Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander

Additional Tags:

Sex, Smut, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Coming Inside Someone, Creampie, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Would Do Anything for Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Bottom Shane Hollander, POV Shane Hollander, Alpha Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Can Fight, Shane Hollander Comforts Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander is Obsessed With Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Mentally Spirals, Shane Hollander Rides Ilya Rozanov, Anal Plug, Anal Fingering, Blackmail, Recorded Without Consent, Shane Hollander Takes Care of Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Relationship Timeline Reveal, Top Ilya Rozanov, Protective Ilya Rozanov, Protective Shane Hollander, Brave Shane Hollander, BAMF Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov Calls Shane Hollander a Slut, Ilya Rozanov Speaks Russian, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova Friendship, Good Friend Svetlana Vetrova, Svetlana Vetrova Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Momager Yuna Hollander, Supportive David Hollander and Yuna Hollander, Supportive David Hollander, One Shot, AU, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), the cottage, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov in Love, Established Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-23 Words: 17,747 Chapters: 1/1

Extortion

Summary

Shane could deny it – he could try to pretend the man in the audio whimpering for more isn’t him, that it’s a scam, that it was fake or edited. He could get lawyers involved, or take it to the press before anything leaks and control the narrative himself. But he doesn’t know how much more the blackmailer has, and he can’t risk Ilya getting outed or deported or – well, he can’t risk Ilya.
*Shane and Ilya don't get caught at the cottage. But they still get caught.

July 2017  

Shane frowned as Ilya turned the chip packet inside out and licked up the leftover salt. He kept his mouth shut until Ilya made eye contact and winked at him.  

“Seriously?”  

Ilya raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion.  

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Shane asked.  

“You think I would piss you off just for fun?” Ilya smirked, neatly folding the packet and placing it on Shane's empty plate on the coffee table.  

“I know you would,” Shane rolled his eyes. “You live to piss me off.”  

Ilya gasped in mock offence, pushing Shane down on the couch and crawling over him. “My own boyfriend thinks so terribly of me?”  

Boyfriend. Just hearing it made Shane feel giddy. His boyfriend. His boyfriend. Ilya was his, and only his. They had a plan, they had a future together. This was something that was tangible and real and his.  

Shane sighed as Ilya’s hand moved up his t shirt, caressing his stomach. He let himself relax under the feeling, his body sinking into the cushions as Ilya settled over him, trying to remember the patterns that his hands made over his body for the many, many nights where he wouldn’t get to feel him. He reached up to touch Ilya’s bare chest, hands moving across the hard muscle and the tiny bit of summer weight he’d put on, the softness of their short summer together evident just beneath his belly button and at his hips.  

“So now that we’re boyfriends, I have to just ignore all your flaws?” Shane asked.  

Ilya hummed as he leaned closer to kiss Shane’s neck. Shane felt him shiver slightly, and wondered if it was the word boyfriend that caused it. If it set Ilya alight the way it did Shane. 

“Yes, that’s the deal. If I had flaws. But I do not, so,” Ilya shrugged, but the smile on his face betrayed him completely.  

He laughed as Ilya pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “You have so many flaws.”  

“Like what?” Ilya asked, biting Shane’s lower lip.  

“Smoking,” Shane said, muffled by Ilya’s lips still pressed against his. “It’s disgusting and bad for you. And you drive like a fucking idiot.”  

“I look sexy when I smoke,” Ilya defended, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And when I drive fast cars. You get hard when I do burnouts.”  

“You flirt with fucking everyone,” Shane carried on, ignoring him.  

Ilya laughed, rolling his eyes dramatically before moving to bite his shoulder. “I only flirt with you.”  

“I hate your fucking motorbike,” Shane breathed, real honesty suddenly taking over, making his face feel warm. “I worry that someone’s gonna hit you and kill you, even if you drive carefully, because people are fucking idiots.”  

The hand brushing across Shane’s abs stopped as Ilya stared at him. Shane bit his lip and watched Ilya as he tilted his head, then nodded.  

“I sell the bike,” Ilya said.  

“I didn’t ask you –”  

“I know,” Ilya said, reaching for the waistband of Shane’s shorts and tucking his hand in, grabbing his hip, solid and reassuring. Somehow, it felt like a commitment to their future, as much as Ilya leavingBoston did.  

Shane twitched as Ilya dug his fingers into his waist, relieved and guilty at the same time.  

“See, no flaws,” Ilya shrugged.  

“The way you handwash the dishes when the dishwasher is right next to the sink is stupid,” Shane griped. “The dishwater is hotter and kills more germs.”  

“Lazy to use the machine for two dishes,” Ilya murmured.  

“It’s not,” Shane protested.  

“What else?” Ilya whispered into his neck as he pushed his shorts down.  

Shane tried to keep still as Ilya rucked up his shirt to his armpits and kissed his way down his torso, making soft, happy noises as he moved lower and lower.  

“The way you wink at the camera when you do media, drives me fucking crazy,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya laughed against his stomach, kissing right below his belly button. “So now it’s a flaw to show charisma on camera?”  

“It’s a flaw that you wink at anybody but me,” Shane said possessively.  

Ilya nodded as he pulled Shane’s shorts down to his thighs, sighing proudly as Shane’s hard cock smacked against his stomach. “I think you like all these things about me. You just confused hate and love for so long.”  

“No I didn’t, I always loved you,” Shane admitted before he could stop himself.  

Ilya looked at him with soft, happy eyes as he leaned down to wrap his lips around the tip of Shane’s dick, his hand wrapped around the base of his dick.  

“The way you always lick the packet of whatever you’re eating grosses me out,” Shane lied.  

It never grossed him out. He knew Ilya was putting on a show for him, only for him, and Shane loved it. Sometimes he waited patiently for Ilya to notice that he was watching, focused on his freakishly long tongue, for Ilya to start lasciviously licking things, side eyeing him slyly before Shane pounced on him. Two days ago, Ilya had licked the inside of an ice cream wrapper, and then Shane had licked the ice cream right off of his lips.  

Shane tried to clear his head and get back to the game they were playing, trying to think of something else he could pretend to complain about.  

“You and your fucking secret cigarettes,” Shane murmured, kicking himself when he realised he already mentioned it.  

Ilya pulled off his cock, kissing the soft skin of the crease of Shane’s inner thigh, too polite to mention that Shane already said smoking. “Not secret, I smoke in front of you. You don’t scare me, Hollander. I do whatever I want, no secrets.”  

“That’s another thing, you’re too cocky,” Shane rolled his eyes.  

“You like me cocky,” Ilya reminded him.  

Shane opened his mouth to argue, but Ilya cut him off by swallowing him down, making him cry out instead.  

He was going to spend the entire season mourning this time with Ilya, Shane could already feel it. Their two weeks at the cottage was nearly over, and –  

“You know what the worst thing about you is?” Shane said, his voice strained as Ilya worked his mouth further and further down his length.  

Ilya hummed, the vibration of his throat making his cock tingle.  

“You’re going to back to Boston,” Shane whispered.  

He threw his arm over his face to try and stave off the tears pricking at his eyes. He could feel Ilya moving above him, his mouth moving away as Ilya kissed his way back up to his neck. Shane made a desperate noise as Ilya grabbed his face, shaking him slightly and making him look up.  

Shane opened his eyes, surprised to see Ilya’s eyes were a little wet, too.  

“You know what the worst thing about you is?” Ilya said, his voice low and pained, rutting his clothed erection against Shane’s bare one. “You’re going back to fucking Montreal.”  

Shane nodded, agreeing. “We both fucking suck.”  

Ilya’s fingers dug into his chin a little as he tilted his head up more, forcing Shane to hold his gaze. “It’s a year. Less than, because you will not make it past play offs, so you can come to Boston in like, March probably, and stay and watch me win the cup.”  

Shane laughed as Ilya smiled weakly. “Not a chance in hell, Rozanov.”  

“A few months,” Ilya said softer, kissing him sweetly. “And then I will be in Ottawa, and we will be closer, and we can start the charity and get coffee together in public and we will be together.”  

He nodded as Ilya kissed his collarbone, biting at him gently. “A few months,” he repeated like a mantra.  

Ilya kissed him desperately, pressing his hips against Shane and canting upwards. Shane reached for Ilya’s sweatpants, shoving them down and moaning when his bare cock brushed against Ilya’s, heat radiating between them.  

“Come on, we said no crying until the last day,” Ilya reminded him.  

Shane nodded as he kissed him desperately, touching as much of Ilya as he could. He was right; they would cry after their summer together. Not now, while they were still in each other’s arms.  

 

October 2017  

Shane gasped as Ilya pressed a third finger inside him, moaning as he bent them slightly and pushed in deeper.  

They hadn’t seen each other since the cottage, but Ilya was here, finally here, finally inside him, and Shane needed more. They had called and seen each other over Skype nearly every day, but it wasn’t the same as being in Ilya’s arms. Nothing was ever as good as being in Ilya’s arms.  

Playing against each other for the first game of the season was electric. Ilya had reminded him that it was still the preseason, and it was basically an exhibition game, even then that Shane didn’t stand a chance against the Raiders on a good day, but god it was fun.  

Something about their first face off together filled Shane with a sense of loss. He wondered how different it would be next season with Ilya playing for Ottawa; whether their face offs would have the same tenacity. Whether the competition would be just as fierce. Whether Ottawa would put up anywhere near as much of a fight as Boston did. Whether it would still be as fun when Ilya wasn’t wearing the black and gold next year.  

Ilya had been bold tonight, following Shane back to his hotel room, neither of them willing to try to navigate the traffic back to Ilya’s house after some sort of multi car pile up that had the entire city gridlocked. It was nearly 10pm by the time they got out of the arena, and Shane had to be up at 5am for his 6am bus with the team to New York, and Hayden had been scratched from this roadie after cracking a rib last week, and most of the guys were on another floor of the hotel, and it felt like everything had lined up for the two of them to finally be together after nearly three months apart.  

“More,” Shane breathed.  

“More? Already?” Ilya was doing his best to sound bored and lazy, but Shane recognised the tightness in his voice. The way he was trying so hard to keep himself composed, and failing. 

“More, come on,” Shane begged, muffled with his face against the pillow. “Come on, fuck me, I need it.”  

Ilya crowded over him, kissing his way down his back as he teased a third finger at Shane’s rim. “So desperate,” Ilya mocked.  

“You love me this way,” Shane scoffed.  

“I love you every way,” Ilya muttered, his mouth wet against his spine. “Feels okay?” he asked as he fucked a third finger inside.  

“Just fuck me,” Shane begged, feeling more desperate than ever for release. Touching himself for the last three months had been so fucking inadequate compared to this, to Ilya’s hands on and inside him. “Please, fuck me, right now. It’s been so long, and I need it, I need you, I can take it, please just fuck me, please, please –”  

Shane cried out as Ilya pulled his fingers out and pressed his bare cock to his hole, pressing inside in a smooth, easy motion. He moaned as Ilya fucked him roughly, holding him down against the bed by his hips as he panted into the pillow.  

“So fucking tight,” Ilya moaned. “Is this tight fucking pussy all for me, Hollander?”  

“Yours,” Shane punched out. “All yours, Ilya, it’s all for you, it’s always for you, please, fuck me, fuck my puss –”  

Ilya pulled his hair roughly as he slammed his hips harder into Shane’s, murmuring mine and all sorts of colourful curses in both English and Russian.  

“Fucking tight pussy, so fucking wet Hollander, wet like a fucking girl –”  

Shane keened high in his throat, reaching to hold onto Ilya’s wrists, digging hard into his waist. He moaned louder when Ilya slapped his ass so hard his skin immediately started to burn.  

“Fucking slut for me, aren’t you?” Ilya panted as he reamed into him.  

It was hard and fast and perfect, Shane coming untouched as Ilya pounded into him, his hands possessively claiming Shane as he came inside him in the same breath. Shane groaned, trying to catch his breath as Ilya collapsed on top of him, his skin sweaty and sticky and so, so warm.  

“Jesus fuck,” Shane breathed.  

Ilya hummed behind him as he kissed his neck, clearly reluctant to move. Shane had no desire to push him off, even though his skin was tacky and Ilya’s cock was beginning to go soft inside him and his thighs were aching from hockey and sex and he needed to stretch.  

“I fucking missed you,” Ilya muttered into his shoulder.  

“I missed you too,” Shane breathed.  

“You mean you missed my dick,” Ilya corrected.  

“Yes, I missed your dick, you asshole,” Shane huffed. “I did not miss how fucking heavy you are, get off me.”  

Ilya laughed as he rolled off of him, pulling out carefully as he laid next to Shane. Shane tried to force himself to move, grimacing as Ilya’s come began to leak out of him, wet and hot down the back of his balls and between his legs.  

“Fuck,” Shane cursed.  

Ilya rolled closer to kiss his shoulder, his fingers dancing down his back before slapping his ass and pulling his cheeks apart, thumbing his hole. Shane made a soft noise as Ilya gathered up the come leaking out of him and pushed it back inside Shane, the ache in his legs intensifying.  

“I hate that,” Shane lied.  

Ilya scoffed as he fingered him, humming to himself as he scissored his fingers wide. “No you don’t.”  

“Nobody likes this,” Shane protested.  

Ilya groaned loudly as he pulled his fingers away and climbed out of bed, ambling into the bathroom and running the shower. Shane could hear him rifling through their bags before he reached for Shane, pulling him up and forcing him into the tiny bathroom and under the hot water.  

“You hurt that shoulder tonight?” Ilya asked, angling the spray onto Shane and reaching for the shampoo that Ilya said was too fancy but Shane knew he’d been using for years whenever he showered at his condo. “Connors checked you pretty hard.”  

“It looked worse than it was,” Shane dismissed. “I’m fine.”  

Ilya didn't say anything as he soaped Shane up and began to massage the muscles in his upper back, digging into his shoulders and repeating the movements. Shane sighed as he leaned against Ilya, letting his big, strong hands work into him, the soreness in his muscles already easing.  

Fuck, Shane missed this so much. He missed just being held by Ilya more than anything in the world. He hadn’t let himself think about their time at the cottage too much, refusing to think about how much they were forced to be apart until next summer. He refused to think about how long they would have to do this, to be separated for their careers and spend so much time apart, even if Ilya really did move to Ottawa next season.  

“What’s wrong?” Ilya asked, wrapping his arms around Shane and cradling him against his chest.  

“I’m just thinking about the cottage,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya hummed, scratching his way gently down Shane’s back before coming up to rest in his hair. “I miss it there.”  

“It was kind of perfect,” Shane said quietly. “Just us for two weeks.”  

“I can be there for longer next summer, if you want,” Ilya suggested, just as quietly. “I think maybe I don’t go to Russia. No time with the move, you know.”  

Shane blinked in surprise, his arms tightening around Ilya’s middle. “Really?”  

“Yeah, if I don’t have to for my visa,” Ilya said. “I’ll go the year after. Would this be okay?”  

“Fuck yeah,” Shane breathed, pressing a soft kiss over Ilya’s heart. “Yeah, you could move in with me in Montreal even, if you want.”  

Ilya made a happy noise as he let go of Shane, pushing him gently against the wall and kissing him. Shane smiled as Ilya bit at his lip and kissed him back. They finished their shower peacefully, trading of rinsing under the water before drying off and climbing naked into the queen bed that wasn’t covered in sweat and come. Shane sent out a silent thanks to Hayden for not making this specific game, resolving to send a nice dinner to the Pikes the following night.  

“I have to be up in five hours,” Shane frowned.  

“Okay,” Ilya said, reaching for his phone. “I set an alarm for four hours so we can fuck two more times.”  

“Romantic,” Shane scoffed as he plastered himself to Ilya’s side, curling into his chest.  

“Yes, Hollander, I am very romantic, keep up,” Ilya murmured sleepily, kissing his still damp hair and wrapping his arms around him, holding him close again.  

Shane wondered if he’d ever get sick of being held by Ilya. He didn’t think he would.  

>>>  

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Shane moaned softly as he rolled his hips, raising up onto his knees before sinking back down on Ilya’s length.  

He was sensitive from his own orgasm, but he couldn’t stop moving. He needed to leave Ilya sated, needed to please him, to make it worth his while to be monogamous, to wait so long between these moments, to reward his commitment to Shane.  

Ilya moaned as he squeezed Shane’s hips, leaning back against the headboard as he watched Shane ride him, staring up at him in a daze. Shane thought about their fourth morning together at the cottage, when they had been in this same position, and Ilya had asked him why Shane had wanted to ride him so much. Shane had been terrified to admit that he wanted to erase the memory of their first time together, for Ilya to only have good memories of Shane in his lap. Ilya had kissed him so hard Shane had seen stars and not even noticed that Ilya had rolled them over on the floor, fucking Shane rough and hard on the rug in front of the giant bay window that faced the lake.  

“You look so fucking sexy, Hollander,” Ilya gasped.  

Shane keened, pulling Ilya’s hair, desperately trying to stay in the moment and move his hips.  

“You feel so fucking good,” Shane breathed. “So fucking deep. You're so fucking big.”  

Ilya choked out a strangled noise as he watched Shane move, his eyes fixated on where he was disappearing inside him.  

“You gonna come for me?” Shane asked, pulling Ilya’s hair a little harder. “You gonna come inside me? Fill me up? You gonna make me sit on a bus with my team with your come leaking out of me?”  

Ilya cried out as he came, pumping inside Shane. Shane watched Ilya’s face closely, victorious that he made Ilya come, twitching and moaning beneath him. Shane studied him carefully as his face turned redder than he already was, the veins in his temples throbbing and his eyes turning glassy.  

He loved watching Ilya come undone like this. It was bittersweet, in a dark hotel room with only a fluorescent lamp illuminating them, not in the bright, warm sunlight of the cottage, but it was still perfect, because it was them.  

Shane leaned forward to kiss Ilya, swallowing his oversensitive moans as Ilya writhed beneath him. He kissed Ilya through the aftershocks of his orgasm, flinching when his alarm went off again.  

He reached over to snooze it, sighing when he heard a hotel door down the hallway slam. Shane only had ten minutes to get down to the lobby and get breakfast with the team before they got on the bus.  

He rose up on his knees slowly, ready to pull away from Ilya, choking out a surprised gasp as Ilya flipped them over, laying Shane out on his back and kissing him.  

“I brought you something,” Ilya smirked.  

Shane raised an eyebrow. “What.”  

“Don’t move,” Ilya ordered, pulling out of him slowly and grabbing his duffel bag by the bed. He unzipped a side pocket and pulled out a small silk bag, taking out a small, soft silicone plug.  

Shane huffed out a shocked laugh as Ilya climbed back onto the bed and licked through the come Shane had spilled on his own stomach moments earlier before sucking on the plug for a moment.  

“Can I?” Ilya asked, teasing the plug at his rim.  

“Fuck, yes,” Shane begged. “Holy shit, yes.” He moaned as Ilya pressed the plug inside him, stuffing him full of his release.  

“Fucking hell, Shane,” Ilya breathed. “Keep this in as long as you can, yes? You call me when you take it out, I want to see it.”  

Shane moaned and nodded. “You’re really gonna make me walk around with this all day?” he asked.  

He wasn’t totally sure why he was surprised; he was the one that brought this up first. He was the one that wanted to be stuffed full of Ilya in front of everybody.  

“Yes,” Ilya said, kissing him. “You’re going to sit at breakfast with your team and feel me inside you. You're going to feel me in the bus, in New York. You're going to fucking feel me, Hollander.”  

“Gonna feel you,” Shane repeated in a daze. “Gonna have you inside me all day.”  

Ilya kissed him again as the alarm went off again. Shane groaned as Ilya finally climbed off of him, sitting up and testing the feeling of the plug.  

It was small; it didn’t feel any more intrusive than a single finger, but somehow, it felt like the filthiest thing Shane had ever had inside him. A secret, only for him and Ilya.  

Ilya would know that Shane was walking around with this all day. Ilya would know that Shane would be spending the day with his team, men that would spit on him if they knew what Shane was doing, talking to them about hockey and their plays and their families, all the while being stuffed with Ilya’s come, marked by him completely.  

“You have to go,” Ilya said sadly.  

They dressed in silence, repacking their bags, spraying cologne and kissing one last time by the front door before Shane finally said goodbye, slipping out into the hallway and bumping into JJ at the elevator. It was hard to smile and act like it was a good morning when he had to leave Ilya behind yet again.  

 

December 2017  

“Your parents weren’t mad that you’re not going there?”  

Shane shook his head as Ilya played with his hair, scratching through his scalp comfortingly. “Mom’s the one that booked that stupid campaign two days before Christmas,” Shane said. “So now, they can come here for dinner because I’ll be too tired to drive to Ottawa and back.”  

“She’s a smart woman, she knows everyone wants to see you in your underwear,” Ilya teased.  

Shane rolled his eyes, even though Ilya wouldn’t be able to see with his head in Ilya’s lap. “Well, it worked out. Three days with you is not nothing.”  

“No,” Ilya agreed, his fingers rubbing patterns into Shane’s scalp that made him close his eyes and breathe deeply. “Not nothing.”  

He had no idea what game was playing on the television right now; there was only one more day of hockey before the eight day Christmas break. Ilya had had his last game of the year the day before and flown straight to Montreal, and Shane had played his last game that afternoon. It had been amazing to come home to Ilya, grilled chicken and seasoned vegetables and rice waiting for him when he walked in the door.  

Shane had loved the food and asked him how he’d gotten the vegetables to taste so good, and Ilya had looked him right in the eye and asked him why the only way the West made vegetables was by boiling them and turning them to mush. Then he had told him to finish his plate or he wouldn’t get a blow job.  

It had been perfect. It had made Shane crave their future domesticity even more than he already had been.  

Ilya was going to be here tomorrow afternoon when Shane got back from his shoot. He was going to be here to help Shane prepare his own Christmas dinner with his parents, and he was going to be here, in Shane’s bed, for two more nights. He was going to share Christmas morning with him.  

Their first Christmas. Shane had gotten him a gift and everything.  

“Do you think about next year?” Shane asked.  

“All the time,” Ilya whispered, his fingers never stopping their caress of Shane’s scalp.  

>>>  

Christmas morning was a little more subdued than Shane had been expecting. Ilya's flight wasn’t until two, and his parents weren’t due at his apartment until four, but the day felt heavy with impending loneliness. Shane had set an early alarm, determined to cook a festive breakfast with Ilya and make it a day that would count.  

They had pancakes with maple syrup and icing, and Ilya had helped him mix up a batter for a Christmas dessert for Shane to bake later that night with his parents. Shane had a roast chicken and vegetables ready to go, already marinating and pre cut the night before with Ilya who made fun of him for using a peeler instead of a paring knife to peel the potatoes.  

Everything was perfect, even when Ilya reached into his pocket and handed Shane a small box.  

“What is it?” Shane asked, turning it over in his hand.  

“If only there was a way for you to find out,” Ilya deadpanned.  

Shane laughed as he opened the box, his throat catching at the sight of the key inside, a small laugh bubbling in his throat. It was comforting to know they were on the same page, even when they hadn’ttalked about it yet.  

“For my house,” Ilya said quietly. “Maybe not so romantic since I will sell it soon, actually. I did not think of that. And I didn't copy you, because I had this cut before I come here. I didn’t know you were going to give me a key to here when I came here.”  

“I love it. Thank you, Ilya,” Shane promised. “No, it’s just funny because – here.” He handed Ilya the folded paper from his dressing gown pocket, watching closely.  

Ilya unfolded it and blinked as he read the paper.  

“I can’t file it straight away, for obvious reasons, but I thought – if you signed it, you would know how –” Shane huffed in frustration. He had practiced this. “I mean, you’d understand how I felt. I'm not so good with words, you know. I mean, I’m trying, but I thought this was a good way to, you know. Show you.”  

Ilya finally looked up at him, his eyes glazed over. “You really want me to sign this?”  

“Only if you want,” Shane said, suddenly more nervous that he had felt in months.  

“Pen,” Ilya demanded.  

Shane hadn’t thought to carry a pen with him. He stood and grabbed one from the drawer under the counter, passing it to Ilya and watching him sign his name to the deed to the cottage. He could hardly believe it as Ilya passed it back to him, staring at their names together on the ownership line.  

“You signed it,” Shane said, hardly able to believe his eyes.  

“You offered me your home,” Ilya said in disbelief.  

“Our home,” Shane corrected reflexively.  

He looked up to see Ilya studying him closely, his cheeks pink and his chest flushed and his dick hard in the pair of Shane’s white boxer briefs that he’d stolen.  

“Our home,” Ilya repeated. “Fucking hell, Shane. Come here.”  

The morning passed in a blur of skin and sweat and red lips and finger shaped bruises and orgasm after orgasm before Shane had to say goodbye to Ilya again.  

This time, he didn’t cry as he drove back to his condo, soothed by the deed to the cottage locked in his safe in his bedroom that only he and Ilya had the code for.  

 

January 2018  

"I can’t believe they didn’t put us together this year,” Ilya pouted.  

Shane hummed around Ilya’s cock, sinking down further and looking up at his face, trying to get him to relax, but Ilya looked put out.  

“We were too good together last year,” Ilya complained. “They know with us on a team no one else stands a chance of winning. Sore fucking losers.”  

Shane pulled off Ilya with a frustrated sigh. “I’m doing some pretty solid work here and you’re bitching about the line up.”  

“Shane,” Ilya admonished, looking down at Shane on his knees and frowning, apparently unmoved by the sight. “How can you think about sex at a time like this?”  

Shane almost laughed, but Ilya really did look put out.  

“What if we never get to play together again?” Ilya said petulantly. 

“Maybe we just aren’t as interesting together as we are apart,” Shane tried to joke.  

It fell flat, he could feel it. Ilya grabbed his wrist and pulled him up to stand with him, holding him tight against his body.  

“No,” Ilya said, kissing his temple. “I checked Twitter. Fans want to see us on one team.”  

“Fans? Or you on your burner accounts?” Shane teased.  

“Yes,” Ilya said before he kissed him.  

“I guess the league doesn’t want us together. It's like they know,” Shane said bitterly.  

“The league is stupid,” Ilya dismissed. “They think they make more money when we compete against each other. This year they will make less than last year, watch. Our names together are better than apart.”  

Shane could feel a blush rise to his cheeks as he considered that. His mind wandered to a place where their names were together in other ways before he could stop himself. Like on paperwork, like on a deed...  

“Okay, now you’ve got me pissed off too,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya laughed as he kissed him, sucking Shane’s bottom lip into his mouth and moaning softly. “You want to ride me until you feel better?”  

Shane nodded, grabbing Ilya by the shirt and pulling him towards the bed, both of them stripping frantically before Shane climbed into Ilya’s lap and settled over him.  

 

February 2018  

Shane frowned at the fourteen text messages and nine missed calls from his mother as he left the locker room, dialling her number as he walked to the car park. He flinched at the sunlight, wishing it wasn’t such an early afternoon game today. He was already tired and moody and eager to just call Ilya and fall asleep on the phone listening to him breathe.  

“Shane,” Yuna sounded terse as she answered.  

“Are you guys okay?” Shane rushed out, power walking to his car.  

“We’re fine, we’re just – something’s come up that we need to discuss,” she said in a clipped voice. “Your father and I will be at yours in about an hour. Don't worry, it’s nothing serious.”  

Shane tried to breathe as she hung up, forcing himself to walk to his car, climb inside and lock the doors. The first thing he did was google his name, and –  

Nothing. There was no news about him. Nothing that wasn’t about the game that he just played, at least.  

In a panic, Shane googled Ilya’s name, but it was more of the same. Ilya was still on the ice in Boston, midway through the second period, two goals already to his name. There was nothing else in the news about him, which was good. He thought about texting Ilya to tell him that something had happened, to ask him to call when he was free, but he was reluctant to send up a distress signal without knowing what was forcing his parents to drive from Ottawa to Montreal to talk to him in person.  

He'd wait.  

Shane threw the car into drive and tried to concentrate on the road and not panic. He messaged Ilya to congratulate him on his win and tell him that he’d call later, and then they could video call and maybe he’d make Ilya do that thing where he taught him a new word in Russian and wouldn’t let Shane come until Shane said it perfectly and then they could fall asleep together like they had done most nights in the last six months, and everything would be fine.  

Shane made it home in one piece, staving off his anxiety pretty well until he got upstairs to his bedroom and saw Ilya’s t shirt on the edge of the bed where he’d taken it off and dropped it this morning. He'dslept in it for the last two nights, the closest he’d probably get to having Ilya wrapped around him for another few weeks, the memory of their two nights together at All Stars already a distant memory.  

Five months, Ilya would tell him if he were here. Five months until Ilya was done with the Raiders and they were living in the same country. Five months until they could house hunt together. Five months until they could steal away at the cottage. Five months until they could be.  

Shane took another shower and changed into Ilya’s shirt and his own sweatpants, going downstairs to turn on the coffee machine for his parents and flicking on the kettle.  

Ilya was trying to get him into tea. Shane hadn’t been completely against it, but he hadn’t really found a tea that he liked. He had, at the very least, drank the sleepytime teas Ilya made for him whenever they had a night together at one of their own homes, splitting the mug with Ilya and finishing it diligently. You are part of Russian household now, Shane. We drink tea. This is your culture now.  

Shane grabbed three mugs and waited at the table for his parents.  

The knock on the door came less than fifteen minutes later. He stood to let his parents in, hugging each of them and pouring them a coffee while he poured himself a chamomile tea and sat across from them, waiting.  

Romashka. Shane remembered that word. They'd had to google it to translate it, because Ilya was tired and couldn’t remember the English word, and now every time Shane had a chamomile tea, he would text Ilya to tell him that he was having romashka chay.  

“You’re freaking me out,” Shane said, looking between his parents.  

Yuna grimaced as she reached into her bag and pulled out her laptop, pushing her coffee aside. “Right, so. I guess we should be grateful that we’ve gone this long without this being an issue. But someone is claiming they have audio of you in a compromising position and wants a payout.”  

Shane blinked as the world around him went fuzzy, nothing but the sound of ringing in his ears discernable. He could tell that his mother was still talking, tapping away at her laptop, and his father was silent, watching him. Shane tried to breathe evenly as he did his best to listen, the high pitched squealing in his ears clearing in time to hear –  

“Doctored, obviously. I don’t know if it’s AI or something, but it’s clearly fake,” Yuna was saying. “But we need to come up with a plan on how to deal with these sorts of claims if they ever come up again. We need consistency and a hard line.”  

“It’s fake?” Shane repeated, not daring to let hope bloom in his chest.  

“Of course it is,” Yuna dismissed with a wave. “It’s choppy and cut off and robotic. It kind of sounds like someone took the audio from the games you were mic’d up and overlaid other sounds onto it. If you’re going to ask for ten million dollars, at least make it sound realistic, you know?”  

Shane glanced at his father, sitting there completely passively, sipping his coffee and saying nothing in a way that felt like he was saying everything.  

“You listened to it?” Shane asked, his stomach roiling.  

“Yeah, I didn’t know what it was at first, but it’s obvious –”  

“Can I hear it?”  

Yuna looked surprised as she picked up her phone and emailed Shane, the wait between the sent whoosh and his receiving email chime feeling like an hour. Shane stood and moved into the kitchen, turning his phone down to the lowest audio setting and holding the speaker to his ear, hoping and praying –  

“More,” his own voice came through the phone. “Come on, come on, fuck me, I need it. I need you.”  

Shane's cheeks burned red as he listened to himself cry and beg, the audio clearly muted at points to erase Ilya’s voice. He hung his head as he listened to the panting and the moaning, flinching when he heard himself beg for Ilya to fuck his pussy, Ilya’s name mercifully omitted from the recording. Shane shut it off, unable to listen to any more.  

If this entire situation wasn’t so fucking horrific, he might have gotten hard listening to Ilya fuck him. But it just made him want to vomit, knowing that someone had listened in on them, that his parents had heard this.  

“It’s from Boston,” Shane said, putting his phone down on the counter and pointedly not looking at his parents. “The game in October. It’s from my hotel room.”  

Shane chanced a look up, seeing his mother look stricken. She listened to it. She heard that audio and automatically assumed it was fake, because no part of her had even considered that she had a son that would beg to be fucked like that. Like a whore, or a slut, or a –  

Ilya had said something about being wet like a girl that night, hadn’t he? He'd slapped Shane’s ass and called him a slut. Fuck, he’d pumped Shane full of his come and stuffed him with a plug the next morning. Shane had nearly come violently on the bus during a particularly bumpy stretch of dirt road. Was that included in the audio? Had his parents heard that, too?  

Shane looked at his father, who looked – Shane couldn’t tell. Disappointed, or sad, maybe. Worried, definitely. He had that deep wrinkle in the centre of his forehead that was so pronounced specifically because of how worried he was all the time, and Shane had never seen it look deeper than it did right now.  

“It’s - what?” Yuna asked.  

“It’s from last October. In Boston,” Shane repeated.  

With stunning clarity, panic settled over him as he realised what this meant.  

Somebody knew. Somebody knew about him and Ilya. Somebody knew that Ilya was bisexual, that he fucked men, and somebody could jeopardise Ilya’s life. There was somebody out there that could take away Ilya’s freedom and safety. There was somebody could out Ilya, and they would. For fucking money.  

Ilya could be sent back to Russia.  

Ilya could be deported and lose his career and Shane could lose Ilya and Ilya had told him all about how well connected his father was and how much his brother hated him and his brother was a cop and Ilya had told him how Alexei had connections and politicians were often affiliated with the bratva and Shane had joked about it at the time because it had seemed to farfetched and he didn’t listen when Ilya had tried to tell him exactly how serious and dangerous it was because Shane had been terrified and he had changed the subject and Ilya had let him because he didn’t want to think about it either but now there was a real threat and Ilya wasn’t here and Shane was alone and he knew that Ilya would do absolutely anything to protect Shane and what they had but Ilya wasn’t here and Shane was alone and Shane was the one who was being threatened which meant that Shane had to be the one to protect what they have and protect Ilya and be the strong one and make sure nobody ever found out about this before Ilya was in Canada and he was employed by Ottawa and they could get him some sort of temporary citizenship and maybe when Ilya had brought up citizenship and marriage at the cottage he had actually been trying to tell Shane that they should get married and Shane hadn’t picked up on it because he had been too panicked by the idea of Ilya being with someone else that wasn’t him but Ilya had told him that no matter who was around him that it was Shane and it had always been Shane and Shane had been so relieved that he had thought I will be the one to marry him one day but he should have said that and he should have brought that up and instead of asking Ilya to sign the deed to the cottage he should have asked him to sign a marriage certificate because there was audio of them having sex and crying for each other and begging for each other and was there video Shane hadn’t even thought to ask but maybe if they were married and people could see how in love they were maybe people wouldn’t hate them so much if the truth came out and maybe his parents would see that he had tried he really had he had done everything he could to be normal but Ilya was just too loud and too beautiful and too obnoxious and too perfect and too his that Shane really had no other choice than to follow his heart and Ilya must feel the same way because he was following his heart all the way to Ottawa and to Shane and Shane had to protect Ilya and make sure he was safe and that they could do this that they could even have a life together –  

Shane gasped as David shook him, trying to get his attention back.  

“Shane, son, breathe,” David ordered.  

Shane nodded, blinking and looking around. His parents were standing with him in the kitchen, their eyes wide and terrified and Shane had to do something.  

“I’m sorry,” Shane said, taking a step away from them, not able to stand being touched right now. “I didn’t mean to – I tried, I really did. I know this isn’t, yeah. Pay them whatever they want.”  

Yuna shook her head. “No, Shane –”  

“We can’t let this get out, it’s not safe,” Shane said, not looking at her. “We have to kill this, now.”  

“Stop. Shane –”  

“I have to – I have to make a call,” he said, grabbing his phone and running out of the kitchen, straight up to his room and shutting the door and sitting against it to block himself in.  

He dialled Ilya without thinking, his heart aching at the lily emoji he had next to Ilya’s pseudonym. Shane had added it at the cottage, knowing that at some point, Hayden or JJ or someone would notice it and tease him about it, but it had felt, stupidly, like somehow his relationship was more real. Because that’s what boyfriends did, right? They had cute emojis for their girlfriends in their phones?  

Ilya answered on the fifth ring, panting and clearly exhausted. “Hey, can I call you back in like five –”  

“There’s - someone knows,” Shane blurted out.  

He listened to Ilya’s silence, the sound of a bustling locker room the only indication that Ilya hadn’t hung up on him.  

“What?”  

“Someone bugged my hotel room in Boston last year,” Shane whispered. “They sent it to my mother. They want money to keep quiet.”  

Ilya was silent. Shane had no idea if he was moving or if Ilya was moving or –  

“Jane, breathe, okay? Will be okay, we can fix,” Ilya said, his voice clipped and his accent thick and his breathing heavy. “Don’t do anything.”  

“I fucked it all up,” Shane whispered. His face felt hot and he wanted to throw up and he was still wearing Ilya’s ratty grey t shirt that didn’t even smell like him any more. “What if you get sent back to Russia and I never see you again? What if they do something to you? I have the money, that’s not an issue. They're not even asking for everything. Not that it fucking matters, they can have it all for all I fucking care.”  

Ilya made a dissenting sound, but he was silent. Shane wanted him to say something, anything, but he knew he was probably still in the arena, surrounded by his team.  

Shane realised he was crying, and maybe that’s why his face felt so hot?  

“Shane, stop, no,” Ilya said, his voice finally coming through clear as a door slammed somewhere around him. “You pay them, they keep asking for more money because they still have proof. So we paynothing, okay?”  

Shane sat up straight; this is what he needed. That clarity, that strength that Ilya had so much of. Maybe he could borrow some. He’d been watching Ilya be so brave for the last nine years, he just needed to follow his example.  

“But if they just want –”  

“No,” Ilya said harshly. “I think this with Alexei too, when I was younger. Then I pay and pay and pay and never stop paying. You understand? It’s extortion, Shane. We don’t pay anyone like this anymore, okay? Never again, I won’t do this, and neither will you.”  

“Okay,” he agreed, taking a deep breath. He could hear it, the undertone in what Ilya was saying. The same tone his father used when he was a kid and he littered for the first and last time.  

We don’t do that in this family.  

“Tell me everything. From the start,” Ilya demanded.  

Shane recounted the story, short and sweet, keeping it to the facts only, as Ilya stayed silent.  

“Okay, Shane, I need to make some calls,” Ilya said in a low voice. “Do not pay anything. We will not be victim to blackmail, do you understand? Do not talk to anyone until I call you back, okay?”  

Shane sniffed as he agreed, the sick feeling in his stomach getting worse. “I’m gonna make this go away,” Shane promised. “I’m not gonna let this get out and risk you getting deported or – something.”   

Ilya made a low, pained sound. Shane knew what he was thinking – probably the same as Shane. That the urge to protect each other was threatening to take over any rational thought the other had.  

"Don’t do anything yet,” Ilya warned. Shane hated how sexy he sounded like this, furious and pissed off and ready to fight. “Can you wait for me?”  

“Fuck, my parents. They fucking listened to it, Ilya,” Shane whispered. “They heard me begging for you to – to fuck my pussy. Ilya, do you remember – shit, the plug. I didn’t even listen to it all the way through, but they probably heard it. All of it.”  

Ilya groaned. “Fuck, Shane, I’m so sorry.”  

Shane shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. Or my fault.”  

“No,” Ilya agreed. “Are you going to be okay if we hang up? I need to –” 

“Yeah,” Shane said, squaring his shoulders. “I’m gonna shower and then go back downstairs.”  

"We will talk soon, okay?” Ilya promised before they hung up.  

Shane stood and cracked the bedroom door open, but his condo was silent. He was sure his parents were downstairs, whispering to each other in a panic over what to do about him, about this fucking tape.  

He stripped and turned the shower on, determined to clear his head and try to work this out. He had to be brave, for Ilya.  

>>>  

Shane ambled back downstairs twenty minutes later in the same sweatpants and one of Ilya’s oversized Adidas sweaters. His parents were still at the table, looking ashen, watching him in silence as he moved back into the kitchen and refilled the kettle. He made another cup of tea in silence, automatically reaching for his phone before putting it back down, remembering that this wasn’t the time to message Ilya about tea.  

He stood tall as he moved back to the table, sitting across from his parents again and setting his phone face up in front of him so he wouldn’t miss it if Ilya called him.  

“Are you okay?” David asked quietly.  

“No. Sorry,” Shane said. “I panicked. There’s - um, there’s a lot at stake.”  

“Of course,” Yuna said. “I’m sure with the league –”  

“Oh, fuck,” Shane breathed. “I didn’t even think about hockey.”  

Yuna blanched, clearly shocked by the admission. Shane heard hysterical laughter before he realised it was coming from himself.  

He hadn’t thought about hockey. Not once. All he had thought about was Ilya being safe and with him and their life together.  

He hadn’t even thought about hockey. Ilya might call that growth. He'd have to remember to tell him that later, once their worlds had imploded or Shane had fixed this, either or.  

“Fuck,” Shane laughed, rubbing his face. “Fuck.”  

“Oh - okay,” Yuna said, looking confused and terrified and worried. “Shane, what –”  

“I’m gay,” Shane said flatly. “That audio is real. It’s of me with a man.”  

Yuna gasped quietly. David just smiled encouragingly at him, nodding to himself.  

Shane had expected worse. Not terrible; his parents were good people, but he had expected more of a reaction. He wondered if it wasn’t on the heels of audio of him whimpering for Ilya’s dick if it would have been less of a thing.  

“So, the other man in the audio –”  

“Whoever recorded this knows who he is,” Shane cut David off.  

“So this is a real threat,” Yuna surmised. “Shane, I know you said to pay them, but we cannot pay ten million dollars to someone that could still leak it or blackmail you for more money down the road.”  

Shane closed his eyes and nodded. "I know, I wasn’t thinking clearly before. I just don’t know what to do now. This can’t get out, and it’s not even because of hockey.”  

“Who -”  

“No,” Shane cut his mother off. He wasn’t going to talk about Ilya. He wasn’t going to out him. The less people that knew about him and Ilya, the easier it would be to protect him and what they had.  

“Okay, fine. Okay. So we need to try and figure out where this came from,” Yuna said. “Your hotel room, right?”  

Shane grabbed his laptop and searched for his hotel confirmation from the travel team, forwarding it to Yuna. He watched as Yuna tapped away at her computer, unsure of what the fuck to do.  

“Shane,” David said quietly. “You know we don’t care who you date, right? Gay, straight, whatever. Just no conservatives, please.”  

Shane choked out a laugh at the mere thought. “He’s not conservative.” Far from it, he refrained from saying.  

“Who - I mean, is he Canadian?” Yuna tried.  

He could see that she was restraining herself. As much as it drove him insane that his mother was asking anything at all, Shane was grateful that she was trying to keep herself in check.  

“No,” Shane said, keeping his eyes on his computer.  

His parents both looked surprised by that.  

“Okay. So, are you guys are serious?” David asked.  

Shane hummed, not wanting to say anything. He opened his mouth to tell them to stop asking questions, but his phone lit up with a call. He grabbed his phone and answered it, standing and making his way to the balcony, shutting the door behind him.  

“Hey,” Shane said.  

“Hey, I talked to Sveta,” Ilya said. He sounded faraway and slightly fuzzy, and it made Shane’s heart ache, the distance between them feeling further than ever. “Her cousin works at the Ritz, they are going to help.”  

“Oh, yeah?”  

Ilya hummed, and Shane heard his lighter flick. “We are going to the hotel now to see if we can see security footage. Who came into your room before you.”  

“Is that legal?” Shane asked.  

“Don’t worry about it,” Ilya dismissed, and Shane shouldn’t have found that sexy, but he did.  

“I am worried about it,” he said instead.  

“If anyone can find who did this, it’s Sveta,” Ilya said. "She found someone who was threatening Sasha once, years ago. Never told me how she did it, or how she made him go away.”  

“Really?”  

Ilya hummed. “Better than KGB.”  

Shane swallowed and nodded before he remembered Ilya couldn’t see him. “Okay. So we wait to see what you guys find at the hotel.”  

He could hear the flick of the lighter again, and the sound of Ilya’s deep breaths.  

“Are you okay?” Ilya asked. Shane could hear the way he was trying to silently blow out the smoke.  

“You know, right now, I understand the urge to smoke,” Shane admitted, looking at the empty ashtray on the patio table.  

Ilya choked out a laugh. “So you will not be mad if I say I have already smoked an entire pack in the last hour?”  

Shane laughed with him. “I mean, I don’t love it, but I understand. If I had cigarettes in the house, I might do the same.”  

Ilya hummed, and Shane could hear the lighter flick again. He knew Ilya wasn’t joking, but the urge to tell him to stop was strong. Now wasn’t the time though, Shane knew.  

“I told my parents I’m gay,” Shane said softly.  

“They were okay?” Ilya asked. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, I think so,” Shane said. “It was weird.”  

“Bad?”  

“No,” Shane said softly, not willing to turn and look into the house and see if his parents were watching him, or worse, trying to listen. “Just weird. I think them knowing the recording is real just adds a layer of humiliation on top it.”  

“Why? Because they know you beg for cock now?” Ilya teased.  

“Jesus,” Shane whined. “I think my mom listened to the whole thing.”  

Ilya choked out a shocked laugh. “No, Shane, there is no way.”  

“She thought it was fake,” Shane grit out. “She absolutely listened to the entire thing looking for clues it was bullshit.”  

Ilya whistled into the phone. “I am so lucky I am an orphan.”  

Shane grimaced, the ache in his chest intensifying. “I shouldn’t be complaining, I'm sorry.”  

“No, no, I'm sorry,” Ilya said. “It was a bad joke.”  

“I don’t like thinking of you like that,” Shane admitted.  

“What, an orphan? I am one,” Ilya said.  

“I might have laughed if you were an only child, though,” Shane snarked.  

He smiled when Ilya let out a loud, shocked laugh.  

“Is there a special word for that in English?” Ilya asked.  

“I don’t think so.”  

“You have orphans and widows but no other words,” Ilya lamented.  

“I told them I had a boyfriend,” Shane shared. “I didn’t tell them who. Just that I had someone, and for a bunch of reasons, this couldn’t get out. I needed to keep him safe.”  

Ilya hummed at that. “You are very sweet, Hollander. I uh, I told Sveta the same thing. That we are boyfriends.”  

“Oh,” Shane said, feeling guilty about smiling so wide when their whole lives could go to shit at any moment.  

“She wants to meet you. One day,” Ilya said.  

“One day,” Shane echoed.  

Shane heard the lighter flick again, and the telltale deep breath of Ilya sucking on a fresh cigarette.  

“I’m sorry,” Ilya said.  

“No, I'm sorry,” Shane said. “They bugged my room. This is about me, not you. And now Russia –”  

“Yes, Russia is a problem,” Ilya interrupted him. “If it happens, we deal with it then, okay? Not before then.”  

Shane already knew that he’d have to worry about this alone for the both of them. Ilya couldn’t do it, not right now, but that’s what Shane was for. Shane would bear both of their fears about losing Ilya to Russia right now.  

“Okay,” Shane lied.  

He was sure that Ilya could hear the dishonesty in his voice, but Ilya didn’t call him out on it.  

>>>  

Shane made another batch of coffee and sat with back at the table, feeling sick to his stomach as he just...waited.  

“Have you been with him long?” David asked, cutting through the silence.  

Shane didn’t answer, but his father looked more curious than anything.  

“Lily? Who I guess isn’t actually Lily,” David said, his brow furrowed.  

“It’s a fake name,” he muttered. “And, kind of,” Shane said noncommittally. He didn’t want to explain the whole non casual part of their relationship to his parents if he could help it.  

“Huh,” David pondered. “You know, you really threw us for a loop with Rose Landry.”  

Shane huffed out an awkward laugh before he took a large swig of his tea. “Yeah, threw myself for a loop there, too.”  

“Shane, what we heard – it isn’t a big deal,” Yuna tried. “Whoever he is –”  

He shook his head, not meeting her eye. “We aren’t going to talk about that.”  

“The other man –”  

“No,” Shane said firmly. “Please don’t ask me about him anymore.”  

Yuna deflated, looking at David, but David didn’t say anything. “Shane, if you’re protecting someone, we can help you.”  

“You are helping,” Shane said. “You told me about it. I’ve got someone looking into it. They're going to the hotel now to check the cameras.”  

“Who? Can you trust this person?” Yuna asked testily.  

“Yes,” Shane said easily. Ilya himself was going, and if Svetlana was someone that Ilya trusted with this, then she was someone Shane trusted, too.  

“Shane, it’s not just you –”  

“Pretend it is just me,” Shane deflected. “That’s me in that audio. Just me. Someone went out of their way to bug my room. It doesn’t matter who I’m with. Someone’s gone out of their way to blackmail me. Not him, not yet at least. So right now, what matters is that it never gets out, for my sake, right?”  

It was a cheap shot, preying on his mother’s management and control issues, but it worked. Yuna’s face closed off, and Shane could already hear her inside her own head, fighting herself to say the right thing.  

If Shane would do anything to protect Ilya, then his mother would do anything to protect him. He could harness that, utilise that for his own needs.  

Maybe there was something short term they could do to be doing to protect themselves.  

Maybe Ilya should go out and be seen with Svetlana just to be safe. Nobody would think twice if they were seen at the Ritz together, that much Shane was sure of. Maybe Shane should see if Rose wouldn’tmind being seen out in public with him, to give the illusion that they were still dating. Shane would be sick to his stomach seeing Ilya with someone else, and Ilya would be fucking insufferable about Shane being seen with Rose, but if it kept eyes off of Ilya, it would be worth it.  

Shane wondered what the next move would be. What would he do if whoever bugged him leaked the audio? He’d be benched, probably. The boys wouldn’t want to share a locker room with him anymore,he was sure of that. Theriault was a dick; Shane knew he wouldn’t step in and do anything. He never stepped in where there was tension in the locker room before.  

And why had only Shane been contacted and not Ilya? If someone knew who Shane was, Shane figured they would know who Ilya was and try to blackmail him too, try to double their payout.  

“Do you think anyone else on your team was bugged?” Yuna asked.  

Shane shook his head, thinking about the email. “I don’t think so. This feels kind of personal.”  

Yuna stood and picked up her phone. “I know someone whose brother worked at Google, I’m just gonna make a call. It's from a gmail account, so maybe...”  

Shane listened as Yuna called a friend of a friend, asking about Gmail security and how to trace where an account was made. He looked over to his father, who was fiddling around on Yuna’s computer, still quiet.  

He had to do something. He had to do more. Shane loved his father, but he didn’t want to be the kind of man that sat there silently and had nothing to say. It wasn’t enough to sit here and wait for Svetlana to maybe find something.  

Shane pulled up his account and looked at the email Yuna had forwarded, trying to find any clue as to who would want to blackmail him, but there was nothing. The username was a bunch of random numbers that made no sense, and the body of the email was too sparse to give any clue as to who it was. He’d barely read it before, too focused on the recording, but he stopped and read it now.  

 

From: 13151420185112812215@gmail.com  

To: Yuna.Hollander@hollanderholdings.com  

Subject: Honesty  

Yuna Hollander,  

Please listen to the enclosed audio with urgency. If I do not have $10 million dollars in cash by next Friday, I will post this online for the world to hear.  

This is not fake. This audio is real. Your son is a disloyal faggot and I will not rest until he is held accountable for his actions. He will not get away with this.  

I will be in touch in 48 hours with further instructions.  

 

Shane blinked, trying to understand the email. The words were so clear, but he couldn’t understand them for the life of him. He wasn’t disloyal – he'd never cheated on anyone before, no matter how much Ilya joked about Shane cheating on him with Rose. And he was with his boyfriend. It was the least cheating thing he could have ever done.  

He flinched when he finally looked at the audio attachment, making sure his speakers were off and clicking on it, his heart dropping when he saw the file length.  

Seventeen minutes.  

Shane looked up, wondering what his parents had thought as they listened to it. He wondered at what point they thought it was fake; whether it was whether Shane was moaning, or when he was begging Ilya to fuck his pussy, when he way crying because he wanted it harder, or when Shane was panting and begging Ilya to come inside him, or when Ilya was plugging him up and teasing him about being full of him all day.  

He hoped they didn’t listen to the whole thing. He was sure his father wouldn’t have, at least, but his mother...  

Shane knew she’d listened to it. Probably more than once. She’d probably been listening for anything that would give it away as fake. She’d probably been disgusted as she’d listened, assuming that there was no way Shane would beg for cock like that. She'd probably been even more disgusted when she realised it was real, and that Shane was a fucking degenerate. She'd probably assumed it was audio of some trashy porno, that real people didn’t talk like that or want the things that Shane wanted.  

That Ilya wanted, too, Shane reminded himself.  

He read the email again, trying to understand who would do this to him and why. This was targeted, that much was clear. Someone had specifically set out to hurt Shane, to catch him in the act, and they had done it. They’d caught Ilya in the crossfire, though, and that was unforgivable.  

Shane could survive being outed. He could survive being ostracised by his team and hated by the league and the public and he could even survive losing hockey.  

But he wouldn’t survive losing Ilya. He’d had a taste of life without Ilya the year before last, and he had barely survived it.  

Shane read the email again, and again and again, desperately trying to understand the wording.  

Honesty. Disloyal.  

Shane didn’t understand it. Ilya was his boyfriend. He hadn’t been disloyal to anyone.  

He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. He was spiralling. Shane knew, the way his thoughts were looping around in circles, that he wasn't being helpful at all. He just felt like there was something so obvious that he was missing.  

“Okay,” Yuna said, coming back to the table. “I’m gonna forward the email to Danny, he’s going to look into it. Not the attachment,” she said, looking at Shane. “He’s going to try and work out where the email account was created and by who.”  

Shane nodded, staring down at his mug.  

“Shane, the people around you,” Yuna started, looking awkward. “Does anybody know?”  

He shook his head. “No. I mean, Rose knows I’m gay, and that I’m with someone, but she’s the only one. And one person on his side, too. She knows about me, I think. That's it.”  

“That must be so lonely,” David said.  

Shane felt his teeth clench, but he didn’t say anything.  

“And there’s no way Rose would have told someone?” Yuna asked.  

“No,” he said tersely. “No way. I trust her. We don’t even text about it. She’s very careful to never ask me anything that would give it away.”  

She respects my privacy was on the tip of his tongue, but Shane kept himself in check. This wasn’t the time to start an argument. His parents were here, and they were trying their best.  

“And your friend in Boston, you trust them?” Yuna asked sceptically.  

“With our lives,” Shane answered, surprised at how much he meant it.  

Even without knowing Svetlana, he trusted her with Ilya’s life. He was sure she had been the one protecting him all these years before Shane had come along. Ilya had told him all about messy nights in Moscow and stolen cars and trying drugs and kissing boys in front of Svetlana. She'd been keeping Ilya safe from himself before Shane had even met him in Regina all those years ago.  

“Okay,” Yuna sighed. “So we just wait, then?”  

Shane stood, moving to his pantry and reaching up to the top shelf that he rarely looked at, pulling down a packet of salt and vinegar chips, chocolate biscuits and a packet of those candy snakes Ilya liked to stretch out with his teeth before eating. Shane left the box of chocolate wafers, bringing the rest to the table with a sigh as he opened the snakes and grabbed a green one.  

“I’d never seen you with this much junk food before,” David said, sounding amused.  

“It’s not mine,” Shane admitted.  

“I never figured you to be dating someone with a sweet tooth,” David smirked.  

Yuna was silent as she opened the chips and took a handful. “Is he why there’s always coke in the fridge?”  

“For when the boys come over as well, but yeah,” Shane said.  

“Shane,” Yuna said quietly. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me about everything going on with you.”  

Shane stared into the bag of snakes, reaching in to pull out the three orange ones that he could see, setting them aside so nobody ate them. Those were Ilya’s favourite.  

“It was just a lot,” Shane shrugged. “Something that I couldn’t really afford to think about for a long time.”  

“Because of hockey?” David asked.  

“Hockey, yeah, but there’s other things,” Shane said vaguely. “Neither of us can be public about it.”  

His parents both nodded in understanding, even though Shane was sure neither of them would ever be able to truly comprehend the fear he felt about Russia. He hoped that it was enough to keep them off his back, though.  

Shane checked his phone. He was suddenly desperate to call Ilya again, to find out if he’d found anything. But if he had, he would have called Shane.  

He rolled his shoulders, trying to stay calm. They were handling it the best they could. They just had to wait.  

Shane hated waiting.  

It was the same feeling on the ice, when he was forced to take a break and catch his breath, forced to watch the second or third line do their best but not as good as he would have played.  

They sat in silence, staring at their phones, and waited.  

>>>  

Yuna's friend had found out that the email address was created in Canada with a dummy phone number. Ilya had texted that he and Svetlana were at the Ritz and had slipped the security team a ridiculous amount of cash to view the camera footage from that night.  

And Shane was sitting and waiting.  

The sun had begun to set. He briefly thought that he should offer his parents food, but the idea of eating made him sick to his stomach. He'd finished all the green snakes, and he was on his sixth cup of tea of the day.  

He should order in, maybe. He only really had his prepared meals from his nutritionist, and he didn’t really feel like trying to scrounge around to Frankenstein a meal together. Ilya could, if he were here. He once manage to cobble together some sort of creamy pasta dish with nothing but skim milk and tomato paste.  

“I’m gonna order some food, are you guys okay with Chinese?” Shane asked.  

When they both nodded, he called the place down the block, smiling when Melanie answered.  

“Hey, Shane! Your usual?” she asked.  

“Ah, no, I’m grabbing something different tonight,” he said tightly.  

He hadn’t thought he and Ilya ordered from them so much that they had a regular, but apparently they did. Shane could feel his parents listening in and watching.  

“Okay doll, twenty minutes,” Melanie said. “Greg picking up?”  

“Ah, no, my dad will grab it, just keep it under my name,” Shane instructed.  

He said goodbye and hung up, knowing that his parents were probably having one of their silent conversations.  

He was sure they wouldn’t be able to work out who Greg was. Shane had laughed profusely the first time Ilya had told him that when he went to coffee shops, he put Greg down as his name because Ilya was too hard to explain during peak coffee times. Shane had asked why Greg of all names, and Ilya had shrugged and said sometimes he used Alex.  

Shane had held onto that knowledge for over a year before he asked Ilya about it at Christmas, seeing Ilya’s middle name signed on the deed to the cottage. Ilya had shrugged and said that it was easier to use an anglicised version of his middle name, the name he shared with his father and brother that he didn’t usually care for, and Shane had kissed him and promised him that if he ever wanted another name, he could have it, and Ilya hadn’t said anything but he’d kissed Shane so hard that Shane had nearly passed out.  

His parents wouldn’t put it together, he was sure of that much. Not even his mother would solve this riddle.  

Shane moved around, trying to keep himself busy and set the table as his dad walked down to collect the food. He kept his phone on him, willing Ilya to call and tell him that everything was going to be okay.  

>>>  

Shane jumped up from the table as the phone rang, leaving his parents behind looking anxious as he stepped outside onto the balcony.  

“Hey.”  

“Hey,” Ilya said, his voice tense. “We met with security and checked cameras. Sveta checked other rooms as well to see what was normal. Two maids came and cleaned the room before you checked in, all normal. But your room had someone come in for a few minutes then leave. We checked the time, it was when we were on the ice.”  

Shane tried to understand what Ilya was saying. “So you have footage?”  

“Sveta is sending it to me right now, I'll send it to you,” Ilya said. “See if you recognise him. He seemed to know his way around. Security said he doesn’t work for them.”  

“But he had a key?” Shane asked.  

“Yeah, keycard to your room,” Ilya said.  

“We only get one when we check in, though.”  

“Maybe someone took from you?” Ilya suggested.  

“What if it was Hayden’s?” Shane realised. “What if we were given two keys automatically and someone took one?”  

“Someone on your team?”  

“I mean, it has to be, right?” Shane asked.  

“Sveta has photos, I’m sending to you now,” Ilya said.  

Shane could hear the tension in his voice. He waited for the text to come through, turning up his screen brightness to see everything as clearly as he could.  

“I don’t recognise him,” Shane said, disappointment and frustration settling deep in his stomach.  

“Okay,” Ilya said. “Okay, it’s okay, Shane. Sveta and the security are working on it.”  

“You have the hotel security working on it?” Shane repeated.  

Ilya hummed. “Sveta has American cousins that owe her many favours for cleaning up their messes. She said he looks familiar to her somehow, so that’s good.”  

Shane scoffed in disbelief. “You make it sound like she runs a whole army.”  

“Mm, not far off,” Ilya said, almost amused. “So you don’t know this man?”  

“I don’t think so?” Shane tried to scan his brain. “It’s kind of like I've forgotten every face I’ve ever seen before. I'm gonna ask my mom.”  

“Okay,” Ilya sighed.  

Shane could hear the lighter flicking through the phone; he could practically see Ilya frowning, his eyes probably closed as he rubbed his forehead in frustration.  

“I’m sorry,” Shane whispered.  

“Shut up,” Ilya said softly.  

“Okay,” Shane said, allowing himself to smile before he realised his was far from over. “Okay. I'm gonna see if my mom can find anything and let you know. She has some guy she knows at Google tracking the email.”  

Ilya snorted. “And you think Sveta is KGB. Sounds like your mother could be secret agent, too.”  

“Mm, maybe not,” Shane disagreed. “She thought the evidence was fake, remember.”  

Ilya laughed for a second before the line went silent. “I hate this.”  

“Me, too,” Shane said softly. “Thank you for going there and trying to figure this out. And thank Svetlana for me.”  

“Don’t worry about it,” Ilya dismissed. “Maybe instead of a thank you, Sveta can come meet you when you are in Boston next time.”  

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, smiling to himself at how nervous Ilya sounded at the prospect of that. “Yeah, dinner at home, maybe?”  

Ilya was silent before he choked out a soft yes. Shane let him go with an I love you and go get some sleep before he went back inside and sent the photos to Yuna’s phone.  

“Mom,” he called out as he stepped back inside. “I’m sending you some photos, do you recognise this guy?”  

David leaned in and waited for the photos to come through to Yuna’s phone, frowning when they sent across.  

“I don’t think so, but he does look familiar?” Yuna said.  

Shane sat back down as Yuna reached for her laptop and started typing. “What are you doing?”  

“I’m just checking Facebook,” Yuna said.  

“You have over a thousand friends,” David said.  

“It has to be someone connected to the team, I think,” Shane said. “We think someone had access to Hayden’s key and took it when they knew he wasn’t there. So someone must have known my pattern.”  

“Your pattern?” David asked.  

Shane squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. “When I have a hotel room to myself, I see – Lily. Or I used to.”  

“Used to?” Yuna asked.  

“However it worked out with travel,” Shane said vaguely. He could see his parents had questions, but they thankfully stayed quiet as they looked through the profiles of everybody she knew that worked for the Metros.  

Shane managed to get some rice down as he went onto the team intranet on his own laptop and scrolled through face after face in the staff directory, hoping somebody would jump out at him.  

>>>  

His parents had started yawning around eleven. Shane watched them hold out for a while before finally ordering them to go to bed in the spare bedroom, handing them each a set of unworn pyjamas, carefully avoiding Ilya’s side of the closet. He changed into one of Ilya’s t shirts and threadbare gym shorts that Shane had stolen nearly two years ago, lying in bed awake for too long before he decided to go and make himself one last tea for the night.  

Practice was optional tomorrow, and he so rarely skipped them that he figured missing one wouldn’t kill him or his standing with the coaching staff. Shane turned off his alarm as he leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil.  

Shane almost didn’t hear the key in the lock. He looked to the front door, his breath catching as Ilya stepped inside, already scanning the condo for him as he kicked off his shoes.  

“Holy shit,” Shane breathed.  

Ilya moved fast, striding into the kitchen and grabbing Shane. Shane kissed him desperately, hardly able to process the fact that Ilya was here.  

"What the fuck,” Shane muttered against his lips. “You’re here.”  

“Yeah,” Ilya said, pulling away to look at him. “Had to see you. Are you okay?”  

Shane didn't answer, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s waist and holding him close. He could hear the kettle click off, but there was no way he was going to move right now. Not when Ilya’s heart was racing beneath his ear, frantic and erratic and perfect.  

“You taste like you licked an ashtray,” Shane said instead.  

Ilya sighed dramatically, but he held onto Shane tighter. “Stressful day, leave me alone. I still haven’t showered from the game, smoke is better than sweat.”  

“Is it? Did you smoke in your car?” Shane asked, sniffing his shirt and grimacing. He smelled like he’d been to one of those bonfire parties Shane’s classmates used to have back in high school. The least disturbing thing was the ten hour old sweat.  

“Oh my god, give me a break,” Ilya whined, letting go of Shane and moving to the opposite counter to hit the kettle to boil again.  

Shane watched as Ilya moved through the kitchen, grabbing another mug from the cabinet above the stove and setting it next to Shane’s.  

“Are you okay?” Shane asked.  

He could see the way Ilya tried to school his face and smile, but it was thin. “Yes,” he lied. ‘I just needed to sleep next to you tonight.”  

“I know what you mean,” Shane agreed. He left the unspoken part unspoken; that they both worried that it could be their last chance to sleep next to one another if this was leaked and Ilya was deported.  

Nobody knew Ilya was here, at least. Maybe Shane could just keep him locked up in the condo; Ilya wouldn’t have to leave, and they could quit hockey. Fuck hockey. Fuck Russia.  

Ilya smiled at him, a real one, as he grabbed two tea bags and put them in his mug, adding a second one for Shane. Shane hadn’t understood why Ilya liked his tea so strong, but he was past asking those sorts of questions these days. Shane just made sure to buy the large boxes of tea bags now.  

“I’m sorry you had to waste your day trying to find this guy,” Shane said quietly.  

Ilya shook his head as he filled their mugs, his face carefully blank as he turned to look at Shane.  

Shane hated how he did that; Shane was much too expressive, everyone had always told him. Everyone could read his every thought, because he had no filter between his brain and his face. Ilya was the complete opposite, and Shane hated it.  

He knew Ilya pretty well now, he liked to think. He knew how Ilya thought, and how he operated. But sometimes he worried he’d miss things, that Ilya was too practiced at hiding his real feelings and Shane wouldn’t be able to work it out in time.  

“Don’t be sorry,” Ilya said firmly. “Sveta’s cousin Adrian was very helpful. He’s asking around to see if anyone knows the guy.”  

“What are the odds someone will be able to identify him?” Shane asked, deflating.  

“Everyone knows somebody in Boston,” Ilya shrugged. “Sveta thinks she has seen him before.”  

“We have like, a day and a half to either pay this guy or lose everything,” Shane said, staring down at his feet.  

Ilya shuffled back into his space. Shane didn’t look up as Ilya crowded him, pressing their hips together and moving his hands up his body. Shane sighed as Ilya reached for his thighs, letting himself smile as Ilya lifted him to sit up on the counter.  

He spread his legs reflexively, giving Ilya room to step between them. Ilya reached for his neck, and Shane went lax in his grip as Ilya tilted his face up, bringing his lips to Shane’s.  

Shane heard a soft whimper as they kissed, unsure if it was him or Ilya, and unable to care. Ilya’s hand tightened around his neck, just a little. Shane pulled Ilya closer, wrapping his legs around his hips and pulling him closer. The kiss became frantic and messy as Shane sucked on Ilya’s tongue, as Ilya rucked Shane’s shirt up and dug his fingers into his hips –  

Ilya pulled away from him so fast Shane nearly fell off the counter. He blinked as he tried to understand why he moved away, finally following Ilya’s eyeline up to the stairs where his parents were standing.  

“Oh, fuck,” Shane cursed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple.  

“I can go,” Ilya said lowly into his shoulder.  

Shane shook his head. “No, don’t. Sorry, I forgot you were here,” he said, nodding towards his parents.  

“Oh,” Yuna said tersely.  

“We’re sorry, we saw the light still on and just wanted to check on you,” David said, sounding more level than anyone.  

“I was just making tea,” Shane explained. “Ilya surprised me.”  

Ilya grimaced, reaching for his tea and handing one mug to Shane. “I should have asked.”  

“No, you never have to,” Shane said firmly. He took his tea and looked at his parents, lingering on the landing on the stairs, looking shellshocked. “Do you wanna just –”  

He gestured to the table, walking there and sitting in his usual spot. He smiled as Ilya sat next to him in his chair, hardly able to bring himself to look at his parents as they sat opposite them.  

Yuna looked ashen, but David looked the way he always did. Mildly interested and very focused on his wife, waiting to see how she would react before saying anything.  

“Mom, Dad, this is Ilya. Rozanov,” Shane said, nodding to Ilya, who was clearly trying to hide a smirk at his awkwardness. “But I guess – you already know that.”  

David smiled, but Yuna looked like she had seen a ghost.  

“So, in that recording -”  

“Yeah,” Shane said quietly, cutting her off. He didn’t want her to finish her sentence.  

“Sorry about that,” Ilya said in a soft voice. “We didn’t know –”  

“Of course not,” David cut in. “How would you.”  

Ilya smiled tightly as he sipped at his tea. Shane hated the way Ilya left the tea bags in as he drank them when the steeping instructions were only for four minutes. It had been at least ten.  

“So you two, you’re together?” Yuna asked.  

“Yes,” Shane said at the same time as Ilya. He relaxed a little when he felt Ilya shift closer to him, pressing his thigh against Shane’s. He could feel Ilya shaking before he realised that Ilya was being twitchy and jiggling his leg.  

“And it’s serious?” Yuna said.  

“Very,” Shane said, stating it firmly, leaving no room for argument. “Look, we aren’t going to justify this to anyone. It's been a long time, and we’re committed to each other. We're taking steps to make this work for real. But we have a lot of things to do before we can like, announce it.”  

“Of course,” Yuna nodded. “With the league and –”  

“What?” Shane asked in disbelief. “Fuck the league. We need Ilya’s citizenship sorted with Canada so he doesn’t get deported back to Russia first. It's illegal to be gay there.”  

Yuna looked stricken as she turned to David.  

“Fuck the league,” Ilya repeated with a smile on his face, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against his mug.  

Shane rolled his eyes. “Don’t.”  

Ilya held his hand up in mock surrender. Shane knew when this all died down, Ilya would be reminding him of a time he didn’t give a shit about hockey.  

“Okay, so, this is a bit more involved than I thought,” Yuna admitted helplessly.  

“Yeah, well,” Shane shrugged.  

Ilya fidgeted next to him, but he stayed quiet.  

“What would happen” David asked.  

“Not sure,” Ilya said. Shane could hear the false nonchalance in his voice. “Deported, probably. The league would bow to Russia, they have too many players coming to play for America. Russia would make an example of me, probably.”  

“Ilya’s brother’s a cop,” Shane explained. “He’d probably -”  

“Oh, he’d help keep you safe,” Yuna interjected.  

The laugh Ilya let out was mean and cold, and Shane caught the way his parents flinched at it.  

“Um, no,” Shane clarified. “No, so it’s not something we can risk.”  

David nodded as he looked between the two of them. “So earlier, you were in Boston?”  

Ilya nodded. “A friend of mine has a cousin that works at the hotel. We give some cash, they show us security cameras, we checked to see who came into Shane’s room. Two cleaning girls and one man. We checked the other rooms for the Metros, the man only went into Shane’s room.”  

“And neither of you have ever seen him before?” Yuna asked.  

They both shook their heads.  

“This has to be someone close to one of you,” Yuna deduced. “There’s no other way they would have known. I mean, you’ve kept this secret for a while now?”  

Shane knew she was fishing, but he wasn’t in the mood. Not right now. “Yeah,” was all he said.  

Ilya drummed his fingers on the table next to him, and Shane cracked.  

“Go smoke, it’s fine,” he said.  

Ilya scoffed, looking between Shane and his parents. “I do not smoke.”  

“You’re twitchy because you need a cigarette, right?”  

“No,” Ilya lied emphatically.  

Shane stared at him, watching as Ilya crumbled.  

“Even if I wanted to, I don’t have any cigarettes,” Ilya said.  

“You bought a carton two days ago,” Shane said in disbelief.  

“Yes! And today was very stressful, so now I have none!” Ilya snapped.  

“What about the pack you stashed inside the chocolate cereal?” Shane asked.  

If today wasn’t the worst day of Shane’s life, he might have enjoyed the look of horror that crossed Ilya’s face. Maybe he would appreciate it down the line, when Ilya had quit and nobody had outed themand they could laugh about a time when Ilya used to hide cigarettes around the house where he thought Shane wouldn’t find them.  

Ilya grimaced as he stood, apologising to Shane’s parents as he made his way to the pantry. Shane listened to the rustling of the cereal box as Ilya took the bag out and grabbed the cigarettes underneath before making his way out to the balcony.  

“How did you know he hid them there?” David asked.  

“He’s nowhere near as slick as he thinks he is,” Shane sighed. “And that box has been out of date for nearly two years, and he refuses to let me throw it out. Same with the box of band aids in the bathroom that he’s never touched and the Fast and the Furious DVD that doesn’t have a DVD in it.”  

Yuna laughed, but it sounded dry. “Two years,” she repeated.  

“Look,” Shane said, sitting forward. “It’s been a bad day, and maybe I didn’t facilitate the best first impression for Ilya, but this is real. This is it for me. So if you aren’t on board –”  

“We’re on board,” Yuna said quickly.  

“Of course we are,” David agreed. “He just looks exhausted.”  

“He played a game today,” Shane said quietly. “I called him the second he got off the ice, and he went straight to the hotel, then drove four hours here. He's stressed. And he’s never gonna admit it, but he’sscared.”  

“Okay,” Yuna nodded. “Okay. We’re doing everything we can, right? We are going to get this sorted, Shane.”  

He nodded as the balcony door slid open and Ilya walked back inside, sitting back down next to Shane.  

“Sorry,” Ilya said. “Only coffee and cigarettes today. Oh,” he perked up, grabbing the orange snakes on the table.  

Shane didn’t say a word as his parents watched Ilya chew on his snakes, Yuna’s mouth twitching when Ilya said that orange was his favourite flavour.  

>>>  

He listened as the shower shut off, staring at the ceiling. Shane could hear Ilya drying off as he stepped out of the shower, could hear the hamper open and shut as he dropped his towel in there, could hear the sink run as he brushed his teeth, could hear the light switch as he turned it off.  

Shane smiled as Ilya shut the door to the ensuite and walked naked through the room, climbing into bed and curling up next to Shane. He burrowed into Ilya’s warmth, glad he had already removed his own clothes.  

“I can’t believe you drove straight here,” Shane whispered.  

Ilya leaned in to kiss him, so sweet and wet and hot. “I was worried. If something happened, I just. I don’t know.”  

“No, same,” Shane admitted. “If anything happens, at least you’re in Canada.”  

Ilya's mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. He kissed Shane again, slower and deeper and filthier than before. “Can we – I need to feel you.”  

“Yeah,” Shane breathed, nodding as he pulled Ilya on top of him, spreading his legs and reaching for the bottle of lube he’d tucked between the pillows and the headboard.  

Their sex was soft and desperate and tender. Shane was sure they had never in their lives been so quiet, what with his parents just down the hall, but he was also certain that they’d never needed to feel safe as much as they did tonight.  

>>>  

Shane groaned at the noise, taking a moment to realise what he was hearing.  

Ilya was already rolling off him and moving away, silencing the shrill noise –  

And he was speaking Russian. Shane tried to wake himself up as Ilya talked fast, trying to catch the words he knew. Svetlana, who, where, what, man, fight, Shane, Canada, team, kill.  

Maybe. Shane's Russian was still horrific, and he hadn’t been able to get as much practice in during the season as he had hoped. But he definitely heard Shane.  

He sat up, rubbing Ilya’s back as he talked, waiting. Shane didn’t dare hope that Svetlana had found the guy that recorded them, but there was something steely in Ilya’s tone that hinted that something had turned up.  

Shane looked at Ilya expectantly as he hung up, turning to look at Shane.  

“She found him,” Ilya said.  

“What the fuck? Seriously?” Shane breathed.  

Ilya still looked grim. “He has a cousin in Canada that put him up to it.”  

“Okay, so now the email address kind of makes sense,” Shane said. “Who’s his cousin?”  

>>>  

Shane knocked on the door to the tiny townhouse, glancing at his dad next to him. He didn’t move as the door swung open and he looked his blackmailer in the eye.  

“Hollander,” Baker said, his eyes wide.  

“Coach,” Shane greeted. “Can we talk?”  

Shane pushed the door open and stepped inside, shoving Baker into the house. He heard his father close the door behind them, his steady presence behind him reassuring.  

“Sure,” Baker said.  

Shane could already see the way Baker was looking around for a way put. He almost wanted him to try; there as no way a forty five year old man who hadn’t moved his body since he quit playing fifteen years ago could outrun Shane, let alone overpower him. Shane had seen him roll into training with a full fat iced coffee and croissant every morning for the last three years.  

“So. You sent my mother an email,” Shane said.  

He stayed silent as Baker’s eyes darted between Shane and David, trying to work out what to say.  

“It’s okay, Baker,” Shane sighed. “We already talked to Nick.”  

Baker's eyes snapped to his, his face paling. “Who’s Nick?”  

“Your cousin in Boston, right?” Shane asked. “He signed an NDA for me this morning.”  

Baker huffed out a terrified laugh. That was good, Shane figured. Ilya had wanted to come and beat the shit out of him with his bare hands, but Shane wanted a cleaner approach. Besides, he didn’t think it would be a good idea to have Ilya roaming around the streets of Montreal when Boston had a practice that he was supposed to be in in about half an hour.  

“Nick signed an NDA?” Baker repeated.  

Shane hummed and nodded. “Yeah, he mentioned that you had seen a guy leave my hotel room once and that you wanted to extort me for being gay. He also said that you had some gambling debt you were hoping to clear.”  

Baker was silent.  

“So here’s what we’re going to do,” Shane said. “Nick said you had about four hundred thousand in debt. I want an NDA signed, and I want you to hand in your resignation with the Metros before I leave.”  

Baker shook his head. Shane heard David step forward and heard him click a pen. Baker reached out reflexively, taking the papers and pen from David.  

“Sign the NDA and the resignation letter,” Shane instructed. “Hand over any copies you hvae of the recording. I’ll settle your debt in exchange, and then you fucking disappear.”  

Baker opened his mouth, but David just shook his head.  

“It’s not a discussion,” David said calmly.  

“How’d you get Nicky to sign this?” Baker asked, his voice shaky.  

“My friends asked him to politely,” Shane said.  

The truth was that he had no idea. Apparently Svetlana had gotten Nick to sign the NDA Yuna had sent across within two minutes of stepping inside his house. Shane had asked Ilya if any violence was involved, and Ilya had gasped dramatically and called him racist.  

So Shane figured the answer was probably yes.  

He understood the urge. Shane wanted to break Baker’s entire fucking face. He wanted to send him to the hospital bloody and battered and legally unable to tell anyone what happened to him, and he wanted Baker to live in fear of Shane and Ilya and what they could do to them.  

Baker must have sensed that Shane wasn’t going to leave without the NDA signed, because he bent over the dining table and skimmed through the NDA, signing the tabs that Yuna had stuck to it. Shane watched as he handed it back to David, waiting for his father to nod and fold it back into his coat pocket.  

“The resignation,” Shane prompted.  

Baker looked ashen as he signed it, handing it back to David as well. They stood in silence for a long moment, waiting, as Baker looked confused.  

“The recording?” Shane said, impatient and testy.  

Baker moved to a chest of drawers, grabbing his laptop and a USB and handing it over to David. David caught his eye and nodded, and Shane nodded back. He waited as David stepped outside, glad to be alone with Baker.  

“You know what’s funny?” Shane asked. “I thought you were a pretty solid assistant coach. You could have stepped up under Theriault if you’d stuck at it. And if you’d asked us for help, we would have helped you.”  

“And now you fucked me,” Baker spat.  

“You fucked yourself,” Shane said.  

Before he could stop himself, before he could even pretend to try and talk himself out of it, he grabbed Baker and punched him once, twice in the face, hearing his nose break. Baker screamed, crumpling to the ground in shock. Shane stood as the door opened, noticing the way David didn’t even blink at the sight in front of him.  

“Here,” David said, leaving the bag by the door. “Enough cash to cover your debt, and six months salary until you find a new job.”  

“If I ever catch sight of you again,” Shane said lowly, “I’m not gonna stop at your nose.”  

Baker nodded, pinching his nose and trying to stem the bleeding. Shane turned and followed his father out, shutting the door behind him. They were silent until they got into the car, David thankfully driving.  

“Jesus, Shane.”  

“I feel fucking sick,” Shane said, bending down to rest his head on his knees. “I’ve never fought with someone just for the sake of it.”  

“I once broke a guy’s jaw for grabbing your mother’s butt in a bar,” David admitted.  

Shane sat up straight and looked at his father, confused. “You did?”  

“Yeah,” David smiled to himself as he started the car. “Scared the shit out of myself. But it’s not like I go around fighting people for sport, right? It's different when you’re protecting your family.”  

“Right,” Shane nodded.  

He looked down at his bloodied knuckles as they drove away, tipping his head back against the seat and wishing Ilya had been there to see him throw a punch like that in his honour.  

>>>  

Shane moaned softly as Ilya drove into him, grateful that his parents had finally left after lunch.  

Ilya grabbed his hand and licked at the bloody, broken skin of his knuckles before he kissed Shane, grunting loudly as he fucked him hard.  

“Fuck,” Shane breathed as Ilya hitched his leg up higher, his fingers curling tightly into his thigh.  

“Fuck you, Hollander,” Ilya moaned. “Fucking, breaking noses and firing coaches. Fuck.”  

“Fuck,” Shane moaned in agreement.  

Ilya grabbed his wrist and held it above his head. Shane could see the way his eyes were locked on his already bruised knuckles, and suddenly Shane wished he had murdered Baker with his bare hands and brought back his dismembered head as a trophy for Ilya. He wished he could have Ilya desperate for him and impressed by him like this all the time.  

Shane hated that he suddenly understood every romance novel Rose texted him about.  

“I wanted to kill him,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya's eyes were already glassy as he stared at him, his hips moving harder and faster. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah, I wanted to bring back pieces of him for you as proof,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya grabbed him by the neck and held him down, kissing him on so filthily Shane could feel it down his chin. He started muttering in Russian. Shane couldn’t understand anything but the swear words and his name, losing focus as Ilya squeezed his neck a little more and fucked him harder, harder still as his curses in Russian became louder and more desperate  -  

Shane came with a shout, flinching as hot wet ropes of come shot up his chest, up to his chin. He must have looked filthy, because Ilya came as Shane was still shaking, coming inside him with such fervour Shane wasn’t sure it would ever stop.  

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ilya mumbled, letting go of Shane’s neck and leg and leaning up to catch his breath.  

“Yeah,” Shane agreed.  

“Lucky that one wasn’t on camera,” Ilya snarked.  

Shane laughed, relief sweeping through him as Ilya brushed his hand through Shane’s sweaty hair, smiling down at him.  

All he’d wanted to do was keep Ilya safe, and here with him.  

He hoped more than anything that he’d done it.  

 

July 2018  

“You wanna what?”  

“Just once?”  

Shane shook his head and stood, shaking off Ilya’s hand from his arm. “No.”  

“That’s not fair,” Ilya whined, following him back in from the deck. “You got to listen to it.”  

“Got to?” Shane repeated. “It wasn’t, like, a treat for me, you know. I was scared we would be outed.”  

Ilya rolled his eyes dramatically. It made Shane want to shove him into the fucking lake when he acted like this.  

“I can’t fucking believe you wanna get off to our blackmail tape,” Shane said.  

“I can’t believe four people have listened to it and I am not one of them!” Ilya shot back.  

Shane shook his head, but Ilya wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed his neck softly.  

“Fine,” Ilya sighed. “Not fair, but fine.”  

Shane shook his head as he hugged Ilya back. It was hot, from what Shane had remembered. He hadn’t really thought about it since that weekend, if he could help it.  

>>>  

“Shane, please, I can’t argue about chairs again,” Ilya said as he walked into the bedroom, nodding at the laptop on Shane’s lap. “Just pick the ones you like the most, I don’t care.”  

“No, it’s not the chairs,” Shane dismissed. “I already got the black ones with the green stitching.”  

Ilya rolled his eyes; he had liked the brown leather ones, saying black was too depressing and furniture should be lighter. But he also ate his dinner at the kitchen counter most nights, so Shane figured he didn’t actually care that much and just liked picking fights about stupid domestic things with Shane so they could fuck about it.  

“Come on, we’re going to listen to something,” Shane said.  

Ilya’s jaw dropped as he climbed into bed next to Shane, looking at him with wide eyes. “Really?”  

“Once,” Shane stipulated.  

“Okay, fine, once,” Ilya agreed, grabbing the laptop off of Shane and navigating to the window Shane already had pulled up to listen. “I can play?”  

Shane nodded, bracing himself.  

There was mostly shuffling around, but the moaning and panting started pretty quickly. Shane remembered that night with such clarity; the way Ilya had kissed him up against the door. The way Ilya had stripped him before he had shoved him down onto the bed. The way Ilya had worked him open so slowly up to three fingers, ignoring every whine and plea Shane made for more.  

He watched as Ilya listened to the recording, smirking to himself as he taunted Shane for wanting more, his cheeks red and his eyes glazed over.  

Shane could feel himself get hard as Ilya on the tape teased him, a little mean, just the way Shane loved, making him beg for more. He felt himself flush as Ilya called him pathetic and desperate and made fun of him for being such a needy slut.  

He watched as Ilya reached to stroke himself when Shane told him that he loved him, his hand slowly working his hard cock through his underwear as he listened intently.  

Shane couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed at the way he was crying and begging in the recording. He was just focused on Ilya, hard and red and breathing heavily as their past selves moaned and cried for each other.  

At least, until the Ilya in the recording asked Shane if his tight pussy was all for him.  

Ilya groaned and moved the laptop to the nightstand as he pulled his underwear off, crawling on top of Shane and kissing him hard. Shane could barely breathe as Ilya slapped his hip, wanting Shane to take off his own boxer briefs.  

Is this tight fucking pussy all for me, Hollander? came through the shitty laptop speaker.  

“Fuck,” Ilya moaned into Shane’s ear as he humped against him, his warm, soft skin making Shane feel insane with want.  

“All yours, always for you,” Shane breathed. Distantly, he could hear those same words echoing through the room.  

“Your tight pussy all for me?” Ilya asked, biting his neck. “Wet like a fucking slut, Hollander, like a fucking girl –”  

Shane cried out as Ilya licked into his mouth as he wrapped a hand around both their cocks, stroking them together.  

It was dry and uncomfortable but Shane couldn’t bring himself to tell Ilya to stop or spit or go slower, couldn’t bring himself to have Ilya move away from him even for a second. But Ilya moved away first, rifling through Shane’s bedside and grabbing the lube, letting Shane uncap it and drizzle it all over their dicks –  

Shane moaned loudly as Ilya frantically spread the lube between them, his eyes heavy as his orgasm crept up on him. Ilya's hands, so practised and perfect and calloused and warm had Shane crying out and coming in time with past Shane in the recording. Ilya somehow managed to hold off as Shane humped against his hand, aftershocks from his orgasm rippling through his stomach.  

“Jesus Christ,” Shane heard himself say, and he had no idea if it was from his mouth right now, or from the tape.  

Ilya tensed above him, his cock twitching against Shane’s half hard dick as Ilya kept pumping them both –  

You gonna come for me? You gonna come inside me? Fill me up? You gonna make me sit on a bus with my team with your come leaking out of me?  

Shane flushed at the words he had moaned in the past, but Ilya came, painting Shane’s abs with his release, white and hot, moaning as he worked himself through it.  

The audio ended shortly after, the two of them listening in uncomfortably comfortable silence as Ilya plugged Shane up, stuffed full of his come, in a shitty Boston hotel room nearly a year ago. Shane sighed with relief as silence filled the room, listening to Ilya’s soft breathing into his neck.  

“No wonder Yuna thought it was fake,” Ilya finally said. “We sound like fucking porn.”  

Shane laughed at that, shaking his head. “Please, never, ever talk about my mother when your hand is wrapped around my dick ever again.”  

Ilya choked on a laugh as he sat up to kiss Shane sweetly, but Shane noticed that he never agreed.  

He'd worry about that another night.