Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Established Relationship, POV Shane Hollander, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Future Fic, Drinking, Clubbing, Past Shane Hollander/Original Male Character(s), Possessive Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Bathroom Sex, Hand Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Shane Hollander Has a Praise Kink, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Anything They Can Do, I(LYA) Can Do Better

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-17 Words: 3,313 Chapters: 1/1

Worth the Wait

Summary

"Where are we going?"

Ilya gave him a sharp smile. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Huh?" Shane blinked.

"I know you've been to gay club in L.A. before. Where did you go?"

Shane flushed as he finally caught on. It hadn't even occurred to Shane that he had, technically, done the gay club thing at least once before, just not with Ilya. Of course Ilya wouldn't forget that fact, and it suddenly made a lot more sense why he'd chosen L.A. for this little expedition.

"Seriously?"

—

Ilya has an idea of how he and Shane can celebrate their recent win in L.A. and it definitely has nothing to do with Hollywood blow job guy.

Notes

I'm baaaaack! I'm I… writing again? No, I refuse to commit to any such thing, but I DO have a third fic for this fandom in almost as many months, so I'm not not writing.

Spiritually this is in the same universe as the first fic in this series, but absolutely can be read as a standalone.

This takes place at some point after the end of The Long Game and contains minor spoilers for that book and all others in the series. As with the first fic in this series, it's more book than show canon, as it explicitly references a conversation that takes place in the Heated Rivalry book that was not included in the show. More specifically, it was inspired by an exchange that Ilya and Shane have where Shane reveals that during their seven-year-long situationship, Shane had (two) other sexual experiences with men. But I wrote this with TV show actors in mind, and there are some elements of show canon blended in for fun. 🙂

Thanks to the amazing firethesound for giving this a once-over for me!

Shane loved the locker room after a win.

Triumphant grins and boisterous laughter, good-natured chirps and the steady thrum of camaraderie—success was so much better when shared. Even the sour tang of sweat-damp gear and the stench of B.O. no amount of antiperspirant could overcome somehow smelled sweeter after a win, proof that the victory was well-earned. Shane had enjoyed the shared post-win endorphin rush on every team he'd played on, from Pee-Wee on through to the MLH, but the energy was even more electric with the Centaurs.

"Damn, Hollzy, that game-winner was a beaut!" Dykstra said, clapping Shane on the back as he made his way over to his cubby. "L.A. didn't stand a chance!"

"Of course they didn't," Ilya scoffed, already on his way towards the showers while Shane was still busy stripping off his jersey. "We are the best."

"We have to go out and celebrate!"

"Hell yeah, we do. Anybody know a good spot?"

Chouinard held up his phone. "I played with Jameson in Houston my rookie year. They're all going out to 'the best club in the city' if we don't mind hanging out with the enemy."

"Not a problem for me. L.A.'s cool," Bood said.

"Yeah, I'm down," Young added, followed by several other murmurs of agreement as most of the team stripped down and headed to the showers.

"Roz, Hollzy, you guys in?"

"In for what?" Ilya asked, already done with his quick rinse-off, a towel slung low on his hips. Shane pointedly didn't look at him—they staggered their shower times for a reason.

"Clubbing with the team to celebrate! We're going to party with L.A. and rub their faces in it," LaPointe said.

"Nicely," Chouinard yelled from the showers. "They're chill."

"I'm always nice!"

Shane didn't think that the best club in the city was likely to be his speed, but he'd been trying to put in more of an effort to socialize with the team, and he knew Ilya wouldn't mind if he ended up leaving early. He'd started packing a going-out outfit (one of several that Rose had encouraged him to buy the last time they'd hung out) for away games, in the spirit of planned socializing.

He opened his mouth to say they'd come, when Ilya cut in, "Not tonight, boys. Have fun without us."

"Booo!" somebody shouted from the showers, or maybe several someones, it was hard to tell over the water.

Troy snorted. "You know what these two are like after a win. They've probably got a different plan to celebrate"

"Jealousy is ugly look on you Barrett," Ilya teased with a smirk. "But you are not wrong."

Shane shrugged, flashing an apologetic glance at LaPointe as he headed towards the showers. "Guess we're out tonight. We'll join the next one."

He was surprised that Ilya had turned down the chance to party with the team, but he was hardly going to complain. Celebrating privately with Ilya had always been his favorite way to mark a win.

It hummed beneath his skin as they headed back to the hotel, the team peeling off into their rooms to get ready for a night out while Shane eagerly anticipated their unexpected night in. Shane wondered what Ilya had planned. It was clear he had something in mind, and Shane was buzzing with curiosity, but he'd learned long ago it was more fun to wait and let Ilya tell him in his own time.

Ilya kissed him as soon as they got into their room, pressing Shane softly against the door. Shane melted against him, sliding his hands around Ilya's waist and grabbing his ass, pulling him more firmly into Shane's body. Ilya hummed and shook his head, taking a step back, grinning when Shane whined at the loss.

"Not yet, moya lyubov'. We must get ready first."

"Get ready?"

Ilya nodded, grinning. "Yes. We are going out."

Shane's brow furrowed. "But you said—"

"We are going out, but not with the team. Somewhere… a little more gay."

"Oh," Shane murmured, eyes wide. "You want to go to a gay club?"

Ilya nodded, pulling Shane in close, moving their lower bodies together as if they were dancing. "Mmm, yes. I want to go out with you. Get drunk. Dance. Show you off. You want this too."

Shane did. He'd mentioned it weeks ago while watching a shitty movie together on the plane as they'd headed back home from a win in Houston. Shane couldn't remember what they'd even been watching, but there'd been a club scene, and he'd never actually liked clubs all that much, but he'd felt a sudden, intense yearning. He'd never gotten to dance like that with Ilya, sexy and hungry and unashamed. Back when Shane had been with Rose and they'd run into Ilya at Ciel, he'd had to watch Ilya as he danced with some girl, grinding up against her, his hands and mouth all over her body. It had burned, knowing that he would never have that, that all he'd ever have of Ilya was stolen, secret moments.

Shane shouldn't be surprised that Ilya had remembered, had remembered and schemed about how to give Shane this thing that he wanted, in a way that he'd actually want it. The Centaurs were cool—they'd have been fine going to a gay club if Ilya had suggested that for their post-game celebration, but Shane wouldn't have been able to loosen up in the same way around them. They were co-workers, and maybe someday friends, but it was still Shane's first season with the team, and his recent fallout with the Metros made him cautious. This fantasy of him and Ilya grinding in a club, he didn't want it to be about hockey, didn't want eyes on him because he was Shane Hollander, famous MLH player. He wanted to be just another guy in the club, one who just so happened to be dancing with the hottest man in the room.

Shane nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Ilya grinned. "Good boy." Shane's eyes narrowed, but he was distracted by Ilya's hand cupping his cheek. "You brought shiny shirt, yes?"

"Yeah, I brought it." It was one of Ilya's favorites, a black, satiny button-up with a drape to die for according to Rose. "Where are we going?"

Ilya gave him a sharp smile. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Huh?" Shane blinked.

"I know you've been to gay club in L.A. before. Where did you go?"

Shane flushed as he finally caught on. It hadn't even occurred to Shane that he had, technically, done the gay club thing at least once before, just not with Ilya. Of course Ilya wouldn't forget that fact, and it suddenly made a lot more sense why he'd chosen L.A. for this little expedition.

"Seriously? That was years ago! I doubt it's still open."

Ilya reached into Shane's pocket to grab his phone and held it out. "Check."

Shane swallowed but didn't argue, taking his phone and pulling the name of the club out of the recesses of his mind. He didn't like thinking of that time of his life very often, the lonely nights spent desperately trying not to think of Rozanov, who was too busy fucking models and puck bunnies between their games against one another to spend any time thinking about Shane. It had been an Instagram story that had done it, a brief shot of Rozanov making out with an unknown woman in the background of Marlow's update in some club after their win against Toronto. Shane was also celebrating a win, or he should have been anyway, not moping alone in his hotel room while the rest of his team got laid. He could get laid.

It had been over a year since Mexico, since he'd proved to himself that he could pick up a man who wasn't Rozanov. Nothing was stopping him from doing it again. He was in L.A. for fuck's sake! Shane had googled nearby gay bars, spent a few minutes reading reviews, and then ordered an Uber before he could chicken out. He'd been sick with nerves, but desperate enough to push through anyway.

Shane hadn't danced, but he hadn't needed to. Before he'd even finished his first beer he was approached by a tall man with a swimmer's build and the kind of generic good looks apparently shared by everybody in L.A. But Shane liked the man's confidence, his sly smile, and that he didn't hesitate in asking for exactly what he wanted. Shane wanted it too, even if he couldn't quite manage to shake the nerves, not even when he was on his knees on the filthy bathroom floor of a public restroom, choking on a stranger's dick.

"So?" Ilya prompted, shaking Shane out of his memories.

"Hmm?"

"Is it open?" Shane looked down at his phone—it was. He looked back up at Ilya, who was gazing at him softly. "We don't have to…"

Shane shook his head. "No, I want to. It wasn't…" He shrugged. "It will be better with you."

"Most things are," Ilya said with a grin, and Shane rolled his eyes.

"Okay, thirty minutes to get ready, and then we're leaving." Ilya gave Shane a rather severe look, belied by the twinkling in his eye as he wagged a finger at Shane. "No funny business. You will not distract me. Sex is for later."

"You gonna reward me for surviving the club?" Shane meant it to come out sarcastic, but his voice leaned more breathy and eager. Ilya's smile was smugly self-satisfied.

"Yes, if you're good. But you will be, won't you, Shane. You'll be good for me."

"Yeah," Shane breathed, still hypnotized by Ilya's magnetic presence even after all these years. "Always."

Shane slammed back his second vodka soda—made with the club's most expensive vodka, which had still caused Ilya to wrinkle his nose with mild distaste, but they were in America. It was two more drinks than he generally let himself have during the season, but this was a special occasion, and with no game or practice tomorrow, he didn't mind easing up on his usual restrictions. Drinking was part of the clubbing experience, after all.

Ilya had eased him into it, letting Shane linger at the fringes while he nursed his first drink by one of the standing tables at the edge of the room. They swayed together to the music, Ilya wrapped around Shane, chin hooked over Shane's shoulder so they could hear each other speak over the frenetic beat of what Shane supposed must technically count as music. Shane let the alcohol and the atmosphere sink into his body, touched at the restraint he could feel quivering throughout Ilya's body when he didn't immediately drag Shane into one of the filthy displays half the club was already engaging in.

But when Ilya had murmured, "One more," into Shane's ear before disappearing for their second round, he knew the time had come. Ilya had downed his drink in one swallow, his eyes locked with Shane in silent challenge and, well, Shane had never backed down from one of those, especially from Ilya.

He'd barely set down his glass before his husband was pulling him out on the dance floor. The eager drag of Ilya's hands on Shane's body made his heart thump in time with the rapid, heavy bass. The blatant desire of their movements made Shane feel somehow both exposed and invisible as they sank into the crowd, just one of the many writhing bodies letting off steam on a Saturday night.

Shane was still not sure he could say he was a fan of clubs—the music was too loud, the air too hot and humid, the overpowering mix of scents and the unending crush of bodies threatening to send him into sensory overload. But with Ilya there, it somehow felt manageable, his firm, familiar body a rock in the sea of chaos around them. Shane pressed in close, letting his hands wander over Ilya's biceps and back, squeezing his ass, toying with the bottom of his tank to brush fingertips across overheated skin. He nosed at Ilya's neck, letting the spicy scent of him regulate Shane's nervous system even as it keyed him up, arousal a heady thrum vibrating through his body as he and Ilya moved together.

Maybe it was the alcohol or just Ilya, or more likely a mixture of both, but Shane felt himself sliding into that space that really intense sex with Ilya could sometimes take him. He felt hungry and needy as he mouthed at Ilya's neck and collarbone, leaving little nipping kisses that begged for attention. Ilya didn't disappoint, his big hands cupping Shane's ass to tug him in closer, guiding their hips into a filthy grind to the beat. One hand slid up, a hot brand caressing Shane's back and neck, burying itself in Shane's hair and tugging to tilt Shane's head back. Shane's eyes were closed as he lost himself in the sensation of the music and Ilya's body, but they flew open when Ilya gave his hair a sharp tug.

His gaze met Ilya's blown-out pupils, his expression hot with desire. Ilya's lips curved into a sexy smirk.

"There you are," Ilya said, barely audible over the music. He moved their lower halves together in a slow grind, the hardness of their cocks unmistakable. "I've got you all worked up."

Shane nodded. He felt drugged. "We should—" He broke off and leaned closer, brushing a kiss against Ilya's jaw before dragging his tongue along the ridge of Ilya's ear, continuing, "We should get out of here. I'm ready for my reward."

He felt the rumble of Ilya's laughter, the brush of their cheeks as he shook his head. "Hmm, no," he said, before turning to give Shane a hard, deep kiss that Shane immediately lost himself in. He melted against Ilya, forcing him to take some of his weight as he twined his fingers through Ilya's curls, letting the want in his veins catch fire.

"Bathroom," Ilya growled, breaking off the kiss and dragging Shane off the dancefloor. "Now."

Shane only had eyes for Ilya, so he couldn't say if there was anybody else in the bathroom when Ilya barged in, pushing Shane into an open stall before closing the door behind them. The music was just as loud in here as it was on the dance floor, a pulsating throb to cover any number of audible sins.

Shane stared at Ilya, stomach tight with want as Ilya drew him in close by his belt loops before turning them both so Shane's back was against the stall door.

"Gonna blow me, Rozanov?" Shane taunted, their lips close enough to brush together as Shane spoke. It hadn't escaped his notice that Ilya seemed intent on recreating one of Shane's few previous sexual experiences. "Want to prove you can do me better than the last guy I had on his knees in this bathroom?"

Ilya's eyes danced, his grin proud as he shook his head. He brought his hand up to cup Shane's jaw, running a thumb along Shane's bottom lip before pressing inside, heat flaring in his gaze as Shane fellated his thumb.

"I do not think I have anything to prove, do I, my Shane?" Shane shook his head, and Ilya nodded. "That's right. I already know I am the best you ever had." His free hand tugged at Shane's jeans, undoing the button and zip in a practiced move that Shane found way hotter than he probably should.

"So what are you going to do to me then?" Shane asked as Ilya slid his thumb free.

Ilya leaned in, his body crushing Shane back against the door as he whispered hot against Shane's ear. "Whatever I want."

Shane's moan was swallowed by Ilya's mouth as he kissed him again, heavy and desperate as a hand wrapped around Shane's dick. His grip was firm and familiar, and Ilya immediately started jerking it, setting a brutal rhythm that, keyed up as Shane was, would have him going off like a geyser in no time at all. Shane whined and rocked his hips into it, writhing between the door and Ilya's hard body and his unrelenting fist.

"That's it, just like that," Ilya crooned. "I don't even need to give you my mouth to make you desperate for it. Just my fist, dry, not even spit or lube, and you whine and beg." He pressed a soft kiss against the side of Shane's neck, a gentle counterpoint to the aggressive command of his hand around Shane's cock. "No, I don't have anything to prove. Poor Hollywood blow job guy didn't know what he was missing."

Shane tensed, his breath a high whine as his hands scrabbled uselessly against the stall door. He was so close. He was going to—gonna—

"Go on, Shane. Come for me."

Shane shuddered as he came, collapsing forward against Ilya as his legs went liquid with the force of his orgasm. Ilya stroked him through it, catching Shane's release and using it to milk more out of him, making him dirty and sticky in a way he was really going to hate in a few minutes, but for now was super hot.

"Perfect," Ilya murmured. "Love how you come for me."

Shane nodded weakly against Ilya, fingers clutching the back of Ilya's shirt like a lifeline. "Yeah, just for you."

Ilya gave a self-satisfied hum and stepped back, chuckling when Shane couldn't stop a little whine at the loss.

"Just cleaning up." Ilya grabbed a wad of toilet paper, cleaning his hand and then Shane's softening dick, before tossing it all in the toilet and flushing. By the time he'd tucked Shane back into his jeans and did up his fly, Shane's brain had finally come back online.

"Wait," he said, reaching for Ilya's jeans and the hardness he could see there. "You didn't come."

Shane moved to drop to his knees, but Ilya's hand hooked under his armpits, keeping him upright.

"Hmm, no. That is for later."

Shane frowned. "You don't want me to blow you?"

"On this filthy bathroom floor?" Ilya smirked and raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like much of a reward to me. And you were very good."

"That wasn't my reward?" Shane asked, gesturing towards the stall door Ilya had just had him against.

"Handjob? No, that was just to tide you over." He cupped Shane's cheek again, leaning forward until their foreheads touched. "Quickies in bathrooms can be fun, but I cannot take you apart the way you deserve in here. So I give you, hmm, appetizer, but main course is back at hotel."

"I could give you an appetizer." Shane reached out to cup Ilya's bulge, and Ilya let loose a little moan.

"As if you on your knees for me could be anything other than a feast." Ilya shook his head and pressed a quick kiss against Shane's nose before backing up. "I know what you are thinking, Shane, but I can have your mouth whenever I want it, no?" Shane nodded, wishing Ilya wanted it now. He was hungry. Ilya grinned.

"Patience, Shane. It will be worth the wait." His gaze softened as he reached out and grabbed one of Shane's hands in his own, their fingers sliding together with familiar ease. "Don't you think?"

Shane stared down at their hands. His mind flashed back to the Shane of all those years ago, sharing this bathroom stall with another man, desperate to forget about the one guy he couldn't seem to shake. He was so glad he didn't.

"Yeah," Shane agreed, grinning at Ilya as he gestured for him to lead the way out of the bathroom. "It was worth the wait."