Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Jackie Pike, Hayden Pike, Rose Landry, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Good Friend Svetlana Vetrova, POV Shane Hollander, POV Ilya Rozanov, Angst with a Happy Ending, Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, Anxious Shane Hollander, Soft Ilya Rozanov, Smut, Shameless Smut, Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Yearning, Shane Hollander & Rose Landry Friendship, Good Friend Hayden Pike, Soft Dom Shane Hollander, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov, Power Bottom Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, Jealous Shane Hollander, Idiots in Love, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Freak Shane Hollander, Dom/sub Play, Explicit Sexual Content, Panic Attacks, Top Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov Needs A Hug, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Protective Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-01 Completed: 2026-04-11 Words: 60,937 Chapters: 41/41

I Need You

Summary

“You like this.” Ilya said more like a statement than a question.

“Like what?”

“When I said that this is something serious.”

Shane blushed and looked away.

Ilya gently grabbed Shane's chin and brought his face up to meet Ilya’s eyes.

“I like it too.”

OR

Shane and Ilya don’t hook up until a little later on in their story, but not for lack of trying or interest. When they do finally get together, things move faster and feelings are expressed sooner. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t difficult moments to overcome on the path to their happy ending.

This story is an exploration of a completely alternative timeline in the Hollanov love story—using a combination of the show and the original Heated Rivalry and Long Game books. There will be pining, yearning, big emotional moments, and angsty roadblocks. With, of course, a very happy ending for our boys.

Notes

Hi friends! THIS IS FINALLY COMPLETE!!!

I had SO much fun exploring the moments unseen in the books and show (what did Ilya buy at the grocery store for the tuna melts??) and writing pivotal moments in their story with an entirely different lens.

I hope you enjoy!

________

No AI used ever—fuck AI. I wrote 60k words in 10 days because I have ADHD and this was the most intense hyperfixation I’ve had in my entire life.

Conversations happening in Russian will always be italicized. Translations for Russian words/sentences are always included in chapter end notes.

I read and respond to every single comment—I love y'all!! 🫶🏻♥️

Chapter 1: Ilya Rozanov is Not Obsessed with Shane Hollander

Early December, 2008 | Moscow

—Svetlana—

Ilya’s long limbs were comfortably sprawled across the cushions of Svetlana’s couch—allowing him an unobstructed view of the television in her Moscow apartment.

He was wearing old joggers, but was otherwise uncovered. He had an infamous and ever-apparent lack of need to be fully clothed unless absolutely necessary. His left hand was rolling his ear lobe in soothing circles, and his right hand was shoved down his sweatpants—Ilya’s favorite TV-watching position. 

Svetlana noted Ilya’s focus on the TV as she approached from the other room. She was also wearing loungewear and was carrying two half full glasses of vodka. She handed one to Ilya, her eyes turned to the screen in a questioning squint.

“Is this the Canada vs. Switzerland game?” 

Despite his best efforts to look casually disinterested in the game, his body was stiff and his eyes never once left the screen—even when Svetlana spoke while handing him his glass of icy-cold vodka.

“Yes, I needed something to make me tired for bed. This is the perfect amount of boring.” Ilya’s eyes still did not move away from the television.

Svetlana rolled her eyes. She knew that her best friend was full of hot bullshit—from his beautiful curly head to his wickedly talented feet.

They had been best friends since before they could write their own names. 

When Svetlana was three years old, her father, Sergei Vetrov, retired from his famously successful career in hockey. Through his post-career mission to keep his power and fame, Vetrov ended up becoming a strong political ally to the Russian government. Ilya’s father was attracted to Vetrov's fame, and Vetrov saw an opportunity for an in with the police-enforced administration. They became political allies, and forged something close to friendship. As close as a retired hockey player and a dickhead police chief could get—with their only common interests being Russian vodka, hunger for power, and a mutual hatred of capitalism.

She plopped down next to Ilya, shoving his feet down so that she could lay her head across his lap.

“And who is that?” She straightened a little to see better, locking her gaze onto the Canadian center who had just sank his third puck into the net—the commentators excitedly announced that it was his second hat trick in the World Junior Ice Hockey Championships final.

Ilya scoffed. “Ah, Shane Hollander. Center for Canada, and the most boring man alive. I saw an interview where he was asked what his favorite hobby was—you know what he said? Reading books about hockey.” Ilya rolled his eyes so hard that Svetlana was worried they might disconnect from their sockets. He crossed his arms across his large chest, but then moved one hand back to rest on top of her head, thumbing affectionately through her curls.

“Mmm, but he is gorgeous, yes? Those hands…” Svetlana side-eyed Ilya with a smirk.

Ilya’s affinity for both women and men was an unspoken understanding between them. Svetlana knew about Sasha, and Ilya knew that she knew—they just never really openly spoke about it. But Svetlana loved to find any opportunity to push on this dynamic. Not just to produce the hilarious blush that was now hot on Ilya’s ears, but she genuinely wished that Ilya knew that she could be fully trusted. She would take any of his secrets to her grave. Plus, it was fucking hot to think about Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander together. Can you imagine? She suppressed a small laugh behind her hand at the wild thought.

“Really? I don’t see it.” Ilya sniffed and pretended to check something on his phone. But his eyes comically did not follow the motion of his body—which forced him to awkwardly squint to see the screen properly.

Svetlana huffed in a way that made it clear to Ilya that she was calling his bullshit.

She turned her head in his lap and tugged his chin so that he would finally meet her eyes. 

“Is that why you keep watching his highlights every night on your computer? I recognize his number now. You are fucking obsessed with him, Ilyushenka!” 

She grinned even wider now and kicked her feet with glee at this new topic that was making Ilya blush. She knew that he hated when she made him flame red from his ears down past his neck, claiming that Russian men did not—under any circumstances—blush.

Ilya was now very much pretending that he was “not blushing”, but the deep pink flush from his ears all the way down to his mother’s necklace was telling a truer story of just how much Ilya was embarrassed to be called out.

—Ilya—

He was absolutely not “obsessed” with Shane fucking Hollander. 

Coach told the entire team to watch and analyze every single championship final game. And Russia was predicted to face Canada in the final match. Obviously he needed to know all of Shane’s tricks. Which required vigilant studying of Shane's game play. 

Didn’t that justify him spending hours and hours replaying his highlight reels? And watching every press interview he could find on loop? And reading his print articles? And finding his Facebook fan page? 

And it was totally normal to internet search “pictures of Shane Hollander shirtless”. To..uh..to..you know, to see what his muscle mass was like. For..competitive research. Yeah, for competitive research. Because..body composition can..significantly influence how a player moves on the ice. Totally normal rival research stuff.

Shane Hollander’s body composition also had a significant influence on Ilya’s fantasies while he jerked off. 

But, no one needed to know about that—especially not the grinning teasing version of Svetlana who was laying on his lap and relishing every moment of this interaction. 

Ilya Rozanov was very much the-opposite-of-obsessed with Shane Hollander. Thank you very fucking much.

But a week later, the night before their big face off in Saskatchewan, Ilya was running through every possible scenario in which he could get a moment alone with Hollander. 

Just to..you know..confirm the body composition thing.

Chapter 2: Things are Lukewarm on the Ice in Saskatchewan

December 22, 2008 | Saskatchewan

—Shane—

Shane Hollander was riding the high of his team’s winning streak. They were playing Russia now, in the World Junior Ice Hockey Championship—and he was determined to win.

He had been dreaming of this moment for years. He had also been dreaming of meeting Russia’s star center, Ilya Rozanov.

It was hard to find a lot of personal information about Ilya, but easy to find dramatic goal compilations on YouTube set to loud Russian rap songs. 

One of the videos, Shane might have watched a few times back-to-back. It was set to a song with a particularly intense beat. The video featured a lot of Ilya’s goals..and maybe one or two clips of Ilya giving interviews while shirtless. Shane barely noticed those clips, he was obviously only interested in analyzing the hockey stuff. He didn’t skip the shirtless clips—and once he accidentally paused the video on a particularly sweaty and flushed Ilya—but that didn’t mean anything weird was happening. It would have been annoying to have to click through every time without missing an important detail of Ilya’s..footwork.

Okay, so..he might have watched the video more than just a few times. It might have been a couple dozen times. Fine, it was exactly forty-seven times. It was for competitive research. Normal. Normal strong hockey player athlete manly man stuff.

And if Ilya’s..goal highlights..popped into Shane’s head in the shower, Shane definitely did not reach down for his..

Nope, he never did anything out of the ordinary while thinking about his rival. Shane was only interested in learning everything he could about Ilya Rozanov because the Russian was his competition.

And maybe, he would try to meet him before the game somehow. For you know, amicable international relationship-building purposes. He was having really totally normal thoughts about shaking Ilya’s large hand. And his stomach swooping was just nerves for the game tomorrow.

He had only the utmost professional interest in his rival. How could he get him alone..

December 23, 2008 | Saskatchewan

—Ilya—

There he was. Shane Hollander, standing next to a pretty woman, Ilya thought that he recognized her from some of the interviews. His mother maybe? Shane was listening to her with astute attention, like she was the only person in the room. Her hands were gesticulating animatedly as she spoke. Shane was nodding along, but then suddenly started shifting his eyes around the room—maybe searching for something? Or someone? He seemed to be on a mission. And then, he locked eyes with Ilya and his searching stopped. It was like he was staring directly into Ilya’s mind, it was a bit disconcerting. They stared unabashed at each other for a brief moment, and then he whipped his eyes back towards his mother, as if he never meant to look at Ilya.

Ilya’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Shane was even more beautiful in person, how was that possible. Ilya continued to stare for a few more seconds before forcibly dragging his eyes away. He glanced around the arena and was suddenly overwhelmed by the number of people. Both the Russian and Canadian teams have started to arrive. Since both teams traveled in for the game, players had just unloaded from large buses and had entered the arena at the same time, before they would be soon directed to their respective locker rooms.

With dismay, he realized that it was going to be impossible to get Shane alone, or even approach him at all. The Russian team is not exactly known for being amicable with competitors—especially not their star center with a reputation of slamming bodies and taunting players. People would definitely notice if Ilya and Shane spoke, and his coach would be furious. And if his father found out, well, he doesn’t even want to think about what he would say about Ilya fraternizing with Canada’s golden boy.

Fuck. He will have to wait for the draft where it was normal, even expected, for players to interact. 

He needed a fucking cigarette.

“I need to call my father, tell him that we have arrived.” Ilya told his coach.

“Quickly. Practice starts in an hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ilya left the room quickly, heading towards a back exit. 

It was fucking freezing in Saskatchewan, holy shit. It was too late to go back inside for a heavier coat, this was his only opportunity to have a smoke before the day became insane.

He pulled his lighter—click..click..click—fuck. He turned to the side, trying to shelter the flame from the chilly wind.

—Shane—

Was Ilya leaving the building? Shane saw him quickly walk past his team and disappear into the crowd. As if on autopilot, Shane followed, speed walking to catch up. He saw the dark coat and curly head shoved into a toque quietly slip out of a back door. Without even thinking, Shane followed.

He saw Ilya walk away from the exit, and then stop abruptly next to a wall on the far side of the building. He pulled something out of his pocket—was that a cigarette? But before he could see more, Ilya turned his back towards him. 

Shane took a deep breath and then started moving towards him. But suddenly his phone rang loudly in his pocket. He went to silence it but saw that it was his mom. Damn. 

“Hey mom.”

“Honey, where did you go? Everyone is looking for you, coach is taking the team onto the ice for practice in ten minutes. Wherever you are, you need to run back here.”

Fuck. 

Shane allowed himself one last look at Ilya’s broad back, but he must have lingered a moment too long, because suddenly Ilya turned towards him and looked directly at Shane. Shane’s breath caught in his throat. Both boys were still. Again, as if on autopilot, Shane took a small step towards Ilya. But then he pivoted quickly on his heel and walked rapidly back into the building.

—Ilya—

Was that Shane Hollander? Yes. It was. What the hell was he doing out here? He would have no reason to be back here unless..no..he wouldn’t be looking for Ilya..right?

His heart seized when Shane took a step towards him, but then suddenly, as if pulled back by a string, he spun around and was gone. Ilya thought that he could’ve imagined it, it was all so fast.

There’s no way perfect Hollander is a smoker, so why would he be out here? To get some air maybe. But he was even less dressed than Ilya, he must have been freezing. Was he really worrying about fucking Shane Hollander being cold right now? 

Ilya didn’t dare to hope that Shane had followed him, and was about to come talk to him. That’s insane.

His cigarette never lit. He went back inside more frustrated than ever.

Chapter 3: Was it Everything You Dreamed Of?

2009 | Draft Day

—Shane—

And for the first draft pick, for the Boston Raiders..Ilya Rozanov!

Are you serious? Are you fucking serious? Shane’s mom tapped him once on the leg, reminding him to clap and smile in good sportsmanship. But his heart had dropped into his stomach. He thought for sure that it was going to be his. Ilya’s face was lit up as he accepted the Boston jersey with his number, 81. He grinned for the flashing cameras.

Would he even get second pick? He was panicking. Thankfully he didn’t have to freak out for long because soon he heard: And for the second draft pick, for the Montreal Metros..Shane Hollander!

Cheers erupted from his table, he thought he saw a tear roll down his mother’s cheek, his father slapped him on the back. We’re so proud of you son! Go up and get your jersey kiddo!

Shane walked up to the stage and took his Metros 24 jersey, and then was directed to stand next to a very glib looking Ilya Rozanov.

He swore that he felt Ilya elbow him lightly as he smiled at Shane. 

And holy fucking shit—Rozanov was beautiful. Like, stunning. The grainy YouTube videos didn’t do him justice at all. He was all perfect white teeth, bright blue eyes, curly golden hair, lightly tanned skin—and damn he smelled good. Shane realized that he was staring and jerked his head away. This was the biggest moment of his career so far, and he was thinking about how Ilya Rozanov—who just beat him in the draft—smelled.

He needed to get a fucking grip.

—Ilya—

Finally, he got to see Shane up close. Very up close, like inches away. He was beautiful. With his freckles and his pink mouth and the prettiest deep brown eyes that Ilya had ever seen. Wow. His heart stuttered in his chest. He couldn’t resist nudging him lightly with his elbow, just to confirm that he was in fact a real human and not a figment of his imagination. And was that a blush creeping up his neck? Was he affected by their proximity as well, or was he just pissed at being second place—or maybe both? He couldn’t help but notice that Shane’s eyes darted all over Ilya’s face—pausing the longest on Ilya’s mouth, before quickly doing a full sweep of his body. Shane must have realized that he was staring, because he yanked his eyes away, almost as if he felt that he had been doing something wrong.

Oh my god, Shane Hollander was fucking checking him out. 

He knew that look, he had seen it many times—and it always ended with Ilya getting laid.

Well, this just made everything a lot more fun. What does Shane look like under that stiff suit? What would he sound like if Ilya pressed him against a wall and kissed him?

Ilya needed to know. He needed to get Shane alone.

—Shane—

That night, Shane couldn’t sleep. He tossed around for hours, but didn’t feel tired at all. His mind was spinning, his body tight. He needed to release this tension, so he pulled on his gym shoes and went for a walk. He found himself on an exercise bike ten minutes later.

He put in his headphones and zoned out. He then did some weights and some stretching. His eyes were starting to droop, so he started towards the exit.

His hand was still on the door handle when it whipped open. Ilya Rozanov stood outside, wearing tight shorts and a loose tank top. He looked insane, like a walking Nike ad. 

They both stared at each other for a moment, before Ilya’s face transformed into a smile and his eyes pointedly dragged down Shane’s body, pausing the longest at his mouth and then his..crotch? Shane suddenly felt as exposed as if he was fully naked. As if Ilya somehow could see straight through his gym clothes.

He shifted from one foot to the other before clearing his throat.

“Um, congrats. On being first pick. Boston is..nice.”

“Thank you.” Ilya’s smile remained. “Montreal is nice too?”

“Yeah. Um, sure, yeah it’s nice.”

“Mm.” Ilya kept moving his eyes across Shane’s face. Shane felt himself blushing. What was happening to him? Was he coming down with something?

“We will be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Yeah, Boston and Montreal play against each other often.”

“Yes.”

“I..uh..I should go. I need to shower.”

He swore that he saw Ilya’s breath hitch as his eyes tracked once again down Shane’s body. 

“Okay. Congratulations as well.”

“Huh?”

“Second pick. Is good.”

Shane huffed. “Yeah well..not as good as first.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Shane gave him a small smile. “I guess I’ll see you next year then.”

Shane stuck out his hand. Ilya looked down at it with a surprised expression, he seemed to hesitate for a moment. But then he reached out and grabbed Shane’s hand and shook it softly. The touch felt electric.

Some men grabbed hard, as if proving their masculinity in a handshake meant almost fracturing the other person's hand. 

But Ilya held Shane gently—almost, delicately? As if Shane were something to be treated with care. His index finger swiped once over Shane’s wrist, pulling an involuntary gasp from Shane’s lungs. He found his eyes dropping once again to the soft lips, and the curly hair, an the inhumanly large biceps of the man in front of him—and oh god, did he just moan?? He needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Uh..um..yeah so it was nice to meet you Ilya. I mean Rozanov. I mean..yeah..bye.” 

What. The. Fuck.

—Ilya—

Did Shane Hollander just moan when he stroked his wrist, and then call him Ilya?

Oh, it was so on.

Chapter 4: Nice to Meet You, Mrs. Hollander

Summer, 2010 | The CCM Photoshoot

—Ilya—

It was almost too easy to orchestrate. When Ilya’s agent casually mentioned that he and Shane had both signed on with CCM, he immediately started plotting. What do you think about ad with both of us? You know, play the rival angle? Would be good, people would love it.

Too easy. Which is why it was so frustrating when the day ended in absolute disaster.

“Not here.”

Ilya’s throat was closing. Not here. Did that mean somewhere else? Did it mean not at all?

He rushed into the locker room, unsure if Shane would be gone or if he’d be waiting for him.

There he was, sitting pretending to be tying his shoe and pointedly looking everywhere but at Ilya’s naked torso.

“I might open.”

Way too easy. It felt way too easy.

Which is why when the elevator door opened and Shane’s mother walked inside, he knew something was going to go wrong. 

“Oh hello, I’m Yuna Hollander, Shane’s mom.” She stuck out her hand. Awkwardly timed hand shakes must be a genetic thing.

He took her hand and shook it lightly. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hollander. My name is Ilya. Your son is very talented.”

Yuna looked almost shocked. Her mouth gaped open and then a small smile tugged up at the corners. “Um, thank you. You are very talented as well. Are you going up?”

“Ah, yes.”

“Okay great, me too, I’m stopping by Shane’s room. He left his smart watch at the arena.”

Ilya’s heart dropped. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Yuna looked at the floor buttons, “oh, your going up to the 14th floor as well? How convenient.”

“14th? Oh no, I pushed wrong button. I am on 12.” He punched the button for the 12th floor and let out a long breath. This could not have gone worse. He just hoped that Shane didn’t say anything incriminating before he realized that it was his mom, not Ilya, knocking on his door.

Did he dare try to wait and come back later? He had waited too damn long to not follow through. He waited in the hallway like a horny idiot for forty-five minutes. Hoping that that was long enough, and then he got back into the elevator. 

His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, he could feel his pulse in his throat.

When he got to room 1410, he put his ear against the door, listening for voices. Nothing, completely silent. He knocked once, quietly. More silence. He knocked again, a little louder. Nothing again. Fuck. Did he change his mind? “Hollander?” He spoke quietly. Again, nothing.

Fuck. Should he wait? Should he knock again? Did he misinterpret how much Shane wanted this? No, no. Shane got hard. He got even harder watching Ilya jerk off, and then gave Ilya his room number. He did not imagine any of that—that was real. 

Did his mom take him somewhere? God. He realized then that he had been standing outside the door for at least ten minutes. He knocked one last time, waited, and then walked away.

—Shane—

“What is your room number?”

“1410”

Holy shit, did he really just give Ilya Rozanov his room number?

It was close to 9pm, and he was freaking the fuck out. What were they going to do? Okay, well he kind of knew, but he had never done..that..with a guy—and now he was about to do that with Ilya fucking Rozanov? What the hell was going on.

A knock at the door caused Shane to jump. He took a deep breath, opened the door and—”mom?”

“Hi honey! You forgot your watch at the rink, I know you need it for your morning workout, so I thought I’d stop by and return it to you.”

“Uh, thanks mom.” Shane took the watch, still standing stiffly at the door, blocking the entrance.

“Okay, so, I guess I will let you get back to resting. Big day.”

“Yeah, big day.”

“Oh, you’ll never believe who I shared an elevator with just now—Ilya Rozanov. He is actually quite polite. I was shocked. Called me Mrs. Hollander and everything. He seems like an asshole in interviews, but maybe that’s all just an act.” Yuna paused, not reading the look of horror on Shane’s face. “Okay honey, goodnight, sleep tight.”

“Okay, bye mom.” Shane closed the door, turned, and slid down to the ground—his back against the door. He felt like he was going to vomit. What if Ilya had already been in here when she came? What if she had come just thirty minutes later and they were already…fuck, fuck, fuck.

This was so stupid, he was so stupid—what was he thinking? This was so dangerous. This was way too risky. 

You know what, no, this was a good thing. His mom showing up was exactly what he needed to snap out of this haze that he was in. He was acting like a horny teenager (he was a horny teenager, but that was no excuse). He would take his watch and go down to the gym and sweat this out. 

There is no way Rozanov was going to knock on his door tonight after knowing his mom was here—would he? No, he might want to hook up with Shane but he couldn’t be so desperate for a fuck that he’d risk it. Someone who looked like that..well, he could have anyone he wanted. Shane was probably just conveniently here, and he had so humiliatingly shown just how easy he would be when he got hard just five seconds after being next to a naked Ilya in the showers. God, what was this man doing to him?

No, there is no way Ilya was still coming tonight—and that was for the best. Finally decided, Shane grabbed his gym stuff and left the room.

Chapter 5: Will You Disappoint Them?

Fall, 2010 | Rookie Year

—Yuna—

“Is lie. Liar told you that, I said 50 goals.”

“Oh my god, what an asshole!” Yuna Hollander said to her husband David—who was currently working on a new five thousand piece puzzle, he looked up with a soft look that he’d perfected over the years to tame Yuna’s hockey rage. But Yuna herself was fighting off a small smile, she had made her declaration without much bite behind it. 

Rozanov did politely call her “Mrs. Hollander” and said that Shane was talented. But how dare he claim that he’ll beat her amazing incredible genius of a son.

But he did call Shane “very talented”…

“What can we expect to see tonight at the first Raiders vs. Montreal game of the season, Jerry?”

“Well Tim, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander will be on the ice as MLH players for the first time—and fans are already going wild. Everyone is waiting for the already-famous rivalry to officially kick off.”

“How did two rookies shoot to fame so quickly before the season even started?”

“The Rozanov vs. Hollander rivalry goes way back to the 2008 Junior World Championship. Russia took home gold after an intense fight on the ice.”

“That’s right, but then Hollander regained momentum, taking home gold the very next year.”

“First and second draft picks, neck and neck from the very start of their careers—and tonight, we hope to see their very first face off.”

“The pressure couldn’t be higher on these young boys tonight. And the audience is guaranteed a good show.”

—Ilya—

“Shane Hollander, will you disappoint them?”

“Nope.”

Ilya grinned when Shane answered in a deadpan and pragmatic tone. So much for trying to forget about how charmed he is by his “rival.”

Shane did, in fact, not disappoint them. Montreal won the game, and in his post-game debrief Shane looked infuriatingly good answering interview questions in flawless French.

Ilya would bet good money that Shane has no idea how charming and beautiful he really is. 

He had tried his very best to move on from the idea of fucking Shane Hollander. But the difficulty in getting to him has somehow made the appeal even stronger. He’d never struggled to get someone he wanted. This situation was obviously a little complicated—given the whole being on rival teams and living in different countries thing. And, oh yeah, being rookies in a famously homophobic sport and the risk of losing everything before they even got started.

But that was all just semantics, nothing that he couldn’t overcome in the face of something much more important—knowing what Shane sounded like when he came.

He got a hint of it when Shane was all sweaty and wearing slutty little gym clothes after the draft, moaning when Ilya barely touched his wrist. But it wasn’t enough, he wanted more. He wanted everything. If Shane sounded like that at the barely-there brush of a finger, what would he sound like when Ilya took him into his mouth?

All Stars would be happening soon, and this time he had a fool proof plan. This time, he wouldn’t fail.

Winter, 2011 | All Stars Game

—Ilya—

Okay, so maybe Ilya’s plan was less fool proof than he had hoped.

He was planning on chatting Shane up during the skills competition, then get him by himself, and then give Shane his room number. It was an excellent plan. Except Shane was literally never by himself. He was constantly next to that fucking dinosaur Scott Hunter. Ilya could risk it and skate by, leaning in as far as he could to whisper 1221, but what if Shane didn’t hear? Or worse, what if Grandpa Hunter heard it?

Fuck.

To his shock, it was Shane who started chatting with him right after he broke Ilya’s shot accuracy record—asshole—he thought fondly.

“Did you have fun last night?”

Ilya had to do a double take to make sure it was really Shane speaking to him. “Yes. Had drinks with team, no boring Canadians or stupid Americans.”

“Ah, so just a bunch of Finnish guys talking about their cousins they’re in love with?”

What? Boring Hollander is funny? Ilya put his hand over his face to hide the laugh that threatened to escape.

It was time, this was his last opportunity.

“I think I am going to bed early tonight.” Ilya could only hope that Shane understood his double meaning.

“Oh..yeah?” Shane responded, a flush already moving up his neck.

Got him.

—Shane—

1221…1221…1221…1221

The numbers echoed around his head for hours. Shane was freaking out. How had he found himself in this situation, again?

It was like his body had decided before his mind was able to weigh in, because around 10pm, he found himself getting into the elevator and pressing the button for the 12th floor.

1221…1221…122—

“Hollander!” 

Oh fuck, was that Scott Hunter? 

“Um, hi Mr. Hunter.”

Scott laughed kindly, “Hunter is fine, kid. Or, Scott, whatever you want.” He looked up and down the hall. “I didn’t realize you were on this floor.”

“I..uh..am not. I am..uh..I was sent by my coach to..to..”

Hunter seemed to read something in Shane’s body language, a look of understanding that Shane didn’t know what to do with.

“No worries, kid, it’s none of my business. Hey, great shooting, rook. See you on the ice.” And with that, Hunter walked up the hall and into his room.

His room was 1222. As in, right next door to 1221. Fuck.

Shane was frozen in place. His anxiety was spiking. What if Hunter came back out the moment Shane knocked on Ilya’s door. Did Hunter know that that was Ilya’s room? He seemed to know that Shane was not on this floor, so that must mean he knows the players that are, right?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Shane turned on his heel and ran back towards the elevator.

—Ilya—

“Hollander!”

“Um, hi Mr. Hunter.”

Mr. Hunter? Ilya rolled his eyes.

“Great shooting, rook. See you on the ice.”

Ilya heard the close-to-mumified Scott Hunter open and close his door. The door right next to his. And he swore that he could feel Shane’s anxiety in the hallway.

Come on…come on, Shane. You can do this. It will be okay, just come knock. Come knock, I will open the door and have you pinned against the wall in just seconds. Please, just knock.

More silence. No knocking. Ilya started panicking. This wasn’t happening, not again. Not when he was so close.

Fuck it, Ilya went to his door and whipped it open. He looked left and right, just time to see Shane disappearing into the elevator down the hall. Too far away for Ilya to run and catch him. The elevator doors closed with an audible *ding* which meant that Shane Hollander had escaped him yet again.

Fuck.

Chapter 6: Rookie of the Year

Chapter Notes

Summer, 2011 | Boston

—Svetlana—

Ilya was being moody. Sometimes he got like this, and Svetlana would just give him space and he’d eventually come back on top, bouncing around like a golden retriever. But Ilya has been moody for an unusually long time. And she was starting to get worried. He hadn’t even tried to have sex with her lately, which was very concerning.

“Are you okay?” She asked, as they laid next to each other in bed, lazily lounging while scrolling on their phones.

“Yes. Why?”

She sighed, Ilya was immediately defensive. She also knew to expect this. Ilya did not like to acknowledge his mood swings. Russia is not exactly big on feelings.

“You just seem..off. Since the All Stars game. You performed so well, and you had a great rest of the season. Did something happen?”

Ilya looked over at her, opened his mouth as if to say something, and then closed it.

“Mm, no. Everything is fine.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.” She paused and gave him a little smile, poking him with her toe, “soo are we going to fuck?”

Ilya looked directly in her eyes then, something crossed his face, and it wasn’t exactly seductive.

“I want to fuck Shane Hollander.”

“What?” Svetlana’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck is even happening right now. Tell me everything.”

Ilya recounted his journey of two and a half years of frustrating failures to get with Shane, while Svetlana sat speechless.

“Okay. So what you are telling me, is that you’ve been wanting to hook up with him since championships in 2008.”

“Yes. Well, I might have wanted to before that, but my actual planning for how to start hooking up began at our first junior championships.”

“Two and a half years ago.”

“Yes.” Ilya sounded exasperated at being reminded just how long he has failed at fucking Shane Hollander.

“Okay. And so you have invited him to your room on two separate occasions—”

“The first time was in his room, but yes.”

“—His room, okay. And the first time you were stuck with his mother in an elevator. And then Shane never answered his door.”

“Yes, it was humiliating.”

Svetlana rolled her eyes, poor beautiful Ilya, having to put actual effort into getting laid instead of people just apparating into his bed. Not that she ever had problems in that area..

“And then the second time, he freaked out because Scott Hunter confronted him.”

“Yes, that motherfucking crypt keeper, pile of dust—”

“—Anywayy, as I was saying. He freaked out, you opened your door and he was gone.”

“Yes, yes, yes. I was there, I know what happened.”

“I am just trying to get the timeline right.” Svetlana paused, and looked more seriously at Ilya. “You have never talked to me about men before. I mean, I know—that you know—that I know about Sasha. But we’ve never once spoken about it.”

Ilya was silent, not meeting her eyes.

“Ilyushenka.” She said in a whisper, “what is happening? Is this just a crush? An obsession?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know and it is driving me crazy, Sveta.” Ilya groaned and rubbed his eyes aggressively.

“If I just get to kiss him, to feel him, to maybe even get to be inside him. I will be able to get it out of my system. I don’t know why I cannot stop thinking about him. He is so boring, and so plain, and so annoying—”

“And so gorgeous, and talented, and strong, and the only player who can keep up with you.” Svetlana grinned and spoke in a sing songy voice, “and you liiiiike him, don’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Ilyusha has a crush.”

“Stop.”

“Hollander and Rozanov, sitting in a tree—”

“Sveta I swear to god I will leave my own apartment and stay in a hotel room tonight.”

“Fine.” Svetlana stuck her tongue out and blew it at Ilya. “No fun.” She became more serious again. “So what is the plan then?”

“There is no plan. It’s over, I have failed twice, and I do not fail..I have never failed. It just isn’t meant to happen for us. I have to let it go.”

“Uh huh. Ilyusha you have never once in your life just ‘let something go.’ You will figure something out.”

Ilya huffed out a breath. “Maybe. Maybe.”

“When do you next see him?”

“MLH awards. Next week.”

“This is perfect!”

“Perfect how? There will be a million people there.”

“Yes, but no one will care if rivals are seen next to each other. It will even be expected. You can get him alone. Exchange phone numbers so that you can end this ridiculous game of cat and mouse.”

“Maybe..okay. Yes, this is a good plan.”

“You should know by now that I am always right.”

“Of course.” Ilya responded with a smile.

Summer, 2011 | MLH Awards

—Shane—

He had been brainstorming this for months now. The MLH awards was Shane’s last opportunity to get time alone with Ilya before he would have to wait until next season. Their last two attempts were thwarted, this time he would not fail again. It was his turn to initiate, Ilya had asked him to hook up twice, and twice it was ruined.

A semblance of a plan was forming in his mind. He knew that Ilya was a smoker—well, he assumed that he still was. Smokers usually were addicted or something right? Shane wouldn’t know. His only addictions were hockey and jerking off to memories of Ilya naked in the showers after the CCM photoshoot.

He could safely assume that Ilya would escape to have a cigarette at some point in the night. So all Shane had to do was to watch for him leaving and then follow him. And then..kiss him? Suck his dick? Let Ilya fuck him against a wall?

Well, that could all be figured out in the moment.

It’s all Shane had thought about for the past few days. And now the time had come. He was dressed in a tux and standing in front of a mirror fussing with his hair. He was somehow more nervous about trying to meet up with Ilya than he was about the actual awards. He didn’t linger on that thought for long.

He gave himself one final glance. Good enough. Hopefully fuckable.

“And Rookie of the Year goes to….Shane Hollander!! Hollander joined the Montreal Metros this year and had an incredible season. Setting a new record for the most hat tricks in a single season by a rookie. Hollander helped get the Metros to the cup finals this year. Congratulations, Shane Hollander!”

The words floated in the air around Shane. He was so happy. His parents were beaming at him with teary eyes.

He did it. He fucking did it.

Shane went onstage to accept the award, holding it high when instructed and smiled for the photos. 

It was hard to see with all of the flashing lights, but Shane spotted him immediately. Ilya Rozanov, looking gorgeous in a tailored suit—was clapping enthusiastically with a grin on his face. He winked—he fucking winked—at Shane. 

He hoped that people assumed the pink on his face was from the warm room.

An hour later, Shane found himself mingling with a mix of players, executives, parents of players, and an odd assortment of celebrity-status athletes from other sports.

He was nursing a ginger ale when he saw Ilya move through the room, walking as if on a mission in the direction of a back exit.

Now was the time. This was it, this was his moment. 

He pivoted on his heel and rushed to follow.

In his hurry, he didn’t see Scott Hunter trying to flag him down at the bar.

Shane went out the same exit that he saw Ilya disappear into. He was immediately confused. The exit didn’t lead outside, it opened into a dark stairwell. Before he could overthink it, Shane ascended the stairs, taking them two at a time. He reached the next floor and tried the door. Locked. He did this twice more, new floor, new locked door. Until finally, on his third attempt—the door flung open. A gush of cold air hit his face. He had opened the door to the rooftop. 

Shane took a few steps forward, first looking to the left, and then turning to his right. 

There he was. Standing close to the railing at the far end of the rooftop. Smoking a cigarette. Looking like fucking James Bond.

Ilya turned around and looked directly at him. 

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Big night for you.”

“Um, yeah. Felt nice to win.”

“Mm, yes I know.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yes. I think so, maybe.”

Ilya put out his cigarette and walked slowly toward him. Shane could feel his heart beating though his ear drums. His body had gone still. His breath became shallow and stunted.

Ilya stood right in front of Shane, and then swerved gracefully around him toward the door. Was he going to leave? Shane felt himself panicking now.

But Ilya didn’t leave. He reached down and turned the lock on the door. Apparently it could be locked from the outside. Could he have known that already? How could he possibly have..

Shane didn’t get time to finish that thought before Ilya spoke again, this time commanding.

“Follow me.”

He didn’t even think, his body did that for him. He stayed close behind Ilya as he was led across the rooftop and behind a large wall that blocked them off from the open space.

The air was warmer, because they were shielded from the wind and a softly humming vent was leaking warm air.

“No cameras here.” Ilya said, motioning upward.

Shane gulped at the possible meaning behind those words. “Do you want to..talk?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

“Mm, not really.”

Ilya moved slowly toward him, pushing Shane gently into the wall, completely boxing him in.

Shane’s pulse spiked, his eyes went to Ilya’s plush lips and back to look into the blue eyes turned dark with desire. Ilya leaned in, and paused. As if waiting to see if Shane would say no. When Shane leaned in slightly, Ilya kissed him.

At first it was soft, and it felt electric the moment their lips touched. And then Ilya opened his mouth a bit wider, pushing his tongue slightly past Shane’s lips. Shane was already seeing stars, his mind was going blank. His body was reacting. He couldn’t tell if the moans he was hearing were his or Ilya’s. Or both.

Without thinking, he reached up to unbutton Ilya’s suit jacket, it opened and revealed a tightly fitted button up. His hands made quick work of the top few buttons, and Shane dipped his head to kiss down the length of Ilya’s neck and across his broad chest. Ilya’s chest was heaving, he was moaning Shane’s name softly. “Fuck, Shane.”

Ilya pulled him back up by the chin, going in for a deeper, more demanding kiss. Their tongues danced across each other’s lips and swept across each other as they both fought to taste more. To take more. Both moaning as quietly as they could, their hands exploring, unbuttoning. Neither of them dared to take off any clothing—even with a locked door it was too risky. But somehow, their clothes being almost entirely on was even more of a turn on. It was urgent, desperate, both soaking in whatever skin they had access to. 

Shane reached down and unzipped Ilya’s slacks, moving his right hand inside, skirting past his briefs to grasp his hard cock. 

He had never had this before. He owned a well-loved purple dildo that he used to take the edge off, and to practice giving blow jobs..just in case this moment would ever come.

And now it was here, this was the moment. And Ilya’s warm hard cock felt all too real in his hand. 

He realized that he hadn’t started moving his hand, Ilya kept kissing his neck, his chin, the sides of his face—seemingly unphased by the fact that Shane was standing there holding his cock. As if that was just a normal event.

But the moan that escaped him when Shane tightened his grip and began moving his hand up and down told him that this was very much not a normal event for Ilya.

“Fuck, Hollander.” Ilya’s hand shifted to the wall behind Shane, his knees had gone weak. His breath was shaken and his mouth pursed in a tight circle.

Shane quickly gained confidence and started experimenting, testing out what made Ilya react. He swiped his thumb across the sensitive head to catch the wetness gathering there and Ilya gasped. Noted. Shane repeated that motion with every stroke and Ilya began to tremble and curse in a mix of English and Russian.

Ilya then suddenly pulled Shane’s arm up. “Stop, stop.”

Shane’s heart dropped. “Was that..not good?”

“No, opposite. Too much, too good.”

Shane smiled proudly.

Ilya paused for a moment to catch his breath. He looked at Shane with curiosity.

“Have you ever been with a man?”

“No..have you?”

“Ah..yes. With my coach’s son. Back in Russia. But it was nothing serious. Nothing like you.”

Shane blushed at the words, nothing like you. Did that mean that Ilya thought that this was something serious? His heart swooped at the thought.

“You like this.” Ilya said more like a statement than a question.

“Like what?”

“When I say that this is something serious.”

How did he read that so quickly, was Shane really that obvious? He blushed and looked away. Ilya gently grabbed his chin and brought his face up to meet Ilya’s eyes.

“I like it too.” And then he leaned in again, kissing Shane once before dropping to his knees.

“Holy shit.” Were Shane’s last words before Ilya took him into his mouth.

Fuck fuck fuck. Shane’s hips jerked forward, but Ilya had pinned him to the wall with his left hand, as he used his right to guide Shane’s cock deep into his throat. Sucking in his cheeks and swirling his tongue over the head with each upward motion. Shane’s head slammed back against the wall and his legs started to tremble. He had no idea what sounds were coming out of his mouth, or if he was saying any coherent words. Tension coiled tightly in his lower half and—“Ilya, you have to..fuck..you have to get off I’m going to..fuck..I can’t stop—“

Ilya hummed around him and sucked him deeper, until Shane felt his cock hit the back of Ilya’s throat. 

Shane came with a loud moan, completely forgetting where they were. His body nearly doubled over, but Ilya held him in place with his strong arm, while he continued to bob his head, swallowing everything—and was moaning while he did it. It was all too much. Shane couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

Ilya gently tucked Shane back into his pants, his zipper pulled up and his button secured. Ilya looked up at Shane, still on his knees. A reverent expression was on his face. “Was good?”

Shane laughed, he actually laughed. He smiled warmly at Ilya. “Holy fucking shit.”

Ilya stood and grinned. He kissed Shane, slower this time, with less urgency.

Shane spun them around, pinning Ilya to the wall in a reversal of their positions. Ilya’s mouth gaped and he gasped a little when he said what the—

It was finally Shane’s turn, he was about to taste Ilya, to feel him, to undo him. He dropped to his knees and looked up to meet Ilya’s eyes—which were wide and glossy. He mouth gaped open as his breath rapidly inhaled inward and outwards, a motion reflected in his heaving chest.

Shane swirled his tongue over the head a few times, hoping for—fuck, Shane—he looked up, smirking a little at Ilya before taking him as far into his mouth as he could.

Shane had been practicing this on his dildo..just in case. He was grateful for that smart thinking, because Ilya was big. And hard. And tasted incredible. Shane couldn’t help moaning loudly with Ilya still deep inside of his mouth, the vibration made Ilya gasp.

He started moving his head, twisting his right hand around the base to follow the motion of his mouth. At each upstroke, he would swirl his tongue over the sensitive head, eliciting an exhilarating moan—each more guttural than the last. Ilya was becoming undone, gasping, moaning, knees buckling, saying words in Russian that Shane didn’t understand. It was so fucking hot.

Ilya moved his hands down to rest in Shane’s hair, not controlling, but caressing. He moaned Shane’s name like a prayer, switching between fuck, Hollander and yes just like that Shane.

It was thrilling, it was everything that Shane had imagined and yet so much more than he ever hoped it would be.

When Ilya began softly jutting his hips forward, chasing release, Shane moved even quicker—determined to hear what Ilya sounded like when he came in Shane’s mouth.

Ilya grabbed his head slightly, motioning to pull off. “Shane, off, I’m going to—“

Shane shook his head as he raised his left hand to stop Ilya’s tugging—he murmured something that he hoped sounded like “uh uh.”

He was going to finish him, and taste him, and finally feel what he had been chasing for almost three years.

Ilya’s head slammed back, which made Shane pop off, he kept stroking him with his hand—

“Look at me.”

Their eyes locked, Shane looking up and Ilya looking down—looking wrecked.

Shane licked a stripe from the base to the tip before taking Ilya’s cock fully into his mouth—the head hitting the back of his throat. Ilya gasped, and then moaned—coming while doubled over, grasping for balance by placing his hands on Shane’s shoulders. He never once stopped looking at Shane, as he swallowed around his cock.

Ilya finally slammed his head back onto the wall, his whole body slack as Shane held him steady.

“Fuck, Hollander.”

Shane just grinned up at him, overwhelmed by what had just happened.

On the fucking rooftop above the MLH awards.

Holy fucking shit.

—Ilya—

Fuck. Did they really just suck each other's dicks on a roof in Vegas? The realization alone made him laugh.

Shane started laughing too, when they looked at each other they both laughed harder, doubling over into each other. 

They were standing next to each other, both with their backs to the wall. Collars crumpled, suit jackets wrinkled, shirts unbuttoned, lips red from kissing, hair messy—they looked positively undone—like two men who just had sex on a rooftop.

Ilya spoke first.

“Was good?”

Shane laughed again.

“Yeah, was good. It was..fuck..it was different than I imagined.”

“What, you didn’t think you’d come so fast?”

“Fuck off. You did too.”

Ilya just laughed, Shane’s quick return pleased him. Then he spun his body to pin Shane against the wall again. He leaned in to kiss him, softly, without any urgency. Shane’s lips were plush and fit perfectly with Ilya’s own. He made these gentle moans when Ilya kissed him that he wished he could pull his phone out and record. He could put very good use to that recording on his nights alone in Russia this summer. Shane’s body felt warm and firm under his hands. He wished that he could strip him completely and stripe his tongue across every inch. Later. Next time. His hands found the back of Shane’s neck where he gripped tightly, angling his head to the left to allow for a deeper kiss.

When he finally pulled away, Shane’s body followed as he made a disappointed sound. It made Ilya’s stomach swoop. 

“We need to go back to party.” Ilya said softly.

Shane groaned, tilting his head to rest on Ilya’s shoulder. “We just got here.”

Ilya smiled, “I think we have been here for half hour now.” When Shane continued to look put out, he spoke again.

“Give me your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yes. You have phone?”

“Yes.”

“Give.”

Shane pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. Ilya took it and opened the contacts app. He added himself in Shane’s phone as “Lily” and sent himself a text. He took his own phone out and saved Shane’s number. He then typed out his first-ever text to Shane Hollander.

Shane looked down at his phone when he felt it buzz, and his face relaxed into a knowing grin.

“What’s my name going to be?”

“Jane.”

Lily:

See you next season ;)

xx Lily

Chapter End Notes

Ahhhh, FINALLY Lily and Jane have their moment!!! I wanted to note why I am already having Ilya and Shane use first names. Where this was a huge—basically THE peak moment in the series—I am going for a different narrative. Don't worry, a big angsty "I can't do this" scene will come later, just much later in their story.

Chapter 7: Lily and Jane

Summer, 2011 | Moscow / Ottawa

Lily:

Having a boring summer?

Jane:

No. I am supervising the build of my cottage. And doing ad shoots. I am very busy.

Lily:

Yes, as I thought. Boring.

Jane:

Fuck off.

Lily:

😎

Lily:

Are you thinking about me?

Jane:

Isn’t it like 3am for you?

Lily:

Yes. I’m at club.

*Photo: overhead selfie of Ilya taking a shot. His curly hair messy, his face glowing pink, his mouth open suggestively at the rim of the glass*

Jane:

You are very sweaty.

Lily:

You think it’s hot.

Jane:

No comment.

Lily:

You didn’t answer my question.

Jane:

Yes.

Lily:

Yes, what.

Jane:

Fine, fuck. I am thinking about you.

Lily:

😏

Jane:

Fuck off.

Lily:

Are you touching yourself?

Jane:

No.

…

Maybe.

Lily:

Send photo.

Jane:

Hell no.

Lily:

Come on. Just one. Can be under covers.

Jane:

No.

Lily:

Boooorrrriiingggg

*Photo: Ilya in a dimly lit bathroom standing in front of a mirror. His torso is almost bare in a half unbuttoned transparent shirt. One hand was holding his phone, the other hand was grabbing his crotch. His face was out of frame.*

Jane:

Fuck.

Lily:

You like it?

Jane:

God. Yes.

Lily:

Are you close?

…

Jane:

Yes.

Ilya:

Show me.

Jane:

No.

Lily:

*Photo: Ilya was now standing in a private stall, his pants were unbuttoned and his hard cock was in his hand.*

Jane:

Fuck.

Lily:

Come for me. Tell me when you are finished.

…

…

…

Jane:

Fuck. Why was that so hot?

Lily:

😈

Jane:

typing…

…

typing

…

typing…

Lily:

Are you writing sonnet?

Jane:

Fuck off.

Lily:

You want to know if I jerked off in a dirty club bathroom thinking about you coming while staring at a picture of my dick?

…

Yes. Yes I did.

Jane:

Did you see Price was traded again?

Lily:

Yes. Sucks. Buffalo is terrible. Boring city.

Jane:

Yeah, and their team sucks too.

Lily:

💀

Lily:

How is cottage build going?

Jane:

*Video: a large structure, half built. Ground to roof window panes were still covered in protective film. Piles of lumber were stacked high on each side. A large machine was moving blocks of concrete down the road towards the cottage. The video panned 180° to show gorgeous scenery of tall trees, a clear blue sky, and a long dock leading out to a sparkling lake.*

Lily:

Wow. This is not cottage. In Russia, cottage is for babushkas who make children yellow candies in the winter.

This is mansion.

Jane:

Cottages in Canada are just houses on the lake. They can be any size.

Lily:

Mmhm.

Jane:

I am building a small skating rink in an open space, about half a mile away. With a full gym.

Lily:

Millionaire behavior.

Jane:

Who taught you that phrase?

Lily:

Marlow.

Jane:

It is an investment.

Lily:

In what?

Jane:

My happiness.

…

Maybe you could visit sometime.

Lily:

Yes. I would like that very much.

Jane:

When are you back from Russia?

Lily:

Soon, why?

Jane:

How many days will you have free before pre-season practice starts?

Lily:

Shane. Are you asking if we can meet up before season starts?

...

*Screenshot: Ilya’s flight schedule*

Come to Boston. For weekend before.

Jane:

Okay, yes.

Lily:

I will make it worth your time. Especially since it will be your last chance.

Jane:

Last chance for what?

Lily:

To feel happy before I start dominating you on the ice.

Jane:

🙄

Chapter 8: Ilya Goes to Whole Foods

Fall, 2011 | Boston

—Ilya—

Ilya was at Whole Foods. He had never once stepped foot into a Whole Foods. He didn't even know this store existed until he asked Marlow where he could buy boring bland health foods, like extra firm tofu and high protein cottage cheese. He was confused from the moment he walked in.

Why were there so many types of beans? He didn’t cook much, but in Russia he remembered there mostly being just brown or white. What the hell is a black turtle bean? Everyone in the store was wearing a different shade of beige and they were all carrying reusable bags with slogans like There’s No Heaven for Meat Eaters and The Fountain of Youth is Filled with Sustainably Sourced Water.

The first slogan made him laugh as he added five packs of ground beef to his cart, but the second had too many complicated American-sounding concepts and he didn’t get the joke. He thought maybe Shane could’ve explained it to him. Imagining it made him smile in front of a giant pile of extraordinarily large carrots.

Shane's upcoming visit was the reason why Ilya had spent the past fifteen minutes picking out the crispiest cucumbers he could find, at this boring grocery store full of stinky men who had their greasy long hair tied up in messy buns. Ilya had no problems with long hair on men, it could be hot, but why didn't they wash their hair? Was it related to that sustainable water thing?

He had planned the perfect weekend. Unfortunately, they couldn’t leave Ilya’s house at all, and so the challenge was thinking of enough things to do to keep Shane from getting bored and having time to freak out.

The first activity (scheduled for right after they had incredible sex the moment Shane walked through his front door) was to make him something to eat. Shane could sit on a bar stool at the counter and watch him cook. Ilya had guessed based on their daily texting over the summer that Shane would enjoy this for two key reasons.

First, he can boss Ilya around and tell him all of the things he can and can’t eat. He was very bossy.

Second, Ilya would have handed him a cold ginger ale that Shane could fidget with. He seemed very fidgety, with all of his typing and deleting.

Ilya had his own secret reason: it would give him a chance to show off how much he can take care of Shane, without it being too obvious.

What he couldn’t decide was what to make for Shane. Saying that Ilya could cook was a huge overstatement. He actually never made much food for himself at all.

“The Boston Raiders’ management team has a group of designated dietitians that works with local chefs to deliver perfectly formulated meal plans straight to your door.”

That is what they sent out in an email to the whole team at the beginning of last year.

Sometimes (a lot of times) he would go off of the boring meal plan and make simple comfort foods.

But, those recipes probably wouldn’t be very helpful during Shane’s visit. Ilya figured that Shane wouldn’t eat grilled cheese made with mac n cheese as the filling—or alcohol infused rice krispy treats—and he guessed that eating ice cream out of the carton would be a strong no.

He ended up deciding on tuna melts. Not the sexiest of foods, but he was convinced that Shane would be satisfied with them. Ilya had a script prepared in case he had any questions—40 grams of protein in the tuna, 5 grams of fiber in the high-fiber bread he found next to the disgusting looking gluten free shit, and lots of micronutrients in the mix of cucumbers and carrots on the side.

Ilya would be eating potato chips on the side instead of vegetables, which Shane would scold him for.

Another one of his favorite things to do.

Ilya’s second planned activity was watching hockey. This sounded dumb to him, but it was Svetlana who convinced him in the end.

“Hockey is still your main thing in common. It will allow you guys to start talking, break the ice, in a comfortable way. No pressure. You can listen to all of his opinions about the plays, ask him what he would do differently. Sit close to him, make him feel at home.”

The third activity was working out, which they both had to do for hours each day to prepare for the season start next week. Ilya had an incredible home gym with a built in sound system, dimmable lighting, and a newly-added yoga section.

If Shane asked about that last thing, he planned on vaguely answering with an excuse about his coach demanding more at-home flexibility training. But really it was because he remembered Shane going on and on about the yoga studio he planned to add on to the gym at his cottage.

No other planned activities seemed necessary when Ilya hoped they would spend at least 60% of their time in his bed, or on the couch, or in the shower, or on the kitchen counter, or on the….

He continued to think of all of the places he could have sex with Shane as he was in the check out line.

A question kept popping in his head every hour during the past few days leading up to Shane’s arrival. Would Shane let him..would they fuck? Like, really fuck?

He had been too nervous to broach the subject during any of their sexting sessions (or the one time they attempted phone sex but Shane got nervous and pretended that the call dropped). He thought that it’d be a conversation best had in person.

Ideally after a mind-blowing blow job and very satisfying tuna melt.

So yes, Ilya had a plan. He had plans for his plans.

He was ready to host Shane Hollander for an entire weekend.

At his house.

And Shane’s flight was landing at 8:12am tomorrow morning.

Ilya couldn’t wait.

Chapter 9: Completely Alone, Together

Chapter Notes

Russian translations in end notes <3

—Shane—

Shane was a ball of nerves. Hockey is a lot less of a big deal in the United States, compared to what he was used to in Canada—but he was still anxious about being recognized. He wore non-branded and loose-fitting clothing, a ball cap, and sunglasses.

He was pretty sure he blended into the crowd.

There were no issues on the flight, the journey from Montreal to Boston is fairly short and uneventful. When they deplaned, he took some deep grounding breaths.

How did they go from spending over two years failing to get to each other—to now spending a weekend with each other? Just two months after having sex for the first time?

He thought that maybe Jackie’s friend Alyssa had said something about a term for this, during a dinner party at the Pike’s.

“It’s called u-hauling, Shane. It's notorious in the lesbian community. It’s when a couple moves in with each other after like three dates, get married after a year, and then have babies!”

Alyssa was a very vibrant woman with short stylish hair and tattoo sleeves. Shane was very intimidated by her, but also inspired. She seemed so free and comfortable in her identity and body.

One day, he had thought to himself, maybe I will be free like her.

This memory played out in his mind as he rolled his small carry on out into the parking garage.

Shane had demanded that Ilya bring his least flashy car and park in an empty floor of the garage.

Jane:

What floor are you on?

Lily:

14th

Hiding.

Like little scared girl driving ugly car.

Jane:

You’ll live.

Lily:

😡

You are cramping my style. And yes, Marlow taught me this.

Shane exited the elevator onto the 14th floor. He had to concede to Ilya, it was a little creepy up here.

There was nothing but a few overfilled dumpsters and a massive pile of what looked like wooden crates. He still looked left and right, must’ve just been by habit.

He saw the car right away and snorted, shaking his head with laughter.

Ilya was driving a beat up old truck, with paint peeling off the sides.

There was gardening equipment in the back, and it had a bumper sticker placed crookedly on the back that read if you’re going to ride my ass, at least buy me a drink first.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

Ilya grinned, “You like it?”

“It’s fucking ridiculous. Somehow it is even more conspicuous that you are driving this than if you came in your flashy sports car.”

Ilya’s grin grew even wider and more self-satisfied.

“Where did you even get this?”

“I got it from Marlow’s friend. He owns gardening business. I asked Marlow where I could borrow a very boring car for the weekend.”

Shane’s eyes rolled so far back in his eyes that it hurt just a little bit. 

“And you don’t own a single car that won’t get attention?”

“Shane. Don’t ask crazy questions, I will get worried I invited insane person to my house.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

During this verbal volley, Ilya had exited the truck, put Shane’s bag in the back seat, and grabbed him close to his body so that they were flush against each other.

Shane decided to take on Ilya’s challenge, but first, he took a 360° look around the floor to confirm no one else had decided to pick up their secret lover. When he was satisfied with his findings, he leaned in until he could feel Ilya’s warm breath fluttering onto his lips.

Ilya looked down at Shane’s mouth and then back into his eyes. His grip on Shane’s waist tightened, and his tongue stuck out slightly to swipe across his bottom lip in anticipation.

“Mm, and how would I do that?”

“You are teasing me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Shane smirked and cocked his head back a little.

Ilya grunted and couldn’t hold back any longer, he reached up to grasp Shane’s chin and pull their mouths together.

It felt incredible to kiss Ilya again, Shane had missed it. He had only had it once and it had already become something to long for. He had been daydreaming about what it would feel like to have Ilya’s soft yet demanding lips pressed against his own. His tongue teasing, his teeth biting.

Shane moaned and leaned further into Ilya, jutting their hips together.

Then he pulled back, panting a little, but managed to give Ilya a pointed look, followed by a self-satisfied smile.

“You’re pretty quiet now.”

Ilya opened his mouth as if to retort, but was seemingly too shocked by Shane’s confidence to get any words out.

“Get in.” Ilya had to clear his throat because the words croaked out on the first try. “Get in the car.”

“It’s a truck.”

“I swear to fucking—”

Shane laughed and got into the passenger seat of the car.

Ilya pulled the truck into a long driveway. The outside of his home was modern, but warm. It was tall, two stories high, with large mature eastern white pine trees in the front.

The driveway had an electric gate that Ilya punched a code into and it opened into a large covered garage that could fit at least four vehicles.

Inside, two sports cars were parked next to each other—a sleek black Mercedes and a neon orange Lamborghini.

“Wow.”

“Black is for formal events and orange is for driving very fast.”

“I know car brands, Ilya.” Shane responded with exasperation. “And even if I didn’t, I think that is pretty obvious.”

“Some of us build fancy mansions in the woods, and some of us buy cars that aren’t for grandpas going fishing during retirement.”

“I told you, Jeeps are good cars, good in the—”

“In the snow, yes, you told me this.” Ilya gave him a teasing smile. “Do you want to complain more about my impressive cars, or do you want to go fuck now.”

“The second thing. Now.”

Ilya grabbed Shane’s suitcase and started walking towards the back entrance of his home.

When Shane followed him inside, he couldn’t resist snooping a little. He took in the space. Vaulted ceilings, a fireplace that sat in between the living room and kitchen that must have been at least three meters long.

Everything was modern, clean, but not lifeless. There was art on the walls and personality in his furniture choices. It looked actually lived in, and not like the typical sterile house of a millionaire.

“Wow. Did you have this place built?”

“Mm. Mr. Real Estate..Mr. Business Man.” He said it with a smirk and motioned his arms up and down, teasing Shane.

“Shut up. I was just asking.”

“You ask too many questions.”

“Sorry.”

“No, is okay.”

“No, I meant I’m sorry that you’re about to really regret being a dick.” Shane walked over to Ilya and pulled him into a kiss. Ilya groaned and said “fucking finally.”

He lifted Shane easily onto the kitchen island. Shane was too far gone to realize that he was wearing clothes that had been on an airplane for two hours. Instead of thinking about germs, he hooked his legs around Ilya’s waist and pulled him closer.

Ilya tugged at the bottom of Shane’s hoodie, pulling it and Shane’s t-shirt off in one motion. “Fuck,” he moaned into Shanes neck as he kissed and bit his way down his torso. He took Shane’s nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.

Shane arched into it, throwing his head back and moaned loudly. “Fuck, Rozanov.”

Ilya responded by biting it softly and then moving to the other nipple to mirror his actions, keeping a thumb on Shane’s unoccupied pec, swiping roughly over the now-tender peak.

Shane wasn’t even getting his dick touched and he was melting, becoming completely undone. He moaned and arched his back, his chest was heaving. 

“Ilya, please. Please. Bed, couch, I don’t fucking care. Take me.” Shane’s voice was already thick, his eyes were half closed and his breath was stuttering in and out of his open mouth.

His cock was hard and pressing a wet spot into his briefs. He subconsciously raised his hips, seeking out any form of relief.

Ilya lifted Shane off of the island, walked him over to the couch, and tossed him down. As if he weighed nothing. It was really fucking hot.

He pulled off his own shirt, his pants, and then his briefs. Standing in front of Shane fully and unabashedly naked. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Shane had seen Ilya naked and hard in the showers, but his eyes were blurred with water and his mind was panicked with both the risk of getting caught and the utter shocking realization that his supposed rival wanted to fuck him. There was a lot going on at the time.

Now, they were in Ilya’s home. In complete privacy. With a whole weekend in front of them.

And Ilya was standing in front of him, his body rippling with each motion. A thick muscle on either side of his abs created a v-shape that looked like an arrow pointing straight down to his now fully hard cock. Shane was just now realizing, in the bright daylight, just how large Ilya was. 

“You are staring.”

“Um, yeah. Have you fucking seen yourself lately?”

Ilya laughed, surprised by the blatant compliment. He thought that Ilya must be used to getting ogled by now. Or, Shane dared to hope, did it matter more because it was him doing the looking.

“Come here.” He said.

“No, not fair. Take off your pants. I want to see you.”

“Why don’t you take them off yourself.”

“I want show.”

Shane rolled his eyes, but lifted his hips and slid off his pants and briefs. Leaving him fully naked, with the exception of his socks. Which he kept on.

Because he was kind of cold. And they somehow made him feel less exposed as Ilya raked his eyes up and down Shane’s body. “Blyad', ty prekrasna. Shane, you are..fuck.”

“Okay?” Shane felt a little self conscious. He wanted Ilya to like what he saw, now that he had it all, in the open, no darkness to hide behind.

“Da. Fucking yes.” Ilya pounced on top of Shane, surprising him and making him laugh. Some of the tension leaving his body.

Ilya leaned down and kissed him again, more urgently this time. He reached down with his right hand to stroke Shane, up and down, swiping his thumb over the head to use the wetness found there to create frictionless movements.

“Fuck….Shit…Mm……..Ilya….fuck—”

“Get on your stomach.” Ilya patted Shane on his side. “On your stomach.”

Shane rotated, hesitantly. What was about to happen, was Ilya really going to—

“Have you ever?”

Shane shook his head side to side, panicking slightly. He had never. Not with a person. He had successfully done it many times with his dildo, he loved it.

He always wondered what it would feel like with the real thing. He fantasized about Ilya’s cock inside him nearly every night while jerking off.

But to have it offered to him so casually—as if Ilya was asking Shane if he had ever eaten a strawberry before—was jarring, to say the least.

“You are scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“No, is okay.” The soft understanding in Ilya’s voice was somehow annoying instead of comforting. Shane wasn’t a pathetic virgin or anything. Well, he was in this aspect, but that’s it.

“Shut up. I have…a thing.”

“A thing.”

Shane sighed, “a dildo.”

Ilya paused, “what...color?”

“Fuck off.”

“Is big?”

“Oh my god. Fuck off.” But Shane was laughing now. He rolled over to face Ilya, grabbing his large bicep and gazing up at him, his heart bared open for him.

“Okay, so we go slow. Maybe next time.”

Shane swallowed. “Yeah, maybe next time.” His voice cracked in the middle of his response.

Ilya dipped down to pull Shane into another deep kiss. He bit Shane’s lower lip—hard, eliciting a moan, “fff..mm..Ilya..”

Shane was already losing himself in the sensation of Ilya’s soft lips pressed against his own, the teasing tongue darting in circles, and the fluttering breaths of the man on top of him.

He bucked his hips up with a groan. Ilya grinned, “mm, you need something?” He lazily licked and bit down Shane’s neck, using his left hand to squeeze and pull at Shane’s nipples.

“Fuck, fuck..fucking touch me.” Shane groaned. 

“Ahh, like this?” Ilya feathered his fingers across Shane’s stomach and thighs, avoiding the area that he so desperately wanted attention. 

“Ilya..fuck…ff..just..” Shane grabbed Ilya’s wandering hand, brought it to his mouth and licked a wet stripe up the middle. Ilya looked at him shocked out of his teasing tone. “Fucking touch me or I will do it myself.”

Ilya’s eyes blew dark, “fuck, Shane..Ty prosto pizdets kakoy goryachiy…you are..fuck..” He obeyed Shane’s order and reached down to stroke Shane’s hard cock. 

“Fffuck..finally..fuck, Ilya..don’t stop.” Ilya increased his pace, using his left hand to stroke Shane’s cock, and his right to hold Shane’s jaw and pull him in for deep and urgent kisses. They moaned into each other’s mouths, caught up in the pleasure of having every part of each other to explore.

Shane started wildly bucking his hips upward, Ilya inhaled sharply and groaned, “yes, krasivyy..fuck my hand..come..konchi dlya menya..come for me..”

“FffuuucK..mmMmm..oh..god..fuck fuck fuck..” Shane came, his come striping Ilya’s hand and his own stomach. His chest was stuttering out harsh breaths. “Fuck..fuck.” His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed.

When he came down, he opened his eyes and saw Ilya staring at him with wonder. “Shane, you are freak.”

“Shut up.”

“No, you are. Wow. How did I get so lucky. You are like horny sex god.”

“Shut up.” Shane laughed and shoved Ilya’s body enough to get his arms around his torso and aggressively swing himself on top. 

Ilya gaped at him, “see? Like a sex machine.”

Shane leaned down to kiss him before he could say anything else sassy about how desperate Shane is for his cock. He kissed his way down Ilya’s body, sucking hard on his nipples, nibbling and biting them until Ilya was moaning and arching his back. Shane then moved his mouth down and licked a firm stripe up Ilya’s cock. He had been dreaming of this. Of the taste, the vein that ran up the shaft, the sensitive head that when Shane sucked hard on it, Ilya moaned filthily. 

Shane hollowed his cheeks and moved his mouth up and down, swirling his tongue in teasing motions at the head. Occasionally popping his mouth off to kiss and bite at Ilya’s thighs while he stroked him with his hand. An incoherent mix of Russian and English words. “Blyad', fuck', ty menya ub'yosh.' Ty takaya…mmmMm…fuck…okhuyenno seksual'naya…fffucCCK.. ya segodnya zhe umru. You will kill me..ff…mmmm..”

“I think it’s time for you to come for me..” Shane had tilted his head up to take in the sight above him. Ilya’s neck was flushed and strained, his nipples were pink and raised from Shane’s earlier torture, his arms were thrown up above him, grasping to the arm of the couch. Shane kept one hand on Ilya’s cock, using his thumb and forefinger to create a circle for Ilya to fuck up into.

“Da…yes..ffuck..mmake me..” 

Shane grinned and took Ilya’s length fully into his mouth, gagging when the head hit the back of his throat. He moaned around it, reveling in the feeling of the hardness, the taste of Ilya. He reached one hand up to pinch Ilya’s nipples mercilessly, and the other hand down to stroke the tender skin below his cock.

“FFffffuuckkkkShanneMmmMmfucckk..” Ilya’s hips jutted upward one last time before he was shooting his finish deep into Shane’s throat. Shane didn’t let him pull out until he had swallowed around him, moaning as he felt Ilya’s body shuddering under him.

After catching their breath, they laid next to each other, comically squished together even though the couch was quite large. They lazily kissed each other, relishing the calm of the moment. Ilya traced circles around Shane’s nipples, giving him goose bumps all over. He shivered but didn’t ask Ilya to stop.

He was happy. He was so fucking happy.

Chapter End Notes

Ty prosto pizdets kakoy goryachiy. = you are so fucking hot

Krasivyy = beautiful

Konchi dlya menya. = come for me

Blyad', blyad', ty menya ub'yosh'! Ty takaya okhuyenno seksual'naya — ya segodnya zhe umru. = Fuck, fuck, you will kill me, you are so fucking sexy, I will die tonight

Da = yes

Chapter 10: You Like Tuna Melt?

Chapter Notes

—Ilya—

“You want to make me a..tuna melt?”

“Yes. Is high in protein and fiber, 40 grams.”

“40 grams of fiber will probably kill you.”

“Ah, no, that is the protein. From tuna.”

“That sounds like a lot of tuna.”

Ilya couldn’t stop his grin from spreading ear to ear. This was going exactly like how he’d hoped it would.

Shane was sitting on a kitchen bar stool, wearing Ilya’s clothes, while critiquing Ilya’s every move.

They were a bit oversized on him, the black t-shirt hanging slightly loose around the neck. Ilya kept getting distracted from his task by walking over to lick stripes up and down the exposed skin, making Shane shiver and laugh.

“We will never eat at this pace.” Finally shoving Ilya off of him and banishing him back to the other side of the counter.

“Fine, but after I eat tuna melt, I am taking you upstairs and having your dick as dessert.”

“Gross, Ilya.” But Shane returned his smile, a pink flush beautifully blooming under the smattering of freckles across his cheek bones.

Ilya thought to himself that he would like to one day make Shane sit very still in front of him and let Ilya take a few dozen photos of his freckles to store for lonely nights. When did he become suck a fucking sap?

“Tuna melts will be ready in 30 minutes. Ginger ale cold enough?”

Shane smiled shyly, “yes. Thank you.”

Ilya couldn’t help but be thrilled. Shane seemed to be at ease, almost at home in Ilya’s space.

“Want to watch the game? San Francisco is playing—”

“I know who they are playing.”

“So sassy. Do you ever get tired of knowing everything all of the time?”

“Nope.”

They sat on the couch, Ilya positioned himself close enough that if he widened his knees a little, his left leg bumped into Shane’s.

Eventually, though, he leaned back and subconsciously assumed his normal position. One arm flung across his head and the other placed under the waistband of his pants. Shane glanced over at him every few minutes.

“You are staring again.”

“You are half naked. Your hand is buried under your pants next to your cock. It’s fucking distracting.”

Ilya smirked, “we have about ten minutes left before tuna melts are ready.”

They only ended up needing seven minutes. 

Ilya was coming back to the couch with a box of tissues when the timer went off. 

“I’ll get it.”

“No, no. Sit down.” Ilya handed Shane a tissue and placed the box on the table. He quickly washed his hands before opening the oven to get the melts out. He rubbed his fingers together in excitement as he plated the food.

A tuna melt on each. Chips on his, carrots and cucumbers cut into spears on Shane’s. He opened fresh drinks for both of them, he was drinking a coke.

Shane didn’t like the taste of beer, and he planned on having his tongue in his mouth again very soon.

He added some cut up strawberries in small bowls as a final touch. Fucking sap.

“Thank you.” Shane took his plate and immediately took a carrot and snapped off half of it with his teeth.

Ilya was pleased that he didn’t seem phased at all by the differences between Ilya and Shane’s plates. Ilya hoped that his lack of comment meant that Shane expected Ilya to know what he liked.

They sat in pleasant silence, only the sounds of the game and their chewing ebbed and flowed softly through the air.

“I will win cup this year.” Ilya decided that the silence had gone on long enough, and he wanted to see Shane’s sputtering pink face when he realized what topic he decided to start with.

“Fuck off, it’s mine.”

“Ah, but you have weak goalie this year.”

“Drapeau is perfectly fine. Good enough to keep your goals from going in.”

“Mm, that’s not what my hat trick said in our last game of the season.”

“Pff. Whatever.”

A pause.

“So..” Ilya paused. He was taken aback by the words he almost let slip from his mouth.

So what does this mean. What do you want. Are you seeing other people. I like you. A lot. How can we see each other this year. We only play each other five or six times in a season. That will never be enough. It will never be enough. I want you. I think about you constantly.

He cleared his throat and tried to think of a cover for his hesitation that didn’t make him sound like a psycho. “So, after this. You want to workout? I have a home gym. Is large. With a section for yoga.”

“You do yoga?” Shane seemed to be shocked.

“Ah..yes. Coach is..” Ilya tried to remember what he had decided to say when Shane asked this question. “He is..demanding more at-home flexibility training.”

Shane looked at him incredulously. He opened his mouth as if about to say something, but then he just shook his head and laughed.

“I’d like to see that up close.”

Ilya smirked. “I am European, in Russia men wear these slutty shorts..”

Shane laughed again, bumping his knee against Ilya’s and shoving him slightly off kilter.

Ilya’s heart sang. This was exactly how—no this was so much better than he imagined it would be. 

He was happy. He was so fucking happy.

Chapter End Notes

I had sooo much fun writing these past few chapters. I envisioned the early days of Ilya and Shane's love story in this fic to be easy, fun, open, and vulnerable. It started with an idea to front load the relationship, to start with them falling in love quickly and letting themselves embrace it. I wanted to explore the opposite of what happened in the canon tuna melt scene.

I hope you are soaking in the lovely fluff like I am. Angst is coming. But much more happy times—and more side character action!—to come.

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 11: Are You…?

—Shane—

That night, Shane planned on asking Ilya to fuck him. Like, you know, the fucking kind of fucking.

He wasn’t sure why he was nervous when it was Ilya who brought it up. But it felt big, like intimate in a way that was a line that they couldn’t un-cross.

Ilya was showing him where he could put his skincare stuff when he blurted out “I want you to fuck me now.”

Stunned for a moment, Ilya laughed a little, “like now, now? In front of your five step routine?”

“Fuck off. I mean, like right after the routine. And after we both brush our teeth. And after I..rinse off a bit in the shower.”

Ilya smirked, “mm, rinse, huh?”

Shane blushed furiously, which made Ilya smirk even more.

“Do you want to put your dick inside of me tonight, or do you want to just go to bed all horny and sad—because I am about three seconds away from rescinding my offer.”

“Wow, okay Mr. Businessman, please don’t ‘rescind your offer,’ I will be very serious professional—from now on, promise.”

Ilya said it with air quotes and his R in rescind rolled hard and slammed into the —nnd at the end of the word. It was cute. Shane was instantly charmed. God, he was turning gooey for Ilya fucking Rozanov.

He laughed, “okay, I will keep the offer live. But you might have to do some hard negotiations.”

“Ooh, Mr. Businessman likes it hard. Would he like to see my long portfolio of work? Is biggest in industry.”

They role played a bit more while undressing each other, kissing and biting bare skin as soon as it was exposed. Until they were both hard and moaning for release. “Get. In. Shower. Now. Be. Fast.” Ilya moaned in between kisses.

Shane must have blacked out, because he had suddenly found himself balled up like a pretzel. Ilya Rozanov’s tongue was doing something right now that made Shane release a stream of moaned out half-words. “Fuck, Ilya..fuuck. Don’t stop..just like…fuhh..”

Ilya only paused to move up Shane’s body and suck his cock into his mouth a few times before going back down to lick relentless circles around the sensitive and puckered skin. “Fuck, Rozanov…fff..”

His tongue pressed in, and Shane thought he might actually black out. Ilya’s tongue dipped in and out, shifting deeper and deeper until–”holyfuckingshitfuckingfuckfuck”

Ilya pulled off to grin at Shane, “you like?”

“Yeah, I fucking like.”

After what felt like three hours, Shane was panting, shaking all over, sweating, and begging Ilya. “Please, please. I won’t last. You have to. Oh my god. Fuck. I need—”

At his last words, Ilya pulled off. “What?”

“You know.”

“I want to hear it.”

“You. I need you.”

Ilya moaned.

“Fuck, Shane. You are going to kill me.”

When Ilya gently pushed into Shane, his back bucked off the bed—his head slamming back into the pillow. His moan when Ilya was finally fully inside him was louder than any sound he had ever heard come out of his mouth. It felt incredible, he felt filled. 

“Fffuck, Ilya…mm..fuck..”

Then, Ilya started fucking moving. Shane felt each movement down to his toes. He was seeing stars in his eyes, his head felt floaty as his eyes half shut. Ilya leaned down to kiss him every few seconds, or to take Shane’s nipple into his mouth and bite it.

“More.”

With that single word, Ilya found a pace that had Shane completely undone in a matter of minutes. 

“Oh, god, Hollander—are you..?”

Shane was spent. He had never come so hard in his fucking life.

—Ilya—

They spent the rest of their weekend rotating through Ilya’s planned activities in perfect measurements. Sixty percent spent in bed, forty doing the other stuff.

Ilya learned some new things about Shane.

He slept on the left side of the bed. He brushed his teeth twice each night, the first time before getting into bed, and the second time while peeing and turning off the light. “I like the way the mint tastes, my mouth feels fresh while I fall asleep.”

He learned that Shane is really good at yoga, and that Ilya is really good at distracting Shane from doing yoga. “Ilya, I swear to god, if you try to suck my dick while I am doing downward dog one more time.” Ilya thought he looked like a sexy angry triangle.

He learned that this was easy. Everything felt easy with Shane. They were quiet when they wanted to be. Teasing each other to keep things light. Learning so quickly what makes the other person moan.

Life with Shane felt right.

And he wanted more than just a weekend.

When he had to drop off Shane at the airport late Sunday night, a hole in heart appeared that wasn’t there before.

It was about the size of a six foot hockey player with freckles and a terrible taste in cars.

Chapter 12: Ilya Rozanov is Only Soft for Shane Hollander

Chapter Notes

Fall, 2011 — Spring, 2012

—Shane—

“You skate like my babuska—but before her hip surgery, after, she is much faster than you.”

“Ah, no, this one is perfect because Morozov is Russian player, it hits him in his cock—”

“Under the belt.”

“—yes, this.” Ilya continued, “and you say it all wrong—flat, no passion. You must emphasize the words before her hip surgery to show that this is very embarrassing, to be slower than granny with bad hip.”

“Mm, okay. Agree to disagree. What about this one: ‘You know we are hired to play hockey—not produce boring television that soothes babies to sleep, right?’”

“Oh, come on! This is classic!”

“This is the worst one: ‘I’ve seen little boy fishermen in Russia who have seen more net action than you. Try sinking it in next time, like you are not afraid of it going in.’ This is much too convoluted.”

“I don’t know this word—con-vo-luted—but if it means so funny, then yes.”

They had been at this for a while. Shane was roasting Ilya’s dumbest chirps, and Ilya was radically defending each one with his life.

It was one of the rare nights that Ilya got to stay overnight at Shane’s apartment, with no game until the day after tomorrow. When they had extra time, it was like being handed a precious gift.

Flights between Boston and Montreal were cheap and fast. So every long weekend, every extended break—they took turns coming to stay over.

Their relationship progressed without fanfare. They texted constantly when apart, video calling as much as they could, sending selfies and videos of their lives (Ilya frequently sent dick pics, but Shane continued to refuse to reciprocate)—they were more or less like any other normal long distance couple.

With just one massive glaring exception—they also had to keep it a secret. 

Exclusivity was a topic that came up pretty early. One day, Ilya blatantly asked Shane. 

“Are you fucking anyone else?” 

Shane spluttered, “um, no, when would I even have time to—” 

“Me neither.”

“Okay.” … “Do you..want us to?”

“No. I don’t ever want someone else to ever fuck you again.”

Shane beamed at Ilya, stars in his eyes.

It always felt easy when it was just the two of them. Ilya made him feel like Shane was his entire world, even when there were thousands of others demanding that kind of attention from him.

They played extremely well against each other on the ice. Shane had worried for a split second that falling in love with his rival would make it awkward to play each other.

If anything, it just turned it into foreplay. And they weren’t above betting sexual favors. It kept things spicy.

“Ohhh, Jerry! Look at that hit Hollander took from Rozanov, he’ll be feeling that later!”

Ilya repeated that comment to Shane later that night, “if only he knew what Shane Hollander would actually be feeling later..” Shane just moaned and slammed back into Ilya harder, trying to shut him up.

“Wow, Hollander is on a tear tonight! Hat trick before third period, insane!”

Shane smugly accepted his award, letting Ilya eat him out while Shane sat right on top of his face. Halfway through when his thighs were burning and Ilya was moaning blissed out of his mind, seemingly lost in the sauce—Shane briefly questioned who the award actually was for. But when Ilya reached around his hip and stroked him—he forgot to complain about it.

Both Ilya and Shane led their teams to cup finals, but it was Ilya who won it all.

Jane:

Wow. Just wow.

Lily:

What is reward for cup?

Jane:

Anything you want.

Lily:

typing

Jane:

No, wait

Not anything

I have to approve

Lily:

Too late. You already said.

Jane:

Fine. What do you want.

Lily:

Oh, you will see.

😏

What Ilya wanted apparently, was for Shane to finally send him a series of dick pics. Shane was not exactly thrilled.

“No face, I mean it, really, no identifying features, I am photoshopping out my freckles. Someone could identify—”

“Shane if you photoshop out a single freckle I will break up with you.”

In the end, Ilya smugly received a series of exactly five photos of Shane’s hard cock in varied states of flush. And one photo of his hand covered in his—“Ilya, what the fuck, that is so gross, why would you even want that.”

Ilya won MVP at the MLH awards, and tried to convince Shane to recreate their first hook up. Shane adamantly refused, on the basis of having an entire fucking penthouse to fuck in. He finally ended the argument by promising to do a strip tease for Ilya.

He really just kind of took his clothes off slowly and folded them, but Ilya seemed really into it. 

They said their goodbyes at the beginning of summer, but Ilya was going to come back from Russia early, and spend two whole weeks at Shane’s cottage before the season started.

It was like Shane had entered an alternative reality where everything was amazing all of the time.

Lily:

Is there wifi at cottage?

Jane:

Are you serious

Lily:

Running water? Or should I plan on packing gallons in my check-in?

Jane:

Fuck off.

Lily:

Do you have electricity? How many flashlights should I bring?

Jane:

You’re such an asshole.

Lily:

I bring 2, one for me one for you

Jane:

🙄

Lily:

🔦🔦

Chapter End Notes

Next up, the cottage!!! There will be some time jumps in the next few chapters. I am sorry, it is a necessary evil to get the plot to where it needs to go. I promise to try to keep being as explicit as possible about what season / year / location / POV everything is in. Pro tip: it's almost always in the header!

Chapter 13: Holy Shit

Chapter Notes

Summer, 2012 | The Cottage

—Ilya—

“This is terrible car.”

“How many times are you planning on telling me that?”

“Until you get better car.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you miiiissed me..” Ilya said in a sing-songy voice.

“I fucking didn’t.” But Shane was grinning at him and already had his hand on Ilya’s thigh. A little too high up to be safe for a two hour drive.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Good, because I am making burgers on the grill.”

Ilya raised a brow, “you know how to barbecue?”

“I have a cottage in the middle of a remote forest. Of course I know how to fucking grill.”

“Will you be wearing sexy apron with saying like Check Out My Buns or Eat My Sausage?”

“Ew, no. Where did you even see something like that?”

”At Whole Foods.”

“Why were you at Whole Foods?”

“Not important.”

“No, now I need to know.”

“I am elite male athlete at height of my career. I go to Whole Foods all the time.”

“No the fuck you don’t. I specifically remember you calling health food stores ‘where fun goes to die’.”

“Mm, doesn’t sound like me.”

Shane waited.

“Fine, I was there to buy…sustainably sourced water.”

“What the fuck does that mean?

“Is very important. Big issue. Marlow told me about it.”

“Marlow told you to purchase sustainable water?”

“Yes.”

Thankfully they hit a yield left turn and Shane got distracted. He was hunched over like a cute little grandpa, looking left and right as if a speed racer was approaching—and not a massive tractor going thirty kilometers per hour.

The drive was otherwise uneventful. They mostly just caught up on the last months of finals, because they weren’t able to see each other at all during the extremely taxing period.

But they also bickered about silly things—like who was going to be faster during their morning runs, and whether sunsets or sun rises were better. It felt incredible. It felt normal. Like there was nothing in the world outside of this moment.

When Shane pulled his embarrassment of a vehicle into the long graveled driveway, parking to the left of the cottage—Ilya let out a loud whistle.

“Wow, your real estate fetish really paid off.”

“You have already seen the entire cottage inside and out.”

“Yes, but is very different in person. Videos and pictures do not do it justice. It is huge.”

Shane blushed, which Ilya was thrilled about.

“Yeah, well..uh. Should we go inside? I can give you a full tour.”

Ilya took off his shoes the moment they walked in, and immediately started looking around. It was truly incredible, he understood instantly why Shane loved it so much here. And he was overwhelmed with gratitude that he invited Ilya to come stay for two weeks. He was so stupidly in love with him.

He wanted to tell Shane that he was in love, but every time he thought of doing it, he freaked out. What if it ruined everything?

They had been officially together for almost a year. Which felt like a really long time to wait, and that’s part of what made Ilya so nervous. Did it mean that Shane didn’t feel the same way as Ilya?

To be fair, Ilya also hadn’t said it yet. They told each other “I like you,” all of the time. Ilya thought that as the months went by, Shane’s tone of voice started to sound a lot more like “I love you” every time he said it—but still, he was nervous.

He decided to do it here. In Shane’s favorite place. Ilya was sure that him being invited to the cottage was as clear of a signal as he was going to get. That Shane might just be in love too.

It turns out, Shane was good at grilling. The burgers were great, they ate at an outdoor table that faced toward the lake.

“I probably made too many burgers.”

“Yes. But I will eat again later.”

“Normally I give my leftovers to my parents. Their cottage is fifteen minutes up the road.”

“Ah. Yuna and David, right?”

“Mhm.”

“I know only a little, I want to know more. Tell me.”

Shane paused for a really long time, eyes bouncing nervously between Ilya and the scenery. He cleared his throat.

“Um..maybe..uh..” Ilya sat patiently. When Shane started a sentence like that, it was usually well worth the wait.

Shane took a deep breath and tried again. “I was thinking, maybe, if you’d like to, you’d maybe want to meet them. My parents. It doesn’t have to be this visit, I know it’s soon, but maybe—”

“Shane.” Ilya finally spoke. As soon as he did, Shane met his eyes and stopped rambling. “Of course. I would love to meet your parents. This time. We can go right now if you want.”

Shane laughed nervously, “I didn’t mean like right now. But maybe later this week?” His face was suddenly lit up and his entire body unfolded from the tight position he had scrunched it into.

Ilya wanted to make Shane look like that for the rest of his damn life.

“Shane, I have to tell you something.”

They were relaxing on the couch, facing each other while scrolling on their phones. They kept bumping their feet together. A peak experience of Ilya’s life to-date

Shane looked up, clearly nervous. Ilya immediately panicked, and almost every word in the English language evacuated his brain. He couldn’t remember the whole speech he had prepared.

He took a deep breath and decided to try to articulate what he was feeling, to the best of his abilities at this moment. And he hoped that it would be enough.

“I wanted to say. This has been the best year of my life. I have never been happier. When I see a text from you, my heart is warm. Kissing you is the best feeling in the world. Touching you, making love. It is everything. Never in my life have I felt this way.”

Shane was completely silent, but his eyes were glittering and he looked happy, so Ilya bravely continued on.

“And I wanted to tell you..uh..I just wanted to say that I..” 

Ilya needed to say it in Russian, he needed to say the words like how his mother would say them. For the first time he told someone that he was in love, he needed to feel it with his whole heart. 

“Shane, ya tebya lyublyu…I love you.”

Silence. Then, “holy shit.”

Ilya panicked. What the hell did holy shit mean? Bad holyshit? Good holyshit? Get this psycho out of my cottage hollyshit?

“I love you too. Oh my god, I love you so much.” Shane was beaming at him. He launched himself off the couch and fell onto Ilya. Kissing him all over his face. “I love you. I love you. Of course I do.”

It was the best moment of Ilya’s life.

Chapter End Notes

AHHHH we finally get the "I love yous"! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!

Chapter 14: Nice to See You Again, Mrs. Hollander

Chapter Notes

—Ilya—

Shane had been silent for about an hour, clearly stuck on something and mulling over every possible iteration of the right way to proceed. Ilya was trying to give him space to figure it out on his own terms, but enough is enough.

“I cannot hear the television, you are thinking way too loudly.”

“I can’t decide.”

Ilya waited, but Shane seemed stuck again, so he helped out. “Can’t decide what?”

“If I should come out to my parents before you meet them. Maybe the day before.” Shane paused, seemingly about to offer up his next idea. “Or, I can just show up with you and say ‘I am gay. And Ilya is my..my..”

“Lover.”

“Ew. Gross. Please literally never say word that in front of my parents.”

“Oh. In Russia this means partner, like romantic relationship.”

“Here it basically refers to a person you are having sex with.”

“Well, this is also true, no?”

“Boyfriend. Just, please—for the love of god—use the word boyfriend. Always. There will never be a time or place in which you will need to use the word lover.”

“What about if I am inside you. Like, ‘come on my cock, my sexy lover’?”

Shane’s face went red. “..Maybe.” He coughed. “Stop distracting me.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Shane returned to his previous thought, “as I was saying, that is also an option. But..but it’s a lot to ask.”

“For your parents? Because is surprise? What is it called, a..where you attack bush?”

“Ambush.”

“Yes, this. Like an ambush?”

“No, I mean, it’s a lot to ask of you.” Shane looked away, “if they don’t take it well—”

“They will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that they raised the best person in the world. They have to be pretty good to do that.”

Shane turned red again, his eyes were growing glossier by the second.

Ilya continued, “and is not a lot for me. I would love to be there. For you. I can stay in car if you want. Until you are ready to introduce me. You can tell them about you, and then call me. I will be there, no matter what happens.”

“Really? Would you?”

“Of course. Shane, I am always here for you.” For the rest of our lives, if you want. But he didn’t say that last part out loud.

“Okay. Okay.” Shane released a long slow breath.

Shane’s thoughts were finally quiet. When Ilya unpaused the TV, Shane cuddled up next to him, tucking his head under Ilya’s arm.

Ilya felt like the most important man in the world—because this incredible man was in love with him. He still couldn’t believe it.

—Shane—

They were sitting at the end of Shane’s parent’s cottage. Far enough that his car wouldn’t be accidentally seen, revealing both their surprise arrival and that Shane was not alone.

Ilya was silent, stroking Shane’s hand comfortingly and waiting for him to be ready to get out of the car. And go tell his parents that he is gay. And that his boyfriend was Ilya fucking Rozanov.

“You do not have to do this, Shane.”

“No, I..” Shane sighed, “I want to.”

“Okay. You can do this. You are brave.”

“I feel like I’m going to die.”

“You are—you are brave, Shane. You can do this.”

“Shut up.” But Shane smiled, just a little. “Okay. Okay. I am going to go inside. And I am going to..I will say..fuck.”

“How about you start with something simple. Tell them you are gay. If is not going well, you do not have to tell them about us. Is okay. Really. This is about you, Shane. We have time.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Is up to you. I will not be hurt. This is big moment for you.”

“Okay. Okay. I am going in.”

“I love you. It will be great.”

“I love you too. And I really hope so.”

—Yuna—

“We thought, maybe you were gay.”

“Really?”

“We know you pretty well, Shane.”

Her son was the smartest man she knew. He could predict a hockey player’s next five moves—sometimes before the hockey player himself knew.

But sometimes, he didn’t realize how much people could read him.

Even as a little boy, he was always a little..different. It’s part of what made him so special. He saw the world differently than most other kids.

He was introspective, observant, kind, gentle—talented, so so talented. He worked harder than everyone else, he was never easy on himself. They never had to push him, it was the opposite, they were always reminding him to be patient with himself. 

It wasn’t easy to be different in so many ways.

He was usually the only asian kid in the room, or one of very few. At first, when Shane was really young, he didn’t realize that he was different. But around age ten, he started understanding the microaggressions thrown at him—by both kids and adults.

“Wow, your kid is talented! He must get that from his dad’s side, huh?”

“Where are you originally from, Shane?”

“Hollander…did you change his last name to sound more Westernized?”

Sometimes it was less subtle.

“I’ve never seen an asian hockey player, I didn’t know they even existed!” Another mother said—straight to Yuna’s face. She almost slapped her.

“Mom, Jake called me something today. I don’t know what it means. When some of the kids laughed, coach just told them to knock it off.”

It broke Yuna straight to the core. She had been dreading this day.

“Oh, honey. Some people’s brains are so small that they can’t make room for difference. It is sad for them. They are missing out on so much beauty in the world. It has nothing to do with you. You are the most incredible boy in the entire world. I checked, there is no one better.”

“Mom, you have not met every boy in the world.”

“Yes, yes I have. No one even comes close, honey.”

Over the years, Yuna did everything in her power to protect her son. Her boy grew into a strong man who knows his value. Knows who he is and what he is worth.

She was so incredibly proud of him. And it broke her heart that he felt that he had to hide this part of himself from her.

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry that we didn’t make you feel safe enough to tell us. We are so, so sorry.” Yuna had tears in her eyes that were reflected in her son’s lashes, one fell gracefully down his cheek.

“I forgive you mom.” His voice cracked, and it broke her heart all over again.

They conversed a bit more about Shane’s experience—what he thought his team would say if they knew, his anxiety about being outed, and his plan.

“Until retirement? Shane, that is a very long time to wait to be true to yourself.” David asked, grief in his voice.

“I know dad, but I have no other choice. Hockey..it’s who I am. I can’t lose it.”

“We know honey, but we want you to be happy.” Yuna said.

“I am happy.” Shane looked pretty convincing. He did seem to have a glow this past year, he had a new sparkle in his eyes and he kept smiling at his phone, constantly texting someone. He said it was Hayden, but as a parent, she knew for a fact that a father of two did not have time to be texting all day.

Was he—no, he couldn’t be..but, maybe? 

“Shane..” Yuna hesitated, maybe this was too much too fast. But she also wanted to provide the safe space for this conversation that she wasn’t able to for his coming out. “Shane, are you..seeing someone?”

Shane startled, and then flushed a deep red that told Yuna that she was correct. Oh my god, her baby was dating. Maybe, by the look on his face right now—in love.

“Wow, wow. Shane, we are so happy for you, buddy.” Her husband said, absolutely radiant, thrilled that his son was happy. “We’d love to meet him. You know..whenever you are ready.”

“Um..yeah. About that..” Shane suddenly looked shifty. “He is..uh..he is kind of—” he coughed and looked embarrassed “—he is kind of waiting in the car right now.”

“Shane, are you telling me that your lovely boyfriend is sitting in the car—on a hot summer day mind you—waiting for you?!” Yuna was absolutely appalled.

“You might want to hold your compliments until you find out who he is.”

“Do we know him?” Yuna was suddenly intrigued, running through a mental list of every boy that her son interacted with. J.J. always kind of had that vibe, she always just thought that it was because he is French.

“Um..kind of? You met once. In an elevator.” 

Yuna was really confused now. In an elevator? How many people had she ridden in an elevator with in the past few years—probably at least a hundred. Unless..no. No way. It couldn’t be.

“Shane..honey. Are you dating Ilya Rozanov?” 

—Ilya—

Shane had been inside for at least an hour. Ilya didn’t mind, he was just really worried. He hoped that it was going well. And he could really go for a cigarette right now, he felt that he might be just as nervous as Shane was. But, he could never let Shane know that. He had to be strong. This was Shane’s moment. He could really go for a fucking cigarette right now.

*ding…ding…*

His phone ringing scared the shit out of him. He didn’t realize how zoned out in anxious thoughts he had been.

“Shane? How are you? Is it—”

“Come inside, Ilya. My parents would love to meet you.”

He said Ilya’s name, does that mean...

“Hello, Mr. Hollander, it is very nice to meet you. Mrs. Hollander, it is very nice to see you again.”

Shane looked at him like Ilya had suddenly sprouted a second head. Ilya shrugged slightly, as if to say—I can be polite if I need to be, and meeting my boyfriend’s fucking parents seemed like a pretty good time to try.

“Oh honey, call me Yuna, please. And this is David. We are so excited to meet you as Shane’s boyfriend. He is clearly obsessed with you—mom!—what? Is it not true? Did you not just tell us that he is the love of your life?” 

Ilya loved Yuna instantly. And the fact that she produced the vibrant red shade of blush that was covering Shane from cheeks to neck—was just the cherry on top.

David guided them all into the dining room so that they could sit down together. He pulled out a blue bottle of vodka and served them each a generous glass. 

“This is good vodka. Russian.” Ilya was relieved to have something familiar to ground himself in.

David looked pleased. “Yes, it’s the good stuff.” And winked at Ilya.

Were Shane’s parents..cool?

They left about two hours later, after Ilya had eaten enough pasta to feed a small army. 

“We’ll see you next Tuesday!”

“Thank you for pasta!”

At this point, Ilya had just completed a full week of best-days-of-his-life. Maybe, this is just how life in love with Shane Hollander felt like.

And he never wanted to lose it.

Chapter End Notes

Yuna and David are, in fact, very cool.

Chapter 15: I Think We Should See Other People

Chapter Notes

—Shane—

“Fff..uck….oh fuck fuck..Ilya…Ilya please…please.” 

Shane was a mess. The moment they returned from Shane’s parent’s cottage, Ilya picked up Shane and carried him to their bedroom. He flung Shane down hard, unzipping his jeans and yanking them off in one clean sweep.

Ilya has since then spent the last twenty-three minutes torturing Shane into near-insanity. He started with long slow motions, lazily swiping his tongue across Shane’s cock. He did this for what felt like hours, until Shane was begging for him to speed up. “Fuck Ilya, if you don’t fucking..fffu..oh god…”

Ilya continued to swirl his tongue rapidly in circles at the most sensitive areas of Shane’s cock and skin underneath, making Shane shake and shiver. Ilya moved his fingers lower, softly stroking, feathery light, “are you going to..fuck..will you ever…..fuck.” Ilya finally added pressure and sunk two fingers inside, curling up until—”fuck fuck fuck fuck oh god don’t stop don’t—”

But Ilya did stop. He started and then stopped and started and stopped. Taking long breaks from Shane’s lower half to lick, nip, and tease the puckered skin of his neck and chest. 

He licked lazy stripes across his nipples, letting Shane relax into the sensation, and then would bite one of them hard—sending jolts of pleasure down Shane’s flushed body. He mercilessly sucked hard on the peaks, while firmly stroking Shane’s cock. As soon as Shane would start to tremble and come close to finishing, Ilya would pull back.

”Mm, not yet.”

Shane’s stomach ached from the tensing of his muscles, his brow was damp, and his legs hadn’t stopped trembling since the first time Ilya stuck his tongue deep inside of him in a move that had Shane rethinking his entire life. “Holy fucking..oh my g….shit shit..I’m going to…”

Ilya shifted from what he was doing to move to another part of Shane’s spent body. It was like Shane’s body was a clock and Ilya was moving around him in a constant circular motion. 

From the sensitive peaks of his nipples, to the lobes of his ears, to the ticklish sections of his neck, down to the sides of his stomach—then spending time sucking in the length of Shane’s cock, letting it hit the back of his throat, sucking in his cheeks and humming around him to create a devastating vibration. 

Ilya released his cock with a sultry noise and grabbed the backs of Shane’s knees, folding him and half to begin his descent into Shane’s puckered skin below.

He flattened his tongue to trace circles—around and around. Making Shane shiver and moan. Then he would press his tongue inside of Shane, pulsing it in and out until Shane was begging for more. More friction. More intensity. 

“More. I need more. Please. Fu—fff…fuck.”

Shane thought that even another minute of this torture would put him straight into an asylum. 

“Ilya..Ilya..stop. Stop. I can’t..fuck..fuck..I can’t. I need—”

Shane was wrecked, he was panting as if he had just finished his last shift of a hockey game. His entire body ached from tensing his muscles for so long. All four of his limbs were spasming.

“Please..please..fuck me. I want to—fuck—stop doing that!”

Ilya popped off Shane’s cock again, where he had just been deep throating him while moving his fingers in and out of Shane, crooking them upwards to hit the sensitive nerves inside with each stroke.

Ilya responded, while lightly stroking Shane’s cock with a loose circle made by connecting his forefinger to his thumb. A barely-there sensation that would’ve been nothing if Shane hadn’t been edged for almost thirty minutes—but Shane’s nerves were on fire, and each stroke had his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

”Mm, what was it that you wanted?”

“I want, fuck. Fuck. I want you..to fuck me. Now. I want to..fuck!..I want to come on your cock. Fuck me. I need you to fuck me.” 

Shane knew exactly what was going to happen once he said those words. Something about hearing Shane beg for his cock really did it for Ilya. His eyes would go dark, pupils blown, and his tongue grazed his lower lip. He would lock onto Shane with a laser focus.

Ilya flipped Shane over onto his stomach, and then put his two large hands under Shane’s hips to pull Shane flush against Ilya’s achingly hard cock. Shane moaned, already in that hazy blissed-out state he loved—the one he only ever felt with Ilya.

Ilya lined himself up and sunk inside Shane, frictionless from the tortuous opening with his fingers and tongue.

“Fuuucck. Shane..fuck..ty takoy zazhatyy..moya lyubov…you drive me..ya bez uma ot tebya.”

Shane had no idea what Ilya was saying, and that was one of his favorite things—hearing Ilya so undone by being inside of him that he couldn’t stop a string of seemingly filthy Russian words from coming out of him in desperate waves. Accompanied by heavy breathing and moaning.

Shane loved hearing and feeling how undone Ilya became—it made him feel desired. It made him feel powerful.

He started slamming his body up to meet Ilya’s thrusts, a move that never failed to get a reaction.

”Ty menya ub'yosh'....blyat…fuck..you will kill me, Hollander!”

They found a rhythm that had them both releasing a steady stream of moans and gasps, both building towards an intense finish. Shane always felt it coming only seconds before he came

”Mm, fuu…fuck..ff..oh god..holy..ff…” Shane spasmed around Ilya’s cock, sending Ilya over the edge.

They both collapsed. Heaving, sweating, grinning.

Shane threw an arm over his eyes, waiting for his heart to stop beating a million miles an hour.

When Shane’s chest had finally stopped shuddering with each intake, he turned to Ilya. 

“Wow.”

“We are very good at this.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“I did say it.”

Shane rolled his eyes and turned to fully face Ilya. He started to sift through the messy curls, relishing how the soft ringlets felt over his roughened hands.

“I want..more. Of this.”

“Give me fifteen minutes. We start again.”

Shane laughed, “if you think I can come again after what you just put me through..”

Ilya grinned proudly, inspiring Shane to take one of his nipples and bite it hard.

“Ow! Be careful, Hollander. You will make me fall in love with you.”

“You are in love with me.”

“Fuck. Now what secrets do I have left.”

“Idiot.” Shane tried again, “as I was saying. I’d like to meet some of your people. And maybe you can meet more of mine.”

Ilya’s body went still, his cheeky grin faded a little. “I’d like that. I..uh. I don’t have that many people. Just Svetlana maybe. My father and brother would probably try to put you in prison. Would very be unpleasant.”

He looked distant now, the corners of his mouth fighting to remain neutral, but were dropping with the weight of his next words. “My mother..she would have loved you…Like I love you.”

Shane wished that time travel could have been real, just to go back and get the chance to meet Irena Rozanova—the incredible woman who instilled enough kindness and gentleness in Ilya’s short twelve years with her to protect him from his harsh unforgiving world.

“I wish I could have met her.” He whispered. 

They were silent, both grieving what could never be.

Ilya spoke again, a bit roughly. “But Sveta, you will love her. She is amazing. My best friend since before I can even remember.”

“You and her..you used to, kind of..”

“Yes. But not after. Not after us. It was never serious thing. Just two kids. Nothing like us.” Ilya smirked a little, “and after she saw you on TV for first time, it wasn’t me she was interested in anymore.”

“What? She knows who I am?”

“Shane. You are fucking with me right now. You are most famous hockey player in the world. She is Russian woman.”

“So you admit that I am more famous than you.”

“No, I never say that.”

“You literally just said it.”

“Mm, I don’t think so.” Ilya continued on as if Shane hadn’t tried to respond, “but you being second best player in league is not only reason she knows who you are.”

“Oh. Yeah? Why else?”

Ilya’s face reddened, the tips of his ears hot and the veins in his neck strained a little. “Because she might kind of already know about us.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. I am sorry. Very sorry. It was before we even got together.”

“How?” Shane was still in shock.

“I maybe told her something like ‘I want to fuck Shane Hollander’ before MLH awards. Was how I got idea for rooftop.”

“Um, that was my idea. I followed you.”

“Of course, yes, you followed my dramatic exit up to the rooftop that I came early to find. After I checked to make sure it locked and found spot with no cameras.”

Shane gaped at him. “Whatever.” He grumbled.

“Shane, are you angry at me? That she knows?”

“What? No, of course not. I, uh..am surprised. But you told her before we were even together. So it’s not like you broke a rule or anything.”

Ilya grinned, “she is dying to meet you. She asks constantly when she will finally get to meet Shane Hollander and shake his very large sexy hands.”

It was Shane’s turn to blush beet red.

“Okay, I will meet Svetlana.” Shane started ticking off his fingers. “I’d like you to meet Hayden.”

“Pike?”

“Ilya. Don’t.”

“I say nothing!”

“Mhm. Sure.” Shane continued, “and maybe Rose. If you want.”

Rose Landry was Shane’s long distance close friend from back in his teenage hockey camp days. Her brother is a professional player on an American team. Rose is now an insanely famous actress who travels all over the world to shoot blockbusters. 

She came to visit Montreal or Ottawa every chance she got to see Shane. Shane had also visited her home in Malibu on a few occasions. The Hollywood scene was not really his thing, but Rose had great taste in people, and she always took care of him at parties. 

She even started to introduce him suggestively to a few actors, after Shane hinted that maybe men were more his thing. “Shane, I am getting the sense that..maybe..girls just don’t really do it for you?” She said it so casually one day while they were watching TV that Shane almost forgot he hadn’t come out to her already. Rose was an instant ally and supported Shane completely.

She was going to love Ilya. They were both funny, sassy, and beautiful. He couldn’t even imagine the verbal sparring matches that they would have. The thought made his heart sing.

“Of course, I want. I want it all.”

“And,” Shane continued, “I was thinking..if you want..maybe, Marlow? His voice went up an octave at the end, nervously cracking at the idea of another Raider knowing their secret. But he thought it was only fair, given that he was asking Ilya to meet a Metro. And Marlow was Ilya’s best friend on the team. He seemed like a really nice guy.

“Really?” Ilya was obviously shocked. “I..uh, well..yes. Yes. I’d like that very much. He can be trusted. He is my best friend in league. Outside of you.” And he nudged Shane playfully.

“Okay. We have a list.”

“Is big list. Lots of people. All over continent.” Ilya spread his arms wide, as if to indicate how far apart they all lived.

“Well, it won’t be all at once.” Shane paused and then smiled, “we have all of the time in the world.”

Ilya smiled softly in return. 

“Yes, we do.”

Chapter End Notes

Ahhh, I am SO excited to write the next chapters, with Ilya and Shane meeting each other's people. Cue all of the feels.

Chapter 16: Dinner With the Pikes

Fall, 2012 | Montreal

—Shane—

“Um. So. Thank you for meeting me.”

Shane had asked Hayden to meet him for coffee on one of their rare days off. He was going to come out to Hayden today. And he was freaking out.

Shane had been rehearsing how he would come out to Hayden for weeks—making Ilya listen to different scripts and give him feedback.

“Shane.” Ilya was exasperated after another multiple hour spiral, “he is your best friend, yes? Just tell him truth. He loves you. He will be okay. Trust him.”

“Shane? Are you okay?” 

Hayden’s expression was growing increasingly worried. Shane swore that he almost raised a hand to check if his forehead was warm—dad reflexes maybe. 

“Why are you thanking me for grabbing a cup of coffee with you?” 

“No. I am okay. I, well, um. I wanted to talk to you about something. To tell you something.”

“You can tell me anything, bud.”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just say it then. I am..um, uh....I am..gay." Shane took a deep breath, "I'm gay, Hayd. And I hope you're okay with it."

Hayden didn’t respond for a few seconds, he looked stunned. But then he seemed to realize that he should be saying something, so his words came out all fast and huffy.

“Wow, okay, cool man. That’s cool. Totally cool.”

“Please stop saying cool.”

“Sorry. But really, dude don’t worry—it’s coo—it…it doesn’t change anything. I love you. We all love you—the kids, Jackie, me. You’re everything to us, okay? Nothing can change that.”

“Really? You’re just okay with it?”

“Um, yeah? Duh? You’re my best friend, it’ll take a lot more than you being gay to get rid of me. Even murder I could be down with, you know, if you had a good reason.”

Shane finally laughed, relaxing a little.

“Well, you yourself might actually have a motive for murder after you hear the next part.”

“Next part?”

“Yeah. I am..uh..I’m sort of dating someone. In a relationship. In..love. Gross. I just mean..it’s serious.”

“Wow dude, oh my god, I’m so happy for you. Who is the lucky guy?”

Shane had no idea what overcame him, the words just came out before his brain had time to filter them.

“It's Ilya...Rozanov, but, um, you know that second part." Shane blushed furiously now, what the hell had he just said? It was too late to take it back now, so he doubled down.

"I am dating Ilya Rozanov." Shane tried to say it more like a statement than an apology, but he thought maybe he didn't do a great job of it.

Hayden looked like Shane had slapped his first born child.

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’m not. It’s Ilya.”

“Dude, he’s Ilya now?!”

Shane nervously laughed, “well, he’s actually kind of been Ilya for a while.”

“How long is a while.”

“Like…since the end of Rookie year.”

“Are you fucking serious. You’re fucking with me. I’m being punked.” Hayden looked horrified, “dude, but, he’s an asshole. And you..you’re the best guy I know. I don’t know, buddy. I’m really struggling here. Help me understand.”

“He’s not an asshole to me. He treats me like I’m the most important thing in the world. I feel safe with him. I feel..loved. Cared for. My parents—“

“—your parents know?!”

“Yes. My parents love him. He came to the cottage this year, he met them. He and my dad love doing puzzles together and my mom is obsessed with how he always insists on washing the dishes.”

“Ilya Rozanov spent the summer doing puzzles and washing dishes at your parent’s cottage. Ilya Rozanov, the one from the Raiders.”

“Um, yeah?”

“Fuck. Fuck.” Hayden sighed, he had run out of questions. “We need to call Jackie. I just lost $1000.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know how, man. Jackie is a fucking superhuman. She recently made a bet with me that you were gay and dating Ilya Rozanov. I said she was absolutely nuts.”

Hayden looked horrified, “not because of the gay thing—there’s nothing, there’s nothing wrong with that. But about Rozanov. I thought she was insane.”

"What?” Of all the things he expected Hayden to say, that wasn’t even close to one of them. “How the hell did she know?”

“I don’t know dude, let’s call and ask her. Fuck! I’ll never hear the end of this.”

They were sitting at Shane's dining room table in his Montreal apartment. In the middle of an animated video call with Hayden's wife, Jackie.

“Shane, honey, anyone with eyeballs and a brain could see it.“ Jackie spoke with emphasis on the word brain.

"Hey!” Hayden sputtered.

"Sorry babe, it’s true! I mean, anyone who loves you enough to be really paying attention—“

“Okay now you’re just gloating.”

“Hayden, I swear to god let me speak.” Jackie continued, “it was all of the giggling at your phone—“

“I do not giggle at my phone.”

“Did you boys call to ask me how I knew about Shane and Ilya—or did you call to be a couple of interrupting idiots.”

“Sorry, Jackie.” Shane and Hayden said in unison.

“As I was saying—Shane, you've been pretty obviously in love for a while. I started wondering why you hadn’t told us. I figured that maybe it was because the person wasn’t a woman, and that you weren’t ready to come out.”

“Okay, you knew I was seeing someone, and that it was probably a man—but how could you possibly have known that it was Ilya?” Shane was incredulous.

Jackie smiled softly, “It took me a while, but there were lots of little signs over the years. You never once called him an asshole when the other guys did. I caught you reading news articles about him on more than one occasion. You started visiting Boston a lot, which we thought was for Lily, but I figured out at some point that your visits always coincided with league-wide holiday breaks.”

Shane interrupted, “those could have been just coincidences.”

“Yes—all of that could have been coincidence or friendly rivalry—but then, something happened that confirmed it for me once and for all. There was something about the face you made when J.J. called Ilya a “cocksucker” during the Stanley Cup final.” 

Jackie looked sad at the memory, but continued on. “You flinched. And then subconsciously pulled out your phone and scrolled to Lily’s contact.”

“Wait, Boston Lily is Rozanov?!”

“Oh my god, Hayden. At least try to keep up.” 

Jackie rolled her eyes and Hayden huffed.

 “Yes. Lily. Boston Lily. Ilya. It all came together in that one moment. And then I watched you when he won. You didn’t look jealous—you looked proud. Honey, you looked like the man you loved had just won the fucking cup.”

“Wow. Jackie..just..wow.” Shane was stunned. Then he panicked a little, “wait, do you think anyone else has figured it out?”

Jackie must have sensed his anxiety, because she softened her tone. “Shane, I really don’t think so. If your own parents—or this bumbling fool of a best friend—didn’t figure it out, I don’t think anyone else did.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but I’m a genius.”

“She is a genius, Shane. No one else could possibly know.”

“Aw, thanks babe.”

“Gross. Get a room you guys.” But Shane was grinning.

“Sooooo, when do we get to meet him?!” Jackie clapped her hands together. “We need to have him over for family dinner next time he’s in town. I must meet the man who stole our sweet Shane’s heart.”

“No—no, wait. Ilya Rozanov is not coming to..he can’t—“ Hayden was spluttering again.

“Babe, choose your next words very wisely, because they are the difference between sleeping on the couch or sleeping with me tonight.” 

Shane knew that tone. That was Jackie’s I’m-about-to-get-whatever-the-fuck-I-want voice.

“I’d love for you guys to meet him. The real him. The version of Ilya who is just my boyfriend.”

“Oh my god. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this.” Hayden groaned.

But Jackie was beaming, “well buckle up, buddy, because Ilya Rozanov is having dinner with the Pikes!”

—Ilya—

“Be nice.”

“I am very nice.”

Shane rolled his eyes.

“Be nice to Hayden.”

It was Ilya’s turn to roll his eyes. He blew his tongue. “If Pike is nice to me, I will be nice back.”

“What is this, kindergarten?”

“Shane, I will behave. For you, I will.”

“Mhm.”

“Do not do this—mhm—you do not believe me?”

“I’ll believe it when I fucking see it.” Shane turned to Ilya and gave him an exasperated look. 

They were about to get out of Shane’s ugly car and go have family dinner with Hayden fucking Pike. He apparently had a million children, which Ilya was excited about. He loved kids. They weren’t bullshitters, and they were funny as hell. He hoped to get them to laugh while he made silly faces and told them scary Russian children's stories. 

Shane had been coaching him for the entire twenty minute drive over.

“Don’t call him the seventeenth best player on the Metros."

"Don’t tease him about the number of kids he has.”

"Say please and thank you."

"Compliment Jackie’s cooking—“

“—Shane, you realize I was raised by humans in normal house, and not by wolves in remote forest, yes?”

“I just want them..I want you to..I want us all to get along. It’s important. To me. Please, Ilya—“

“Shane, moya lyubov, I will be so well behaved that you will start to worry I’ve been body snatched.”

“Body snatched?”

“I’ve been very into alien movies lately.”

Ilya had finally convinced Shane that he was not too much of a heathen to eat pot roast with the Pikes, and they left the car. Ilya was whispering final promises that he would be the perfect house guest as they walked to the front of the house.

But when Pike opened the door with a pinched up red face and said in a tight voice, “hey Shane, good to see ya buddy! You too…uh…Rozanov. Come on in you guys.”

Ilya knew that it would be very difficult to keep his promise.

—Jackie Pike—

Her husband was the kindest man she knew. He was also handsome, funny, and an amazing father. 

Hayden remembered everyone’s name, even if they only had met once. He bought his grandma flowers every time they visited the retirement home. 

He listened to people, he really listened. Even if he was, at times, a well-intentioned idiot—he loved ferociously. He was loyal to a fault, and would go to battle for those he loved. And he was a sexy hockey player on one of the top three teams in the MLH.

Jackie had popped out two of his babies in one go—and she wouldn’t have done that for any less of an incredible man.

There was only one person in the entire world who didn’t like her husband—and he had just walked through their door, holding Shane’s hand and a very expensive looking bottle of red wine.

“Ilya! It is so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Shane. And, of course, you’re kind of a little bit of a legend.”

The three extremely different expressions displayed by the men in front of her made her almost laugh out loud.

Hayden looked like he was about to pop a vein in his forehead.

Shane was looking at Ilya with horror, clearly terrified by what his response would be.

And Ilya—who had been clearly coached to behave for at least a week by Shane, and probably threatened more than a few times—was using every ounce of self preservation to hold back a shit eating grin.

Jackie stepped back to admire her work.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

After they had all finally sat at the dinner table, food in front of them and glasses full—Ilya spoke.

“Thank you for having me. Your home is very beautiful.”

Shane beamed. Hayden stopped an eye roll just in time, helped by a targeted shin kick by Jackie.

“Aw, thank you Ilya.” She said, “we are so thrilled to have you. Other than your hockey stats, I really don’t know that much about you.”

“Ah, yes. Same here. Well, at least for Pike—” Ilya had clearly received his own shin kick, because he stifled a groan and changed his mind about what he was about to say next. 

Jackie winked at Shane, who looked like he was on the brink of passing out. She nodded to his glass of cold ginger ale, he grabbed it and chugged half.

“So, where did you grow up?” Jackie was determined to have something close to an adult conversation with the three bumbling men sitting at her mahogany dining table.

“Moscow. Always in city center. My father, he is police chief.”

“Oh wow, isn’t that dangerous? For you? Being..”

“Into men and women?”

“Yes.” Jackie loved him already. Ilya was direct and did not flinch at a single one of her rapid fire questions. Finally a man who could keep up with her.

“Yes. Very. That is why he will never know.” 

A sad silence fell over the table, but Ilya’s gaze did not waver. He had a specific kind of quiet resilience, the type that was forged by the lack of love from a parent.

“And your mother?”

“Jackie—” Shane spoke now, he looked worriedly at Ilya.

“No, is okay. She..uh, she is dead. I was young.”

“I am so sorry, Ilya. That’s horrible.”

Jackie was shocked to hear the words spoken—not by herself, but by her husband.

Hayden looked stricken by Ilya's lonely existence. He had the type of bleeding heart that was born from being a father of two adorable children. Jackie knew for a fact that, very much against his will, Hayden was imagining a young curly-headed Ilya—all alone in a big city with a father who didn't love him and a government that criminalized him for who he loved.

As soon as Hayden Pike looked at you like that, there was no going back—you were part of the pack. Jackie knew that from that moment on, Ilya was part of the family.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful. They laughed, they shared more of their stories, and overall it was a huge success.

While she and Hayden were seeing them out, Ilya asked, “where are your children?”

“The twins are at my mother’s for the night. We figured it might be easier without them here. The twins are..a lot. Going through the terrible twos.” 

He looked very disappointed, it made Jackie’s heart swell with joy. Ilya Rozanov wanted to meet her kids? Oh, he was a fucking keeper.

She looked pointedly at Shane as if to communicate this sentiment, but he was gazing at Ilya like he hung the moon, sun, and stars.

“But next time, we’d love for you to meet them.” 

“Yes. Next time. Perfect.” 

Ilya’s face positively beamed at the second invitation—only outshown by Shane’s own glowing expression. 

When she shut the door behind them and was sure they had walked away, she grabbed Hayden close to her. Kissing him softly.

“Thank you. For being nice.”

“He’s alright.”

“Mhm.”

“And Shane loves him.”

“And Ilya loves Shane. Like a lot. A lot a lot. That man is wrecked.”

“He better deserve him. I’ll still kill him if he hurts Shane—sad lonely childhood be damned.”

Jackie laughed. Maybe it was time for baby number three…

Chapter 17: Sveta, I Swear to God!

Chapter Notes

Winter, 2012 | Boston

—Svetlana—

“Let’s go over this one more time.”

“Ughhh, Ilyusha you are being so boring.”

“You cannot tell him about what happened in Prague.”

“But—“

“You cannot tell him about Morocco.”

“Ilyaaa—“

“And under no circumstances are you to tell him about the Italian incident."

Svetlana stuck her tongue out at Ilya and blew at him. 

“Fine, I will instead ask Shane if he knows about what you had planned for him after the All Stars game in—“

“Sveta, I swear to god!”

“And then, he spit up all over himself!”

“The camel?”

“No, Ilya! It was hilarious. The tour guide issued an official notice that no one is allowed to drink vodka while riding camelback. We are both banned for life, no more caravans in Morocco!”

Shane laughed, doubling over, while Svetlana was crying tears of joy. Slapping her own knee and then Shane’s. Ilya was sitting across from them—Svetlana had long ago convinced Shane to come sit next to her. Ilya’s face expressed a complicated mixture of emotions—ranging from horror to elation. He mostly looked positively thrilled that the two people he loved most in the world were roasting the shit out of him.

“Wait, wait. How many years was this after the Italian incident?”

“Not enough!” 

They cackled again, falling into each other.

Ilya had been put through enough embarrassment, apparently, because he huffed loudly and crossed his arms.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Sooo funny. Sit and make fun of poor innocent young me, being taken advantage of by Italian locals.”

“Ilyusha—you stole a two hundred year old chalice from a cathedral!”

“They gave me wine in it! I thought was souvenir from nice little old raisin man.”

“Ilya, you don’t come out on top during any part of that story.” Shane retorted, with the confidence of a first-hand witness.

Shane grinned mischievously over at her best friend. And wow, he was fucking gorgeous.

As soon as Shane Hollander walked into the doors of the high end restaurant—where she had secured for them a private dining experience—she understood why Ilya didn’t give up on getting to him for over two whole years.

Shane was tall, but not lanky or awkward. He sat well within his own body—solid, sure of himself. 

He was wearing a fitted golden yellow knit sweater tonight, it fell just a millimeter above the waist of his slacks—every time he lifted an arm, his tanned abs showed just a little. His eyes were bright and bold, when he looked at you, it felt like he wasn’t seeing anything else.

He smiled as if it cost something—not in a bad way, but in a way that made it so satisfying to find the things that would make his face all scrunch up in a big grin.

He would bite his full bottom lip when he was focused, every time he did it, she noticed Ilya staring. She didn’t blame him.

Shane Hollander was so hot that it felt downright sinful just to look at him.

“What does—il-loo-sha—mean?” Shane asked Svetlana.

“Ooh, Ilya has not taught you about Russian nicknames yet?” 

Svetlana was outright thrilled when she felt Ilya kick her under the table. She grinned right at him while he did his best to hide his burning ears.

“Is nothing. No need to—“

“No, I want to learn.” Shane was so eager. Svetlana liked him so much already, just hours after meeting him.

“In Russia, you would rarely say someone’s given name outside of a formal setting. Nicknames are derivative, like I call Ilya mostly ‘Ilyusha’ which is a sweet version of his name for a friend or family member. Sometimes, I call him ‘Ilyshenka’ which is even more affectionate.”

“What would I call him then?” 

Ilya looked like he was about to die. Svetlana was actually genuinely worried that he might pass out at any minute.

“You can call him either of those, but also there are more romantic pet names.”

“Sveta—“ Ilya was now fully stepping on her foot, she kicked him off and continued.

“What does he call you?”

It was Shane’s turn to blush red. It was adorable.

“I’m..not sure. I..uh, I don’t ask what it means. I’m usually—“ Shane blanched.

“Mm, let me guess, you usually have your mouth full?”

“Sveta, I swear to god! I’m going to—“

Svetlana rolled her eyes and waved off Ilya’s impending rampage of empty threats.

“What about something like moya lyubov?”

“Oh, yeah. He calls me that. A lot. What does it mean?”

“It doesn’t mean—“ Ilya tried again to save himself.

“It means,” Svetlana glared at him, “my love. It is a very sweet term. Only for romantic partners.”

Ilya threw his hands up, shaking his head left and right as if someone would come see his peril and rescue him.

Shane grinned at him, making Ilya even shiftier in his seat and pinker in the face. “My love, huh?” He smiled again, his eyes not leaving Ilya’s, “tell me again how to say it.”

“Say it like this. I’ll sound it out. Ma-ya loo-bov. Emphasize the ya.”

“Ma-YA loo-bov.” Shane repeated it, staring directly at Ilya. Svetlana swore she saw Ilya tear up.

“What are some others?”

This went on for a while, Svetlana teaching Shane some cute names—and some names that made Ilya flush red and hide his head in his hands.

Shane was a quick learner, and he seemed to love the effect it was having on Ilya to hear him speaking Russian pet names.

Before they knew it, it was close to midnight and her friend who owned the restaurant had sent her a subtle polite signal that the kitchens were closing.

“We must do this again soon, Shane. Please. I have so much more I need to learn about you.”

“And I need to hear more embarrassing stories about Ilya—or should I say Ilyusha?” And Shane winked, he actually winked at Ilya.

Oh, her best friend was fucked for life. If Shane Hollander looked at her like that, she’d chain him to her bed and never let him leave the house.

That’s about how Ilya was looking at him right now.

“I think we’ve heard enough for tonight, moyo solnyshko.”

“What’s that one mean?” Shane asked Ilya.

Ilya blushed pink again, but answered right away—“my sunshine.”

Svetlana:

You better put a ring on it, Ilya.

Ilya:

Yes, this is my plan.

Svetlana:

❤️

Chapter End Notes

Oh Svetlana, moya lyubov, I love you.

Chapter 18: Paint a Picture on My Face

Chapter Notes

Translations for Russian sentences are in chapter end notes!

Spring, 2013 | Boston

—Ilya—

Ilya Rozanov was dying. He was dictating his own eulogy out loud, for Shane to give at his funeral.

“You will say, ‘here lies the love of my life—I murdered him by fucking myself on purple dildo. I am horrible mean man with no soul and I am sorry to the world for killing best player in MLH.’”

Ilya had lost a bet. Like an idiot, he was somewhat excited about it when he lost—but now he was devastated. 

Shane had proposed a bet before their game this afternoon. 

“If I win, you watch me come on my purple dildo. You cannot touch yourself—or me. Or you don’t get to come after.”

Ilya had been stunned by the sheer filthiness of Shane’s proposal, he couldn’t speak for a full minute while he processed the images of Shane sitting on his bed, opening himself up, fucking himself on his—

“Okay. And what do I get if I win?”

Shane smirked at him, “you get to come on my face.”

Ilya audibly gasped. Shane Hollander was going to kill him.

He fought hard on the ice—literally—but Shane was on a tear, he had a hat trick before the third shift.

So here they were. Ilya was banished to a chair positioned in front of his large bed, and Shane was sprawled open on the dark blue sheets.

His legs were wide and his knees were angled slightly up. He had propped his hips up on a large pillow, his back and shoulders were against the headboard.

Shane had started with the rules.

“No getting up. No touching your cock. No touching me.”

Ilya wordlessly nodded. Shane was insane. He had been body snatched by a slutty dominatrix. Ilya was asking god what he did to deserve this so that he could be sure to do it again later.

Shane then demanded that Ilya get completely naked “I want to see you hard and leaking for me.”  And then placed Ilya in a chair at the foot of the bed.

He leaned in and kissed Ilya deeply, licking into him, biting his lips, grasping his chin and roughly tugging it to the side for better entry. Ilya moaned and bucked up, he reached up his hands to touch Shane, but was slapped away. “No touching.”

Ilya groaned, this was going to be torture. He immediately rethought his prayers.

Shane started his show by stripping, folding each item of clothing with precision—just the way Ilya liked. Something about the stark contrast of a six foot tall hockey player with a hard cock and the domestic act of folding clothes, it fucking did it for Ilya.

He then got on the bed and into position. He skimmed his hands over his taut body, following Ilya’s usual path—pinching his nipples, grabbing his throat, feathering light strokes across his sides and stomach—Ilya thought that he might come just from watching Shane tease slow circles over the hard peaks of his pecs. How the fuck was he going to survive this?

The answer to his question was cut short when Shane reached down to start stroking his cock. It was hard and flushed pink—Ilya wanted to taste it. He wanted to take it in his mouth and feel it hit the back of this throat. He wanted to gag on it.

He let out a moan, rubbing his hands on the sides of his chair—just to feel some friction against his tingling skin. Ilya’s cock was hard already, he could feel wetness dripping onto his thighs. His body had already started to tremble. This was going to be a long night.

Shane had pulled out a small bottle and snapped the lid open with a *pop*—he coated his fingers and circled Ilya’s favorite place in the world with infuriatingly slow motions. Shane moaned and gasped, his back arching deliciously, his head thrown back revealing his flushed neck with strained veins on either side. His mouth was open and when he tilted his head back down to look straight into Ilya’s eyes, Ilya was pretty sure that the image could be used to represent what heaven looked like.

Shane pushed his fingers in, curving them in the way that Ilya had done hundreds of times. He kept his other hand on his cock, stroking up and down in a matching rhythm. He was moaning filthily, arching his back and then slamming it back down. Closing his eyes and biting his lower lip until it looked puffy and red. 

Ilya couldn’t take it anymore. “Shane. Please. Please. Let me—“

Shane didn’t respond with words, instead he reached under the pillow next to him and pulled out a large purple dildo.

Ilya has never seen it outside of his imaginations on lonely nights. It was big. It was curved in a way that Ilya knew would hit Shane’s nerves on every stroke.

“No no no. Don’t do this. I will do laundry for whole year. I will”—his English short circuited, “Blyad', ya pomoyu posudu, ya vstanu na koleni i budu umolyat'. Detka, ne delay etogo so mnoy.”

Shane smiled, self satisfied at Ilya resorting to begging, and then pushed the dildo inside of him. Hitting the base in one slow motion. Once it was fully in, Shane shifted into a new position. He got up onto his knees and then leaned back a little so that Ilya had a clear view of everything that Shane was doing. 

He resumed pumping the dildo up and down, grasping his cock again and stroking in tandem. He moaned sinfully. His whole body was engaged in the act, his abs were fully visible and tight, his thighs were bulging under the pressure of staying upright while being blissed out, his arms were swollen with the strain of his movements—Ilya wanted to take a photo. He wanted to hire an oil painter to sit next to him and paint a portrait for his living room. He wanted to—

“Fuck..ff..oh my god I’m going to..”

Shane was trembling, Ilya knew those words. “Shane, stop. Stop, stop, let me. Please. Blyad', prekrati eto.”

But Shane didn’t stop. Ilya’s heart was pounding, his cock was aching painfully, his body was sore from tensing for so long. His fingers raw from gripping the chair tightly. His thighs shook from the effort of physically restraining himself for so long. 

Shane looked at him, into his eyes, and came.

It was the most beautiful thing Ilya had ever seen. Shane’s entire body shook with it. He moaned loudly and continuously. Threads of come hit the sheets in front of him. He maintained eye contact with Ilya as long as he could, but then threw his head back and lost himself in the moment. 

Finally, his body slumped. His chest was heaving. His eyes were red and watery from the physical intensity of the insane show he had just put on.

Ilya’s jaw was slack, but then he closed it to gulp loudly. Fuck.

“Shane, what the fuck. That was..detka, ty menya ubila. ya mortv…fuck.”

Shane moved off his bed and walked over to Ilya. Ilya moved to stand, but Shane put his hand up, commanding him to sit. 

“I said no touching.”

“Please, no. I’ve been so good for you. I never..I didn’t..please.”

Shane cocked his head to the side. “Say it again.”

“Please. Please. Please please please. Let me touch you. Let me—“

Shane leaned over him, his hands braced on the arms of the chair on either side.

“No.”

Ilya’s breath stuttered, stuck in his throat.

“You will not touch me.”

Shane reached down to lightly stroke Ilya’s hard and leaking cock. It made Ilya jolt upwards and shiver, moaning loudly, and frustratingly grind his hips up to gain more friction. 

“If you touch me, I will stop.” Shane leaned down to lightly brush Ilya’s lips with his own. “And you wouldn’t want that, would you.”

Shane then sank to his knees, tugging Ilya’s thighs forward so that he was almost hanging off of the chair. He took Ilya into his mouth in one quick motion, bottoming out—Ilya’s cock hit the back of his throat.

Ilya threw his head back and released a guttural moan.

—Shane—

He got the idea for his little show from Rose.

“And then I said ‘you will not touch me’ and made him come without ever getting to lay a finger on me. It was fucking hot.”

Shane couldn’t stop thinking about it. Imagining Ilya, begging to touch while he watched Shane fuck himself. Ilya would hate it. Shane grinned at the thought of it.

He formulated a plan. A bet. Ilya never could resist a little game based bet, he loved to gloat.

It was risky betting for Ilya to not touch, and to watch Shane come on a dildo instead of his dick. He thought that Ilya might say no. But he didn’t.

And it was game on.

He had given a rousing captain’s speech, it rivaled some that he gave during last year’s cup finals.

Shane did everything in his power to win. He wasn’t above playing dirty, he winked at Ilya during their first face off. He saw Ilya’s eyes flutter and darken, his mouth gaping. Shane knew he had the upper hand from that moment on.

When Shane slammed Ilya against the boards, fighting for the puck, he said “are you playing to lose, moya lyubov?” Ilya blanched and looked like he was on the brink of collapse.

The Metros won 4 to 2. It was too easy.

And now, after finishing his show, Ilya sat before him looking like a wreck. His curls were plastered to his forehead, his chest was heaving, his face was flushed, his lips wet. 

“You will not touch me.”

He thought that Ilya might start to cry.

He knelt in front of Ilya, and Shane took his cock to the back of his mouth in one quick motion. Ilya’s hips bucked up, but Shane reached up to pin him down.

He started moving with intensity, up-swirl-down-up-swirl-down. He sucked in his cheeks hard, and hummed loudly in the way that drove Ilya insane.

He used his right hand to stroke in sync with his mouth, and his left hand to explore Ilya’s body. Fingering lightly over his thighs, his stomach, and his chest. It caused Ilya to shiver and tremble. He squeezed and pulled hard on his nipples, eliciting desperate moans and gasps. He tugged on Ilya’s balls, and rolled them in his hand. He lightly stroked his fingers up and down the sensitive skin underneath, that led downwards towards the puckered skin below.  

Shane kept his gaze upward to watch Ilya gape down at him, his mouth open—his eyes blown dark and wide. Ilya’s head occasionally jerked backward, revealing his flushed throat. His thighs shook and tried to pulse upward for more friction, but Shane held him down.

“Fuh..ff.fuck Shane…Ty tak prekrasna dlya menya — na kolenyakh, s moim chlenom vo rtu…..fuck…mmm..Hollander, I’m going to..”

Shane then pulled his mouth off of Ilya’s cock, taking it into his right hand, stroking it while he tapped Ilya’s thigh.

“Stand up. Stand up.”

“Wha..fuck…Blyad', detka, ya ne mogu…..Shane, I cannot stand.”

Ilya’s voice was rough and raspy, his breath was stuttering in and out of his chest in harsh motions.

“Stand. Or we stop.”

Shane softened his strokes, just barely providing Ilya any friction. He lightly thumbed a couple of times over the swollen head, causing Ilya to groan in frustration and desperation.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

When Ilya stood, he swayed a little, almost losing his balance. Shane had to hold Ilya's legs to steady him. Shane licked a final stripe across the head of Ilya’s cock, to taste the wetness gathering there, and then he grabbed Ilya’s right hand and guided it to grasp himself. Ilya didn’t move his hand, he was frozen in place, confused.

Shane put his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together. He leaned back on his heels, offering himself. He locked eyes with Ilya’s and spoke in a soft but commanding voice.

“I want you to come on me. I want you to come on my face.”

Shane didn’t take his eyes off of Ilya’s.

“I want you to picture this the next time you touch yourself—me on my knees for you, my face covered in your come.”

Ilya’s face was indescribable—a combination of awe, reverence, and desire. Shane himself wanted to memorize this moment and replay it again and again.

He didn’t know what had come over him, he felt drunk with power. At the feeling of being the reason Ilya looked undone, ruined.

Ilya tightened the grip on his cock, but still didn’t move. He seemed to hesitate.

“Are you..are you sure?..I wasn’t ever really going to..I cannot...on your beautiful face..”

“I want you to. Paint it.”

Hearing those words—Ilya released a guttural moan and began to stroke himself erratically. Shane watched him, mesmerized. He licked his lips, anticipating what it would feel like to have Ilya’s come splash across them. Ilya watched this motion with wide eyes, and then he doubled over, coming with a groan—striping Shane’s lips, nose, and cheeks with his finish.

“Lyubimaya, ty isportila menya dlya vsekh ostal'nykh — nikto ne mozhet s toboy sravnit'sya. Chort, ya lyublyu tebya.”

Ilya was leaning on Shane, his hands braced on both shoulders. He was raggedly speaking in hushed Russian. Shane let the words wash over him. He raised his hand to wipe some of Ilya’s come off of his mouth.

Shane stood up, grabbed Ilya’s chin and made him watch as he pushed his come-covered thumb into his mouth, moaning at the taste. Ilya’s eyes widened, his body shuddered at the sight. Shane grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in, kissing him deeply.

When he pulled back, Ilya swayed in place, almost falling back into the chair. His eyes closed and his breathing started to finally slow down. When Ilya finally came back into his body, his eyes bounced around Shane’s face.

“You are a mess.”

Shane laughed. “Worth it. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Fuck, Shane. Vykhodi za menya pryamo seychas — ya podkhvachu tebya i potashchu v sud.”

Shane had practiced this for weeks, even calling Svetlana once to make sure he was saying it correctly.

He stood up and held Ilya close to himself, reaching to put Ilya’s arms around him. Ilya sunk into the feeling of finally getting to touch Shane. He signed deeply and leaned in to kiss Shane.

Shane pulled away, just a few inches, he whispered, “ya tebya lyublyu.” 

Ilya gasped, and then melted. “Ya tebya lyublyu, lyubov' moya, ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu. I love you so much, Shane.”

—Ilya—

Ilya was serious about wanting to marry this insane, wild, gorgeous man. He considered proposing right then and there—with Shane’s beautiful face covered in his come. 

It would make for a very fun dinner party story.

Chapter End Notes

Shameless porn without plot chapter! With the exception of the major reveal at the end—Ilya proposal coming up? Oh, we will see.

Translations:
Blyad', ya pomoyu posudu, ya vstanu na koleni i budu umolyat'. Detka, ne delay etogo so mnoy. = fuck, I will do the dishes for a month, I will get on my knees and beg. Baby, do not do this to me.

Blyad', prekrati eto. = fuck, stop this

Detka, ty menya ubila. YA mortv. = baby, you killed me. I am dead.

Ty tak prekrasna dlya menya — na kolenyakh, s moim chlenom vo rtu. = you are so beautiful for me, on your knees, my cock in your mouth.

Lyubimaya, ty isportila menya dlya vsekh ostal'nykh — nikto ne mozhet s toboy sravnit'sya. Chort, ya lyublyu tebya. = my love, you have ruined me for all others, no one can compare. fuck, I love you.

Vykhodi za menya pryamo seychas — ya podkhvachu tebya i potashchu v sud. = marry me right now, I will pick you up and drag you to the courthouse.

Ya tebya lyublyu = I love you

Ya lyublyu tebya, lyubov' moya, ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu. = I love you, my love, I love you so much

Chapter 19: I’m Crazy, But You Like It

Chapter Notes

Late Spring, 2013 | Malibu 

—Rose—

“How many bottles of vodka is too many?”

“Rose, we’ve been through this a hundred times. It will be great. He isn’t expecting anything more than to just spend time with you. He just wants to meet you finally.”

Rose and Shane had been working for months to orchestrate a time for her to meet Ilya. Their three very different and intense schedules made it difficult. 

“April 15th, you and Ilya both have the weekend off.”

“Ugh, I have a Rolex shoot on Saturday. It’s been on the books for half a year. I can’t reschedule.”

Rose blew her tongue, her sexy rich best friend was a real pain in her ass. Fucking Rolex?

“Okay, okay, May 3rd, you both have a four day break. What can you possibly have then—a cameo in a Madonna music video?”

“Does Madonna even make music still? She is an 80s pop star, right?”

“Shane, you are shitting me right now. You know who Madonna is. Like a Prayer? Vogue?”

“The magazine?”

“I am going to kill you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you want me to kill you?”

Shane laughed, “no, I mean, yes that weekend works.”

“Do you need to check with Ilya?”

Shane was silent for a moment, “um..no, we’re good.”

“Are you sure? He doesn’t have any Ferrari photoshoots coming up?”

“Uh..no. I am sure. We, uh..we have a shared calendar.” He coughed, embarrassedly.

“Oh. My. God. You guys are so fucking cute.”

“Shut up.”

“You are disgusting.”

“I am going to hang up.”

“You’re so in loooOoOoove with each oooOthherrr.” Rose sang out of tune.

“You know what, actually I just checked and we’re not free anymore.”

Rose laughed, “you love me.”

“Ugh, I really do.”

“May 3rd, then. How many nights can you stay?”

“Probably two.”

“Okay, I’ll take it!” Rose exclaimed, out of her mind with excitement.

“Yes, May 3rd. We’ll see you then.” 

Rose swore she could hear the smile on Shane’s face.

She was a ball of nerves. 

In the eight years that her and Shane had been best friends, he had never introduced her to someone. She wasn’t sure he had even ever dated someone before.

Rose and Shane met during the summer of 2005. Shane was fifteen years old, she was fourteen.

Shane was at the same summer hockey camp as her older brother. Rose was dragged along by her single mom who had no other childcare options. Her parents had divorced a few years earlier, and she split her time between living in L.A. with her dad, and Toronto with her mom. Her father was on a business trip, so she was left to hang out in the stands of a large hockey arena in Montreal all summer long.

She noticed Shane on the very first day. He was so different from the other boys, his eyes were kind and soft. He was so serious. Even at such a young age, he was gorgeous—his dark hair fell into his eyes, and his cheeks were covered in freckles. 

Rose developed a crush right away. She was determined to have Shane be her official first kiss. She liked hockey, but it was boring to have to just sit and watch while the boys had all of the fun. And she had a good motive, so she organized a game of seven minutes in heaven with all of the hockey boys, any age-appropriate tag along siblings, and a few local teens who hung out at the arena watching the scrimmages.

“Alright listen up—no boy/boy or girl/girl—no siblings, yuck!—girls get to choose the boys—and no being in the bathroom for more than seven minutes!” 

After Rose laid down the rules, she let a few girls pick their boys. She didn’t want to be too obvious. Every time a girl pointed to a boy, she held her breath, hoping that it wouldn’t be Shane. She got lucky three times in a row, and she finally decided not to push her luck any longer.

“Okay, I choose….Shane..Hollander? It’s Shane Hollander, right?”

Rose knew that his name was Shane Hollander.

She also knew that Shane looked petrified the moment she called his name.

“Um, it’s Rose, right? You are James’s little sister?”

“I am only a year younger than you guys.”

“Oh, right, sorry.”

“No worries.”

Shane looked worried.

“So..what do you want to do?” She asked him.

It didn’t seem possible, but Shane somehow managed to look even more like a deer in headlights.

“Oh..uh..do we? I mean..do..you..is it okay if..”

Rose took pity on him, “Shane, it’s okay, we don’t have to do anything. We can just hang out.”

Relief flooded his face.

They were instant friends. Shane was intelligent, thoughtful, and kind—he was an incredible friend. As they both skyrocketed to the top of their fields, they were a safe space for each other.

It only took her a couple of years to figure out that he was probably gay. And then one more year after that to gain the courage to ask him about it.

“So, Shane..”

She was the first person to hold Shane’s secret—a duty she held very close to her heart.

When he told her that he was seeing someone, and that it was serious. She screamed.

“Shane! Oh my god! Who is he? Are you in love? Is he in love? Are you guys in love?!”

When Shane dropped the second confession a few minutes later, she thought that she might actually faint.

“Ilya Rozanov?? Like the ultra-famous-and-sexy star center and captain of your rival team?!” 

“Um, yes?”

“Shane, that’s so fucking hot!”

She demanded regular updates on their relationship, and even video called with them a couple of times while they were waiting for a space in their schedules to open for an in-person meeting.

The time had finally come, and they were arriving in less than an hour.

And she was fucking nervous.

It didn’t take long for Rose and Ilya to hit it off, in fact, it took them exactly fifteen minutes to become fast friends.

“And then I dragged poor Shane into the locker room bathrooms—he was terrified!”

“I was not terrified!”

“You were, oh my god, you looked like you’d rather have been kidnapped by a serial killer than to be trapped in that bathroom with me.”

Rose and Ilya were crying with laughter. Shane rolled his eyes.

Ilya was wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes, when he said, “this sounds like very different experience than when I was first alone in bathroom with Shane.”

Shane’s face went white. Rose instantly needed to know what happened in that bathroom.

“Ooh, do tell!”

“Ilya—“ 

Shane was glaring at him. Ilya pointedly ignored him.

“Well..mm..all I will say is that I had no problem realizing that Shane was gay.”

“Because…”

“Ilya—“

Ilya grinned, “because he got hard next to me.”

“Ilya!”

Rose’s jaw dropped. And the she and Ilya burst into another round of laughter.

Shane crossed his arms and tried to look angry, but his own face split into a grin.

That night, they had dinner and drinks out on Rose’s outdoor deck. She had built a private outdoor oasis, keeping the feeling of the surrounding area of Malibu, with water features and plentiful luscious tropical foliage.

“Wow, you both have massive real estate obsessions, yes? This is incredible.” 

Rose blushed at Ilya’s compliment. What a fucking charmer. “This is my version of Shane’s cottage—my favorite place in the world.”

She paused. “Do you have something like that?”

“A favorite place?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes. I do. It is whenever I am with Shane. When we are in same place—is my favorite place in the world.”

Shane looked like he might drop onto one knee at that very moment. Rose grinned between them. 

They were obsessed with each other. Rose had hoped for nothing less, but seeing them together—with eyes only for each other—it made her heart swell.

Shane deserved to be loved like that. More than anyone she knew—he deserved a once in a lifetime kind of love. 

The next day, they lounged around the house. It was a bummer that she couldn’t take them out, but she knew why. And she would never make them feel bad about it.

And honestly, she was enjoying the time to relax.

In the mid afternoon, Shane had to take a business call, so she and Ilya were chatting on the couch.

“And Marlow is your best friend on the Raiders, right?”

“Yes. He is great guy. Shane mentioned him?”

“Oh, I know all of the characters in his life—both main and side. I take my Shane knowledge very seriously.” 

Ilya grinned at her, clearly pleased by her answer. 

“You are amazing friend for Shane. He loves you so much.”

“I love him too. So much.”

She clapped her hands, “Ilya, do you like to dance?”

—Shane—

“Okay….yup…okay. Sounds good. Bye mom.”

Shane finished his call with his management team, led by his mother. It was just routine stuff, going over the fall commercial schedule and magazine cover requests.

He heard music and laughter downstairs and smiled. 

Rose and Ilya had hit it off quickly, just as he had hoped. It made him so happy—two of his favorite people in the world, loving each other too.

This was the kind of life he always dreamt of as a kid, before he ever thought that it could happen for a boy who loves boys.

It wasn’t perfect, their love was still hidden from the world. But here, with Rose—he could love Ilya as loudly and proudly as he wanted.

He bounded down the stairs and paused as soon as he could see what the ruckus was.

Music was blasting from what he assumed to be a state-of-the-art surround sound system. Parts of it was in another language, Spanish maybe? And had an addictive drum beat and lively chorus.

Ilya and Rose were dancing beautifully together. Ilya was wearing his typical lounging clothes—a skin tight tank top and loose fitted joggers. Rose was wearing a similar outfit, but with shorts. Their bodies swayed and bounced around each other, but not with any sexual intention. They were laughing and singing along—both terribly off tune.

“And I'm crazy, but you like it—loca, loca, loca!

You like that it ain't easy—loca, loca, loca!

I'm crazy but you like it—loca, loca, loca!

Crazy but you like it!”

This was the only and only moment of Shane’s life in which he thought that it was kind of a bummer that he wasn’t bisexual. Because, damn.

He trotted up to them, laughing.

“Shane!!” They both exclaimed together, pulling him in between them. Ilya grabbed his waist and grinded their bodies together to the beat. Rose took a step back and whistled at them.

The music blasted around them, Ilya wrapped both of his large hands around Shane, guiding their hips in a sensual rotation. Shane threw his head back and closed his eyes, Ilya leaned over to kiss his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Shane had once thought that he was not capable of dancing for fun—he was usually riddled with anxiety about looking awkward and stiff.

But right now, with Ilya’s mouth on his neck and Rose twirling in circles around them—he felt loose, drunk with happiness.

And he wanted the music to never end.

Chapter End Notes

What if the first time Shane dances with Rose and Ilya, it’s one of the happiest moments of their lives? It's the fix-it to the club scene that we all deserve.

Song that Rose and Ilya were dancing to: Loca by Shakira.

P.S. Rose making the no boy/boy or girl/girl rule was not homophobic, it was purely selfish scheming in making sure she could pair up with Shane. And, she knew hockey boys well enough that she knew they would try to get the girls to pair up and it wouldn’t be fun for anyone anymore. Our Rose is pure of heart.

Chapter 20: I Bet You’ve Got a Sports Car

Chapter Notes

Russian translations in chapter end notes.

August 12, 2013 | Ottawa

—Ilya—

Today was Ilya’s birthday.

Shane was being very mysterious about his gift. He had been shifty and flushed all week.

When Ilya asked him about it, he claimed to be coming down with something. It was equal parts comical and adorable.

They woke up this morning cuddled together in their bedroom at the cottage. The sun rose gently, making Shane’s skin glow. He was flushed from laying next to Ilya’s warm body. His soft lashes brushed his cheeks. He was stunning.

His eyes fluttered open. “You are staring.” He said in his rough morning voice.

“Of course. How can I not, when you are looking so beautiful for me on my birthday?” Ilya kissed him gently, “I am luckiest man on earth.”

Shane blushed, and then replied quietly, “S dnom rozhdeniya, malysh.” 

Ilya thought that his smile might actually crack his face in half, “you have been practicing with Sveta again? Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Shane returned his smile. “I have some more phrases ready for later—” He wasn’t able to finish his thought because Ilya turned and pounced on top of him.

They spent a lazy day cuddling on the couch, watching a rom com that Shane criticized the entire time.

“I just don’t get how they didn’t exchange numbers until halfway through. That makes no sense.”

“Shane, it took me almost three years to get your number.”

“Whatever.”

They played video games, ate a delicious meal cooked by Shane on the grill, and swam in the lake. 

It was a perfect day.

Around 2pm, Shane checked his phone and suddenly jumped up from their comfortable position on the couch, pushing Ilya up the stairs. 

“Do not come out until I call!”

Ilya sat on the edge of the bed imagining the different possibilities. A delivery of flowers? His parents surprising Ilya with a visit? A rent-a-puppy service? Shane came back up, flushed and grinning.

“Okay, come on. Follow me.” He eagerly grabbed Ilya’s hand and dragged him down the stairs and through the front door. Ilya laughed at his excitement.

“Shane, is there a fire in the—” His voice died.

Sitting in Shane’s driveway was a gleaming vintage Lamborghini, sparkling under the bright afternoon sun. It was a deep orange color, with a sleek body and shining rims. The doors on both sides were open. Speechless, he looked at Shane questioningly.

Shane nodded at him, and Ilya walked towards the vehicle to look inside. The inside had polished black leather seats, deep violet upholstery lined the floor and doors, and it was impeccably preserved. 

“Do you..like it?” Shane sounded nervous.

Ilya looked at his boyfriend incredulously. “Shane, are you fucking kidding me? Where did you even get this?”

“A dealer who specializes in classic sports cars. Sveta helped me connect to him. It’s..it’s yours.”

Ilya’s jaw dropped. “You are lying. This is like..Shane this is like more than half a million dollars.”

“I might have worked out a deal to get it at a good price. A few free ad spots, I am booked up this fall.”

“No one will believe that you drive sports cars. You are too boring.”

Shane threw a key at Ilya. “Are you going to be an asshole, or do you want to drive it?” 

Ilya turned it over in his hand, his heart was beating in his ears. “Now?”

“Yes, now. If you want—”

“I want.” Ilya's heart was still pounding in his chest.

“Maybe go put on some real clothes..and shoes.” Shane grinned sheepishly.

Ilya nearly broke an ankle in his hurry to get dressed. Shane was very specific about him wearing pants with a zipper for some reason, so he had to dig them out of the bottom of his closet. At the cottage, he exclusively wore joggers, shorts, and…well, nothing.

When they finally made it back outside, they got in the car. 

Ilya turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. It was unlike any sound he had ever heard. He felt the vibration through his entire body. It was thrilling.

Shane turned to him, a grin on his face. He had to shout a bit over the sound.

“I have a second gift for you.”

“Shane, we can do more presents later. Or no presents, I don’t need anything else, this is insane.”

“It’s not an actual physical present.”

“Oh my god, Shane, please let me drive fast car now.”

“No. Not until you hear what your second gift is.”

Ilya turned to him, giving him his full attention.

“Yes, moya lyubov, I am listening.”

Shane smiled, a bit devilishly if you asked Ilya, it made his lower half heat up just a little.

“I paid to block off 140 kilometers of road, starting from the left turn out of the driveway.”

Ilya was confused, and then it dawned on him, “you paid..god knows how much..to make a private road for me to drive this insane car on?”

“Yup.”

“Detka, ty bezumna. You are insane.” He paused, letting the words replay in his head. “Why 140 kilometers? Is very specific number.”

“Because this car drives at a maximum of 280 kilometers per hour, and I needed at least 30 minutes.”

Ilya’s heart started beating faster, his mouth went dry.

“You need 30 minutes. Why.”

“When I was looking for a car, I had one big stipulation.”

“What is this—sti-pu-lation? What is this word?”

“A requirement.”

“Ah. And what was it? This requirement?”

“No center console.”

“No..center console?”

“Yes.”

Ilya thought he might die.

“Why?”

“I think you know.”

“Tell me.”

“So that there is nothing between your dick and my mouth while you drive this ridiculously sexy car 280 kilometers per hour down an empty road in rural Canada.”

Ilya gaped at him.

“Okay, that was all I needed to say. We can go now.”

Ilya’s hands didn’t move, his foot remained off the gas. His brain was seemingly offline at the moment.

He jolted back into his body when Shane grabbed his chin and pulled him in for a kiss, rolling his tongue through Ilya’s mouth and biting his lower lip. Ilya groaned.

“Hollander, you have death wish.” He whispered.

“Drive the fucking car, Rozanov.”

Ten minutes later, Ilya was speeding down an abandoned back road—while his boyfriend unzipped his pants and pulled out his painfully hard cock. 

Shane lazily stroked it, commanding Ilya’s eyes back on the road every five seconds.

And then, Shane bent over Ilya’s lap and took him deep into his mouth.

“Fuck! Blyad', ya seychas sorvus'. Blyad', o bozhe, ya tak bystro konchu.”

Ilya was unable to speak a word of English for the next three minutes. 

Shane was not merciful, he used every single trick that made Ilya gasp and moan. But every time Ilya took his eyes off of the road, he pulled off. “Eyes on the road, detka.”

Finally, Ilya’s concern about crashing became much too real, when he swerved slightly as Shane swirled his tongue relentlessly around the tip of Ilya’s cock, his hand stroking up and down, coated by the wetness left by Shane’s mouth.

It was all too much. Ilya slowed down and pulled over on the side of the road. He threw his head back and arched his back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He came, maybe harder than he had in his entire life. His entire body glistened with sweat, his heartbeat was harshly pounding in his chest.

His vision was blurred and dark around the edges. He couldn’t hear the hum of the engine over his own ragged breaths.

“Fuck, lyubimaya….chem ya zasluzhil tebya?..Shane…how do I…how do I deserve you?” He was still out of breath, heaving, his voice tight and raspy.

Shane grinned at him.

“Happy birthday, solnyshko.”

Chapter End Notes

Detka, ty bezumna. = Baby, you are insane.
Blyad', ya seychas sorvus'. Blyad', o bozhe, ya tak bystro konchu. = Fuck, I will crash. Fuck, oh my god, I am going to come so fast.
Detka = “baby,” used for a romantic/sexual partner.
Fuck, lyubimaya, chem ya zasluzhil tebya? = Fuck, my love, what did I do to deserve you?
Solnyshko = sunshine

Ilya talks a big game, but we all know who the real freak is.

Did I do extensive research on the best sports cars to give blow jobs in? Yes. Absolutely. Putting my research-based university degree to excellent use. Apparently newer sports cars are not great because they have large center consoles. But classic cars have more space. I looked at several different makes/models, and the 1967 Lamborghini Miura has a gorgeous exterior and interior, and the seats are curved back—with a big open space between the front seats and a limited center console. It looked like the best option.

Sports car visuals:
Exterior: https://bit.ly/4e9GSw5

Interior: https://bit.ly/4bW04Mu

Do I recommend blow jobs in cars, NO for the love of god do not risk your life. Shane is an idiot in love.

Also—for the purposes of this fic, Ilya is born in August, and Shane is born in September—because they are obviously a Leo + Virgo power couple.

Chapter 21: I Just Want to Live in this Moment Forever

Chapter Notes

September 8, 2013 | Montreal

—Ilya—

Ilya was nervous. No, he felt like he was going to vomit. No, actually, he felt like he might be having a heart attack—he pulled out his phone to start researching symptoms when—

“Oh my god! Holy fucking shit! You scared the shit out of me. I almost had a heart attack.”

“Do you have a ‘squeezing or fullness in your chest’?” Ilya had just read that one on a website called DoctorNow.

“What? No..what?” Shane took a step towards where Ilya was sitting at the dining table. “What the fuck, Ilya. I thought you couldn’t come today? We were going to—”

“I fly back tonight.” Ilya got up to walk over to Shane, pulling him in for a hug, “S dnom rozhdeniya, moya lyubov', moyo vsol. Happy birthday, my angel.”

Shane whispered, overcome by emotion, “you are insane. You are actually insane. Did you really fly two hours to spend, what an hour? With me for my birthday?”

“Actually, three hours.”

“You are taking a red eye. On a game day. How will you even play?”

“I packed two Red Bull and three—what is it called, Six Hours Awake?”

“5-Hour Energy.”

“Yes, I will have the energy of fifteen hours.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“Mm, agree to disagree.”

Shane leaned in to kiss him slowly, sighing into it, and growing the intensity of the kiss after a moment by pushing past Ilya’s lips with his tongue. He started to grind their hips together, seeking friction.

Ilya pulled away, out of breath already. “No..no..stop stop. First your present. If we start that, we will never leave this room.”

Shane groaned, “it’s been—”

“It has been one week, I think we will survive another thirty minutes of not sucking each other’s dicks.”

“You’re a dick.” But Shane was grinning, leaning in for another sweet kiss.

“Come see your present, solnyshko.” Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and walked him up to the primary suite upstairs.

His nerves had dissipated when he saw Shane, but now they came rushing back, pounding in his ears. 

He had bought Shane’s present long before Shane shocked him with a fucking vintage sports car and blow job at 280 kph. Now his gift would look pathetic in comparison. 

After spending a few hours researching alternatives—like how long it would take to build a second ice skating rink for his cottage, you know, just in case he wanted two—he gave up and decided to stick with his original plan.

He was praying that Shane would like it, when—

“Oh. My. God. Ilya…” Shane stopped at the entrance to the room, gaping at the wall that faced his bed.

“Do you..do you like it? It’s not a six hundred thousand dollar car, but..”

“It’s..wow.” Shane walked into the room, moving closer to the wall. “Ilya. When? This looks like it must’ve taken..”

Ilya stood back at the doorway, shifting his body back and forth nervously. “I had it commissioned in beginning of the year. A local Ottawa artist. He is..he is gay. He specializes in landscape paintings. I saw one of his pieces at an art show Sveta took me to last year. It made me think of you—all of the calm colors.” Ilya was rambling now, he wanted Shane to know why this was special—that it meant something.

“He doesn’t normally do commissions, but I reached out to him privately. Luckily, he happens to be a hockey fan and decided to do it for me. I didn’t tell him..I didn’t mention anything about who you are or anything. Or that I was purchasing this for my boyfriend. But I think he kind of knew, because when he asked about the...when I told him to..because of the—“

“Because of the loons?” Shane was just inches away from the paintings now, taking in every small detail.

“Yes. The loons..they are both—“

“Male. Two male loons. Doing a mating dance.” Shane looked at Ilya in awe. “Ilya.”

The paintings on the wall were a horizontal series of four panels. Each one was 36 x 48 inches, but instead of traditional canvases, they were painted on wood panels, raised about an inch away from the wall.

The paintings created a panoramic view from the lake outside of Shane’s—their—cottage. 

The far left panel featured the tall trees of the surrounding wooded area. The second panel swept across to the sparkling lake—with the dock centered. The third panel was a continuation of the lake, with two male loons dancing in the glow of a sunrise. The fourth panel ended back in the luscious forest, creating a seamless loop as Shane’s eyes tracked back and forth across the wall.

The colors were gorgeous shades of pink, yellow, orange, and green—Ilya had asked for the setting to be at sunrise. Ilya wanted Shane to think of their quiet moments wrapped up in each other on the dock, watching the sun rising across the glimmering lake. 

It was truly incredible work, the artist really outdid himself. He and Ilya spoke for a few hours about what Ilya was looking for. The artist asked him a lot of questions to ensure that the paintings would be perfect. 

“Is this for someone special to you?”

“Ah..yes. But I cannot say—“

“That’s perfectly okay. Me knowing that it is a gift, it changes how I paint.”

“How?”

“The energy. I can’t explain it. If I know there is love behind the request, it is reflected in the feeling of the painting.”

“Wow. That is..that is amazing.”

“Tell me a little about this person. You don’t have to give any details that might reveal who they are.”

“H—um, they..they are my entire world. When we are together, I am wishing every time that I could stop time. To stay in the moment forever.”

Ilya had been given a rare gift of getting to talk about Shane with someone completely outside of their world—it was exhilarating. Once he started speaking, the words just wouldn’t stop coming.

“This person is the only person I’ve ever loved. I want to spend the rest of my life with them. I wake up—and think of them. I am falling asleep every night picturing their face. Every minute of every day. I am thinking of the next moment we will be together.”

The artist spoke again, interjecting to clarify—“you are long distance?”

“Yes. From beginning. For many years.”

“That sounds very hard. When there is so much love between you.”

“Is hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I have not had an easy life.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Is okay. Is worth it. For hi..for them. To be with..them.”

The artist then asked some more basic questions about Shane.

“Where is their favorite place?”

“Outdoors. We have..we spend our summers at..we go to..”

“Are you trying to tell me something that you cannot really say without revealing too much?”

“Yes.” Ilya sighed. “This is very difficult.”

“How about I ask some rapid fire questions, if anything is too revealing, you simply say ‘pass’ and I will move on.”

“Okay. I like this.”

“Perfect. Let’s start with something easy. What is their favorite color?”

“I think blue. But that is more for boring sheets. To look at, I think soft colors. Like found in nature. Orange, purple  green.”

“You’re doing great, Ilya. Next question, what is their favorite time of day?”

“Sunrise.”

“Do they prefer outdoors or indoors?”

“Outdoors. In..forest kind of. On lake.”

“Perfect. This is perfect. Do they have a favorite animal?”

“Loon. Stupid Canadian bird. Makes ridiculous sounds.”

“Ah yes, I’m familiar.” The artist smiled a little, apparently amused by Ilya’s juxtaposition of sappy romantic words and sassy remarks about his partner.

“Final question—what kind of feeling do you want them to have when they look at the paintings?”

“Home. I want it to feel like coming home.”

“Ilya. Wow. I wish for everyone to be loved like this. Okay, I have enough information. Here is what I am thinking—“

The artist then described what was now displayed on Shane’s wall. And then, he hesitated.

“You can pass on this one, but I want to ask anyway because it’s important. If I were to paint..two loons…mated loons..should they be..would you like—“

“Male. Two male loons. Dancing. Dancing together.”

“Understood. I will do everything in my power to do your vision justice, Ilya.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

Ilya was more nervous than ever. He had to know for sure, “you..you like it? You really like it? You’re not just saying—“

But he couldn’t finish his sentence, because Shane ran and lunged at Ilya—jumping up for Ilya to catch him, as if he were a tiny ballerina and not a massive hockey player.

Shane wrapped his thighs around Ilya’s waist.

“It’s perfect. You are perfect. Ya lyublyu tebya, lyubimaya.”

Shane kissed him with passion, and then he said, “Uvedi menya v postel', zaymis' so mnoy lyubov'yu.”

And Ilya wished that he could live in that moment forever.

Chapter End Notes

S dnom rozhdeniya, moya lyubov', moyo vso. = Happy birthday, my love, my everything.

Solnyshko = sunshine

Ya lyublyu tebya, lyubimaya. = I love you, sweetheart

Uvedi menya v postel', zaymis' so mnoy lyubov'yu. = take me to bed, make love to me.

....
I made myself cry like three times writing this one. I love their love. How they express their love for each other is just so beautiful to explore. I really like the idea of how well they know what the other would like, and how they go above and beyond for each other.

Pining, yearning, long distance—it is all too much.

Chapter 22: Christmas with the Hollanders

Chapter Notes

December 22, 2013 | Ottawa

—Ilya—

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas paaArttyy!

Mistletoe hung all over the house, everyone is kiiiiSsssingg!

Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, it is happy holidaaAAaayyYy!

Everyone is happy dancing in old fashion WAAAAYYYYYY!”

Ilya had been belting out Christmas songs, with his own interpretations of the lyrics, for about an hour while he and David decorated the Christmas tree at Shane’s parent’s house in Ottawa.

Shane was doubling over in laughter, and would interject occasionally to critique Ilya’s lyrical choices. 

“I think you are missing a few words, and I am pretty sure it’s ‘merrily dancing’ not ‘happy dancing’.”

“Mm, I am pretty sure is happy dancing.” Ilya crossed his arms and pretended to be annoyed.

“I would have to agree with Ilya on this one, Shane. He indeed looks very happy while dancing around our Christmas tree.” David grinned at them both.

“How is it looking in here?” Yuna had walked in, carrying two steaming mugs of spiked hot chocolate. She paused for a moment, taking in Ilya and David’s work.

“Wow, that is really..something.” She was clearly trying to suppress a laugh. 

Ilya looked at the tree in confusion, “is not okay?”

Shane and Yuna were both trying not to laugh now, and David winked at Ilya, “there are a few more ornaments than usual—but I love it. It is our most festive tree yet.”

“I just put all of the ones from the box.” Ilya’s face fell a little.

Shane saw Ilya’s expression and his own smile dropped, replaced with a softly smitten look, “Ilya, it’s perfect. It’s perfect.” He walked over to hold Ilya from behind, clasping his hands around his waist and leaning his head on Ilya’s back. “You make everything perfect.”

Yuna and David exchanged a look. Ilya thought that they both might have tried to discreetly wipe away tears, but he might have been seeing things—because his own eyes were glistening.

They all sat together on the large well-loved couch, the room had gone dark with the setting sun, and the glow of the tree was the only source of light. The beautiful tree was drooping heavily from top to bottom, covered in about two hundred ornaments.

It was perfect.

December 25th

“Ooh, my turn!” Yuna clapped her hands together. “I want to open mine from Ilya.”

“Oh, uh..yes. Of course…but, um. You must all open at once.” Ilya’s heart was pounding, why did he feel like he was going to die every time he gave a Hollander a gift?

Yuna, David, and Shane all looked at Ilya with the same curious and expectant look—Ilya thought he might want the ground to open and swallow him whole.

He walked over to a large festive bag, and pulled out three wrapped rectangular shaped flat packages.

He had them professionally wrapped, after he quickly realized that he was out of his element with the whole folding and measuring process of Christmas present wrapping. Ilya was pretty sure that the little old lady at the Christmas shop took one look at his fancy watch and his expression of panicked desperation, and overcharged him by about four times her normal rate. It made him very happy, and he hoped that the tiny scheming grandma was having a wonderful Christmas day right now, hopefully surrounded by about fifteen sticky grandchildren. 

Ilya handed each Hollander a package and continued standing, waiting for them to open their gifts.

Yuna was the fastest, tearing it open with an almost terrifying intensity.

“Oh, Ilya. Where did you even…” She gasped, and stroked the black and white photo that was centered classily by a decorative plain cream mat, which served as the photo’s border in a large birch frame.

David tried to speak, but his voice caught and his words came out haltingly, “son, wow. Thank you. This is, wow.”

Shane looked between them, his own package was only halfway open. He finished pulling off the paper and audibly gasped.

Ilya had found a photo of Yuna and David in one of the albums in their cottage. He had it printed in black and white and framed it in white birch wood that was sourced from a fallen tree from Shane’s cottage. He had a local carpenter come and pick it up and carve unique frames for each person. With a small engraving on the bottom with the month of Shane’s birth. September 1991.

The photo was taken when Yuna was pregnant with Shane. Ilya guessed that the photo must have been taken right before Yuna gave birth, because she was very pregnant. 

It was a candid photo, probably taken by a friend at a party. They were dancing, David was holding Yuna’s hand above their heads, spinning her around. Yuna was wearing a beautiful flowy dress that clearly showed her baby bump. They were both laughing, grinning at each other, smitten—deeply in love and thrilled about the soon-arrival of their son.

“Ilya…” Shane finally spoke.

The three Hollanders were looking at Ilya with shimmering eyes. Ilya wasn’t sure if it was a good thing.

When the silence continued, his nerves couldn’t let it go on any longer. He cleared his throat.

“I, uh. I know it’s not much..” Ilya looked down at his feet. “You are all so obsessed with each other. I have never seen a family that loves..that loves each other so much.” 

He cleared his throat again. “I saw the photo in album here. It..it made me smile. I thought maybe you would like it too.”

Yuna turned to her son, “Shane, honey, how do you say thank you in Russian?”

Shane’s voice was soft, reverent, “Uh, it’s spasibo.”

“Spa-see-bo, Ilya. Thank you.”

The rest of the evening was spent opening gifts and finishing three glasses of hot chocolate each.

David gave Yuna a delicate gold necklace with a pendant, “thank you, honey, I love it!” 

Shane gave his parents an all-expenses-paid trip to Paris, “oh, baby, you shouldn’t have! David, we can go to that patisserie that we went to on our honeymoon!” 

Yuna gave David a five thousand piece puzzle, and tickets to a match in the FIFA World Cup happening next June. “Sweetheart, this must have cost an arm and a leg!” Yuna winked at Shane, and Ilya guessed that she had used some of the same superhuman persuasion skills that Shane had activated for Ilya’s sports car in the summer.

When Yuna pulled out their gifts for Shane and Ilya, the boxes were very small and thin.

“It seems like we had the same idea, Ilya.” She said as she handed them both a box.

Inside was a sleek metal disc, the size and shape of a credit card. Printed on one side was a photo of Ilya and Shane that David had taken at Thanksgiving. They were dressed in pajamas and were cuddling on Shane’s parents couch at their home in the city. They were laughing, staring at each other with deep affection and love.

“I didn’t realize you were even taking a photo of us.” Shane turned the metal card over in his hand. On the back side, it had a quote:

“To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved is everything.”

“It is a Japanese saying that my parents used to say to me, aisuru koto wa nanimo arimasen. aisareru koto wa nanika ga arimasu. demo, aisurukoto to aisareru koto wa subete desu.” 

She hesitated, “it’s not a framed photo, I know that you can’t..well, it’s…you can put it in your wallets. To carry a piece of each other, no matter the distance between you.”

Ilya and Shane looked at each other with blurry eyes, Ilya’s heart felt like it was going to split open.

“Thank you—“ Ilya’s voice was rough, “thank you, Yuna..David, thank you.”

Finally, it was Shane’s turn to give Ilya his present. 

“Honey, do you want to give Ilya his gift?” Yuna asked, pointedly looking around the now-empty ground surrounding the tree.

Shane blushed and looked at Ilya when he responded, “I..uh, your present is at home. Back at the cottage.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, as did Yuna and David. Which made Shane face turn an even darker shade of beet red.

“Not like that, you guys are gross.”

They all burst out into laughter, taking turns teasing Shane about what he had planned for later.

Chapter End Notes

Spasibo = thank you

Ahhhh, I will forever have a soft spot for Yuna’s favorite son moments. What does Shane have planned for Ilya?? I won’t keep you hanging.

Chapter 23: I Need Your Love

Chapter Notes

—Ilya—

When they parked in front of the cottage, Shane told Ilya to wait in the car.

The last time that Shane told Ilya to wait for him, Shane had purchased a vintage sports car and gave Ilya a blow job in it—so Ilya really didn’t know what to expect. A private jet to the Maldives? An exclusive concert from a pop star? Knowing Shane, the sky was the limit.

The man in question had run back to the car at that very moment, a bit breathlessly, he said, “okay, you can come in now. Just wait for like twenty seconds to come in after me.” And then he was gone again, sprinting back inside.

Ilya grinned, shaking his head. He counted to thirty, just for good measure, and then walked inside.

A soft song was playing on the speakers.

"Whoa, my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch

A long, lonely time

And time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine?

I need your love"

It took Ilya’s eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, when they did, he took in the scene before him.

The cottage's entrance was filled with flickering candles of various shapes and sizes. It made the room smell pleasantly of smoke and vanilla. The light danced around the darkened room, illuminating dozens of extremely large bouquets of red and white roses placed closely together throughout the space. Two lines of candles, standing about two feet apart, created a pathway to the living room.

Ilya’s heart was pounding in his chest. His throat was dry.

The music swelled around him.

“Wait for me, wait for me

I'll be coming home

Wait for me”

He took tentative steps forward, past hundreds of roses and candles. Through the soft dancing light, with the crescendo of the song beating through his ears.

“I need your love

I need your love

God speed your love to me”

Ilya made it to the entrance of the living room and was faced by a scene that he would remember for the rest of his life.

Shane was on one knee. Tears already in his eyes. His beautiful face was illuminated by the flickering candlelight. He was holding a small box in his right hand, and was reaching out his left hand towards Ilya.

“Moya lyubov, what is this?” He couldn’t speak above a whisper. Ilya walked over to take Shane’s hand, clasping it tightly, as if to prove that this was really happening. Ilya looked down at Shane's face, which was showing an expression of pure devotion and deep emotion. It made Ilya's heartbeat echo through his ears.

Shane closed his eyes, as if conjuring up his next words from deep within his heart.

Then he began to speak.

“S togo samogo mgnoveniya, kak ya vpervyye tebya uvidela... Ne prokhodilo ni dnya, chtoby ya ne dumala o tebe. I ya ne khochu, chtoby proshel khot' odin den', kotoryy ne nachinalsya by i ne zakanchivalsya myslyami o tebe. Ty nauchil menya lyubit'. Ty pokazal mne, kakovo eto — byt' schastlivoy.

Ty — moy dom. Ya khochu provesti s toboy ostatok nashikh zhizney. Poka nashi volosy ne posedeyut, a koleni ne stanut slabymi. Ya khochu sozdat' s toboy sem'yu. Ya khochu sporit' o tom, kto poslednim myl posudu i ch'ya ochered' ubirat'sya v vannoy.

Ya khochu vmeste puteshestvovat' po miru; ya khochu, chtoby v kazhdom priklyuchenii moyey zhizni ty byl ryadom. Ya khochu ispytat' vso eto. Ya khochu obresti vso eto. Vmeste s toboy.”

Tears were streaming down Ilya’s face as the Russian words filled his body with warmth, a feeling of love washed over him, so powerful that it felt like he might levitate off of the ground. The sound of his mother’s language, being spoken by the love of his life, it was all too much.

Ilya fell to his knees, taking Shane’s hands in his own. The action made Shane lose what little control he had left, and he choked out his last words.

“Il'ya Rozanov, ty vyydesh' za menya? Will you marry me? Marry me and make me the happiest man on the planet. Marry me.” A tear spilled across Shane’s lower lashes and trickled down his check.

Ilya couldn’t speak. He tried to get the word out, but his brain felt like it was full of sand. His throat felt like it was full of cotton. It was only when Shane said “Ilya, please, please say something.” That he was able to find the word.

“Da. Yes. Fucking yes. Yes, I will marry you.”

The music continued to float around them, as they embraced each other—kneeling on the ground, swaying to the sounds of their ragged breathing mixed with the swelling melody.

“Lonely rivers flow

To the sea, to the sea

To the open arms of the sea

Lonely rivers sigh

Wait for me, wait for me

I'll be coming home, wait for me”

Chapter End Notes

Da = yes

Proposal song: Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers

Shane’s proposal:

From the first moment I laid eyes on you. Not a day went by where I didn't think of you. And I don't want a day to pass that does not begin and end with you on my mind. You taught me how to love. You taught me what happiness feels like.

You are my home. I want to spend the rest of our lives together. Until our hair is gray and our knees are frail. I want to have a family with you. I want to fight about who did the dishes last, and who's turn it is to clean the bathroom.

I want to travel the world together, I want to spend every adventure of my life with you by my side. I want to do it all. I want to have it all. With you.

Ilya Rozanov, will you marry me?

This was my favorite thing to write. I cried one million times. I hope you all like it ❤️

Chapter 24: I’ll Have You Gone

Chapter Notes

Spring, 2014 | Boston

—Ilya—

“Dude! What?! No fucking way, man. Congratu-fucking-lations, wow. I’m so happy for you guys.”

Ilya beamed, “thank you. We are very happy.”

“So much for ‘Russians do not do this’, you’re straight up red in the face, Roz!” 

Marlow was cracking up, giddy with the news that his best friend on the team was engaged to Shane. “Wow, Shane mother-fucking Hollander..what the fuck, fucking hell. Wow.”

“He wants to meet you.”

“I believe that ship has sailed, I’ve slammed him against the boards about a hundred times—last time was like five days ago.”

“Fuck off. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah dude, I do.” 

Marlow then laughed again, “man, this is something. Fuck, Rozzy, you sure know how to land ‘em!” He shook his head and spoke more to himself than Ilya. “Shane mother-fucking Hollander…I’ll be damned.”

Ilya waited for Marlow to collect his thoughts.

“When is the wedding?”

“Ah, well..see. We don’t know when we can..if the league will..”

A shadow crossed over Marlow’s face, “oh shit..yeah. How will you guys, you know? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. We haven’t talked about that part, is shitty part, yes? Not very fun topic.”

“Yeah man, wow, that’s hard.”

Marlow’s mood dampened a bit. But then a thought seemed to dawn on him. “Hey, but what about your Montreal chick? Jane? You haven’t been..you know..cheating?” He looked horrified, “have I been an accomplice?”

Ilya grinned and then laughed, “Marlow you are such an idiot.”

“Hey! I’m looking out for my new boy, Shane. This Jane girl—“ a look of recognition came over his face, “waaaiit, Jane. Shane. Montreal Jane. Metros Shane. Oh my—“

Ilya was doubled over in laughter now.

“Keep going, I think you’re almost there.”

“Holy fucking shit, Shane Hollander is your Montreal girl.” Marlow whistled, “I need to rethink every memory I have from the past..wait, how long has this been going on?”

“Since end of rookie year.”

Marlow gasped, “three years dude? You’ve been dating Shane Hollander for three years?”

“Yes.”

“The whole time.”

“The whole time.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“He thought that you were cheating? On me. He thought that you were cheating on me.”

“Yes, was hilarious.”

“Hm. Yeah, so funny.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Shane. That is not your ‘nothing’ voice. And every time you say this, ‘nothing,’ it is in fact a big something.”

“I just think it’s interesting.”

“Mm? What is?”

“That his mind went there.”

“To where? Oh my god, Hollander, please speak in words I understand. Is very late.”

“To cheating. Why did he immediately think that you would cheat on me?”

“I don’t know. Lots of guys in MHL do this. They cheat at away games. Is disgusting.”

“Mhm.”

“Shane? Are you..are you asking if I gave Marlow reason to think I would cheat?”

“Like I said, it’s just interesting.”

“I will go crazy if you say interesting one more time.” Ilya threw his hands up, “when the fuck would I have time to cheat? Every free moment I have is spent with you.”

Shane huffed, “mhm, yeah. Okay. Fine.”

Ilya grinned, “you know that you are jealous of yourself? You are angry Marlow thought I was cheating with Jane—when you are Jane.” He grinned, “Shane you are crazy, I love it.”

“Whatever.” Shane narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “But if you ever get any ideas—“

“I won’t.”

“—if you ever do, decide to cheat on me. I just think you should know that I will set fire to your entire life. I will arson your fucking fancy cars, I will burn your Boston house down, I will drag you into the street, tear the clothes off your back, soak them in gasoline, and set them on fire.” Shane spoke each word in a tone that sent chills down Ilya’s spine.

“Moy pugayushchiy vozlyublennyy, ya oderzhima toboy. Shane, you scare the shit out of me.”

“Good.” Shane seemed to be satisfied with Ilya’s response, “now, come fuck me.”

Shane was particularly feisty that night. Seemingly working out some anger over Ilya’s hypothetical cheating..with himself. It was very confusing, but mostly extremely sexy, because Shane insisted on riding Ilya—showing no mercy as he thrust himself up and down, slamming his thighs down on either side of Ilya’s waist.

“Fuck..detka..fff….you will break me.”

Instead of slowing down, Shane leaned down to bite Ilya’s lower lip—hard. Ilya groaned and bucked his hips up. “Chort, detka, ty menya ub'yosh’…you will..kill me….fu..ck..mm..ffuck..”

Ilya tried to flip Shane over, but Shane slapped his hand away. “No. Like this. You come like this.”

He slowed down, rolling his hips back and forth like he was at the fucking rodeo. Ilya threw his head back to watch him. 

Shane’s body was glistening with sweat, his lips were swollen from Ilya’s biting, his nipples were raw from Ilya’s earlier torture, his muscles rippled with every rotation of his hips—he looked positively sinful.

Ilya’s pleasure was crashing over him in waves. It would crescendo, coming close to climax, but then Shane would slow down to prevent his release. “Please, fuck…Shane..Day mne konchit', mne nuzhno konchit'. Let me come. Please.”

“Net. Ty ne konchish', poka ya ne skazhu. You will not come yet. You will wait.”

Shane sped up again, this time bracing one of his hands on the back of the headboard, and using the other to pin Ilya’s wrists above his head. Ilya slammed his head back, groaning almost painfully. His entire body was shaking, sore from the torture of edging close to finishing only to be denied again and again.

Shane continued his relentless pace until Ilya was begging again, in Russian and broken English, and a mix of words that didn’t sound like anything. “Krasivyy..please..please..I cannot..”

Shane decided to finally show Ilya some mercy. “You can move now. Fuck me. But you make me come first.”

Ilya groaned, it came out ruined and guttural. He raised his hips to meet Shane’s unforgiving rhythm, he tested Shane’s grip on his wrists, and when he allowed Ilya to reclaim his hands, he brought them to grab the flesh of Shane’s ass and slam them even harder together. 

Shane moaned and grabbed Ilya’s neck with his now free hand. Not fully choking, but putting enough pressure to make Ilya see stars.

“Touch me.” Shane’s voice was rough and undone.

Ilya obeyed and stroked Shane, once, twice—“ffff..mm..fuck Ilya..fuck..”

Shane came hard, painting Ilya’s chest. He swiped his thumb through it and pushed it past Ilya’s lips. The filthy act sent Ilya over the edge. When he came, Shane squeezed hard on his neck, causing him to black out in pleasure.

When Ilya came back into himself, he was still inside of Shane, who was panting—his chest heaving with ragged breaths. His eyes were locked onto Ilya’s.

His eyes were dark, terrifyingly beautiful in their intensity. His cheeks were flushed red. A sheen of sweat covered his entire body.

“Ty tak prekrasna. Ty tak prekrasna i uzhasna.”

You are so beautiful. You are so beautiful and terrifying.

Chapter End Notes

Don't fuck with Canada's golden boy.

Translations:
Moy pugayushchiy vozlyublennyy, ya oderzhima toboy. = my terrifying lover, I am obsessed with you

Detka = baby, used by lovers

Chort, detka, ty menya ub'yosh'. = fuck, baby, you are going to kill me

Day mne konchit', mne nuzhno konchit'. = let me come, I need to come

Net. Ty ne konchish', poka ya ne skazhu. = no. you will not come until I say

Ty tak prekrasna. Ty tak prekrasna i uzhasna.= you are beautiful. you are beautiful and terrifying

Chapter 25: I’m Just a Kid

Chapter Notes

[FLASHBACK] Spring, 2003 | Ottawa

—Shane—

“Hollander! Come over here.”

Shane’s heart sunk, he saw his coach motioning from across the ice. What was it now? The last time that Coach Beckers called him over, it was to scold him about not waiting for his linemates to catch up to him during plays.

Skidding up to the wall, he looked up expectantly at his coach, “yes, coach?”

“Today, I want you on right wing. Smith is going to take center.” Coach Beckers sighed, “you can’t keep on doing what you’re doing, buddy. I want you to learn how to pace. It’s not just you out on the ice.”

“But, coach..”

“No buts. If I see an improvement, I will think about moving you back to center next week.”

“Next week? But that’s—”

“Get back out on the ice, son. We’re done here.”

Shane’s vision was blurry, which frustrated him. Why did he feel like he was punched in the stomach every time his coach gave him feedback? It wasn’t a bad thing, he did need to learn how to pace with the other boys. They were just so slow. It infuriated Shane. Every time he looked over for Smith or Johnson, they were at least ten feet behind him. It pissed him off. 

Why should he be the one punished?

“What did coach want, honey?” Yuna Hollander was staring expectantly at Shane. “I saw him call you over today.”

The Hollander family was sat at the dining table having dinner. Shane had been pushing his peas back and forth on his plate for the entire meal. His eyes stayed glued to the motion of his fork. When his mother spoke, he did not look up while answering.

“He is putting me on right wing for the rest of the week.”

“What?!” Yuna was instantly appalled, “that bastard—”

“Language!”

“What, David? Do you not agree? Beckers has always had it out for him. I am going to immediately start looking into alternatives for next year. Shane is not being valued on this team.”

“Honey, he is twelve years old, this is not the MLH.” Shane’s father always tried to keep the peace. Which was difficult when his wife always ran at 200% capacity, and his son’s hyperfixation—since he was four years old—was becoming the best hockey player in the world.

“Yes, but he will be in the MLH in just six years, every season counts.”

“Mom, it’s okay. I will do my best at right wing, he said I can go back to center if I can learn to pace with the other guys.”

“He said that? That you need to learn how to pace with those slow idiots?”

“Yuna! That’s enough for now. Let’s all cool off a little.” David released a slow breath, “Shane, buddy, you are the best player in your age group—and probably better than most guys in the minor league, no matter their age. But your career will be long. It is good to learn how to work with others. To be adaptable.”

Shane finally looked up, he was humiliated to feel droplets gathering on his lashes. Yuna saw his face and immediately softened her tone.

“Oh..oh honey, I am sorry. Baby, it’s okay. This is not a big deal. I am sorry for reacting so angrily. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

She reached over to put her hand on top of her husband’s. “Your dad is right, learning to play well with others—this will be very important for you. Being the fastest, being the smartest—it will only get you so far. Being the best comes with big responsibilities. You will be the best player in the world one day, but your career will only ever be as strong as your team.”

Shane nodded, a lump stuck in his throat, “but..how do I..” he let out a frustrated sound, his eyes dropped back down to his plate. He felt his breath speeding up, in-out-in-out. He focused on trying not to let the wetness in his eyes leak down across his cheeks. 

“I don’t know how..the other guys on the team. They..they have something I don’t. They..understand each other. In a way I don’t.”

Yuna’s own eyes were shimmering, as were David's. Their faces displayed the grief that parents of talented but misunderstood kids feel in moments like these. In moments where their child reveals just a fraction of the pain they carry.

Shane tried to continue on, his voice breaking. “They have jokes with each other that I don’t understand. They call me..they call me things.” He raised his eyes to stare at the wall behind his parents, it was covered in photos of him throughout the years. Some were just of himself and others were team photos.

“Shane, buddy, smile! Guys, guys, stand closer together. Shane, son, please stand closer to the group. Okay everyone, say cheese!”

Why was everyone obsessed with telling Shane what to do? Where to stand. What the right way to smile was. What to say. What to feel.

“How am I supposed to be a leader if they don’t want me to lead? How am I supposed to know what to say, if they won’t even let me speak?”

Yuna was too emotional to respond, her heart was stuck painfully in the base of her throat. She looked desperately at her husband.

“Buddy, leadership is not about everyone liking you. In fact, the best leaders don’t lead to be popular—they lead because they have passion. Because they have something to offer the world that no one else does.” 

He paused, squeezing Yuna’s hand, “and Shane, you have more to offer to the world than anyone I know. You are special, kiddo. Not because you’re fast, or strong, or talented—because you are you. Be true to who you are. Don’t try to be someone else. Don’t try to fit into a mold too small to contain what makes you special. What makes you, you.”

Shane took a deep breath, “okay, dad. I will try hard. I will do my best.”

“We know you will, Shane.” Yuna said with firm confidence. “You have never given less than 100%, since before you could even walk.”

“We love you, Shane.” David added. “We love you. Not for who you are as ‘ Hollander.’ You are our son, nothing can ever change how we feel about you.” 

He reached out to touch Shane for the first time, lightly placing his hand on Shane’s shoulder.

“Win or lose, Shane—our love for you remains the same.”

[FLASHBACK] Spring, 2003 | Moscow

—Ilya—

“Rozanov, come here!”

Ilya’s heart stopped. Coach Kuznetsov was a cruel man, and he seemed to hate Ilya. He never had a kind word for him. Every time he singled him out, it was to humiliate—to make him feel small.

“Yes, sir?”

“What the hell are you doing out there? I have seen grandmothers who skate faster than you, babies who shoot better.”

“I am sorry, sir. I will try harder.”

“You fucking better, or I am removing you from center.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go practice your shots, I want one hundred pucks to go into a net before you leave today.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Ilya shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for his dismissal. 

“What the fuck are you still doing here?”

“Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Ilya skated back towards the nets, his heart pounding, a lump forming in his throat that felt like acid.

“Mama, I am home!”

Ilya toed off his shoes, and threw his hockey bag into his room. Irena Rozanova appeared in the doorway.

“Ilyusha, my sunshine, how was practice today?”

Ilya’s face fell, but he tried to hide how he was feeling, “it was fine, mama. Nothing different than usual.”

Irena raised an eyebrow and walked over to kneel in front of her son.

“My love, what happened? Why is your beautiful face full of sadness today?”

“It is nothing.”

“Ilyusha, do not lie to your mother. Every lie pokes me in the side like a thorn, it is very painful, I much prefer when you give me petals instead.” She playfully nudged Ilya on his shoulder. “Come on, sunshine, what is it?”

“Coach, he made me run shooting drills for five hours straight today. He said that I…that I am slow. And bad. I..I was trying. I need to..I need to..”

“Ack, that bastard.”

“Mama!”

“He is! That asshole does not appreciate my genius son. He should be following you around the rink, kissing the ice you skate on.” She grinned and made kissing sounds.

Ilya laughed, cracking his first smile of the day.

“Ah, there is my beautiful boy.” Irena smiled softly at him.

“Ilyusha, many people in your life will try to tell you who you are. But you know whose voice is the only one that matters?”

“No, mama.”

“Yours. Your own voice. It is the only one you need to listen to. Listen to what your heart says. Be kind. Be good. Try your best. People who try to tear you down, they do not deserve the best of you.”

Irena steadied herself, grabbing Ilya’s chin gently so that he met her eyes. “My sunshine, you have the talent of men twenty years older. You are special. You are one-of-a-kind. People will see that, they will see how good you are—and their jealousy will turn them rotten. But listen, are you listening?”

“Yes, mama.”

“You do not let them in. You protect the strength inside of you. That is only yours. No one can destroy it, unless you let them. You are strong, my son. You are special.”

“What if I am not as strong as you say? You are my mama, you have to say nice things to me.”

“Pfff, no I don’t! You could be a massive loser. You could be ugly and horrible.” She stuck out her tongue and made a funny face. “I thank god every day that he gave me the most beautiful, sweet, sensitive, talented, intelligent, and wonderful son in the world.” 

Irena pulled Ilya into a tight hug, placing her head on top of his messy curls.

“I love you, Ilyusha. I am so proud of you. Always. I will always be so proud of you. No matter what you become, no matter what you do—I will always be proud of you.”

Chapter End Notes

To be loved unconditionally by a parent is a rare and precious thing. My heart goes out to all of us who have never had that kind of love—we are still worthy, we are still special, we are still strong. <3

Chapter 26: Oh Captain, My Captain

Chapter Notes

Hockey inaccuracies are probably riddled throughout this entire chapter, I have literally never even seen a game. Everything I know about the sport is from the HR universe. And I didn't want to learn sports for this.

I apologize profusely to the real hockey fans of the world—you can skip this chapter, I won't be hurt!! XD XD XD

Late Spring, 2014 | Stanley Cup Final | Montreal

“Jerry, the Stanley Cup Final is intense every year, but this year we have a celebrity-level captain leading a team, which is proving to bring extraordinary attention to the game this year—even from outside of normal viewership.”

“Tim, that’s exactly right—Captain Shane Hollander has risen to unprecedented levels of fame in the hockey universe, even gaining significant attention outside of the sport. Part of this can be attributed to his famous rivalry with Boston Raiders captain, Ilya Rozanov—these men have been neck and neck for their entire career—and it has gained significant public attention.”

“Ilya Rozanov took home the Cup in the 2012 Stanley Final, and Hollander is determined to bring it to Montreal this year.”

“Yes, Hollander has yet to lead the Metros to winning the Cup, and he has something to prove this year. He has been on a tear during the playoffs, showing no mercy. The Metros are in sync this year in a way that is unprecedented. The team has not brought home a Cup in over a decade. The pressure is palpable.”

“Jerry, we are in for a few hours of peak entertainment, and for the millions of fans around the world—they will remember the 2014 Stanley Cup Final for years to come.”

—Shane—

“This is our game to win. The L.A. Kings are hurting going into the final, Paulson has bruised ribs, Jackson has a bad shoulder, and Greggs is having to overcompensate for his weakened front line. He will start burning out in the third period. We focus on defense. Do not let their puck go into our net. We hold them. We exhaust the front line. Make them sweat.”

“Yes, cap!”

“Offense, I want you to still work your asses off to sink pucks, but reserve energy for the final period. That is where we win. I want us going into the third period with an iced out score, and I want to see a wrecked L.A. front line. And I want to see a a fucking puck sink in the first five minutes. We psych them out. We exhaust them. That is how we win. We leave it all out on the ice tonight. Do you fucking understand me? Are you fucking listening?”

“Fuck yes, cap!”

Shane was standing in the home base locker room at the Montreal Metros’ arena. He had the full attention of twenty-three massive hockey players, as he gave the most important pre-game speech of his career.

“We are here at home, our fans are screaming for us. They want to see us bring home the Cup. Will we disappoint them?”

“NO!”

“Are you ready to win the fucking Cup tonight?”

“FUCK YES!”

“Then let’s GO FUCKING WIN.”

“YES, CAP!”

“Wow Tim, what an end to the second period. The Metros’ defense has been like a brick wall that the Kings just can’t seem to get past.”

“That’s right, the Metros have held back the first line of the L.A team, it has been incredible to watch. They seem to be telepathically communicating, never leaving an opening.”

“Captain Greggs hasn’t let up for even a moment, and despite the excellent defense, he sunk two pucks for the Kings. But his wingmen are lagging, leaving him to overcompensate. He looks exhausted going into the third period.”

“Hollander, on the other hand, looks cool as a cucumber. He has already scored a hat trick, and left wing Hayden Pike sunk a puck in the final five minutes of the second period.”

“Which means that we are going into the final with a two point lead for Metros. 4:2, with the Kings down.”

“Do they have a chance for a comeback?”

“Not if Hollander can keep up his pace. He is a wonder tonight, playing like a superhuman—we haven’t seen a center play like this since Rozanov brought home the Cup two years ago.”

“Jerry, this is the Metros’ game. If they keep doing what they are doing, Montreal will bring home the Cup for the first time in thirteen years.”

—Shane—

“This is it. You all fucking did it. This is our game. But I don’t want a single one of you to fucking relax. Do not spend a single second daydreaming about holding the Cup. I want every brain cell in this room focused on just one thing for the next twenty minutes—holding our lead. Do you understand? I want every one of you to think of one thing and one thing only, HOLDING OUR LEAD. SO THAT WE WIN.”

“YES, CAP!!”

“I know that you’re all tired. I know that you have been giving fucking 500% out there. But you know who is more tired than us? Who is more fucking tired than us?”

“The fucking Kings!”

“That is right! The fucking Kings are EXHAUSTED. The first line is EXHAUSTED. Their defense is SHOT. Their team is WRECKED. But are WE wrecked?”

“FUCK NO.”

“That’s right! FUCK NO. We are ready to fucking win. SO LET'S FUCKING GO WIN! LET'S MAKE MILLIONS OF PEOPLE AROUND THE WORLD PROUD TO BE A METROS FAN. LET'S FUCKING GO!”

“CAP! CAP! CAP! CAP!”

Shane stood at the doorway, bumping helmets with every single player. He was the last player out of the room.

He took a deep breath, and spoke quietly to himself, “let’s fucking go.”

“THE METROS WON THE CUP, SHANE HOLLANDER BROUGHT THE CUP HOME!”

“Jerry, I can barely hear my own thoughts over the roar of the stadium. The Metros came into the third period as if they hadn’t played a minute of hockey tonight. I have never in my career seen a team more unified in a single mission—to decimate the other team.”

“Tim, the Kings gave it everything they had, but they just couldn’t overcome their disadvantages tonight. The Metros held their front line off, not giving him an inch.”

“Hollander sunk a puck in the first three minutes of play. Truly insane to watch. It was like no one else was on the ice outside of the Metros front line. Passing back and forth like gods on the ice.”

“Finishing a Cup final with a 5:2 score is truly incredible. Hollander and the Metros should be very proud tonight. They did it. They fucking did it.”

Chapter 27: I Am Yours, Only Yours

Chapter Notes

Russian translations in end notes.

The Day After the Stanley Cup Final | Shane’s Apartment

—Shane—

“Moyo solnyshko, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I got hard watching you make out with the Cup. I had to jerk off twice last night.”

Shane laughed, “gross, Ilya. And I wasn’t making out with the Cup.” But he was grinning proudly.

The Metros were out partying until 4am, by the time Shane came home, he was wrecked. He fell into bed and slept like a log for twelve hours. When he woke up, Ilya had prepared him the biggest meal Shane had ever seen.

“I can’t eat another bite without vomiting, you made enough for an entire team.”

“Mm, so you finish it later. After.”

Shane smirked, “after what?”

“After the winning captain collects his prize.”

“Mm, and what would that be?”

“Anything he wants it to be.”

Shane shivered. He had been thinking about this, because obviously he was going to win.

“I want you to take me out of my head. I’ve been doing nothing but thinking for months. My brain hurts. Everything hurts. I want to feel good, I want to feel nothing but good.”

Ilya took a soft breath and spoke with reverence, “Konechno, lyubov' moya, ya zastavlyu tebya zabyt' vso, krome moyego prikosnoveniya. I will make you forget everything else. You will think of nothing but pleasure.”

“And..”

“Yes, solnyshko?”

“I don’t want to see. Not until the end. And I don’t want to be edged. My body is tired. I want to feel good. Don’t tease me.”

Ilya gasped, his eyes blown dark. “Fuck. Fuck. Yes, I can do this for you.”

Shane closed his eyes and sighed deeply, he knew that he no longer had to think about anything. He knew that Ilya would take care of him.

—Ilya—

Ilya began by undressing Shane. He then pushed Shane backwards, laying him flat on his back. 

Ilya breathed deeply, he wanted to make this perfect. He told Shane to close his eyes. Ilya chewed on his lower lip, thinking through what he was going to do next.

He went into Shane’s closet, opening the drawer that he knew held all of his ties. He shuffled through them, selecting three soft silk ties. He inhaled sharply, this was going to be so fucking hot. He just had to not blow his load before getting to fuck Shane.

Ilya walked softly back into the room. Shane was laying in the exact position that Ilya left him in, his eyes fluttering with the sound of Ilya returning—but he did not open them. Shane’s cock was already half hard, his body was flushed a beautiful color. He was stunning.

“Good boy.”

Shane moaned and involuntarily bucked his hips up. His head pushed back into the pillow, and his back arched slightly. 

“Fuck, Shane. Ty krasivyy. Ya ne perezhivu tebya. I will not survive.”

Ilya moved over to stand next to the top right side of the bed. He leaned over and gently lifted Shane’s head to slip one of the ties under it, tying it just tight enough to not let any light in. He then grasped Shane’s left arm, repeating the motion to tie his wrist to the headboard. When he had finished tying his right arm to the other end, he stood back to admire his work.

Shane’s chest was heaving. His cock was fully hard, wetness gathering at the head. His hips had opened, positioning himself vulnerably—in full trust. He was offering himself to Ilya.

The powerful, unbeatable, strong, and fierce caption who just won it all—was submitting to Ilya.

Shane was going to kill him.

Ilya undressed and climbed onto the bed. He gently tugged Shane’s face towards his, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Shane sighed into it, opening his mouth for Ilya to swirl his tongue inside. Ilya kissed him gently, nipping his lower lip, licking, tasting—but with no urgency. Shane moaned and sighed softly, occasionally bucking his hips upward.

Ilya did not make him wait to be touched, he grazed his fingers lightly all over Shane’s torso while they kissed. Brushing across his nipples, circling them. Not pinching, not squeezing—just softly rubbing around and around. Shane continued to moan, releasing gorgeous sounds. Ilya was now achingly hard, but he did not think about his own pleasure.

He raised his hand below Shane’s mouth, “spit.”

Ilya moved his wet hand downwards, grasping Shane’s cock and swiping the head to combine Shane’s spit and wetness to create frictionless movements. Shane gasped, threw his head back against the pillow, and arched his back. He always responded so beautifully, with his whole body. Ilya loved it. Ilya loved him.

“Ty tak khorosho dlya menya starayesh'sya. You are doing so well. Ty krasivyy. Beautiful. You are so beautiful. I never want to look at anything else."

Shane moaned at the praise, his body shuddering.

Ilya kept stroking Shane’s cock, giving just enough pressure to not feel teasing, swiping his thumb in circles over the head until Shane was quivering beneath him.

This was when Shane would usually start begging for more, but that was not what today was about—so Ilya did not make him wait. He kissed him deeply, biting just a little bit harder on his lower lip and then licking over it to soothe the sting.

“Fuck, Ilya..”

Those were the first real words Shane had spoken since Ilya started, and they sent a jolt of pleasure straight to Ilya’s cock.

“Do you feel good, detka?”

“Mm, yes..fuck..so..so..mm..”

Ilya smiled softly and then moved down Shane’s body. He licked slow strong stripes across his tender nipples, his hand was still stroking up and down Shane’s cock with now growing intensity. 

After spending a few long seconds on each nipple, he made his final move down to place his mouth level to Shane’s cock, shifting his own body down to the end of the bed.

He took Shane into his mouth, sucking lightly on the head, while continuing to stroke up and down with his hand. He swirled his tongue around in circles a few more times, and then took Shane’s cock fully into his mouth, letting it sink deep into his throat. He relaxed, allowing the girth to fill him—he loved this. He wanted to choke on it, he wanted to taste it for hours after. Ilya moaned around Shane, the pleasure in his own body building. He had come close to coming many times, just from having Shane’s cock in his mouth.

Shane bucked his hips up, and Ilya let him. Yes, fuck my mouth. He thought. He grabbed either side of Shane’s hips and helped him build a rhythm that had him shaking and moaning incoherent words and sounds.

“Fuck…ffff….oh my god..fuck, Ilya…mmm..fuuuck…ff..mm..jesus..”

Ilya hummed around him, feeling Shane coming close. He debated what Shane would like more, coming in his mouth, or coming on Ilya’s cock. He made a quick decision right before Shane came close to deciding for him. 

He pulled off of Shane’s cock, which elicited a moan of frustration. But that was quickly replaced with sounds of pleasure, as Ilya pushed Shane’s legs back so hard that his knees nearly hit his shoulders and began stroking his tongue over the sensitive skin.

Shane arched his back and used his taut muscles to push into Ilya’s mouth.

Ilya licked in circles, pushing in as far as he could, working Shane open. Gasps, moans, and curses ripped out of Shane.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…fuck.”

Ilya reached for a bottle that he had left next to the end of the bed, popping it open and pouring a generous amount of liquid onto his fingers. He moved his mouth back up to Shane’s cock—providing him a constant source of pleasure—before sinking in two fingers.

“Mmmm…jesus fuck shit…mmm..fffff…fuck, Ilya.”

Ilya hummed around Shane’s cock, increasing both the pace of his mouth and his fingers, adding two more and stretching Shane fully open. He crooked his fingers upward, adding constant friction to the sensitive nerves inside.

“Fff..Ilya..p—”

Before Shane could finish his sentence, Ilya removed his fingers and mouth and lined up his cock, pushing in in one swift motion.

“FuCK…jesus christ…fuck fuck….mmmmm..uhhfffuck..”

Shane bucked his hips upward, arched his back, dropped his legs down onto Ilya’s shoulders, and grasped desperately at the ties that held his wrists to the headboard.

Ilya slammed into him relentlessly, refusing Shane no pleasure. Finding the perfect rhythm to undo him, gripping his legs tightly so that they were securely attached together. He leaned down to capture Shane’s mouth.

“It is time to watch, moya lyubov.”

Ilya ripped off the tie that held Shane in darkness. Shane blinked at the sudden light pouring into his vision, his eyes finally focused on Ilya, taking in the scene before him. Ilya could feel how wrecked he must look, his muscles ached with the tension of pounding into Shane, his neck was strained, his lips swollen and wet, his eyes were zeroed in on Shane with intensity.

“Holy fuck, prekrasnyy, Ilya…fuck…fuck..you are..mm..fff..”

“Come for me, krasivyy. Come.”

Shane released a loud guttural moan, slamming his head back onto the pillow, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Uuunnnhhfffuuuucckkkhoolyyfuckk…FUCKkk..”

Shane came, shooting his finish onto his chest, some hitting his neck—his arms bulged and pulled against his restraints. It was the hottest fucking thing Ilya had ever seen. He wanted to replay the moment over and over again.

Shane’s chest was heaving, his entire body shaking. Ilya motioned to pull out and finish on his own hand, but Shane grabbed his hips.

“No..stay..come..inside..fuck..come..finish..”

He was blissed out, barely coherent, his body shivering head to toe in aftershocks.

Ilya didn’t make him wait, he slammed back into Shane, causing him to groan. Shane was pliant, allowing Ilya to use him for pleasure. 

“Chort, ty prosto velikolepna. Tol'ko dlya tebya — ya tvoy, ty vladeyesh' mnoy. Ty moya. Chort, detka, ya tvoy. Ty vladeyesh' mnoy. Only for you. I am yours.”

Ilya bent his head down onto Shane’s chest, thrusting a final time, coming inside of Shane, filling him.

They heaved together, their breath ragged against each other’s faces.

“Fuck…fuck…Ilya..”

“Ya tvoy. Tol'ko tvoy. I am yours. Only yours.”

Chapter End Notes

Konechno, lyubov' moya, ya zastavlyu tebya zabyt' vso, krome moyego prikosnoveniya. = of course, my love, I will make you forget anything but my touch

Moyo solnyshko = my sunshine

Ty krasivyy. = you are beautiful

YA ne perezhivu tebya. = I will not survive you

Ty tak khorosho dlya menya starayesh'sya. = You are doing so well for me

Detka = baby (used by sexual partners)

Moya lyubov' = my love

Prekrasnyy = gorgeous

Chort, ty prosto velikolepna. Tol'ko dlya tebya — ya tvoy, ty vladeyesh' mnoy. Ty moya. Chort, detka, ya tvoy. Ty vladeyesh' mnoy. = Fuck, you are gorgeous. Only for you, I am yours, you own me. You are mine. Fuck, baby, I am yours. You own me.

Ya tvoy. Tol'ko tvoy. = I am yours. Only yours.

Chapter 28: The Promise of Next Summer

May, 2014 | Boston

—Shane—

“This will be my last time visiting Russia.”

Shane startled, “what? Why do you say that?”

Ilya was packing a large suitcase, preparing to fly to Moscow the following day. Shane had come to Boston to spend a week with Ilya before they would be apart for over a month.

“It is time for me to build my life somewhere new. With you. And I cannot do that if I am tied to a country that would punish me for being with a man.”

“But, your father..”

“Is very sick. My brother, he called week before final. My father is in hospice. He is expected to live another week, maybe two.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shane whispered.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I am worried.” Shane rose to hold Ilya, “even if your father is terrible, it’s okay for you to grieve.”

“Yes. I know, but maybe..maybe I am sad about the wrong thing. Like, that he never knew me. And..if he did..”

“I’m sorry, Ilyusha.”

Ilya’s eyes shimmered, “Spasibo, lyubimyy. Thank you. But save your tears, that man is not worth a single precious thought of yours.”

“They are not tears for him.”

“I know. I know.”

“If this is your last time..then, how will you? Your visa?”

“I am free agent now. My agent is already in serious conversations with three different teams. In Canada.”

“You are going to move to Canada?” Shane’s jaw dropped, trying to take in the news

“Not Montreal, yes? But I’d love to not have Russian passport. And to be closer to you, no crossing borders.”

“What teams? Toronto? Winnipeg?”

“No..Ottawa, probably. They need a powerful center. And so far, they are giving best offer.”

“But Ottawa is a terrible team. You’re..you’re the captain of a Cup-winning team.”

“Exactly, I have opportunity to bring team to greatness. It will be legendary.” Ilya grinned.

“Mhm. Sure. Legendary. But will you be..happy? Ottawa is also very boring.”

Ilya gasped dramatically. “This is Yuna and David’s home city, you must respect it. What would they say if they heard their second favorite son speaking this way?”

Shane rolled his eyes, “it is my hometown, I can say whatever the fuck I want to about it.” He continued, “do they even have any clubs? “

“I don’t go out as much anymore. The guys are getting old and popping out babies. And, well. I don’t need to go to a club to get laid.” Ilya winked, causing Shane to blush.

“Would you really come to Canada? That would be..fuck, that would be..” Shane couldn’t get the words out. 

“Amazing. Incredible. A chance for us to start building a life together.”

“Yes.” Shane was stunned, he couldn’t quite process what this would mean for their future.

“And…” Ilya continued, “it would also mean we can finally get married.”

—Ilya—

The first time they spoke about their plans for a wedding, it was right after Shane had proposed—almost five months ago.

“I know we have to wait. Until it’s safe, until you have permanent residence in a country that’s not Russia.”

“I am sorry, solnyshko. I would marry you today if I could.”

“It’s not just that, though..is it.”

This was the real fear that they both shared. Sure, getting a citizenship would be difficult, but immigration lawyers would help—and a professional athlete at the top of his field would not have much trouble.

But coming out as gay to the MLH world? That was an entirely different thing.

What would their teams say? The fans? Their sponsors? What kind of retaliation would they face from management for risking viewership?

It was terrifying. It kept Ilya up at night. It haunted his thoughts.

Ilya sighed, “yes. We have to think about this. What it would mean for us. When it is the right time.”

“I don’t want to hide forever.” Shane’s eyes shimmered with the pain of hiding the man he loved for more than three years.

“Me neither, moya lyubov. We need a plan.”

“Yeah. A plan.”

Ilya had, in fact, been forming a plan since that conversation. And he was finally sharing a key piece of it with Shane. 

If he was going to get citizenship outside of Russia, there was no question in his mind—he wanted it to be in Canada. He would never ask Shane to leave the Metros, or his home country. Shane loved Canada, and Canada loved Shane.

Ilya had grown to love Ottawa. It was boring, with all of the small shops and loud kids—he fucking loved it. 

He imagined spending nights with Yuna and David, making pasta and doing puzzles. He imagined finally getting a dog. He imagined spending every holiday with Shane, with them being just a two hour drive apart.

It was these imaginations that got him through the grueling playoffs, and sustained him in the past weeks of mental exhaustion—of knowing that he was going to Moscow to watch his father die.

“Ilya?” Shane looked at him expectantly.

“Da, yes. Sorry.”

“Did you hear my question? You seem very far away.”

“No, I am sorry. What was it?”

“When? When are you thinking we could get married?”

“I was thinking next summer. After I have signed with Centaurs. We can apply for citizenship through our marriage, instead of through team. It will be much faster.”

Shane exhaled deeply, taking in the idea. “Next summer.”

Ilya smiled, “next summer.”

Chapter 29: Set Fire to the Rain

Chapter Notes

Trigger warning, explicit depiction of anxiety attack.

Late Summer, 2014 | Montreal 

—Shane—

“We will need to tell Crowell.”

They were relaxing on the couch, mindlessly watching TV. Shane had been mulling over this thought for at least an hour.

Ilya sighed resignedly, “yes, I know.”

“I mean, technically we are in no way legally obligated to give him advance notice. But—“

“But not doing it is a terrible idea. It will backfire. He would find a reason to suspend us, to make it huge issue.”

“Yes. We need to be prepared to come in strong, a unified front.”

“When? When should we..”

“After your contract is signed with the Centaurs. So that we know your negotiations will not be affected.”

“Okay. Yes. This makes most sense.”

Shane was silent, he felt a slight panic overtaking him.

“You are scared.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m trying not to be.”

“No, it’s okay. It is scary.” Ilya exhaled deeply, “he will not take it well. We know this for sure. But legally he cannot—“

“He cannot legally, but that won’t change how the hockey world will respond. We could be..we could be ruined.”

“Shane, you are the best player in the MHL—maybe in the history of the sport. They cannot touch you.”

Shane’s eyes were shimmering. “I wish I could believe that.”

Winter, 2015 | MLH Headquarters

—Shane—

“I’ll tell you what I told Hunter. The hockey world is not a place for politics or radicalism.”

Is Scott Hunter gay? Shane’s mind was spinning.

They were sitting in Roger Crowell’s office, and the MHL League Commissioner was fuming. Spitting his cruelty at Shane and Ilya without remorse.

“Being in love is not political. And loving a man is not radical. Love is free. It is a right.” Ilya was fuming, but his tone was coldly calm.

Shane was furious. But he was also terrified. He thought he might throw up. His vision was going dark, blackness closing in on the edges. His chest started heaving, his breath felt painful—like it was being ripped from his chest.

“We will sue. The league will lose millions. This is discrimination.” Ilya spoke again, his voice furious, his hands still. Not an ounce of fear or anxiety was present in his demeanor.

Shane was frozen in place, all of his words were still stuck in his throat. He was focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

“We won’t be kicking you out of the league, but it is not illegal for a team to trade a player. There is no law that protects you from a world that is not ready for you. The MLH grants all teams the right to choose what players they have on their team. And if they choose to trade you to a lesser team, I will not stop them.”

Crowell paused, looking at Shane when he spoke, “choose wisely boys, this could ruin everything you have worked for your entire lives. Choose wisely.”

Ilya stood, reaching for Shane’s hand. “I choose us. Let’s go, Shane.” 

Shane grasped Ilya’s hand, trying to ground himself in the touch. His body swayed, his head felt light and airy. Breathe. Just breathe. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

They left the office and walked to the car without a word spoken between them. The heavy silence followed in the drive back to the hotel, and continued as Ilya unlocked the door and motioned for Shane to walk inside.

“He cannot do this.” Ilya started ranting the moment he closed the hotel door. He began to pace back and forth. 

“I will contact my immigration lawyer. I will make sure I am protected and that they cannot deport me. I will have them prepare paperwork for us to retaliate if they—”

“Ilya..” 

Shane’s breath was shallow, the terror that he had worked to keep at bay was closing in on him. His chest rose and fell, feeling tight. Each breath felt like a knife tearing through his throat.

“They cannot trade us without cause. We both brought home cups, they cannot—”

“Ilya..I can’t..” Shane’s body started collapsing, I can’t breathe. 

“Shane? Shane?!”

Breathe, he told himself. Breathe—in. Out. In. Out. 

His hearing became muddy and muted, his eyes filled with shadows, fading to black around the edges.

“Shane! Shane, can you hear me? Oh my god.” 

Breathe. Just breathe—In. Out. In. Out. 

“When you are having an attack, count three things you can see, two things you can hear, and one thing you can touch.” His mother’s words had surfaced in his mind. 

Three things he can see—but he couldn’t open his eyes, he could only see black. 

Two things he can hear—”Shane, lyubimyy, chto proiskhodit?” 

Ilya’s voice? He could hear Ilya. And he sounded worried. 

I am okay, don’t worry, I am okay. I will be okay, just give me a moment. 

Did Shane say his response to Ilya out loud? He couldn’t hear his own voice, he could only hear the muffled sounds of Ilya’s questions. But even that was fading.

Keep breathing —In. Out. In. Out. 

“Shane, Shane, do you want me to call an ambulance? Shane, breathe. Shane look at me, look at me, take deep breaths.”

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

What was touching his back? 

Was that the floor? 

When did he get on the ground?

In. Out. In. Out. 

The darkness swallowed him whole.

The only sound he could still hear was his own breathing.

In. Out.

Chapter End Notes

Lyubimyy, chto proiskhodit? = my love what is happening?

I based Shane’s panic attack on how my own attacks feel. I haven’t had one in a while, but you never forget the feeling of not being able to breathe, of your vision suddenly going black and your body collapsing under you.

For anyone who struggles with mental health and anxiety, please know that you are not alone.

Chapter 30: I Can’t Love You in the Dark

Chapter Notes

Early Spring, 2015 | Boston

—Ilya—

After Shane’s terrifying panic attack, they did not speak about their conversation with Crowell again. The first few times that Ilya tried to bring the subject up, Shane’s breath started to get ragged. His body went stiff, and his eyes went glossy.

So Ilya stopped bringing it up. But he thought about it every single day. What did this mean for them? Had Shane changed his mind about coming out? If Shane needs more time, how much time would be enough?

Things had become tense between them—delicate in a way that it had never felt before. Shane started to pull away, and it made Ilya feel rejected and terrified—so Ilya started recluding inside of himself. He tried to convince himself that Shane just needed time. Needed space.

But a nagging and fearful voice in the back of his mind wouldn’t stop asking the same horrible question—was Shane giving up on them?

The final straw was when they stopped having sex. They always had sex. The both loved having sex. Angry sex. Tired sex. Even sad sex. 

But no sex? Ilya did not know what it meant. It felt eerie. Disturbing. Wrong. 

It felt like his connection to Shane was muted, inexistent. 

Two months ago, they were gleefully planning their coming out—their wedding this summer. And now? And now they felt like strangers.

This wasn’t them. They were better than this. They just needed to talk. Really talk.

Late Spring, 2015 | Montreal

—Ilya—

If Ilya knew that talking about it would ruin his life, maybe he would have reconsidered opening his mouth.

Ilya had a red eye flight back to Boston that night, he and Shane were both exhausted, they had three more hours together—but instead of spending it cuddling on the couch, or having sex, or cooking dinner—they were using their precious time together to break each other’s hearts.

“Choose us. Pick us. Choose us over all the rest. Choose us.”

Ilya has decided that tonight was the night he wanted to bring up the topic of coming out. Why he chose this exact moment, he’ll never understand.

As soon as he brought it up, Shane reacted how he always did—he started to shut down.

“Why won’t you wait? Just wait a little longer. We can—”

“We already did, Hollander. We already waited to be free—to love each other in the light. We’ve waited and waited. I can’t do this right now. I am going to go to the airport early. We will talk later.”

What little self preservation that Ilya had left was screaming for him to leave before anything else left his mouth.

But Shane wouldn’t let Ilya end it there, he never wanted them to leave each other in the middle of a fight. He always tried, he was always trying. He was always so good. And Ilya was seeing red looking at him right now.

“No, please don’t leave like this. We won’t see each other for another three weeks. Please. Ilya, please don’t ask me for this right now..I need more time…It’s just not that simple for me, it’s not me ‘choosing’ hockey over you.”

“You think this is simple for me, Shane? You think this is easy for me? I decide because you are worth it. Because you are everything to me. You are worth losing everything else for. I am tired of hiding, I am sick of it. I can’t do it anymore. I’ve hidden my love for you for almost half a decade. It is killing me from inside out.”

“Ilya, you’re asking me to risk who I am, what I’ve dreamt about since before I knew how to write my own name. It..it’s what I’ve worked for my entire life—it is not something I can just throw away. It’s different for me. I’m already an outlier. I’m already a face that doesn’t represent what hockey is supposed to be. I always had to work ten times harder to not be written off. I don’t want to have another minority label slapped onto me. I don’t want to give them another reason to other me, to count me out.”

Ilya sighed. He knew this. He knew that Shane had more to lose. That he didn’t feel the same way about hockey as Ilya did, it wasn’t just a career or game to him—it was a part of his identity. He had fought hard his entire life to be seen as equal, but his race was still to this day constantly being brought up. A constant asterisk next to his accomplishments, like one cannot exist separate from the other.

But he was heart broken. He was exhausted. He felt empty. He just wanted to be free. So, instead of responding with empathy—he doubled down and hit below the belt.

“So it is me, then. It’s me that you are okay with throwing away. Us.”

“No. Stop. Stop. What are you saying? This is not you, you are not being yourself. You’re right, let’s take some time. Let’s stop fighting. Let’s take some time and—”

“And what, Shane?! What comes after you saying we keep us secret for another—what—another year? Another five years? A lifetime? That we can’t get married. That we can’t build a life together. That we continue to live in secret like our love is something wrong, something to be ashamed of.” 

Ilya was losing his enunciation, gesticulating wildly with his hands, he had never lost control like this. He felt out-of-body, like he was somewhere else watching what was happening, screaming for it to stop. For him to stop saying things.

Both Shane and Ilya’s eyes were wide and wet, both bodies flinching at each subsequent blow, at each sentence that pushed them towards a fall they wouldn’t survive.

Shane choked out his words. “Maybe..maybe it won’t be that much longer. Things might change..we might be—”

“Things have changed, outside of hockey—look around Shane, the world has changed. We can bring that to the sport we love. We can be the change. We can be what we needed at eighteen years old. If we wait for things to be perfect, for things to be easy—we will miss out on our entire life.”

What are you saying right now? “What does this mean, Ilya?” Shane was choking out his words. The drops hanging onto his lashes falling, one after the other. Painting sadness all over his beautiful face.

“It means..it means that I am done waiting for the world to be ready. I am ready. Choose me, Shane. Choose us. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe it will be incredible, best thing to happen to us. We deserve to be free. I deserve to be free to love my partner outside of closed doors. We both do. Aren’t you tired of hiding? Of making our friends and family keep our secret? Of being asked about your dating life when we’ve been together for five fucking years?”

A potent silence seeped into every corner of the room. Shane’s lack of response was deafening. Ilya’s heart seized cold in his chest. His breath caught tight in his chest. He knew that there was no coming back from this moment if Shane said no.

“Choose us, Shane. Tell me that you’ll choose us.” He whispered roughly—pleading. Begging.

Shane dropped his eyes away from Ilya, his whole body caving in onto itself—a total shut down. He shook his head back and forth, in such a slight motion that it could have meant nothing, if it weren’t for the haunting words that followed. Shane was choking on his words, his voice was barely audible. “I can’t….I can’t do it. Please don’t ask me. I can’t..I need more time..please don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to us. Give me more time..please..please..”

Ilya knew that those words meant everything. They meant—no.

Ilya laid his cards open on the table, and he lost. It was over. 

The point of no return.

He looked at the love of his life, trembling in front of him. And his heart turned to stone. He physically felt his walls go up, shutting with a clang behind iron gates.

“I won’t love you in secret anymore, Shane.” He said, his voice flat but broken. “We are done.”

And then Ilya walked out of Shane’s apartment, without looking back to see the destruction left behind.

Chapter End Notes

This chapter was so heartbreaking to write. I started drafting it the first week I started this fic, because I knew that it was the pinnacle moment this story revolved around.

I wanted to play with the question—what does it feel like to wait five years, and still not get to be with the person you love?

I was closeted for almost a decade, from my young teenage years to my early twenties. It was literally not physically safe for me to come out. My parents found out that I kissed a girl and threatened to kick me out if I ever saw her again.

When I started dating my wife, my parents told me that I was going to hell.

I have been no contact with them for five years.

One of the biggest parts of the Heated Rivalry universe is the hiding, the shame, the fear, and the pain that comes with being closeted.

Being closeted because of a world unsafe for you—it makes you do and say things that aren’t perfect. Living with intense anxiety—it changes who you are in tough moments.

Disclaimer:
I am a huge Ilya AND Shane defender, I love both of them equally. Relationships are complicated even without the huge pressure of being public figures, gay athletes, struggling with mental health.

No one is wrong here. Both are valid. Love is a battlefield.

Chapter 31: Ain’t No Sunshine When He’s Gone

Chapter Notes

[A YEAR LATER] Late Spring, 2016 | Ottawa

—Ilya—

The Centaurs were out at a bar, celebrating making it to the cup finals. The team was strong. Hayes was becoming the best goalie in the league, Barrett had fully gained his confidence and was netting goals every game, Bood was a tried and true first linemate. Even Haas was making headlines, with a rookie season that rivals Ilya’s own.

Ilya came on as captain and fought everyday to bring the team to its full potential. He gave it all on the ice—every practice, every game, every speech.

But Ilya felt void of all happiness. Hockey had lost its fire. 

Without Shane, it was just a game.

When Ottawa and Montreal played against each other, the ice between Shane and Ilya was not only under their feet—it was like a glacier was separating them, even when they were pressed together on the boards. 

Shane felt unreadable for the first time in the eight years of them playing against each other. His face always wiped free of expression, his hands steady, his game as competitive as ever. His only tell was that he flinched every time Ilya made eye contact with him. A flickering of pain involuntarily escaping his facade of indifference.

Ilya did not chirp him at all, not even a muttered taunt or tease. He made himself play like he would against any other competitor, just devoid of the levity of his usual nature. Not that he had much of that left in him these days anyway.

But Shane wasn’t just another competitor, and he never would be. And every time the puck dropped between them, his heart followed it to the ground.

After The New York Admirals won the Cup last year, Scott Hunter came out as gay by kissing his boyfriend on the ice for the world to see. It changed things for Ilya. After their breakup, he didn’t think coming out mattered anymore—but seeing Hunter, it made him understand the power of being fully known. It was the spark he needed to come out himself, just a few months later.

“Roz, where are you at tonight, man?” Troy Barrett had walked up to sit next to Ilya at the bar. “Every time I look at you, you’re staring at the wall like it might start talking to you.”

The two men became close friends during Ilya’s first year on the Centaurs. He and Troy shared many things in common—a complicated family life, a commitment to justice, and their both being queer players in the MLH. Ilya was an avid and loud supporter of Troy falling in love with the team’s social media manager, and living freely as a gay man. A freedom that Ilya was extremely envious of. Troy had come out shortly after Hunter, a few months after the season started. He told Ilya that he didn’t want to spend another moment of his life hiding, and that he wanted to be with Harris publicly and without fear.

It made acid burn in Ilya’s throat.

They grew even closer when Ilya opened up to Troy about his break up with Shane. Ilya couldn’t tell him exactly what had happened—or actually name Shane—but one night while they were grabbing drinks alone, Ilya just couldn’t stand having no one know about the all-consuming darkness in his heart.

“I..I went through a terrible break up, in the spring. We were together for many many years. I can’t say who it was. This..person..was the love of my life. And I lost them. I walked away. And I have been questioning every single day if it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“I’m so sorry, man. I can’t imagine losing Harris. I wish I could help you. If you ever need to talk..”

“You already helped me. You are now the second person who knows. One of the only two people in my life who..who knows my pain.”

And when Ilya made a public statement only a few months later, coming out to the world as a bisexual man—promising to help make hockey a more inclusive sport that embraces diversity. Barrett sent him a gift basket right after the press conference with a hand written note: “You deserve to be loved out loud.” And Ilya thought that maybe, just maybe, Troy knew exactly who had broken Ilya’s heart.

[FLASHBACK: Late Fall, 2015 | Troy and Harris’s Home]

—Harris— 

“Ilya’s press interviews about his coming out went amazing, best we could’ve hoped for. And his social media accounts are popping off. So many new supporters. This is going to be so amazing for the league.” Harris was excitedly chatting with Troy in their home gym, taking occasional pauses to admire his extremely sexy boyfriend.

“Yeah,” Troy grunted as he set down his dumbbells. “I’m super happy for him.”

“I wonder if he broke up with a man.” Harris whispered. Troy had told him about Ilya’s confession, under extreme duress and threats of no sex from Harris. Partners don’t keep secrets, what did Ilya say to make you act so weird lately??

“Mm.” Troy started looking shifty.

“Troy…what do you know? Spill. Come on. Don’t make me threaten—“

“I just..” Troy sighed. “I just have this feeling..”

Harris tapped his foot expectantly. 

“Look, all I know is that Ilya shared that he went through his break up in the spring..and he started the season with the Centaurs in the fall. I was super confused by his choice to move to Ottawa and the height of his career with Boston. He could have nearly doubled his contract there. There have been..rumors. Conjecture. In the league, about him and..him and Shane Hollander.”

Harris’s jaw dropped to the floor. “Are you kidding me?”

“I never believed it, I thought it was just guys being assholes, chirping about them being fags and shit. But..but then Ilya moved to fucking Ottawa. Which is a two hour drive from Montreal.”

“Babe..babe..are you saying—are you saying—that Ilya and Shane..that Shane Hollander is the guy that Ilya broke up with???”

“I know nothing. It’s just..um, look it’s just a gut thing. It all makes sense to be honest.” Troy started ticking off things on his fingers. “The captain and star center of a cup-winning team moves to fucking Ottawa to play on a shit team. Then, Ilya goes through a horrible break up but won’t tell me the gender of the person. And then, a couple of months later he comes out, but still doesn’t share who it is. Which means..which means that person is probably high profile. And him telling me is too much of a risk.” 

Harris was shocked. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Troy talk so fast and animatedly outside of recapping hockey plays or debating Harris’s dad about the best place to get hot chocolate during Christmas.

Troy continued, “I have this nagging feeling that Ilya moved here for Shane, that they were planning on going public. But Shane, for whatever reason, backed out. I don’t know why I keep thinking about it over and over. Ilya gets so weird when we play Montreal. Like he is being haunted. And you should see the way he and Shane look at each other—or worse, pretend to be not looking.”

“Wow. Wow. That actually all makes so much sense. Someone doesn’t move to a different country—to a worse team—unless they are doing it for love. For someone they are deeply in love with. Someone they see..see a future with.” His face fell. “Fuck. Poor Ilya… and poor Shane. What a fucking mess.”

[PRESENT DAY]

“Hey bud, you with me?” Troy was looking at Ilya with increasing concern.

“Yes, sorry. I am just tired. Big day. Big season.” Ilya avoided Troy’s eyes.

“Uh huh.” Troy hesitated, and then seemed to decide to move forward with his next words. “Look, so I was thinking. You seem..sad. A lot. All of the time. We’re worried about you—“

“Who is this we?”

“Um. Some of the guys..”

“Okay.”

“So anyway, we’re worried about you. And I thought that maybe. Just maybe think about..you know..”

“What? I know nothing. What are you talking about?”

“You know, like maybe putting yourself out there again..try..dating someone. Even casually. Find a person who can put some sunshine back on your face.”

Ilya huffed. “I am not ready.”

“Buddy, I know that it’s only been about a year. It doesn’t have to be something serious. Just breaking the ice. Putting some space between you and…” Troy paused, side eyeing Ilya, “...you and the person who broke your heart.”

When silence fell between them, Troy made one last attempt. 

“Look, Hazy’s wife Lisa is hosting a party this weekend. There will be music, dogs, kids..and probably a lot of hot doctors. You should come. Even if just for an hour. It would make the guys really happy. It would make me happy.”

“Okay. Okay. I will try.”

A grin split across Troy’s face. 

“Excellent, excellent. That’s all I wanted to hear. I..uh..I love you man. Things will get better with time.” Troy’s face had turned pink. He coughed softly before he stood up, patted Ilya on the back and walked away—thoughtfully deciding to give Ilya space to process. 

A Few Days Later | Lisa and Wyatt Hayes’s Home

—Lisa Hayes—

“Babe! Babe, did you order Coronas? I can’t find them anywhere.”

Lisa Hayes, wife of Wyatt Hayes—star goalie on the Ottawa Centaurs—was currently running around their house, finishing up preparation for a big party that was starting in 45..no, 30 minutes.

“Yes, sweetheart, I put them in the outside fridge already!” Wyatt grinned. “Honey, this is going to be great. Thank you for doing so much. What did I do to deserve the sexiest doctor in Canada, no, sexiest in the world.”

Lisa blushed, “I just want it to be a good time for everyone. What are a bunch of doctors and hockey players going to even talk about?”

“Hm, the long term side effects of multiple concussions?”

Lisa snorted. But the joke eased the tension in her shoulders just enough to allow a stream of breath to deflate the stress in her body.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh and hey, get this—guess who Barrett told me he convinced to come today?” Hayes grinned, knowing the effect his words were about to have on his wife, “Ilya. Barrett convinced Ilya Rozanov to finally leave his house.”

Lisa’s jaw dropped.

When Ilya joined the Centaurs in the fall, Lisa had been a bit worried about his reputation as..well, as being a bit of an asshole. But when she met the real man behind the persona, she found that Ilya was a giant teddy bear, with a soft spot for children and dogs. He always stayed to help clean after parties. He never forgot a birthday or anniversary. He loved playing tricks on people, but never unkindly, and always in a way that had the victim laughing on the floor after.

But there was something dark shadowing over him. His smiles didn’t meet his eyes. His laugh was hollow. He was clearly once a boisterous man, and even to new friends—the burdens in his heart were palpable.

[FLASHBACK | A Few Months Ago]

“Does anyone even know what happened before he joined the team? Why he left Boston?” Cassie, Zane Boodram’s (the team called him “Bood”) wife asked.

Some of the guys and their partners were having an intimate dinner party. The conversation turned to Ilya.

“It must have been something terrible, to have such a lasting effect on him. I didn’t know him, but his energy was legendary. That’s not the man I see now.” Lisa said.

“I know he mentioned having a complicated family, I think his father passed a couple years ago, but does anyone know if he has family left in Russia?” Bood asked the group.

“He mentioned a brother once, it didn’t seem like they were close. And I think his mother passed away, he has never once mentioned her.” Wyatt Hayes’ words fell heavy on the group.

They were all thinking the same thing: was Ilya completely alone?

“What about a partner?” Asked Lisa. “Does anyone know if he has ever been in a serious relationship? Could he have gone through a nasty break up?”

They all looked at each other, no one spoke. No one knew if Ilya had ever dated someone. He had a reputation as a womanizer in his very early career, but that fizzled out about a year after his rookie season, more than half a decade before he joined the Centaurs. And then nothing. When he came out as bisexual, some of the guys expected him to reveal a relationship with a man. But still, nothing.

Troy and Harris were both pointedly quiet during the entire conversation. Their silence was suddenly noticed, especially Harris in particular, since he was famously extremely chatty.

“Troy, Harris—you guys have become pretty close to Ilya, right? Like, outside of hockey?” Cassie asked.

Troy cleared his throat and squeezed Harris’s knee, warning him to not reveal what they knew. 

“Ilya hasn’t shared much. He has a wall around him. It’s almost impossible to penetrate.”

The group looked pointedly at Harris.

“Um..yeah. What Troy said. Walls. Hard to break through.”

Lisa sighed. “Is anyone in the mood for dessert?”

[PRESENT DAY | At The Hayes’s Party]

—Ilya—

Ilya was standing outside the front door. He had been there for a couple of minutes. A dull sense of dread filled his body, he didn’t know if he could do this. If he could stand in a room full of people, while he felt so devastatingly alone. He shifted on his feet, and was about to turn around when—

“You going inside?”

A handsome man wearing a soft navy sweater and tailored slacks approached Ilya from behind. He had thick wavy brown hair, falling neatly above green eyes. He was tall, about the same height as Ilya. He had a soft warm smile, which looked natural and well worn on his face. He wore glasses.

“Um, yes?”

The man laughed.

“I have been watching you stand there, while I was walking over.” He smiled a bit flirtatiously, “it looked like maybe you weren’t quite decided.”

Ilya gave a small indulgent laugh. “Yes, well. Um.”

“Should we head inside together? I can help shield you from Lisa’s inevitable onslaught of energetic questions.” The man cocked his head slightly to the left, as if waiting for Ilya to decide.

“Okay. Yes.”

A grin split across the man’s face, “My name is Anderson.”

“Nice to meet you, Anderson. My name is Ilya.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” And Anderson winked at him.

Chapter End Notes

A hot doctor has entered the villa. Don’t kill me. Please.

Chapter 32: Anderson

Summer - Fall, 2016 | Ottawa

—Ilya—

He was nice. Ilya learned that Anderson was a doctor friend of Lisa’s. He was self assured in a confident but non-cocky way. He carried himself like a man who knew who he was and what he wanted. And apparently, Ilya was what he wanted.

They went on dates in restaurants, museums, sports stadiums, and bars—never having to pretend that they weren’t boyfriends. They held hands while walking down the street. They had sex. It was okay

Anderson got along well with the team. His humble intelligence charmed everyone. And he surprised everyone when he rivaled Ilya in his teasing abilities. He already had inside jokes with all of the other wags.

It felt..easy. Safe. Assuring.

Soulless.

Every time Anderson slept over, Ilya would startle awake after having dreamt that it was Shane next to him. Instead of ginger ale and protein powder in his kitchen, there were now peppermint tea and granola bars. Not bad. Just..different.

He couldn’t remember it happening, but suddenly there was a second toothbrush in his bathroom. An emptied drawer filled with Anderson’s clothes. A new routine set in motion without formalities.

When the season started in the fall—Anderson started attending home games. He was always Ilya’s plus one to parties, and he slowly became a person that Ilya could depend on to always be there.

There were no big declarations of love. Ilya had been upfront with Anderson from the beginning. I had a bad break up. It tore me apart. We will take it slow, yes?

Anderson was nothing but supportive, and patient.

Over time, he started softening the edges of Ilya’s heart. Not quite penetrating it, but Ilya found himself smiling more, laughing more, and a few times he was even close to feeling happy.

He still dreamt of Shane almost every night. He still waited for the sound of the blender in the mornings. He still found himself putting Shane’s favorite vegetables in his shopping cart. 

He still had his plastic ring from Shane and his “wedding” at the Pike’s house in the top drawer of his night stand. Next to a printed photo of Shane and him at the cottage.

His soul still ached for Shane. But his heart felt a little warmer with each passing day.

Winter, 2016 | California

—Rose—

“Shane?” 

Rose was alone in her trailer, on location in L.A. for the latest sequel in her superhero franchise.

“Shane, are you okay? What time is it in Montreal?”

“4am.”

“Why are you up at 4am?! Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“No, my next game is on Thursday.”

“Ah, okay. That’s good at least.”

Rose paused and assessed the situation. It was not uncommon for Shane and Rose to call each other randomly. Their chats were about nothing serious most of the time, just gossiping about their co-workers and catching up. They both traveled constantly for work, and it could get really lonely. But sometimes, they would call each other in their worst moments. After a big loss. Or a failed audition. They leaned on each other, they always answered the phone for each other when they could. And they always called back when they couldn’t.

It felt amazing to have a friend like Shane. She loved him very much, which is why her heart was speeding up in fear at Shane’s late night phone call and the gutted tone of his voice.

“Are you okay? Is everything okay? Your parents?”

“No, no, everyone is okay.”

“What is going on then, Shane? Why are you up so late? I am starting to panic. Where are you?”

“At home.”

“Ottawa?”

“No, my apartment in Montreal.”

“Okay. Okay, so you are safe.”

“Yes.” Shane’s voice broke.

“Oh, Shane, oh honey. What is happening?”

A long pause. Rose could hear ragged breathing. She thought she could hear Shane start to speak and then cut himself off a few times before he managed to get some real words out. 

“The photos..he..at the game..and they were..and it wasn’t..I didn’t think he would ever..I was still hoping..I was still waiting..fuck..” Shane’s voice cracked. She could hear the sob that was stuck painfully in his throat.

Rose waited. Giving Shane a chance to collect his racing thoughts. She heard him release a deep shaky breath. 

She had a feeling that she knew what this was about.

Ilya had officially gone public with his boyfriend. There wasn’t any formal press release or anything, his boyfriend just showed up at a game one day. No one would have thought much of a random man showing up to support Ilya—it could have been a friend— but friends weren’t typically photographed kissing after the game. 

The photos were immediately on celebrity news sites, with articles headlined things like “Everything You Need to Know About Hockey’s Most Famous Bachelor’s New Man.” With a compilation of photos from the game, with Ilya’s boyfriend pictured beaming at him with pride. He was tall and handsome, a fucking children’s doctor apparently. That fucker, he couldn’t even have the decency to be a dumb model or himbo gym rat.

Rose was waiting for Shane to call her about it after the photos were released, but he never did. Weeks went by and she started to wonder if she had misread how much he had really moved on.

Until now.

Until Shane called her, choking over his words.

“Oh Shane, I’m so sorry.”

Silence filled the hundreds of miles between them.

“I am such a fucking idiot.”

“No you are not.”

“Yes, I am. I lost him. I was too much of a coward, I couldn’t do the one thing he ever asked of me. And now..” his voice cracked, “..now I’ve lost him forever. He’s moved on. I am such a fucking idiot.”

Chapter 33: No More Hiding

Winter, 2017 | Montreal

—Shane—

He really needed to stop doing this. Shane was scrolling through the #ilyarozanov tag, obsessing over each new photo that was released of him and his new boyfriend. He knew everything about Anderson that was public knowledge, and maybe did some deeper research of his own. He seemed..nice. It drove Shane insane. 

Did Ilya want nice? Was he happy? Were things serious with this guy? Would they move in together? It seemed very serious to Shane, since Ilya was seen photographed with Anderson very frequently. The doctor attending almost every home game—and Ilya started volunteering at the hospital where Anderson worked—as a fucking children’s doctor. 

Shane wanted to vomit when he found out what Anderson’s career was. A fucking doctor. For children.

Ilya loved kids. He was so good with them. Hayden’s kids adored him. 

Telling them about Ilya was somehow one of the hardest of moments of their breakup.

“When is uncle Ilya coming back?” 

“Um..he went away for a while..he..uh” Shane stuttered, his eyes blurring.

“Where did he go?”

“Baby, go clean up for dinner and leave uncle Shane alone.” Jackie sighed and put her hand on Shane’s shoulder, squeezing. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Shane slammed his phone down. He suddenly felt like he was going to pass out.

Spring, 2017 | Montreal

—Shane—

“I’ve decided to come out.”

“What?” Hayden stopped mid chew. “Like, to the team?”

“I was thinking more like, to the world.”

“Damn. Okay. Yeah, buddy. I support you no matter what.” Hayden paused. “But..”

“But, what?”

Hayden blushed a little, clearly feeling awkward about what he was about to ask.

“But, you’re doing this for you..right? Not just because—” Hayden choked on his asparagus a little—”not just because, Ilya..”

“Hayd—”

“I know, I know, you’re “over it”—Hayden mimed quotation marks—“but dude, you don’t seem fucking over it.”

“Hey!”

“Buddy, I caught you zooming into pap photos just last week after practice. Don’t shoot the messenger."

Shane rolled his eyes and huffed. “I am not doing this for him.”

“Soo, you coming out right after Ilya starts dating a hot doctor very publicly—that’s just a…coincidence? 

“Yup.”

“Mmk. Dude, look, I support you always. You know that. I love you. I am behind you no matter what. So I will just say this once—you do this for you. Not anyone else.”

“Thank you, Hayd. I love you too.”

Shane very much was hoping that him coming out would magically make Ilya want him back, but Hayden didn’t need to know that.

April 8, 2017 | News Article: Shane Hollander Comes Out

OUT MAGAZINE EXCLUSIVE

April 8, 2017

Star Hockey Player Comes Out as Gay: The Shane Hollander Story

“I just hope that being the fourth publicly out MLH player will contribute to the ongoing work—pioneered by Ilya Rozanov, Scott Hunter, and Troy Barrett—of making hockey more inclusive for all.”

[Cover image: Shane sitting on his dock at the cottage, wearing a navy blue sweater and dark slacks. He is sitting on the ledge of his dock at his remote cottage in Canada.]

Written by Jade Sterling, editor and journalist at Out Magazine

I sat down with Shane Hollander—2014 Stanley Cup winner and one of the current top players in the MLH—last week to do an exclusive interview about his decision to come out as gay. 

Shane opted to host me at his gorgeous cottage on a private lake deep into the lush woods of Eastern Canada. He sat comfortably on a large lounge chair, opposite to me, positioning himself so that he could give me his full and active attention. 

He wore a soft white t-shirt, loosely fitted dark wash jeans, and unlabeled loafers. The only item on him that spoke to his multi-millionaire status was a Rolex on his right wrist. When I complimented it, he looked a bit embarrassed and shared that they gave it to him for free. 

From that moment on, I was charmed by the humble, polite, unassuming man. Him being voted the #1 hottest player in the MLH for three years running might have also had something to do with it.

We casually jumped into our interview, he only needed a slight clarification that it had started “the recorder means we are on the record, right?” Charming. So charming.

I’ll start with an easy one. Why did you choose Out Magazine as the publication for your coming out story?

S: Your 2016 piece on the history of queer players in professional sports was really important to me—the one you wrote right after Ilya Rozanov came out as bisexual. I didn’t realize just how many of us there were in the entire sports world, but how few were in the MLH. Well, at the time, I guess only exactly three hockey players had come out—Hunter, Barrett, and Ilya.

And why now? What made you finally take the plunge and come out to the world?

S: I thought about how I would answer this question. I came up with many variations, but honestly? It was just time. If I kept waiting for everything to be perfect—I would miss out on my entire life. Someone very special to me once said that. I finally decided to take his advice.

Can you share who that was?

S: Unfortunately, I cannot at this time. But maybe one day.

Did seeing Scott Hunter, Troy Barrett, and Ilya Rozanov embraced by MLH fans after they came out provide some comfort?

S: Yes, absolutely. Scott Hunter coming out in such a revolutionary way, it was, well it was a turning point. But, at the time, I wasn’t ready. I was terrified.

The hockey world was shocked by your very public and explicit support of Ilya when he came out. I think we all believed the rival narrative was real. Can you speak to that?

S: Ilya has always been an inspiration to me. As a competitor, as a talented player…as one of the best humans in the MHL. I was very proud to see him come out. I know that it was incredibly important to him. Our “rivalry” was more professional admiration. He made me a better player. He made me a better person. I am so proud of him. 

I want the world to know, without a doubt, that I am happy for Ilya and wish him every joy in life.

You are speaking in past tense, are you no longer on good terms?

S: We..it is complicated. Life happens. People aren’t perfect. I don’t hold any ill will towards him. I am happy that he is happy.

What is next for you? 

S: I want to do more for the community that has showered support on me. It feels wrong for me to be called a “pioneer” or to be called “brave.” I don’t feel like either of those things. I waited so long. Too long. I wasn’t brave then, but I am trying to be now. I want the younger generations of queer players to have a much better and safer experience than I did. 

So that they feel safe enough to be true to themselves, and hopefully, to not lose precious time and people—like I have.

Were there times you felt unsafe in the MHL?

S: Not..physically. But emotionally, yes. Locker room talk is—well, let’s just say that a lot of terms are thrown around in poor taste. Most guys don’t mean anything about it, they don’t even realize some of the things they say are so problematic. But some guys, some guys know exactly what they are doing.

How have the Montreal Metros supported you after you came out?

I would not like to comment on my standing with the Metros at this time. I would like to keep that separate from this story.

Fair enough. Last question. What would you say to your eighteen year old self, at the start of your Rookie Year, if you could tell him just one thing as the man you are today?

S: I would tell him that one day he will be asked to be brave in order to save the thing he loves most in the world—and under no circumstances should he say no. He should choose to be brave.

Thank you so much for your time today, Shane. It was truly a pleasure.

S: Thank you for having me.

Shane walked me out to my car. He grinned widely and waved me off as I drove down the long graveled road that exited his large property. I couldn’t help but grin back. I don’t know all the things that he has been through, but he had clearly been carrying some heavy burdens caused by being closeted for so long.

I, and his very large community of fans, hope that he feels just a little lighter—now living his truth as an openly gay man.

April 10, 2017 | Ottawa

—Ilya—

“What the fuck is happening.” Ilya grumpily lumbered down the stairs. Someone was pounding loudly on his door. He flung it open, “what the hell do you—Sveta?”

Svetlana pushed past Ilya and stormed into his kitchen.

“What the fuck, Ilyusha??”

“I think that that is actually my line.”

“Did you read it? Did you fucking read it??”

Ilya sighed. He walked into the kitchen, motioning for Svetlana to take a seat at his countertop bar. He started pulling out the necessary supplies for this conversation—two glasses and an ice cold bottle of imported Russian vodka.

After they both had drinks in hand, he finally answered.

“Yes, I read it.”

“And?!”

“And what? It changes nothing.”

“Ilyusha. It changes everything. He is still in love with you.”

“He is not.”

“Don’t piss me off right now, I took a red eye from Chicago to Ottawa, and I am not to be fucked with right now.”

“Fine. Even if he is still in love with me, it doesn’t matter. I am with Anderson.”

“Fuck Anderson. He is like if a vanilla bean fucked a mozart song and made a little smart boring baby who smelled nice and grew up to be a fancy snooze fest.”

“Wow.”

“And who even likes doctors?”

“Last time we spoke you called him an angel sent from god and asked me to remind you when his birthday was so that you could schedule a flower delivery.”

“Pff. That was before I knew that the one true love of your life is still fucking in love with you!”

Ilya’s shoulder’s slumped, his face turned away. “It is too late for us.”

“Says who?” 

“Says me, Sveta.” Ilya raised his voice by a fraction, not enough to startle, but enough to break his failing illusion of non-chalance. 

“He fucking broke my heart. I asked him to choose me and he didn’t. Then less than a year after I come out, he suddenly decides to join me? He could’ve done it just two years earlier and..and—and fuck, we’d be married by now. Maybe we’d be starting a family.”

Svetlana’s body had gone rigid, her glass of vodka had frozen midway to her mouth. Apparently shocked by how much Ilya had chosen to share. But his past year of therapy had really started paying off in the honesty department. And, he was so fucking tired of Shane Hollander’s bullshit.

“We lived in secret for five years. He was the one who proposed to me. He let me believe..Sveta, I thought he would choose me. But he fucking let me walk away. He let me come out alone. He let me start dating another man. Silence—I got nothing. Not a text. Not even an accidental midnight Instagram like. Just a public statement of support. Like we are fucking colleagues. And then he goes to a fucking journalist and..when I was finally trying to move on..and..and—” his voice broke off in a sob.

“And he is apologizing, Ilyshenka. He put his heart out for the entire world to see—hoping that you’d read between the lines. Every single person who knows about you and Shane knows exactly who he did that interview for.”

“He broke my heart.” Ilya’s voice cracked.

“I know, my love. I know. But maybe he is also the only person in the world who can put it back together.”

Chapter 34: An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse

Early Summer, 2017 | Montreal

—Shane—

“Ottawa? Are you sure?”

“Yes, Shane. They gave you the best offer of any team. A competitive contract with a hefty sign on bonus, a no-trade agreement, five year commitment. And I’ve done my research Shane, it’s a good team. Good people. No assholes, no homophobic bullshit.”

Shane’s throat was closing.

“Thank you, Farah. Please send over the paperwork. I will do a final review and sign.”

“Shane..” He heard Farah sigh on the other line. “This isn’t my place. I shouldn’t even be asking this, it’s unprofessional..but. Shane, will you be okay playing on the same team as Ilya? You guys..well. It didn’t end on a great note, right? And your long history, both professional and..personal..”

Shane had informed his agent about his history with Ilya, he wanted for her to be prepared if the news was somehow leaked one day.

“I will be okay. Don’t worry, Farah. That is all in the past. Thank you for..thank you for caring enough to be unprofessional. You probably hated it.”

“Yeah I fucking hated it. I won’t be doing that shit again.”

Shane laughed.

“Text me when you’ve signed. And Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“From the moment you sign, you have exactly ten hours before it hits the press. That is how long it takes for it to go through management and legal. And then the whole world knows. So if you need to..well. You know. Ten hours. That’s all you’ll have.”

“Thank you, Farah. Understood.”

“Good. Congrats, kid. This is a good thing. Good people on that team. You’ll do just great.”

Shane reviewed the paperwork and signed. He closed his laptop, cracked open a beer (this was not the time for non-alcoholic beverages) and closed his eyes. He leaned against the wall of his kitchen, inhaling and exhaling in deep slow motions.

Shane needed to call Ilya.

Shane’s hands were shaking. His brow was damp. He and Ilya hadn’t spoken since the moment Ilya walked out of his apartment after their break up.

He pulled his phone in and out of his pocket on five separate occasions. Pacing the room, wearing a path in his living room rug.

I wanted to tell you that I am coming to the Centaurs. Please don’t kill me. And how serious is the whole Anderson thing because..

No, no.

I am joining the Centaurs, I am sorry for ruining your life. So, is your new relationship a permanent thing, or..

Fuck.

Okay, no.

Ilya, I signed with the Centaurs. I can’t wait to play with your team. Please don’t punch me. Also I am still in love with you please break up with the fucking doctor already.

Fuck.

Finally, he huffed out a breath. He was running out of time. The press release would go out in exactly three hours.

He reached for his phone for a sixth time, scrolled through his contacts, and pressed the call button for Lily.

“Shane?”

Ilya answered on the fourth ring. Shane gasped inaudibly. He had heard Ilya’s voice frequently, of course, in interviews, in overheard conversations with his teammates at games—but hearing it on his phone, saying his name—was something entirely else.

“Shane? Are you okay? Yuna, David, Rose, the Pikes? Is everyone—”

“Hi. Hi. Yes, sorry.” Oh my god, Shane sounded like an idiot. Fuck, he was already off to a terrible start—freaking out Ilya by calling him out of the blue and then being ominously silent when he picked up the phone.

“I, I um. I have something I need to tell you. Something that I needed you to hear directly from me.”

Shane thought he heard Ilya’s breath stop on the other side of the line.

“What is it.”

Shane took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say next.

“I decided to leave the Metros. They have been..terrible, frankly, since I came out. I..I can’t play for a team like that anymore. My agent put out feelers to the entire league, with my stipulations. Good team culture fit, no assholes, no-trade policy.” 

Shane was rambling, he knew he was rambling. He was avoiding saying the impossible thing he had to reveal. Ilya was silent, letting Shane speak. He was apparently still as patient as ever with Shane’s need to over-explain when he was nervous.

“And, uh. Well, um….uh. They made me a perfect offer. Everything I wanted. And more.”

“Who is they? Ilya’s voice was hard but quiet, as if bracing for impact.

“Ottawa. They made me the best offer. I’m starting the new season as a Centaur.”

Silence permeated the hundreds of miles between them. Falling over Shane’s body like ice cold rain.

Shane plowed on. “I..um, I wanted to tell you myself. Before the press breaks later today. I’ve only just signed the final offer, no one knows outside of my agent, the Centaur’s management team, and Coach Weib. And now..uh..you.”

Ilya’s voice was quiet. Unsettlingly so. Then finally, “what position?”

“Um..uh.” Shane hesitated. Out of the hundreds of reactions he had rehearsed for, Ilya had gone off script in his very first question. Of course he was asking what fucking position Shane was playing. 

“Right wing. First line.”

“That is Bood’s position.”

“Yes, um. They told me that Bood had talked to Coach Weib at the end of last season, asking if he could be moved down to the second line. Something about..uh, preparing for retirement. His body getting battered up too much.” Shane paused, “Ilya, I—”

“Thank you. For telling me. I have to go. I have a..thing.”

“A thing. Okay, yeah. Well, thank you for..picking up.”

“Goodbye, Shane.”

“Goodbye, Ilya.”

Chapter 35: Onward is the Only Option

Late Summer, 2017 | Shane’s Cottage | Ottawa

—Shane—

Shane was reading in bed when Rose called.

“Hey, how’s New York?”

“Hey, hon! New York was fab, but guess where I am right now?”

Shane heard his doorbell.

“Hold on Rose, someone’s at the door.”

Shane took the stairs quickly, and opened the door.

“Surprise!!!”

“Oh my god, Rose! What are you..when did you..hi!” Shane suddenly felt fifty pounds lighter.

“Are ya going to let me in, or should I make camp out here?”

“Shut up, get in here.”

Rose sauntered in, pulling an expensive looking carry-on behind her.

“Are you staying?” Shane sounded hopeful.

“If you’ll have me. I’m not due back on set for a week, they are shifting crews to our new location. I needed Shane time.”

“I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Rose’s expression of joy faded into something more serious. 

“Shane..” She sighed and came over to give him a massive bear hug. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you so much too.” 

“So…” 

Rose had just broken the comfortable silence that fell between them while they lounged on the couch.

Shane raised his head and saw Rose’s expression.

“Oh no.”

“Don’t, ‘oh no’ me.” She kicked him lightly in the shin.

“So, I was thinking.”

“Mhm.”

“I am hosting a little party next week at my house in Malibu, and you should come. You neeed to come. It’ll be so fun, and it’s your last chance to come visit before the season starts.”

“Rose..if this is about—”

“Shaane, please. Just listen. Trevor is perrrfect for you. He is fucking hot. Let’s just get that one out of the way. But he’s also funny, interesting, and well traveled. And he says please and thank you to the PAs, which believe it or not, is my anti-asshole barometer.”’

“Rose, you know I’m not over Ilya. I don’t know if I ever will be. I am still in love with him.”

Rose’s face screwed into a well-worn expression of grief and empathy.

“I know, honey. I know. This won’t be that. Nothing..nothing can be you and Ilya. But, maybe..just maybe, you’ll at least like him a little? Enough to try to go on at blind date?”

“We are both public figures and have mutual friends, and have actually met before. I don’t think it counts as a blind date.”

“Ugh, Shane, always with the facts!” But she was giggling.

“Come onnn, just try it. One date. He lights up like a Christmas tree every time he hears your name. I guess you made quite the impression on him at the wrap party.”

Shane hesitated for more than a few seconds.

“Fine. Fine. One date. And if it goes terribly, you choose me over him in the break up.”

“Shane. I’d choose you over anyone.”

Fall, 2017 | Shane’s Apartment | Ottawa

—Shane—

“Hey, so..you with me, sexy?” 

Shane was startled. He had completely zoned out while he and Trevor were having a movie night. Oh yeah, and Trevor liked to call Shane sexy. He hated it.

“Yes, sorry. I zoned out. Tired from the start of the season.

“No worries.” Trevor didn’t seem to notice that Shane was already definitely not worried. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What’s that?”

“Look, I know you’re only freshly out..but..dating a man who is out to the world as gay—but you are in the closet as a couple—it’s kind of giving me flashbacks to my college improv club trauma, when Topher Smith didn’t want to tell people that we were dating because ‘it reduced his appeal to the single gay male demographic.’ I was always like, um, Topher, this is community college there is no demographic here worth worrying about.”

“Trevor, I am very lost right now.”

Shane categorized how he felt about Trevor in the same bucket has he put things like—his protein shake tasting okay that day, his skates being the right amount of broken in, or his chicken not being too dry. All things he just didn’t really think about much, because they were neither amazing nor terrible experiences. Just, kind of part of his day.

Maybe that wasn’t fair. In fact, it really wasn’t. Shane was dating a super hot actor, with massive muscles and a chiseled jaw. He was number five in CelebrityNow’s Hottest Man on Earth list, 2016 edition.

And, Rose was right. Trevor was funny, and sexy, and polite. 

After their first date, they went on a second, then a third. 

Even though he and Shane were both out, they kept things confidential. Shane knew from first hand experience the shocking level of interest the public showed when an actor and athlete started dating. Plus, it would be Shane’s first-ever public relationship with a man—and he could only imagine the attention that would get.

The sex thing was interesting. Shane had hooked up with a couple of guys since coming out. He figured he was safe to do it now, and well, his dry spell had gotten pretty bleak. Sex with Trevor was intense, but a completely opposite intensity than what he had with Ilya. With Ilya, it was passion. Ilya fucked him like it was worship. It was love. 

Trevor liked it fast and to the point. Not much preamble.

Shane honestly preferred it that way. It didn’t give him enough time to get existential about it not being Ilya inside of him. 

In the end, Trevor was fine. He was just fine. But he wasn’t Ilya.

“—And then Jennifer had the audacity to say that he should’ve got the part over me!”

Shane startled again, not knowing how long he had zoned out again. It seemed like Trevor hadn’t noticed because he was still rambling on about drama in his sophomore year improv class.

“Mm, wow. That sucks.” 

Shane hoped that that was the right response. He was tired. And was kind of hoping that Trevor didn’t want to stay over tonight, he needed some time to himself to mentally prepare for what was going to happen next week.

Five days from now, he was playing his first game with the Centaurs. With Ilya Rozanov. And Ilya was going to be his captain. And Shane was moving to right wing for the first time in his decade-long career.

It was a lot to process while Trevor was droning on about some guy named..Topher?

“Well, thank you for listening. Feels good to get that old shit off my chest.” Trevor gave Shane a warm smile.

“Yes, of course.” 

Shane must’ve not let on that he had zoned out on three separate occasions. When Trevor talked, he seemed mostly concerned about himself being entertained, not so much the people listening.

“So anyway, what I mean is that I think we should go public. Get out of the proverbial closet as a couple.”

Shane was suddenly not tired whatsoever. His adrenaline had spiked, his hands were clammy. 

“We..uh, we had agreed that we don’t want it to turn into a whole media racket, right?”

“Yeaaah, but it’s been like four months. That’s a long time to hide.” 

Shane wanted to punch a wall. No, he wanted to punch fucking Trevor. But instead, he laughed. He actually laughed.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“Nothing, it’s just—” Shane kept laughing—”I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just, I was closeted for eleven years, and for almost half of that time I was…” He paused, he actually didn’t want Trevor to know about any of that. “Nevermind, I’m sorry. For you it must feel like a long time. You’ve been out for much longer than I have.”

“And I totally empathize with that.” 

Did he? Shane was skeptical. 

“I just really can’t hide anymore. So, if you can’t do this, I think I’m out.”

Shane’s heart suddenly felt cold. He was triggered by the all-to-familiar words. “I am tired of hiding, I am sick of it. I can’t do it anymore.” The last words Ilya spoke before walking out of Shane’s life.

“Can I..look, can I have a couple of days to think about it?”

Trevor’s face brightened, “yeah, sexy! Take a few days. Let me know.”

Oh god, was he really going to go public for a man who kept calling him sexy like he was some kind of teenage pop star?

Chapter 36: This Changes Things

Winter, 2017 | Ottawa

—Ilya—

He and Anderson had hit a slump. It had nothing to do with the fact that Shane joined the team three months ago and was now parading his hot new celebrity boy toy around. Nope, it had nothing to fucking do with that.

They had just..slumped. The sex was bad. Really bad. And Ilya didn’t do bad sex. He was absolutely mortified when one day Anderson asked, all politely and hushed “Is it..is it the depression meds? I know that they can affect libido, and—”

Fucking. Humiliating.

Bickering was never a part of their relationship, there really wasn’t enough passion to inspire bickering. 

That was one of the things he missed most about Shane. He was constantly nagging Ilya, bossing him around, telling him how he did things the wrong way—Ilya loved it. He started getting a little hard just thinking about Shane’s angry pinched up face. When was he going to stop getting a semi at the mere thought of Shane?

He has been more or less successful at scrubbing images of Shane from his mind, before Shane moved to Ottawa, Ilya was only jerking off to memories of Shane like once a week. Okay, twice maybe—or four or five times—who had time to keep track. 

But now, Shane was everywhere. He was glistening and naked in the showers. He was constantly in slutty states of undress in the lockers. Ilya had to hear him laugh at Hazy’s stupid jokes, or ask about Bood’s wife, or give stupidly good advise to Haas. 

It was infuriating, being reminded constantly just how fucking sexy his ex was. How good he was. Not just on the ice, but as a human. 

The team instantly loved him. They called him “Hollzy” “Halls” “Hollanator” “Hall Pass”—that one was started by Harris, to Troy’s horror. “Babe, you know I would never!” They fought about it for a week straight while the rest of the guys cracked up and explicitly used the nickname to piss off Troy.

Ilya pointedly called Shane nothing other than “Hollander.”

Ilya and Anderson needed a reset. They just needed to reconnect. That was all. Nothing was broken, it just..needed more attention.

“Let’s do a trip.” He said, one night in bed.

“That sounds great. Where?”

“I was thinking long weekend in New York. We have a game there next week, and then a three day break. You can come meet me. We will stay in fancy hotel, drink ridiculous amounts of champaign, see a show maybe. And Lisa keeps bragging about this restaurant that Hazy took her to last year. I thought we could check it out.”

“Wow, you’ve thought this through.” Anderson looked fondly at Ilya. “Of course, I’d love to. Let’s go to New York.”

—Shane—

“Shane!”

“Hey Rose, what’s up?”

Rose had called Shane late at night, but was somehow bouncing with as much energy as always.

“You have a three day break after your New York game tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“Welll, what are you doing? Do you have any plans that will need to be cancelled so that you can do the thing I want you to do?”

Shane laughed, “no plans.”

“Ooh, perfect! Our filming out here wraps tomorrow. Excellent timing. You and Trevor should come spend a long weekend with me and some of the gang!”

“I don’t know, I’ll be tired..”

“Come on, Shane, I will have energy for both of us. Annnd, I might have made a romantic reservation for you and Trevor at the hottest restaurant in Manhattan. They apparently overnight ship their fish straight from the Caspian Sea.”

“That does not sound environmentally friendly.”

Rose laughed with glee at her best friend showing some life.

“Is that a yes?? Please tell me that it’s a yes.”

“Yes, Rose. Yes. Trevor and I will spend the weekend with you in New York.”

“Yay!”

Chapter 37: Send My Love (To Your New Lover)

Two Days Later | New York City

—Ilya—

The last thing that Ilya felt like doing tonight was going to a fancy dinner with Anderson. Their trip to New York had been a disaster. Big surprise, being in a different city didn't fix the chasm that was growing between them.

He thought about faking being sick, but he was pretty sure that his doctor boyfriend would call bullshit. And he wasn’t ready for the conversation with Anderson that was looming around the corner. We need to break up, I am in love with someone else.

He dressed in his best clothes, trying to look the part of a doting partner. Anderson looked good, but it was wasted on Ilya—all he could think about was that Shane would look incredible in that shade of blue.

The restaurant was surprisingly welcoming, he expected it to be a stuffy snooze fest. When they entered the wide foyer, they walked past the long line of disgruntled customers, going straight to the hostess. She was an old friend of Sveta’s, which is how they got last minute reservations to a restaurant with a six month waiting list. Ilya thought he remembered Svetlana saying that the chef flies in her fish fresh daily from some Mediterranean Sea.

As the hostess walked them to their table, Ilya had a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t explain. He suddenly felt like vomiting. Maybe he was sick.

They sat at a table close to the wall on the right side of the restaurant, Ilya was sitting facing the many tables full of loving couples and friends catching up. Laughter and the sounds of clinking glasses filled the room.

Anderson was speaking but he only caught half of it.

“—babe?”

“Huh, yes? Sorry.”

Anderson sighed, “it’s okay. I said I am going to go wash up.”

“Yes. Okay.”

Anderson stood and turned to head to the bathroom, but he paused, staring at a table diagonal to them, about two meters away from their own table.

“Hey, isn’t that your new teammate?”

Ilya’s heart dropped to his feet. His breath started to squeeze painfully out of his chest. Maybe he was talking about a rookie. Or that transfer, Smithy. Or anyone but—

“It is! It’s Shane Hollander. Should we go say hi?”

Ilya had still not looked up. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. His hands were shaking, flapping the menu enough to be audible. His lips were dry. His tongue suddenly felt like cotton.

“Babe? Hello?”

Ilya closed his eyes and inhaled deeply—and then he looked up.

Shane was on the side of the table facing Ilya. He looked gorgeous. He had let his hair grow out enough to style it in waves. His skin was tanned, remnants of the warm summer spent at the cottage. He was smiling with his whole face at something fucking Trevor said. 

It was his first time seeing them alone together. 

Ilya tried to analyze everything all at once—they were not holding hands, but Trevor’s hand was laid out on the table—would they hold hands after Shane was done looking at the menu? Did Shane think Trevor was funny, or was he just being polite? Was Shane falling in love?

Trevor was handsome. He looked the part of a male lead. And he had just leaned over to playfully nudge Shane on the shoulder. Ilya hated him.

“No, we shouldn’t disturb their..date.” Ilya felt bile rise in his throat.

Anderson looked curiously at Ilya, and dug his heels in. “You’re his captain, we should at least say hi.”

If Ilya had been asked just then—what is the last thing in the world that he would want to be doing right now—saying “hi” to Shane’s boyfriend was at the very bottom. In fact, it was below getting murdered and being abducted by aliens.

Anderson tugged Ilya’s wrist, pulling him out of his seat. Ilya finally stood, his legs felt like lead.

They walked over to the table, the movement of two large men caught Shane’s eye, he looked up and the color left his face when he stared directly into Ilya’s eyes.

“Hi guys! Shane, we haven’t met yet, so I wanted to come over and introduce myself to Ilya’s new teammate. He was being all polite and not wanting to disturb you guys. But I insisted on meeting the famous Shane Hollander.”

Shane blanched. His mouth gaped open. Ilya could see a familiar look of panic clouding his eyes—and Ilya felt the insane urge to walk over, grab the back of his neck softly, and kiss him. Instead, he stood pinned to the ground.

“And you must be Trevor Rainney, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your work.”

Trevor’s hideously handsome face split into a grin at the compliment. Ilya wanted to punch his teeth out.

“Oh, well, thank you. I heard that you’re a doctor? For kids and stuff? That’s pretty cool.”

Anderson returned his grin. Great. This is great. Maybe they can start dating each other and Ilya can leave this restaurant and throw himself into a river.

“You guys should join us!” Trevor gestured to the empty table next to them, “I’ll ask Sherry to combine these tables.”

“No.” Shane spoke for the first time, startling all three men. “Um..I mean, no, Trevor they are on a…” Shane looked like wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

“That’s a great idea, I’d love to get to know you better Shane. You’re Ilya’s new linemate, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” Anderson was already scanning the room to help flag down the hostess. 

Shane flinched when Anderson used Ilya’s name. Ilya tried not to assume anything about what his devastated facial expressions meant. He had moved on too. What right does he have to be upset to see Ilya on a date? But the infuriating instinct to wrap him up in a comforting hug was making him itch all over.

This entire night was a fucking disaster.

“Sherry! Hey honey, do you mind moving these lovely gentlemen to sit with us. I’d appreciate it so very much.” Trevor winked at the hostess, who blushed and waved over some waiters to help her combine the tables.

The next sixty minutes were the worst of Ilya’s life to-date. Neither Shane nor Ilya spoke at all, leaving Trevor and Anderson to animatedly talk about a TV drama Trevor was starring in. “A pediatric surgeon? No way! What a coincidence, I will have to watch it to see how accurate it is.” 

Eventually, Trevor excused himself to the restroom.

Ilya took the opportunity to speak to Shane for the first time that night.

“So, Trevor, huh? Nice guy.”

“Don’t.”

“What, I say nothing.”

“Ilya. Stop.”

“What—you don’t care what I think, solnyshko, do you?” Ilya was being nasty. He knew that he was being nasty.

“Of course not, why should I? Aren’t we both so happy for each other?” Shane snapped back, glaring at Ilya.

He had forgotten how sassy Shane could get when he was backed into a corner. His face was all pinched up like an angry tiger. Ilya was suddenly and extremely inappropriately turned on.

Anderson’s glass of wine was frozen halfway to his mouth. He was bouncing his eyes between Ilya and Shane.

“So-lyn-shko?” Anderson spoke in a cold tone, turning to face Ilya. “Ilya, what does that word mean?”

Ilya and Shane both were stunned into silence. Ilya hadn’t even realized he had called Shane his old pet name. Apparently Shane hadn’t either, because he looked equally like a deer in headlights.

“Nothing, it means nothing. Nevermind. I am tired now, we should—”

“No. No, it doesn’t mean ‘nothing’. I hear Svetlana call you that sometimes. It is some kind of nickname.” Anderson tried to catch Ilya’s eye, but Ilya was avoiding his gaze. “Ilya, tell me, what does it mean?”

Ilya coughed, still not looking at Anderson, “it means..ah..it means…” Ilya exhaled, “it means sunshine.”

Ilya wanted to die. He actually wanted to die. Maybe a heart attack, or, a fainting spell that would cause him to fall and crack his skull open. His gravestone would read Here Lies Ilya Rozanov, a Fucking Idiot.

Anderson inhaled sharply. “Oh my god. It’s him—isn’t it?” When Ilya was silent, still not looking anywhere close to Anderson’s face, the man continued in a harshly hushed voice. “Shane is your ex? The terrible break up? Fuck, that’s why you’ve been acting so weird these past few months—fuck, I’m such an idiot.” He stood, “let’s go back to the hotel. We need to talk. Privately.”

Ilya didn’t move, he and Shane were staring blankly at each other, both of them heaving ragged breaths that visibly slammed their chests up and down.

“No.” Ilya responded to Anderson without looking up.

“No?” Anderson threw his hands up in a frustrated motion. “Are you serious right now?” Ilya remained silent, but he finally looked at Anderson’s face, and nodded once. “Fuck. Fine. I will leave then. But, Ilya, if you let me leave right now—we’re done.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Fucking unbelievable.”

Anderson left, which meant that it was only Shane and Ilya at the table. Trevor was somehow still in the bathroom. The fucking dickhead was probably snorting coke.

Ilya’s heart was pounding.

“How can you do this to me?” He whispered painfully, “how can you sit there, and..and..with that asshole—“

“Me? Do this to you?” Shane laughed without humor. “Wow. That’s great. Just great. Fucking rich coming from you.”

“You didn’t choose me Shane. You said you weren’t ready to come out and then less than a year later you not only come out, you join my fucking team and then you start fucking a fucking movie star. And you didn’t even—“

“Heeey, sexy, what’s—oh, did Anderson have to head out?” Trevor had appeared out of thin air, putting his hands on Shane’s shoulders. “Too bad, I was going to ask you guys to join us for the rest of the night. Oh well, Shane, should we go hit the clubs? My buddy Mason and some of his crew wants to meet up at Club Loon.”

Shane looked at Ilya with cold eyes, and his jaw clenched. He hesitated for a long moment.

Ilya hoped without reason, that Shane would stay. His mind was swirling with thoughts. Don’t leave. Stay with me. Fight with me. Stay.

“Uh..no, you go ahead. I have to..talk..team stuff. With Ilya.”

Ilya’s heart was now pounding in his ears. He is staying. He is choosing to stay with Ilya.

As usual, Trevor seemed enmeshed in his own world, and didn’t think anything about the situation was out of the ordinary, “okay! See you later, sexy.” 

Trevor swooped down in the direction of Shane’s mouth, but Shane had bent over to rummage around in his pockets. He responded to Trevor without looking up or returning the motion to kiss. “Yeah, have fun.”

Trevor shrugged and bounded out of the restaurant.

Ilya and Shane were now alone. The sudden silence was deafening.

—Ilya—

“Thank you..for staying.”

Shane huffed out a tired breath, and then attempted a joking tone, “well, it felt like an asshole move to leave, since you just had your heart broken five minutes ago.”

Ilya’s body stiffened. 

“What do you mean?“

“I mean, you and Anderson? He literally just broke up with you. You guys were together for a while, you must feel terrible right now.”

Ilya let out a breathy laugh that caught them both by surprise, he looked at Shane in confusion. Then he shook his head, sighing deeply.

“Shane, my heart has only been broken once. And it wasn’t because of a man named Anderson.”

[FLASHBACK: December, 2015 | Ottawa]

It was the seven year anniversary of the 2008 Junior World Championships. The first time Ilya saw Shane in person. The first time his heart jumped into his throat at the mere sight of the man that would later become the axis upon which his entire world spun.

Ilya was sitting in his driveway, at war with himself. He was about to make the two hour drive to Montreal and beg Shane to forgive him, to take him back. 

“Choose me. Pick me. Choose us over hockey."

Was there really a choice offered in that question? Did he really give Shane a choice? Or did Ilya just back Shane into an impossible corner and then just give up far too easily when he didn’t get his way.

Maybe no amount of love could survive an ultimatum like that. Ilya asked Shane to risk losing the career he built through sweat, blood and tears. To come out to a world that would punish him, simply because he was gay. Asking him to risk being traded to a lesser team at the height of his success. To give the league yet another reason to other him. Because Shane didn’t fit the mold that they had built around him in layers and layers of suffocating brick and mortar. Until Shane felt like he had no path out that didn’t end in self destruction.

“Please. Ilya, please don’t..don’t..It’s just not that simple for me, it’s not me choosing hockey over you.”

“You think this is simple for me, Shane? You think this is easy? You are worth it, because you are everything to me. You are worth losing everything else for.”

Ilya winced at the memory of his own harsh words. 

Shane was the love of his life, Ilya knew that he could never love someone else the way he loves Shane. 

“What the hell had he been thinking by breaking up with the only man he had ever loved?” 

Ilya could wait—he would wait. He could hide, for as long as Shane needed—he could hide their love from the world. 

He could do it…right?

*Ping*

Ilya looked down at his phone, his “Shane Hollander” news alert had sent him an article from one of those pop culture sites. “Are On Again Off Again Hockey Superstar Shane Hollander and Actress Rose Landry Back Together?”

He rolled his eyes, the media loved this narrative—the only thing “on” about Rose and Shane was their annoyingly similar senses of humor and shared passion for cheesy murder mystery films. 

That didn’t stop him from clicking into the article, because he knew that he’d get to see photos of Shane.

What he didn’t expect was for his heart to drop when he swiped two photos down and saw a photo with Miles.

Miles was Rose’s other incredibly handsome gay friend, also closeted as far as Ilya understood—a famously masculine male lead who couldn’t afford to be publicly into fucking men.

Ilya had never been concerned about him, but now his hand was frozen on the photo where Miles’ hand was placed discreetly on Shane’s lower back. No one else would notice. Because no one else would be looking past the stunning dress hugging Rose’s body, or the equally stunning loose fitted jeans and perfectly tailored sweater that showed off Shane’s broad shoulders.

But Ilya noticed it. Just like he noticed the way that Miles was looking at Shane.

A lump grew in his throat, threatening to choke him.

He frantically swiped through the photos to find more evidence—evidence? He sounded insane. But his heart was racing.

In another photo, Shane was laughing at something, Ilya couldn’t tell if it was because of Rose or Miles.

The photo at the very bottom of the article is what served as the final nail in the coffin.

It wasn’t with Miles. It was just Rose and Shane, arm-in-arm laughing and smiling. The caption underneath said “omg, couple goals!”

His mind stopped racing, replaced now with a tinny silence. 

This wasn’t about Miles, Ilya knew that Shane would never do that to him, moving on so quickly after they just went through a horrible break up. 

What he felt wasn’t even anger. It was heartbreak. A devastating, all-consuming heartbreak that felt like Ilya was drowning with no hope of coming up for air.

He was grieving the fact that these photos represented everything that Ilya wanted—to be free, to be claimed—and it was the one thing that Shane could not give him. Seeing it so blatantly flaunted, in a news alert that he had set up for the man he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with—it was too much. And it broke his resolve to go try to fix things, some things just can’t be fixed. 

He put his phone back in his pocket, got out of his car, and went back inside.

[BACK TO PRESENT]

“You were going to come back?” Shane gaped at Ilya. “That day, the anniversary of the Juniors, you were going to come back?”

Ilya grimaced. “Yes, but I was a coward. I saw you and Rose in those photos..and I was…I was just too broken. Too jealous. Too afraid. Too prideful, maybe. I felt tossed aside. I felt like..like I was nothing to you.”

“Ilya..I’m..” Shane’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Ilya, you are—”

“It’s okay Shane, really. I have you here now, we can be friends right? We can be in each other's lives without tearing each other apart. We aren’t those men anymore. We can be something new.”

“Yes, but, Ilya, I..” Shane trailed off. His eyes wide and shimmering with emotion.

Ilya paused for a long moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he was fighting against his next words. Shane allowed the silence to soften the air between them. 

“I should have waited for you, Shane.” Ilya took a sharp inhale, he couldn’t believe that he was really going to say this in a fucking five star restaurant—in front of his half eaten fish flown in from the Caspian Sea.

Ilya suddenly felt panicked, he already regretted revealing so much to Shane. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ear drums. There was something more that he needed to say, something that he had been wanting to say to Shane since the moment he walked into the Centaurs’ locker room at the start of the season. Ilya felt chills creeping over his entire body, his skin had goose bumps all over and his lips were freezing. His breath stuttered in and out of his lungs. 

But he plunged onward, determined to say the words that have haunted him for a year.

“I am sorry for putting you in an impossible situation. You were worth fighting for. It is my only regret in life. Not waiting. I should have waited for you.” Ilya’s voice cracked. “I am sorry for ruining us. I am so sorry.”

Ilya moved to get up from the table and leave—a scene that felt like an exact mirror of the worst day in his life. 

The energy between them became so heavy that it felt difficult to breathe. 

“I should, uh..I..um.. I need sleep. I fly out early tomorrow” Ilya stuttered out his words.

Shane looked in shock, reeling from Ilya’s confession. 

—Shane—

I should have waited for you. 

Shane’s head felt light and dizzy, he watched Ilya move to get up and his throat constricted in panic.

“Ilya, no, no, please don’t leave. I..I, you need to know that you..that you mean..” 

What was he going to say?

Everything, you mean everything to me. 

I was miserable in those photos. My heart was shattered. I wasn’t sleeping, I could barely eat. Rose forced me to get out of the house, she made me laugh when the paparazzi showed up, about how they would write that we were back together. If I had known that the first time I laughed in months would be the reason I wouldn’t laugh again for the next year—I would have never have left my fucking house. I would have sat in misery waiting for you. I would do anything to take that laugh back knowing that it was the reason I lost you twice.

Can you forgive me? Can we build something new? Can you ever love me again? 

I love you, I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you—before I even got to be alone with you in the same room. Even while having to wait years and years to finally feel your touch. 

I wish I had chosen you. I should have chosen you. It is my one and only regret in life. And I will never forgive myself for losing you. I want there to be an us again. I want it all with you, if it’s not too late. If you’ll still have me.

Shane cleared his throat again. He didn’t have the courage to say all of that, but he had to say something, anything. He couldn’t let Ilya walk away again. 

He needed to ask the burning question that had been haunting him for months. Shane had almost blurted it out a few times while standing next to Ilya at the gym, or on the ice during practice, or in the locker rooms after Ilya had said something to make the whole room laugh.

Shane had been feeling so guilty for everything Ilya had been through, that Shane had put him through. But Ilya saying “I should have waited for you.” It triggered the bravery to ask.

Because Shane couldn’t understand why Ilya would say that. He couldn’t understand why Ilya would say that when it was Shane who spent the past year waiting for him.

“You said that you regretted not waiting for me. Why?”

Ilya looked stunned, “because I do. It’s the truth. I regret it.”

“No, why did you say it like that?”

“Like what? Shane, I am confused.”

“Why did you say it like you were the one waiting?” Shane was growing angry, he didn’t intend it to, but he was suddenly furious. His voice was becoming stunted and hot.

“Shane, what do you mean? What are you saying?“ 

Ilya’s confusion infuriated him even more.

“I told you that I wouldn’t make you wait. I told you that I was ready. That I was ready to go public. But you never fucking called me back. After I begged and begged for you to come back. After I promised to try, after I promised to be brave for you. For us.” Shane’s heart was in his stomach, his eyes were glistening, his cheeks were flushed. 

“Ilya, why did you say that you regret not waiting—when you were the one that made me wait? When you were the one who never called me back?” Shane’s choice broke. “Why didn’t you call me back?” 

Ilya looked like Shane had punched him, he responded in a choked voice, “what do you mean? What do you mean, that you begged for me to come back? What do you mean, Shane?”

—Ilya—

Shane paused, he looked equal parts confused, crestfallen, and furious.

“You never called me back, Ilya. You never responded to a single one of my voicemails. I left so many. I bared my heart and soul for you. I called almost every day for thirty-five days straight. And you never—“ 

Shane’s voice broke, a sob tore from his chest. But he continued, fighting for each word.

“I thought that you had moved on, that you could never forgive me for not choosing you the first time you asked. That apologies wouldn’t be enough. That you didn’t believe me when I said I would try. That you decided you couldn’t trust me anymore. Ilya, I would have done anything to get you back. And then, a year later..Anderson..I thought that you had fallen in love with him, and..and it broke me.” 

Shane’s voice cracked, “it broke me.”

“What voicemails?” Ilya’s mind was spinning, his legs were weak, he felt close to vomiting.

“What?” Shane looked angry, “what the fuck do you mean? Don’t fuck with me right now, Ilya.”

“I am not..I would not…I would never—Shane, what voicemails?”

“I left you voicemails almost every day—starting two weeks after we broke up. Every time I called it went straight to your inbox. I thought you were silencing the calls as soon as you saw that it was me. For more than a month I called, knowing that I would just be sent to voicemail again. But I called anyway, hoping, praying that one day you would pick up. It made me feel insane. It made me feel pathetic.” 

Shane was heaving, a wave of panic coming over him. 

“I went to your fucking house, Ilya. On a weekend we both had no games. I tried my door code, it didn’t work. I pounded on the door. I called you fifteen times that day. I sat outside for ten hours—your cars were all in your garage. I could see them through the gate to the yard, but again, my code didn’t work there either.” 

Shane was rushing his words, each stumbling after the next. “I thought you had turned off my codes. I thought you were ignoring me.” Shane shuddered at the memory. 

“It got dark outside. I was crying on your doorstep like a fucking stalker. I thought it was done. Forever. That you could never forgive me. I thought I should take the fucking hint.”

Ilya blanched, his whole body felt ice cold. “Shane. I had blocked your number.” Ilya was on the verge of tears, “I was so angry. So hurt. So..broken. It was stupid. Childish. I was lashing out at you. I didn’t think you would actually call me. It was just me being petty. Trying to hurt you back somehow. It was stupid. So stupid and selfish. After two months, I unblocked it. I was less angry then, just broken. Every day, for the past year, I hoped that you would call me.” 

He continued, “that weekend you came to visit, it was after a big storm. My power went out, the electricity in my entire house went out—the front door and gate locks weren’t working. I crashed at Svetlana’s place in the city center. I wasn’t home for three days.” Ilya whispered, “Shane, if I had known. If I had—“

“Phone calls go both ways, Ilya.” Shane said almost coldly, but his glassy eyes revealed the real pain behind his words.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I felt too humiliated. I..I had already begged for you to choose me once. I was too prideful to try again. I’m sorry, Shane—“

Shane was crestfallen, devastated. “You really never listened to a single voicemail?” His voice cracked on the last words. “And that means…that means..you still haven’t heard any of the things I said to you after we broke up?”

Ilya shook his head, a single tear rolled down his face. 

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know you left any at all. After I unblocked your number, everything was deleted. All of our history…I had nothing..five years, gone forever. I never got the notifications….Shane, you have to believe me. I had no idea you had been calling me.”

Ilya’s own voice was broken at the memory of panic that tore through his body when he realized that he had no trace of Shane left on his phone. How he dropped to the ground and sobbed for hours.

“Go to your deleted messages folder tonight. That is where voicemails from blocked numbers are stored.” Shane sounded heartbroken and exhausted. 

“I might not have chosen you the first time, but I tried to fix it—I tried to get another chance. I tried to tell you that I made a mistake. I tried to choose you again—twenty-seven times. I called you twenty-seven times to tell you that I chose you. But you never picked up the fucking phone.”

“Shane..I—“

“Listen to my voicemails from that month. And then tell me again to my face that it was you who had to wait. Listen, and then tell me to my face that it was me who gave up on us.” His chest was rapidly rising and falling. His jaw was set.

“And for the record, Ilya. I’d still choose you.” His voice broke, “if I thought..if there was a chance that you’d…I’d still choose you.”

Shane’s voice was a rough whisper now. “I am ready to choose you a thousand more times—if it could persuade you to forgive me. If it would make you come back to me…I’d choose you again right now.”

And then Shane stood up from the table, turned on his heel and walked out of the restaurant.

Chapter 38: You Broke Me First, I Broke You Harder

Chapter Notes

The Next Day | Boston

—Ilya—

Ilya was sitting on the couch, nursing his second glass of vodka.

He had found the messages exactly where Shane said they’d be—in his deleted voicemails folder. 

It took two minutes of scrolling through hundreds of blocked spam calls—but eventually he found the messages from the months after their break up. 

He had twenty-seven voicemails from Shane, starting just two weeks after their break up. From the period of time that his number was blocked, which automatically sent every incoming voicemail to the trash folder. 

Shane had left voicemails for Ilya, almost every day for five weeks.

“I tried to choose you again—twenty-seven times.”

When Ilya found the messages, an ice cold feeling passed through his body. His mind became clouded with shame, with regret. His memories of that time were reforming—everything was wrong. The stories he had told himself about Shane not caring enough. That he gave up on them. That he easily chose hockey over him—everything he thought was true about their break up, it was all wrong.

Ilya sat frozen to the spot for over an hour, staring at the first voicemail. He was waiting for courage that had not yet come. He eventually had to accept that there was no vice in the world that would make this experience feel less heart-wrenching.

So Ilya took a deep shaky breath—and pressed play on the first voice message.

4/3/2015 | 00:24

Ilya, I hope that you are okay. I wanted to call and tell you…I was hoping to..I was hoping to talk to you. Maybe we could meet up? When you are ready. I..uh..miss you. I miss you.

4/4/2015 | 00:18

Please talk to me. I know you’re angry. I know I fucked up. Give me a chance to fix it. My heart is aching for you every second of every day.

4/5/2015 | 00:48

I spoke with a discrimination lawyer today. Farah found her for me. I am working with her to see if I have a case to sue, to make demands against a trade if the Metros can’t justify based on performance or business-value. If I can prove that it is just because we are together. 

I am..I’m trying, Ilya. I’m trying to find a path forward for us.

4/6/2015 | 00:32

Good game today. You are amazing. I miss you. I…I love you. Please call me. We will talk. We will find a way forward. Please, just call.

4/7/2015 | 00:19

The lawyer got back to me. She has lots of ideas. Please call me back. I know that you’re angry. I know that you’re hurt. Talk to me. Just talk to me.

4/8/2015 | 01:12

I looked for a therapist today. One that specializes in anxiety disorders. I have..I have a consultation, next week. I want to do better for you, Ilya. I want to be stronger..for us. 

Farah is putting out discreet feelers, figuring out worst case scenarios if the Metros put me up for a trade. Call me back, please.

4/9/2015 | 00:13
Fuck, Ilya! I know you’re pissed, just fucking call me back. Talk to me, fuck!

4/9/2015 | 00:09

I am sorry for yelling. Call me. Please.

4/10/2015 | 00:21

I thought about you today on my run. I couldn’t breathe. I had to sit down for five minutes. I miss you. It hurts. Everything hurts.

4/11/2015 | 00:17

I love you. Forgive me. I will do anything. I fucking love you so much. Call me, please.

4/12/2015 | 00:43

I saw an opening for an apartment in a complex I think you’d really like. It’s a ten minute walk from the Centaur’s stadium.

Well, I mean..if you are..are you still going to the Centaurs?

God, please just fucking talk to me. Tell me what you are thinking. It is driving me crazy. I miss you.

4/13/2015 | 01:48

My lawyer has a case prepared for me. She thinks that I have an excellent chance at winning a lawsuit against the Metros if they can’t prove that they traded me for a legitimate reason. Crowell is full of shit. Call me, I can tell you all about it.

But I want you to know, I want us to come out, even if I do get traded. I am ready to be brave.

Ilya, I can do this. We can do this. I am sorry I wasn’t ready the first time. I am sorry I didn’t choose you the first time. I am ready, I am ready to choose us. I am ready to stop being afraid.

Call me. Just, call me.

4/14/2015 | 00:29

When I got home and unloaded my groceries today–I realized that I had bought cokes and chips without even thinking about it.

Why haven’t you called me back? Ilya, you have to miss me too. I know you do.

Call me. Please. I love you.

4/15/2015 | 01:31

Congratulations on Boston qualifying for finals. That must feel good, closing out your last year strong.

I miss you. God, I miss you. I can’t sleep. I am exhausted. I don’t know how I am even still playing.

I don’t know how..I don’t know how I am going to survive playing against you next week. I hope you are okay. I am worried about you.

I had my first therapy session today. She thinks I have anxiety. If you were here you’d probably say something snarky like ‘oh what makes her think that?’ and I’d roll my eyes...god, I fucking miss you. I love you.

Call me. Please.

4/18/2015 | 00:18

Saw an idiot speeding today, must’ve been going 50 in a 25. Made me think of you. I love you.

4/22/2015 | 00:51

You have a hello from my parents. They don’t know yet. Ilya, don’t make me tell my mom that I made her lose her favorite son. I think they both love you more than me.

Please. I love you more than I love anything in this world. Forgive me. Call me.

4/23/2015 | 00:12

Rough hit yesterday. Hope your ribs are okay. Don’t forget to ice them.

4/24/2015 | 00:07

Just called to say I love you.

4/26/2015 | 00:13

Don’t forget to ice your ribs today. And your right knee.

4/27/2015 | 00:35

Rose says hi. I might tell her soon. I need someone to know. I feel like I am dying, I feel like I am nothing without you. 

Nothing matters anymore. Call me. Please, call me.

4/29/2015 | 00:22

I talked about you in therapy today. Not by name, yet. But if you’re okay with it..if you ever decide to call me back to tell me I can..I’d like to. I’d like to be able to learn to be better for you.

To deserve you again. I want to earn a second chance.

I love you. Always. I will love you, always.

5/3/2015 | 00:37

I am coming to Boston this weekend. I know you don’t have a game. We need to talk, Ilya. I deserve to hear it from you directly. That you will never forgive me. 

That we are over. Forever.

I deserve to hear it from you.

5/7/2015 | 15 missed calls

Ilya? I am..I’m outside. I tried calling. Again. We need to talk. You have to talk to me.

….

Ilya, I’ve called five times. Please just tell me to leave. I will leave you alone. Just tell me. I will wait here until you tell me.

….

It is getting dark. Please, please come talk to me. Please, Ilya.

….

I am going home. Call me if you want me to come back. I will come back. Any time of day or night—just call me and I will come.

5/12/2015 | 00:24

I will never stop loving you, but I am done calling. I am done. 

If you change your mind, if you ever want to try again. I will be here waiting. 

I will be waiting for you, Ilya. I will be waiting for you to call. 

Every day of my life until my last breath. 

I will be waiting for you to call.

That was the final voicemail.

Shane didn’t call again until almost a year later—when he called to tell Ilya that he was coming to play for the Centaurs.

Ilya couldn’t see his own hands—his eyes were too full of tears and his body was shaking too hard from the guttural sobs that wracked his body.

For an entire year, Shane was waiting for Ilya to call him back.

And Ilya had no idea.

Chapter End Notes

REMINDER!!!! Love is hard. Being gay in a homophobic world is hard. No one is perfect. People make mistakes.

HATE COMMENTS OR PLOT CRITIQUES WILL BE DELETED AND USERS WILL BE BLOCKED!!

I am writing for fun, not to be graded. Love yall!!!

Chapter 39: Lights Will Guide You Home

Chapter Notes

Later That Night | Montreal

—Shane—

He wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was almost midnight—so who the hell was knocking insistently at his door? Shane pulled out his phone to check his doorbell video feed, and he nearly dropped the phone on his rush to the door.

“Ilya? It’s so late, what are you, how did you get here? Did you—“

“Shane, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I’m such an asshole. I ruined—“ his voice cracked, “—I ruined us.”

“Come inside.” Shane reached for Ilya’s hand and guided him gently to sit at the dining room table. He then moved to open his scarce alcohol cupboard, pulling out a two year old bottle of Russian vodka.

“No, Shane, do not be—“ Ilya was choking on every word. “—do not be kind to me. I do not..I do not deserve—“

“Let me stop you right there.” Shane sighed and sat across from Ilya. “This whole mess is on both of us.”

“But I didn’t…I was so stupid. And childish, and petty. If I hadn’t..if I just hadn’t..”

“I let you walk away. I gave up on trying to contact you. And if I hadn’t been so blinded by pain—maybe I would have realized that something was wrong, that you would never have ignored me like that. It wasn’t fair to you.” Shane’s voice was heavy with grief, burdened by the pain of what the both went through in the past year. And how many opportunities they had to fix things, if they both had just found each other at the right time.

“Lyubimaya, ty prostish' menya? Can you forgive me? What can I do to fix this?”

“I already have, Ilya. The moment I knew that you had never received my voicemails. The moment I knew that you were not ignoring me, but that you had lashed out from the same pain that I shared with you—I forgave you.”

“I do not deserve this. I was prideful. I ruined—“

“Love is not about deserving, it’s not about earning, it’s not about placing blame.” Shane tentatively reached out for Ilya’s hand, and when he did not pull away, Shane grasped it gently. “I love you. I will always love you. I will never love someone else like I love you. All I need to hear is that you love me too.” His eyes were blurry, his heart bared open on the table between them. “It’s not perfect. It won’t fix things. Maybe we can never fix what happened, maybe it will be a scar we both carry forever. But we can build something new. If you say you want to try again..if you still love me—“

“Shane, moye serdtse, I love you. Fuck, I love you so much. I never stopped loving you. Without you, I would have spent the rest of my life settling for an empty imitation of what we had.” A tear fell down his cheek, and Ilya was crushed by the feeling of the moment, his head dropping into his hands, shaking back and forth. “Forgive me. Forgive me. Moya lyubov', moyo serdtse, moya dusha. My love, forgive me.” His words were coming out rapidly and panicked, his chest heaved with painful breaths.

Shane rose from his chair and moved quickly over to kneel next to Ilya, putting a hand on his back to rub firm comforting circles. “Hey, hey.” Shane tugged on Ilya’s arm, motioning for him to raise his head, but Ilya was wracked with silent sobs, his body convulsing. Shane’s heart clenched, watching the man he loved breaking down in front of him.

“Ilya. Ilya, stop. Come here.” Shane tugged hard this time, Ilya’s body collapsed into his. He fell onto his knees in front of where Shane was bent down before him, and leaned his head onto Shane’s chest. His arms remained at his sides, holding back from touching Shane. 

Shane put his own arms around Ilya, boxing him in, providing a comforting and grounding amount of pressure. Ilya sunk into it, finally putting his own arms around Shane’s waist. 

“Shhh. Shh. That’s enough. That’s enough. I am here now. We are here now. We are here now.”

Chapter End Notes

Lyubimaya, ty prostish' menya? = my love, will you forgive me

Moye serdtse = my heart

Moya lyubov', moyo serdtse, moya dusha = my love, my heart, my soul

Chapter 40: Kiss Me Back to Life

Chapter Notes

Spring, 2018 | Ottawa

—Shane—

“Are you going to come for me, Rozanov?”

“Fucking make me.”

Shane raised his hand to Ilya’s mouth, “spit.” After he obeyed, Shane spat on top of the wetness left by Ilya.

Ilya groaned, throwing his head back. “Fuck, Shane, you will kill me.”

Shane reached down to resume stroking their cocks together at a relentless pace. He leaned down to grab Ilya’s chin with his other hand, pulling it forward so that Shane could kiss him deeply. They both moaned into it. 

Swiping his thumb over the their side-by-side heads, Shane tightened his grip and commanded, “fuck my hand, make us come together.”

With a guttural moan, Ilya bucked his hips upward, matching the pace of Shane’s strokes. 

“FuuuCK..ffff…mmm..come, konchi dlya menya, detka..” Shane kept his mouth on Ilya’s, his breath fluttering over Ilya’s lips.

“Blyad..fuckkk…ff..mmMmmm..fuck, Shane.” Ilya thrust his hips upward and came, threading his finish over Shane’s hand and his own chest.

The vision sent Shane over the edge and he followed, pressing his mouth hard against Ilya's, swiping his tongue inside.

They heaved together, Shane rested his head on Ilya’s shoulder.

“Fuck.” Shane grinned.

Ilya laughed, “you’ve been practicing your dirty Russian words.”

“I plan on fucking you for at least another five decades, so it’s an investment.”

“In what?”

“My happiness.”

Shane and Ilya had spent the past five months repairing, rebuilding, and relishing being back in each other’s lives—being together. 

They started by privately working on understanding what they were now. Ilya suggested they do a few therapy sessions together.

“Would you be willing to join one of my sessions with Galina? There are things I need to say that I cannot express in English. She can translate for me.”

It was one of the hardest but best hours of their healing journey. Ilya was able to share with Shane where his head was when he blocked him. The devastation and regret he felt when he realized what that mistake had cost him. How it felt for Shane to let him walk away. And how it felt to realize that Shane had fought for him.

Afterwards, Shane asked Ilya to join one of his own sessions. He wanted help explaining his anxiety and how much power it had over him after their conversation with Crowell. How it took Ilya walking away and Shane realizing that he was going to lose the love of his life to make him realize that he needed help. How it felt for Shane to think that Ilya had moved on, that he hadn’t cared that Shane asked him to come back.

They both shared their grief, shouldering each other’s pain. Forging a path forward based on truth, forgiveness, and empathy.

When they felt ready, they started to tell their loved ones.

—Rose—

“OH MY GOD THANK FUCK!!!” 

Rose was just a little bit excited. She screamed when they told her over a video call, and immediately threatened to leave her shoot and fly to Ottawa to hug them both.

—Svetlana—

“Blyad, fucking finally. Shane—Ilya has been a miserable messy baby for a year. You have made him a man again.” 

Svetlana didn’t hold back how she felt about Ilya not running after Shane, despite Shane’s protests that they both fucked up.

—The Pikes—

“Welcome back to the fam, Ilya. It was way too damn quiet and peaceful without you around.” But Hayden was grinning when he said it. 

“UNCLE ILYAAAAAA!!!! Uncle Shane said that you went away. You can NEVER leave us again!” 

Ilya’s eyes were full of tears as he hugged the screaming twins. “Never, moi solnyshki, I will never leave again.” 

A tear rolled down Jackie’s cheek. “Welcome back, honey. We missed you terribly.”

—Yuna and David—

“Oh, baby. Oh, honey. We missed you so much.” Yuna’s eyes glittered the moment Ilya and Shane showed up at their door.

They told Shane’s parents first, and it was the hardest conversation of all. 

Yuna and David had been devastated when they learned about the break up. Shane knew that they were trying to hide their grief, to not make Shane feel worse than he already did—but they had set a fourth place at the table, forgetting that Ilya would not be joining them for Thanksgiving dinner. Yuna shed a tear when she had to remove the plate.

“We love you son, there was far too little off-key singing at Christmas last year. Welcome back home.” David grinned, winking at Shane.

—The Centaurs—

“FUCK YEAH!” Troy was the first to speak, his face was split into a blinding grin.

“I knew there was something up with you guys!” Hayes looked smug.

“No you fucking didn’t, I told you that they were constantly having heated stare offs.” Bood walked up to grab them both into a giant bear hug. “Congratufuckinglations, boys!”

“What’s going on in here?!” Harris popped his head into the locker room. He took in the scene, and when Troy nodded towards Shane and Ilya with a wink, Harris screamed. “AAAhhHH! Fuck yes! Fuck yes!” He lunged towards them, joining in on Bood’s hug.

The rest of the guys piled on, creating a giant heap of sweaty giant athletes.

Shane caught Ilya’s eye and threw his head back with glee. Ilya winked at him, and pulled him in for a kiss. Whooping and whistling echoed through the locker room. Troy howled.

It was one of the best moments of his life.

Chapter End Notes

Konchi dlya menya, detka = come for me, baby

Moi solnyshki = my sunshines

Chapter 41: Finally, We Put Our Love On Top

Chapter Notes

Summer, 2019 | The Cottage

—Shane—

“I promise to choose you every day of the rest of my life. 

I promise to cherish each moment that we get to spend in each other’s arms. 

I promise to stand by your side, in good times and bad. In sickness and in health. In times of joy and in times of hardship.

I will spend the rest of my life loving you. I want it all with you. Every adventure, every moment big and small. I want you to be there when I wake up and when I go to sleep. I want you to be the first person I share victories with. I want you to be the shoulder I lean on when things don’t go my way.

And I want to be by your side while we win five Cups back to back.”

Shane grinned and winked at Ilya while he spoke his final vow. Ilya’s mouth gaped open and then split into a radiant smile.

The audience cracked up with laughter, tears being wiped away with tissues and sobs being replaced with jeers. “You know that’s right!” Troy whooped from Ilya’s line of groomsmen.

“When do we get to kiss?” Ilya asked urgently. Their friends and family members laughed again

David, who was officiating, grinned teasingly, “you have to do your vows first, son.”

“Ugh, this is such stupid rule.” Ilya stuck out his tongue.

“Vedi sebya prilichno, solnyshko. Behave, my love.” But Shane was grinning from ear to ear.

“Shane Hollander. You drive me crazy.” Laughter rippled again when Shane dramatically rolled his eyes.

“And I am equally as crazy about you. We are perfect match in every way. You make me better man. You push me to be kinder, to be more fair, to be more gentle. But you also push me to be strong, to be fierce, to be great.

I am given a gift, every morning that I get to wake up next to you. You make every moment the best one of my life. I think about you every second, without you, I would have very empty boring thoughts. Instead, I get to think about the sexiest, funniest, strongest, most amazing man on the planet.

Thank you for choosing us, again and again. Life is not easy. Life is not fair. But despite these things—life with you, it feels like magic.

Ya lyublyu tebya, moy muzh — ty moyo vso. You are everything. I love you.”

Shane had droplets blurring his vision, he exhaled a shaky breath. Ilya looked a little nervous, and whispered just a bit too loudly, “was okay?” to which Shane responded at full volume, “fuck Ilya, yeah it was fucking amazing.” 

Yuna loudly suppressed a sob that startled them both, causing Shane to look out to the small audience of their loved ones. There was not a single dry eye. He was overwhelmed by the amount of love, empathy, and support that their family and friends had shown them. Over years of hiding, then a year of heartbreak, and yet another year of repairing and building something new—these incredible people had been there every step of the way. Not to judge, or take sides, or to ask them to be anything other than who they were.

He was the luckiest man in the world.

“You may now kiss each other, for the first time as husband and husband!”

“Fucking finally.” Ilya said, right before he pulled Shane in for a passionate kiss. Cheers, whoops, hollers, whistles, and howls thundered through the air—as if they had an audience of thousands. 

Shane had been planning this for a month, he hesitated, a little self conscious, but he decided in a split second that Ilya’s face would be worth it—he grabbed Ilya by the waist, spun him across Shane’s body and dipped him—kissing him again on the mouth. He might have snuck in a little innocent tongue action. The crowd erupted, everyone was now on their feet—jumping, clapping, and shouting. “That’s my boy!” Hayden hollered. “Fuck yeah, Hollander!” Marlow shouted, followed by a whistle.

When Shane spun Ilya back around onto his feet, he was flushed a bright shade of pink. His lips were wet from the kiss, his chest heaving from the adrenaline and shock of the moment.

“Hollander, holy shit, ty menya ub'yosh'. You will kill me. I will never survive you. Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu. I love you so much. So so fucking much.”

Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand and raised it high above their heads, screaming “we are gay married!” 

They bounded down the aisle, hugging friends, kissing cheeks, sharing tears—everyone was still cheering and shouting, they could hear it all the way to the reception area set up by the lake.

When they got there, they had a precious moment alone together. Shane pulled Ilya close, flushing their bodies together head to toe. He kissed him gently and then placed his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder, sighing deeply with happiness.

He pulled his head up for a moment, “By the way, I think it’s just ‘we’re married’—no clarifications about the gay part.” Shane was grinning with glee at already having something to nag Ilya about.

“Ah, my husband is so bossy. Scolding me just seconds after I make him cry with my vows.”

“I didn’t cry.”

“Mm, tell that to the wet stains all over your collar.” 

“I am pretty sure those are from your tears that fell all over me when I dipped you.”

“Ah, yes, when my sexy husband grabbed me and twirled me around like pretty princess. Swept me off my feet. If I wasn’t so shocked, I would have gotten hard in front of forty people. Would have been very memorable.”

“Oh my god, gross. How do you somehow make everything about your cock?” But Shane was grinning, holding back a laugh.

“Everything is about my cock. You will see tonight. You will swallow your words.”

“Eat my words.”

“There is my sexy bossy husband again. Be careful, if you boss me one more time, I will have no choice but to pick you up and carry you inside cottage to fuck you.”

“Fuck off. You are insatiable.”

“I have sexiest man in the world as my husband. You should be grateful I am not walking around with hard on twenty-four seven.”

“Oh my god.” Shane moved to shove Ilya’s shoulder, but Ilya grabbed his wrist and kissed the delicate skin.

“Moy prekrasnyy muzh. My beautiful husband.”

Shane inhaled sharply, “fuck, I don’t know if I will ever get used to that.

Ilya responded by kissing Shane’s wrist again, “my husband.” And then Shane’s neck, “my husband.” Shane’s left cheek, “my husband.” His right cheek, “my husband.” 

And finally, Shane’s mouth, grazing it slightly and whispering, “my husband.”

Shane had offered to have a huge wedding, trying to make up for the years they spent in the dark. But Ilya insisted on an intimate ceremony. “Only the people we love, and who love us.”

And when the Centaurs dragged Ilya and Shane into the middle of the dance floor, lifting them off the ground to sit on Troy and Hayes’ shoulders—Shane grinned at Ilya and he knew that they had made the right choice. 

Shane mouthed the words, ya tebya lyublyu to Ilya, placing his hand over his heart and then pointing to Ilya’s own chest. 

It was the first of many best days of Shane’s life being married to Ilya Rozanov. 

Because that is just how life with Ilya feels—like every day is magic.

And Shane doesn’t ever want that feeling to ever go away.

Chapter End Notes

“Vedi sebya prilichno, solnyshko.” = behave, my love

OMG THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!!!

LOVE YALL!