Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Cassie Boodram, Caitlin Dykstra, Lisa Hayes (Game Changers), Original Characters, Harris Drover, Hayden Pike, Svetlana Vetrova

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Music, Slice of Life, Group Chats, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Established Relationship, Homophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, blowjob, Fluff

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Rockstar Ilya

Stats:

Published: 2025-11-01 Updated: 2025-11-07 Words: 5,397 Chapters: 4/?

living in the light

Summary

Ilya is the lead singer in rock band Overtime Lights. Shane is a hockey player.

In this second part of the Rockstar Ilya series, there will be scenes from their relationship and their lives. The scenes will be from different parts of their relationship: past, present and future!

Notes

I have so many small little nuggets of ideas for rockstar Ilya and his boyfriend Shane, so here's a sequel of sorts that I will update with little scenes from their lives :)

Notes for chapter one:
In the partners group chat we find canon partners and a couple of OCs!
Cassie Boodram (Zane Boodram's wife)
Caitlin Dykstra (Evan Dykstra's wife)
Lisa Hayes (Wyatt Hayes' wife)
Harris Drover (Troy's bf obviously! :))
Selena Chouinard (Nick Chouinard's wife)

OCs I made up:
Hazel (Holmber's girlfriend)
Martina (Boyle's wife)

Chapter 1: Partners in Crime

Caitlin
Very funny, Lisa.

Selena
And I’m adding Billie Eilish, just give me two seconds

Hazel
Yeah, Bad Bunny will be popping by too

Selena
Luca’s new girlfriend Dua Lipa about to roll up

Cassie
[A gif of someone eating popcorn]

Ilya
I could add Billie but I thought this was partners chat!

Lisa
You pretend these names are farfetched like we couldn’t have literally added Rose Landry a few years ago if Shane had been here then

Ilya
Was Rose in a voyageurs chat?

Lisa
I have no idea, actually!

Ilya
Haha! I asked her and she was not! Suck it, Rose

Hazel
What is actually happening right now?

Harris
[Gif of Jason Momoa opening a camping chair and sitting down]

Selena
Don’t do this to me Lisa. I will riot

Lisa
Everyone, this is Shane’s boyfriend Ilya.

Hazel
WHAT?

Caitlin
I thought this was a prank-free zone. I’m too tired to be doing all this. Susie’s been up since 5

Ilya
[A quick, blurry selfie of Ilya holding up a peace sign, his lips pulled into a small smirk]

Hazel
Shane, I was unaware of your game

Harris
😂😂

Caitlin
Oh my god. Is this a sleep-deprived hallucination or are others also seeing this?

Selena
Okay, wow

Sorry, where are my manners? Welcome! It gets crazy around here

Martina
I’m really sorry but why are we freaking out?

Selena
I’ll fill you in later, honey

Martina
Nice to meet you Ilya, I had no idea Shane has a boyfriend. Harris has been trying to set him up and everything.

Ilya
HARRIS???

Harris
I DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOU UNTIL TWO DAYS AGO

Hazel
Wow, Harris. Unbelievable.

Harris
No stop. NO

Cassie
I can’t believe you’d do that to Ilya

Ilya
I thought we had something, but you have been my op this whole time

Harris
It was ONE TIME

Troy almost asked Shane for his number before we got together

Ilya
I am SURROUNDED by ops?

Hazel
Not you throwing Troy under the bus, omg

Cassie
We’ve got your back, Ilya, get behind me

Martina
So this is not a new thing?

Harris
They’ve been together for like 3 years which is crazy. No one knows how they even managed to keep it secret for so long.

Martina
3 years, really? Oh my word

Is it still secret?

Ilya
Right now, yes, but we are posting about it tomorrow

Hazel
3 years is wild. Where did you even meet? I swear Shane never leaves the hockey rink.

Ilya
We met in Vegas after he won MVP. I think it was the one time he went to a club in his entire life

Easy to keep secret because everyone just makes up stories about me fucking women twice a day every day

Harris
He actually also met Rose Landry at a club.

Cassie
[popcorn gif]

Hazel
[popcorn gif]

Ilya
Harris I will actually end you

Chapter 2: we do other things

Chapter Summary

Shane gets asked what his favorite song is and things go a little sideways

Ottawa - November 2020

For the first time in weeks, it wasn’t a miserable experience to do post-match interviews. Winning would do that, Shane supposed, and scoring twice also helped. He, at least, vastly preferred it to losing, being mad about it, and then having to string together something worthwhile about it.

He fielded the usual questions, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Is this the start of a better period for the Centaurs?”

“We’ll certainly build on this in the coming week. We all know what we can do. We face each other every day, and we know there’s so much talent on this team. We did a lot of the basics right today, so we just need to build on that.”

“Do you have a favorite song at the moment?”

Shane swore he glitched for a moment, his brain not taking in the question at all.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Any favorite songs at the moment? Part of your pre-game ritual?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t really listen to music.” Shane smiled sheepishly.

“Some might say that’s surprising when your boyfriend’s in a band,” Wyatt piped in from the side.

“Okay, but, we’re not like listening to music when we’re alone together,” Shane bit back. “We’re doing other things.”

The room went quiet for a moment before everyone burst out in helpless laughter and Shane’s face flushed bright hot.

“Can we rewind this?” He asked, running a hand over his face. “My favorite song at the moment for my pre-game stuff is, uh, Borrowed Souls by Overtime Lights.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Shane said when he picked up the phone to Ilya just laughing into his ear. “Shut up.”

Shane rolled his eyes, dumping his duffel bag onto the floor as he waited for Ilya to finish laughing.

“Oh, man,” Ilya said. “That might be the best thing I have ever seen.”

“It wasn’t that funny.”

“No, it was very funny, Shane. You were so red. I had tears in my eyes.”

“You know what I meant! You all knew what I meant. We do other things together!”

“Yes, we do other things.”

“Stop it.”

“I am agreeing with you!”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you actually listen to Borrowed Souls before the game?”

“You know I fucking don’t.”

Ilya burst out laughing again. “I am impressed you could think of one.”

“Yes, well. I do pay attention to you even if I’m not listening to you before my games.”

“You know, other people would be offended.”

“Lucky you’re not other people, then, isn’t it? I distinctly remember you telling me you liked it.”

“What I like is you telling the world we do things when we are alone.”

Shane threw himself down on the couch and buried his face in his hand, groaning loudly. “Just kill me.”

“No. Nothing like that. I think I would like to do things right now.”

Taking several deep breaths, Shane stared up into the ceiling of his living room. Who was he kidding? He switched to FaceTime and felt his lips pull into a smile that he hid into the crook of his elbow.

Chapter 3: impossible

Chapter Summary

The aftermath of Shane coming out to the Voyageurs.

Chapter Notes

In the Rockstar Ilya verse, Shane has been traded to the Centaurs because of coming out as gay to the Voyageurs. This is the immediate aftermath of coming out.

TW: homophobia!

Montreal - May 2020

Shane stared at Coach Theriault—the coach he’d had for years, the coach for the team that had been his since he’d been drafted into the NHL at 18. He’d been in this office many times over the years and he’d never felt unsure of his place here, or anywhere within the walls of this organization. Shane had been a Voyageur through and through his entire career and had always known he would be one until the day he retired. There had always been such a sense of being home, of being exactly where he was supposed to be.

“You have to understand this is impossible,” Coach Theriault said, his face almost entirely blank. He had hands clasped together in his lap.

Impossible.

This was impossible. Shane was impossible. Because this wasn’t just anything. This was Shane, who Shane was deeply down to his core, and it was impossible.

His heart beat in an odd pattern, his chest feeling tight.

“Impossible,” Shane repeated, unable to say anything else.

“That’s right. Our captain being openly gay is a distraction. We have to focus on hockey, something like this has to be kept separate.”

A familiar sense of shame snuck into his body, seeping in through the pores. It was a feeling he’d worked hard to get rid of—this weird sense of shame for being attracted to men, for not getting married to a woman, for being something different. Falling in love with Ilya had helped, because now Shane knew there was nothing wrong about the way he loved. That feeling was nothing but good, nothing but pure and encompassing, and the best thing in his life. And there was no room for it here. It was impossible.

“What are you saying?” Shane asked, his voice surprisingly steady. His mouth felt dry.

Coach Theriault leaned back in his chair, eyes assessing Shane. “I know you’ve already told the team, and it’s hard to walk that back. But from now on the owners would like you to keep it away from the team. I’ve also talked to the commissioner and we, of course, need you to keep it out of the media.”

Fuck, it hurt. Memories of everything he’d achieved with this team, everything he’d given them, flashed through him. Maybe, once, he would have accepted these terms. He probably would have, actually. But all Shane could think about was Ilya. Their relationship was still a secret, but it couldn’t be forever, and it was too difficult for him to push down the inescapable truth: that he was gay.

“This seems a lot to ask of me, Coach.”

Coach Theriaul’s eyebrows rose. “A lot? I rather think it’s the bare minimum we could ask of you.”

“You’re asking me to deny who I am,” Shane said with more conviction than he’d thought himself capable of.

“Oh my, Shane, that’s a bit dramatic. I love listening to classical music when I’m at home, but I don’t bring it here.”

It might be the first time in his life that Shane wanted to punch someone, let alone an authority figure. His hand itched, like it wanted nothing more than to curl into a fist and pounce. He took a steadying breath.

“And if I don't agree to this?”

Coach Theriault actually looked surprised, like he hadn’t considered that Shane wouldn’t just roll over. Shane thought he might even see some fear, but maybe he just wanted to be just as afraid as he was. He hoped putting up a fight would put his coach in a world of trouble.

“Well, you have a no-trade clause. But your contract is up next year.”

The unsaid lingered between them. He couldn’t be traded without his consent, but they could bench him. They could make his life miserable until his contract was up.

Suddenly, the spell broke. This office, this entire building made his skin crawl. In the span of a few minutes, every good feeling he had about being a Voyageur had disintegrated. He didn’t want to be here.

“I’ll waive my no-trade clause,” Shane said, rising from his chair. “I’ll call my agent tonight.”

Coach’s brows were pinched. “Shane—”

“You’ve made it all very clear. Good meeting.”

Shane swore his vision went a bit blurry as he walked down the hall. He felt unsteady on his feet as he turned back into the changing room to gather up his stuff after practice. A few of the guys were still there, including Hayden. Shane sank down onto the bench and avoided looking at anyone. He’d come out to them this morning before practice. He thought it had gone reasonably well, even if things had gotten awkward, and a lot of them had kept quiet. It seemed like maybe they would come around. They just needed time. But now he wasn’t so sure.

“Shane, you okay?” Hayden stood over him when Shane looked up.

Shane peered into his best friend’s face. Hayden who he had played with since the very first year. His words seemed to get stuck like sharp stones in his throat.

“I’m getting traded.”

“What?” Hayden said, confused, and when Shane didn’t say anything, his face went slack. “You have a no-trade clause!”

“I’m waiving it.”

Hayden’s face darkened. “What did he say?”

Looking around, Shane shrugged. The others were clearly listening. “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

“They can’t fucking do this. You’re Shane Hollander! This is fucked.” Hayden looked around the room, clearly expecting the others to chime in. When they didn’t, his shoulders hunched in on themselves slightly.

“Hayden,” Shane said softly. “I think you’re the only one who cares.”

And as he said it out loud, he knew it was true.

Hayden sputtered, but the way the rest of them ignored his roving gaze was certainly answer enough.

“This is so fucked,” Hayden said again, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yeah.”

Ilya called the moment Shane sent the text.

“Aren’t you in the studio?” Shane asked, even if the call sent such a swell of relief through him.

He sat tucked up into the corner of the couch watching a re-run of his game against the Centaurs last week.

Ilya ignored his question entirely. “What do you mean you are getting traded?”

“Coming out to the team this morning didn’t go great, but it didn’t go badly either, I guess.” Shane swallowed around a lump in his throat. “After practice, Coach called me into his office and basically told me it’s impossible. That I have to stop talking about it, keep it out of the media, never reveal it.”

He watched last-week-Shane skate around the ice, blissfully unaware of the upheaval his life would endure only a few days later.

“You will sue the team.”

“Ilya—”

“I know good lawyers.”

“Baby, I know you’re mad, but I can’t sue the team. It would get me nowhere,” Shane said softly. “But thank you. For being mad.”

“Of course I am mad! It is not legal to punish people for being gay.”

“I know, but these things… If I said I didn’t want to be traded, they would just bench me, ignore me, make my life hell.”

For a moment, all he heard over the line was Ilya’s breathing. Then, in a much calmer voice: “Where would you go?”

And where would he go? Fuck, he hadn’t even thought that far.

“Maybe LA would want me,” he said, looking at himself laughing with Hayden on screen. Holy shit, he was going to be playing without Hayden. His breath grew shallower.

“You would hate LA,” Ilya said. “And it is far from your parents.”

“But you’re there, and Rose.”

“We are barely there. Rose is shooting movies somewhere else all the time, and I am in New York or on tour more than I am here.”

Shane let out a shuddering sigh. “You’re right.”

The sense of unease rolling in his stomach was heightening as the reality of the day truly settled.

“I don’t want to play for them anymore,” he whispered. “It’s so fucked up.”

“Shane, someone should be with you.” Ilya’s voice was steady and firm. “Call your parents.”

He knew he should, but he didn’t want to hang up on his call with Ilya. And most of all, he wanted to fall into his arms and be held and stay there until the whole world went away.

“I should call Farah too,” he said eventually, still unable to end the call. “She’ll have to find me a team, I guess.”

Someone was speaking to Ilya in the background and he answered something muffled. He had to be holding up the studio session.

“Please call your mom,” Ilya said.

“I will, I promise.”

“I have to go.” Ilya sounded like he wanted nothing less. “I love you, please call someone.”

Shane held a hand over his heart, squeezing his eyes shut. “I love you too.”

Shane didn’t even know he’d fallen asleep when he startled awake. Confused, he blinked up at the ceiling, the events of the day slowly coming back to him. He groaned, turning to fumble for his phone. The screen lit up to let him know it was 20 minutes past midnight. Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his face, but suddenly stilled when he heard a sound. Shit, that must have been what woke him.

Pushing up on his elbows, he tried to will his brain to work. His mom had left a couple of hours ago, so it couldn’t be her. The apartment had been so quiet he’d watched a studio session posted on the Overtime Lights instagram over and over again because Ilya’s voice made him feel better. But now there was another unmistakable sound of something, and he swung his legs out of bed, tip-toeing towards his bedroom door. His heart raced uncomfortably as he pressed his ear to the door. It seemed quiet out there, but he swore he’d heard something.

Getting a hold of himself, pulled the door open, only to come face to face with Ilya. Shane made a wounded noise and launched himself at him, wrapping his arms tight around his waist. He buried his face into Ilya’s chest, calmed by the weight of Ilya holding him closely. The smell of him was familiar and Shane inhaled it, greedy.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, muffled into Ilya’s shirt.

Ilya’s breath ruffled Shane’s hair as he spoke. “Taking care of you.”

“The band,” Shane protested.

“Is fine. We are not on a big deadline. This is more important.”

Ilya buried one hand into Shane’s hair, cradling the back of his head. Something unspooled in Shane under the grounding weight of Ilya’s touch. His eyes started to sting and he tried to pull himself together, but the dam broke. He cried into Ilya’s T-shirt as Ilya held him, running his hand slowly up and down Shane’s back. Ilya placed kisses at the top of his head, sometimes making soothing noises.

“Let us get you to bed,” Ilya said, eventually, once Shane’s tears had stilled a little. “You will be cold out here.”

Shane let Ilya guide him back into the room and tuck him into bed.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, wincing at how needy he sounded.

“No, lyubimyy, of course not.” Ilya began to undress, leaving his clothes on a chair by the wardrobe.

Shane’s eyes followed him, not able to stop tracking his movement as if looking away would make him disappear. He watched as Ilya rounded the bed, slipping in under the covers.

“Come here,” Ilya said, pulling him in to rest against his chest.

Shane focused on the warmth of Ilya's skin against his and the steady rise and fall of his chest. The silence stretched between them until Ilya reached over and brushed Shane’s hair from his forehead, fingers carding through it.

“You are Shane Hollander,” he said, quiet but steady in the dim light of the bedroom. “Any team would be lucky to have you. Not just because you are the best hockey player, but because you are a good person. A good captain. You take care of people. You work hard. You push other people to be the best. There is no one else like you.”

Shane’s lower lip trembled and he hid his face into the bear tattoo. He felt such a mix of emotions, overwhelmed. But something rang clearer, rising above the mess of everything else.

“I love you so much,” he whispered and tipped his head up, meeting Ilya’s eyes.

Ilya smiled, his eyes soft. “Well, I am very lucky, then.”

Chapter 4: to the moon

Chapter Summary

Overtime Lights has a concert in Chicago and Shane watches from the wings. Fans have started wearing Hollander jerseys and Ilya signs one. Shane blows Ilya backstage, as you do.

Chapter Notes

To make up for the last chapter being sad, this one is smutty and also fluffy!

Chicago - December 2020
The stage lights were blazing hot and Ilya felt the sweat trickle down the back of his neck. He squinted up into them, the drum solo reverberating through his body as he moved, throwing himself into the music. They were in Chicago and the crowd had been feeding his energy all night. Sometimes he felt like he just gave and gave of himself, turning himself inside out for these shows, but on nights like this, it fed back into him and sent his blood thrumming.

It helped that Shane was backstage for the first time since the show in New York. Sometimes the shows would make him feel like he could float away, and coming down from the buzz hadn’t always been good for him. But Shane was grounding, even more when he was there. It settled him in a way that was hard to explain and he felt ridiculously free because of it. Like he could let himself fly for the show, but safely make it down again, no crash landing in too much alcohol and weird mornings after.

Ilya threw himself into the chorus, grinning as the crowd singing along filtered through. He caught Svetlana coming up next to him and he turned, leaning towards her as she hunched over the bass. Her hair whipped around her face, her expression intent and intense. Her eyeshadow glowed under the lights. He loved playing Ultraviolet. It always came at a point where they all just let go entirely and the night was headed to its absolute peak.

When they transitioned into Borrowed Souls to deafening screams, Ilya crooned out the soft opening, until the intensity thrummed into the first chorus. When it hit, he jumped down into the area below the stage. Pushing sweat-soaked curls away from his forehead, he grinned and stuck his hand into the crowd. He came face to face with a blond man wearing a Hollander jersey, pressing against the barricade.

“Kiss me!” the guy yelled, fisting his hand in his jersey and shaking it like it was his golden ticket.

Ilya threw his head back and laughed, mid-verse, and reached out to pat the guy’s cheek briefly. He winked, moving along the barricade. Funnily enough, he wasn’t the only Overtime Lights fan in a Hollander jersey. The fans seemed to have collectively decided it was an acceptable part of the Overtime Lights concert culture and Ilya had seen multiple Hollander jerseys in the front alone. He found it absolutely hilarious and weirdly touching. It felt like acceptance.

He caught a glance of himself on the screen as he jumped back up on the stage. Curls were plastered to his face, eyeliner slightly smudged under his eyes, and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. Ilya grinned, turning to face the lights in a way he knew made his cheekbones pop. The energy of the crowd washed over him as the song ended, cheers filling the room, and as the last song began he looked into the wings. His eyes found Shane who was already looking at him, hidden at the side of the stage in an Overtime Lights leather jacket with the stage lights flickering over his face. Ilya let his gaze travel over him for too long, none of his focus on the crowd, until he snapped out of it just in time to hit the first verse.

The last notes of the encore rang out from the stage, the final cheers rising from the crowd, and Ilya chucked his guitar off, waving as he strode off into the wings. He stepped into Shane’s space and cradled his face, tipping it back to kiss him insistently. Melting into it, Shane splayed his hands across Ilya’s sweaty skin, his lips going soft and pliant. Ilya was still buzzed from the high of being on stage and it morphed into the familiar feeling of wanting Shane, always wanting Shane.

“Hi,” Shane said, pulling back, his lips cherry red and eyes soft.

Ilya cupped his face, brushing his thumb across the freckled cheek and on impulse, tapped the tip of his nose.

Shane scrunched his face, laughing. “Did you just bop my nose?”

“Da.” Ilya placed a kiss on the same spot. “Is cute.”

“It’s not, though.”

Draping an arm around Shane’s shoulder, he pulled him closer and led him towards the green room. “Well, I am right and you are wrong. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely enjoyed the show,” Shane said, eyes roving over Ilya’s chest, and Ilya smirked.

Svetlana was draped across the couch in the green room, feet up on the armrest. She looked up when they entered and gave a little salute in greeting.

“Hi, Lana,” Shane said, voice light. “Great show tonight.”

“You don’t have to do the small talk, Shane, it’s fine.” She waved her hand. “Go have fun.”

A blush bloomed on Shane’s cheeks and Ilya laughed, winking at her as he opened the door to his dressing room and led them inside with a hand on the small of Shane’s back. She rolled her eyes.

“We’re not doing anything with Svetlana right outside,” Shane said when the door closed behind them and Ilya turned the lock.

“We are not?” Ilya asked, voice innocent. “What a shame.”

He turned to the mirror and leaned forwards with his hands planted on the dressing table. His eyeliner was smudged making his eyes pop and part of the glitter he’d put in a line across his cheeks had migrated down to his chest. Knowing Shane was looking at him, he reached for a make-up wipe and moved to run it under his eye. Shane’s hand wrapped around his wrist, stopping him.

“No,” Shane said, his eyes burning.

Ilya dropped it and hummed, turning to push Shane close with a hand splayed on his back. “Change your mind, moya lyubov?”

He barely got the words out before Shane claimed his lips in a bruising kiss, body warm against Ilya’s.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shane whispered and dropped to his knees.

His sweet face was upturned, eyes already going glassy and Ilya cupped his chin, resting his thumb on Shane’s bottom lip. Shane’s hands were on Ilya’s thighs, his whole body still as Ilya smiled, slow and sirupy. He pressed his thumb down on the plush lip, pulling it down for a moment before slipping inside, his breath hitching at the swipe of Shane’s tongue. Fuck, he always looked so good on his knees, so beautiful and willing.

“You can have what you want,” Ilya said, slipping his thumb out of Shane’s mouth to pop open the button on his black jeans. “Go on.”

Shane pressed his palm against Ilya’s half-hard cock, rubbing him slowly over the jeans before he slid the zipper down. Leaning in, he pulled the jeans down slightly and nuzzled against the bulge in Ilya’s boxers. Shane let out a breathy moan, and Ilya cupped the back of his head, fingers slipping through his hair. There was the hot pressure of Shane’s mouth against his clothed dick, tongue flicking against the head through the cotton, and Ilya closed his eyes, fingers digging into Shane’s scalp.

Pulling down the boxers, Shane gripped the base of Ilya’s cock, giving it a slow stroke before bringing it to rest against his parted lips. Hot breath fanned across the tip and Ilya groaned, fingers flexing in Shane’s hair. He looked down just in time to see his cock slide into Shane’s mouth, lips stretching around it, a pink blush on his cheeks. His breath caught at the sight, and then Shane gave the sluttiest little moan, so desperate and needy.

Ilya had been lost as soon as Shane had sunk to his knees in that hotel room in Vegas. The way he looked so sweet and trusting, all wide-eyed and blushing, only to turn completely cock-drunk from the dick in his mouth. He was so fucking perfect. Ilya caressed his cheekbone, dipping into his cheek where he could feel his cock when he pressed against it. Shane looked up at him, his eyes dazed in the way that made something wild run through Ilya’s chest.

“My perfect boy,” Ilya said, watching his cock slide in and out of Shane’s spitslicked mouth. “Fuck, Shane.”

He felt Shane’s answering moan through his whole body. Looking to the side, he caught his own gaze in the mirror. The glitter on Ilya’s torso caught the light and his heavy-lidded eyes were dark. He could see the top of Shane’s head and he ran his fingers through his fringe, pushing it back from his forehead. He groaned at the wet heat surrounding him, the perfect suction and the little flick of Shane’s tongue sending his pulse racing.

When he looked back down, Shane fumbled his own jeans open, desperate little whines muffled by Ilya’s cock as he gripped himself. It was heady how much Shane loved it, how he went all pliant and needy, until the desperation seemed to take over. Tears pooled at the corner of Shane’s eyes and Ilya brushed them away softly, biting back a groan as he slid back inside.

He watched, hypnotized, as Shane took him in as far as he could and then came all over his own hand, hips hitching desperately. His muffled moans made Ilya’s head spin, heart hammering in his chest. What had he even done to deserve this?

Ilya pulled out, circling his fist around his cock. “Fuck, Shane, can I—?”

Shane nodded, dazed, and tipped his head back. Moaning, Ilya stroked himself, forearm flexing as the tension in his stomach tightened unbearably. He tried to keep his eyes open as it hit him, pleasure flooding his brain, painting his boyfriend’s pretty face. His thighs shook, a deep groan lingering as he had to steady himself. Shane’s eyes blinked open, tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip clean.

“You are killing me,” Ilya said, reaching over for the make-up wipes. He used two of them to gently clean Shane’s face and gave him another for his hands.

Hauling Shane up from the floor, he kissed him deeply, wrapping his arms tight around him. Shane broke the kiss with a soft, “ow,” and sank into Ilya’s arms, resting his head against his shoulder.

Ilya ran his hand over Shane’s back. “Are you okay?”

“Just my knees,” Shane said, voice slightly hoarse. “I’m getting fucking old.”

“You will look sexy with grey hair.” Ilya kissed the top of his head. Suddenly he could see it so clearly—an older Shane with salt and pepper hair, laugh-lines around his eyes.

“Oh god. I’ll dye it, probably.” Shane pulled out of Ilya’s embrace and went to the sink on the other side of the dressing room to wash his hands.

Stepping up behind Shane to box him in against the sink, Ilya closed his hands around Shane’s hips. “No. You will not.”

Shane laughed, wiggling his body to get out from his grip. “What, are you going to ban me from every hairdresser?”

“Have other ways to persuade you, no?”

They continued to bicker while Ilya wiped the make-up off his face and got dressed to leave. He left his things boxed up to be moved to the next venue and they headed out. Ilya laced their fingers together and they left the venue hand in hand to find a small crowd of people who were still waiting at the stage door out back. The crowd immediately buzzed in recognition and started moving in towards them.

Ilya held up his free hand. “If everyone waits for their turn, we will be out of here faster, yes? I will sign one thing for you or take one picture. You choose.”

He tried not to be bitter about having to drop Shane’s hand for pictures, and smiled for an endless line of them. The first thing he was asked to sign was a Shane Hollander jersey.

“Can you sign under the number?” the girl asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Ilya smirked, taking the white pen she’d brought for the black and red jersey. “You do not want signature from the actual hockey player?”

“Oh!” She glanced at Shane. “Could I?”

Stepping closer from where he’d been leaning against the wall, Shane grabbed the jersey and signed his name under Ilya’s. He gave her a shy smile, his eyes flicking to Ilya’s.

“People are wearing these?” He asked, handing her back the jersey.

“Oh yeah, lots of people have been buying them and wearing them to the concerts,” the girl said, beaming. “It’s, like, concert dress code now.”

“I talked to Harris and he said sale for your jersey is to the moon.” Ilya mimed a rocket taking off, missing only the sound effects.

Shane looked down at the jersey in the girl’s hand, his face doing something Ilya couldn’t quite read, but it made him want to kiss him right there in public. Honestly, Shane should really be so grateful for his restraint.

They were there for a while, working their way through the group, but eventually the last of them left, and Ilya took Shane’s hand back in his. They walked back towards their hotel, the chilly night making Shane’s cheeks and nose all red.

“Our names looked good together,” Shane said. “On the jersey.”

“Maybe I should play hockey.”

Shane snorted. “I’d pay to see that.”

Squeezing Shane’s hand, Ilya looked up into the night sky. “Or maybe we can put our names together in some other way.”

When he dared to look at Shane again, he was smiling, his eyes soft. “Maybe.”