Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike

Characters:

Hayden Pike, Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Sexual Free Use, Bad Friend Hayden Pike, Hayden Pike Has a Crush on Shane Hollander, Minor Hayden Pike/Jackie Pike, Hayden Pike Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Public Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Collars, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dom Ilya Rozanov, Sub Shane Hollander, Good Boy Shane Hollander, Caring Ilya Rozanov, Oblivious Hayden Pike, POV Hayden Pike, Exhibitionism, Hollanov Kink Fest 2026, Everyone Has a Crush on Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 11 of Hollanov Smut

Collections:

Hollanov Kink Fest 2026

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-28 Words: 7,142 Chapters: 1/1

#CC0000

Summary

He wants to offer the kind of casual physical reassurances every other submissive on the roster accepts without thinking but, instead, Hayden learns to ask before offering less personal comfort, settling for hugs and congratulatory pats.

Sometimes Shane even says yes, but mostly he smiles awkwardly and declines.

Hayden figures that is just how Shane is; some submissives are simply born odd. It isn't a bad thing, really, just—a little different.

Wrong, maybe.

His stomach always twists a little thinking it, not wanting to sound too critical. He doesn't mean it harshly, obviously, he just thinks it's biologically unfortunate. Some submissives come out a little wrong and don't understand how to accept comfort or bond correctly.

It isn't Shane's fault.

Notes

one day i will write a fic where the word count doesn't balloon past what I expect. today is not that day.

set in an AU where free use is the norm and subs wear colored collars that correspond to the level of free use they can be subjected to.

bio BDSM where everyone is biologically a sub, dom, or switch.

for the Hollanov Kink Fest 2026 prompt exhibitionism

Hayden Pike would never say it out loud, on threat of receiving one of Shane's angry scowls, but he is maybe, slightly, possibly, a little disappointed the first time he meets Shane Hollander. Not with Shane's hockey or his personality—both are top tier if you ask Hayden—but because of the bulky, you-can't-miss-it black collar around his neck, the offending item signaling to any and all dominants that Shane is not open to any free use whatsoever: no groping, no flirting, no yes or no sexual questions.

Shane Hollander is not interested.

His first impression of Shane Hollander is that the submissive looks entirely too pretty. He is a little smaller than most dominants, not as bulky, but still a bit bigger than a normal submissive. His shoulders are tense when he walks into the locker room for the first time, the black collar sitting stark against his skin.

Hayden remembers the locker room going strangely quiet. Doms, him included, were eyeing the collar with varying degrees of disappointment, their metaphorical ears and tails going limp at the missed opportunity. Their new submissive teammate will not be participating in any of the usual bonding that goes on between dominants and submissives.

It is a clear, unmistakable no.

Hayden watches more than one teammate wrinkle his nose like the collar itself is personally insulting.

"What a fucking waste," Andy mutters more than once when Shane walks into the shower room with nothing but a towel and his black collar on.

"What's the point of even being a submissive if you're gonna wear one of those?" Drapeau asks loudly after their first win that season.

"Do you think he's scared or something?" J.J. asks, a couple months into their first season playing with Shane on the team, a hint of concern in his voice.

Hayden never likes those conversations. He doesn't understand Shane either, if he's being honest, but there is a difference between not understanding somebody and being cruel about it, at least where they can hear it.

"He doesn't owe anybody anything," Hayden mutters to J.J. in response, earning a thoughtful nod from his fellow dominant.

A couple of guys laugh at the comment, their eyes straying to where Shane showers alone.

"No, seriously," Hayden insists. "Leave him alone."

For the most part, as far as Hayden knows, they do. There are some pointed comments occasionally, some lingering looks even when Shane's back isn't turned, but Hayden knows that's normal; Shane can't really expect anything less while wearing a collar that color. 

Still, it is a little strange. Shane not wanting the easy friendships built between the dominants and every other submissive on the team, that is.

Free use isn't about dominants getting their dicks wet, after all, but a way for a dom and sub to grow their bond. People who talk about it like it's only for the dominant's pleasure never seem to really grasp the truth of it all. It's about comfort and affection, a friendly grope in the shower to pass on your appreciation, or wrangling a sub to their knees until the dom can take their mind off of a bad day.

Hell, Hayden has seen more than one dominant on the team wander into a press conference to fill a nervous submissive up with their cock so they'll have an easier time answering questions.

It's about community, especially when playing a team sport. Hayden always feels closer to both his dominant and submissive teammates when they bring out the S-benches after a rough game and take turns fucking into Berkes and Steds; the other two submissives on the team lie quiet and still while being taken by their dominant teammates, like normal subs are supposed to.

Most submissives wear green or blue collars before eventually settling into red once they find somebody special. Both Berkes and Steds wear green collars, fully open for anyone to free use them at their pleasure. It really allows everyone to experience team bonding between them.

Shane, however, breaks this unspoken understanding. He always wears a black collar, always steps out of the room when the benches are brought out, always declines going out to partake in the community. Shane never comments when Comeau tries to force eye contact while buried in one of their other submissive teammates, nor does he even blink when Gagnon lays the jersey Shane had just worn during a game—smelly and saturated with his sweat—over that same teammate and comes across it.

Hayden often finds himself worrying about Shane, knowing he must be really lonely. From the very first moment Hayden sees Shane look away from team bonding, he desperately wishes he could comfort his friend the way he is meant to: by bending Shane over and whispering compliments into his neck, Hayden's cock stuffing him full and making him feel better.

He wants to offer the kind of casual physical reassurances every other submissive on the roster accepts without thinking but, instead, Hayden learns to ask before offering less personal comfort, settling for hugs and congratulatory pats.

Sometimes Shane even says yes, but mostly he smiles awkwardly and declines.

Hayden figures that is just how Shane is; some submissives are simply born odd. It isn't a bad thing, really, just—a little different.

Wrong, maybe.

His stomach always twists a little thinking it, not wanting to sound too critical. He doesn't mean it harshly, obviously, he just thinks it's biologically unfortunate. Some submissives come out a little wrong and don't understand how to accept comfort or bond correctly.

It isn't Shane's fault.

Years pass, Shane forever caged by his black collar, and Hayden's disappointment doesn't disappear, but it lessens.

Hayden meets Jackie not long after he meets Shane, and almost everything else besides hockey falls away in the wake of her entrance into his life. She wears blue when they first meet, open to more once proper boundaries are established, and she makes Hayden's heart tremble in his chest.

Hayden loves her only weeks after meeting her and is absolutely ecstatic when she asks him to come to her apartment so they can discuss moving forward in their relationship.

"I've been thinking," Jackie says once he's arrived, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"About?"

"I want to switch to red."

Hayden's feels a burst of joy at the words, completely gone for this gorgeous submissive.

When a submissive decides to wear a red collar, they are only free use for a partner of their choosing, completely dedicated to that partner's wants and needs. They go together to the Collar Office that week, holding hands as they get her collar unlocked and exchanged for a brand new red one, an O-ring attached with the implication that one day a tag might hang from it.

Eventually, that implication becomes reality when they get married, a tag with Hayden's name hanging there for anyone to see.

Four kids come in quick succession, Hayden beaming at each scrunched-up, screaming baby. Their house becomes loud and warm and wonderfully chaotic, and Hayden wouldn't change a thing about it.

Sometimes though, he wonders if Shane ever thinks about what he is missing out on.

He watches Shane more carefully after meeting Jackie—not in a creepy way—just overly concerned with how the submissive might feel now that Hayden can't spend as much time with him. Afterall, Hayden and J.J. are pretty much the only teammates that talk with Shane when not on the ice, the other subs on the team always bowing their heads and looking away when Shane even looks at them. Most of the other doms hold no interest in being friendly with a sub who won't accept comfort from their touches, even if he is their captain. It certainly creates an interesting dynamic in the locker room.  

Shane's attitude never changes, though, always polite and friendly with both Hayden and Jackie, and he even agrees to be Hayden's best man for their wedding. Hayden checks on him frequently, watching Shane to try and catch any of the loneliness he must be suffering from, but the submissive must be so used to keeping his pain locked away that he rarely, if ever, lets it show.

Shane still wears black, still goes home alone, and still sidesteps every opportunity to participate in something everyone else seems to need.

Hayden can't imagine it, that absence of camaraderie, even years after he comes to terms with Shane's odd nature. Who comforts him if he drops? Who holds him when he is craving comfort? Nobody, as far as Hayden can tell, and it breaks his heart every time.

He imagines it must feel terribly isolating.

At some point, Hayden catches the name Lily popping up on Shane's phone.

Hayden never actually gets to meet Lily, never even successfully glimpses more than her name on Shane's screen, but he catches Shane smiling at texts sometimes. Years into his whatever-he's-doing with Lily, Shane starts sneaking away to answer her calls, something about him softening after each one.

It makes Hayden a little hopeful, he's not going to lie. He likes seeing Shane blush whenever Hayden says Lily's name, his doe eyes flickering away in embarrassment each time the dominant teases him. Hayden figures Lily is probably someone like Shane, another black-collar submissive, someone who understands all of Shane's weird little quirks and quiet insecurities. Hayden certainly isn't going to pry, but he is grateful Shane has Lily. He thinks Shane deserves to be happy, even if he isn't a normal submissive.

As far as Hayden is concerned, he is more than willing to welcome Lily as Shane's second-biggest fan, right after Hayden himself.

Hayden always likes the first day of training camp; fresh ice, fresh faces, and fresh optimism. Everybody comes back sunburned and slightly out of shape, but pretending otherwise. He's spent most of the summer chasing his kids around the backyard while Jackie laughs from the porch, and now, for the first time in months, he is looking forward to seeing his teammates again.

He will admit, however, he is most excited to see Shane.

Shane didn't text that much during this past off-season, the sub insisting he was partaking in a silent retreat at his cottage. Hayden doesn't take it personally when Shane says he needs to just get away from it all for a while; Shane just wasn't built like other submissives, so of course he isolates to get his bearings. He probably needed to disappear into himself during the summer, that way he could now hopefully resurface with a small smile and a relaxed posture.

Shane has always been reliable and predictable, which Hayden really appreciates about him. 

So when he rounds the corner toward the locker room carrying two paper cups, and Shane is already there, he isn't surprised.

He is surprised, however—and Hayden nearly drops both cups once it registers—that Shane isn't wearing the same black collar he has worn for almost a decade.

"Holy shit."

No, Shane Hollander is in fact wearing a bright red leather collar, the supple material snug around his throat. The damn thing practically shines, new and expensive looking. An empty O-ring hangs from the front, polished silver catching the fluorescent lights. There is no tag, no dominant's name engraved for public viewing.

The room is unnaturally quiet as they all watch Shane idly go about his usual routine.

"Shane?" Hayden asks hesitantly, walking over to the submissive, his steps slow and cautious.

Shane looks up from lacing his skates, offering a small smile when Hayden offers the cup with tea in it to him. "Oh. Hey, Hayds."

"Your collar?"

Shane instinctively touches it, his smile growing even wider. "Oh, yeah," Shand chuckles, his fingers lightly grazing over the masterful stitching that Hayden can now see. "I switched."

"I can see that," Hayden says slowly, eyes tracing the intricate designs on the collar. They are done in the same red as the collar and are only noticeable once standing directly in front of the submissive. Hayden stares for a moment longer as Shane takes a sip of his bitter tea. "When did you do it?

"Early this past summer," Shane replies.

"You actually did an exchange ceremony?" Hayden questions laughing a little in disbelief.

"I did," Shane nods.

"With who?" 

Shane shrugs at the question, setting his cup down and returning to getting his gear in order. "My dominant."

That explains absolutely nothing and it sends the air out of every single dom's lungs in the room. They're all still eavesdropping, several of them looking visibly distressed that some unknown dominant has managed to snap up Shane Hollander without them getting a change to do the same.

"When did you even meet a dominant?"

"I've known him a while," Shane says, shrugging.

The room explodes.

"Wait, you're serious?" Comeau asks with a sneer, one of the dominants looking the most upset at Shane's new collar.

There are a couple other shouted questions, but Shane seems immune to the mood of the room, seemingly unbothered. "He's private, is all. We kept things between us quiet until we decided that this was something I wanted. It doesn't even really matter, anyway; besides my collar color, nothing's changed."

Hayden frowns a little at that, but he supposes Shane's right. He was never up for team free use and the bonding that came with it, always wearing black, and changing to red for a single dominant basically means the same thing in regards to the team.

"It matters a little," Andy mutters, aggressively pulling his jersey over his head.

"Why does it matter?" Shane asks, exasperated. There is visible confusion on his face, the emotion accompanied by frustration at the way the team is acting.

Nobody answers.

Hayden shifts, uncomfortable, but he does know why it matters, even if he can't make himself say it to Shane's face. The very vibe of the room is that of disappointment and a little betrayal, everyone collectively upset at having lost the chance to use Shane like a proper team. It makes them feel like some random dominant is more important than the bond they could have formed together.

The conversation dies, no one speaking up to answer Shane's question. Regardless, Hayden keeps catching the other dominants glaring at the collar and empty ring, Hayden joining them in trying to imagine the invisible dom attached to the other end of it.

Hayden thinks about Shane's dom more than he expects to. He isn't jealous or anything, just a little concerned for both Shane and the mystery dom. Whoever they are clearly has no idea what they've gotten themselves into when it comes to Shane's aversion to free use.

Shane is easy to misunderstand, in Hayden's opinion, and there aren't many people outside of Hayden and his parents that truly know Shane on a deeper level. Hayden can't imagine that this dom has any clue on how to handle Shane when he gets overwhelmed or is so stubborn he argues himself into exhaustion. Hayden pictures a dom trying to touch Shane when he's quietly falling apart and shakes his head.

If there's one thing Hayden knows after knowing Shane for so long, it's that Shane hates touch. It's probably why he's so against free use; he's probably pining away, desperate for the team to put him on his knees, but unable to handle the necessary physical contact to get there.

This dominant, whoever they are, probably thinks Shane can be touched and soothed like a normal sub.

The poor bastard.

Hayden almost feels sorry for them. He still wishes sometimes that Shane would simply let him in. Hayden knows Shane better than anyone on the team, even J.J., and isn't far behind Shane's parents on being an expert in how to handle his oddities. 

Hayden feels guilty for thinking it, but he highly doubts this new dom is going to be around very long.

Sometimes Hayden catches himself staring. It's never intentional, though.

Shane will laugh at something J.J. says, his hand unconsciously brushing against the silver ring on his collar. Something warm starts to settle low in Hayden's stomach at the sight, his friend looking truly content. It's exactly what Hayden has always wanted for him, which means that the flicker of heat that accompanies the sight must be joy.

Hayden pictures a dominant grabbing that collar every night, pulling it tight against Shane's throat to hold him in the right position for whatever the dom wants to do to him.

Hayden is happy for Shane. Really.

A month and a half later, Hayden is sitting in the penalty box wondering when exactly everyone lost their minds. Ever since the new season started, there is always at least one player on the opposing team that has something to say about Shane.

It's not even about how Shane's game has somehow improved over the summer—which is crazy, the guy was already the best in the league—or the way they're only four games into the season and Shane has one goal and at least 3 points in each.

No, it's always about the same thing: his new collar.

"You hiding your owner today?" Kent sneers when they're in Toronto, ruining the Guardians' home opener by gifting them a 6-2 defeat.

"Does your dom share?" Richards asks, scowling and shouting when Shane steals the puck and takes off with it, scoring his first goal of what would be an eventual hattrick and 3-2 win over the Brooklyn Scouts.

"Your dom know you're showing off for others like that?" Pierce shouts at Shane from across the ice during warmups, laughter following. Shane ignores him, continues his stretches, but Hayden still feels the need to drop his gloves the second the whistle blows and the puck is dropped off the first face-off.

They win against Columbus 4-1 and Hayden's penalty minutes are notched up by another five minute major. Shane is unamused by this, his coach tells him to get it the fuck together, and Jackie—who doesn't actually say anything specific about it—still sounds a little off when they talk about his rise in penalty minutes this year.

It fucking sucks. Hayden's only comfort is that J.J. gets in a fight too that game and his time in the penalty box, unlike Hayden's, results in Columbus' sole goal of the game. 

Their fifth game, much to Hayden's consternation, is Boston's home opener, the Raiders having started their season on the road, just like Montreal. Hayden stands in front of the bench, rocking side to side slightly as 'O Canada' and 'The Star Spangled Banner' are sang by the same guy that always sings them—Hayden can't remember his name, but he has a nice mustache.

His mind wanders a little as he stands there, dreading how this game is going to go down. Every team they've played has taken notice of Shane's new collar, every dominant in the league seemingly waking up simultaneously to the fact that Shane Hollander belongs to someone exclusively now.

It's taken until this season for Hayden to realize that it's not just their team that feels a certain way about Shane Hollander belonging to someone. With every new comment targeted at Shane's unnamed dom, Hayden starts to understand that while it was enough to keep most doms in check when no one was allowed to touch Shane, all bets were off when some sneaky bastard managed to become the only one that got to touch him.

Hayden wonders how many had simply been biding their time, waiting for Shane's collar to be green or blue one day.

His stomach turns at the thought.

J.J. nudges his shoulder as the lights come on and music starts pumping into the arena, both of them skating to take their positions on the ice.

"You good?" he asks.

Hayden exhales and nods slightly. "Yeah."

J.J. looks like he doesn't believe him and Hayden doesn't blame him; he doesn't know if he believes himself either.

In front of them, Shane is lining up for the opening faceoff against Boston, game face on as, opposite him, Ilya Rozanov lazily skates to meet him.

Hayden's jaw tightens at the sight of the dom's smirk, his blood starting to boil. God, he hates that guy; he's so fucking cocky and arrogant, always running his mouth. The last thing Shane needs is Boston's asshole captain making comments about that new collar.

Hayden leans forward, already dreading whatever is about to come out of the Russian's mouth first. He silently promises himself that if Rozanov says one wrong thing, one tiny comment, Hayden will happily take another fighting major. Hayden spends the entire game waiting for it. He waits for Rozanov to say anything; he waits for him to take one look at Shane's bright red collar and start running his mouth the way every other dominant in the league suddenly seemed determined to.

In a turn of events that Hayden could honestly never have predicted, the expected comments never happen.

"Oh, come on," Hayden mutters from in front of the bench during a commercial break in the third period, eyes glued to where Shane and Rozanov are talking to one of the refs in front of the penalty box. They have just under ten minutes left in the game and are waiting to see if Taylor is only getting five minutes for fighting against Boston's Carmichael, or if he's getting an extra two minutes for the possible slashing call, and is leaving them on the backfoot with a penalty kill.

J.J. glances over. "What?"

"Watch him."

"Who?"

"Rozanov."

The Russian captain is in Shane's ear again, close enough that Hayden can see him saying something smug to Shane, even if he can't hear it from all the way across the ice.  Whatever he says has Shane frowning, the sub responding. Rozanov speaks to him again, a smirk on his face, and Shane rolls his eyes.

"That's weird," Hayden says.

J.J. frowns, glancing at the two captains and then turning back to Hayden. "What is?"

"He hasn't mentioned the collar once."

"So?"

"So every other dominant on every other team has."

J.J. looks back towards where the two captains have concluded their conversation with the refs, both turning and making their way back to their respective benches. Rozanov chirps constantly, mocking other players while smirking in the most infuriating way possible.

He throws little comments at Shane all the time, Shane's annoyance clear in the way he turns red from anger and hatred. Yet, for some reason, Hayden hasn't even seen him look at the red collar. There has been no leer or sly implication, not one single crack about ownership.

His chirps never once reference the red collar around Shane's throat.

Hayden doesn't like it.

Montreal wins 3–2 because of course they do, Hayden thinks smugly, they have Shane Hollander as their captain.

The room after the win is loud, sweaty, and high on their win streak. Miity is already talking about finding a club, the back-up goalie's enthusiasm a little funny seeing as he wasn't even the one in the net tonight.

"We're in Boston," he says. "We might as well enjoy ourselves!"

Taylor groans from his seat, only one of his skates off as he types out something on his phone. "I don't know any places here."

"I looked some up," Miity assures the room.

"When?"

"I had to do something while you guys were on the ice."

Hayden laughs along with several others, the tension from the game slowly leaking out of him, his smile growing as he showers and gets dressed.

Someone starts organizing rides and Hayden doesn't even have to ask Shane if he plans on joining them; the sub is already out of the locker room by the time Hayden is done getting dressed. Hayden doesn't think much more of it; they're in Boston, after all, and Shane was definitely texting Lily before the game.

Except, after they all agree to meet in the hotel lobby to catch their rides to whatever club Miity has picked, Shane shows up in jeans and a white shirt, his red collar popping a little in contrast.

Hayden blinks at the sight, brow furrowing. "You're coming out with us?"

"Yeah," Shane nods, shifting slightly as he slips his phone into his pocket.

"I thought you hated clubs?" Hayden asks, though he already knows the answer.

"I do."

"Then why?"

Shane shifts awkwardly, eyes darting away from Hayden's face to stare at something behind him. "My dominant wants me to."

Hayden pauses, his eyes narrowing. "Really?" he asks, that familiar burn in his stomach returning.

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, I'm glad you're coming," Hayden replies, forcing a smile.

Sure, that makes sense, Hayden supposes. He has spent weeks trying to imagine this mysterious dominant; are they patient and understanding, older or younger, someone who wants to coax Shane out of his shell or someone willing to let Shane exist as he is?

Hayden guesses he has one of those answers now as he climbs into the same uber as Shane, watching the submissive as he looks out the SUV's window, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

The club is loud enough that conversation becomes shouting almost immediately, lights flashing across bodies as music pounds hard enough that Hayden feels it in his chest. He has to walk past three separate couples, all in various stages of fucking, to get his and Shane's drinks.

He returns to their table with a beer for him and a ginger ale for Shane, beaming at the sub when he smiles in thanks.

"You sure you don't want anything stronger?" Hayden asks, sliding into the seat next to Shane, shimmying a little until he's pressed against the sub, careful to make sure he is no longer in danger of falling onto the floor.

Shane wrinkles his nose, scooting over a bit to give Hayden room. "I'm good."

Hayden grins at him, his smile fond. "Figured."

He drinks his beer and then leaves Shane at the table when Miity and J.J. pull him away to say hello to a couple players all three of them had played with in juniors. The conversation barely lasts ten minutes, the flow interrupted when J.J. curses in French and nods at something over Hayden's shoulder.

Hayden turns and groans. "You've got to be joking." Walking into the club is none other than half of Boston's damn roster, the group settling into booths and chairs on the opposite side of the club. "Seriously?" he mutters. "Guess we can't even celebrate without them."

He heads back toward their table, J.J. following behind, intent on letting Shane know about the potential disaster this could turn into. Only, when he gets back, Shane is nowhere to be found.

"Where's Hollander?" J.J. asks, looking at the empty booth and then twisting his head around to take a quick look at the tables nearby.

Hayden stares at the empty seat and the can of ginger ale, perplexed. "He should be right here."

"He went to the bathroom, maybe?" Miity suggests as he joins them.

"He got up like five minutes ago," Taylor says from two booths down, his head popping up over the backing. Comeau and Gagnon peak out from the other side, both of them shrugging when Hayden turns his questioning gaze to them.

"I'm gonna check," Hayden decides, walking to where he thinks he spotted the bathrooms earlier.

"I'll come," J.J. says, already starting to follow.

Miity shrugs and turns with them, gesturing for the other three Metros to come along as well. Hayden doesn't see why there needs to be six players for this, but he doesn't bother stopping any of them from following him.

Hayden checks the hallway leading to the men's room and even knocks on a stall where a dom choking a sub with his cock tells Hayden he hasn't heard anyone come in during the five minutes they've been at it.

Shane is nowhere to be found. They all return to the table, everyone in the group visibly on edge at not finding their missing captain.

"No luck."

J.J.'s expression tightens at little, concerned. "He wouldn't just leave."

"No."

"He'd tell somebody.".

Miity suddenly freezes as his eyes go wide, his mouth opening slightly as he points towards the dance floor. "Guys." Everyone turns simultaneously, following the finger Miity has pointed at what is capturing his attention.

At the edge of the dance floor, barely able to be seen through the writhing bodies, is Shane. He is leaning against a pillar, head tilted slightly down as he looks up through his eyelashes at the dom standing beside him.

llya Rozanov, with his curly blonde hair looking infuriatingly perfect and an outfit that screams eurotrash, has Shane cornered, his mouth moving as he leans closer to Shane, smug smirk front and center on his face.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Hayden breathes.

J.J.'s face hardens instantly. "What the hell does he want?"

"Let's go," Taylor says, though Hayden is already moving.

Protective rage floods through him, the urge to get between them almost overwhelming. Hayden needs to get Rozanov away from his—away from his friend. Rozanov is yapping at Shane, somehow looming over the sub even though they're supposed to be the same height.

J.J. leans closer as they weave through crowd, trying to shove their way to the other side of the dance floor. "If he touches him—!"

"He won't get the chance," Hayden growls in response, catching Miity nod in agreement at the statement.

"I'll grab Hollander," Comeau offers.

"No fighting unless we have to," Hayden says, glancing back at the other dom.

All Hayden can see is Rozanov standing too close to his friend, acting far too comfortable. The Russian says something else, whatever it is prompting Shane to lift his head and look at the dom. Shane gives a small nod and then, to Hayden's horror, lowers himself onto both knees, his body ducking below the crowd.

Hayden's mind goes completely blank, even as the dance floor keeps moving around them. The music is still pounding, the cub goers still dancing and fucking to their heart's content, but all Hayden can do is stare as he breaks through the crowd and gets his eyes back on Shane.

Hayden can't believe what he finds, the sight not really registering: Shane Hollander, his best friend and probably the most repressed submissive he has ever had the pleasure of knowing, is currently kneeling in front of his biggest rival. Shane is looking up at Rozanov with big brown eyes, the club lights sending flashes of colors across Shane's face as he opens his mouth and sticks out his pink tongue. Rozanov bends over slightly, reaching up to grip Shane's face in his hand, and then spits directly into Shane's mouth.

Hayden watches Shane swallow without being told to, his eyes never straying from Rozanov's face.

"What the fuck?" Hayden hears Comeau say, his voice just reaching Hayden over the climax of the song blasting around them.

Hayden can't make himself look away as the lights flicker rapidly above, Shane's face flashing in shades of blue and pink as he buries his face into Rozanov's crotch, the Russian's hand cupping the back of Shane's head as he nuzzles against his bulge, rubbing it against his cheek.

The lights cut dark for a moment, Hayden jostled further from the dance floor as the bodies around them move, and he has to blink several times when a slower beat starts up and purple light illuminates the club.

You don't know what's in store, but you know what you're here for, a sultry beat starts. Hayden's heart practically jumps out of his chest as he watches Shane's lips part, his tongue darting out to give the clothed bulge some kitten licks, his eyes flickering up to meet Rozanov's lidded gaze before he closes them, a moan loud enough for Hayden to hear leaving him.

He feels confusion—and something he can't name—as he watches Rozanov run his fingers through Shane's hair, using the opportunity to grip his hair and push his head down firmly, his chest expanding in a slow exhale as Shane freely takes the slightly rough treatment, no protest falling from his lips.

Shane is pulled back by his hair, eyes opening slightly to look up at Rozanov. He reaches forward to grip Shane's chin, lifting his head further so the submissive is leaning back to stare up at the hard faced dominant. The Russian says something that Hayden doesn't catch, shaking Shane's head slightly, before releasing the sub, his hands going straight to his belt. 

Shane just sits patiently at that bastard's feet, eyes locked onto the dominant's hands as he finishes unbuckling his belt, seemingly in no hurry as he unbuttons his jeans and undoes his zipper.

Open your hand, take a glass, don't be scared, I'm right here, reverberates around him, Hayden catching a glimpse of J.J. also blatantly staring as they are once against jostled closer to the pair.

Rozanov apparently decided to forgo wearing any underwear—the fucking asshole—because his cock pops out once he shimmies his jeans down a little. Hayden hates it, but he stares with a clenched jaw, a spark of jealousy and restrained humiliation lighting up in him. Rozanov's cock looks huge in the club lighting: half-hard, thick, and long where it juts out of his pants. Shane looks transfixed, eyes locked onto the dom's erection like he's starving for it.

Shane immediately leans forward to lick at the tip, hands resting on his thighs. He sucks the tip into his mouth, bobbing slightly as he takes in a bit of the shaft.

"Holy shit," Taylor's voice breaks Hayden out of it a little, allowing him to brace himself just as the crowd shifts again, forcing them off the dance floor entirely. They are only separated from the pair by a few feet and some unoccupied tables. They are also close enough now that Hayden can hear the little chuffing noises Shane makes as he pulls back to lick the dom's cock like a fucking lollipop.

Hayden takes in a stuttering breath as Shane sucks Rozanov's cock back into his mouth, sucking with what seems to be a look of pure contentment on his face. The Russian's hand pushes Shane a little further down on his cock and Shane let's out a little moan, wiggling slightly as he shifts his position, spreading his legs slightly.

Rozanov pulls the sub away from him again, using his other hand to shove his pants a little further down, reaching down to lift his balls out. Shane moans louder at the sight, leaning forward to nose at Rozanov's sack, sucking each testicle into his mouth with a pathetic little mewling sound leaving him.

He returns to lavishing his attentions on Rozanov's cock, sucking him deeper until he's—to Hayden's complete shock—deep throating the monster Rozanov has been hiding in his pants. He makes little gluck sounds each time the dick kisses the back of his throat, spit starting to make his chin shiny in the club lighting.

It's okay, girl, I feel it too. Let it be, baby breathe, I swear I'm right here, the speakers play as Rozanov starts to throat fuck Shane, his hips working to meet Shane as he sinks onto his cock.

"What a good fucking slut," Rozanov growls, the sound of his voice jolting something sharp in Hayden's stomach.

He's hard, Hayden realizes. He's so fucking hard his dick aches where it's trapped in his pants. Hayden thinks he can feels his pulse in his dick.

"You are my perfect little bitch, Hollander," Rozanov tells Shane, his arms bulging as he holds Shane down on his cock for several long seconds, Shane's stuffed throat making little gagging sounds as he takes it. Rozanov pulls him off abruptly, an obscene amount of spit connecting from Shane's ruined face to his dick. "You suck my cock so prettily, sweetheart," Rozanov coos, letting Shane take him back into his mouth at his own pace. It's honestly not that different from when he was fucking Shane's face, Shane working himself over the dom's cock with a desperate air to him.

Hayden's cock pulses when he notices Shane has been subtly shifting closer to Rozanov until he's able to hump against the man's leg, little twitches of his hips allowing him to rub his cock against Rozanov's shin.

Hayden's face feels like it's on fire as Rozanov smirks down at Shane, his leg shifting so it's at a better angle for Shane to hump against. Shane moans in gratitude, gagging on his cock as he humps the offered leg like a bitch in heat.

His cock hurts and so does his heart, Hayden realizes, his eyes burning. He's watched hundreds of subs be put on their knees to service doms. He's jerked off casually while in midconversation with a dom fucking into a whimpering sub, thinking absolutely nothing of it as he came across their face. It's an entirely normal thing to do.

Except, no matter how turned on Hayden feels, there's a void in his chest, the pain forming as he realizes that he wants it to be his leg that Shane is using to get off. He wants Shane sucking his cock and looking up at him with love and adoration, because that's exactly what he's looking at right now; Shane looks up at Rozanov with love in his eyes and it burns.

Rozanov grunts and taps Shane's cheek twice, his head flying back as he thrusts his cock all the way in one more time before an almost pained groan leaves him. He thrusts a couple times before he pulls out, his cock spurting several pearly streaks of come across Shane's freckled cheeks. Rozanov wraps his hand around his cock, continuing to stroke it as Shane opens his mouth to show off the come he had already been given.

Shane waits for Rozanov to lean forward and spit into his mouth before he swallows it all.

"Take out your cock," Rozanov orders, leaning back to stand up straight once more.

Shane does just that, finally moving his hands from where they had been curling on his thighs this entire time, a little whimper leaving him as he springs free from his pants. Hayden's mouth waters as he catches sight of the glistening head of Shane's cock, a squirming feeling in his gut when he sees that Shane's dick looks just as massive as Rozanov's. Hayden has seen glimpses of Shane's dick before in the showers, but it was always soft, nestled sweetly in a trimmed bush of dark hair. Now it looks fucking huge, jutting out and glistening with pre-cum.

He looks wet, Hayden thinks, his vision swimming slightly.

"Jerk your big cock for me, baby, mark my leg with your cum. Let everyone see how much you like them watching you be used by me," Rozanov orders.

Shane listens to him, fucking into his own fist at a fast pace, little whimpers and whines leaving him as he strokes himself rapidly, his face red as sweat beads on his forehead. 

Hayden swallows thickly, eyes tracing the movement, briefly distracted when he catches Comeau with his dick out, eyes locked onto Shane. Hayden's hand twitches, glancing on his other side to see J.J. is doing the same, matching Shane's fast pace on his own dick.

Hayden turns back to catch Shane's back arch slightly, his collared neck displayed before his dominant, the lights in the club flashing and catching on the silver O-ring; Hayden can't read it, but there's a brand new tag attached to it.

You wanna be high for this, yeah, you wanna be high for this.

Hayden looks at Rozanov and his jaw clenches when he meets intense blue eyes. The Russian stares him down, face hard, his head tilted slightly in a taunt that leaves Hayden infuriated. He can take a guess as to whose name is on the tag.

Shane moans and Rozanov turns back to his sub, dismissing Hayden easily. Shane sobs as he comes across Rozanov's dark pants, his breath hitching as the man rocks his leg forward slightly to rub against the sub.

Shane looks ethereal in that moment, cheeks flushed and highlighted purple as the song comes to an end, throat and collar displayed for everyone to see; it allows Hayden to pretend for a single, fleeting moment, that he is the one that the red collar is for.

Hayden presses his palm against his clothed dick and comes almost instantly, humiliation flooding him even as his cock jerks and his balls pulse with each pull of his release. 

Shane gets up on unsteady legs, smiling slightly as Rozanov takes off his own jacket to give it to his sub, both of them gazing at the other like no one else exists. Shane spots the group of them a second after, his hand coming up in a little wave as Rozanov starts herding him away.

Rozanov's dick in Shane's mouth is permanently etched into his brain, unable to stop thinking about it as he watches his best friend leave with the man Hayden thought he hated more than anyone else in the world. Hayden thinks about the size of his own dick compared to both of theirs, the paltry amount of come he usually produces when coming, and feels thoroughly inadequate.

Hayden hears J.J. moan beside him, the sound of him coming not phasing Hayden. He turns a little, finding Comeau has located Berkes and is using him in the corner of the club, a flushed snarl on his face as he roughly fucks into the stoic sub, the shape of his lips mouthing a familiar name. Taylor, Miity, and Gagnon are nowhere to be seen. Hayden takes in a deep breath and turns back to the dance floor, getting swallowed up by the jubilant crowd, his heart lodged firmly in his throat. His eyes burn and his underwear is quickly becoming uncomfortable.

He leaves the club and showers once he gets back to the hotel, sending a text to his wife to let her know he got back safely. He stares up at the ceiling that night, valiantly ignoring the second bed in his room, empty and cold.

He doesn't sleep, plagued by jealousy and the way Shane's throat bobbed when he swallowed his dom's cum, a satisfied look on his face, red collar and tag there for everyone to see.

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