Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

world juniors 2010, Kissing, Boys Kissing, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Secret Relationship, Sort Of, theyre still young still dumb and still gonna kiss about it, Fluff, No Angst, Texting, Canon Divergent, ill add tags as i figure it out, me vs my adhd guys', Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, no beta we drop like shane in vegas, POV Ilya Rozanov, ccm photoshoot, Smut, 1410, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander is Obsessed With Ilya Rozanov, all stars game 2011, im removing the scott hunter shaped problem, First Time

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of a little more romeo, a little more juliet

Collections:

Zulie's Best of Heated Rivalry

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-05 Completed: 2026-02-08 Words: 6,320 Chapters: 4/4

Stuck in this, so let's do it together

Summary

Here lies Ilya Rozanov. Cause of death: Shane Hollander speaking Russian and not kissing him.

Notes

im back and i managed to post in chronological order! if yall don't mind jumping 10 years into the future until i can write the rest, ive got more done and it kinda makes sense to read without additional context, but lmk.

also very much enjoying all the comments and kudos! makes me smile to see them in my inbox :)

enjoy the show. more chapters incoming soon!

Chapter 1: January 2010

January 2010

It’s not like the texting was constant. Ilya had sent a simple доброе утро :) the morning after he had kissed Hollander in the gym. Luckily, Ilya had the excuse of first draft pick to hide behind, because he hadn’t been able to hide the smile that tugged on his lips every time he remembered the feeling of Shane’s jaw in his hand and the fireworks every time their lips had touched. Not even the sparse, negative comments when his father needed to fill the silence could damper Ilya’s mood. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Jane: Good morning, Lily. 

Jane: Did you sleep well?

Lily: yes. Flight leaves in 10 minutes.

He has to wait a few minutes for a reply.

Jane: Have a safe flight! 

Ilya wants to bury his head in his hands and scream. He had no idea what he was doing, he could already feel the thoughts creeping in. bad idea, this is a really bad idea. You’re rivals now. You can’t have him, or his freckles, or his stupid Canadian accent… 

But Ilya remembers how Hollander had whispered potselovat, refusing to make eye contact at first. And now he was telling Ilya to fly safe, and it was a little awkward and Ilya realized that Shane was smart - highest hockey IQ in decades - and probably had all the same worries. He was probably nervous, just like Ilya. Shane had texted anyway, Shane had asked to kiss him, Shane texted him back, Shane probably knew they were fucked. 

They were in this together, or not at all Ilya realized. Shane asks for a kiss, Ilya kisses him. Ilya asks for his phone number, he gets it. Shane texts, Ilya texts back. They did it anyway, even scared of the consequences, one pushed and the other pulled. That was how the game worked. So Ilya found that feeling in his chest that made him feel honest.

Lily: i am not scared of airplane, Hollander.

Lily: i will land in russia safe

Jane: fuck you

Jane: Get Russia to World Juniors so I can beat you

Lily: ))) no

Lily: be ready to lose

Jane: Never

Lily: i will text you when i am back in canada

Jane: See you then!

Ilya did text him again. As soon as his plane had landed back in the same country as Hollander, he had sent off a quick i'm here and shoved his phone into his bag before he could overthink it. He didn’t want to know how fast Hollander would respond, because if Ilya got a text before turning his phone off, he might do something stupid. Which might get him caught, and he wanted nothing less. If he got caught, he couldn’t text Hollander anymore and the thought made him flush. He felt a little like an idiot. I'm here he had said. Like Hollander was waiting for him to arrive, like there was a plan for Ilya to be here. He shuts down the part of his brain that says you are here for a reason, to play hockey and the part that just keeps repeating here here here I'm here. He manages to make it to the hotel with his team and only catastrophizes twice. Someone should be proud of him. He rewards himself by checking his phone as he’s about to walk out the door for practice.

Jane: Welcome back to Canada!

Welcome back. Back. Of course he had been here before, so it made sense to welcome him back. But a traitorous part of Ilya’s brain filed the word back next to the word here. Ilya refused to examine that further then letting the giddy feeling of just hearing from Shane Hollander wash over him and carry him through a great practice. 

He doesn’t actually see Hollander until Russia and Canada are on the ice for the championship game. They had exchanged a few more texts between practice, games, and focusing on winning. Actually most of the texts were chirps, sent after reviewing each others games. It was a game itself. Ilya calls his snapshot sloppy, Shane calls him an asshole. Shane insults his form in third period against Switzerland, Ilya tells him to fuck off.

Jane: You don’t want to admit im right.

Jane: Why are you playing like your ribs hurt?

Lily: am fine, hollander

Jane: Are you actually playing with hurt ribs??

Lily: no. 

Lily: not even bruised

Lily: still good enough to beat you

Jane: You better be ok, asshole. I don’t want to play you if you’re not at your best.

Jane: And I’m still going to win

Lily: ;) we will see

Hollander did win, even had the audacity to say see you in October when he shook Ilya’s hand post-game, and winked. Ilya was pissed off. He wanted to kiss him right there on the ice, and he couldn’t. So instead he makes it through the aftermath of the game, dinner, and finally, finally, retires to his room to text Jane. 

Lily: поздравляю

Jane: Thank you. 

Jane: You didn’t make it easy.

Lily: still lost

Lily: are you busy?

Jane: No. I just got away from my team. I was going back to my room.

Lily: what floor?

Jane: why?

Lily: do you want prize? for win?

Jane: 9th floor

Lily: go to stairwell

Before he could overthink what he was doing, Ilya pulled on a sweatshirt and covered his hair with the hood. The hallway was empty and he made it to the stairs and down to the 9th floor without issue. He saw Hollander before he saw Ilya. He was also wearing a dark hoodie, and a wide grin spread across his face when he saw Ilya descend the last flight of stairs between them. Where they were standing, they were hidden from the doorways above and below them. They would hear anyone coming before either party saw each other. 

“Hi.”

“Hi. You are here.” Ilya stepped right up to Hollander, letting the bubble close around them. His eyes trace Shane’s freckles across his nose, drop to his lips, and brings his eyes back up to meet Hollanders.

“You said I get a prize for winning today.” Ilya can’t help the small laugh he lets out. 

“Yes. What do you want?” Shane stares at him. “You win, you pick prize.”

“Whatever I want?” Shane asks. Ilya realizes that they have moved even closer together. Hollander is leaning against the wall, looking up at him. Ilya nods, and is woefully unprepared to be met by the smile taking over Shane’s face.

“I want…” Shane bites his lip, eyes flicking to Ilya’s mouth and back to his eyes. Tell me Ilya wants to beg. Tell me what you want. I think I know, but you need to say it. “How do you say it in Russian?”

“Say what in Russian?” Ilya asks, he is so close to Shane now, but he holds himself where he is. 

“I want.”

Ilya feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. “Ya khochu…”

“Ya khochu… you?” Ilya feels his heart stutter, and hears the question being asked.

“Ya khochu tebya.” Ilya is going to die. No one rescue him, he’s exactly where he wants to be. Almost, because Hollander is still talking and they haven’t even kissed yet. Cause of death: Shane Hollander speaking Russian and not kissing him.

“Ya khochu tebya… potseluy menya.” The grammar isn’t right, but the point lands, and Ilya couldn’t really care because he finally gets to lean forward and press their lips together. 

There’s no one to interrupt this time. Ilya gets to experience the full fireworks show happening in his brain this time, and the parade in his stomach. One hand finds Shane’s face, the other finds his hip. There’s a hand on the back of his neck now, and his mouth opens to deepen the kiss. Giggling interrupts this action, and he’s not sure if it’s his own or Shane’s because they’re both just kinda grinning into each other. 

Ilya whispers into the small space between their mouths, “Ya khochu, chtoby ty menya potseloval.”

“Shut up. You can correct my grammar later,” and cuts off any more talking. The kiss is deeper this time, Ilya’s tongue ends up in Shane’s mouth, hand holding his face in place. Shane fights back, attacking his mouth like they’re both still on the ice. This is the game Ilya realizes. Push and pull, competition. I like this game.

They eventually end with their foreheads pressed against each other and breathing heavily. Shane lets out a breathy laugh, to match the smile on Ilya’s face, and buries his face into Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya just wraps his arms around Shane and gives him a squeeze.

“Did you like your prize?” That gets him another laugh. Shane steps back and gives him a look.

“Da. I think i liked it.” Ilya needs to update his headstone. Cause of death: Shane Hollander speaking Russain and kissing him. 

“Me too.” He admits. “Good, uh, prize for loser. Yтешительный приз.”

“Consolation prize.”

“Da” Ilya pulls himself back a little more, reluctantly preparing to part ways. “I must go. Cannot get caught.”

Shane looks like Ilya feels, like he’d rather do anything else. Like he wanted to stay right here all night, but he nods.

“Yeah, I should get back to my room.” It’s Shane this time that steps forward and presses one last kiss to Ilya’s lips. Gentle, sweet. “See you in October, Rozanov.”

Chapter 2: July 2010

Chapter Summary

time for the photoshoot

Chapter Notes

Short little chapter while i finish writing this part of the story. chapter 3 at least will be here today, maybe 4 if im lucky ;)

July 2010

He officially moves into a Boston apartment at the start of the summer. As soon as he knows he will be on the continent long term, the texting starts again. Sporadic comments mostly. Shane clarifies things for him when asked, about English, or Boston, or food. They talk about hockey and Shane complains about some of the people he is forced to meet. The ones that say oh, we’re thrilled that Shane is Asian-Canadian. Shane asks about Russia only once. Ilya puts his phone down and paces his apartment three times before making a decision.

Lily: russia is hard topic

Jane: Sorry. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

Lily: is ok. just not always good

Jane: I won’t push. 

Jane: If there are good things you want to share, I'll listen.

Ilya only leaves Shane on read for two hours - the amount of time it took to exhaust himself both physically and mentally on the treadmill. He feels wrung out; both from the concession and the response he finally sends.

Lily: maybe

Two days later, he sends a picture of the slice of medovik he had gotten himself at a small family-run Russian hole-in-the-wall 25 minutes from his apartment. It felt like a peace offering. Thank you for not pushing.

Lily: *picture attached*

Jane: Yum. What is it?

Lily: medovik

Lily: is my favorite

The conversation doesn’t go anywhere else. Shane just takes what Ilya has offered and doesn’t bring it up again. It’s what makes Ilya reexamine the Shane Hollander-shaped feeling in his chest. He identifies it three days later; the feeling vanishes without him noticing and it’s only when it returns while he’s irritatedly complaining about a bigot - a new English word - to Shane that he realizes it’s safety. He feels safe with Shane, in a way he hasn’t felt since he was twelve years old. He could tell his mother anything and she would just hug him and say I love you, Ilyushenka, I always will.

—

When CCM calls and asks him to do a commercial for their brand, Ilya sees an opportunity. Convincing them that having both top draft picks had been laughably easy; Ilya hadn’t had to try too hard before they were agreeing to reach out to Hollander. There is a bit of internal debate before he decides on what to text.

Lily: have surprise

Jane: What? 

Lily: for you. 

Jane: What did you do?

Lily: not telling. surprise

Jane: Asshole. I don’t like surprises.

Lily: good surprise, promise

Shane doesn’t text him again until Ilya is waiting at the airport for his flight to Toronto. 

Jane: They just told me. How long have you known?

Lily: ;)

Lily: see you soon

—

“Ok, seriously. When did they tell you that you’d be doing this shoot with me instead of alone?” They were taking a break while the camera people reset. Ilya was having the best day of his summer; flirt with Shane, play (fake) hockey with Shane, get close enough to see all of Shane’s freckles. His hand found the back of his neck. 

“They tell me nothing. Was my idea.” The confession opens something in the air between them. Surprise colors Shane’s face. “They called me, I tell them will be better with both of us.”

“You set up a joint commercial just so you could see me?” Shane teases, freckles on prominent display under reddening cheeks. 

“No. I set up joint commercial so we can make lots of money.”

“Ok, asshole.” Shane lets the director call him back to the ice, smile still on his face, and he doesn’t turn away from Ilya until he has too.

Post-shoot, Shane beats him into the showers. Ilya doesn’t realize this until he’s already undressed, heading for his own shower that he’s hit all at once with the vision of a very naked, wet Shane Hollander. It takes everything in Ilya not to stare. I’ve had my tongue in his mouth. He lets himself look, but not linger too long. Staring at the firm ass and toned thighs. He tries to focus on washing himself, but can’t help the side glances. Ilya sees a movement at one of these glances, Shane’s tongue darting out quickly and gone in the next moment. Ilya has given up on being subtle, realizing where Shane’s eyes have gone. Several emotions swell in him, pride, arousal, joy maybe. Ilya lets his hand grip his half-hard dick the next time it gets close, stroking himself. Shane is opening staring now, pupils blown wide, dick very interested against his hip.

“Not here.” Shane’s voice cuts through the echo-y room, shutting the water off and walking out. Ilya grins, rinses himself off, and hurries to catch up. He’s disappointed to find Shane already pulling on a shirt and sitting to put on his shoes. 

“I’m having dinner with my mom, to go over some brand deals,” Shane isn’t looking at him, but underneath is a resoluteness to his voice. “I’ll be back at the hotel by eight.”

There’s an invitation there. Not here he had said. The new where was being offered, so Ilya walks over, towel low on his hips, and asks, “What is your room number?”

Shane looks up, brown eyes still big, and doesn’t hesitate, “1410.”

Ilya, under the guise of adjusting his towel, rolls it down another inch, just to watch Shane’s eyes catch the movement. 

“So if I come to 1410 tonight at nine o’clock?”

“I might open.”

“I might knock.”

Chapter 3: Room 1410

Chapter Summary

Room 1410

The elevator couldn’t get to the 14th floor fast enough. Sweat threatened to gather on his freshly showered body as Ilya resisted the urge to fidget. The ding of the elevator surprised him, eyes trained on the display that read 7, not 14. When the doors opened, Ilya found himself looking at Yuna Hollander. That wasn’t part of the plan, abort. Warning: worst possible outcome imminent. 

“Oh. Hello there,” Yuna Hollander looked just as surprised to see him, looking up to notice they were headed in opposite directions, “Oh, I’m trying to go down.”

“Ah, this is going up.” Ilya pointed his finger. He mentally prayed that she couldn’t hear his heart jack-hammering in frantic morse code I’m about to get laid. I am headed up to your son’s room to fuck him if he’ll let me. Your son is waiting for me because we kiss sometimes and I jerked off in the shower and now I'm going to suck his dick. He felt like he was radiating horny nervousness and that this woman would be able to tell it was directed at her son.

“Ok. Well, I’m-” The door closed between them before she could introduce herself. Ilya fell back against the wall, took several deep breaths and focused on the red numbers climbing higher and higher. 11. 12. 13. 14.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Ilya walked forward, using the momentum to circle around Shane and walk him, hands on hips, back against the wall. This was familiar at least. Some of the tension had eased when Shane’s back had hit the wall; Ilya leaned closer and whispered, “Mozhno ya tebya potseluyu?”

He got to watch as Shane’s pupils dilated in real time, leaning forward to press their lips together instead of giving a verbal answer. Ilya’s hand found his jaw, chasing Shane back. A moan escaped him. Immediately, Shane’s mouth opened more, and Ilya’s tongue was suddenly a lot more occupied. Shane’s hands had gone from the wall, to his hips, and were now trailing up his torso, to his shoulders, and back to rest on his pecs. Ilya pulled back enough to shuck his denim jacket. It dropped to the floor and Shane’s hands were back on his shoulders, trailing them to his biceps, squeezing briefly before moving back to Ilya’s chest. They were kissing again, Ilya now had a hand splayed against the bare skin of Shane’s back under his shirt and another on the wall by his head. The sound of Shane trying to undo his belt brought him back into the moment just enough to cross his arms and pull his shirt over his head. 

Shane had paused his attempts to open Ilya’s pants to kiss down his jaw and neck. Shane’s head was spinning, heart thudding. The time between seeing Ilya naked in the shower and him knocking on the door had been a blur. He thought his mom would suddenly gain the ability to read his mind at dinner, but he had made it through unscathed. He was now attempting to do several things at once and was frustrated that he couldn’t multi-task. He felt Ilya grab his jaw again, turning Shane’s head so he could mouth at his neck. Hand sliding up his back, dragging the shirt with him. Shane almost refused to move his hands from Ilya’s belt, but acquiesced, and his shirt joined the jacket on the floor as fast as their lips could reconnect.

Shane finally managed to get Ilya’s belt undone, pull the zipper down, and - before he could overthink - dropped to his knees. The head of Ilya’s dick was in his mouth in moments, cursing coming from its owner above him. The encouragement quieted any thoughts about how little he knew what he was doing. Sucking Ilya deeper into his mouth, he moaned at the feeling. The returning moan is what makes him  move his head, letting Ilya’s dick in and out of his mouth.

“Blyad.” Ilya is pulling him back to his feet, kissing him hard.

“Was that bad?” Shane can’t help but ask. He’s nervous, but the anxiety that is usually swirling in him is blessedly silent - it always is around Ilya. Had it been anyone else, any other circumstance, Shane would have chickened out. And that’s if he had given out his room number in the first palace. Around Ilya, though, he feels a little more brave. Like his anxiety knows something he doesn’t, quieting to one whispering voice saying don’t worry, you can’t scare this one away.

“No. Opposite.” Ilya strokes the back of his fingers down Shane’s cheek, letting his fingers brush the freckles there for the first time. “Too much, too good.”

“Is your first time with a man?” Shane nods.

“You?” Ilya shakes his head.

“Ah, no.” Shane doesn’t know if he’s surprised or not. Or just grateful at least one of them has an idea what they’re doing. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Who? Another player?” Shane should just shut up now, but fuck, he’s curious. It won’t occur to him until later that he might be a little jealous.

“No, my coach's son, back in Russia.” Ilya leans closer, “I like trouble.”

“Clearly.” Ilya kisses him again. 

“Meant nothing, just had same secret. We were…” He trails off, searching for the English word. Shane beats him there.

“Curious?”

“Curious.” Ilya runs his hand firmly down Shane’s bicep, leaning in to breathe into his ear, “Do I make you curious?”

“Obviously.” Shane wants him to shut up and kiss him again, but Ilya’s hand has stilled and is squeezing Shane’s bicep. His mouth is still breathing hot air onto his ear.

“Did you like sucking my cock?” Shane only manages to swallow half a moan, breath catching. Ilya sets his lips lightly to his neck again. 

“Wow. Those English words just roll off your tongue.” Sudden wetness on the side of his neck where Ilya just licked him surprises another moan out of him.

“You want me to, uh, lie on the bed and let you do it some more?”

“Let me?” Shane asks, a smile gracing his features, glad for a new direction. He gets his hands onto Ilya’s bare shoulders and walks him easily backwards until his knees hit the bed behind him. Ilya lets himself sit, toeing off his shoes, and pulling his jeans, socks, and boxers the rest of the way off. 

“Uh, not fair. Come on, I want to see you.” Ilya gestures to where Shane is still mostly clothed. He leans himself back onto his elbows, showing off a little.

“You saw me in the showers.” states Shane. Duh, Shane, that’s why I’m here, he thinks. 

“Yeah, I want more.” Shane is already unbuttoning his pants and peeling each layer off, folding each article of clothing carefully. Ilya’s entire face hurts with the way it splits. That’s so fucking cute. And Shane is just standing at the end of the bed, dick hard, waiting for Ilya to say something. Ilya sits up and reaches out for Shane. He lets himself get pulled between Ilya’s thighs, looking down at him. Those fucking freckles. They stand out so pretty on his face. Hands find Shane’s hips and lips find abs. Ilya places a kiss to the skin above his belly button and stares up at him. Shane looks so pretty like this.

“Ocharovatel'nyy.”

Without taking his eyes off Shane, he repeats it, complete with a kiss. Shane cups the side of his face, running fingers through his curls. He takes his cue, taking Shane’s dick in his mouth. Shane’s head goes back, and his hips jerk. Ilya holds him in place as he continues lathering attention, using his tongue to get a louder moan above him.

“Fuck-” Shane is panting, curls tight in his hand, urging Ilya on. Ilya looks up through his eyelashes to look at Shane; he makes eye contact. The blown out look in the other’s eyes makes him moan, the vibrations causing Shane to moan again. “Fuck, I’m- oh, I’m gonna-”

Ilya holds his hips tighter, burying his nose in Shane’s pelvis as he cums. When he pulls back, he barely has time to look up before there are lips on his. “Fuck,” Shane pants, “That was-”

Ilya kisses him again, pulling him into his lap, hands running up and down his back. “Was ok?”

He just laughs and kisses Ilya again, slower this time, but still heated. “More than ok.” against his lips. 

Shane kisses his jaw, and down his neck, to as much of his chest that he can reach before he has to get off Ilya’s lap to kneel between his legs. Gripping his thighs, Shane licks the head of his dick, prompting a “fuuuck” and a hand on his head, guiding him down. Ilya combs his fingers through Shane’s hair as he helps Shane suck him off. “Da, like that.”

The praise sets off Shane, beautiful noises coming from him, which sets Ilya off. He tugs Shane’s hair, pulling him off, replacing his mouth with his own hand, and guides him up so they can kiss as he cums. At least he tries too, but Shane just sits back and opens his mouth. Where did he learn that? The thought is almost enough, and then he meets Shane’s eyes; Ilya curses again and cums. Shane just lets it land mostly on his mouth and chin, licking up what he can reach. They’re both breathing heavily. Ilya uses his remaining strength to haul Shane to his feet, where Ilya licks the remaining cum off his chin and kisses him. Ilya scoots back - urging Shane on with him - until they’re both laid back against the pillows, arm wrapped around Shane’s shoulders, his head tucked under Ilya’s chin. 

“That was so hot.” murmurs Shane, against his skin. Ilya moves his head to stare at him. He has to ask.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Shane presses his face further into his neck, embarrassed. Ilya squeezes his shoulder playfully. It works, and his head comes up to look at Ilya.

“Learn what?” 

“At the end. When i come on your face.” Shane flushes immediately, groaning and dropping his head back into Ilya’s neck. Ilya jostles him again.

“Come oooon,” teases Ilya. Shane mumbles something unintelligible. “What? English or Russian, Hollander.”

“Отвяжись!” fuck off

“Nooo, it was hot. Tell meeee,” whines Ilya, feeling his dick and heart twitch. Shane turns his head just enough for his words to not be muffled.

“I saw it in a porn once.” Ilya is stunned. “Fuck off, it was the first thing I thought of.”

“Why?” Shane’s whole face is red, but he’s looking at Ilya again.

“You pulled me off, but,” his forehead drops a little, “you swallowed me. I wanted to taste you.” 

Ilya rolls them over until he’s hovering over Shane, he leans in to kiss him once, twice. Stops before the third one to say, “Ty takoy privlejatel’nyy”

“Potseluy menya yeshche raz, Ilya,” He groans at that, pushing their lips together, feeling Shane arch under him as he bites at his neck. 

“Fuck, Shane,” He moans, then in Russian, “Look what you do to me.”

Working his way down to Shane’s nipples, one hand finds one pec, massaging the muscle as his mouth works on the other one. Shane is a writhing mess under him, panting and cursing. Pulling himself from Shane’s chest, he presses their foreheads together. 

“What time is your flight?” He asks, before he can think too hard about it. He doesn’t want to, anyway. 

“Afternoon. I have to meet my mom in the lobby at 10.” Shane lets his breathing even out. “Why?”

“Maybe we take shower now. Then maybe we go again, if you want.” Ilya pauses then, remembering this isn’t his hotel room. He would like to stay, but he can't invite himself to stay. Shane must read his mind, because he says,

“If you want, you could stay.” He bites his lip, “Tonight. If you want. We can go again in the morning.” He adds with coy smile.

This man will be the death of him, “I want.”

Shane pushes them out of bed then and into the shower, big enough for two. They help each other wash, and Shane finds himself back on his knees at one point before they’re both clean, dry, and back on the bed, where Ilya kisses back down his chest and takes Shane’s dick in his mouth until he’s moaning Ilya’s name again. 

They fall asleep, chest to back, Ilya’s nose pressed into Shane’s neck. The next morning they don’t talk about it. Ilya jerks them both off, and kisses Shane goodbye when they part at the door; Ilya down the stairs to the right, Shane towards the elevator exactly 3 minutes later.

Lily: see you in october ))

Jane: I can’t wait to beat you in october!

Chapter 4: January 2011

Chapter Summary

Time for All Stars 2011.

Chapter Notes

January 2011

Abandoning Scott Hunter with the rest of their all star team in the hotel bar is harder than it needs to be. Scott Hunter traps him in a conversation before offering to buy him a drink, not only for beating his previous record, but as a thank you for not letting Rozanov hold the record longer than a few minutes. Shane wants to bitch back at him, I didn't beat him for you. But that would require explaining to Scott Hunter that even if Ilya had beaten him, Shane would just be happy for him, if annoyed the Russian man had beat him again, so he holds his tongue.

One of his teammates overhears Hunter's offer and decides it's a great excuse to drag the rookie to the bar. The biggest consolation is that Scott Hunters can't escape the celebration either. By a stroke of luck, Shane manages to stay in the elevator as it closes, separating the group, leaving Shane alone to press the button for the 12th floor. 

He knew Ilya was waiting for him - I think I'll go to bed early tonight. In the locker room, after the skills competition, he received a text with just four numbers. 

Lily: 1221

He’s relieved when there are no more detours on his way to Ilya's hotel room. Once inside, he only toes his shoes off before basically launching himself at Ilya to kiss him. 

“Get on your knees,” is Ilya's first command when the kiss breaks. Shane's knees hit the ground immediately. There's no belt in the way this time, so there's less delay in sucking Ilya's cock into his mouth. It's not long before he's being pulled back to his feet, lips back against his, and being lifted by the thighs to wrap them around Ilya's waist to be carried to the bed. 

He falls back and wastes no time stripping his top half as Ilya takes care of the bottom half. It is now he notices that Ilya had lost his shirt at some point and was busy stripping his own pants off and crawling on top of him. 

“You broke my record, Shane Hollander.” The admonishment is almost overwhelmed by the pride in his voice. If anyone was going to beat him, it would only be Shane Hollander. 

Shane laughs, “Yeah, Scott Hunter is thrilled.”

“Don't talk about old Scott Hunter while I'm kissing you.”

“He's rooming next door to you,” Shane lets his neck tip back to give Ilya better access.

“Oh,” says Ilya, with a strange note in his voice. “Well, then maybe we let him listen. Would be hot.”

“No,” Shane says immediately. “Besides he’s down at the bar. He wanted to buy me a drink, but I managed to ditch him with the rest of the team.”

Ilya looks curious, “Scott Hunter tried to buy you a drink?”

“Not like that, asshole. He wanted to congratulate me on beating you.”

“You did beat me. Was… infuriating, but was hot.” Ilya is kissing down his chest again, finally taking Shane's dick in his mouth and moaning. Shane just curses, all thoughts of Scott Hunter out of his mind and focusing in on the hot, wet, mouth around him, the strong hand playing with his pec. They’re good at this now. The two times they had seen each other between July and now were opportunities for victory blowjobs they hadn’t passed up. They both agreed that vanishing completely after the games was too risky, but an hour or so of stolen time between post-game and team celebration was fine. 

Ilya’s off him and back at his mouth, where he plants one kiss and taps his hip, “Turn over.”

Shane complies, letting himself relax as Ilya’s hands start rubbing down his side and to his ass. 

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Ilya's fingers are now massaging his ass, light touches between and ghosting his hole.  Ilya’s being gentle, watching for any sign of genuine discomfort, but beyond tensing, Shane doesn't move away. Ilya holds his body slightly to the side so he isn't suffocating Shane. 

“I-” Shane is hesitating, “I have a- a thing.”

“A thing,” repeats Ilya, pausing as English fails him, trying to figure out what thing means here. 

“A dildo.” Oh. 

Ilya leans back over Shane, finger now pressed against Shane's entrance, a firm pressure, nothing more, “What. Color?”

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come oooon…” Ilya tries to tease it out of him, but Shane doesn't budge. He turns over under him to glare; face smoothing out when Ilya just smiles reassuringly and kisses him. He wants to know, but pushing won't help. So instead, he leans in to ask, “Mozhno ya tebya trakhnu?”

Big, brown eyes find his, and Ilya is rewarded with the sight of blown out pupils. “I think I got that one, but just in case…”

He’s so earnest and endearing, open and sweet, but also so fucking sexy. 

“Can I fuck you?” he asks again. 

“Do you have…” Ilya climbs off the bed with a groan.

“Yes, Hollander, I have.” He pulls lube and a condom out of the pocket of his bag, and makes his way back to Shane, sprawled so pretty on the bed.

“Come prepared for something, Rozanov?" He teases.

“Was, uh, hopeful wish.” Ilya is settled back over Shane now, letting a finger stroke over his cheek.

“What if I said no?” It’s an honest question.

“You have not said yes either.” Ilya kisses him, “Then we do different thing.”

Shane hummed. 

“Tell me how to say fuck in Russian.”  

“Trakhni.”

“How about please?”

“Pozhaluysta.”

“So, it would be, trakhni menya…” Ilya puts a finger to Shane’s lips to correct him. Shane seems determined to ruin him in his mother tongue, so Ilya will make sure he’s doing it correctly. He had never bothered before, but no one else had been Shane Hollander, making Shane Hollander level effort.

“Pozhaluysta, trakhni…”

“Pozhaluysta, trakhni menya.” And how could Ilya say no. 

He knows he can’t leave any marks - too risky - but he makes a valiant effort to come as close as possible, moving from Shane’s neck, pausing to lavish attention on his nipples, and down to his hip. He maneuvers Shane’s legs up to his shoulders, waiting for Shane to take them. He places reassuring kisses to Shane’s thighs while he gets his own fingers lubed.

“Is too much, tell me, ok?” He gets a shaky nod, and pushes one finger inside. Shane is breathing heavily above him, but looks otherwise relaxed enough. Ilya takes his time, working his finger, then a second. He finds Shane’s prostate and gets his first long, moaned, “Fuuuck, Rozy.” By the time Ilya is done, and Shane is ready, he’s gotten his name twice more mixed with the cursing. It’s elating, to pull him apart so easily. 

Ilya managed to find the condom and roll it on without embarrassing himself. He crawls back over Shane, kissing him. He reaches to line himself up, “Still ok?”

Shane nods, head falling back as Ilya finally pushes in. He takes it slow, kissing Shane as he sinks in. He’s fully seated, mouthing at Shane’s neck, waiting for Shane to say okay. He builds up his pace, letting Shane get used to each speed, making sure to press kisses anywhere he can reach. When he feels abs tense beneath him, he slows until he stills. Shane whines when Ilya pulls out, but understands the double tap on his hip and obeys. The new position has Shane twisting the sheets almost painfully between his fingers as Ilya fucks into him. Shane manages to brace himself enough to start to thrust back, meeting Ilya each time. 

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya is losing control a little, as heat stirs in his gut. He watches Shane come undone more with each brush of his prostate, “So good for me. Fuck.”

Ilya leans and places kisses up Shane’s spine to his shoulders, “Are you…”

Shane is coming, untouched, moaning Ilya’s name. His ass tightens around Ilya’s dick, and that’s all it takes for Ilya to follow. Ilya lets them collapse gently, so they’re on their sides. He peppers kisses to the back of Shane’s neck, murmuring praises in Russian. 

“Fuck,” Shane groans. Ilya laughs against his skin. They lay for a few more minutes. He finally reaches to rub Shane’s hip as he pulls out to dispose of the condom. 

“Come on, we shower now, yes?” Ilya manages to get Shane into the shower in a repeat of the last time they had done this. Ilya swallows hard at the implication. Twice is almost a pattern, but he refuses to dwell. Shane is making sure there’s always a point of contact between them right now, while Ilya takes care of them. He feels a need to wash Shane right now, and he thinks, maybe, Shane needs to be washed.

Back on the bed, dirty sheets and comforter moved around so they wouldn’t have to lay in the wet spot. Ilya didn’t mind, but he saw Shane’s nose wrinkle at the spot. Ilya doesn’t want to move from his spot against a very toned chest, while Shane’s fingers draw shapes on Ilya’s skin. 

“Thank you.” He says instead, to prolong the moment, “At press conference. Thank you.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.” Ilya can’t tell from this angle if Shane is blushing, shame. “It was a stupid question, that reporter used too many words on purpose.”

Ilya hummed. They stole a few more minutes of quiet conversation about the day, before Shane reluctantly pulled himself up to get dressed. There was disappointment in Ilya’s voice when he asked, “You will not stay?” 

To his credit, Shane looked apologetic. “Not tonight. Too many people will be up for early fights. I’m not risking getting caught.”

Shane walks back over to the bed and leans over Ilya, “I’ll see you in two weeks.” 

Ilya can’t resist kissing him a few more times, before finally letting him go. “Goodnight, Shane.”

Chapter End Notes

I'm so close to getting to the original idea for this AU, which is Vegas 2014. but these boys keep doing things with out telling me. Originally, they weren't going to get a second kiss at world juniors. also, ilya wasn't going to get shanes phone number until 1410, and he definently wasn't supposed to spend the night, but these boys are determined.

and is this one of those fics where the author definently has a specific special interest? yes, kudos to whoever can guess what it is.

im spending the super bowl tomorrow cranking out as much as i can and getting wine drunk.