Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Curses, Curse Breaking, 2014-2016 Montage in Episode: s01e04 Rose (Heated Rivalry), Alternate Universe - Magic, Boypussy, Ilya Rozanov gets cursed with a vagina, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Role Reversal, Mentions of Ilya/Cliff for previous curse breaking, Not Canon Compliant, Not Beta Read, Jealous Shane Hollander, Multiple Orgasms, Pussy Curse

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-26 Words: 2,235 Chapters: 1/1

cherry bomb

Summary

Rozanov gets cursed before one of their hook ups. Shane wants to help out.

Notes

here's this short weird thing i wrote. i suggest skipping it if you're strict about their top/bottom roles. (for me, i am not strict about anything besides hollanov soulmateism.)

please do not repost, this is locked for a reason.

“You want my fingers or my mouth?” Rozanov said when he got Shane on the bed. “I cannot give you my dick.”

“Why not?” Shane asked, more curious than put out.

Rozanov could lose all appendages besides his left pinkie finger and still make Shane come until he cried, probably.

“Curse,” Rozanov said.

“Really?”

Shane’s voice was bright with curiosity and surprise. The Metros employed their own curse blocker and curse breaker, a duo whose talents were mostly enough for the team to stay out of trouble. But Shane’s mom also had hired a personal curse blocker that Shane paid a premium for, to give Shane extra protection year round. He’d only been cursed once, and that was before Yuna had hired extra help.

“The Raiders don’t have a blocker?”

Rozanov shrugged.

“Yes, we do.”

“Oh, so people just really hate you, then,” Shane said, teasing.

Rozanov grinned.

“Is not too bad. Is—“ he said a word in Russian, “—curse.”

“What’s ’peas dah?’” Shane asked, clumsily mimicking the word.

Rozanov’s smile turned into a leer.

“Pussy curse,” he said.

“Oh,” Shane said, feeling his ears go hot. “You mean…”

His eyes went to Rozanov’s crotch as if magnetized.

“Yes, they curse me with pussy.”

“Jeez,” Shane said.

His palms were tingling. He kind of wanted to put his hand to the apex of Rozanov’s legs and feel it for himself.

“They think is very bad for me, because fastest way to break curse is, you know.”

“Right,” Shane said. He did know. Any guy who played professional sports knew. “Someone has to come in you.”

Working a break around what the curse intended would take much longer than a quick fuck. Days, definitely, if not a week or two.

“They don’t know I fuck men even without pussy. So is not a problem for me. I get Marly to help tomorrow, curse broken, all good.”

Shane’s eyes flew up from where they’d still been glued to Rozanov’s crotch, to his eyes. His pulse had kicked and was now pounding in his ears.

“What do you mean, Marly? Cliff Marleau?!”

“Yes, he helps other times too.”

“Other times! How often do people curse you with vaginas?!” Shane exclaimed.

“Two, before this.”

“Jesus, Rozanov! You’ve got some crazy haters out there.”

Shane’s gut was churning. Rozanov had said, that first time after the commercial shoot, that he didn’t hook up with other players. But now he’d just admitted that Cliff fucking Marleau had fucked him multiple times. Shane took several breaths through his nose. Even if it was to break a curse, it was still fucking. Shane knew Rozanov had sex with a lot of people, but another player was different. Shane should be…Shane should be the only player Rozanov did this with. No exceptions. His eyes were stinging and it felt like his face was on fire.

Rozanov reached out and thumbed the skin between Shane’s eyebrows, where it was no doubt pulled into a tight furrow.

“Is okay, Hollander.”

“No,” Shane snapped. “I mean. Why do you want Cliff Marleau to—I mean I’m—I’m right here and you’re here—and, and—well, I think I should do it. Why wouldn’t you let me do it.”

“Ah,” said Rozanov, slowly, like he was surprised. “I did not think you would want to.”

“Why not!?” Shane demanded, offended. “I want to help you! We already have sex! Why would you wait for Marleau tomorrow and not let me do it tonight?”

Rozanov was smiling slightly, but it wasn’t mean or mocking. It was warm and his eyes were soft.

“I’m thinking you don’t like…mm…” Rozanov paused and tilted his head left to right. “This sort of equipment.”

It was impossible for Shane to flush even more than he already was, but it felt like his face was trying its best.

“I don’t not like it!” he said, but it came off absurdly defensive. “I’ve had sex with women.”

The fact that he’d done it with the fewest number of women needed to qualify for the plural was something Rozanov did not need to know.

“Okay,” Rozanov said, placating.

There was a pause during which they both stared at each other. Shane got caught up in Rozanov’s face. He was so handsome, really. Did he kiss Marleau, when they had curse-breaking sex? Did he put his hand on Marleau’s jaw like he always did with Shane? Or was it just mechanical, doggy style, not even face to face?

It didn’t matter. Shane hated the idea of Rozanov getting help for this from Marleau or any other player that wasn’t Shane himself. That it had happened twice before was already bad enough.

“I don’t dislike vaginas,” Shane said. “So I can help. I can be the one.”

Rozanov was quiet, watching Shane’s face avidly. There was something like amusement sparkling in his eyes, curling at the corners of his mouth.

“And anyways, it’ll be you,” Shane said. “So.”

The words were too truthful. The sentiment behind them rang out in the quiet room like bells, like a struck gong. Rozanov blinked and then put his palm to Shane’s cheek. Shane braced himself for teasing, but Rozanov didn’t.

“Okay, Hollander,” he said. “You can fuck my pussy.”

He winked.

“Ugh,” Shane said. “You’re such a sleaze—“

But then Rozanov was kissing him and all of his insults died away.

They wriggled out of their clothes, still kissing, and Shane lost the plot a little bit, delirious by how good it was. But then he remembered: the curse. He pulled away, and propped himself up on his hands and knees. Rozanov was lying beneath him, mouth swollen up all pretty, eyes as sharp as anything. Watching Shane look at him.

“Let’s see then,” Shane said, and shuffled back down Rozanov’s body.

The jut of his hipbones was the same. His pubic hair was the same, the moles, the freckles. But sure enough there was no dick, no balls. Just a vulva, which Rozanov did not seem shy about. He spread his legs for Shane immediately.

“Huh,” Shane said, putting a hand to the inside of Rozanov’s thigh.

It certainly was a vagina. But it was between Rozanov’s thighs and attached to Rozanov’s body, and therefore it was infinitely more attractive to Shane than the previous two vaginas he’d seen.

“I’ll make you come first,” he decided, and then bent his head down and licked him.

Rozanov made a sound that Shane had never heard him make before, something reedy, almost high-pitched.

“Hollander!” he said, sounding almost scandalized.

“What?” Shane said, lifting his head. “Is this okay?”

“‘Okay!’” Rozanov echoed, laughing a little. “Yes, is okay. I just did not know you eat pussy, Hollander.”

“I’m not an asshole,” Shane said. “I know how to treat girls well.”

He wasn’t obsessed with it, like some guys were. But it was a nice thing to be decently good at, and, fundamentally, Shane liked giving pleasure.

“Treat me well, then,” Rozanov said, and shoved his hands greedily into Shane’s hair.

Rozanov was as bossy as ever, but he was also pretty easy. Either that or he remembered what had worked for him during the previous curses, which was not something Shane wanted to think about. Shane let Rozanov grind against his face, let him tug his hair and position his mouth and nose how he wanted, and obeyed him when he said ‘stay like that, your tongue, just like that.’ He came quickly, moaning luxuriously. After, Shane rested his cheek on Rozanov’s thigh, humping the mattress a little. He was fully hard.

“Such a good mouth, Hollander,” Rozanov said, his tone low and growly with satisfaction.

Shane smiled. Rozanov smelled and tasted a little different, but also mostly the same, like skin and sweat. Shane liked being down between his legs regardless of what was between them, he found. He liked Rozanov’s fingers in his hair. He liked that he was able to make Rozanov come so fast. Shane dragged a finger down Rozanov’s slit and then pushed it in. He was wet, tight. Shane put in another finger. Rozanov groaned and rolled his hips.

Shane sat up and put the heel of his hand to Rozanov’s clit. Soon enough Rozanov was riding him that way, his hand wrapped like a vice around Shane’s wrist, holding him in place and using him to get off. It was pretty fucking hot, watching Rozanov writhe around, flat on his back, high color sweeping across his chest, his neck, his face. His stomach muscles looked amazing like this.

“Oh my God,” Shane said when Rozanov came again.

He could feel it on his fingers this time, the rhythm of Rozanov’s muscles clenching. That was going to feel insane on his dick.

“Fuck,” Rozanov said, after he was done.

He let his grip on Shane’s wrist fall away, his arms flung out on the bed like a supplicant.

“Wow,” Shane said, totally locked in, hypnotized. “Lemme try one more.”

His fingers were still inside and he scissored them a little before adding in his ring finger. Shane watched Rozanov’s face the whole time, his open mouth, the glint-glisten of his tongue as it worried his front teeth.

“You,” Rozanov panted. “You try to kill me?”

“No,” Shane said. “It’s just crazy how fast I can make you come like this.”

“Fuck you,” Rozanov said, but his voice was all breath, no bite.

Shane got him off again. It took a little longer that time, with Rozanov making near constant groaning noises in between deep gasps of breath. Shane kind of wanted to keep at it, but he was worried he might shoot off himself. His dick was like steel, and drooling.

“Fuck,” he said. “We gotta…Let’s break the curse.”

“Yes,” Rozanov said. “Fuck me.”

Shane had thought to just do it how they were, missionary. But Rozanov seemed to get a burst of energy and flipped them.

“Oh,” Shane said, his hands automatically coming to hold Rozanov’s hips as he straddled Shane.

“Now you will come for me,” Rozanov said, sunk down on Shane, and began to ride him.

“Holy fuck,” Shane said.

It felt incredible. Shane pressed his head back into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. The sight of Rozanov riding him was too much, all of his strong muscles working around and over Shane, the hot-tight-wetness of him on Shane’s dick.

But Rozanov patted his cheek.

“Ah ah,” he said. “Watch me.”

So Shane opened his eyes and obeyed.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, Rozanov. I’m gonna come too soon.”

“That is the point, Hollander,” he said.

He slipped a couple fingers in to Shane’s mouth and then smiled. It was a wicked smile, especially in the context of what they were doing. But it was also so beautiful, so honest. Shane made a horrible, high-pitched sound around Rozanov’s fingers and came.

“Yes,” Rozanov hissed, thighs and hips working. “That’s good, Hollander. Fuck, that’s good.”

Rozanov took his fingers out of Shane’s mouth and grabbed Shane’s left hand from where it was gripping his hip. He brought it to his clit and held Shane’s fingers there with his own. He ground down, rocking on Shane’s dick and his fingers until he came again.

It did feel insane. Shane whimpered. It almost hurt. It did hurt. But it was also unbelievably hot, Rozanov using Shane’s body like this for his own pleasure. Shane gasped, open-mouthed, and jerked beneath him as Rozanov spasmed, milking him in hot pulses.

“Christ,” Shane moaned. “Oh fucking—Christ!”

“That’s good,” Rozanov was saying. Still saying. “That’s good.”

Eventually Rozanov slumped forward and came to rest his forehead against Shane’s neck. Shane put his hands on Rozanov’s back and rubbed them up and down, dazed. Eventually he got too soft to stay inside Rozanov, and slipped out. But Rozanov stayed on top of him for some time after that, just breathing. He was very heavy. Shane loved it.

“Do you think it worked,” Shane asked later, after they’d rolled onto their sides.

“Yes,” Rozanov said. “By morning my dick will be back.”

“So like, it was probably just as fine as with Marleau?” Shane asked. “Like, in terms of effectiveness.”

Rozanov’s mouth spilt open on a smile.

“Yes, effective. Hollander, you think Marly does all of that every time I get cursed?”

“I don’t want to think about it,” Shane said hotly.

Rozanov laughed, a breathy, low sound. It sent a tingle down Shane’s spine despite the fact that he was irked and tormenting himself with visions of Marleau eating Rozanov out.

“He does not,” Rozanov said, after he’d stopped laughing.

Shane stared at him, wondering if he was being humored with a white lie or not.

“Marly,” Rozanov continued. “He jerk off facing the wall and then when he is about to blow, he sticks it in me.”

“Oh,” Shane said.

“Yes, ‘oh.’”

“He doesn’t even make you come?”

“The point is to break the curse.”

“I don’t know, it just seems a little rude.”

Rozanov hummed and smiled. He brought his thumb up and pressed it to Shane’s lower lip.

“Now I know you eat pussy like champ, I come to you always.”

“Or you could just hire a personal curse blocker,” Shane said.

Rozanov’s tone had been light, joking, but Shane took the words and hoarded them greedily in his head. Always, he’d said. Always.