minutes later, huddled in front of his tablet, Shane learned that his instincts had been very wrong.

Hollanov was the hashtag for hockey fans who were convinced that he and Rozanov were. . . fucking? In love?

Shane had of course seen all the compilations of their games, both Voyageurs-Bears matches and comparisons of their best plays against other teams. He had even saved a few of the compilations of Ilya smirking at the many, many questions he'd been asked about Shane over the years, mostly the ones from previous seasons were best since Ilya had been shirtless and sweaty for most of them.

What Shane hadn't noticed was that most of those compilations had been aggregated by fans who thought that he and Ilya were fucking. Or wanted to. Or were planning to. Within a few clicks, he'd found a website where fans photoshopped them into the covers of romance novels. Shane almost vomited at one of them because--for a horrified second--he'd thought it was real.

It was a photorealistic portrait of two men with builds similar to him and Ilya under a streetlight, about to kiss. The dark haired (and smaller) guy gripped the broad blond's lapel and looked up at him from under his eyelashes. Shane almost blacked out from panic before he noticed that the blond didn't have a mole and remembered that he he and Ilya were almost the same size. But it was easy to imagine that the building in the background was the back entrance to Shane's secret sex condo. Even though Shane had never considered meeting Ilya outside the secret sex condo. It made no sense. Shane just gave him the code for the door.

All right, he needed to pull himself together.

Shane shook his head like a dog and took a deep breath. Photoshop. He knew what that was.

He picked up the tablet, went to his bookmarks, and opened the folder with all the Lady Istar videos he'd saved to watch later. There was one about Hollanov.

"Ladies," started the video. This was old, filmed during Lady Istar's disastrous pink hair era (her words). "It's time for us to discuss proper fandom etiquette again, specifically regarding everyone's favorite cringe topic, RPF. Or 'real person fiction', for those of you who have been outside lately."

What? What the fuck? Shane paused the video and looked at that up.

Fifteen minutes later, he was not sure how he felt. He couldn't imagine caring about some random celebrity's love life, much less an athlete's. Even one as gorgeous as Ilya. And shouldn't these people be fantasizing about themselves being with him? Why the fuck bring Shane into it? Or Wynn? Or Merrell?

With a growing sense of dread, Shane clicked on the Merranov hashtag.

Shane would throw his tablet out the window before the evening was done. There was a lot of Merranov content, way more than Hollanov. Merrell had been a Bear for the entirety of Ilya's career prior to the trade, and they'd gotten along. To put it fucking mildly. There was compilation after compilation of them hugging after scoring off each others' assists, videos of Ilya getting into fights with D-men who'd checked Merrell from bad angles, clips of Merrell taking salt tablets and water to Ilya in the penalty box. . . the worst was a gif of them in the penalty box together, with Merrell dozing off on Ilya's shoulder.

Obviously, Shane had known they were teammates. He'd watched Ilya lift up the Stanley Cup, tears in his eyes, while the other Bears swarmed him. And he knew how touchy Ilya was with the Bears, had heard him chant 'I love you' to each of them after they filed off the ice. This Merranov thing, though? This was more than that.

Shane picked up his phone.

Ilya Rozanov

Shane Hollander
did you ever hook up with Merrell?

Ilya Rozanov
Jake?
are you drunk?

Shane Hollander
that's not a no

Ilya Rozanov
is this a weird sex game?

Shane Hollander
lots of people think you did

Ilya Rozanov
name one

Shane Hollander
the Merranov people

Ilya Rozanov
???????

Shane Hollander
have you heard of real person fiction?

Ilya Rozanov
googled Merranov hockey and this is best thing I've ever saw in my life
thank you

Shane Hollander
this isn't funny

Ilya Rozanov
do you think he knows about this?
brb I have to make phone call

Shane Hollander
no fuck you

Ilya Rozanov
he can't talk right now but I sent him link and he does know about it
he knows about Merranov
he wants to know who told me

Shane Hollander
if you bring me up I'll kill him, you, and then myself

Ilya Rozanov
relax
he didn't ask who told me
I told you he is busy

Shane Hollander
tell him you were bored and scrolling

Ilya Rozanov
big question is why *you* are learning of this now
some of these pictures should be in your stalker folder no?

Shane Hollander
there's only pictures of you in there

Ilya Rozanov
you are so fucking insane
I'm doing world a great service by drawing your attention

Shane Hollander
that's not what I meant
fuck you
I was being respectful of other people's privacy

Ilya Rozanov
please go back up and read this entire conversation while I google translate to Russian to make sure I'm not losing my mind

Shane Hollander
forget it
I'm blocking you

Ilya Rozanov
no kotik come back!
I am teasing
No
I never hooked up with Jake
he is very faithful to his wife

Shane Hollander
so if he wasn't you would?

Ilya Rozanov
Hollander are you trying to say you wouldn't?

Shane Hollander
what

Ilya Rozanov
ok
I suppose I have to be the first to tell you
actually this is conversation for other phones
Lily must offer Jane guidance again

Shane Hollander
do not use those names in this chat
it defeats the purpose dipshit

But Shane got leaned over his bedside and opened his second drawer, where he kept his assorted toys and The Phone. He was still considering what to do when the season started since he could hardly take The Phone with him. Probably get a new SIM card and a third line so Ilya could quietly dump Jane and get himself a third steady girl from a city that wasn't Montreal.

Lily (Boston)

Lily (Boston)
my Jane
please give me detailed list of why you hate Jake Merrell so much

Jane (Montreal)
I don't hate him he is not that important

Lily (Boston)
Jane

Jane (Montreal)
I don't!
I think he's smug, doesn't like me, and wants me to be nicer and less arrogant

Lily (Boston)
you don't think he has bright blue eyes just like your papa
and is very nice and firm and sweet to the rookies
strong enough to turn them over his knee and spank them if they misbehave

Jane (Montreal)
what is this
what the fuck are you insinuating

Lily (Boston)
that's a very good English word
but back to Jake
he is extremely very good at hockey
rankings say he is
look at that
third best forward in eastern conference, seventh best forward in the entire MLH

Jane (Montreal)
I know he's good at hockey
only redeemable quality he has

Lily (Boston)
yes of course
when did you learn of RPF
have you seen Merrander hashtag

Jane (Montreal)
the what
what
people are crazy

Lily (Boston)
are they?

Jane (Montreal)
yes!
this is clips of me and Merrell playing hockey
we're in the same line

Lily (Boston)
you mean like we were?

Jane (Montreal)
it's not the same
I'm not making eyes at him

Lily (Boston)
.link

Jane (Montreal)
I am *staring* at him because *he* was trying to make me feel guilty for
I don't remember what
but I was right

Lily (Boston)
.link

Jane (Montreal)
that was after the Sharks D-man checked me against the board
he thought I hit my head and was looking at my pupils
for signs of a concussion

Lily (Boston)
and did you?

Jane (Montreal)
did I what?

Lily (Boston)
did you have a concussion?

Jane (Montreal)
I want back to playing right after
no I did not have a concussion
he was overreacting like he usually does at every little hit

Lily (Boston)
then why did you freeze?

Jane (Montreal)
I did not

Lily (Boston)
look at video again
he grabbed your helmet to stabilize your head and you *melted*
I bet your mouth fell open and you made that whiny little noise
you know the one

Jane (Montreal)
no I fucking didn't
did he say that

Lily (Boston)
nah
Jake doesn't notice when *women* want him to fuck them
he has *no idea* Shane Hollander wants to suck his dick

Jane (Montreal)
stop it!!!
you're saying this to distract me

Lily (Boston)
imagine it
finally you say something to make him mad enough and he grabs your neck and wrestles you to your knees
in the showers
you are together in the showers and other voyageurs could come in any second
he sticks his thumb in your mouth to rub your tongue and squeezes your neck harder

Jane (Montreal)
stop that
you're a pervert

Lily (Boston)
tell me stop from the other phone

Shane put The Phone down. Glared at his other phone, laying innocently on the bed. His breath was coming in short gasps, angry and panicked. His dick was pulsing, but that happened whenever Lily went off about dirty scenarios. They'd never involved someone else--much less Merrell--oh, God.
Did Shane want to. . . do that? With men who weren't Ilya? With Merrel?

Lily (Boston)

Jane (Montreal)
he isn't stronger than me

Lily (Boston)
neither am I
not really

Jane (Montreal)
he's too soft

Lily (Boston)
.link
there
Jake Merrell best fights compilation
you haven't been bratty enough is all

Jane (Montreal)
why are you doing this?

Lily (Boston)
because you message me like psycho to accuse me of hooking up with your crush
can't even tell who you're jealous of I bet
tell me
are you hard

Jane (Montreal)
yes

Lily (Boston)
of course
take it out and take a picture
hurry up too
don't get soft looking for right angle

Jane (Montreal)
.png

Lily (Boston)
already wet I see
have you been touching while bitching at me
or just that easy?

Jane (Montreal)
fuck you
I wasn't touching

Lily (Boston)
you better not be
how many days until MLH awards?

Jane (Montreal)
fuck you
5 days

Lily (Boston)
not too long
do not touch yourself until MLH awards
pick hotel send me reservation

Jane (Montreal)
are you fucking serious
you think you can stop me?

Lily (Boston)
like it's any good for you without a dick for you to suck
and your other crush would never
might as well wait for me

Jane (Montreal)
you're crazy

Lily (Boston)
watch all Jake videos you want
there are plenty
lots of you making eyes at him
but no touching

Jane (Montreal)
what about
my dildo?

Lily (Boston)
you are so funny and so crazy
no touching
not your dick and definitely not your hole
5 days
be good

Jane (Montreal)
no fuck you

Shane watched the screen, waiting for the three little dots to appear under Lily's name. Waited. And waited. Nothing.

Chapter 3

Shane did not have a particularly demanding sex drive. He sort of doubted that most men did, really, they just liked to pretend it was acceptable to pick up another chick if their WAG got the flu and refused to fuck for three days. Not Shane. Whenever he got around to picking a wife, he would certainly not pant after her like some dog in heat. Did male dogs go into heat?

Anyway, Shane didn't even masturbate that much, especially not when he was focused on more important things. Like bulking, which was what he should be doing now. Instead, he was thinking about his dick. Wondering why the hell he was listening to Rozanov.

Ilya Rozanov

Shane Hollander
my parents are visiting tonight
for dinner

Ilya Rozanov
cool

Shane Hollander
so like
it's not like the best time for this

Ilya Rozanov
for what?

Shane Hollander
you know

Ilya Rozanov
no I don't
did you not notice the hollanov hashtag?
should I be jealous this one didn't make you spiral?

Shane Hollander
that's what I looked at first dumbass
my parents will be here in about an hour

Ilya Rozanov
so?
is there a reason you can't sit across your nice parents like a normal person and have your boring Canadian dinner?

Shane Hollander
it's not boring
my dad will cook his spaghetti and meatballs and then we'll play board games

Ilya Rozanov
wild night ahead
did you see the fiction fiction of the RPF
from these RPF chicks
there's so much

Shane Hollander
stop interacting with the RPF
I swear if you make any of it go viral I will kill you
Thompson will look sane by comparison

Ilya Rozanov
relax I consulted Xiaoyan
I will not disrupt this beautiful creative community

Shane Hollander
who the fuck is Xiaoyan

Ilya Rozanov
Jake's wife
you don't know this woman's name but you would steal her man if you could
interesting

Shane Hollander
fuck you
I don't feel that way about Merrell
it's just you saying weird shit

Ilya Rozanov
my favorite hollanov story is the one where I am a KGB agent, Hunter is dumb CIA agent, and you are Canadian mystery writer side piece

Shane Hollander
Hunter?
like *Scott* Hunter?

Ilya Rozanov
i would 100% steal you from Hunter
it would be easy
he would have a heart attack and die of shock at the first hint of your crazy
no need to even steal you

Shane Hollander
wtf are you talking about

Ilya Rozanov
.link

Shane was not going to click on that link. Before his parents arrived. He had to prepare. Mentally, if not physically. For all Shane knew, they were still operating under the assumption that he was using steroids. He was dealing with it; he understood it. He'd been aggressive and reckless last season. He would not do that next season, and his parents would calm down. Now that Shane had a plan of action, he wasn't too upset about it.

His parents arrived early, both looking more hesitant than usual, like they were bracing themselves for a fight. Shane bit back a sarcastic do you want to search the house for needles and offered to help them get started with dinner, which he was actually excited about. It was his cheat day. His carb loading day, rather. Like his nutritionist explained, it was not good practice to make moral judgments about food. It was fuel, and it was okay for it to taste good.

"Glad to see you going for seconds," said David, when they were eating.

"It's really good," said Shane, eyes flitting to the fresh vegetables. He had to eat some of those too. "Doing a light fifteen kilometer run tomorrow; last workout before flying out to Atlanta."

"Right," said David. Then, he looked at Yuna.

Shane tried not to roll his eyes.

"Son," David started.

"We really don't have to talk about it, please," said Shane.

"We do," said Yuna. "Honey, please. We wanted to apologize."

"It's okay," said Shane, raising a hand. "I've thought about it, and I started watching the playoffs. I can see where the question is coming from."

"We're not apologizing for asking you," said David.

"No?" asked Shane, startled. Then what the fuck were they apologizing for? "So you still think I'm cheating?"

"No!" said Yuna.

"Never mind," said Shane, taking a deep breath. He would prove to them next season that he wasn't on drugs. By going back to normal.

"We believe you," insisted Yuna, frowning and looking down at the table, "but we are worried, Shane. You seem really stressed and we understand if you feel like you can't come to us."

"You're getting older," said David, "so it's natural that you might want some independence."

"Okay, great," said Shane.

"But regardless of what's bothering you," said Yuna, "we want you to know that we love you. No matter what. If what's happening is that you're feeling too much pressure from m-us, regarding hockey, then please don't worry, honey."

"What do you mean regarding hockey?" said Shane.

"Son, we would love you, even if you quit," said David.

"Quit hockey?" They might as well suggest that he quit breathing air.

"Or if you would rather relax," said Yuna, eyes wet. "We would love and support you if you were an average player, or the worst player in the league."

"I see," said Shane. "You guys have been really worried about me, huh?"

"Of course," said Yuna.

"I'm sorry," said Shane, trying to infuse his voice with as much emotion as he could. "Really, I am. It was a hard season with. . . everything. I guess I went a little crazy. But I'm better now, I promise." Shane paused.

His parents looked at him with obvious hope in their eyes. Would it really be so wrong, to open up a little bit? They'd notice eventually, anyway, the moment he an Ilya hung out in public.

"I made a new friend," Shane announced.

"Really?" said Yuna.

"Yes," said Shane. "Ilya Rozanov."

"Ilya Rozanov," repeated David. "The hockey player?"

"Yes," said Shane, smiling. "When I visited Wynn in Boston. You remember Wynn, right? He got traded for Merrell."

"I remember," said Yuna.

"Right," said Shane. "It turns out, he's actually really cool and nice. He helped Wynn out a lot, and then he had that horrible accident, so I reached out to see how he was doing. And we're cool now."

"Ah, but what about your rivalry?" asked Yuna.

"That's on the ice," said Shane. "The league tried to make it personal, but we never had problems with each other. In fact, it's amazing to play against him. When the accident happened, I was really worried hockey would never be the same."

"You thought hockey would not be the same without Ilya Rozanov," said David.

"Yeah," said Shane, looking at Yuna for support. His dad didn't understand hockey like she did. But Yuna looked a little confused as well. "Mom, the Boston-Montreal games are the best of the season; every one knows. It's because of us."

"Right," said Yuna, after a moment. She looked at David and smiled, a little uncertainly. "Well, of course we're happy you made a new friend."

"Good," said Shane.

The evening went smoothly after that. David brought a new fantasy board game about a group of fairies trying to save their kingdom from an encroaching smog monster which took almost an hour just to set up. It was a little silly, but David was enamored with the art and Yuna determined to plunge the fields into mechanized chaos (she'd gotten stuck playing as the smog monster).

They ended up staying the night because Shane and Yuna never got around to discussing all his sponsorships. Apparently, he had some commercials to film after the MLH awards and before the season started. Shane was ready to call the evening a success.

Which might not last long since he had to check the team group chat. He'd watched notification after notification light up his screen during the game, but he'd refused to check what nonsense they'd gotten into. No work during board game night, at least not during the board game part. It was one of David's few hardline rules.

Voyageurs

Patrice Drapeau
league going viral again bros

Gilbert Comeau
wtf did the dumbass rookies do now?

Dylan Xie
not us this time!

Jeremy McAllister
yep not us
nothing to do with us
it's not even our team this time

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
good because Melissa was getting ready to eject all four of you into outer space

Greg Cornick
so what's happening?

Patrice Drapeau
so you know Ian Gleason
captain of Buffalo Wolves?

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
oh I see
bro got caught cheating on his wife
with his sister-in-law/wife's sister

Jonas Raphael Carmichael III
is anyone dead or at least in jail?
otherwise I don't see how this competes with our PR shitshows

David Taylor
the wife is one of the real housewives of Beverly Hills
you know from Hollywood

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
i thought they were in Buffalo

Patrice Drapeau
no he plays for the wolves
the wife lives in Hollywood
she's trying to be an actress

Hayden Pike
how do you know that?

Patrice Drapeau
I see and know everything

Greg Cornick
oh yeah?
did you see and know Dylan's gay?

Dylan Xie
bisexual and does it always have to come to that?
I thought we were over this

Patrice Drapeau
I saw that
but so did everyone else
Mrs. Gleason discovered the betrayal during some red carpet event and got into a cat fight with the sister
who is also an actress
there are videos
.link

David Taylor
these women are not hot enough to be actresses
also they are very tacky

Gilbert Comeau
agreed
this isn't wife material or even girlfriend material
this is chick you pick up at 3 AM because you struck out with all the top tier chicks material

Nikolai Babikov
that's not very nice
hey I know this lady

Patrice Drapeau
what?
from where?

Nikolai Babikov
I don't remember
just her face seems familiar somehow

Aubrey Williams
she has that plastic face going on
from social media chicks
I think they're all going to the same plastic surgeon
and the bro fucks up sometimes and we're being infested with some busted looking chicks

Hayden Pike
guys are we being a little gross?

Gilbert Comeau
what do you mean?
these women are not WAG material
what was Gleason thinking?

Jake Merrell
I agree with Comeau

Gilbert Comeau
see!!
even Jake agrees

Jake Merrell
cautiously and with many reservations
it's not about their looks
this behavior is not acceptable

Shane Hollander
somebody summarize what's happening
assuming it's something I would care about

Patrice Drapeau
our liege arrives
Ian Gleason's wife and sister-in-law/side piece had a cat fight at a red carpet event

Shane Hollander
ok so nothing to do with us

Patrice Drapeau
well
Mrs. Gleason is threatening to reveal certain things about her husband's proclivities

Nikolai Babikov
her what?

Gilbert Comeau
and Merrell agrees with me about how trashy they are

Jake Merrell
that's not exactly what I said
I was just saying the person you choose as a spouse, or just an official partner, should be someone you can be proud of
someone who makes you want to be the best version of yourself
not someone who would start yelling and spitting at their own sister in a public venue

Shane Hollander
again this has nothing to do with us
everyone get ready for Atlanta
we are the champions this year
remember that

Shane had never been so excited to arrive at any airport in his life. Maybe it was because he hadn't touched himself since Ilya gave his stupid order. He could have, of course, but something about the game made him. . . he didn't know. Made him more grounded? He'd been so productive since, desperate for anything to distract him from the ever present temptation his own dick posed. He'd beat his best time for a fifteen-K, kept all his macros in perfect harmony, and completed analysis of multiple hockey games. Wynn had been impressed with his insights.

Now, he was ready for his reward.

It was not fair the Atlanta had one of the biggest airports in the world and that the TSA was crazy and inefficient. But making a scene would only cause further delays, which Shane wished the guy in front of him understood. He didn't even enjoy it when the police were called because they were also stupid assholes.

An interminable hour and a half later, he was finally pulling up to the hotel. He could barely be bothered to be concerned with being recognized. Atlanta didn't even have a hockey team so he doubted there were many fans around. And if he was recognized, then he had a reason to be in Atlanta. Fuck it. Ilya was already in the room.

"Thought about shaving my head," he murmured when Shane finally made it to him. "To look more like your crush."

Shane rolled his eyes and rushed to him, mouth already watering. He didn't know where to touch first, what part of him to kiss.

"Have you been good, kotik?"

Shane nodded, beginning to fall to his knees. He pulled at Ilya's sweatpants, spared a second to kiss the scar on his thigh, then nuzzled his crotch, sucking in the scent of him. Above him, Ilya babbled something in Russian. Shane mouthed at him through the cloth of his underwear. Cursing, Ilya snaked his fingers through Shane's hair and pulled him to his feet.

"You haven't earned that yet."

"Fuck you," said Shane. But he let himself be pushed onto the bed.

They took off their clothes as fast as they could, Shane struggling because he didn't want to miss a second of watching Ilya undress.

"You didn't fold your clothes," said Ilya.

"Wha. . ." Shane startled and squirmed, then began to straighten up. He hadn't! Fuck, his brain was leaking out of his ears.

Ilya pushed him back on the bed. "Shh, let me look at you." He passed his fingers over Shane's lips, but took them away when Shane tried to suck them into his mouth. His every touch was feather light, teasing, and Shane bit his lips. Ilya would have to try harder if he wanted Shane to beg.

The touches didn't get any firmer as they traveled down Shane's body. Ilya smirked down at him the entire time and Shane felt his face growing hotter with every passing second. He almost broke when Ilya's fingers bypassed his wet cock entirely, instead nudging his legs apart and caressing his inner thighs.

"I never had time to enjoy these properly," said Ilya.

"What?"

By way of response, Ilya reached for the lube and squirted a generous amount onto his hand. Shane squirmed, turned around eagerly, heart pounding. They could do it like that first, if that was what Ilya wanted. But Ilya smeared the lube along Shane's inner thighs, ignoring his hole altogether.

"What are you doing?" snapped Shane.

Ilya fell over Shane's back. "Squeeze your thighs together."

"What?"

"Be good, kotik," said Ilya. "Don't you want to be good, after so many months of acting the bitch?"

"F-fuck you." But Shane squeezed his thighs together. He could do it. Just a little more. At least Ilya was touching him.

It was torture, to feel Ilya's hard cock between his thighs, rubbing between his cheeks and behind his balls, while clenching around nothing. Instinctively, he wanted to spread his legs, but Ilya tsk at him and told him to be good every time, until Shane was teary, cock painfully stiff, sensitive and under stimulated at the same time.

"Ilya, please," he begged. "Please fuck me."

"I am fucking you."

"No, no! You know how, please. Please."

"Oh?" Ilya paused, prompting Shane to freeze. He stood still as a rock as Ilya ran his lube-wet fingers over his hole. "You want it here?"

Shane nodded frantically.

"You haven't earned it here--no, you haven't," said Ilya. "Keep your thighs pressed together, and if you're really good, maybe I let you hump my leg after. Okay?"

Shane sniffled. "Okay."

"Good boy," said Ilya. He kissed Shane's shoulder, and Shane began to settle. "Tomorrow, after boring awards, we will come back here and I will indulge you. But only if you're nice and polite all night."

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

I think I will accomplish this and get this thing posted before my trip, meaning I will have a 24 mile hike this weekend where I can plan the next fic lol

Notes at end of chapter.

Shane winning the Stanley Cup and the Exemplary Captain Award was as much of a triumph for Yuna as it was for him. Perhaps more. She had been the one who saw Shane's talent and believed in him enough to fight tooth and nail for him, back when all coaches found him too odd, soft, and too Asian to play hockey at a professional level. Beyond that, she managed to convince David that it made sense for them to leave Shane immersed in such a toxic culture.

It was only right that she would be Shane's plus one at the awards. A part of Shane was a little embarrassed not to be bringing a beautiful woman--well, Yuna was beautiful, but she was his mom. He would not let her see a hint of shame on him, though. Her obvious joy did make him happy.

"Honey, how do I look?" she said.

"Great," Shane said, with a glance her way. As far as he could tell, the blue dress she'd put on was very elegant.

"You look amazing too," she told him, rubbing his cheek and grinning.

"Of course," said Shane. Tuxedos were easy; men's fashion in general was easy. Shane shuddered to think about all the effort he would have to put into his outfits if he was a woman.

They were due to meet with the Voyageurs before heading to the main hall. Not all had shown up, thank God, but more than usual. Since they'd won they cup, the team expected quite a few trophies: MVP of the Eastern Conference, Best Defenseman, Best Goaltender, and maybe Rookie of the Year. Theriault was beside himself with happiness.

Shane was relieved to note that Drapeau showed up alone, so he wasn't the only one who hadn't brought a beautiful woman he wasn't related to.

"Mrs. Hollander," he said, when they ran into him in front of the elevator, smiling and kissing her hand lightly. "You look amazing, as always."

"Thank you, honey," Yuna said, while Shane tried to figure out if that was too much. "You look dashing as well."

"Shane," he nodded, bumping Shane's elbow.

"Hi," said Shane.

He did look good, his tuxedo fit to accentuate his broad shoulders and his light blond hair slicked back.

Everyone looked great, including--much to Shane's horror--Merrell. It was only a tuxedo and Merrell was actually a little too skinny for Shane's taste, but he caught himself watching as the man smiled down at a petite Asian woman in a stunning red dress. His wife, of course. Shane had even met her, but he tended to have a little face blindness. J.J. had piled his locks into a loose bun at the top of his head and secured them with some golden clips that looked really cool. His sharp jawline looked more defined than ever.

"Did you see that SportBet about you too?" asked Drapeau, gesturing at Merrell. Yuna had decided to mingle and was currently chatting with Xie and his sister, who were quickly joined by J.J. and none other than Cassandra.

"What?" said Shane.

"Hey, Jake!" Drapeau called, gesturing him closer. "Did you see the SportBet about you and Cap here?"

"No," said Merrell.

"There's furious betting online about whether you too are gonna have a fist fight tonight," said Drapeu.

Beside Merrell, his wife rolled her eyes.

"Sorry," mumbled Shane. He was supposed to be acting nice.

"Why?" said Merrell, amused. "Did you start the bet?"

"No," said Shane. "I just meant. . . it's kind of annoying."

"Boys, it's alright," said his wife. "I propose we don't let crazy internet people ruin the night for us."

"Great idea," said Shane. "Come on, I see Theriault's finally arrived."

Accompanied by Melissa, of all people. Shane was a little surprised to see her, as well as a little reassured. Should anything go wrong PR wise, she would be great to have around. Not that anything would. Their team was here to celebrate their success. There was nothing to be concerned about. It wouldn't be hard to be proper and polite all evening, then disappear to have a real celebration with Ilya.

Yuna would be staying for a few days as well, but she was as much of a workaholic as Shane was. She had work to do for her other clients at the hotel, so Shane would have plenty of time before he had be at the set where he'd film his next commercial. Or maybe it was a photoshoot. He didn't even know what brand it was; Yuna handled those details. The important thing was that, for the first time ever, he and Ilya would have more than a full day to themselves.

They hadn't had that much even in Boston. Not only had Svetlana been around, but Wynn had taken Shane's bullshit about wanting to "get to know" Boston seriously and planned an outing for them daily. A part of Shane had actually felt a little guilty since he knew how much Wynn hated to alter his routine, but what could he have said? You don't have to pay this much attention to me; I'm actually only here to suck your captain's dick for as long as he'll let me?

After Theriault gave a little speech that Shane mostly tuned out, they headed to the main hall. Luckily, they were assigned to tables close to each other, so Shane wouldn't have to deal with too many annoying introductions. Almost none. Troy Barrett sat next to Shane, and he hadn't brought a plus one at all. Strange, considering he was probably one of the best looking men in the league, with piercing blue eyes, plush lips, and a full head of gently waved dark hair. Maybe the women of Toronto could sense Kent's poisonous aura wafting off him.

The other guests sitting at their table were Julius Wagner and his wife, and--Shane did a double take. Ilya!

Shane felt a small smile blooming on his face when they made eye contact. Ilya put on his most satisfied half smirk and nodded at him. He was so unfairly handsome, more so now that he had a small scar on his right temple. It was like he'd wondered out of a spy movie.

"Mrs. Hollander," he murmured.

"Mr. Rozanov," said Yuna, offering her hand. "I'm so glad to see you up and walking after your horrible accident. I hope you're doing well."

"Yes, I am good now," said Ilya, kissing the top of her gloved hand. "And your son was so kind to visit me in Boston."

"Did he?" said Yuna.

"Yeah," said Shane, certain that he was blushing. "I told you; when I went to hang out with Wynn. I stopped by his place."

"Ah, so you guys are friends now," said Julius Wagner. "I guess the rivalry's dead with Rozanov having to sit out half a season."

"No," said Shane. "I mean, mentally, I won't count my playoff goals."

"You will need them, Hollander--oh!" Ilya looked to the next table, where Xie and Babikov were seated with Jamie Wagner and Scott Hunter. "Excuse me; I just saw someone."

Shane watched as he walked over and tapped Xie's sister's shoulder. She grinned broadly when she spotted him, standing up to envelop his large frame in a hug.

"Dr. Xie," Ilya greeting, squeezing her and lifting her off her feet for a second. "My favorite doctor!"

"My favorite vascular patient," she said, stepping back to look him up and down. "Look how handsome you are. Is your girlfriend here?"

"She's back at Moscow for now," said Ilya.

Shane's stomach sank. Which it shouldn't. Svetlana was Ilya's girlfriend; he'd never lied about that and Shane had never expected him to.

"You're Rozanov's buddy, now?" J.J. leaned closed to him to ask.

"Kind of," shrugged Shane, proud of all the practice that he'd put into this scenario. His teammates would ask this. "Bears and Voyageurs are hanging out now, so it makes sense, right?"

J.J. paused, but nodded quickly enough. "Fair. Bears do know how to party."

The evening went on, almost exactly as Shane had expected. They served some subpar steaks and soggy vegetables while bigwigs from the league got up for repetitive speeches about how great the season had been. Crowell thanked all the players and their families and overall talked like the MLH was curing cancer and brokering world peace. Others talked about how much the league was growing in popularity, and all the great charity and community outreach they were doing. New MLH teams were announced for Atlanta--guess that was why they'd picked the city for the awards--and Newfoundland.

Potentially good, if they managed to get decent players.

Finally, the awards started. Rookie of the Year first and. . . Nikolai Babikov. Shane clapped, a little surprised and a little relieved. Crowell-Wagner beef or no, no one could claim that Babikov hadn't played an excellent season of hockey, and it wasn't straightforward to claim that Jamie Wagner was objectively the better player. He grinned at J.J., then glanced to the other table and noted how relieved Xie looked.

Babikov's speech was short and sweet, and even a little funny, since he was huge, had decided to trim his playoffs beard rather than shave it altogether, but still sounded very much like a kid. He thanked his teammates, his coach, and J.J. for helping him improve all season and Melissa for helping him practice his speech. Then, at the very end, he mentioned the Everglades and apologized to Melissa for mentioning the Everglades. Shane chuckles and honestly wondered if that had been prepared. He didn't know where she was seated, so he couldn't check for her reaction.

"He's too cool for the Voyageurs," said Rozanov.

Shane smirked at him, then grinned.

There was another speech by one of the head coaches from the women's league announcing their teams were getting their salary caps raised, so it seemed like Mrs. Wagner had gotten her way. Good for them. Shane didn't pay attention to women's hockey, but wished them well.

The Sportsmanship Trophy was quick since it didn't include the usual montage. For obvious reasons, the videos of the accident couldn't be used. The league had not gone to take any footage of Ilya at the hospital after since everything had been up in the air. For a few days, the entire world had been convinced that he'd been the one to cause the accident in the first place.

"I'm really thankful for this award," Ilya said at the podium. "It's not one anyone expected I would get; life is strange, isn't it? I dedicate it to my Mama, who would have been proud of me for trying to help the others in the accident."

Shane thought that the woman probably would have been angry that her son hadn't thought to help himself, but Ilya had not reacted well when he'd tried to say that.

"And also," Ilya continued, "please don't drive under the influence. Designated drivers are very important for this reason."

Best Defenseman went to J.J. Shane got up to clap his shoulder, then accepted a bear hug, and watched as his friend went up to the podium. He thanked his family, Theriault, then Shane and rest of the Voyageurs' forwards for controlling the puck for most of their games during the season. Finally, he thanked Babikov for being so good that he could play so flexibly.

Shane, for reasons he couldn't understand, started feeling like people were looking at him. And whispering. About what, he didn't have the faintest idea. He noticed that lots of people were fixated on their phones all of a sudden. Shane would check his own, but Yuna had taught him that it was disrespectful to do that while his coworkers were trying to speak.

Besides, everyone else seemed mostly oblivious.

The MVP trophies were next. Julius Wagner got it for the western conference and Merrell for the eastern conference, more or less as expected. Merrell's speech was short and sweet, with no mention of how he'd gotten the trophy twice in a row--a record for the MLH.

"And by the way," he added at the end, "I don't know who might find this information useful, but Hollander and I are not fist fighting. Not tonight, and not ever. We get along. I always appreciate Shane's insights."

Okay, fine. That was pretty funny. Shane glanced at his mom, who blushed at being caught laughing. Then at Ilya, who smirked at him. Soon, they would hand out the Best Goaltender and Exemplary Captain Awards, and it wouldn't be too long until Yuna was satisfied with how much mingling they'd done.

By the time J.J. got back to their table, though, it was obvious something was really wrong. Even J.J. noticed. When he sat down, he looked around, then turned to Shane. "Why is everyone looking at us?" he asked.

"Oh my God," Julius Wagner's wife said, before Shane could answer. Her gaze was fixated on her phone screen. Then, she looked up at Shane. And J.J.

Next to Shane, Yuna broke her own rule and reached for her phone. She frowned, then showed Shane.

Suzannah Gleason Reveals Husband's Ian Gleason Cuckold Fetish and Leaks Dozens of Sex Tapes.

"Oh, shit," said J.J. He coughed. "Pardon me, Mrs. Hollander."

"But what does this have to do with us?" asked Shane.

J.J. shrugged. "No idea."

"Uh, there are leaked messages," said Ilya. "You can name search yourselves after the awards."

Someone tapped Shane's shoulder and Shane whirled around to find Drapeau. "Cap," he said. "Melissa's probably gonna want to talk to us."

Voyageurs

David Taylor
revenge porn scandal again
this lady fucked like half the superstars in the MLH
some third rate dudes too

Greg Cornick
doesn't that means she's cheating?

Jake Merrell
no an actual cuck fetish they did together
like he actually likes to watch other men fuck his wife

Greg Cornick
what the fuck

Shane Hollander
I still don't get how we're involved
wait
which one of you assholes?

Patrice Drapeau
well

Aubrey Williams
dude!!!!

Patrice Drapeau
remember last season?
when the Wolves beat us

Shane Hollander
when Gleason got a hat trick off you?

Patrice Drapeau
yes Shane
*I* was the only one who fucked up that game
but anyway
lady Gleason approached me

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
holy shit Patrick
are we about to see you in this amateur Gleason porn?

Patrice Drapeau
don't fucking call me Patrick
and no
getting photographed or taped fucking does not appeal to me
but I name searched myself and I am mentioned in some of the chats

Shane Hollander
ok roll call
who else in this team fucked Mrs. Gleason?

Hayden Pike
name searching us right now bros
what fuck @Nikolai_Babikov?

Nikolai Babikov
what?

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
oh my god
these pervs defiled our Nikki

Nikolai Babikov
what? who?

Jake Merrell
wait the leaked chat says Nik turned them down
something about One Piece?

Dylan Xie
Nik! you didn't tell me you got hit on by Ian Gleason's wife!!!!!

Nikolai Babikov
what?
oh is that what that was about?
this lady invited me to watch a movie in their room but I told them I was going to watch One Piece with Dylan and Jeremy and Jonas

Shane Hollander
ok looks like they're just sexting each other about random players

Gilbert Comeau
lmao Rozanov turned them down

Aubrey Williams
I'm a little offended that I wasn't invited

Shane Hollander
again
did anyone shoot a sex type with this couple?
go an answer Melissa's email about this
you don't have to answer here if you don't want to

Hayden Pike
uh JJ and Shane
don't name search yourselves

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
what kind of gutter racism did they vomit all over the place
I mean I can guess

Shane Hollander
JJ tell me you did not fuck these people

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
first of all fuck you
second of all I would not lend myself for these klanners' slave buck fetish

Nikolai Babikov
looks like they were planning a gangbang
wait is it a gangbang with only two guys? isn't that just a threesome

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
Nikki this shit is not meant for your age group
we should send these psychos to jail for trying to pick you up

Gilbert Comeau
calm down
he was 18

Jonas Raphael Carmichael III
ok so we're going viral and it's not fair because this one is not on us

Nikolai Babikov
so the plan was for Shane to fuck mrs. gleason first to open her up
and then JJ
but how do they know who has the bigger dick?

Gilbert Comeau
they got it wrong

Patrice Drapeau
lmao this Shane-JJ thing is so gross no one's talking about me at all

Jean-Jacques Boiziau
get fucked Comeau

Gilbert Comeau
what?
we've all been in the communal showers and seen Shane's dick
Shane do you not bother pulling because girls change their minds when they see it?

Shane Hollander
I swear to God if any of you assholes post anything about my dick
even as a joke

Hayden Pike
Mitch Denk just posted that Shane's dick is bigger than JJ's
and some other dudes who got traded are confirming

Jake Merrell
almost 3 weeks without PR shitstorm
it was a good run

Shane Hollander
everybody just standby and wait for Melissa's plan of action
Jonas is right
this time it's not our fault

Chapter End Notes

The group chat this chapter includes very low tier racism towards Black and Asian men. Like about their dick sizes. Objectification, fetishism, and racism here. Neither JJ nor Shane think this is funny.

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

I finished it! Honestly, this is probably super rushed, but at least it didn't bloat to 35k words with 5 subplots while I was "editing" lol. I enjoyed the self imposed challenge.

I have been reading the comments, but since I've been writing on my free time, I haven't been responding. I plan to do it this weekend because I am delusional. I will be traveling so idk how much time I'll respond to everyone thoughtfully. I will be responding eventually though.

One commenter did mention typos, so I will say here that I don't mind if someone points out my typos. I try to go and clean up the most obvious ones when I catch them, but the more eyes the better.

Thanks to everyone for following along!

Melissa Baudu didn't really know much about ice hockey; certainly no more than the average Canadian. She took on the job of Lead Public Relations Specialist for the Voyageurs anyway. Public relations was not about reality, but about perception. If she had her way--and she rarely didn't--then the Voyageurs would be synonymous with hockey by the end of her tenure. Not just in Canada, but in all of North America. In the whole world.

She didn't need the team to actually be good, though it certainly helped that they seemed to be. It was secondary to her plans, though. What Melissa needed, above all, was compelling characters to sell to the public. Her first season with the team had been. . . tumultuous, but she was internally calling it a success.

The murder-suicide in the middle of the season had been her biggest challenge, but now that the storm was mostly weathered, at least from a PR perspective, Melissa was almost glad for it. Nothing that the boys got themselves into after the murder-suicide would be as horrendous. The floor had not only been met, it had been demolished. And a subterranean dungeon had been built under it. What was a little cuckold fetish amateur porn compared to that? Even with the racial aspect?

"Nikolai," said Melissa, making sure to keep her tone gentle. "Nikki?"

The boy--and he was a boy, though he'd somehow hit another growth spurt and now stood at an impressive 200 cm of height--couldn't quite meet her eyes. He squirmed on the couch and hunched even further into himself. It didn't make him seem any smaller. "Am I in trouble again?" he mumbled.

"No," said Melissa.

He sighed heavily. "I'm really sorry about bringing up the Everglades during my acceptance speech. I wasn't joking about that; it's just. . ." He swallowed. "I didn't think the Rookie of the Year thing was a big deal, but when I got up there and everyone was looking at me, it got weird. I started thinking I needed to be more like Dylan, but I can't be as smart as him, so I might as well be funny, and next thing you know--Everglades."

"Nikolai, the Everglades comment is not why I asked to see you," said Melissa. It had pissed her off, but now they had bigger problems. "You're not in trouble. I called you because I want to hear more about your. . . experience with the Gleasons."

"Oh." The boy chuckled, then straightened up. "I'm sorry. The guys say it's not funny. Somehow."

"I want to confirm that you didn't have relations with Mrs. Gleason," said Melissa. "I don't blame you if you did, but if you did, we will need to prepare for questions from the press." They'd have to prepare anyway, but she needed him focused.

"I didn't; I promise." Nikolai leaned forward. "It's like the leaked chat logs said--the lady came up to me and asked me to go to her room to 'watch a movie'; I don't remember. But no way I bought that. Girls don't come up to me like that. Girls don't come up to any guy like that. You know what I mean, right? You were a girl."

"I was," agreed Melissa, reminding herself that she preferred it if these men never thought of her in a sexual or romantic light. "But, just to make sure we're on the same page, can you tell me what you mean?"

"If a girl comes up to you and invites you to her room out of nowhere, there are very few explanations," said Nikolai, lifting his hand. "One: she's working, if you catch my drift. Two: she's playing a prank on you. Three: her boyfriend and two of his bros are waiting to jump you to steal your wallet."

Melissa smiled and nodded. She had guessed that this boy wasn't as stupid as he pretended to be.

"The guys can make fun of me all they want," said Nikolai. "I was right to go and watch One Piece."

"That wasn't an excuse?" said Melissa.

"I mean, yeah," said Nikolai. "But it was true too. Jeremy and I are trying to turn Dylan and Joe normal. Dylan never watched any anime because he was studying for Harvard all the time, and Jonas was raised in some kind of rich family cult. We wanted to start with Dragon Ball Z--"

"Nikki, I don't mean to interrupt," said Melissa. "But I have a busy day ahead of me. Is it okay if we move on from One Piece?"

"Yeah, sorry." He looked at her, by now relaxed.

Melissa was glad to have cultivated a friendly relationship with the younger players, especially this one. He was attached at the hip to Boiziau, who was one of Hollander's friends, and clearly starved for positive attention. Most importantly, he never withheld information from people he trusted despite having a bit of a resentful streak to him.

"How is the team handling this?" asked Melissa. "I want to know how to best help them."

"Not the best," admitted Nikolai. "J.J. and Shane are really mad at Patrice even though he swears he didn't know about all this weird dick size stuff when he agreed to. . . you know. And Patrice is mad about the tape because he says he didn't agree to a tape."

"It's understandable that they're upset," said Melissa. She wasn't even lying. If not for the Thompson fiasco, this would be the worst thing anyone could imagine hitting this team. Any team.

"So Patrice said they can go and watch the sex tape if they want so they can see he never mentioned either of them during--it," said Nikolai.

Good God. Melissa already had her staff watching the godawful pornography, but they weren't emotionally invested in this.

"Shane and J.J. both said no and got even more pissed off," said Nikolai, "so Comeau volunteered to watch the Patrice sex tape."

Melissa felt a headache coming on.

"And then he came back and confirmed Patrice never mentioned Shane or J.J., or any other weird dick racial stuff," continued Nikolai. "I think it worked. The guys don't seem as angry. Everyone's just kind of embarrassed."

"And has there been any violence?"

"I don't think so," said Nikolai. "Hayden reminded everyone we killed it last night. We got basically all the trophies in the Eastern Conference and Shane managed to get up there and give his little speech with a straight face even though he knew for sure everyone was thinking about his dick."

Yes, the media training that boy had gotten really paid off.

"And then Jake said we should try to relax and enjoy the city, and now I'm here."

"Thank you, Nikolai. You've been very helpful."

She dispatched the boy off with strict orders not to post on social media. With any luck, he would distract the rest of the rookies, at least. It was a relief that he wasn't in those sex tapes. Honestly, what the hell had Suzannah Gleason been thinking? What woman wanted it to be public knowledge that she'd failed to pick up a teenage boy because he'd opted to watch cartoons with his friends instead?

Melissa shrugged and took a few deep breaths. It seemed that Hollander, Boiziau, and Drapeau had reached some kind of equilibrium. Thank God. Pike was still in Vancouver and Merrell insisted that he was on vacation whenever anyone tried to fetch him to deal with the team. Now, all Melissa needed to manage was Henry Theriault. The wretched old prune.

She headed to his room, doing breathing exercises the entire time. If God was her witness, she'd see that man replaced by a more competent coach within three years. At most. He was parked by the window of his corner suite, looking down at the Atlanta skyline with a sour look on his face. He stroked his bushy white mustache and grimaced when she knocked on his door.

"It was supposed to be my night," he told Melissa, sadly. "Twenty-five years of blood and sweat, a broken marriage, kids who hate me. . . but I finally brought the Stanley Cup back to Montreal."

"It was a great accomplishment," said Melissa, choosing not to mention that Voyageurs had brought the Cup back.

"I'm not an unreasonable man, Melissa," he went on, without turning to look at her. "I know these are young, entitled, energetic men, so I have strategies for when they fuck each other's WAGs."

"I do hear it's quite common."

"But I got nothing for when they fuck each other," said Theriault. "I am trying, you know. To be. . . modern. I have the most minorities in my team."

"Very wise of you, sir."

"And they're good; I can recognize that," said Theriault. "Hollander is the best forward in the league and he played the best hockey of his life this season. Honestly, I almost hope there's a murder-suicide every season, if it will make him play like that."

"Sir, please don't say that in public," said Melissa.

"Of course not," snapped the old bastard. "As for Xie, yes, the queer thing is unfortunate, but he's already so good with the least training of anyone in the league. Boiziau had never given me any problems and. . ."

Melissa waited for him to realize that those three player were the only "minorities" in his team. Arguably, there was also Jeremy, but Theriault had chosen to forget about the not-boyfriend back in Texas.

"Sir, have you had a chance to consider the list of players I think should not be traded?" she asked, eventually.

"Don't worry," said Theriault. "I'm not trading my first liners or my two best D-men. Boiziau and Babikov," he added, because he thought Melissa was so stupid she didn't know who his top ranked players were. "Pike is reliable and helps regulate Hollander. McAllister pissed me off with his little Everglades memorial, but I'm the one who shaped him into the forward he is. I will not be passing him off while I still have one year on his rookie contract. Next year, I'll re-evaluate him."

He paused for breath. Melissa let out a hum that could be interpreted as agreement.

"As for Carmichael," Theriault continued, sighing. "There's no worthwhile trade to be made with him anyway. Besides, he is improving steadily. Maybe he will surprise me this upcoming season."

"Excellent, sir," said Melissa. "I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on this. And if I might ask, you are looking for a new assistant coach, correct?"

"Yes," said Theriault, finally turning to look at her. "But what do you know about coaching."

"Not much, sir," said Melissa. "But I do know a thing or two about character, and there is someone I would like to recommend."

By the time Shane made it to the hotel room he'd booked for his hook ups with Ilya, he was oozing need. What a clusterfuck of an evening. All he'd ever wanted--the Cup, the EC award, his team sweeping almost all other categories--and he'd never been more self-conscious in his life. Fuck Gleason and his wife. Or rather, don't fuck them, Patrice.

Mercifully, Ilya didn't play any more games when Shane arrived. He let himself be pulled into a frantic kiss, then pushed Shane towards the bed and went for the lube. Shane wept with desperate relief as Ilya quickly slicked him up and fucked him, silent and methodical. Then, he cleaned himself up and let Shane settle between his legs to kiss the scar on his thigh and nuzzle his groin.

Once enough time had passed, Ilya let Shane ride him, teary eyed and gasping.

"Look at you," he murmured, grasping Shane's thighs to force him to bounce at a slower pace. "Look at your cock, malysh. So big, but so useless."

Shane heard a sob coming from somewhere inside himself. He shuddered when Ilya wrapped a hand around his dick.

"They don't know you don't care about this at all," said Ilya, rubbing at the wet head. "All you do is beg to be fucked; this might as well be a big clit for me to play with."

"Shut up," Shane gasped, unable to keep himself from speeding up.

"So easy; my Jane," Ilya sing-songed. "My favorite girl."

And Shane came, just like that, startling himself. The mess painted Ilya's abs and his blue eyes widened. "Shane?"

"Go on," Shane managed, pulling at his hair. "Keep going; need more."

Ilya rolled them over and went on fucking him. It hurt, but Shane didn't care, though he couldn't stop himself from crying. He hoped Ilya turned his brain to mush.

Afterwards, maybe hours afterwards, for all Shane knew, he came back to himself enough to trace random patterns on Ilya's body. As he'd been wanting to do for a while, he cataloged the many moles on his chest and abs, kissing the ones he could reach. He mouthed at the bear tattoo, then shifted until he was lying on top of Ilya. Soon enough, he was tracing the thin scar on his temple.

"Better?" asked Ilya.

"Hm," said Shane, nuzzling his neck.

"Ready to joke about it now?"

"'Sss not funny," said Shane.

"It's only the funniest thing ever," said Ilya.

Shane frowned and lifted his head long enough to frown at him. "The night was ruined. J.J. is furious, my mother is mortified--did you forget I had to look my mother in the eye after that shitshow?"

"She is not proud her son has a big dick?"

Shane growled and squeezed his thighs around Ilya's waist, which only made him laugh harder and pull him down for more kisses. They were a little gross, but Shane would be lying if he said he wouldn't go for another round. They could always shower afterwards.

But Ilya's phone started vibrating and when he peered at the Russian on the screen, he signaled for Shane to get off him. Shane complied, a little confused. Who could be so important?
Ilya answered in Russian as he got up from the bed. The room was small, so he only go as far as the window for a rapid conversation. Shane couldn't help but listen, searching for any words he might recognize. He heard Boston and maybe 'Moscow', but he couldn't be sure. Fuck, he needed to learn Russian.

Within a couple of minutes, Ilya hung up and looked at him. "Sorry, kotik. We have to cut our plans short."

No, Shane almost wailed out loud. They'd planned for three days after the awards. Three. That was how long until Shane's next stupid commercial. "Something wrong?" he managed to ask.

"No," said Ilya. Then, he frowned. "Maybe. Sveta needs me to check on something."

"I thought she was in Moscow," said Shane.

"She is," said Ilya, already reaching for his clothes. "But a friend of hers in Boston. . . It doesn't matter. She needs me back there. Lucky there is a flight in a couple of hours."

Shane looked at his hands, remembering what Lady Istar had said. The gist of it. Svetlana could snap her fingers, and Ilya would go to her. No questions asked.

"So you do everything she says?" Shane couldn't stop himself from asking.

Ilya stopped, but only for a second. "Mostly, yes."

"You're not even going to shower?"

"Hollander, I cleaned us up while you were out of it," said Ilya, sighing. "Don't be pouting, now. I did you really well, didn't I? And we're still on vacation, so you can stay and check Atlanta's clubs. Lots of pretty people here if you still need more."

Shane felt tears welling up in his eyes. Pathetic. He laid back, grateful that Ilya wasn't looking at him.

"It's okay, Hollander, to not get exactly what you want all the time," said Ilya. "Helps to keep your heart strong."

"Okay," said Shane.

"Yes; glad you agree." Within a few minutes, he stopped by Shane to give him a quick goodbye kiss. If he noticed how miserable Shane looked, and Shane was sure he did look miserable, he decided not to mention it. "I will text you when I get home. Maybe Lily and Jane can talk later this week."

"Okay, safe flight."

Shane languished in the hotel for bit after Ilya left, feeling sorry for himself and stupid. What exactly had he expected? He knew how these things went. Guys liked their side chicks, even had favorites. But side chicks were just that, on the side. Once the WAG called, you went to her. If the side chick complained too much, then that was the signal to cut things off before they got too crazy. Ilya had never made any other promises.

What Shane needed was a WAG of his own. Ilya could be his side. . . well, not chick. His. . . his Ilya. And when he was too busy, or was getting bored of Shane's bullshit, then Shane could go to his own girlfriend.

Yes, that was the move. Shane had been putting off getting a girlfriend for long enough. He was worrying his parents, for fuck's sake. He needed to get the fuck over himself and stop being so picky. How hard could it be to find himself a suitable woman in Montreal? Not hard at all. Not for Shane Hollander, captain of the Voyageurs, current Stanley Cup champions. He would find himself a girl before the season started. She would be amazing, as good as--no. She would be better than Svetlana.