Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Meet-Cute, Dating, Developing Relationship, Crushes, Texting, Model Ilya Rozanov, Hockey Player Shane Hollander, Thigh Riding, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Light Dom/sub, No Angst, Additional Warnings in Author's Note, POV Alternating, Shane has supportive friends, Getting Together, Fluff, Shane Hollander is out

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-07-30 Words: 18,707 Chapters: 1/1

that sudden rush of the world

Summary

“This is just crazy,” J.J. said. “Give me that, Pike, I’ve got one he absolutely can’t pass.”

“Oh, so you’re saying it’s my fault?” Hayden asked.

“Skill issue.” J.J. paused. “Ok. Pedro Pascal.” His voice was smug. 

A long silence stretched while Shane Hollander looked at the camera, seemingly deciding whether it was worth it to lie.

“No!” J.J. said, horrified. 

“Pass… I—What?”

“The entire internet wants to fuck this man!”

“Okay?!” Shane Hollander said, throwing his arms out. “I don’t know what to tell you!”

“Jesus Christ, okay.” Hayden shuffled behind the camera. “Ilya Rozanov.”

A flush bloomed across Shane Hollander’s freckled face, intensifying so fast it looked like his face was on fire. 

“Uhm.” He pressed his lips together before his shoulders dropped in resignation. “Smash.”

Or: A clip of Shane Hollander playing smash or pass goes viral and Ilya wants to eat him alive.

Notes

I didn't tag it because I don't want to over-promise, but I always call myself lowkey demi and Shane's thoughts about attraction here are basically modelled after my own, so maybe a smidge of demisexual Shane? But I also don't want to misrepresent anything so this is really just based on my personal experience.

An additional NSWF warning: I didn't tag spanking because it seems a bit too much, but there is a brief ass slap if that is something that bothers you!

I tried my hand at coding the messages and oh boy I don't know if that'll be happening again haha! Also you can click the few Russian words I have there for a translation :)
There are 4 instagram DMs that are images in this. If they don't show up, try the links in the end notes!

Title from a poem I love by Ellen Bass called Any Common Desolation

Thank you to pincebutt for looking this over for me!

sveta

sveta

You should be so glad I'm not there

Ilya

??

i'm always glad you're not here

sveta

God fuck off you're so annoying

I saw you on Eva's story yesterday

You were fucked up

I would be banging pots and pans in your kitchen

Ilya

oh so you want my head to explode

you’re the devil

my worst friend

sveta

You have the armani shoot tomorrow

Ilya

i’m best friends with the make up artists

they got my back

sveta

You mean you fucked them all

Ilya

🙄 yes, Sveta, i fucked every make up artist in the industry

sveta

How was the party?

Ilya

you would've known this if you didn't abandon me

sveta

Aw little baby

Ilya

it was boring

boring people

Ilya dropped the phone onto his chest and rubbed both hands over his face. His head hadn’t been this bad in a while and if he moved too much he had a feeling he’d throw up. And even as drunk as he’d been last night, he really had been bored. It was the same people, always just the same people, rehashing the same drama, the same people getting caught fucking in the bathroom. 

When Ilya had first landed in New York, he’d spent the first two years bartending at the bar Sveta worked at. He hadn’t hated it, at least not at first, but when he finally got a single finger in the door of the modeling industry he never looked back. He still remembered the feeling of that first party, feeling unstoppable and on top of the world. The buzz of it had been unreal. All those beautiful people, seeing how they reacted to him, realizing he’d make it if he just played it all right. 

And now it was all so fucking tedious.

sveta

sveta

Wait omfg you have to see this

instagram.com/reels/3Kdl56

 

Ilya groaned, expecting to find some stupid video from the party. Instead, he opened a reel posted by some random account named Hayden Pike. The phone was pointed at a guy in hockey gear looking uncomfortable. Ilya sat up slightly, ignoring the rolling feeling in his stomach. Fuck, the guy was hot. His body was, obviously, athletic, but what really punched Ilya right in the gut was his face. He was pretty. His lips were full and he had big, beautiful, brown eyes that could probably send Ilya to his knees in an instance. And, worst of all, there were freckles scattered across his cheeks. Ilya hadn’t even considered himself a freckles kinda guy before, but fuck. 

The guy behind the camera spoke first. 

“So, as we all know, my dearest friend Shane Hollander has come out as gay and every man should be out there thanking him for it. Should be on their knees in gratitude!”

“Hayden,” Shane Hollander said, rolling his eyes, his shoulders still hunched up to his ears. 

“We’re playing a game! Smash or pass!”

“I can’t believe I said yes to this.”

“Loosen up, Hollzy!” was yelled from somewhere off screen. 

“Troy Barrett.”

“Troy Barrett?” Shane Hollander scrunched his nose. “What, are you just gonna ask me about other gay hockey players? This might be homophobic, Hayden.”

“Just answer the question, oh my god.”

“Pass.”

“Pass?” Said the voice off screen, accompanied by a snort. “Okay, dude.”

“Am I playing or are you playing, J.J.?”

“Harry Styles.” 

“I don’t—”

“You’re not allowed to say you’ve never heard of Harry Styles.”

Shane Hollander just snapped his mouth shut, staring at the person behind the camera with a lost expression. Ilya burst out laughing, and then groaned, bringing a hand up to his forehead as if he could push the headache out and away. 

“Oh, that guy,” Shane Hollander said. “Pass.”

“Michael B. Jordan.” 

Shane Hollander squinted to a spot behind the camera and it was clear that someone behind it was now holding up photos of people. 

“Uh, I guess, pass? He looks like a nice guy, though.”

“He looks like a nice guy,” the voice off screen deadpanned. 

“Yes, J.J.,” Shane Hollander snapped. “Ever heard of it?”

“I—You know, never mind.”

“Jonathan Bailey.” 

“Uh.” Shane Hollander rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Pass?”

“This is just crazy,” J.J. said. “Give me that, Pike, I’ve got one he absolutely can’t pass.”

“Oh, so you’re saying it’s my fault?” Hayden asked.

“Skill issue.” J.J. paused. “Ok. Pedro Pascal.” His voice was smug. 

A long silence stretched while Shane Hollander looked at the camera, seemingly deciding whether it was worth it to lie.

“No!” J.J. said, horrified. 

“There’s no way, dude.” Hayden was laughing.

“Pass… I—What?”

“The entire internet wants to fuck this man!”

“Okay?!” Shane Hollander said, throwing his arms out. “I don’t know what to tell you!”

“Jesus Christ, okay.” Hayden shuffled behind the camera. “Ilya Rozanov.”

A flush bloomed across Shane Hollander’s freckled face, intensifying so fast it looked like his face was on fire. 

“Uhm.” He pressed his lips together before his shoulders dropped in resignation. “Smash.”

The video cut off to J.J.’s loud groan and Hayden laughing behind the camera. 

Ilya’s phone clattered to the floor and he stared up into his living room ceiling, his heart racing. What the fuck? A slow smile spread across his face as he picked it back up again.

sveta

 

Ilya

i want to eat him

 

 

@TroyBarrett17✔️

………. I don't know whether I should be offended or relieved

@dkshollzy

omg hollander never change

@brinnastar

I laughed so hard I don’t know what to do with myself. This is CRAZY

@HarrisDrover

You know what? Go off, king!

@TroyBarrett17✔️ wtf

@HarrisDrover I respect a man with strong opinions

@shanesgflou

I was about to be like Shane is so based for the smash, but I also can’t defend annyyy of that other stuff

@troyver4ever

the way his entire body blue screened when hayden showed him ilya rozanov ijbol

@JohnnyPT

Who passes on Pedro Pascal???? I’d smash and I’m a straight man!

@leylavee

i need like 50 more of these i'm obsessed 

@voyageurvoyagie I can’t make sense of his taste, like what is it?

@leylavee something tells me his taste is just Ilya Rozanov at this point, idk

@RoseLandry✔️

Shane when I came out for you this is NOT what I expected

@leylavee when you what???

“You know, Pedro is very hurt.”

“Oh, shut up.” Shane said, throwing his head back against the back of the couch. 

Rose sat curled up at the other end, swirling wine around in her wineglass, her hand cupped around it. She had one leg tucked up under herself and the other bouncing lightly, tapping against the floor.

"You promised me we wouldn't talk about this."

"You know better than that, Shane Hollander. What, you don't know me at all?"

"Maybe I don't. Betrayed by everyone in my life."

Rose laughed, leaning her chin against her hand. "But poor Pedro. He looked at me with his big puppy-dog eyes and said: why doesn't Shane like me?"

"He fucking didn't." Shane groaned. "He hasn't even seen it."

Picking a piece of apple from their fruit platter, Rose gave gave him a look and bit into it. "With the amount of views on it, I wouldn't be surprised if he did."

"Don't even put the thought out there. I actually can't handle that, Rose. I swear. It was only supposed to be a stupid joke thing."

"You're just too funny for your own good, Shane."

"That's definitely the first time I've heard that."

"It was very funny."

Shane picked at the denim covering his bent knee. "I don't actually even understand why it's that funny."

He'd been thinking about it over the past few days. The video had done numbers, and everyone Hayden showed it to laughed. People in the comments were talking about how they were screaming. Jackie had sent a video of herself reacting to it and that video could probably also go viral if she posted it online. But Shane didn't completely know why it was such a funny video. He had, mortifyingly, been completely sincere in his answers, and he didn't fully know why his opinions were so amusing to everyone else.

Rose's voice was gentle when she answered, prompting him to look up. "It's only that… these people are all very attractive. Many people would, maybe, say smash to all or even most."

Shane made a face. So, he just never knew how to be normal, then.

"But everyone obviously has their own tastes. I personally would've passed on Troy, he's not my type." Rose tipped her head from side to side as she considered it. "Probably. I think it's just funny to see you say pass to everyone, for these people that are sort of famous online for being hot, and for J.J. and Hayden to get increasingly frustrated."

"So you would say smash for all of those people except Troy?" Shane asked, uncertain.

"Probably? Funnily enough, I might pass on Ilya Rozanov. Models aren't my thing." She lifted her glass in a one-sided toast. "Anymore."

"I just think that—" He paused, rubbing his hands back and forth over his thighs. "I think I don't feel attracted to a lot of people. I can objectively look at someone and know they're attractive, but it just doesn't feel like anything special for me. I don't look at them and want them, if that makes sense."

"It does," she assured him. "And I don't feel like deeply horny for most of the people they mentioned, either, but I know that I would feel it, if we were in that situation. But you probably just work differently, Shane."

Story of his entire life. If there was ever an area of existence where he didn't work differently he'd love to find it.

"This actually explains a lot for me," Rose said and she smiled softly at him.

"Explain what?"

"After we had our whole oops I'm your gay boyfriend ordeal, I kinda thought you'd go out and have a whole slut era. You know, like, go out, pick up people. Get with some of the people Miles and I introduced you to."

The thought had crossed Shane's mind for about half a second, back then, but immediately the idea of picking up strange men in bars had been, frankly, overwhelming. And no one Rose introduced him to made him comfortable enough to really get into the idea. There was only a couple of times where he'd felt a pull strong enough to override the anxieties, leading to some quick encounters at hotels while on road trips. He'd never gone past exchanging blowjobs since coming out, but he'd just never felt the moment was right for that.

"I guess I'm not a slut era kind of person?" he said, hating how unsure his voice sounded. "I mean, there's been a couple, but…"

Rose was quick to jump in. "And you don't have to be! You absolutely don't. It's so extremely okay if you don't want to have a lot of sex with a lot of different people, just as okay as it would be if you did want that. And it's 100% valid to not feel attracted to a lot of people."

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he reached for his ginger ale, taking a calming swig from it. It wasn't even that he didn't want a lot of sex, he just knew that he needed a level of safety and comfortability before he got there.

"But Ilya Rozanov." Rose waggled her eyebrows.

Shane groaned, feeling his cheeks flush hot again. He'd heard of him before, mentioned in passing, and he'd probably seen a photo or two before. But the moment Hayden pulled his photo up, his brain had lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Of course Ilya Rozanov was attractive. He was a model. His hair looked perfect and his facial structure was insane. But there was something else about him that made Shane's insides feel molten.

"Fuck, I dont know!" he said, waving his hand in frustration. "He just looks like—"

—he could pin me down and fuck me stupid.

Shane made a strangled noise and Rose laughed, her hair slipping over her shoulder as she threw her head back. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, body loose and relaxed.

"It's okay that he makes you horny, babes. Just let it happen."

"At least I didn't pass on everyone in that fucking video."

"See! That's the spirit." She jumped when the phone she had balanced on her thigh started buzzing. "Oh, shit, it's Miles, I'll be right back!" She got up and placed her wineglass on the coaster and Shane felt a surge of warmth at that. "Hi, sweetie, what's up?"

Shane watched her go and reached over for his own phone, immediately noticing he had a missed call from his mom. It was only one, so it couldn't be that important. If it was urgent, she'd call at least a couple more times. His Instagram was still kind of blowing up from the video and Hayden had taken to sending him reels that he found hilarious, leaving Shane to just react with a laughing emoji without even watching them.

message request (1)

Shane threw his phone across the couch and bunched himself up in the corner like it was about to kill him. It did feel a bit like he was about to die. His heart was in his throat and his fingers were tingling. Surely, he had read that wrong? He'd definitely read that wrong.

"Why are you looking at your phone like it's a bomb?" Rose asked, coming up to stand next to him.

"I think I'm hallucinating."

Rose stepped up and grabbed his phone before sitting back down. "I'm an actor and you're somehow the most dramatic person I know."

His phone's screen had gone dark, but it hadn't fully locked down, and when Rose tapped the screen, the message came back up. Her face split in a feral grin and she let out a loud whoop, laughing as she pumped her fist in the air.

"Oh my god, Shane!"

"I'm not answering."

"The fuck you're not! Oh my god, don't start on me."

"What would I even say?"

And what would I do if he actually keeps answering? And wants to meet up? And wants to—

"Did it hurt?"

"What?"

"When you fell from heaven."

"I hate you."

Rose kicked at his shin and laughed. "You'll be fine! Just say hi back and see where it goes."

"I don't know how to flirt, though, Rose, I'm useless!"

"Well, you sort of already did?"

"No, I didn't!"

"You said smash."

Shane snorted. "That's not flirting, that's me being honest."

"Yeah, so keep doing that, then. Just talk to him and say whatever feels honest to you."

Hugging his arms around his stomach, Shane looked away and worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

"My understanding of flirting, though, is that it's not about being honest? There's some game there, some… playing around that I'm not good at."

"Yeah, there's a skill to it, you're right about that. But you don't have to do that. Just be yourself and see where it goes." Rose handed his phone back over. "At worst, it just fizzles out and goes nowhere."

Shane couldn't help but think maybe the worst would be actually getting what he wanted. His fingers flexed around his phone. There was the soft pressure of Rose's hand around his ankle and he looked up to see her leaning in.

"Just take a shot, Shane. Live a little." She gave him a radiant smile. "At the very least you'll have something good for never have I evers and a fun truth for two truths and a lie."

He opened his phone and typed out Hi.

Shane jumped a mile when Hayden leaned over into his space and said, "what are you doing?"

Hayden had been fast asleep in the plane seat next to him. Of course, he chose the worst possible moment to rise from the grave and come up behind Shane like a ghost. Shane slammed his phone against his chest, whipping around to look at Hayden.

"You scared the shit out of me!"

An unnerving grin was plastered across Hayden's face. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing, buddy."

"I was just doing research."

"Ah," Hayden said, far too smug. "Research for the next time you're… waxing your carrot?"

Shane looked at him, blinking. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Jerking off, Shane. I'm trying to be less vulgar and, frankly, I think you're not appreciating my efforts enough."

"Oh, fuck off."

Of course Hayden had caught him looking through Ilya Rozanov's newest photoshoot. It wasn't that Shane actually followed him on instagram, because he didn't exactly want people to run to twitter about it, but he had visited his profile a handful of times since they'd had their little back and forth. And now, two weeks later, Ilya Rozanov had posted photos from a magazine photoshoot.

The photos were insane. Shane wanted to print them out and hang them on every wall in his bedroom. He wanted to frame them and put them all on his nightstand. He wanted to make a collage to set as his phone background. There was one in particular where Ilya Rozanov was shirtless and jeans hung low on his hips, the fly undone. It was taken from a low angle, close enough that Shane felt like Rozanov was looking down at him. Fuck.

"Doing okay there?"

"Yes, Hayd," Shane snapped. "Fine, I was looking at the hot guy's new photoshoot. Anything else you want?"

"Nope! Glad you're enjoying that."

Shane slumped into the seat, fighting back the urge to sulk like a child over Hayden's needling. Instead, he opened the photos back up, something fluttering low in his stomach at a close up of Rozanov looking over his shoulder. The light hit his cheekbones in a way that made him look sharp and ethereal all at once and the curve of his lips was just sinful.

And Shane had that in his Instagram DMs. Ilya Rozanov was there. He'd said hi first. He'd flirted with Shane, or at least Shane thought so, looking back on it. He'd called Shane cute. Was he really gonna throw this away? Was he really wasting the chance to be kissed by that mouth, even if the thought was as scary as it was exhilarating?

The plane wifi wasn't the best, but he managed to log on and clicked his way back to the short conversation. you are very cute shane hollander looked back at him. They'd said nothing since then. Shane hadn't known how to answer, and maybe Rozanov had given up on getting the response he wanted. But Shane could be brave. He could.

He typed out half a sentence and erased it before trying another one. Cycling through mundane hellos and then more unhinged thoughts about the photos, he struggled to figure out what to say. He thought back to the conversation with Rose. Be honest, right?

That photoshoot is fucking hot. What do you even do to look like that? It could be a crime, maybe.

He sent it and pocketed his phone, not wanting to look at it, and spent the rest of the flight napping on and off.

Later, when he'd gotten to his hotel room and showered and tucked himself into bed, he brought the photos back up. There was one where Rozanov was sitting down, and leaning back onto his elbows, his legs spread. His shirt's collar was open so far down his entire chest was on display and Shane wanted to bury his face in it. Shane wanted to sit on his lap, wanted to bounce on it and greedily stare at that gorgeous man undernath him.

Shane gave in and closed his fist around his cock, a soft groan spilling out in relief. Maybe it was weird to jerk off to pictures of a real person, someone he'd talked to, but the fantasies were driving him out of his mind. The thought that this could, maybe, in some world actually happen was heightening every rush of need. Holding his palm against his dick, he ground up into it, muffling his moans with his other fist. He came thinking of Rozanov's body pressing him into the mattress.

"We are staying in tonight," Sveta repeated as if she'd just heard the most ludicrous thing.

Ilya was spread out on the couch, taking up almost half of it all on his own. Looking up at Sveta where she stood in a classy, black dress and her hair done up, he shrugged.

"I don't want to go out."

Huffing, she fell back onto the couch. Her lower lip stuck out into a pout and she brought her phone out of her purse, her long nails tapping at the screen. "Well, then, Victor is coming over."

"St-Simon? Why the fuck?"

"I like him and I don't care about your weird resentment."

Ilya rolled his eyes. "Tell him to bring pizza, then."

He supposed he owed her that, since he was keeping her out of the clubs. Even though Victor St-Simon was fucking annoying, and he had no idea why Svetlana liked him at all. They'd come into the modeling scene at about the same time, and St-Simon had that puppy dog look about him that turned everyone away from the fact that he'd step over his own grandma for a spread in Vogue.

"You and St-Simon can go clubbing," Ilya said. "I don't have to be attached to your hip."

She looked up from her phone. "We can go out after, if he wants. I'll hang here for a bit."

When St-Simon actually showed up with a pizza, blasting the doorbell over and over until Svetlana let him in, Ilya could barely believe he'd actually bothered to come. It wasn't like he had a lot of fond feelings left over for Ilya either, but maybe he was trying to get into Svetlana's good graces for something.

"Why aren't we going out?" St-Simon asked when he dropped the pizza on the table. "Eva told me about that new club in Williamsburg, she was it was fucking amazing."

"I am watching hockey," Ilya said and turned on the TV.

Svetlana snorted and threw her head back. "There's no fucking way! I fucking can't with you."

It was impeccable timing, because the camera was following Hollander, zooming in on his face as he was talking to a teammate. His cheeks were rosy and his expression intense.

"What the fuck?" St-Simon said, not even sitting down. He just hovered. "We're skipping the club for hockey?

Ilya kept his eyes on the TV screen. "Never asked you to skip club for hockey. Also did not invite you here at all."

"You're such a bag of dicks, Rozanov."

Fuck, he was so annoying. Ilya looked over a Svetlana, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"Come on, Victor," she said. "We're in his apartment, you can probably dial it down a bit. And we'll go out later."

"I'm texting Eva," St-Simon said, dropping down to the edge of the couch.

"Oh no," Ilya deadpanned and tuned back into the game just in time for the puck drop.

Ilya didn't watch a lot of hockey. His friend Marly played for the Bears, but he'd never felt the need to watch him play all that much. A time or two, he'd gone to a game in person with Sveta who was the reason he knew Marly in the first place, but he was no expert. You didn't need to be an expert to see that Shane Hollander was fucking good.

The Voyageurs had played a string of games on the West Coast and Ilya watched the last two. Hollander had been playing out of his mind in both of them, shocking even the commentators, apparently. It was unfairly hot, the way his body moved on the ice, the fluidity of his movement, the confidence in his shots.

"Have you talked to him?" Svetlana asked suddenly, her face bright with excitement. "You have, havent you!"

Ilya switched to Russian. "I'm not telling you shit with him here."

"So that's a yes then." She grinned and kicked her feet. "What's he like?"

"Has anyone told you that's really rude?"

Would his career be over if he punched St-Simon until his stupid face was unrecognizable? Probably. Ilya's hand curled into a fist and he had to force himself to relax. For something to do, he reached over to grab a slice of pizza.

Svetlana sighed and kicked St-Simon's calf. "Vic, you're really not doing yourself any favors here right now."

"Oh, fuck this. Eva's at The Box. I'm going."

"Sveta, just go with him."

"Okay, but you owe me details later." She snatched her bag from the couch and pointed a finger at him. "All the details."

He puffed his cheeks out in relief when the front door fell shut and his apartment was empty again. Turning up the volume, he picked up another slice and watched entranced as Hollander stole the puck from another player in a maneuver so quick Ilya could barely follow it. He held his phone loosely in his hand, tipping it upside down and back again.

Marly was a good guy. He liked Marly. It had never been awkward that they both sometimes slept with Svetlana, and Ilya appreciated that. No weird jealousy and no awkward threesome-attempts.

marly

 

Ilya

do you know shane hollander?

 

marly

I mean everyone knows Hollander

I don't know him like personally tho

Ilya

what is he like?

marly

He's a good guy

Always nice off the ice

Kinda closed off tho and people on his team says he never comes out with them and is like mega boring

S on my team swears he's still a virgin

 

Ilya snorted. Of course people were stupid enough to think people didn't have a sex life behind closed doors just because they didn't flaunt it. Ilya knew he'd had a tendency to be showy about it, but plenty of people kept all that strictly to themselves.

marly

 

Ilya

thanks

 

marly

yw. Gonna tell my why?

 

Ilya

no

 

marly

I'll come collect next time I'm in NYC

 

 

The thing was, Ilya kind of wanted to know everything about Hollander. He did seem like he was nice, just like Marly said, but Ilya was willing to bet there was way more than that under the surface.

He let out an involuntary yelp when Hollander scored, his teammates piling him. The camera zoomed in on his face as it broke into a wide smile, his eyes sparkling. He was unbelievably beautiful. And hot. So hot. And Ilya just felt like there was something there, that Shane would open up in the dark corner of a restaurant or bloom under Ilya's touch in bed.

Shane Hollander. The one who was terrible at flirting over text and was adorably earnest, but who'd still reached out first when their conversation fizzled out.

Ilya wanted to know him.

He typed his phone number into their Instagram DMs and pressed send.

Maybe: Shane Hollander

 

Maybe: Shane Hollander

Hello, this is Shane

Hollander

 

Ilya

this is very formal

should i introduce myself

 

Maybe: Shane Hollander

How else were you going to know I'm the one messaging you?

I think this is common courtesy

 

Ilya

i did not give my number to anyone else recently so

pretty easy

 

Maybe: Shane Hollander

Suddenly I feel a lot of pressure

Ilya

no no pressure

i just want to talk to you

Maybe: Shane Hollander

😊

Ilya

you played very good hockey today

Maybe: Shane Hollander

You watch hockey?

Ilya

now i do

will you score one of those tricks for me?

Maybe: Shane Hollander

What? I guess I could try to do tricks

Oh you mean a hat trick

Ilya

yes that one

Maybe: Shane Hollander

He thinks he can just order a hat trick

Ilya

you should do nice things for me😉

Maybe: Shane Hollander

A hat trick is pretty difficult

Ilya

i think you can do it

for me

Maybe: Shane Hollander

Okay, my next one is for you

Ilya

🤩

Maybe: Shane Hollander

And what do I get?

Ilya

my wonderful company in your text messages

Maybe: Shane Hollander

This seems like a bad deal for me

I think I could get more out of this

Ilya

how about a private photoshoot

Maybe: Shane Hollander

fuck okay

 

It took four games, but Hollander did score a hat trick. Ilya watched the post-game interview on his phone after a runway fitting, tucked into a chair in the corner of a dressing room. On the screen, Hollander pushed his hair away of his forehead, clearly annoyed by the way it was sticking to his skin. He looked confident and sure as he talked through the game, his answers professional and insightful. There was no playfulness in it, no cockiness or boasting about his own performance. The complete opposite of what Ilya would've been.

Then, when one interviewer asked about the hat trick, his demeanor changed and it made Ilya's pulse race. There was a sudden glint in his eyes and his expression softened.

"Well," Hollander said, reaching back to rub at the back of his neck. "I promised someone a hat trick, so I had to deliver."

His eyes flicked to the camera for a moment, looking bashful, and his cheeks went red.

Holy fuck. Ilya threw his head back and groaned. He wanted to bite into those cheeks. There had never been a person more adorable than Shane Hollander.

"Who did you promise a hat trick?" The interviewer asked.

Hollander shrugged, giving a small smile. "They know who they are."

"Well, they have to be happy with this showing!"

Ilya switched over to their messages.

shane hollander

 

Ilya

very impressive

i accept my gift

 

shane hollander

Wow the gratitude

And when do I get my gift?

 

Ilya

patience shane hollander

 

shane hollander

 

Ilya watched Shane type, the little bubble bouncing, going away, then bouncing again. For minutes, he watched it, until he swore, realizing his uber was outside and had been for a while. He pocketed his phone and grabbed his things, running down the stairs and through the maze of hallways until he finally made it outside.

It had started to rain while he was at the fitting, the day on the edge of turning into evening. He spotted what he hoped was his uber and jogged over, jumping into the back.

"Dude, I was about to leave, you're so late, man."

"The meeting went too long," Ilya said, and sparing his uber-rating a thought, he added, "sorry."

He'd put in the address for the restaurant Sveta was at, planning to follow her to the club after, but he sort of wanted to just go home. The uber driver might murder him if he switched up now, though, based on his expression, so he just let him drive. He gave the driver a tip that was comically large in hopes of salvaging his rating and jumped out, pulling out his phone to check it.

A message from Shane stopped him on the middle of the sidewalk.

shane hollander

 

shane hollander

I'm playing a game in New York next week. On Thursday, but we get in on Wednesday so I have some free time.

 

 

Ilya grinned, tipping his head back, the rain wetting his face.

Hollander had left the message there, clearly too nervous to ask anything outright. It made Ilya's cheeks hurt. It was fucking cute. And refreshing as hell. He didn't know if Shane wanted to just hook up, or hang out, but if texting Shane had taught him anything, it was that he spooked easily. Inviting him home didn't seem like the play, and for once Ilya kind of wanted to go on a date.

Sveta was going to assume he'd been replaced by a clone.

shane hollander

 

Ilya

let me take you to dinner!

i'll take you to one of my favorites

shane hollander

oh

To dinner.

Thank you.

I mean, not thank you, but yes, please.

Thank you.

 

 

Ilya burst out laughing as he watched Shane delete the last 'thank you' in real time. Pulling open the door to the restaurant, he shook the water out of his hair and a soft warmth trickled slowly through his chest, his heart skipping. He screenshotted the messages, a small smile tucked away carefully.

"Why do you look like a drowned rat?" Sveta asked, leaning away from him when he slipped into the chair closest to her. Her friends, Leyla and Ashari, looked at him with raised eyebrows. They were new, these two. He'd gone clubbing with them before, knew he'd danced with one of them, but he didn't know much about them.

"It started raining."

"Okay, and you ran here from the fitting?"

Ilya reached over and nicked a piece of garlic bread from the table. "Did you order?"

"Yes, you spoiled brat, I ordered for you." Sveta leaned back, crossing her arms over her stomach. "So you're welcome to tell me why you can't stop smiling."

Ilya shrugged. "Dinner with beautiful ladies, my agent always calling."

"He's so full of shit," Leyla said and laughed, even as Ashari looked flustered from the compliment. Sveta rolled her eyes.

He spent the night dancing, drinking just enough to feel the buzz of it. The time passed in a blur of laughter, checking his phone at the bar and ignoring Sveta's scrutinizing gaze whenever he turned someone down.

Shane hadn't told anyone about the fact that he had a date in New York, which hit him like an inconvenient truck when he went to pack. Usually, packing for away games was routine. He had a list on his phone that he also knew by heart. This list did not have an outfit for a date on it.

He stood in his walk-in closet, staring at his array of clothes with increasing anxiety. Through all the confusing feelings he'd felt since Ilya suggested dinner, he'd somehow avoided thinking about the fact that he was going on a date with a model who walked in fashion shows. If his Instagram was anything to go by, he also regularly wore designer clothes.

Was that something Ilya cared about?

If so, he probably shouldn't date a hockey player, to be fair.

Shane held a plain blue shirt against himself and peered into the mirror, turning slightly to the side as if that would help him in any way. Holy shit, he couldn't turn up to a date with Ilya Rozanov wearing jeans and a blue shirt.

He hadn't really wanted to tell anyone. It was just something he'd wanted to keep for himself, something private. There was a pressure in people knowing, and he wanted this to breathe on its own. But Shane needed help. Desperately.

When Rose picked up with a bright greeting, he immediately responded with a breathless, "help me!"

"What? What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I don't know what to wear."

There was a beat of silence.

"Last I checked you knew how to dress yourself. Well, barely."

"Okay," Shane said, trying not to sound as affronted as he felt. He closed his eyes and steeled himself. "I have a date."

"Shane Hollander!" Rose yelled, delighted. "I'm going to be very generous and put a pin in the fact that you've kept this from me. Who is he? Tell me, tell me."

"Can we not just look at what to wear? Please."

"Okay, no, absolutely not. First of all, who it is and where you're going is important context. And also, this is the Rose tax. You have to pay it."

Shane hung the plain, blue shirt back up and looked at his collection of clothes in dejection. He really did need her.

"We're going to dinner when I'm in New York. I'm not sure where, he said he'd take me to one of his favorites. I don't think it'll be overly fancy, so maybe somewhere in the middle?" He braced himself. "And it's Ilya. Rozanov. Ilya Rozanov."

"Shut the front door. Shane!"

"I know! What am I supposed to wear to go to dinner with a model?" Shane blindly pulled out another shirt and stared at it. Why did it have weird beige spots on it?

"Listen to me, babes."

He realized his breath had grown shallow so he forced his shoulders to drop and pulled in air slowly, feeling his stomach extend.

"Listen," Rose said again, voice firm. "Forget the clothes. Give me the address for your hotel and I'll send you two options. So just leave all your basketball shorts where they are."

Not even hesitating for a second, Shane left the closet, having never felt more relieved to not have to look at his own clothes anymore.

"Okay, forgotten. Erased."

"Perfect. And instead you're gonna enjoy it. You're gonna enjoy meeting a hot man for dinner. You're gonna think about how much you're looking forward to seeing him in person."

"I'm going to panic about being awkward and having nothing to talk about if it's not hockey."

"No, you're absolutely not doing that. He's a successful model. Do you think he'd bother going on a date with you if he didn't want to? He could be doing anything he wants."

"Oh, great, yeah, I'd forgotten to consider that for like half a second."

"Shane," Rose said, stern. "He's choosing to go out with you. His choice. If he didn't want to, he'd say no. Or he'd ghost you, more likely, based on my experience with models."

"No, you're right. Of course you're right."

Just as Shane ended the call and sat down on the edge of his bed, a text from Ilya popped up at the top of the screen. He smiled, his heart pitter-pattering as he clicked the notification.

Ilya Rozanov

 

Ilya Rozanov

what hotel will you be at?

i will come pick you up

excited to see you

 

 

Shane smiled and flopped back onto his bed, burying his blushing face into the covers, hiding from an empty room.

The evening was weirdly cold for March, and Shane was thankful for the suede jacket Rose's stylist had provided for him. The wind hit as soon as he stepped down the stairs from his hotel, making him tuck the jacket closer. A large group, laughing and chatting loudly, passed by, one girl tilting sideways and knocking into his shoulder, her blonde hair whipping into his face. He looked after them, hands buried into his pockets, when the group parted down the middle.

Ilya Rozanov walked through like the world bent around him. His head was turned down, allowing Shane a long moment to take him in. He was dressed in all black, from his sneakers, to his slacks and a leather jacket. It shouldn't look as unfairly hot as it did, and Shane was busy thinking about how effortless it all seemed when Rozanov's head tipped up.

Shane's stomach swooped. Their eyes met and Shane watched recognition bloom across his face. The way the look in his eyes changed into something a little teasing made heat creep up the back of Shane's neck, his pulse picking up, hands shaking in his pockets.

"Hollander," Ilya said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Shane had never heard his name said quite like this: the deep tenor of his voice, the accent changing the sounds just slightly.

"Hi," he said, a little breathless.

"We are going on the subway, is that okay with you?"

"Of course," Shane said, falling into step with Rozanov. "Why on earth wouldn't it be?"

"Well, maybe you are fancy hockey player." Rozanov shrugged. "Maybe subway is too dangerous for you."

Shane snorted. "You know I get slammed into the boards every game, right? I think I'll survive the subway."

As they reached the subway stop, Rozanov put a hand at the small of Shane's back, leading him around the corner and into the stairwell. The touch warmed even through Shane's jacket.

"I will protect you," Rozanov promised. "Will make sure no one breaks your legs. Do you have them insured? Millions of dollars?"

"I mean, the team does. They're important, you know."

"Mmm, yes." Rozanov's gaze traveled slowly along his body, the weight of it sending a bright flush into Shane's cheeks. "Extremely important."

"You can't tell me you don't have your face insured."

"Obviously. Though, if I broke my nose I could make it work."

He could definitely make it work. It was fucking insane how much aura radiated from Ilya Rozanov. He was stunning, yes, but it wasn't just that. It was his presence. There was some kind of intense charisma, some absurd sex appeal that Shane wasn't quite sure he knew what to do with. There was a slight chance he was in over his head.

Rozanov took him to a Korean barbecue in Midtown. The room was snug with walls of red brick and too many wooden booths in various sizes pressed together. It was dimly lit, exactly the way Shane preferred it, and it cast Rozanov's face in a warm glow, shadows enhancing the cut of his cheekbones. Shane was starting to realize he looked good in any lighting, maybe any situation it was possible to put him in.

"I don't really do this," Shane said once the waiter had left with their order.

Rozanov rose a single eyebrow. "What, eat?"

"No, this, like. Dating, I guess." Shane ducked his head and took a sip of water.

Rozanov hummed. "You just came out, yes?"

"Yeah, a few months ago."

"So that makes sense. It is hard to date when you are not out, and maybe it is also hard to change this even when everyone knows."

Shane felt his shoulders drop just a little, giving a small smile. "You're right. Honestly, it's not even that easy to hook up with anyone either. At least, you know, with hockey and everything."

Fuck, he was basically telling Ilya Rozanov he was embarrassingly inexperienced. Rose's gay friends kept calling him a baby gay, which was cute, in some ways, but it also made Shane feel like he was brand new and completely clueless.

Rozanov leaned in, arms crossed in front of him. "Well, I will tell you then. I also do not date much."

"So you don't bring people to your favorite restaurants?"

"No, not for this."

"Hook ups, though," Shane said, laughing. "I mean, you're a model."

Rozanov grinned, giving a one-shoulder shrug. "Yes, that is different story."

"What's it even like, being a model?"

"What do you mean? You are a model, Hollander. I looked up your Calvin Klein campaign."

"Stop," Shane said, lightly swatting at Rozanov's forearm. "That doesn't count. I just stand in front of the camera and let people move me around."

Rozanov looked amused, his eyes bright. "You are pretty like one, though, Shane Hollander."

The heat that rushed into his cheeks felt blazing. When Shane couldn't formulate a response, his brain coming to a complete halt, Rozanov switched to a more serious response.

"Modeling is more work than people think, maybe. Photoshoots are long, and they do not care if you are uncomfortable. There are a lot of meetings with casting, a lot of work to book all the different jobs, to prepare for jobs." He waved his hand. "But a lot of fun too. Designers giving you things to wear, a lot of parties, a lifestyle that a lot of people like."

"I've worn Reebok since I was 18."

Rozanov laughed, his head thrown back. "I'm very sorry. Rough deal."

"Hey, they're comfortable!"

"They fit with the rest of your clothes, then. All hoodies and sweatpants."

"I'm an athlete," Shane said, laughing, and then paused for a moment. "Does that bother you?"

"Does what bother me?"

"That I'm not, like, fashionable."

Rozanov gave him a long look. "No, Shane Hollander. It does not bother me."

Playing with the hem of his deep brown sweater, Shane looked down. "You can call me Shane. If you want."

"Okay," Rozanov said, voice oddly soft. "Then you call me Ilya."

Shane had been worried he wouldn't know what to talk about, but when the food arrived, the conversation kept flowing. They talked about Shane growing up in Ottawa, about his parents, about Ilya moving to New York and working at a bar, about Milan fashion week the month prior. The fear that he couldn't talk about anything but hockey evaporated over the sizzle of the barbecue.

"Do you ever get free time?" Shane asked after Ilya had told him about a particularly grueling day in Milan.

"Yes, sometimes. It's not always easy to say when, but end of August is often okay." Ilya sipped on his drink. "I am lucky now, too. I can say no to work, I can choose more, so if I decide I don't want, I can do that."

End of August prompted a series of daydreams that Shane was powerless to stop. Ilya lounging in the sun, his skin golden, sprawled out on a sunbed, no, an Adirondack chair, the kind Shane had at the cottage. Ilya ducking down into water, rising back up to the surface, droplets sliding down the chords of his neck, into the divot at the base of his throat. At the beach, no, the lake. Fuck, Ilya at his lake.

Shane cleared his throat, thanking the universe that Ilya couldn't read his unhinged mind. The mind where he was, apparently, already at a point where Ilya was spending the summer with him.

"And you? The summers, yes?"

"Yeah, after playoffs, or sometimes before, I guess, if we don't make it there. All the way until we start up again in September."

"But you will make playoffs?"

Shane pointed a finger at him. "You are not going to get me to say that out loud."

Ilya hid a snort into the back of his hand. "You are superstitious, Shane? What else are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"No, of course not, very brave boy." Ilya winked.

It was frankly embarrassing how much Ilya teasing him made his blood buzz. Frankly, it should piss him off, it should feel patronizing, if anything, but instead it just lit him up, made him feel inexplicably alive.

"We'll probably make it at this point. We're on a decent run, and we've got Ekström coming off of injury reserve. Unless we just jinxed it by talking about it."

"You have won, what, twice before?"

Shane smiled crookedly. "Yeah."

Leaning back, lounging lazily on his side of the booth, Ilya's knee pressed against Shane's. "It is very hot when people are good at what they do."

Shane's mouth went dry. He hummed, licking his bottom lip.

"And what if they're the best at what they do?"

A slow smile spread over Ilya's face, his gaze so intense that Shane had to fight not to turn away from it.

Ilya rested his head against his hand, elbow propped against the edge of the booth. "I can't decide if you know exactly how hot you are or if you have no idea."

The thing was that Shane couldn't remember if anyone had ever shown such obvious interest in him. Yes, he'd hooked up with people who surely found him attractive, and yes, people had told him that he was good-looking. But no one had looked at him quite like this, nor made his spine turn to liquid with the heat behind their words—let alone anyone as mind-meltingly attractive as Ilya Rozanov. It should really make him nervous. Before the date, he certainly had been, but something about Ilya made him curious, excited even.

"Well," Shane said, keeping his voice steady. "My mom has always called me her handsome boy."

A loud, endearingly unflattering laugh burst from Ilya and Shane's heart did a weird little jump. He couldn't stop a little satisfied smile, ducking his head slightly.

They fought over who got to pay the bill, Ilya essentially wrestling him out of the way to get it, before they stepped out into the night. The air was refreshing after the heat of the restaurant, the sky clear above them. Shane didn't want the night to end. He'd walk all over the city if only Ilya would walk next to him, their shoulders bumping now and again, but he let Ilya guide him back onto the subway anyway.

Maybe he'd get another chance, another date.

When the entrance to the hotel could be spotted down the road, Shane slowed his steps slightly and fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Uhm, I—I had a very nice time," he said, glancing sideways at Ilya. "Thank you."

They took another two steps in silence before Ilya stopped, his hand circling Shane's wrist. "No, thank you, Shane."

Their eyes locked and Shane swore he could fall into them if he let himself. A finger brushed over the sensitive skin of his wrist while he was gently pulled closer against the heat of Ilya's body. His gaze dropped to pink lips, slightly parted, and then up again, heart kicking in his chest. Ilya's eyes crinkled at the corners, his hand coming up to rest against Shane's cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing over the skin. Shane was desperate to close the gap between them, to give into the pull, but he held still, barely breathing.

"красивыйBeautiful," Ilya said, quiet, before he leaned into a kiss.

The world swayed and Shane clung to Ilya's biceps, fingers digging into leather. Ilya's lips were hot on his, the kiss languid and deep, as his hand pressed to the small of Shane's back, pushing him closer. It felt like a claim, dizzying in its intensity. Shane opened up into it, the tip of his tongue brushing against Ilya's in a brief taste of something too indecent for a New York sidewalk. Ilya pulled back and Shane kept his eyes closed for a second, his lips buzzing. When he opened them, Ilya was smiling.

Their hands linked as they wandered slowly towards the entrance to the hotel. Shane had never enjoyed holding hands. It just got too sweaty too fast, and it always felt awkward to find a comfortable grip for both people. This was different because in some weird way their hands just seemed to fit, like they were molded to hold the other. Which was a thought Shane could never tell anyone, ever, or he'd be bullied until the end of time.

"Goodnight, Shane," Ilya said as they stopped in front of the hotel, his hand squeezing Shane's.

"Goodnight, Ilya." He hesitated for a moment, but then he gave Ilya a barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Ilya pulled away, stepping backwards, their arms stretching between them until they had to let go.

"I will text." Ilya winked.

Ilya

 

Ilya

i have a gift for you

Shane

A gift?

Ilya

i promised you private photoshoot remember

 

 

The photos that came rushing in nearly sent Shane to an early grave. In one, Ilya was on his side in bed wearing only a pair of black boxers, his naked chest twisted towards the camera, face close to the lens. His lips were pouty, eyes piercing. In another, he was flat on his back, eyes now hooded and lazy, hand pushing the waistband of the boxers down on one side. Ilya's legs were spread wide and the bulge was obscene.

Shane moaned into his quiet hotel room, pressing the heel of his hand against his hardening cock. Fuck, this was insane. Truly, actually, insane. He swiped to a picture where Ilya was grabbing his cock through the boxers. Oh God, it looked huge. Shane bit into his bottom lip until it hurt, picturing Ilya bracketing his whole body, pressing him into the mattress.

Delirious with want, he switched to his own camera with shaking fingers, taking a rushed photo of himself with his hand down his boxers, only the bottom half of his face visible. He sent it before he could look at it too hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

Ilya

 

Ilya

fuuuck shane

fuck i have important thing to say because i need you to know this

i only top ok?

 

Shane

Thank god because I need you to fuck me so hard

 

Ilya

i will зайчикbunny

i will fuck you until you cry so pretty for me

whining crying

screaming for me

Shane

I lya

 

 

shane💖

 

Ilya

i am watching this show and i think you will love it

 

shane💖

What show is it? Maybe I can find some time to check it out

 

Ilya

it is called marriage or mortgage

they have to decide if they want to spend their money on a house or a wedding

 

shane💖

…

Is this a joke?

You're joking

 

Ilya

no you would LOVE this

this couple lives with his mother and have enough for down payment on a house  

shane💖

Okay, so what's stopping them?

Ilya

they could have a popcorn machine at the wedding shane

customized gift baskets with soap for their 150 guests  

a food truck

shane💖

Who would choose that over a house???

Ilya

i have never seen you use three question marks wow

oh they chose the wedding

shane💖

Ilya I swear I'm having a heart attack

Tell me you've made this show up

Ilya

i have not 😊

shane💖

This should be illegal

They should be forced to buy a house

Ilya

😂 shane hollander does not like to party

noted

shane💖

You can have a party in your house! That you own! It's an investment!

Ilya

you are so cute i want to eat you

 

shane💖

shane💖

JJ tried to set me up with this guy he met at the gym but his name is literally the same name as my dad

And he somehow didn't get how that'd be weird

Ilya

he is setting you up

 

shane💖

He started like the day after I came out. He's relentless

Ilya

are you going?

shane💖

I just said he has the same name as my dad! Of course I'm not going.  

Ilya

but you would if he had a different name

shane💖

I'm not sure what the right answer is here

Ilya

there is no right answer

nevermind

forget pls

shane💖

To be really honest I wasn't going to anyway

I wasn't lying when I said I never really date or even hook up. It's just kinda embarrassing to admit that, I guess.

Ilya

no don't be embarrassed

i didn't mean to be annoying

 

shane💖

You're not annoying, I promise

Ilya

its ok that you don't have all the experience

more than ok

and i did not want to keep you from going out

shane💖

Ilya I really wasn't going

Also we should both be really glad your name isn't David

Ilya

i would have changed it

shane💖

😂 what would you change it to?

Ilya

anything you wanted

shane💖

What about Waldo?

Or Ziggy

Ilya

i would make it work

anything for you

 

sveta

 

sveta

Pass me a napkin

Ilya

why the fuck are you texting me this

sveta

You haven't looked at me in 10 minutes you fuck

This is the only way to get your attention these days

loverboy

Ilya

🖕

 

shane💖

Ilya

congrats!

shane💖

Thank you! I was pretty sure we'd make it, but it's a relief to know for sure

Ilya

such a good boy

shane💖

Oh my god

Ilya

perfect

talented

✨stunning✨

shane💖

Fuck off

Ilya

i watched tiktoks of you looking all hot and sweaty

shane💖

I'm going to the playoffs and that's what you focus on

Ilya

why not both?

i wanted to send you a gift but you will not tell me your address

shane💖

Okay, you've never even asked?

The bad things is I'll be very busy in a couple of weeks. Playoffs are just a lot.

Ilya

can i see you before then?

i will go to montreal

shane💖

You can do that?

Ilya

i have a couple of things but they can be moved

if you have a night that you can meet

shane💖

You would fly in for just a night?

Ilya

shane

i am rich

shane💖

Right

Ilya

what

you forget you are rich?

shane💖

Is it bad if I say sometimes?

Ilya

😂

yes

pls don't tell anyone else this

they will cancel you

shane💖

What about Thursday next week?

Ilya

i will be there

should i plan something?

 

shane💖

No, I'll take you somewhere. You'd think I'd know this city after living here for like half a decade

Ilya

sounds promising

i will like whatever you choose

don't worry

shane💖

I'm really glad you're coming

Ilya

i can't wait to see you shane

 

Ilya found Shane while he was parking a hideous Jeep, which was endearing and upsetting in equal measure. It was such a waste for such an absurdly hot man to drive such a sexless car. When was Shane's birthday? Ilya would have to start looking, or at least have Sveta start looking, for something that was worthy of him. He didn't think Shane would be a Porsche guy, but maybe a Lexus, at least.

"Wow, rental car company really scammed you," llya said over Shane's shoulder, laughing as he whipped around in surprise.

"What?" He asked, face adorably scrunched in confusion. "This is my car."

"Oh, I thought this was terrible rental car while you had your real car fixed."

"What's wrong with my car?" Shane asked. "It's good in the snow."

Fuck, he was cute. Ilya smirked and moved closer, thoughts flashing back to the kiss outside a hotel in New York. He was tempted to do it again, wanted it so much it burned a little under his skin, but he still wasn't completely sure how much he could push Shane. Instead, he went in for a hug, wrapping his arms around Shane's shoulders. Shane melted into it, hands circling Ilya's waist, his head tucking into Ilya's neck like it belonged there. Closing his eyes, Ilya breathed in deep and inhaled the muted smell of Shane's cologne.

"Where are we going?" Ilya asked as he pulled away, hand coming to rest at the back of Shane's neck, squeezing briefly.

"There's an arcade bar a couple of streets down."

"Oh, like games?"

"Yeah, arcade games and video games you can play."

"Do they have Mario Kart?" Ilya asked and followed Shane down the street, not able to hide is excitement.

"Yeah, it looked like it!"

"Oh, I will kick your ass! I am the Mario Kart champion."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone. I always win."

Shane bumped into his shoulder. "Well, not today."

The bar had arcade games lining the walls and at the front were two big screens, one of which was actually for Mario Kart. The lighting was dim, and the room wasn't large, but there were probably at least 20 games. They'd paid an entrance fee at the door so everything was free to play, and Ilya rushed straight over to the closest machine. It was a version of Space Invaders which Ilya had a vague memory of playing ages ago.

He turned to Shane, beaming. "This was a good idea."

Shane looked pleased. "I have to admit it wasn't completely my idea. I had Jackie help me brainstorm."

"Who is Jackie again?"

"My best friend, Hayden, is on the Voyageurs too. Jackie is his wife. I spend a lot of time with them and their kids."

"Ah, you are Uncle Shane."

"Yeah." Shane smiled. "I like that. Being Uncle Shane."

"I am too," Ilya said, starting up another game, grateful not to look Shane in the eye anymore. "An uncle. My niece, Sofia, she is back in Russia."

"How old is she?"

"She is 7 now. I have not seen her much lately, it is complicated with my brother Andrei." Ilya cursed as he slammed the button down, just a bit too slow. "This game is broken."

Shane laughed. "Sure, the game is broken."

"You try then!"

Ilya leaned against the machine, knowing he was being a distraction, but that only worked until Shane locked in completely. He was hilariously competitive, which Ilya should've seen coming, maybe, but he was sure not every athlete would smash a button on arcade games so hard the bones in their hand creaked. There was a vein in Shane's neck that popped out every time he got really into it.

"The game is broken," Shane announced, turning his back on it.

"See, what did I tell you?" Ilya hooked his arm around Shane's waist. "Let's find working game."

They found a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle co-op game that they got weirdly good at, except Shane kept yelling at him that he was too slow, only for Ilya to go slower on purpose just to watch his vein pop.

"Do you like kids?" Shane suddenly asked, eyes never leaving the game. The screen lit up his face in multicolored lights.

"I love kids," Ilya said softly.

Shane glanced at him. "Do you want them?"

"I think so, yes." He swore quietly as the sword missed an enemy. "I would like to not be my father, to be different."

Ilya hadn't ever said those words out loud, to anyone. He'd barely said them to himself. But there was something about Shane, and there was something about talking while they were both invested in the game.

"Do you want them?" he asked and then broke into a quick cheer as they ran through a group of enemies.

"Yeah," Shane said. "More than one, I think. I don't have any siblings and I always wanted one."

There was something heartbreaking about the weird mirror in their situation. Shane, always wanting the closeness of a sibling he never had, and Ilya, having one, but craving the relationship he was supposed to have, that siblings were supposed to be. He wanted to give that to his own kids. A family that supported each other, that were there. He didn't have any illusions that every family was perfect, that siblings would always get along, but it could be better than what he had.

"The time has finally come," Ilya said, planting both hands on Shane's shoulders, shaking him slightly.

"You're finally going to kill me?" Shane joked, allowing Ilya to jostle him.

"Yes." Ilya pushed him forwards. "In Mario Kart. I will murder you."

They settled in the seats in front of the big screen up front. There was another group at the screen next to them, a few of them sending Shane several long looks, but so far they hadn't made any move to talk to him.

"Tell me you don't play as Mario." Ilya looked over at Shane, scandalized.

"He's the titular character of the game!" Shane waved the controller at the screen. "How can that be wrong?"

"Is boring! The most obvious choice."

"Oh, what, you think Toad is a more inspired choice? Everyone plays Toad."

Ilya sniffed and redirected, refusing to admit that, yes, he did play Toad. Which was obviously the best character, and what did Shane even know about it?

"I will play Princess Peach, actually. "

"Princess Peach," Shane said flatly.

"Yes, anything wrong with that, Hollander? Are you not secure in your masculinity?"

"Fuck off."

Ilya leaned in, squeezed Shane's knee and said brightly, "I won't."

It turned out that he was better than Shane, but not so much that it took the fun out of it. In fact, Shane got hilariously angry whenever Ilya hit him with a red shell or bumped him off the track, his face flushed in a way that made him look so alive and bright and a little furious. His competitiveness made Ilya want to beat him even more, to the point where he reached over and tickled him when he was in 1st on the third lap of the Bowser's Castle map. Shane squeaked, annoyed, and hit him repeatedly in the shoulder.

"You're such a fucking cheater, oh my god." Shane groaned. "There are rules!"

"Where are these rules? Did not say anywhere that I can't poke you in the ribs."

"You are infuriating."

They kept bickering until Shane got his revenge by blasting Ilya with a blue shell right before the finish line. He yelled in indignation, throwing both arms up, complaining even as Shane's delighted laughter tucked in under his ribs and made his chest warm.

Leaving Mario Kart behind, they bought a snack plate because Ilya was getting hungry and craved onion rings. They brought it with them and walked around watching other people play for a bit and then ended up at the Pac Man machine, which quickly turned hilarious since they were both absolutely terrible at it.

The most surprising thing of all was how quickly the time passed. Before he knew it, they'd been there for almost three hours, which honestly felt like barely an hour. He liked being with Shane, was the thing. Shane was funny and interesting, and he enjoyed talking to him. He was fun to tease, too. He was also kind and a little boring, but surprisingly, Ilya found he liked that too. Maybe his life had always lacked more boredom, more stability.

He walked Shane back to his car. so close that the back of their hands brushed. The closer they got, the less he wanted it to end. He almost felt silly with how energized he felt, how much he wanted to just stay in this feeling and this moment. Sveta would laugh at him if she knew just how mushy and stupid he was being. It was very not-Ilya-like, all of this dating and wanting to hold onto Shane's hand and not let go.

When they reached Shane's car, Ilya couldn't help himself. He slowly pushed Shane back against the door and boxed him in, pressing their bodies together, and kissed him deeply. His lips were plush and soft and he gasped against Ilya's lips, body going pliant. And, fuck, the way Shane reacted to him, the way he went all boneless and melty—it made Ilya's blood rush. He cupped Shane's jaw, holding him firmly as he pulled away with one last press of his lips.

Shane looked at him, brown eyes wide and dazed.

"Will you come home with me?"

Ilya smiled, running his hands over the dip of Shane's waist. "Yes." He leaned in for a brief kiss, trying to hide how much he really wanted it.

"I guess you'll have to go into my terrible car," Shane said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"An insult to me personally."

"Yes, when I bought this car three years ago I definitely thought of what Ilya Rozanov would hate the most."

Ilya jumped into the passenger seat. "Please let me buy you a new one. For your birthday."

"Absolutely not." Shane looked at him sideways. "I just won't tell you my birthday."

"Shane, your birthday is on Wikipedia."

"I'll give it away."

Ilya held a hand over his heart. "You wouldn't."

"I'd give it to my mom."

Tipping his head back and forth, Ilya considered that for a moment. "Maybe I will allow it. She would look fabulous in a Porsche probably."

It turned out that Shane's apartment building was 20 minutes down the street in Westmount and Ilya spent five minutes ribbing him for being too good for public transport. When Shane sniffed and argued back that "I get recognized!" Ilya spent another few minutes teasing him for that too. It really was the most fun drive Ilya had ever been on. He wasn't going to claim the same on behalf of Shane, but he did see Shane's mouth lift at the corner even as he tried to suppress it.

"Oh, Mr Real Estate," Ilya said as they stepped into Shane's penthouse apartment.

It was open and spacious with floor to ceiling windows providing a view of Montreal, lights lighting up the evening. Ilya walked over to it, hands in his pocket as he looked out. While he had a lot of money, they didn't reach him far enough for a Penthouse with a view in New York. He had to admit this was pretty nice, if a little bland. Ilya did always prefer a little surprise element. Something old in a modern space, or an artwork that bordered on unhinged.

"Are you an interior decorator as well?" Ilya asked, gesturing to the room.

"Absolutely not. I hired someone. I don't even think I've added a pillow." Shane hovered near the entrance to the kitchen. "Do you want a drink?"

Ilya walked towards him, watching Shane's gaze drop to somewhere below his chest. "I think there's something else I want instead."

"Oh, yeah?" Shane said, raising an eyebrow. "Anything I can do for you?"

Humming, Ilya stepped in close and brushed his thumb across Shane's cheeks over the cluster of freckles, making Shane's eyes flutter closed. His mouth parted gently, a stuttered breath escaping, and God, he was beautiful. When Ilya kissed him, Shane opened up into it, pliant and eager immediately, his arms wrapping around Ilya's waist. He groaned and licked into Shane's mouth, wanting to consume him completely.

"Fuck," Shane said, breathless, when they separated.

Ilya trailed his lip down Shane's neck and pressed open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

"Please, Ilya."

Fuck, he wanted Shane to beg. He wanted please to be every other word out of his mouth, even when he didn't even know what he was begging for.

They stumbled towards the couch and Ilya dropped down, catching himself with one hand as the other went around Shane's waist.

"What is it you want, зайчикbunny?" He slanted his lips across Shane's neck and sucked gently on the skin below his jaw.

"Just wanna feel you, wanna feel good," Shane said, the words slurred.

Shane was a warm weight in his lap. Ilya didn't know if he'd ever been with someone so masculine and athletic before, let alone someone who was so sweet and eager at the same time. It made Ilya's heart race, his palms running over Shane's muscular back. He enjoyed it a lot, a whole fucking lot actually. In fact, he couldn't believe he'd had such a blind spot up until Shane for the joys of being with someone who could pick him up and throw him around, but let Ilya hold him like this anyway.

He watched, enthralled, as Shane wrung his T-shirt off, his arms flexing with the motion. Shane looked down at him, his eyes wide and dark and hungry, before he pushed Ilya's shirt off, their lips meeting in a messy kiss. Moaning into it, Shane pressed himself close and wrapped a hand into Ilya's curls, pulling so hard it sent sparks down his spine.

Shane clambered off him only to get them out of their jeans, climbing right back into his lap, both his strong thighs resting on Ilya's. Ilya cupped his cheek and pressed his thumb to the corner of Shane's mouth. His lips parting, Shane turned to let it slip past his lips. Ilya moaned, pushing down as Shane sucked on it, his eyelids going heavy.

He leaned in, breath ghosting over the shell of Shane's ear. "You want it so bad, hm?" His hands splayed over Shane's thighs, feeling goosebumps rise. "So pretty, yes? So perfect and sweet, all for me."

Unable to help himself, Shane's hips hitched just slightly, giving him away. He whined, a soft sound at the back of his throat and Ilya's stomach flipped. Gripping him by the hips, Ilya moved him until he straddled one of Ilya's thighs.

"I will let you have this. Make yourself feel good for me, sweetheart."

"Oh, mmmm, fuck, thank you," Shane said and then blushed bright pink, ducking his head.

"So polite," Ilya crooned, cupping the back of his neck. "Come on."

Shane steadied himself with hands against Ilya's stomach as his hips rolled forwards, his lips falling open in pleasure. Keeping his hand at the back of Shane's neck, Ilya watched him, drank him in, let his eyes rove over the way his thighs flexed as he moved. Shane was still in his boxers, the fabric damp against Ilya's skin, and it was almost hotter that he wasn't completely naked—that he was so desperate for it that he was getting himself off on Ilya's thigh, not even bothering to take his underwear off.

The needy little sounds were also going straight to Ilya's cock and he adjusted himself, letting himself linger just a little. He moved his hand to press his fingers to Shane's racing pulse, looking into the slack expression of pleasure. His plump lips were parted, his big, brown eyes glassy and so far gone that Ilya's cock twitched.

"Ilya."

Ilya crashed their mouths together, doing his best to consume Shane, kissing him sloppy and demanding and full of tongue. Shane's breath stuttered into it. Kissing Shane was addicting. Ilya loved how we always just gave himself to it, just surrendered, and he tasted so sweet. He took Shane's bottom lip between his, swiping his tongue across it.

With both arms around him, he pulled Shane further up into his lap, moaning loudly as Shane ground his hips down against him. The room suddenly felt sweltering, sweat sticking to the back of his neck, hair curling at the nape. He slipped his hand into Shane's boxers and wrapped it around his cock, Shane writhing in his lap.

"So good for me," he muttered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"It feels so good," Shane said, voice breaking. "Fuck, you're gonna make me—ngh, fu—"

Ilya couldn't look away as Shane came apart on his lap, face flushed, sweet sounds pouring out of him as Ilya worked him through it. It was fucking beautiful, unreal, and everything Ilya never knew he needed until he saw Shane blushing on an instagram reel. He held Shane tight and let him fall apart.

Presence gradually returned to Shane's gaze and he broke into a small smile before leaning in for a kiss, soft and gentle. Then, before Ilya knew what was happening, he slipped out of his grasp and sank to the floor, pushing Ilya's legs open. He sat between them, face upturned for a moment, hands coming up to splay out on Ilya's thighs. The sight of him sent some unbearable fondness through Ilya's chest, something that was completely foreign to him in this context. He'd felt fondness, he'd felt desire, but he'd certainly never felt both at once. Ilya grabbed a pillow from the couch and pushed it to the floor. It made Shane laugh, all soft and low, the smile lingering as he placed the pillow under his knees.

Ilya's breath hitched and he bit into his bottom lip as Shane leaned in and nuzzled against his bulge. Shane inhaled, groaning softly, and mouthed at the head of his cock through the cotton. Ilya's muscles locked with the strain of holding back. Forcing himself to just watch, he leaned back, fingers twitching with the need to touch. Everything stretched out, then, when Shane pulled his boxers down and closed his hand around his cock, expression intent as he gave it a slow stroke. Ilya was dying to feel those lips around him, would beg if Shane asked him to, was probably begging with the way his hips hitched in response. A deep moan punched out of him when he was enveloped in heat.

Shane looked up at him, his lips wrapped around Ilya's cock, and the sight sent Ilya's mind reeling.

"Oh my god, Shane. So fucking pretty like this."

He pressed his thumb to the corner of Shane's mouth, staring hypnotized at the glide of cock past slick lips. His stomach tightened, breath coming faster, and he was suddenly overwhelmed.

"Shane, I'm gonna come." His voice was rough.

Instead of pulling away, Shane took him in deeper and moaned around him, looking up with those unbelievable eyes, pleading. It slammed into him, making his thighs shake, and Ilya threw his head back, sinking one hand into Shane's hair.

"Oh, fuck," he hissed, bucking up into it so Shane choked a little and he pet the back of his head in apology.

Pulling away, Shane breathed heavily as he wiped his lips against the back of his wrist. Ilya helped Shane clamber back up onto the couch, letting him rest against his side, all boneless and sated and a little cuddly, and then slipped an arm around him. This was usually when he would leave. The awkwardness of navigating the moments post hook up was never something he bothered to engage in, and the relief of leaving was sometimes as good as the orgasm itself. But Ilya didn't want to leave.

The problem was that not leaving meant staying, and staying meant sleeping, maybe waking up, maybe breakfast. Ilya didn't know how to do that and he certainly didn't know how to ask for it. Maybe wanting to was the first step, maybe Shane's arm across his stomach anchoring him in place was the second, and maybe leaving a lingering kiss on the top of Shane's head was the third.

In the end, he didn't even have to ask. Shane just threaded their fingers together, slipped off the couch and pulled him along, leading him to the bedroom by the hand. He sprawled on the bed, watched Shane's surprisingly involved routine for cleaning his teeth. It was oddly soothing, just chatting casually as Shane did his little things.

He almost fell asleep, eyelids heavy. Maybe he was even gone for a second, until Shane shook him awake and thrust a spare toothbrush at him.

"Brush your teeth, Ilya," Shane said. "And wash your face."

Ilya rolled out of bed with a grin, sticking the dry toothbrush into his mouth. As he passed Shane, he swatted playfully at his ass, laughing at Shane's indignant squeak as he ran into the bathroom.

Ilya Rozanov was in his apartment.

They woke up wrapped up in each other, legs tangled and Ilya's arm heavy over his waist. Shane had never woken up with anyone like this before, with a swoop in his stomach and the need to burrow in closer. Usually, he was up and out of bed as soon as he woke up and he never had the urge to stay in, but this morning he let Ilya push him down into the sheets and sink down on his cock. It was deliriously hot, being barely awake as the man who apparently gave the world's greatest blowjobs sucked his soul out of his dick.

Shane had thought he would hate having someone in his space, that it'd piss him off to have someone make fun of his hygiene products and his dietician-approved breakfast, but instead he was hiding a smile behind the back of his hand when Ilya sat a cross from him, lamenting the lack of sugary cereals.

"I am American now, Shane, I need my cereals." Ilya gave an aggravated wave of his hand. "How will I be lucky when there are no lucky charms?"

"I guess you'll just have to rely on your natural born luck and the fortune of a breakfast that isn't spiking your blood sugar through the roof."

When Ilya left, the silence was loud. Shane put both their plates in the dishwasher along with their mugs. It felt suddenly natural to have two of anything out, not just the one, and Shane was truly unsettled by how quickly that happened. His lips still tingled from the kiss Ilya had given him at the door, their bodies flush against each other and Ilya's hand at the back of his head.

He looked at his phone properly for first time since yesterday, fielding several messages from his mom and another few emails from his agent. And then there was Jackie.

Jackie

 

Jackie

So how did it go??

How was the arcade bar?

 

 

His chest felt warm at the memory of her helping him brainstorm date ideas, the two of them across from each other at the kitchen table after dinner with the Pikes. It was the kind of thing he'd never even thought he could have. Telling a friend about his date without dread and shame, planning a new one without trying to dodge the whole thing entirely. Sharing his excitement with someone who put her hand on his arm and told her how excited she was for him.

He almost couldn't believe this was his life, that he'd somehow made it here when he'd spent most of it assuming he'd either bite the bullet and marry a woman or come out after retirement. But now, Rose was helping him with date outfits and Jackie was helping him pick date spots and J.J. was setting him up (even if he didn't want him to). And Hayden, well, he was trying his best.

Instead of texting Jackie back, he called her.

"—Ruby, no, the wall is not your coloring book. Oh, wait a second." There was a series of clanks and a shrill shriek on the other line. "Hi, Shane, sorry!"

"Hi, Jacks. This is a bad time, maybe?"

"Oh, no. There wouldn't be much of a better time, probably. They're drawing." Jackie paused. "Mostly. How was the date?"

"Well," Shane said, smiling down at nothing. "He just left."

"Shane Hollander," Jackie said, her voice pitched low as if sharing a secret. "I'm delighted. So, the Arcade bar was a success?"

"Yeah, thank you so much, honestly. It was a great idea. We had a lot of fun, and it was nice to have something to do."

"Are you seeing him again?"

Shane looked over at the couch, heat rising to his cheeks as he remembered Ilya sprawled over it, looking like something out of fantasies Shane had never even dared to entertain. And it wasn't even how hot he was, but how heady the connection was, how every touch felt dizzying, how weirdly free Shane felt during all of it.

"Yeah, I really want to." Shane ran a hand through his hair, resting it at the back of his neck. "I think he wants to as well?" He lowered his voice. "I think he actually likes me, Jacks."

What a miracle it was to admit that out loud.

"Of course he does. He should like you, because you're hot as hell, the greatest hockey player in the world, kind and funny and loyal. There's nothing to not like about you, Shane."

"I'm kinda weird, though. You know, this, like… I have things that I like and don't like, things I like to do certain ways. I know that's not always—I don't know."

"We all have our things, though. Hayden sings so horribly in the shower Jade started crying once and brushes his teeth in warm water. Warm water, Shane! Who does that? And I can't stand it when people touch my feet and if the temperature in the house drops below 23 degrees I get cranky as hell. And I still like Hayden, and love Hayden. He likes and loves me too."

Shane hummed and knew he didn't sound convinced.

"Those things don't matter when you truly like someone. Actually, they'll make you like them more, a lot of the time. If Hayden suddenly stopped singing in the shower, something would be missing, you know?"

"Really?" Shane had heard the shower singing once or twice. He didn't think he would miss it if it disappeared.

Jackie snorted. "Yes, really."

The calendar on Shane's fridge caught his attention. "We're going into playoffs, though, I probably won't be able to see him at all."

"Give him tickets to a game! That's fun. And you can meet after."

"You don't think that's too much?"

"Well, he doesn't have to make a huge show of being there, unless he wants to. He can just go there in a hoodie and hide if that's what he'd like."

"Ah, so you're not putting him in a WAG jacket."

"Oh, baby, you know I would. In a heartbeat."

"I'd prefer if we didn't send him screaming for the hills, probably."

"I don't know," Jackie said. "Something tells me he'd love it."

"We've been on two dates. I don't think we're in WAG jacket territory. And I can't meet him after, I have to keep my head in the playoffs."

"Oh, fu—udge that," Jackie said and Shane laughed at her near slip up. "You can take two hours out of your night to—" She lowered her voice and whispered, "get railed."

"Jackie, what the hell."

She cackled.

"So you really think I should give him tickets?" Shane bit down on the nail on his thumb, worrying it between his teeth.

"Yes. At worst, he'll say no."

"Oh, if that's all!"

"Be brave, Shane. It'll be worth it."

In a twist of fate, the Admirals caught a wildcard for the playoffs and ended up being their first round opponents. The moment he found out they'd be in New York, Shane knew he had no real reason not to offer Ilya tickets. And if he gave him two, he could bring a friend and it wouldn't even be that big of a deal, really. People gave out tickets all the time. It was nothing.

Actually offering them was another matter.

They'd been texting every day, the texts turning more and more mundane. The first day Ilya texted him good morning, Shane nearly tripped over his own feet on his way to the fridge. Since then, Shane had taken the step to add a good night message. But still, figuring out how to bring up the tickets was a conundrum. Should he ask if Ilya even wanted to go, or should he present them as a gift? Should he just drop a casual hey, there are tickets for the game for you?

"Why are you staring a hole into your screen?"

Shane looked up to find Hayden hovering by his stall.

Looking around to make sure no one else in the locker room was paying attention, he leaned closer. "Trying to figure out how to bring up the tickets to Ilya."

Even though the team had been pretty alright about him coming out as gay, he hadn't really spoken to many of them about the dates with Ilya. He didn't want to jinx it, for one, and he also didn't want it to be a subject of ridicule. Maybe when it wasn't as new, he'd feel better about it, less exposed.

"So you're getting him tickets, then?"

"I mean, it's in New York. I feel like it'd be rude if I didn't even offer."

Hayden pressed a hand to his chest. "They grow up so fast."

"Fuck off." Shane laughed. "I'm almost 30."

"You're 25."

"And? That's almost 30."

"So, can I expect you to actually pay attention to the game if your boy shows up?"

"Oh my god," Shane said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, Hayden, I'll still remember how to skate. Maybe even play hockey."

"I don't know man." Hayden gave an exaggerated wobble of his head. "I think you'll have to prove it."

Shane narrowed his eyes, knowing fully well what Hayden was doing. He looked down again, knowing he was going to think about this all afternoon and night if he didn't do anything.

Ilya

 

Shane

Hey! Hope your day is going well. Did your meeting turn out okay? I was wondering if you're busy on Saturday? If you're not busy, I have two tickets for the playoff game if you want them. You can bring a friend, if you like.

 

 

He put his phone into his pocket and tried to ignore the message he'd just sent off. Even as it buzzed on his way out, he left it there until he was back in his apartment, curled up in the corner of the couch.

Ilya

Ilya

hi зайчикbunny

my day has been good and now it's perfect

of course i am not busy on saturday i already cancelled my plans

of course i want them

i will bring my friend sveta or she would kill me probably

 

Shane

Oh, good! It would be great if you were there

Is she the one who worked at the bar with you?

Ilya

yes that's sveta

we knew each other from russia too

 

There was a photo of them further back on Ilya's instagram feed, their heads leaning against each other. Ilya's face was scrunched up into a stupid grimace and Svetlana Vetrova, as she was tagged, looked stunning, her eyes staring straight into the camera. Shane didn't know if what he felt when he looked at them was jealousy or insecurity or both, but he couldn't help the tight pull in his gut at the two of them together.

Ilya

Ilya

i feel like i need to tell you that we used to hook up sometimes

but it was never anything more for us we were always just friends

 

Shane stared at the messages for a moment, a lead weight dropping into his stomach. Maybe Shane just didn't get dynamics like these, because for him it seemed impossible to be friends and still freely have sex and feel nothing. He knew that wasn't how everyone else worked, because he'd heard enough about vaguely similar situations throughout the years, but it just seemed so impossible to him that you could be so close to someone for so long, have sex with them and still not ever want to be more?

Ilya

Shane

Okay

 

He was about to drop the phone onto his coffee table when it started ringing. Even though they'd been texting since the last date, they hadn't been calling. He cursed, debating whether he should just ignore it, but he didn't want to seem like he was being a petulant child because Ilya had at some point had sex with other people. If anything, he just wanted to process it a bit without Ilya as an audience, but if he ignored this, it'd seem like he was mad about it.

"Hi," he said, aiming for casual.

"Shane."

The tone made Shane want to disappear.

"Everything's fine, Ilya, I promise."

"I don't think so. It did not seem fine." Ilya let out a breath. "Maybe I should not have brought this up when you offered me tickets. Was a bad time, I think, I'm sorry."

"No, no, please." Shane held his hand against his forehead, wishing his stupid feelings away. "I was just surprised. Or not surprised, just caught off guard. It's hard for me to understand, I think."

"What is hard to understand?"

"She's very pretty, and you've known each other for such a long time and clearly care about each other, and you have sex. So, I don't know, I guess to me that sounds like—a relationship is basically that, isn't it?" Shane pulled at his hair, frustrated. "I'm not explaining this well."

"You think one day I will want more with Sveta," Ilya said.

Shane laughed a little. "To be fair, I haven't had time to think much at all. I really didn't mean to make this a big deal."

"Maybe I am the one making it a big deal, actually."

Shane smiled, despite himself. "Yeah, God, you drama queen."

"Sveta would make so much fun of me if she saw this."

"Saw what?"

"Me calling you in panic because I need you to know that Sveta is like a sister to me."

"A sister you fuck."

"It is a bit complicated sibling relationship."

Shane could hear the smile in his voice and he relaxed, leaning back on the couch and staring up into the ceiling.

"She does not want me like that," Ilya continued. "I do not want her like that. I need you to know this."

It hung in the air for a moment before Shane hummed.

"So you and the sister you've fucked will come to the game?"

"Shane, please for my sanity, call her Sveta."

"Hey, you're the one who said she's a sister to you, this isn't my circus or my monkeys."

"Has anyone told you that you are an asshole, Shane Hollander?"

"Nah, I think that's a you problem."

This made Ilya laugh, a loud, inelegant sound that made the corner of Shane's mouth tip up in response.

"So," Ilya said, voice low. "Can I see you when you are here? You have two days between games."

The fact that Ilya had checked this already sent off little sparks in his chest.

"I should probably focus on the games." Shane let his fingers skim over the seam of the pillow he'd brought into his lap. "But I really want to see you."

"I will not be distracting. Will be very good boy."

"You're always distracting," Shane admitted.

"Well, maybe distraction is good. Have you ever tried blowjob for performance?"

Shane laughed. "Admittedly, I haven't tried that."

"Maybe we should try it. For science."

"Ah, yeah. For science."

There really was no use denying that he wanted to see Ilya. He wanted it so badly that he was willing to upend his playoff routines for it. How bad could it really be to spend a few hours together? Chances were he'd be even more distracted if he had to pretend he didn't want to, knowing Ilya was somewhere in the building but he couldn't even see him.

"You will wave to me on Saturday, yes?"

Shane flushed at the idea. Shane Hollander had never waved at anyone in the audience. Maybe his parents in his rookie season, but other than that, no. Shane Hollander didn't do that.

"If I see you."

"Oh, you will see me."

Game day 1 had felt good since the moment Shane stepped out of bed. His morning yoga routine had left him focused, his mind zoned in on the game in a way that didn't veer into overthinking. It was only in brief moments he remembered that Ilya would be in the audience, and even that only seemed to heighten the positive buzz of anticipation.

The good feeling held as he skated out for warm ups, Hayden chatting in his ear like he always did when he was just a little bit on edge. Shane tuned him out, knowing Hayden didn't need an answer, and set off to do a few slow laps. It was then that he allowed himself to look up into the stands, towards the section he knew Ilya was in. For a moment, all he could see was a sea of blurred faces until Ilya suddenly came into focus.

Ilya was wearing a Hollander jersey and a beaming smile, making Shane's heart flip flop acrobatically. Next to him was Svetlana, hitting him in the arm as she noticed Shane looking at them. Shane swallowed down every bit of self-consciousness and raised his hand in a wave as he skated past them and couldn't hold back a smile when Ilya waved back, full of infectious enthusiasm. He looked happy to be there, which was a little overwhelming to recognize. Hayden came up next to him and pointed up at the jumbotron where Ilya and Svetlana were now displayed across the screen. When Svetlana saw them, she pointed towards it, nudging Ilya until he noticed it too and winked.

"Well, I guess that cat's out of the bag," Hayden said.

Shane bit back a smile. "Seems like it, yeah."

"Are you for real, Capitaine?" J.J. exclaimed, stopping abruptly mid-lap. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Depends who you think it is."

"Oh, he's got jokes now," J.J. said to Hayden, thumb pointed to Shane.

Hayden grinned and waggled his eyebrows. "Full of surprises, that one."

"Alright," Shane said, laughter present in his voice. "Get your heads back in the game, yeah?"

J.J. threw an arm around his shoulders and jostled him. "Let's go win this so you can impress your boy."

@ameliajean

Is that Ilya Rozanov of smash or pass fame??

@shaneypie

oh so our good friend shane did in fact smash that

@sweetiebbie

The way I don't know if Hollander is waving at the man or the woman and I'm happy for him either way

voyageurvoyagie how about BOTH

@hollanov

the fact that i got this username weeks ago i never stop winning

@alwaysrozzy

Obsessed with the idea that Ilya saw that video and just went "yes that boy is mine" TRULY iconic

@ginabriya

Okay wtf am I missing? This doesn't mean they're like together

@ohmyilya I mean he's there in a Hollander jersey

@ginabriya So is half the arena?

@ohmyilya Yeah and did Shane wave at them too with heart eyes?

@ginabriya This is reaching, seriously

Mom

 

Mom

Great game, Shane! Your offense was fantastic today.

And what a handsome man wearing your jersey too.

 

 

Rose

 

Rose

You are so iconic

 

shane

Something tells me this is not about me fucking up the Admirals

 

Rose

Yeah that too, sure

ICON

DIVA

YOU ARE THE MOMENT

 

Shane

You are insane, actually

 

Rose

I'm HAPPY FOR YOU

He looks hot in your jersey

 

Part of Shane really wanted to take Ilya up on his offer to take him out to a gay bar, but he also knew he was far too run down for that this late in the season. It would only give him a pounding headache and problems that would be difficult to explain to his coach. Besides, now he got to go to Ilya's apartment, and maybe they could go to a gay bar over the summer, if Ilya still wanted to be with him then.

Ilya's apartment was on the 5th floor of an apartment building in West Chelsea. Nestled between two brick houses, the building looked like it was a converted warehouse, and inside the lobby downstairs was bright and modern. Shane almost felt like he was about to be escorted out, even when the doorman guided him to the elevator.

When Ilya appeared in the doorway, Shane's stomach flipped the moment Ilya smiled at him, all warm and big and genuine, like he was truly happy Shane was here in a way Shane wasn't used to at all.

"Hi," Shane said, voice breaking slightly.

Ilya just reached over, sliding his hand into Shane's hair at the back of his neck and pulling him in close, liquefying Shane's spine in the process. Clutching onto Ilya's T-shirt, Shane parted his lips and let Ilya kiss him, his mouth warm and slow. When he sighed, he felt Ilya smile against his lips and the kiss lingered when Ilya pulled back, thumb brushing over Shane's cheek.

"Come, I have made us food."

They settled at Ilya's kitchen island, their knees knocking together. Ilya had made them BLTs. It wasn't terribly often that Shane made himself bacon, but Ilya had made it for him, so he wasn't going to turn it down. It was delicious too.

"Sveta says thank you for the tickets," Ilya said, something playful in his expression.

"Ah, so she had a good time?"

"Great time. She said you look really hot out there."

"Oh, she did, did she." Shane hid his smile behind his sandwich.

"Yes, she is terribly jealous of me." At the sight of Shane rolling his eyes, Ilya continued, "no, really, she is very jealous." He bumped his knee against Shane's. "I hope you know that you are very pretty and very good at hockey."

"The best at hockey, some would say."

"Ah, yes, some. Not you, though," Ilya said, voice full of laughter.

"No, I would never."

"But you do call yourself pretty."

"Oh, yeah, every day in the mirror."

Ilya laughed, cupping Shane's cheek for a brief moment. "No one ever talks about how funny you are."

Shane hummed. "I've never really showed myself fully, in public. Maybe not even in private, to be honest? Maybe it was being closeted, or feeling pressure to be perfect, or a bit of both."

"I think people would enjoy seeing more of you."

"Do you really think so?"

"100%, Shane. People love to see people who are great at things also be real. Authentic, yes?"

"It's safe, though, just being mostly about hockey. And what if—" Shane stopped, looking down at his knees. "—what if people don't like who I am, then?"

There was a touch under his chin and Shane let Ilya tip his head up. Ilya's expression was soft, an easy smile on his face.

"Impossible."

Ilya's bedroom was spacious, all white walls and black accents, but Shane didn't pay much attention to it as he was pushed down onto the large bed in the middle of the room. Ilya pressed him into the mattress, his body like a heavy weighted blanket while he kissed Shane until he felt dizzy. Being under Ilya, their bodies melding together, was unlike anything else. He was eclipsed and safe and consumed all at once. They were things he hadn't even known he had the capacity to feel, though part of him had always wanted to lose himself like this, to give in.

With a strong grip on Shane's jaw, Ilya turned his head to the side and slanted his lips across his cheek and then down his neck, sucking tenderly at spots that had Shane melting into the bed. Fingers brushed into Ilya's curls, holding him there as he mouthed over Shane's pulse point, kisses hot and slow with a hint of tongue. When Ilya licked at a spot below his ear, Shane couldn't stop a little laugh, breathy and punched out of him.

Ilya looked up, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"Something funny, зайчикbunny?"

Shane laughed again only to squeal when Ilya grabbed him by the waist and yanked him even closer, his hands skirting lightly over Shane's sides making him squirm.

"Ilya, don't—Ilya!" Shane wriggled in his grip, thigh knocking against Ilya's.

"Is my Shane ticklish?"

My Shane sent a rush of delirious pleasure through him, his heart thumping heavily. He didn't let himself dwell on it, but instead used his strength to flip them over, delighting in the look of surprise on Ilya's face as he found himself on his back with Shane straddling him. The expression quickly turned playful, his hands brushing up Shane's thighs to rest at his hips.

Leaning down, Shane claimed a filthy kiss, his breath stuttering at the feeling of their cocks sliding against each other.

"I was probably gonna kick you if you kept tickling me," Shane said, lips ghosting over the corner of Ilya's mouth.

Ilya hummed, grip tightening around his hips. "Kinky."

"Oh, you like that?"

"I think you would like it more."

"What, you kicking me?" Shane huffed a laugh.

"A little pain, maybe." Ilya held his gaze. "I think you like when it hurts a little."

Shane wasn't sure if he should be worried or elated that Ilya read him like a book. He smirked, not bothering to deny it and wiggled a little in Ilya's lap instead until Ilya's hands moved to cup his ass, squeezing.

"Maybe a little like this," Ilya said and a light slap landed over one ass cheek.

His mouth dropping open, Shane moaned softly and stared into Ilya's searching face. "More."

"Ah, where are your manners, зайчикbunny?"

"More, please," Shane said, sounding far too happy about it.

Ilya grinned and slapped him harder and gripped his butt firmly before moving to trace a finger around the rim of his hole.

"You are so cute when you're all squirmy," he said, leaning in to kiss Shane's bicep where he was leaning against Ilya's chest. "Have you done this before?"

The press of his finger made Shane's thigh shake and he pushed back against it, eager. "Once. On holiday in Mexico, but it was, god, too long ago."

"Ah, you let yourself have a treat, yes?"

"It always felt like such a risk, I don't know." Shane gave a one-shouldered shrug. "A lot to trust a random man with, especially travelling during hockey season to places where I always figured people would know who I was."

A soothing hand ran down Shane's back.

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah, I liked it. But I think it has potential to be better." Shane grinned at Ilya's open delight.

"So you think I have potential," Ilya said.

"So much potential. Endless."

"Will make it so good for you, sweetheart."

Suddenly Shane was the one who found himself flipped in a disorienting second, flopping back onto the bed. He watched as Ilya reached over to the nightstand, fascinated by the way his body moved. His gaze dropped to his hard cock, remembering how it felt filling his mouth and he almost begged for it again, wanting to go back to that hazy space it had taken him to. It had felt so fucking good, better than anything Shane could recall. He wondered if that was what everything with Ilya would be like, if he was allowed to keep experiencing the new betters over and over again.

"Turn over," Ilya commanded, hand on his hip to guide him.

He flopped down on his stomach, resting his cheek against the soft sheets. His breath evened out, mind going quieter. Ilya's hands were warm, sending zaps of pleasure through him where they touched. When the tip of one finger pressed inside, Shane sighed and bit his bottom lip, forcing himself to go completely plaint.

"Perfect," Ilya said, quiet.

Shane's eyes slipped shut as he focused of the feeling of being opened up around a thick finger and then two. He had forgotten what this felt like, if it had ever felt like this, and he started rocking back into it, making soft little sounds he had no control over. Ilya's strong hand splayed over the small of his back as the other stretched him patiently.

When fingers finally rubbed against the spot that made Shane see stars, he jolted, his back arching as he panted into the sheets.

"Ilya, fuck, oh, that's—"

"You are so fucking pretty."

"This is crazy," Shane said because if it was already this good he didn't know if he would survive it. "Oh my god."

"We can make it crazier, I think."

"That's what I'm worried about."

"You are okay?" Ilya asked, one hand brushing hair from Shane's forehead before he dropped a light kiss in its place.

"Yes, yeah. It's just… do people die from how good this is?"

Ilya laughed, his body vibrating against Shane's. "Maybe we should test it. We will be ghosts together, haunt all the fun places."

"Okay, murder me, then. I'm ready."

"Your dirty talk is so sexy, Shane."

Shane moved up on his knees and braced his hands against the mattress, losing all ability to think when Ilya slowly sank inside, the stretch of it just the right side of painful. It seemed almost impossible for a moment, that this could work, that his body could take this, but still it kept going.

"Holy shit," Shane whined and dropped his head between his shoulders.

Ilya was a warm presence behind him, hands tight on his hips, breath labored. His hips rolled slowly, controlled, as soon as he'd let Shane have a moment, and Shane dropped down onto his elbows.

"Fuck, Shane, you feel—" Ilya grunted, strained, as he gave a hard thrust inside. "Fuck, you are unreal. So fucking good."

Shane was going up in flames, his whole body alight. "Please, more, more, god, uh."

Ilya dropped a kiss between his shoulder blades, the movement pushing him so deep that Shane moaned desperately, and then found a pace that had Shane bury his face into the sheets, open lips snagging on the fabric as he rocked back and forth.

It was so good he almost wanted to climb out of his skin, didn't know where to put it all, his fingers gripping the sheets so hard it hurt a little. Ilya was hot and thick inside, the glide of him relentless and euphoric and so perfect Shane felt tears well up.

He yelled nonsense into the mattress, the sound of their skin slapping loud and obscene combined with the grunts of pleasure from Ilya that drove Shane even more out of his mind. He wanted Ilya to spank him again, just to feel the sting of it, but he didn't have the words to ask for it, his brain scrambled.

Suddenly the world tilted and he was on his back, staring up into Ilya's flushed face, letting out a wounded noise at the emptiness. Not giving them a second to breathe, Shane pulled him down and smashed their lips together, licking hungrily into his mouth, rolling his hips desperately when Ilya slid back inside. Ilya groaned into the kiss, letting Shane attempt to swallow him whole, thrusting steadily to meet Shane's frantic movements.

"I'm gonna fucking come," Shane said, voice strangled, surprised by how suddenly it was crashing into him. "Oh my god, Ilya."

Ilya buried his face into Shane's neck, mouthing at the hinge of his jaw. "You drive me crazy, I want to live in you."

"Yes, fuck, stay, just, just—"

Shane threw his head back, his thighs trembling where they wrapped around Ilya's body, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he came. Ilya fucked him through it, holding him tightly, while Shane just floated in a weightless sensation. Fighting his way back to some sense of awareness, he buried both hands into Ilya's hair and brought him into a kiss. Ilya's mouth was slack, trying to follow Shane, but he was so far gone that he just groaned into it, breathing heavily, his thrusts turning erratic until he came with Shane's name on his lips, swallowed into the kiss.

It was like someone had punched him in the head. In a good way, for sure, but the room reeled and Shane was buzzing from head to toe. When Ilya pulled out and rolled over, he immediately followed, burying himself against Ilya's chest, too overwhelmed to overthink what he needed. Ilya's arm wrapped around him and he played with Shane's hair, periodically brushing it away from his forehead.

"We are ghosts together now, yes?" Ilya asked.

Shane smiled into his chest. "Oh, yeah, I've never been more ghost, I think."

"We should haunt the locker room for hockey teams. Scare people shitless in the shower."

"You just want to see people naked," Shane accused, laughing.

"Well, is there a better time to scare people than when they are naked? I don't think so."

And lying there in that moment, curled up against Ilya laughing about ghosts, it was like the world was opening up in ways Shane had never seen coming. Endless days of them just like this, of Ilya integrated into every part of his life, unspooled in his mind. He didn't know how it would work around his hockey schedule and Ilya's modelling career, but he wanted it, he wanted it so badly. More than he'd ever wanted anything.

"Do you think—" He paused, letting his fingers skim across Ilya's collarbone. "Would you like to be together? Just the two of us, I mean. No one else."

He felt Ilya's chest stutter under his hand. Shane bit into his bottom lip, his cheeks turning hot.

"Ah," Ilya said, attempting to pull Shane even closer. "You want to be exlusive ghosts."

"You're really attached to these ghosts."

Ilya prompted Shane to look at him, tilting his head back. "Yes, I would like that." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, tender and full of promise. "It was already you and me, Shane."