Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau/Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov, past shane hollander/ilya rozanov - Relationship

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Shane Hollander, (but only in spirit)

Additional Tags:

Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Top Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Creampie, Felching, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov Friendship, Cliff Marleau is a good friend, Ilya Rozanov is a Good Friend, they need to fuck eachother plantonically, like hollanov endgame obviously but these two have explored eachothers bodies, Multiple Orgasms, refractory periods do not exist in this timeline im sorry but i had a lot of ground to cover, just be glad i didn't make you wait multiple chapters for plausibility

Language:

English

Collections:

Anonymous

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-13 Words: 13,013 Chapters: 1/1

In For A Penny

Summary

“You know how girls always say ‘I hate men, I wish I was gay so I could just date women.’?” Marleau said, out of nowhere.

“Mhm.” Ilya replied. He took a long sip of his drink.

“I think they’re fucking on to something.” Marleau said. “It’s less drama, right? Like, cause it’s two girls.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Marleau?” Ilya asked.
“I’m saying that if I were gay, none of this shit would’ve happened.” Marleau exclaimed. “Like, it wouldn’t be so… messy. I’d just fucking play video games and workout, and then we’d fuck.”

Ilya had been bringing his drink up to his mouth to take another generous swig, but he stopped halfway, mouth hanging slightly open, eye brows shooting up. “Marleau, you’d be having gay sex. Like, sex with a man?”

“Yeah.” Marleau sighed. “But a guy wouldn’t do this to me.”

———

Cliff and Ilya are both going through breakups, and everyone knows the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

Notes

Me reading porn: oh god what's with all this exposition, lets get to the porn!!!!

Me writing porn: well I need to set the scene first.

lmfao to the pervs like me start at 'For the first time in weeks, Ilya’s mind went perfectly, mercifully quiet.' to cut to the porn.

-

I am a bottom!Ilya truther, and I am a Ilya/Cliff truther as well. like hollanov is always going to be endgame, but they kissed ok? theyre my close personal friends and they told me.

also i had to look up a word when tagging, like i knew it had a name i just didn't remember what it was, 10 points to anyone who can guess what my vocab word was.

They weren’t assigned to room together, hadn’t been all season, and yet there Ilya and Marleau were in a shared hotel room, like they had been for the past nine away games.

Was it because they were close friends? You would think, but no. It wasn’t that they were captain, and alternate captain either, although that would be a reasonable assumption to make.

No one had actually said anything, but Ilya knew. It was because both of them were in such miserable moods, that no one else could stand to be around them, let alone room with them.

This further pissed Ilya off, and didn’t improve his disposition. He might’ve said something, except he actually really enjoyed rooming with Marleau.

Misery loves company, and all that.

What pissed him off, is that everyone understood Marleau’s shitty attitude. Sympathized with him, even. From a distance, but still.

Marleau’s girlfriend of five years broke up with him, out of the blue, over text last month. Brutal. He was given a wide berth, and he took it. Snapping at rookies, checking too hard during practice, blowing off team gatherings. People talked, sure. Complained even. But always with an air of still sorry for him or he’s going through a tough time.

Ilya on the other hand was being a dick for seemingly no reason. No reason at all. He was also given plenty of breathing room, but he could tell he was becoming grating, and had no sob story to explain.

Not one he could tell.

Luckily, Marleau had always been like him, a little rough around the edges. He didn’t mind Ilya being an asshole. And after the fourth or fifth time they were herded towards the same room, before having new key cards shoved in their hands, as their own was promptly snatched away, Ilya felt a sort of camaraderie with Marleau.

Of course, Marleau had no idea about that, how similar their situations were, although with some obvious differences. 

But Ilya did, and he had more sympathy for Marleau than anyone else. Over time, they both softened up. Slightly. Very slightly. And usually only in the hotel rooms they’d been banished to, far away from home, where no one else could hear them.

“Get up.” Ilya said, as he got up himself. They were both laying on their beds. Ilya propped up on one side, scrolling through his phone, Marleau on his back, earbuds in listening to music. He didn’t move.

Ilya lifted himself off the bed, stopped, stared, and leaned over roughly shaking Marleau’s shoulder. “Hey. Hey!”

Marleau jolted away, hands flying up to take out his earbuds, and snapping, “What? Jesus!”

“Get up.” Ilya said. “We’re going out.”

“Out?” Marleau said, turning towards the big window that looked out on the city behind them. “No.”

“Yes.” Ilya said, snagging one of Marleau’s earbuds from the bed, and pulling it out of reach when Marleau reached for it. He stepped back when Marleau sprung forward, and suddenly, he was up.

“Get dressed.” Ilya said, looking at the now standing Marleau. He tossed the earbud back, and Marleau fumbled to catch.

“Hey—” He started, finally managing to clap his two hands around the earbud. “I’m not going fucking out.”

“Marly.” Ilya said. He’d gone to his closet, swiping through jackets. “Put some clothes on.”

“I said—”

“It’s a Friday night. We are young, hot, and single.” Ilya said. “When you’re old as fuck, and crippled, you won’t be thinking I am so glad I stayed home and cried myself to sleep. You will think thank fuck I listened to my much smarter and sexier friend, and got laid. You can jerk off to Lana Del Ray when you are decrepit.”

Marleau slowly lowered his earbud from where he’d been lifting it to his ear. He gave Ilya a displeased look, but put his phone and earbuds down, and started toward his own closet.

As he passed Ilya, he still muttered, “Decrepit? Who gave you a fucking dictionary?”

“Your mom.” Ilya said, “Now put some fucking clothes on.”

He punctuated his sentence by snapping the closet door shut and starting towards the bathroom, tugging his shirt over his head as he went. “Dibs on bathroom.”

He heard Marleau mutter something under his breath after the door shut behind him, but if anything that was a good thing. Sign of life.

He tossed his shirt into the corner of the bathroom, and turned on the shower as hot as he thought he could stand it. Then he took off his pants with the same efficiency except he shoved his phone in his pocket when he’d gotten up off the bed.

He paused, and pulled it out. He hadn’t even shut it off. There it was, a search bar open to the newest article about Hollander and his new girlfriend. His beautiful, nice, female girlfriend. His normal, acceptable, popular girlfriend.

Ilya’s hand clenched around the phone, and instead of giving into the urge to throw it against a wall as hard as he could, he did his best to gently toss it onto his shirt, already on the ground. Followed shortly by his pants, boxers, and socks.

Ilya took a deep breath, didn’t look at himself in the mirror, certainly didn’t look over at the pile of clothes with a still on phone screen facing up. He stepped into the shower, and turned up the temperature.

The club Marleau found was perfect on paper. Busy but not packed, beautiful women, decent music, clean. He’d been explaining how he’d heard about it to Ilya during their cab ride over, but Ilya wasn’t listening.

This was the sort of club that Rose Landry would be seen at. He stared at his drink, his third of the night, and wondered what Rose Landry drank. He wondered if she was able to get Hollander to come out with her, or if Hollander was able to convince her to stay in.

They probably talked about it. Communicated. I came to a compromise. We worked through it together. Ilya took another big swig, finishing it.

“Cass loved this song.” Marleau said, sitting in the booth next to him. He’d been putting away his own drinks quickly. “Used to— hic, put it on in the car.”

“Fuck this song.” Ilya snapped.

Marleau turned to look at him, frowning, but didn’t say anything. His drink was empty, so Ilya took it as an opportunity to get the fuck away.

“I’m getting another, you want?” He said, getting out of the booth, only stopping to hear Marleau’s response for a second.

“Yep.” Marleau said, clipped. He looked back down at his drink before Ilya had turned.

So this was not their most successful outing.

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with them. Well, there was the fact neither of them wanted to dance at all, meaning they’d spent the past hour holed up in a booth. Then there was Marleau’s face, long and hollow. Ilya couldn’t see his own face, but imagined a similar expression was on it.

Their sadness acted as repellent, apparently. Even now, Ilya’s glowering eyes parted the crowd all the way to the bar. He resented and appreciated this at the same time.

On his way, he made eye contact with a girl. A beautiful girl. One who was smiling at him. She caught his eyes, smiled, looked away, glanced back. It was a textbook, it was a home run.

But Ilya legitimately couldn’t force the muscles in his face to relax enough to smile, instead he gave her what probably looked like a painful grimace.

She did not look back again.

Whatever, he didn’t fucking care. This was mostly for Marleau anyway, all he’d wanted to do was get off that stupid bed, out of the fuckass hotel, and away from his phone. The phone which he was extremely aware of.

He also spied a small hallway right next to the bar. It would be so easy to duck in there, hide from everyone else, pull up the search engine again, and find out every single detail about the date Hollander went on with Rose Landry last night. Where they went, what they wore, what they did. Were they smiling? Laughing? Just gazing into each other's eyes, doing nothing at all?

Ilya took the phone out of his pocket, and turned it off completely. Then he ordered double what he’d gotten before, and did the same for Marleau as a cover.

Marleau was exactly where Ilya left him, slouching in the booth, hand holding his head up by the chin. His eyes flicked up when Ilya approached, but otherwise he didn’t react.

Ilya slid Marleau his two glasses. 

“You know how girls always say ‘I hate men, I wish I was gay so I could just date women.’?”

“Mhm.” Ilya replied.

“I think they’re fucking on to something.” Marleau said. “It’s less drama, right? Like, cause it’s two girls.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Marleau?” Ilya asked.

“I’m saying that if I were gay, none of this shit would’ve happened.” Marleau exclaimed. “Like, it wouldn’t be so… messy. I’d just fucking play video games and workout, and then we’d fuck.”

Ilya had been bringing his drink up to his mouth to take another generous swig, but he stopped halfway, mouth hanging slightly open, eye brows shooting up. “What?”

Marleau wasn’t even looking at him, and waved him off. “No like, imagine: you get to have sex, but you don’t have to deal with all the emotions. And you can hang out and stuff.”

“Marleau, you’d be having gay sex.” Ilya reminded him, finally finishing his sip, “Sex with a man?”

“Yeah.” Marleau sighed. “But a guy wouldn’t do this to me.”

Ilya couldn’t help but to scoff, which did actually catch Marleau’s attention.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ilya said, taking another sip, and muttering into his drink. Marleau didn’t hear what he said though, he’s pretty sure.

He did give Ilya a strange look, that he chose to ignore.

They get up pretty soon after that. There was nothing wrong with the club, it was them. They were putting off a terrible vibe, and frankly probably should’ve left a drink or two ago.

Marleau ordered the taxi, seeing as Ilya’s phone was still off. They waited outside the bar, Marleau leaning against the wall of the bar, Ilya stood with his back to the wind, trying to light a cigarette, and failing.

Marleau was amused but didn’t say anything, probably because he wasn’t in the mood to get smacked in the shoulder. 

Ilya gave up a moment or two before the cab pulled up, and he got in smelling of cigarettes, without the satisfaction of smoking.

Worst night of his fucking life, truly.

He didn’t know how far out from the hotel they were, when Marleau, out of nowhere, said, “So you don’t think it’d be better?”

Ilya had been resting his head on the window, eyes mostly closed, except the one closest to the glass which was just a teeny tiny bit open, watching the building fly by him. He groaned, blinked his eyes and rolled his shoulders, releasing the tension in his neck. Then, he finally managed to look over at Marleau.

“What?” He said grogily. The alcohol and his impromptu semi nap were mixing in a slightly unpleasant way.

“The lesbians.” Marleau responded, as if that made any fucking sense at all.

“What?” He repeated.

“It’s less drama!” Marleau exclaimed. “Like, two girls. Less drama. It’d be the same.”

Ilya gives him a downright withering stare, that Marleau couldn’t possibly understand, and Ilya can’t explain.

“Shut the fuck up, Marleau.” Ilya said, and he rested his head against the glass again.

They stumbled into the room more than they walked into it.

Marleau fumbled for a light switch clumsily, but Ilya didn’t wait to be able to see. He ventured forward, almost tripping over a pair of sneakers he left out, only to collide with the desk. After a moment of shuffling, he found his suitcase, and blindly felt around for sweatpants.

“Got it!” Marleau exclaimed, and suddenly there was light.

And that light revealed it was not Ilya’s suitcase that he was digging through.

“Jesus.” Ilya said, basically jumping back, as if he’d been burned. No, he didn’t really care that he’d accidentally dug through Marleau’s boxers, but with all of the ‘gay’ talk that night, he was a little on edge.

“Get out of my stuff, perv.” Marleau said, coming up beside Ilya and promptly pulling his shirt over his head, and stepping out of his pants. With Ilya still standing there. Right there. Like right next to a suddenly almost naked Marleau.

It was a perfect storm: alcohol, exhaustion, heartbreak, desperation. Ilya couldn’t help but let his eyes crawl up and down Marleau’s body.

He’d seen it before, in passing. Never paid it much mind. The same way he saw all his teammates' bodies: tools. He looked for injury or pain. But not beyond that. Not until now.

Marleau was kinda… hot?

Ilya’s face heated up, and he scrambled away, half heartedly scoffing. “Fuck off.”

He stood up and continued to watch, somewhat transfixed as Marleau reached down, his arms and legs flexing as he pushed clothes and shoes aside.

Ilya gulped.

New plan.

Marleau would get in bed, and fall asleep. Ilya would… shower, and by the time he was done, the room would be dark, and quiet. He wouldn’t have to answer any questions about where he was going.

Why he felt this particular urge, he didn’t know. It was something he did very often.

Was it Marleau? Being smaller, less muscular than another guy was also rare for Ilya. Maybe it woke something up in him.

Or maybe it was Hollander.

How jealous he was of Rose Landry. 

Or it could be how diametrically opposed this would be, compared to when he saw Hollander.

It didn’t really matter. The longer he looked at Marleau's mostly naked body, the more clear and urgent taking care of this urge became.

“Showering.” Ilya said, clipped. He turned without further explanation.

Marleau was clearly a little confused by this, but he took a second to process and reply. “You’re showering? Again?”

“Yep.” Ilya said. He paused, and turned back towards Marleau, maybe to say good night, or even offer an explanation for his repeated showers.

Except, Marleau had turned all the way around towards Ilya, and his cock was pressing up against the fabric of his boxers. Ilya didn’t trust his eyes not to flick down. He turned back to the bathroom as if he hadn’t turned at all.

This was the quickest he’d ever done it, but it would get the job done. 

He opened the bathroom door very slowly at first, but saw all the lights were off. Whew. He adjusted the towel loosely wrapped around his waist, and took the first tentative step outside.

Marleau flicked on the lamp on the bedside table as soon as he started to take his second.

“Jesus!” Ilya jumped. He shot Marleau a glare.

“Hey.” Marleau said, unaffected.

“Hey.” Ilya replied. OK, new plan. Go ‘to sleep’ long enough for Marleau to knock off, and sneak out. He pushed his annoyance down, and readjusting the towel. Marleau licked his lips. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Marleau glanced over at the other side of the bed, and said. “Oh, yeah.” Like he’d forgotten he could fall asleep in it.

“Well, good night.” Ilya said, suddenly feeling hot. He strode over to his suitcase, inconveniently placed right next to Marleau’s. Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“You going out?” Marleau asked, sitting up further on his bed.

Ilya looked at him from over his shoulder. He stood up, with furrowed brows, and started to put on a pyjama shirt.

“Why?” Ilya asked.

Marleau’s eyes flicked towards the bathroom. “You didn’t bring PJs.”

Ilya followed his line of sight. He shrugged, and continued to get dressed. “Forgot.” He said, simply. It wasn’t a lie. He probably should’ve brought clothes to change into, PJs or otherwise. He hadn’t really been thinking straight when he darted inside. Distracted. Obviously he didn’t plan to elaborate on what distracted him.

“I don’t think I was a good boyfriend.” Marleau blurted out. Ilya had gotten completely dressed, only putting on socks now. He looked up from where he stood on the other side of the room, on one foot trying to balance while he put a sock on.

“Uh, what?” Ilya said, like an idiot.

“To Cass.” Marleau murmured. He’d sounded strong if a little strained only a moment before. Now he nearly whispered.

“Uh, I don’t think that's true.” Ilya said. But he was unsure. If he’s being honest, he’d been a little disconnected from Marleau lately. So wrapped up in his own drama. He’d known Marleau and Cass were having issues, but everyone had issues. He assumed they’d work it out.

Apparently, Marleau had assumed that too.

“Well, I’m just thinking back. Y’know, with hindsight?” Marleaa said, eyes darting up to Ilya’s. “I just think there were things I could’ve done better.”

“That’s mature.” Ilya said. He hadn’t done that. He hadn’t even thought of doing that. Everything that went wrong was Hollander’s fault. He’s the one who freaked out. He’s the one who made Ilya want to make fucking tuna melts in the first place.

“Yeah. Better late than never, I guess.” Marleau sighs, resigned.

“This is… this is a good thing.” Ilya said. He was definitely fumbling this conversation. “You will know next time. You will not… repeat.”

“Yeah.” Marleau said. “I thought about that too. Uh, I just wish I’d thought of that… before. So I could be good to Cass all the time.”

“Mhm.” Ilya hummed. “Cass was great, and it sucks you broke up, but you cannot undue that.”

Fuck it, he was going to recover and give the best fucking pep talk ever. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of Marleau’s bed, right where his feet ended.

“You can only be better for the next one.” Ilya said. “And there will be a next one, you will be batting them away.”

Marleau rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“Yes!” Ilya said. “You’ll have no problem finding a new girlfriend. Or a girl. In general.” So this wasn’t Ilya’s best work. Sue him. He was heartbroken, either drunk or hungover, and hyperaware of his asshole. Obviously, this was not him operating at 100%.

“Roz.” Marleau deadpanned. “I only get swarmed by women when I go out with you.”

Ilya frowned. “I—” Except what was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t know what happened when Marleau went out without him, he wasn’t there. “That can’t be true. You are hot.”

“Oh?” Marleau’s eyebrows shot up, and Ilya balked. He actually stuttered over his own words in a way he hadn’t since he was a kid. And still he didn’t manage to get a single word in, somehow. Marleau took pity on him. “It’s OK, Roz. I know what you meant.”

“I, er. Yes.” Ilya said, trying to play it off. “I just have eyes, that's all.”

“Right.” Marleau said. “Seriously. Thanks, man. I think I needed that.”

Ilya nodded stiffly.

Marleau leaned back a bit, with a self satisfied smirk. “I’m still right though.”

Ilya’s eyes jumped up to his. “About what?”

“The lesbians.”

Ilya involuntarily rolled his eyes.

“Hey, hear me out!” Marleau exclaimed. “I’m not saying there are never problems in lesbian relationships, OK I’m not an idiot.”

“Debatable.” Ilya said.

Marleau flicked him in the side, and Ilya hissed away.

“As I was saying. There can be problems. Just not… this level of hurt. Like a woman wouldn’t hurt a woman like this. Or gay guys.”

Ilya frowned, but held his tongue.

“OK, just spit it out.” Marleau said, reading his face apparently. Knowing he was holding something back. Something he desperately wanted to let out.

“I do not think… gay people are happier than anyone else.” Ilya said, treading carefully. “They are not… magical. They’re just people. And they fuck up, and they hurt each other. This does not change, it does not matter what kind of people.”

He didn’t realise that his eyes had fallen to the comforter between them until he was done, and he suddenly wasn’t looking at Marleau anymore.

He looked up and found an expression he couldn’t read.

He finished. “It could be… a different sort of feeling though. But it’s always different.”

Marleau leaned forward, just a little. “It feels different.”

Ilya’s forehead wrinkles as he tries to process that sentence but before he’s finished, he looks up and finds Marleau leaning in and kissing him.

For a second, he does nothing at all. Just stays perfectly still, running it over in his head…

It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different. It feels different It feels different It feels different It feels different It feels different It feels different It It feels differen It feels differe It feels differ It feels diffe It feels diff It feels dif It feels di It feels d It feels It feel It fee It fe It f It I

He’s shocked out of his spiral by Marleau pulling away and immediately breaking into apologies. “Holy— I’m so sorry, that was— fuck. I thought, fuck I’m so sorry—”

Ilya cut him off by kissing him back. It did feel different. Slowly, Marleau leaned back onto the pillow of his bed, and Ilya followed, pulling his legs from where they hung over the side, chasing Marleau’s mouth.

When he was all the way back, and Ilya caught up, Marleau stopped him gently with a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, this is OK. Right?”

“Yes.” Ilya said, too eagerly, but he could be embarrassed later. Marleau did not look convinced underneath him. Well, he’d always been more of a hands-on learner.

They kissed slowly and unhurried, and eventually Ilya ended up sprawled across the hotel bed, with Marleau between his legs, pressing against him wherever he could.

For the first time in weeks, Ilya’s mind went perfectly, mercifully quiet. He deepened the kiss, and Marleau needed no more encouragement.

An uncharacteristic moan escaped his lips, but he pretended he’d meant to do that. He grabbed a handful of Marleau’s hair, tugging him closer, and did it again. Spurred on by this, Marleau dragged his hands up from his hips, and up his abdomen, underneath his shirt. Slowly, and indirectly, taking the shirt off as he went. Ilya had no complaints.

When the shirt was nearly off, bunched up at his armpits, Ilya broke away from the kiss. He finally got a good look at Marleau, who was borderline gasping for breath, while his eyes raked up and down Ilya’s body.

Ilya shrugged the shirt off in record time, and went to initiate the kiss, while one of his own hands started hiking Marleau’s shirt up, the other lazily pulling at the zipper of his jeans. But Marleau stopped him, pulled away, still breathing deeply.

“Roz…” Marleau said, uncertainty washing over him. Ilya’s stomach curdled. Now was a bad time for Marleau to be having second thoughts!

“What?” Ilya snapped, pushing back and away from Marleau too, a sour expression on his face.

Marleau seemed surprised by him jolting away, and his face softened. “No! Nothing’s wrong… I just.” Marleau gulped. “What do you want… to do?”

Right. Ilya had forgotten that this was probably Marleau’s first time with a man. Hell, it was probably his first time seeing anyone else’s dick up close.

“I want you to fuck me.” Ilya replied, and surged forward, kissing Marleau again.

Clearly, Marleau was reassured. Ilya made that observation after he all but ripped his pants off, pausing to tug his shirt over his head, only to return to Ilya. Kissing him, running his hands up and down the side of his ribs, then his arms. Tentatively, creeping towards the waist band of his sweats.

Ilya took mercy on him, and pulled them off himself, but this left them with a new problem. Marleau had never been here before, and if there was a point in this where things could go wrong, it’d be now.

Distracting him from how gay everything had just gotten, Ilya twisted, rolling Marleau on his back, and straddling him, but only for a second.

Before Marleau even had a chance to be surprised, Ilya was slowly kissing his pec, then lightly sucking on his nipple, and his hands roamed too. As he got lower, Marleau’s hand found the back of Ilya’s head, and fingers carded through his hair when he got to the band of Marleau’s boxers.

Reigning his hands in, fingers tugged the boxers down, freeing Marlau’s hard cock.

Ilya made a point of not looking in the showers. Usually this was not a struggle. Hockey players in general were not great at personal hygiene or grooming. All this to say, that it was the first time Ilya had really seen Marleau’s cock.

It was huge, actually. Notably. Ilya liked to brag, and he could certainly back it up, but he was exaggerating about the nine inches.

Now, he was tempted to go find a measuring tape.

Like, this could be a problem. He considered rescinding the offer he’d made, but inwardly cringed at the thought. He’d said what he’d do, goddamn he’d do it.

It wiggled, and Ilya realised he was inches away from it, staring, and doing nothing but breathing on it. 

Flicking his eyes up to meet Marleau’s, they were lidded but still intently watching. Ilya dragged his tongue from the base of his cock, all the way up to the tip. His hands stayed mostly where they were at his hips, but he pressed his palms down on either side, holding Marlau down.

He did it again, and Marleau squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back. Ilya couldn’t make it out, but he was muttering something too.

Without having to maintain eye contact, Ilya could really get to work now. He’d sucked large dicks before, but this would still be a challenge.

He took the head of it in his mouth, sucking gently and running his tongue across the skin. He waited till the fingers in his hair tightened their grip on his curls, to take the rest of it into his mouth. Or most of the rest of it. He had to pull one of the hands from Marleau’s hip, to cover the remainder which Ilya couldn’t fit inside.

As he bobbed up and down, Marleau got louder and louder, until Ilya could understand his mumbling. It was just a string of curses, mostly, the occasional ‘Roz’ which made Ilya suck harder.

Eventually the hand on the back of his head started pushing him down a little as he bobbed, then pulling him up, until Ilya wasn’t even really moving on his own, he was letting the hand control his head entirely.

He moved his other hand off Marleau’s hip, to hold himself up better, when all of a sudden Marleau’s suddenly free hips jolted upward, sending nearly the entirety of Marleau’s cock into Ilya’s mouth, and then throat.

And Ilya made a very loud, very embarrassing gagging noise. In a split second, Marleau had pulled out of his mouth, and gently lifted Ilya’s head up.

Through watering eyes, Ilya made eye contact with Marleau again.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok? Are you— did I hurt you?”

Ilya coughed once, and shook his head, waving Marleau off. “It’s fine, you just surprised me.”

Marleau seemed slightly astonished by Ilya’s response, but a moment later he was able to gather himself. “I didn’t mean to, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ilya said, and he searched for the words to reassure him, but Marleau quietly muttered, “It just felt so good.”

Ilya’s stomach lurched, and he started to bend back down, when Marleau caught him by the shoulder, stopping him. His eyes were still downcast as he said, “You don’t have to.”

And there was an out if he’d ever heard one. He glanced down at the enormous cock in front of him. Even if no one would ever find out about this, and Marleau would be the only other person to ever know… Ilya would know.

He glanced back up to Marleau’s face. “Can you come twice?”

Marleau blinked and nodded.

Ilya took him back into his mouth, but only went halfway down this time. Instead of covering the rest of Marleau’s cock with his hand, occasionally he held it up and licked down the side, while his other hand gently massaged his balls.

Ilya could definitely hear Marleau now.

After a few minutes of this, Ilya pulled off and didn’t wait for Marleau to catch his breath before blurting out. “When I tap your knee three times you can start doing that again.”

Marleau might’ve had further questions, but Ilya didn’t feel like elaborating on the mechanics of him fucking Ilya’s face.

Instead, he took him back into his mouth, and continued massaging his balls, effectively shutting Marleau up.

He relaxed his throat slowly, taking more and more of it into his mouth, making sure he could still breath through his nose, and keeping his teeth covered by his lips. A moment later, he took his hand away from Marleau’s balls, and tapped his hip three times.

Nothing happened for a second. Ilya still gently bobbed his head up and down, but he opened his eyes and saw Marleau’s wide eyed face. He held eye contact, relaxed his throat as much as he could, and went down further on his cock. Marleau’s hand was in his hair again, but more careful and tentative. Ilya reached back, laid his hand on the back of Marleau’s hand, and pushed his own head up and down. 

Finally, Marleau got the idea. He started pushing up and down of his own volition, until he had a hand on either side of Ilya’s head, and used both of them to pull Ilya’s head up and down on his cock.

Ilya had completely relaxed at this point. His gag reflex had been controlled, and he was getting close to the base of Marleau’s cock. Then, Marleau started thrusting his hips up, at the same time he pushed Ilya’s head down, suddenly completely filling Ilya’s throat, and pushing his nose into Marleau’s pubes.

He panicked for a split second, before remembering he could still breath through his nose. He took a deep breath, still lax enough for Marleau to continue, unknowingly.

It wasn’t long til Marleau’s hips started to stutter, thrusting up even faster than before, until he let out a shaking breath and said, “Fuck, I’m gonna— get off, fuck, I’m gonna—”

But Ilya didn’t get off. He slid his hands to Marleau’s hips, one going to his lower back, the other to the back of his upper thigh, holding Marleau in place, unable to pull out of Ilya’s mouth.

Marleau was so far back in his throat, that Ilya didn’t even taste the come. He only knew it’d happened when Marleau let out a strange choking noise, and Ilya filed that away to make fun of him for later. Except, he’d have to figure out how to explain why he knew what Marleau sounded like when he came.

He released his grip a moment later, and pulled off of him, letting his spent cock flop onto his stomach. He completely relaxed into the bed, and muttered, “Holy fuck.”

Ilya scoffed, rolling onto his back. “Yeah.”

“Have you done that before?” Marleau asked, lifting up his head to look over at Ilya.

Ilya’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“... You’re really good at it.” Marleau said quietly. 

The laugh Ilya let out after that, was entirely against his will, and he will deny it happened.

“Yes.” Ilya said, after he’d stopped snickering. When Marleau looked up at him with a question written on his face, Ilya clarified. “I’ve done that before.”

Marleau nodded. “So you’re gay?”

Ilya didn’t deign to reply to that. He glanced down at Marleau’s soft cock. “How long until you can come again?”

Marleau sputtered over his words, “I—I don’t know.” He looked down at Ilya’s boxers, still covering him, but his cock was clearly straining against the fabric. “Don’t you want me to… first?”

Huh. Ilya had assumed that would be too gay for him. He says as much, and Marleau just shrugged. “I’ll try anything once.”

So they start kissing again, this time lying down on their sides, one bracing against the bed, the other trailing over the expanse of each other’s chest and hips, until Marleau ventures to Ilya’s waist, pushing his boxers down. Ilya helps him, and a moment later, his cock springs free.

Ilya isn’t exactly sure what ‘trying something’ means. He’s not sure Marleau is ready to blow him, but he doesn’t want to discourage anything either. So, he sort of just lets him do whatever, responding as best he can to Marleau’s moves.

And Marleau seemed keen to jump right into it, only a moment after Ilya’s cock hit the cold air, his hand wrapped around it, stroking up and down. Ilya let out a surprised gasp, that Marleau swallows up with a kiss.

They lay there for a moment, together. Marleau worked his cock up and down, Ilya’s hand pressing against his chest, trying not to sound too eager. When suddenly he pulls away, and Ilya has to stop him from trying to follow.

He pulls his hand from Ilya’s cock, which is unfortunate, but he brings it right up to where their mouths are, and holds his palm open in front of Ilya.

“Spit.” He said, breathlessly. Ilya didn’t need to be told twice. He gathered as much spit into his mouth as he could before following directions, with his eyes glued to Marleau’s.

As quickly as it came up, Marleau's hand was back around his cock, this time moving even faster, with the extra lubrication. Ilya couldn’t hold back his moans anymore, ducking his head forward. Marleau pulled him closer, letting his dick press against his thighs as he jerked him off.

“Uh— fuck.” Ilya gasped, feeling embarrassingly close to finishing.

Then Marleau, who had apparently never touched another cock in his life, started running his thumb right underneath the head of his cock, making Ilya want to fold over even more. It was so sensitive that he almost wanted to jerk away, to escape the stimulation.

But Marleau had a tight grip on him, and as he held him closer, pressed to his body, he murmured. “Sound so fucking good, Captain.”

Ilya did not realise that would do something for him, until he was very suddenly coming all over Marleau’s closed fist, even as he continued to jerk him. His hips stuttered, and while Marleau seemed surprised, he went along quickly, finishing Ilya off.

And then it was quiet, the room filled only with the sound of heavy breathing. Both of them flopped on the bed, Ilya reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing a couple tissues. In the silence, he handed a few of them to Marleau, before starting to wipe himself.

“So the Captain thing got you, huh?” Marleau said eventually, and Ilya wasn’t looking at him, but he could hear the shit eating grin.

“Fuck off.” Ilya said. But he was smiling too. “I think it was mostly the hand on my dick, but sure.”

“You should’ve heard yourself.” Marleau continued, like Ilya hadn’t said anything. Ilya flushed slightly, glad Marleau wasn’t looking at him either. He didn’t remember making too much noise, but now he desperately searched his memory for an embarrassing moan.

Luckily, Marleau was more than happy to fill him in, moments later he let out a very high pitched, whiny moaning noise that sounded more like he was dying. Ilya reached back behind his head, grabbed a pillow and thwacked Marleau in the chest, cutting off his impression.

“Hey!” Marleau said, grabbing Ilya’s wrist when he tried to bring the pillow back down, “Hey— hold on!” He flipped onto his stomach, keeping a grip on Ilya, and forcing his hand back. He crawled closer, grabbing the other wrist, and pinning it down too. Ilya let him.

And then he was over Ilya, his body caging him, weight pressing him into the mattress. He didn’t bend down, or even kiss Ilya, instead he seemed content to let his eyes rake up and down his naked body instead.

Ilya was about to ask what his problem was, when Marleau finally did bend down slightly, and whispered, “Do you really want to… y’know?”

Ilya inhaled. He did. Isn’t that crazy, he thought to himself, but he actually really did. In for a penny, in for a pounding, or whatever that saying was.

Ilya let his own eyes trail up and down Marleau, making sure he noticed. When he came back up to Marleau’s face, he exhaled. “Yeah. Yes. I want it.”

Marleau seemingly subconsciously, licked his lips and kissed him, going from posting up on his hands to his elbows, grinding his hips and cock against Ilya’s, both of them hardening quickly.

Ilya was still a little sensitive, but he didn’t jolt away. His hands found Marleau’s back, and he gently dragged his fingers from his shoulder blades, to his waist, pressing the soft part of his fingers in.

Marleau pulled away, all business now. “Turn over.”

Ilya gave him a look. He’d been expecting to take the lead on this next part. Marleau gave him a look right back. “I’ve done anal before.”

This didn’t shock Ilya. “It’s different.” Ilya replied. “I’m not a girl.”

“How different could it be?” Marleau said, with one hand he started to turn Ilya over onto his stomach, and Ilya went. “Why don’t you let me try, and jump in if you have any suggestions.”

Ilya scoffed, suddenly shy, on his stomach with his ass exposed. It didn’t help that Marleau had pulled away to grab a pillow, and he effortlessly lifted Ilya’s hips like he weighed nothing, then pushed him back down with the pillow under him, angling his hole upwards.

Marleau settled behind him, hands mostly playing with the fat of his ass. It felt good, but it wasn’t doing too much for Ilya except giving him time to worry. He looked over his shoulder, with an arched eyebrow.

“I was just gonna ask…” Marleau said. “Do you need time to go… clean up?”

Now, Ilya was really glad that Marleau couldn’t see his face because he’s pretty sure it turned bright red. He turned back and said, “No. I’m good.”

Marleau’s hands stopped. “You’re good?”

“Yes.” Ilya said. Not expanding.

“I don’t— when did you do that?”

“Earlier, now are you going to do something about it?” Ilya snapped.

Marleau abandoned his line of questioning after that, one finger circled his hole and Ilya took a sharp inhale. Marleau must’ve grabbed the lube when Ilya wasn’t looking because his finger was slick and soft, as he pressed around and traced the skin near his ass. He was back to muttering but Ilya was so out of his own head, he couldn’t even try to understand.

He did his best not to clench when Marleau finally pressed the finger in, but he didn’t quite manage. A hand at his lower back appeared, gently rubbing his thumb against his lower hip. Ilya was also pretty sure Marleau was shushing him like a horse. It worked though, he relaxed slightly, letting the finger get deeper.

Both of them seemed to be trying to muffle any noises they were making, Ilya biting down on his own tongue, as Marleau worked that finger, then another into his whole. Eventually, he got both of them in all the way to the knuckle, and he started scissoring them apart. That’s around when Ilya gave up trying to be quiet, after a particularly loud whimper came out of his mouth involuntarily.

He had no choice but to pretend it was completely intentional, and keep doing it. Marleau took that as permission to make his own noises, mostly a running commentary.

Ilya finally managed to tune it, but it only made him feel more out of his mind.

“Fuck, so fucking tight.” Marleau grunted, his fingers all the way inside, he was running them up and down the inside of Ilya’s walls. “Look so good like this. Jesus.”

If Ilya started rocking backwards, pushing Marleau’s fingers even deeper, then that was neither here nor there.

A third finger pressed alongside the first two, and for the first time Ilya felt a genuine stretch. He gritted his teeth, but didn’t stop rocking back. It went the rest of the way more easily, and soon he was taking all three fingers.

As amazed as Ilya was that he’d managed, Marleau was even more shocked, and he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Holy shit, you feel so fucking good.” Marleau moaned. The hand on his back disappeared, and Ilya didn’t have to turn over to guess that Marleau was jerking himself to the sight of Ilya’s hole stretched around his fingers.

He rocked back again, taking all three to the knuckle when Marleau cursed again, “Ilya, you’re killing me. So fucking hot.”

Ilya jolted forward like he’d been burned. The fingers were nearly completely out of him, and Marleau pulled them out the rest of the way. He quickly leaned around Ilya’s body so they were face to face.

“Shit, did that hurt?” Marleau asked, scanning Ilya’s face, for pain he supposed. “Fuck, sorry. I can go back to two.”

Ilya blinked, scanning Marleau’s face for signs of a joke. He didn’t find any, and was left with nothing to say except, “You called me Ilya.”

Marleau’s brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

“I don’t—” Ilya gulped, unsure how to proceed.

After a moment, he seemed to understand what Ilya was getting at, if the incredulous look he gave Ilya was anything to go by. “I just finger fucked your asshole. I think we’re on a first name basis.”

And Ilya didn’t even fight the laugh that time, head hitting the pillow in front of him as he laughed the hardest he’d laughed in a long time, Cliff right beside him, joining in.

They collected themselves, mostly, after a moment, and Cliff, still grinning said. “I don’t have to call you that. Whatever you want, I just…”

He trailed off uncertainly, and Ilya knew he needed to nip that right in the bud. “No, call me Ilya.” He said, possibly a little too quickly, too eagerly.

He was embarrassed for a split second, before Cliff smirked. “Oh? Just Ilya?” He didn’t give Ilya a chance to reply, suddenly closing in on him again, this time draped over his body, cock pressing against his cheeks, and his enormous arms on either side of his head.

Ilya gulped.

As Cliff left a trail of open mouths kissed from behind his ear, and down his neck, pausing to whisper, “What about Captain?”

Ilya shivered, and Cliff continued, mouth tracing the curve of his shoulder, before returning to the center of his back and following his spine, till he was right back where he started. Ilya wiggled impatiently, ready for Cliff’s fingers.

But Cliff didn’t start again, instead he went back to squeezing and releasing Ilya’s ass cheeks.

Ilya looked over his shoulder a second, about to ask Cliff to move along, when he saw a troubled expression on Cliff's face.

“Cliff?” Ilya asked tentatively. Cliff’s eyes shot up to meet Ilya’s. “You OK?”

Cliff opened his mouth to say something, closed it, then blurted out, “Can I eat you out?”

Ilya’s eyes widened comically, and he could hear Cliff backtracking, but he interrupted. “Yes, fuck. Cliff, please. Please eat me out, fucking please—”

Then Cliff returned the favour, interrupting him but unceremoniously spreading his cheeks with either palm, and immediately pressing his tongue to Ilya’s hole.

Ilya howled. Another thing that he would later deny.

At that point though, he didn’t care. He didn’t care when he got even louder, and Cliff started to lick and suck the skin at his hole, and then the skin around it, and he isn’t even sure how to categorize the noise he made when Cliff pressed the tip of his tongue against his sphincter, harder, before managing to press in.

As much as he tried to wiggle free, Cliff’s hands gripped Ilya’s cheeks, holding him there as he fucked his tounge in and out.

Ilya was pretty sure Cliff spent half an hour just doing that, or at least that’s how long he felt he lasted before he started babbling to himself and Cliff.

“Jesus,” He huffed, still trying to move and failing as Cliff held him down. His tongue pulled out, only for him to start pressing kisses to the inside of his thoughts, then returning to his hole licking in and around it. “Oh, fuck. Cliff. Holy fu— fuck me, I’m ready, please fuck me.”

And Cliff ceased all activities immediately, letting go of Ilya’s ass even, finally letting him jolt forward away from the assault of his tongue.

“Seriously?” Cliff said, and Ilya wasn’t even sure what he meant. He hadn’t been one hundred percent lucid when he was rambling just then. Thankfully, Cliff clarified. “You’re ready?”

Ready as he’d ever be.

Ilya nodded, pressing his hips back, and letting his chest rest entirely on the bed to his ass was basically on display. He wondered how it looked now, loosened up and shiny from Cliff’s spit. He shuddered at the thought.

Then, strangely, Cliff got off the bed. Ilya looked up at him, to find him digging through his bags.

“Cliff?” Ilya said.

“Condom.” Cliff replied, shutting one bag with a huff, before shoving his hand into the one next to it, digging through the contents.

Ilya left him for a moment. The longer Cliff looked, the longer Ilya had for his mind to wander. And that had never ended well.

“You got a physical done?” Ilya blurted out. Cliff looked over at him. “At the beginning of the season?”

Cliff nodded.

“Clean?”

Cliff nodded.

“Me too.”

Blank face, possibly confused, Cliff just stared at him.

“You haven’t fucked anyone without a condom since you got tested?”

Cliff shook his head.

“OK.” Ilya said, still waiting for Cliff to acknowledge what Ilya was getting at. After a moment it seemed apparent Cliff would not get there on his own. “So we don’t need a condom. Unless you want one which is—”

“Fuck no, I don’t want a condom.” And for a big guy, he managed to launch himself over the bags and back onto the bed with surprising agility. He didn’t waste any time sitting behind Ilya again, turning his head with one hand and pressing open mouth kisses to his neck and lips, the other hand grabbing as much of Ilya’s ass as he could fit. “You’re gonna fucking kill me, Captain, fuck so fucking hot.”

Ilya keened, and at this point he should just make Cliff sign an NDA covering the entire night, there was too much that could never leave this room.

Fingers found their way back to his rim, now able to push in easily, stretch his hole open and closed, aided by the looser muscle and Cliff’s spit. 

Still, he poured a generous amount of lube into his hand, and spread it all over his cock. Ilya stretched forward again, letting all his weight rest on his chest and shoulders, currently pressed into the mattress.

Two huge hands took a hold of Ilya’s hips, thumbs rubbing up and down soothingly. Then he felt a big blunt pressure on his hole, and did everything in his power not to clench.

He isn’t sure how much he succeeded, because either way it didn’t matter, after slight pressure, the muscle of his hole gave way immediately, and the head of Cliff’s cock slid inside.

Ilya yelped and the thumbs on his back pressed down hard, as Cliff slowly continued to slide inside, still mumbling to himself. “Oh god, oh, oh my god. So tight on my cock, Captain, you feel so fucking good.”

Ilya involuntarily clenched down on Cliff’s cock at his words, in turn making Cliff gasp, and jolted forward sending even more of his cock inside. The pressure felt good, but he hadn’t quite found the right angle yet. Ilya shifted slowly trying to find it for him.

He mostly waited though, as Cliff very slowly but steadily pressed his cock further and further into Ilya’s ass. After a bit Ilya gasped, “Is it… fuck, is it almost in?”

Cliff paused a second, before he said. “...yes?”

Ilya shifted to one side, putting his weight on one arm, and reaching back and immediately finding Cliff’s cock buried in his ass. After a moment of feeling around blindly, he managed to figure out what he was feeling.

“Jesus!” Ilya exclaimed, “That’s only half?”

He was pretty sure that Cliff had already rearranged some of his internal organs.

Then Cliff very apologetically mumbled, “Sorry.”

Ilya sighed. “It’s OK, just do it.”

Cliff did nothing.

Ilya waited for him to get with the program.

“Just do it?” Cliff repeated, “Like the whole thing? All at once.”

Ilya nodded. “Don’t even tell me. Just rip the bandaid off, I don’t want to—” Ilya choked on his words, and spat out, “Oh fuck!” As Cliff thrusted in, finally sliding home.

He paused there which he probably thought was giving Ilya a chance to adjust, but really it was just keeping that huge cock, in the deepest part, past where he thought he could feel anything. And as much as he tried to stay still, Cliff was unconsciously grinding his cock further, his pelvis flat against the back of Ilya’s thighs, his hand had moved from his hips back to his cheeks, grasping them between his fingers and using them to hold him there.

Ilya cried out something that wasn’t words.

By sheer force of mass, it was impossible for Cliff to thrust all the way in without hitting Ilya’s prostate, a fact that Ilya had just now become aware of. And because he was just staying there, he wasn’t getting a break from that situation even for a second.

For that reason, as soon as he regained his voice, he stuttered out, “Move.”

Cliff complied immediately, slowly gliding backwards, till just the tip was inside, stretching Ilya’s rim, only to press right back in not hesitating for a second. He didn’t let up on his grip, now not just holding Ilya in place, but rocking Ilya backwards onto his cock.

And all he could do at that point was take it, his hands stretching out in front of him were barely capable of holding onto the sheets, his legs had folded forward, now pressing his cock against the mattress and leaving nowhere for his body to go when Cliff thrust forward.

“That's it.” Cliff muttered, eyes locked on Ilya’s stretched rim, where his cock slid in and out. “You take it so fucking good, Cap. Feels so good, so hot and wet.”

Ilya internally burned at the comment, but the rest of his body didn’t seem to have a problem with it. His hole clenched up, and his dick twitched against the mattress, spurring Cliff on.

“God, had no idea you were so good at taking it, jesus fuck.” Cliff said, breaking up his rhythm of slow deep thrusts, to very quickly jolt in and out, surprising Ilya. “Imagine if the team could see this. See you. Taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

That was Ilya’s worst nightmare, but in that moment it made him whine and thrust backwards as best he could.

And then he felt an unfamiliar stirring in his chest, that he only then recognized as an oncoming orgasm. It jolted him from his pleasure. There was no fucking way, he was going to come without even a hand on his dick, while getting railed from behind.

He arched up, Cliff’s grip on him releasing when he felt Ilya push against it. He looked back at his shoulder and found an unfamiliarly debauched Cliff, but not an unwelcome one.

Wordlessly, he turned all the way, keeping his legs spread around Cliff. When he was comfortably on his back, and a pillow angling him up, Cliff leaned back over and pressed back inside.

So that might’ve been a mistake. If he thought having Cliff pull him back onto his cock was hot, having Cliff hike both of his legs onto his shoulders, before leaning down bending him in half until he was able to press a kiss to his lips, was even worse.

Ilya didn’t even realise he was moaning outloud, with one hand holding up his own ankle so Cliff would have better access to his hole, the other gripping Cliff’s shoulder blade, pressing his nails into Cliff’s skin. He wouldn’t even remember to be embarrassed about that later.

“Oh god.” Cliff muttered, voice half gone. The slap of his skin against Ilya’s was the only other thing they could hear, if you didn’t hear the quiet squelch of lube around Cliff’s cock as he thrust in and out. “Fuck, holy fuck.”

Ilya had purposefully thrown his head back so he didn’t have to look into Cliff’s eyes as he pounded him, but he’s pretty sure it would’ve gone back anyways as Cliff was hitting his prostate more than he was at this point.

“Cliff, fuck. Right there, oh my god, right there.” He gasped. He didn’t know where that had come from.

“Yeah, say my fucking name.” Cliff grunted. His hands came to the back of each of Ilya’s knees, bending him further and holding him there, but not leaning forward himself. From here, he basically held Ilya’s legs open so he had the best possible angle to fuck him.

Ilya didn’t mind apparently, and he also didn’t mind being given instructions, gladly moaning as Cliff continued to thrust. “Uh… uh… uh. Oh, fuck Cliff. Oh my… ah… ah… ah.”

“Gonna feel this at practice, huh?” Cliff said, He’d managed to identify the exact right angle that made Ilya’s face scrunch up just as his hole sucked him in harder. “Captain of the team, limping on the ice. Too sore from my cock.”

Ilya’s legs started shaking.

“You like that?” Cliff said, finally bridging the distance between them, his lips inches away from Ilya’s. “You like my cock fucking your ass?”

Ilya sort of nodded, but half heartedly. Cliff grunted, fucking forward harder and faster, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes!” Ilya cried out, now trying to grab his ankle again, and hoist his leg up higher.

But Cliff wasn’t satisfied. “Yes, what?”

“I like your cock fucking my ass.” Ilya slurred, the thrust not slowing down or easing up. “I love your cock, uh.. uh.. uh.. feels.. uh.. so fucking good… don’t stop.. uh.. uh.. please, fuck.”

That was the correct answer, because now with single minded focus, Cliff attempted to nail Ilya’s prostate with every single thrust, intent on making him come first.

Ilya privately thought that at least, but Cliff confirmed it moments later. “Love your ass, so fucking much. Need you to come on my cock, need to feel you clench on me.”

Ilya gasped again, whether the cock ramming his prostate, or the words, edged him that much closer.

“Go on, Captain. Come on my cock, just from getting fucked.” Cliff grunted, and Ilya realised that his entire reason for getting on his back was so he could stroke himself, except Cliff hiking his legs up, kept his arms up too, and he still hadn’t even gotten a hand on it. Yet he was this close to coming anyway.

The thought sent an extra long shudder through him, as he realised, Cliff was right. He was building to an orgasm, just from Cliff fucking his hole. The thought may just have been what tipped him over the edge, crying out, nailing digging into Cliff’s back, legs squeezing shut as best they could, and his hole rhythmically clenching and releasing as the orgasm that seemed to spread from in his ass where Cliff was still pounding him, all the way up his spine and through the rest of his limbs.

He didn’t need to ask Cliff’s thoughts, because he was already sharing them.

“Holy fuck. You’re fucking— oh shit, you’re gripping my cock, oh my god.” Cliff said, only lasting a few more thrusts before burying himself all the way, then grinding forward a little more. The action battered Ilya’s prostate a few more times, and he also let out a few more spurts of come.

He collapsed, stretching Ilya’s legs back even further. Ilya had to grunt and sort of nudge Cliff with his head. “Hey.”

“Ungh.” Cliff replied.

It was kind of cute, except his cock was still inside of him twitching, and he could feel something dripping out of him from around Cliff’s cock, whether it be lube or come. Didn’t matter, felt weird either way.

“Can you…” Ilya said, when he regained his bearings. Cliff complied right away, slowly pushing up against the mattress, and gently pulling his cock free of Ilya’s hole.

Ilya expected to leave it there, except when he tried to put his legs down, Cliff stopped him, holding both ankles with one of his huge hands. The other hand stayed near Ilya, gently tugging at his rim.

Now he could definitely feel it leaking out of him, and he didn’t like it.

“Cliff.” He said, but he didn’t get Cliff’s attention. “Marleau.”

That did get his attention but only for a second. His eyes snapped up to Ilya’s but they went right back down. “Sorry…” Cliff muttered, “...but you’re gaping.”

Ilya’s eyebrow furrowed. “I am not.”

He pressed his hand to his own hole where Cliff’s hand was, fingers pushing the escaping come back inside him. And there he found an asshole that was indeed gaping.

“Jesus.” Ilya muttered, mostly lost in his exhale. He would feel this at practice.

“So fucking hot.” Cliff muttered. 

And sure, it was pretty hot. But it was also presenting some problems. He wasn’t the most experienced at bottoming, and he’d never heard of this issue before. Another problem? Cliff still hadn’t let his legs down, or stopped pulling at his rim.

“Hey—” Ilya started.

“Can I—” Cliff said at the same time, both interrupting each other, and then snapping their mouths shut.

Cliff looked so hesitant and shy, Ilya resisted the urge to roll his eyes. How the fuck was he meek now? He was literally staring at his come drip out of Ilya’s ass.

“What?” Ilya asked.

“I want to… we don’t have to, but…” Cliff started, still unsure of himself. His eyes flicked from Ilya’s face, and back down to where two fingers scissored him open, letting come leak out, only to collect it and push it back inside.

“Cliff?” Ilya said, trying not to react to the fingers on his now sensitive hole, or sound impatient.

“I like cleaning it up.” Cliff said clipped and fast. He looked down at his fingers again.

“Ok.” Ilya said. “Go get a towel.”

“No.” Cliff said. “I mean, I like to clean it. Myself.”

Ilya blinked. Processing. Processing. “Oh.”

“Can I?” Cliff said, and now Ilya recognized that Cliff may not have been shy before, but instead was putting a lot of effort into holding himself back, and his ability to do so was wearing thin.

Fuck. Holy shit Ilya was going to regret this.

He couldn’t even get the word out, just nodded, but Cliff needed no more permission.

In a split second, he’d ducked down, and let the back of Ilya’s thighs rest on his shoulders. His hands came around and held the other side of his thighs flush against him, keeping him there.

Ilya waited. And waited. Nothing. He tested Cliff’s grip, trying to wiggle his hips away, but found no give.

“Shhh.” Cliff said. “Hold on.”

“Hold on?” Ilya said, lifting his head to look down. Sure enough Cliff was in position, on his stomach, mouth inches from Ilya’s hole, hands gripping his thighs… doing nothing.

“I’m watching.” Cliff muttered.

Ilya gulped, and realized Cliff wasn’t gently pushing his come back into Ilya anymore, but was instead watching intently as it steadily dripped from his gaping hole. His head snapped back, hitting the pillow hard, and he clenched his jaw not to make a sound. 

The longer he waited, the more he could feel the viscous liquid drip, out of him, down his cheeks and thighs, pooling underneath him. He was also steadily regaining the ability to think, and therefore feel embarrassment, which was quickly becoming overwhelming.

“I thought you said you were going to clean it.” Ilya gritted out. “You’re making a mess.”

“You’re making a mess.” Cliff corrected. “And I will clean it. All of it.” Ilya could feel his hot breath on his thighs, and hole, his head jolted back a second time. Jesus fuck if Cliff didn’t—

Without warning, a tongue caught the latest drip of come as it tried to escape, licking it partially back inside Ilya and partially up into Cliff’s mouth.

“Oh fuck.” Ilya gasped, his legs clenched and his hips tried to escape, but Cliff’s grip was strong.

He couldn’t move his hips or legs, and he found it hard to even try and prop himself up on his elbows, because every time he shifted, Cliff licked another long strip of his skin.

First right under his balls, then light kisses to his thighs, before ducking down as low as he could, and as he promised, licking up any come that had escaped as best he could, even as it dripped in between his cheeks.

“Ah— fuck, Cliff—” Ilya muttered, mostly to himself.

“Yeah?” Cliff answered, and Ilya tried not to express his shock that Cliff had even heard that. “You like it?”

“Uh— fucking yes.” Ilya said, annoyed again. “Clearly.”

Cliff licked him again, lapping up all of the comets he could find.

Ilya thought he was done, but Cliff was as full of surprises as Ilya was full of come.

Once again, no warning, Cliff pressed his mouth flush to Ilya’s asshole, and instead of licking he started sucking.

Ilya’s sure he must’ve made some sort of noise, he felt like he did, but he couldn’t actually hear anything. 

His hands shot down, finding the back of Cliff’s head. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to push Cliff down further or pull him off but he found himself suddenly too weak to do either. All he could manage was to grip Cliff’s head by his hair, and hold on.

When Cliff had apparently sucked all he could, he started thrusting his tongue in and out, licking the rest clean from the inside.

“Oh my god, please Cliff.” Ilya panted, “Jesus.”

If he hadn’t already come twice in a span of an hour, he’d be hard as a rock against

Cliff kept up the assault a bit longer, although slower and less intense. By the end he lazily lapped at Ilya’s skin, before he finally pulled away and wiped his mouth, letting Ilya’s legs drop, finally.

“You taste good.” Cliff said, when they made eye contact. 

“Jesus.” Ilya said again, breathing heavily. 

“You still want me to… actually clean you?” Cliff said, glancing over at the bathroom.

Ilya nodded wordlessly, and draped an arm over his eyes when Cliff got up to get a towel.

It didn’t take long until his thundering footsteps approached the bed again, and Ilya kept his arm where it was, even as Cliff gently ran a warm damp cloth over his legs and thighs, with extra care around his hole.

Ilya only opened them when he was done, sighing and bracing himself for the inevitable, intensely awkward conversation they were about to have.

The first thing he noticed was Cliff sitting at the edge of the bed, not looking awkward or panicked at all. The second thing he noticed was that Cliff was hard, again.

“Are you…” Ilya glanced down at Cliff’s cock. Cliff glanced down too, like he hadn’t noticed.

“Oh!” Cliff exclaimed. “Uh, yeah. No worries.”

Ilya blinked, “How?” 

Cliff shrugged. “Stamina.”

“That’s not—” how does that work? Possible? Medically healthy? 

“Hey, seriously.” Cliff said, raising his palms up, "We don’t have to.”

Ilya didn’t fully get what Cliff was trying to say for about thirty seconds, but when he did, his jaw dropped. Did he think Ilya wanted to him to fuck him again?

He stared at Cliff incredulously, still naked, and hard, his mouth still wet. All that time spent cleaning Ilya, he’d neglected to clean himself up at all, and his cock was still shiny and sticky with lube and come.

Ilya’s dick twitched. It didn’t get hard, he wasn’t a freak. But it moved.

They both noticed.

“Huh,” Cliff commented. He wiggled his eye brows. “Unless you really want to.”

He was kidding, Ilya could tell. Was Ilya?

“You could…” Ilya started, English escaped him at the moment. Hell, words in any language escaped him. “Slowly?”

Cliff’s eyes darkened. “What?”

“You could go slow?”

“I could— fuck, yeah of course.” Cliff said, fumbling to get back on the bed where Ilya laid. 

Again, Ilya expected some sort of awkward pause or acknowledgment of how ridiculous this was, but Cliff barreled through before there was a chance.

Cliff’s lips found his like they hadn’t left, but now a little wetter, and stickier. It made Ilya groan into his mouth.

Their hands roamed each other, Ilya mostly running up and down Cliff’s arms and chest, while Ilya felt hands gripping his thighs, and hips.

Silently, Cliff moved him so he was lying on one side, his top leg splayed forward, bracing him, the other stretched back, tangled with Cliff’s legs. Normally, Ilya would resent the manhandling but in that moment, he let himself enjoy it.

Cliff shifted so he was behind him, and snaked the arm he was laying on underneath Ilya’s neck, before wrapping it around and clasping his opposite shoulder, holding Ilya’s back flush to his chest.

His other hand ventured lower, squeezing the meat of Ilya’s ass and thighs before he gently rubbed his hand up and down his crack. Ilya inhaled sharply, about to interject, when Cliff reached his destination, two fingers gently fucking his hole.

“You don’t— fuck— I don’t—” Ilya said breathily.

“So loose.” Cliff muttered, and Ilya was glad he was facing away, so Cliff couldn’t see how he flushed.

“I think I’m good.” Ilya managed to say, after a few moments of Cliff’s fingers pumping in and out of him.

Cliff paused. “Nah.”

He pulled his fingers out of Ilya and leaned back to grab the lube from the bedside table, and when Ilya started to protest he interrupted. “Can’t hurt.”

So Ilya waited, first while he heard the lube bottle click open, and Cliff clumsily tried to slick his cock with one hand, the other still gripping Ilya’s shoulder and chest. Then, when he much more gracefully pushed Ilya further so he was nearly lying on his stomach, exposing his hole.

He decided not to think about how Cliff didn’t have to use a hand to open him up, he just held the lube bottle above his hole and let it drip right in. He did think about how fucking cold the lube was, and when he hissed and jerked away, Cliff said, “Oh shit, sorry sorry.”

Ilya threw a narrow eyed look over his shoulder, but Cliff just tossed the bottle behind him and resumed his slowly finger fucking, distracting Ilya from the cold.

“Oh, god.” Ilya said, after a few moments of that. Cliff had gotten three fingers in at that point, but only up to the second knuckle. “Can you just— uh, uh, fuck.”

“What?” Cliff said, slowing his fingers from a steady thrusting to a slower but deeper rhythm, rubbing on the walls of his hole. “Can I do what?” Cliff repeated himself, when Ilya choked on his words.

“Fuck me.” Ilya said through a clenched jaw.

“Again?” Cliff replied, clearly enjoying himself.

“Yes.” Ilya said, doing his best to thrust back on his fingers now. Cliff stopped that quickly, his hand pulling out and readjusting so he was gripping Ilya’s hip.

“Well, if you insist.” He said, and Ilya didn’t have a chance to retort, because Cliff briefly pulled his hand from Ilya’s hip, to guide his cock back in, slowly but not stopping to let Ilya adjust this time.

Now he kept a consistent and strong pace. Ilya was being hugged from the back, unable to move along with Cliff, or to try and move to relieve the assault on his hole

“Ah, ah, ah— Cliff, jesus—” Ilya said. He felt so pliant. His head, his body. Like he couldn't help but mumble out every single thing that went through his mind. “Yes, right there. Fuck— feels so fucking big.”

Cliff, who’d been doing nothing but talk all night, just leaned closer to Ilya’s ear, and whispered, “You’re wetter.” Before he started trailing kisses from right under his ear to the dip of his neck, sucking and licking him as he went.

Ilya arched back so hard, he actually managed to break Cliff’s grip a little, and fuck himself back on his cock. 

Cliff’s hand, the one still not holding him across the chest, shot down to Ilya’s hip, and held him more firmly in place. “Hey!” Cliff barked. “You’re taking what I give you. That’s it.”

He furthered his point with a few extra hard, extra fast thrusts, sending Ilya more on his stomach, with his hole open between his crossed legs. Cliff adjusted his own legs, more like he was behind Ilya than beside him laying down.

From this position, he was able to hit a new angle in Ilya. It wasn’t any harder or closer to his prostate, but it felt much deeper. Much much deeper. Like he didn’t know he was able to feel that deep inside him, until Cliff had started fucking into him there.

He mostly tuned out his own moans at this point, but one wail managed to break through. He cringed and clenched at the same time, confused about whether he was embarrassed or turned on at this point.

Cliff hiked his top leg up, so Ilya’s knee was touching his own shoulder. Then Cliff angled even more to the side, hitting an entirely new spot, making Ilya wail.

He couldn’t help but hear it, once again, breaking his concentration, and then Cliff’s muttering broke through as well.

At first he didn’t quite understand, it didn’t make sense, what did he mean mouth—

“God, you’re fucking sucking my cock, Cap.” Cliff said, grunting with every thrust forward, hands wrapped around Ilya’s waist. “Just like your mouth, wet and hot— fuck, take it, take my cock. Just like that.”

Ilya involuntarily clenched, making Cliff stutter forward, his cock jerking deeper. Ilya groaned as a familiar wave of pleasure rolled over him again. This time the tension in his stomach was tighter, and muscles all over his body tensed and untensed over and over again.

“Oh, god. Ilya!” He could hear Cliff thrust forward hard, and stay there grinding their bodies together, but after that he couldn’t really hear or feel anything at all.

A moment later, he felt Cliff pull out, and this time he didn’t both try to clench his hole shut, instead he the muscles all over his body relax, as he melted into the bed.

A splash of come on his back jolted him from tranquility, short after that.

Ilya jerked his head backwards over his shoulder, to find Cliff holding his cheeks over, exposing his hole, and continuing to jerk his cock over Ilya.

“Cliff?” Ilya muttered, still pretty relaxed after all from how fucked up his voice sounded.

“Yeah— uh, fuck.” Cliff said, another couple of drops hit Ilya’s lower back. He looked up at Ilya. “Yeah?”

“Why didn’t—” Ilya started, before cutting himself off. “You didn’t come in me.”

Cliff gave him the most bewildered, baffled , shocked expression Ilya had ever seen. His eyes flicked from Ilya’s down to Ilya’s hole, and back up again. “Well… I’d have to clean it out again.” Cliff gulped. “And then… I mean we could be here all night.”

And Ilya wouldn’t know whether his stomach hurt so much the next day, only that it was either from clenching so hard when he came, or the deep belly laugh that Ilya couldn’t help but let out after Cliff said that.

They took showers, separately. Ilya went first, while Cliff laid on the still made, unused bed. It appeared they’d be sharing that bed, seeing as neither of them wanted to sleep on a wet spot.

When they switched, Cliff teased Ilya as normal. Ilya sniped back. It was fun. Ilya’s stomach clenched uncomfortably, waiting for it to go wrong. For Cliff to freak. For it to be weird.

He wasn’t asleep when Cliff got out of the shower and into the bed next to him, but he pretended to be.

He continued to pretend to be asleep when an arm gently draped itself over the curve of his waist, even though it was warm and he wanted to curl into it.

But Cliff really wanted to talk apparently. Never a good sign.

“Hey.” Cliff whispered. Shaking Ilya slightly, after moving his arm from his waist to his forehead.

Ilya still pretends. Not moving at all, eyes gently shut. But Cliff kept going. A really bad sign. 

This was probably the very last conversation Ilya wanted to have, in this hotel room, feeling sick from the alcohol, sore all over his body, and so tired he might fall asleep if he blinked too long.

“Hm—what?” Ilya said after another few moments of this, until he couldn’t take it.

“Hey.” Cliff said, leaned in so he was close to Ilya’s face. His hand returned to Ilya’s hip.

Ok, what the hell?

“So… you’re not gay?” Cliff asked, extremely bluntly.

“Uh.” Ilya said, as his brain quickly rebooted. “No.”

“Oh, OK.” Cliff said. “Yeah, I figured earlier. When you didn’t answer. But then… I wasn’t sure.”

Ilya scoffed. “I fuck women. And I fuck men too. This was… a outlier.”

Cliff nodded.

“You don’t fuck men?” Ilya asked, since they were being blunt.

“Uh, no.” Cliff said, shrugging. “First timer.”

“Congrats, I’ve taken your gay virginity.” Ilya said. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks.”

“Glad that is settled.” Ilya said, readjusting his pillow and trying to go back to sleep.

“Hey, wait.” Cliff said, hand finding his shoulder again.

“Yes?” Ilya said.

“You don’t just fuck men, right?” Cliff asked.

“...what?” Ilya said. He was too fucking tired for this.

“You… y’know date them.” Cliff said.

“No.” Ilya replied. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Oh.” Cliff said, resting back down on the mattress. “I just thought…”

“What?” Ilya asked, leaning over towards Cliff.

“At the club, when I said ‘a guy wouldn’t do this to me’ you said ‘you’d be surprised.’ so I… I just thought.”

Oh. “I didn’t think you heard that.” Ilya said. “It’s complicated. I guess… I sort of broke up with someone. A… guy.”

“Damn.” Cliff said, leaning back a little and shaking his head. “What was the problem?”

Ilya looked over at him, one brow furrowed. “Problem?”

“Why’d you break up with him?”

Ilya grimaced. “Oh. I mean— he broke up with me. Sorry.”

“Shit.” Cliff said, no more surprise, or humor in his voice, but a sort of understanding and sympathy. “That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Ilya said, eyes finding the floor again. “It was not serious.”

“No?” Cliff asked. “That’s not why you’ve been… bitchy as fuck lately.”

It spoke to how exhausted Ilya was that he didn’t even try to thwap Cliff on the arm, just sighed and said. “Maybe.”

“Well, that sucks man.” Cliff said after a moment. “And he’s a fucking idiot.”

Ilya scoffed. “Oh?”

“Yep.” Cliff said. “And Cass is an idiot, too.” Cliff said. Ilya raised an eyebrow. “OK, yeah obviously not. I’m trying to do something here? Can you just… don’t be difficult for once.”

Ilya said nothing, raised his hands up in surrender before gesturing for Cliff to go on. “That stupid, good for nothing, ugly dipshit, is an idiot, because you are a catch, Ilya Rozanov.”

He paused.

“Oh, sorry.” Ilya said. “Uh, Cass is… a very nice woman, and it’s unfortunate that you two were at different stages of life and it isn’t possible to be with her?” Cliff nodded approvingly. “And although she had every right to end the relationship at any time, you feel a little hurt by her approach to it, especially after you’d been together so long?”

“Yep, that’s about it.” Cliff said. “Any notes for me?”

“Nah, fuck that guy.”

“Hell yeah, brother.” Cliff said, holding his hand up for a high five.

Ilya obliged but also advised. “I don’t think you should call me that anymore.”

They fell asleep quickly. It was the first night in a long time Ilya had drifted off halfway through a train of thought, and not spent the night laying on his back staring at the ceiling.

As much as he felt better, he also figured he’d have to continue to be a dick, if he wanted to be assigned to room with Marlea, no questions asked. And he definitely did.