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

Additional Tags:

Anal Sex, Barebacking, Pining, Belly Bulge, Breeding Kink, Light Spanking

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of Hockey boys 🏒

Stats:

Published: 2025-12-14 Words: 1,555 Chapters: 1/1

The walls I'm bracing

Summary

Ilya is so caught up in the hot squeeze of Shane's tight ass around his cock, the way he grinds down trying to take all nine inches even deeper as if he'll die if he doesn't, that it takes a moment for him to realise that Shane is staring at him with a quizzical tilt to his pretty, freckled face. Like sweaty, flushed bird. 

Shane doesn't stop riding him completely, but roll of his hips is slower now. Almost torture where he clenches around Ilya, like he can't help it.

"What, Hollander?" Ilya grunts; fingers digging into the soft fat of Shane's ass.

Notes

I caught up on episode 4, and here we are. Inspired by the scene where Shane is putting those hips to work 😌

Ilya is so caught up in the hot squeeze of Shane's tight ass around his cock, the way he grinds down trying to take all nine inches even deeper as if he'll die if he doesn't, that it takes a moment for him to realise that Shane is staring at him with a quizzical tilt to his pretty, freckled face. Like sweaty, flushed bird. 

Shane doesn't stop riding him completely, but roll of his hips is slower now. Almost torture where he clenches around Ilya, like he can't help it.

"What, Hollander?" Ilya grunts; fingers digging into the soft fat of Shane's ass. The animalistic part of him that was crazy and possessive over his rival, that wants to mark up every inch of that smooth, freckled skin so everyone knows exactly who has Shane Hollander whimpering like little kitten, is kicked to the side like always. Gentling his touch, just a little, so it doesn't bruise. "Why you stare at me with cute frown rather than riding me like I'm your favourite pony?"

"Pony?" Shane splutters out a laugh; distracted for a moment.

Ilya shrugs one shoulder; smacking Shane's ass cheek enjoying the way he reddens. "Male horse. Whatever."

"Stallion?"

He hums; flashing Shane a smirk, filing that word away for the future. "Stallion. I have big dick like one, da?"

Shane whacks him on the chest as he laughs again, in mock outrage. Ilya catches his hand where it lands on his pec, giving his a squeeze. Shane's rhythm stutters, and he bites his lip, looking at him with those big, brown eyes that, to Ilya, feel endless and like all his futures staring back at him, into his very soul. Whispering at him about a life together neither of them can have. Ilya stretches up to kiss him; teeth digging into the plush fullness of Shane's bottom lip, as if to remind himself it's just physical between them. No emotions. Shane tastes like ginger ale and Ilya's cum. Ilya has become ridiculously fond of the odd combination over the years.

"Stop distracting me," Shane huffs, after letting Ilya lick into his mouth; rocking back and forth on his dick in small, teasing movements.

"Would I do that, Shane Hollander?" Shane doesn't dignify that with an answer. Ilya sighs, slumping back against the pillows, knowing that Shane will not go back to acting slutty and desperate now he has thought in his head. Ilya could try other ways of distracting him, but it is much easier to just let him speak. Plus, he is curious. He teases Shane for being boring, but Ilya knows, that he could listen to the Montreal Metros captain talk about the weather or read out book of phone numbers, and still, he would get harder than nails for him. It is a sickness. Ilya wants no cure for it. "Ok. Make your point, Hollander. So I go back to fucking you after."

"Oh? Were you fucking me? I thought I was doing all the work."

Ilya smacks his ass again for the snark. Shane grins, pleased. Like he likes that. Ilya massages the generous flesh of his buttocks; skimming the tips of his fingers down his cleft, brushing over where his lube-wet hole is stretched wide around Ilya's dick. "Talk, Hollander. Before I change mind."

"Ok. Ok." Shane brings their linked hand up to his mouth; dragging a wet smudge of a kiss over Ilya's palm. Ilya wants to curl his fingers around the soft touch; hold it forever, never let it go. Just like he wants to do with Shane. "I just wondered..."

"Hmm. Go on."

"Ok. What - ah, fuck - stop teasing my asshole, Asshole!"

"No." Ilya winks up at him.

Shane rolls his eyes. Pinches Ilya's nipple between his thumb and finger. Ilya hisses out a sharp breath; bucking up into the snug heat of Shane's hole. The urge to just roll them over and fuck him until he cries, getting harder and harder to hold back. "I wanted to know what you were looking at."

"Huh? When?" Ilya frowns, unsure what he means.

Shane blushes but musters on. "Just now. When I was riding you. You were looking down rather than at my face." He averts his gaze, embarrassed. "Not that you have to look at my face, I mean, I just - you seemed pretty intense. Were you staring at my dick or something?"

Ilya understands then. A smirk spreads across his face. He taps two fingers against the sharp line of Shane's jaw; turning his face to look at him. "Not your dick. Mine."

"I don't understand…"

"I watch my dick go in and out of your pretty, little hole, Shane Hollander. I watch how badly you want my cock filing you up. How you are made to take me."

"Oh." Shane chews on his bottom lip; squirming in Ilya's lap. His dick juts up from between his spread thighs; ruddy and hard, dripping wet. Dripping precum all over hairs on Ilya's belly. Ilya swipes his finger over the wet tip and slips the sticky digit between Shane's slack lips.

"See? You want my cock so much you make mess all over me."

"Shut up, Rozanov." The words are garbled where Ilya presses his fingers down on Shane’s tongue, but he could understand them in any language. Like their mating call.

"Make me, Hollander."

Shane growls, nipping at Ilya’s fingers before spitting them out. He starts bouncing on Ilya’s dick in earnest then. Blunt nails leaving marks like crescent moon over Ilya's mole-dotted chest; thumb idly stroking the skin-warm gold of the cross pendent that rests between his pectorals. Ilya bears his teeth; grabbing greedy handfuls of Shane's ass, yanking him down to meet every sharp snap of his hips as he fucks his cock right up into Shane's guts.

He catches Shane glance down to where they're joined, trying to see where Ilya's cock disappears inside him. Shane makes an adorable pout like sad duck, when he can't see it. 

"Your pretty cock is in the way, Hollander," Ilya says; breathless with the need to come. "And where my cock makes your belly look like you are pregnant."

He presses his hand down on Shane's abdomen, where that smattering fuzz of dark hair trails under his navel, as if to prove his point. Feels the hard length of his own cock distend Shane's belly, making it swell outwards.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Shane gasps. His release rips through him a moment later; cock spurting cum all over them in thick, wet streaks. It splatters up over Shane's perky tits, dripping from the pebbled bud of one nipple. Globs of it fall onto Ilya's ribs.

"I love when I make you come untouched." Ilya chases his own release; enjoying the heavy weight of Shane pressing him down into the mattress, as he melts on top of him, all loose and spaghetti-like now he's come. Letting Ilya use his hole even though he is no doubt puffy and tender. "Only me who does, da?"

Shane nuzzles into the curve of Ilya's neck; uncaring in that moment of the sticky mess they make. Though Ilya knows he will later, especially when he adds to it. "Stop bragging and come, Rozanov," Shane orders; with the strength of new-born kitten. All fucked-out and sleepy. The domesticity of it all, that Shane feels safe and content enough to snuggle into him like this while Ilya wrecks his needy hole—

it tips him over the edge.

Ilya scrunches his eyes closed; hands squeezing Shane's hips hard enough to leave marks even though he shouldn't. He spills hot and thick inside him; Shane's hole fluttering around his cock weakly. Ilya can already feel the squelching ooze of his cum leaking from the gape of Shane's rim where his cock starts to soften. "Bozhe moy, Hollander," he says, feeling like he's been hit by bus. Shane smiles dopily against the hinge of Ilya's jaw, and Ilya smooths his palms up and down his back, thumbing at the dip of his dimples just above the swell of his peachy ass.

"You ok?" Ilya murmurs; knowing they should clean up but not wanting to move.

Shane doesn't answer. Soft puffs of air tickle the sweat-slick skin of his neck.

Ilya leans his head to the side to look down at him properly, and huffs out a fond laugh. "Of course, you fall asleep," he tuts; not minding in the slightest. Happy for the chance to hold Shane without censor, like they don't just snatch their time together in secret moments. "I wore you out, like stallion." 

He kisses Shane's temple; holding his lips there for a long moment. "Sleep, kotenok. I'll be here when you wake up."

Shane hums in his sleep; snuffling softly, hand curled over Ilya's shoulder. Ilya wraps his arms around him, and doesn't close his eyes for a long, long time. Drinking in every line and curve of Shane he can see, feel. Memorising every cute little noise he makes as he dreams. How it feels to have nothing between them; entangled together like brambles.

Not wanting to miss even a single second where he can pretend that this is their every day life, and the pretty stained glass dream won't shatter into a million pieces when they both wake up.