Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander/Rose Landry, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau/Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, POV Shane Hollander, Anxious Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander is Obsessed With Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Sub Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Character Study, Shane Hollander Cheats on Rose Landry with Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Has Internalized Homophobia, Shane Hollander Has a Gay Awakening, Ilya Rozanov IS the gay awakening, Shane Hollander Has a Pain Kink, Shane Hollander Mentally Spirals, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov, Cheating, Character Study, Inspired by Heated Rivalry (TV), Shane Hollander in Subspace, Jealousy, Pining, Yearning, Internalised Homophobia, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike Friendship, Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Biting Kink, Blood Kink, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Sexual Overstimulation, Overstimulated Shane Hollander, Multiple Orgasms, Scratching, Spitting, Cheating is romantic when it's with your soulmate, Soulmates, Falling In Love, Pain Kink, Hollanov - Freeform, Heated Rivalry (TV) References, Rimming, AU, Hollanov AU, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Spit Kink, Degradation Kink, Affairs, Freak4Freak Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-12 Words: 56,485 Chapters: 7/7

Laceration

Summary

Shane Hollander was perfect; the perfect son, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect friend. He had spent years refining perfection, making sure he was the picture of it. It was second nature after all these years; a suit that didn’t quite fit, but that he’d gotten used to.
Enter Ilya Rozanov.

Chapter 1: Prologue – Cut

Shane gasped, trying desperately to gain any sort of control over himself, but he was too far gone. He felt like someone had removed all of his bones and snipped his brain stem from all his muscles and nerves, and all he could feel was fire.  

He reached out, desperately trying to grab onto something, needing to ground himself, to hold onto something, barely able to breathe with his face pressed into the pillow –  

A hand gripped his, intertwining fingers and grasping tightly, a thumb brushing over his knuckles reassuringly. It was enough to bring him back to his body, to feel every single cell in his body burn with desire and sex, to stop him from sinking so far into the sheets and down to the floor.  

Shane moaned loudly as the tension in his stomach coiled tighter and tighter, his entire body flooding with heat. He could feel the sweat beading at his temples, grunting lowly when soft lips mouthed at the back of his neck before sharp teeth cut into his shoulder. The conflicting sensations caused Shane moaned even louder as a hand ran through his hair, pulling tightly and forcing his head up, his neck straining.  

“Oh my god, fuck,” Shane panted. “Fuck. More, please, pleasepleaseplease –”  

He cried out as another orgasm washed over him, his entire body going rigid as he came untouched against the sheets again. Shane tried not to hyperventilate as he desperately tried to catch his breath, the wild, out of control moans above him all he could focus on as his body coiled tight as if he were about to snap again. The only thing that felt real right now through the haze of sex and come and the heat between them was the sting in his shoulder and the loud smacking of skin against skin, frenzied and rough and hard and perfect.  

"Hollander, oh god,” echoed through Shane’s ears as his body tensed, the hand in his hair tightening even more, his stomach dropping, his body doing the impossible –  

Shane yelled out in shock and pleasure as he came again, completely taken aback as his entire body shook with yet another orgasm, a pathetic dribble of come spurting from his cock, sticky between his stomach and the sheets. He shuddered, completely spent as he caught his breath, too on edge to even begin to calm down. He sighed in relief as the hand in his hair finally relaxed, scratching his scalp soothingly. Shane moaned as calloused hands caressed their way down his back, resting on his hips, soft kisses trailing down his shoulder.  

“Are you okay?”  

Shane took a second to process the question before he nodded, humming. He couldn’t find his voice, but he wanted to say that he had never felt better in his whole entire life.  

He'd never had two orgasms in the span of two minutes before. Shane didn’t even know that was possible after how much he had already come tonight, let alone for a man.  

But he also hadn’t known that sex could be like this. He'd never experienced it before. He hadn’t known what he was missing out on.  

He sighed as he caught his breath, grumbling softly as he was turned over onto his back, smiling when soft, warm lips met his. Shane kissed back, moaning as their tongues met, pressing himself as close as he could as the kiss turned filthy fast.  

Shane forced his eyes open as he pulled away, staring into bright, ocean blue eyes. He smiled as his eyes travelled over strong muscles, perfect, tanned skin smattered with freckles, and sinewy, veiny arms. He brought his hand up, brushing through the sweaty brown curls before his stomach dropped as he processed the reality of what he’d just done, still unable to stop touching him. Shane could feel their spent cocks pressed against each other, shamelessly rolling his hips up against him, needing more.  

He'd probably always need more from him after tonight.  

“We can’t do this again,” Shane said, but even to his own ears, his voice sounded weak.  

“We can’t?”  

Shane shook his head, unsure of what to say as he ran his hand through the curls, unable to tear himself away. He averted his eyes, but a strong hand gripped his chin and squeezed, forcing him to make eye contact.  

It was hard, normally, to hold someone’s eyes. But these eyes? Shane had to force himself to look away. He had to force himself to stop staring into them.  

“This was a one time thing,” Shane tried, but his breath hitched as the hand moved down to his neck, tightening slightly. He bit his lip, embarrassed when he realised he was pushing up into the hand and that his cock was already hardening again, involuntarily thrusting upwards, making a soft noise when he realised they were both getting hard again. How that was even possible, Shane had no idea.  

“Was it?” thickly accented English purred into his neck, curls tickling his ear.  

“Yeah,” Shane breathed. “I’m not – I don’t – with men I –”  

He gasped as he was cut off with a kiss, teeth tugging harshly on his bottom lip. Shane parted his lips, letting him gnaw at the swollen flesh, moaning as he sucked, a huge hand gripping his neck.  

Shane had never felt anything like this. He'd never come so much or so hard in his life, and he had also never, ever, had sex like this before. He'd never been fucked before. Certainly never had any sort of sex that left him a wanton, crying, desperate mess before. He'd never felt so connected to another person before. He’d never felt like he had needed anything so badly in his life before.  

He'd never begged before.  

Shane gasped as the hand moved from his neck, trailing through the mess on his stomach and wrapped around his cock, gripping him tightly. A little too tight.  

Almost mean.  

He loved it. He needed more, after what Shane had just done.  

He was oversensitive, bordering on the verge of pain, slick with come, cock aching, but Shane wanted it, to be pushed to his limits. To hurt a little. He wanted it more than anything.  

Shane stared up at Ilya, watching his blue eyes sparkle and his lip curl as he began to slowly jerk Shane off. He couldn’t look away as those blue eyes fluttered, locked on Shane’s, hardly blinking like he didn’t want to miss anything.  

Ilya Rozanov was the most beautiful person Shane had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t even believe that Ilya had wanted him, that he was wrapped around him right now, that they were pressed naked against each other, that Ilya was moaning his name. That he was currently trying to make Shane come for a third time in five minutes. That Ilya had spent hours pressed inside him, making Shane scream, making him cry and beg for him. Making him whimper Ilya’s name like it was some sort of prayer that could save him from the pleasure and the pain of overstimulation and the impending loneliness that Shane could feel nipping at his heels.  

"I can’t, again, no, please,” Shane mumbled as pain registered through his cock.  

Not pain, maybe, but something close to it. Something better, maybe. Ilya squeezed him harshly and Shane groaned as pain gave way to something else. Something better, definitely.  

“Yes, I think you can,” Ilya murmured into his neck before he kissed him again, biting again at his bottom lip. Shane hated the pathetic noise that he let out at the pain, and he hated even more how he needed more of it. Hated how his cock twitched when the taste of blood registered on his tongue, hated how he moaned when Ilya licked his lip, a faint wisp of red on his own mouth.  

Shane gasped as Ilya kissed him properly, twisting his wrist and watching Shane buck up into his hand. Shane gripped his forearm, unable to push him away the way his brain was telling him to. He pulled Ilya closer to him, his body acting without his permission, spreading his legs as Ilya settled lower between them, moaning as Ilya shifted and gripped both their hard cocks together in one hand, using Shane’s come to slick them both up. He watched Ilya’s brow furrow as he moaned, bringing his hand up to his hair to pull roughly as Ilya’s wrist tightened around them, the metallic tang lingering in his mouth like a warning.  

Ilya moaned as he ground against Shane, jerking them faster. Shane studied him carefully, desperate to remember every single moment of this. The way Ilya’s curls bounced when he moved. The noises he made as he tried to prolong his orgasm. The way his eyes looked when he looked at Shane.  

This entire night was a mistake. Shane was going to regret this, he knew it. He was never going to be able to come back from this. He was going to have to walk out of here and go back to his life, and he was going to miss Ilya forever. There was no more pretending that he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Shane had gone too far. He had fucked up too badly. He had crossed boundaries that he hadn’t even realised he had set for himself.  

Ilya leaned down to kiss him, sucking on his tongue filthily, the gold pendant on his necklace scratching Shane’s neck, the small laceration inside his lip stinging –  

Shane cried out as he came, relieved as Ilya came with him, coming over both their cocks together. He watched as Ilya’s come became indiscernible from his own against his stomach, curious.  

Ilya had the strangest ability to read Shane like a book. Shane had actually wondered whether or not Ilya could read his mind, even after only knowing him for a short time. He wondered again what it was about him that made Ilya so good at deciphering Shane as he ran two fingers through the mess on Shane’s abdomen and brought them to Shane’s lips, pushing them into his mouth reverently.  

It was exactly what Shane wanted, what he needed. He moaned around Ilya’s fingers, closing his eyes and savouring just how fucking delicious they tasted together, their sweetness mingling with the slight metallic tinge on his tongue.  

Ilya pulled his fingers out, trailing wet and hot back down to Shane’s stomach and collecting more of their come before sucking on the same fingers himself, his eyes never leaving Shane’s. Shane held his breath as he watched Ilya moan happily, sucking them clean. Shane reached up, more curious and daring than ever, and pressed his thumb to his lip, gratified to see a smear of his own blood there before he brought it to the corner of Ilya’s mouth. His breath hitched when Ilya opened wider and sucked Shane’s thumb into his mouth, closing his eyes at the taste of them. Of Shane.  

“Fuck,” Shane murmured, completely mesmerised.  

He had never met anyone like Ilya. So free and open and nonjudgemental and daring and bold and sexy and strong and sure of himself. So sure of Shane, somehow.  

Shane would never know what that felt like. In a sick and twisted way, that was the only thing he was sure of.  

That, and that he never wanted to be anywhere except underneath Ilya Rozanov ever again. 

Ilya stuck his tongue out, showing Shane their mix of come, a smear of red amongst the mess, before he leaned down. Shane opened up for him, kissing him filthily as Ilya pressed their tongues together, letting Shane taste them with him.  

Shane moaned as he passed their mess back to Ilya, both of them pulling away slightly to swallow. Shane couldn’t help but bite down on his still bleeding lip as he watched Ilya’s throat working, pain shooting through him as his cock twitched.  

It was like they were one somehow, Shane thought distantly.  

He flinched at the sound of something buzzing loudly. He frowned, trying to sit up on his elbows, but Ilya was heavy on top of him, not letting him move. Shane felt the blood drain from his body when he realised his phone was ringing, vibrating against the hardwood floor. Shane looked down, his blood running cold when he saw the caller ID.  

Reality hit him like a brick at the reminder of the outside world. At what was waiting for him outside this bedroom.  

Shane shoved Ilya off of him roughly, grabbing the nearest t shirt and wiping his chest as he scrambled off the bed and started grabbing his clothes.  

“Shane,” Ilya said softly, his Russian accent lilting as if he was trying to soothe him.  

Shane shook his head, refusing to turn and look at him. If he looked, he’d crawl right back into that bed, right back to Ilya. And he couldn’t.  

He'd already fucked up so bad. He couldn’t keep going, no matter how badly he wanted to. If Shane got back in that bed with Ilya, with beautiful, soft Ilya, he would never leave.  

He grabbed his boxer briefs and pulled them on quickly, sticking his legs through his jeans haphazardly and grabbing a t shirt from the floor. He threw it on quickly, checking his pocket for his keys as he bent down to grab his phone, flinching as it rang again.  

“Shane,” Ilya called, his voice more solid this time.  

Shane finally turned around, not looking at the hard lines of Ilya’s muscles, refusing to look down at his beautiful body, absolutely not looking at the frizzed out curls Shane had just spent hours pulling on, not letting himself think about how badly he wanted to touch them again.  

His eyes landed instead on the freckle on Ilya’s right hip and felt a wave of despair at how he’d never get to kiss that freckle again. Shane had fallen in love with that freckle tonight. He'd fallen in love with all of Ilya’s freckles, all of the little moles dotted all over his body like kisses left by someone else in a past life, but that freckle had a special place in his heart. That freckle had been the only thing he had been able to focus on when he had swallowed Ilya down, willing himself to take all of him, comforting him, reassuring him that he wasn’t alone.  

Shane forced himself to look into Ilya’s confused blue eyes instead, his heart dropping when he realised that he wasn’t about to just hurt himself with what he was about to do.  

“I’m sorry,” Shane said, hating how much he meant it. Hating how much this was affecting him. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.”  

“Because I am a man?” Ilya asked.  

Shane's eyes dropped to Ilya’s lips. He grit his teeth when he saw the faint smear of red on his mouth; it felt fair, Shane thought. It felt right, that Shane had left his mark on Ilya, staining him. It was a fraction of what Ilya had done to him, although Shane was sure he would never understand exactly how fundamentally he had altered Shane tonight.  

Ilya just stared at him as if he was trying to find the words to argue or try to convince him to stay, but Shane couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to. If he stayed a second longer, Ilya would convince him to stay forever, and Shane would. He'd never leave.  

Shane turned and forced himself to walk out the door, down the hallway and out of the apartment, making himself climb into his car and drive to his own apartment building in silence, blood thundering in his ears as he pulled away from Ilya’s apartment building. He bit down on his lip hard where Ilya had left a wound, chewing hard, until he tasted blood again.  

He wondered if Ilya had wiped his blood off of his lip. Had he licked it off, tasting Shane one final time? Had he spit him out, furious? Did he hate the taste now?  

Shane forced himself to leave everything behind with Ilya in that bed.  

He forced himself to say goodbye to a part of himself that he could never revisit, not ever again.  

He forced himself not to cry.  

>>>  

Shane sighed with relief when he opened the apartment door and saw no lights on. He shut the door behind him quietly, beelining for the bathroom and locking himself inside, turning the shower on straight away. He stripped off his shirt and pants, forcing himself to look in the mirror when he was bare, his breath hitching.  

He looked fucking ravaged. His skin, always so sensitive, was red from Ilya’s touch, from everywhere his hands and mouth had been. His bottom lip was swollen and bruised from hours of kissing and biting, teeth marks cut into the soft skin inside his mouth. Shane grimaced at the sheer amount of sweat and come plastered to him, unable to believe how much he had failed to wipe away earlier. He quelled the hysterical laugh bubbling in his throat at how filthy he was, and how fitting it was.  

Marked up, fucked up, completely ruined by Ilya. Completely fucking ruined. Broken.  

Shane moved to the toilet, kneeling, shaking as he let himself be sick, coughing as quietly as he could when he was done. This is it, Shane promised himself. It's out of your system now. It's done. You're done. No going back.  

He stood, throwing his clothes into the hamper and climbing into the shower, determined to scrub himself raw and remove any trace of Ilya from his body, to strip every piece of him that had ever felt Ilya’s touch from his skin so he could never revisit it.  

He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t allow any trace of the two of them to remain. Not when he could never have it again.  

Shane reached behind himself, gasping as he ghosted over his hole, shocked to feel it...loose. He pressed his finger to himself, unable to stop himself from whimpering quietly as he breached the ring of muscle, his skin puckered and so...ready for more. The agony of being empty settled in his stomach as he pushed his fingertip inside himself. Even after the hours Ilya had spent inside him, stretching him open, fucking him, holding him down and forcing him to take him, Shane wanted more.  

He needed more.  

He could shower and go back. He could go straight back to Ilya, say he was sorry, and beg on his hands and knees for Ilya to fuck him again. To kiss him, to stare into his eyes and tell him how much tonight meant to him. To listen to him talk, to make his eyes roll back into his head again, to flood him with so much pleasure that he forgot himself, babbling in Russian, wet, desperate eyes looking at Shane, flushed cheeks burning against Shane’s already too hot skin as he pumped himself inside him, moaning his name.  

Shane forced himself to stop, extricating his fingers and clenching his jaw. Never again, he promised himself as he grabbed the soap and his exfoliating mitt, scrubbing himself until his skin burned.  

He only turned the water off when it started to run cold, refusing to look at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth before ambling to his bedroom, grabbing a fresh pair of boxer briefs and climbing into bed, faltering as he curled around the sleeping figure waiting for him when he saw her phone in her hand.  

She had fallen asleep trying to call him.  

Shane took the phone out of her hands, plugging it into the charger on the bedside table and crawling into the bed. He snuggled up behind her, trying to relax his body when she snuffled and turned in his arms, wiggling around to hug him.  

She felt wrong against him. Too small, too bony, too – too not Ilya.  

“D’you have fun at boy’s night?” Rose mumbled into his chest.  

Shane nodded before he realised it was dark and she couldn’t see him. “Yes,” he whispered, more honest than he would have liked.  

“Good,” she said, running her hand down his chest absently. “Was lonely without you.” 

“Sorry,” Shane said, gritting his teeth when he realised that he wasn’t sorry at all.  

“Time is it?”  

“Late,” Shane whispered, rubbing her back softly as she fell back asleep in her arms.  

He refused to tell her it was three a.m. He refused to tell her that guy’s night was over hours ago. He refused to tell her that he had spent hours beneath somebody else, beneath a man, crying and whimpering and begging for somebody that wasn’t her. Something that she would never be able to give him.  

He would never, ever tell her that for a short while, he had felt truly alive for the first time in his life. Shane would never, ever tell her that in her arms, he felt numb again. The world was dull again, the way it was before Ilya.  

She was too sleepy to notice the internal crisis he was going through. She just curled into him, sighing happily as she rested against his chest and absorbed his warmth, her hand moving down to caress his stomach sleepily.  

Shane forced himself to close his eyes, to not recoil from her touch, to not think about the way every inch of skin burned painfully as he laid with Rose, feeling a tear slip down his temple as he thought about what he had just done. To her. To them.  

The guilt felt like it was burning a hole through his stomach as Rose’s hand splayed where Ilya’s had been less than an hour ago, smearing their releases together, pressing down hard as he fucked him, grabbing Shane’s hand and making him press down there too, moaning about how they could feel Ilya moving inside him, so big, filling Shane up so perfectly –  

Shane let himself mourn his night with Ilya. He mourned his touch, his kiss. The hours the had spent getting to know each other at the bar, talking about their families, their cultures, their uncertainty about where they fit in in the world. The way Ilya had made love to him like he was precious, like he was perfect. The way Ilya had told him he was beautiful, so pretty, so made for him. The way Shane had bloomed under Ilya’s touch, and the way Ilya had come alive, so bright and stunning, whenever Shane had touched him and kissed him.  

He reached up to touch his bruised lips, wondering how long it would be until he would forget the way Ilya tasted. He mourned the feeling of being full, of being used, of being cherished. He mourned the Russian words he didn’t understood as they were whispered into his skin with kisses. He mourned the fact that he hadn’t even asked Ilya what they meant.  

He mourned the way he’d felt so alive, so present. So happy.  

He mourned the way Ilya had made him feel so seen.  

He mourned Ilya.  

He mourned what he was sure he would never feel again.  

Chapter 2: Hemostasis

“Fuck,” Marleau muttered.  

Shane tried not to look smug as he ducked with ease, a fist bypassing him entirely. He planted himself firmly into the mat and thew his own punch, smiling as he connected. Marleau grunted as Shane laughed, moving backwards and waiting for him to catch his breath.  

He couldn’t think of anywhere less he wanted to be than at the gym with his friends, only hours after what he’d done, but Shane had made plans. And he never bailed on plans, ever. He couldn’t look guilty or suspicious of anything. Shane was getting on with his life, like everything was normal. Like twelve hours ago, he wasn’t crying and screaming Ilya’s name while Ilya had him pinned down against his blue microfibre sheets.  

Like his body wasn’t aching and his heart wasn’t fucking breaking.  

“Little shit,” Marleau said.  

“You still think I'm not fast enough?” Shane asked.  

“I’m still bigger,” Marleau taunted, smacking his gloves together before posing, Mr Olympia style.  

Shane used Marleau’s own distraction to step forward and jab him quickly, twice in the side, before jumping back. “A bigger wingspan only helps if you actually move fast enough to use it.”  

“Give him a break,” Hayden called from the side of the ring. “Old age makes you slow.”  

Shane smirked as Marleau scoffed, taking off his gloves and moving over to Hayden to grab his water bottle. He averted his eyes, not letting himself look at Marleau’s arms as he reached out.  

Friends don’t notice their friends' arms, Shane chastised himself, feeling sick with himself. He had been working overtime all morning to pretend yesterday never happened.  

He needed to work harder.  

“I’m not old, Hollander’s just sneaky,” Marleau said.  

Shane faltered at that, freezing as Marleau got a good jab in his side. He winced as he stood up straight,  

“You guys had a good night?” Hayden asked.  

“Oh yeah. Fuck, Hayd, you should have stayed for more than one beer,” Marleau said.  

“Ruby wasn’t feeling well,” Hayden shrugged. “Couldn’t leave Jackie on her own with the kids.”  

“Yeah, I know,” Marleau smiled. “You just missed a good night is all.” Marleau looked at Shane as if he expected him to agree, but Shane didn’t trust himself to speak.  

What would he even say? It was the best night of my life. It was the night I made the biggest mistake of my life. I fucked up so bad. I can’t believe I left him. I can’t believe I did that to Rose. I can’t believe I’ll never taste Ilya again.  

“Can’t have been that good if you two are this bright and shiny on a Saturday morning,” Hayden teased.  

“Depends,” Shane said, throwing another jab at Marleau, knowing he wasn’t bright or shiny at all. “We had to practically carry JJ and Watts out.”  

“Thank god Hollander was DD last night,” Marleau laughed. “How’d you go getting them home, by the way?”  

“Fine,” Shane said, his skin feeling too tight for his body all of a sudden, his stomach plummeting to the floor. “Watt’s missus was waiting by the door, I think she knew what to expect. She didn’t look too happy.”  

“Poor Watts,” Hayden tutted. “Kid doesn’t know how to pace himself yet.”  

"JJ should though,” Shane said.  

“Nah, he’s always been fucking sloppy,” Marleau laughed. “Never could stay off the shots.”  

“Let me guess, Rozanov got everyone on the vodka?” Hayden asked.  

“Before we’d even gotten our first beers,” Marleau grimaced.  

“You know, just because Rozanov suggests something, it doesn’t mean you have to do it,” Hayden said in his dad voice.  

Shane couldn’t help himself, a choked off noise escaping his throat. If only it were that easy. Nobody knew better than Shane how persuasive Ilya’s hungry blue eyes could be. Hayden and Marleau both looked at him, and Shane forced himself to chuckle, refusing to meet their eyes.  

“As if these guys are ever gonna say not to shots,” Shane said, trying to tease them and not draw attention to his own behaviour last night. “Especially for Watts’ birthday.”  

“Rose must have been rapt to have her sober, responsible boyfriend come home at a reasonable hour,” Hayden winked.  

Shane tried to smile, but he could feel bile rising in his throat, and his face was too tight, the skin pulling so taut that it hurt. Like if Shane really did smile, his skin would tear and rip and burn.  

“Still woke her up when I got home,” Shane settled on – a truth, indisputable. Something that would be corroborated if Rose were asked. No detail given that could catch him out.  

It was more honest than Shane would be for the rest of his life after last night.  

Shane felt sick with himself. Disgusted. Disappointed. He fucking hated himself more than he’d ever hated anything or anyone before in his life.  

And he hated how much he couldn’t stop thinking about how it had felt, and how much he wanted to feel it again. The worst part was that it wasn’t just the sex, and Shane knew that. No matter how much he was trying to pretend that what happened last night was just physical.  

It was the hours they had spent talking. The way they had talked at the bar about their parents, Ilya’s brother. The way Ilya had admitted that he hated that he had to speak in a second language every single day. The way Shane had admitted that he didn’t think he’d ever truly experienced happiness.  

The way Ilya had told him he’d been saying his name wrong this entire time, adding an extra syllable. The way Ilya had held his jaw, so softly, and told him where to put his tongue in his mouth to say his name. The way Shane had breathed his name, and the look Ilya had gotten in his eye when Shane had whimpered it perfectly.  

The way Ilya had leaned in too close and told him that he thought he could get him there. The way Shane had breathed in the vodka on his breath and asked him to try.  

The way Ilya had ran his hand up the inside of Shane’s thigh under the table, the way Shane had leaned in to give him better access.  

The way Ilya had kissed him so tenderly the first time, moving so slow, giving Shane time to adjust. The way Ilya had moaned as Shane kissed him back. The way Ilya had angled Shane’s face under the lamp by his bedside table and asked him to stay still so he could look at his freckles properly, because he hadn’t been able to get a good look, and he had been trying since they had met.  

The way Ilya had stared at him in disbelief the first time he had pushed into Shane, and the way he had caught Shane’s tears with his lips, soothing him as he followed through on his promise and showed Shane a joy and a freedom he had never felt before.  

“She must count her lucky stars that she got the best guy on the team,” Marleau teased.  

Shane tried to nod, but he worried that if he moved his head, he would vomit all over the floor. Chris probably wouldn’t take too kindly to Shane throwing up all over his gym. He certainly hadn’t reacted well when JJ had passed out and drooled on the mat that time Hayden had knocked him in the head a little too hard.  

He hummed, stretching his arms up, trying to look like he was focused on their sparring session.  

Shane wasn’t ready to think about what kind of boyfriend he was to Rose. Not right now.  

He'd gotten lucky when he’d woken up and Rose had left for breakfast with her brother without waking him up, letting him rest. Shane had gone back to the bathroom, grimacing at the state of himself, his lip still swollen and bruised, staring into the face of a cheater.  

His parents hadn’t raised him this way. Shane had never allowed himself to act in such a hurtful, vile manner before; he’d never wanted to, before. But now, he was the sort of person that hurt people, all so he could satiate his own needs, meet his own curiosity.  

And he was apparently the sort of man that wanted to have sex with other men.  

His parents would be horrified. His mother had done nothing but talk about grandchildren for years, asking Shane when he was finally going to settle down and marry a nice girl, when he was going to make an honest woman out of Rose. His parents loved Rose.  

His grandparents...Shane couldn’t even think about that. They already thought he was strange and didn’t seem to like him very much. They thought he was too quiet, too odd, too strange, he’d heard them talk about him.  They'd surely be disgusted by what a degenerate he turned out to be. He knew what they thought about people like – that.  

Rose would hate him if she ever found out. He'd betrayed her worst of all. He couldn’t imagine how she would feel if she knew what he had done, and that he’d done it with a man. She would be humiliated.  

Not to mention, Ilya probably already hated him for walking out the way that he did. Running out. Leaving him behind.  

Shane felt sick at the thought. Ilya had whispered into his neck last night, during a soft moment where they weren’t desperately touching each other, that he’d been left behind too many times to count, and that he couldn’t do it again.  

And then Shane had fucking run out on him.  

Shane wondered if Ilya hated him even more than Shane hated himself. It didn’t seem possible, but he was sure it was a very close thing.  

Ilya was probably confused. Or maybe he didn’t care, and Shane had misinterpreted his face the last time he had seen him. Maybe all Ilya wanted was a casual fuck, and Shane leaving only ruined his plan for another two or three orgasms. Maybe he didn’t give two shits that Shane was being torn to pieces over their night together. Maybe Ilya was completely fine. Maybe he had just been sweet talking Shane to get him into bed, to see if he could sleep with a straight guy, and he had laughed once Shane had panicked and run away.  

No, Shane thought. He's not that kind of person. He’s honest. He's not like me. He's a good person.  

He moved to unstrap his gloves, making his way over to Hayden and thanking him when he handed him his water bottle, hoping a sip would settle the bile roiling in his stomach.  

“I’m gonna head home,” Shane said, leaving the to vomit and cry part unsaid. “You guys good?”  

“Yeah,” Hayden nodded, climbing into the ring and strapping on his own gloves. “Let’s see how Marleau does with someone his own size.”  

Marleau laughed, towering over Shane by a good six inches. “Let’s go, pocket rocket.”  

“You’re in with a shot,” Shane tried to smile. “He’s hungover.”  

“I’m not hungover,” Marleau said indignantly. “Maybe I’m still a little drunk.”  

“Even better,” Hayden winked as he swung his arms out, warming up.  

Shane waved goodbye, grabbing his gym bag and making his way out to the car, freezing when he saw the huge dent on the back bumper of the car, trying to remember what could have caused it. He felt his stomach drop to the ground when he remembered he had accidentally backed into another car in his desperate rush to leave Ilya’s apartment.  

He moved behind the car, out of view of the door to the gym and the security cameras, and vomited.  

He had borrowed Rose’s car while his was getting serviced, and he had fucking damaged it while leaving the apartment of the man he cheated on her with.  

Shane was the biggest piece of shit in Montreal, he was sure of it.  

He picked himself up, wiping his mouth on the hem of his shirt and resolving to stop at the store and grab some pasta to cook for dinner tonight. He would make Rose’s favourite pasta, and he would ask her how her day was, and he would be the best boyfriend to her that he could be, because that was what she deserved.  

Shane was going to atone for his sin if it killed him.  

>>>  

“Which is, whatever,” Rose sighed, taking another bite of her tagliatelle. “God, this is so good, babe.”  

Shane tried to smile. He had tried to look her in the eyes all evening, too, but he couldn’t do that, either. He’d broken his diet for dinner tonight, making pasta and meatballs and eating it with her, and he could tell that Rose was curious about the break in routine, even though she hadn’t said anything.  

Maybe Shane shouldn’t have broken his routine so obviously. He realised with a start that he probably looked guilty.  

Good, he admonished himself. I am guilty. I should get fucking caught. I should let her ruin my life as punishment for what I did to her.  

He looked at Rose, blissfully unaware that Shane had just betrayed her in the worst way possible and debated telling her. He chewed on his lip as he wondered how he would do it. 

What would I even say? ‘Rose, I cheated’, he posited. It's too cruel. And when she asks with who, what do I say? How honest should I be with her? What if I tell her everything and she tells my parents? What if she tells the boys and they hate me?  

He knew what the underlying fear in all of this was, and he absolutely refused to consider it. Shane had decided long ago that wasn’t going to go there. He had already betrayed that promise to himself by following Ilya up to his room the other night. He couldn’t do that again. He had to bury it with everything else.  

His need for control, his diet, the way he noticed the way that men – just, the way that he noticed men.  

Shane tried his best to clear his head; he couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell anyone.  

He wasn’t going to tell anyone, ever, that he had had sex with a man. As far as Shane was concerned, it hadn’t happened. He couldn’t risk this getting out to anyone. To his mother. Not after everything it had cost her to come to Canada, the family she had given up to have him, a mixed race son. She deserved the perfect son. And he was going to play the part perfectly.  

The perfect son, and the perfect boyfriend.  

He had to. He just had to.  

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Rose asked, her brow furrowed.  

Shane met her eyes before he bowed his head to his plate, guilt curdling in his stomach. “I just feel bad about last night,” he said honestly.  

Rose laughed, reaching under the table to knock his ankle with her own. “Shane, you’re allowed to stay out late with your friends,” she laughed. “What were you supposed to do, not go out for Miitka’s big night? Wasn’t the whole thing to take advantage of your first non hockey weekend in like two months?”  

Shane tried to smile, staring down at his food. He didn’t deserve Rose.  

They'd been together for a year and a half; Shane had gone to the same salad bar every Friday for lunch as a treat for himself for the last three years. He had seen Rose around for a few weeks, but he hadn’t necessarily thought anything of her other than she looked perfectly nice. Then one day, she had smacked into him at the door and caused him to drop his salad and insisted on buying him a new one. They had gotten to talking in line, and Shane had learned she was incredibly funny and sweet. Rose seemed to like him too, and they had begun dating. Her lease had been up eight months ago, and Shane had invited her to live with him.  

He really did love Rose. She was thoughtful and kind down to her very core and his friends and parents loved her because she was lovely to be around.  

Shane knew that he wasn’t exactly attracted to her.  

He had thought that he was just...broken. Or that he didn’t work like that. He hadn’t ever really been attracted to anyone, ever. He liked her plush lips, but he didn’t necessarily want to kiss them. He didn’t even like looking people in the eye, so why would he enjoy kissing or feelings, Shane had wondered. When he was younger, he had figured that when he got a little older the more...sexual part of himself would suddenly wake up and catch up to all the other boys.  

He’d started high school, and the feelings never came. That was when he really began to panic. Shane had met so many women that he liked and cared about, but he had never felt the desire or the burning passion his friends talked about women with. Shane just thought he didn’t work like that. That there were other things he liked better than women or sex.  

Shane had thought that was better, though. That it was more important that he loved Rose for the person she was, rather than her looks or how she made him feel in bed. They were best friends, and his parents had always said that that was the secret to a great relationship. He was sure that physical or sexual attraction for him just wasn’t something he would ever feel. He had done some googling in university, and he had come to the conclusion that he was somewhere on the demiromantic or asexual scale. It wasn’t a big deal, he had told himself. It let him focus on his schoolwork and his hobbies and his friends and himself. He had plenty that kept him fulfilled.  

But then Shane had met Ilya a month ago, and it was like his entire world snapped into focus, Technicolour and vivid and overwhelming, and Shane realised that he had been living in black and white for his entire life.  

That realisation had made him sadder than he had ever been in his life.  

Marleau had brought Ilya in as a sub for their weekly recreational hockey game when Harrold had bailed because his kids were sick. Marleau was dating a woman that even Shane recognised was a knockout, Svetlana, when Harrold bailed on the game that weekend. Ilya had been over at Svetlana's with Marleau, and he asked Ilya if he would sub for them. From the second he had walked into the locker room with Marleau, Shane had felt like someone had thrown ice water down the back of his shirt and set him on fire simultaneously.  

Ilya was beautiful. He was bold and loud and funny and he loved attention, something Shane couldn’t understand, but he was also thoughtful and considerate, always watching, Shane noticed.  

Watching Shane.  

Shane had lost count of how many times he had snuck a glance at Ilya, only to lock eyes with him because Ilya was already looking at him. And while Shane always averted his eyes, Ilya never did. He kept looking. And for the first time in his life, Shane wanted to be looked at, and he wanted to look. It was strange and uncomfortable, and a part of Shane wanted to label it brave, but he couldn’t understand why that was the word he kept coming back to when he thought about Ilya.  

And everybody loved Ilya. Shane noticed the way people lit up when he walked into the room.  

The boys adored him; they thought he was funny and fun, always laughing at his jokes, and they loved that he was great at hockey. Maybe even better than Shane. He and Shane had found a groove together right from that first game; Shane had never scored so many goals in his life as he had playing with Ilya. It was like they were speaking a secret language when they played, and nobody else could keep up. Not even when Shane was a teenager considering going pro had he played like that.  

Shane had chalked it up to good luck, finding someone who could read his body and his cues out on the ice like that. Especially since they didn’t really talk to one another; Ilya always seemed to be more interested in looking at Shane than talking to him, and Shane had felt too nervous around Ilya to really talk to him.  

Ilya hadn’t been nervous, though. It felt like if anything, he would go out of his way to talk to Shane. To order him a ginger ale when everyone was buying beers at lunch or at the bar. To offer to split a side order of broccoli. To ask him about work and his family and the boys. How long he’d know Marleau for, what sort of workouts he enjoyed.  

Nothing could have prepared him for the way Ilya had kissed him in the car when Shane had made his last stop last night out the front of his apartment building, caressing his face and if he wanted to come upstairs.  

Nothing in the world could have prepared Shane for the way Ilya could read his body off the ice.  

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the pain that had been sitting in his chest, solid and inescapable, since he had declared what they had shared together a mistake and ran from Ilya.  

It was a mistake, what they had done. Just not in the way it should have been.  

The mistake had been letting himself kiss Ilya back. The mistake had been following him up to his apartment building. The mistake had been letting Ilya undress him, open him up, and make a home for himself inside Shane.  

The mistake had been letting Ilya slice him open, bleeding for him, letting Ilya taste and swallow Shane’s bloody kisses. The mistake had been letting them consume each other in ways Shane hadn’t even known was possible, because now, there was no going back. Not for Shane, at least. Not when all he wanted was to be consumed again. To be used. To be wanted and needed the way Ilya had wanted and needed him. 

The mistake had been Shane selfishly risking all this agony, knowing that he was about to hurt Ilya, devastate Rose, and absolutely, completely crush himself in a way he would never, ever recover from.  

Shane was a walking, open wound now, something that would never heal.  

Ilya was something he wouldn’t be able to heal. Shane could feel it. He was infected now, ruined by the knowledge of what it would be like to have something he hadn’t even known could be possible for him.  

The mistake had been Shane. It had always been Shane that was the problem.  

“I crashed your car,” Shane blurted, unable to keep another lie inside.  

Rose startled, and Shane realised he had raised his voice.  

“Sorry, no, I didn’t crash it, but I reversed into another car and dented it, I’m sorry,” Shane said, trying to gain control of himself. “I already called the shop, I’ll drop yours off when I pick up mine on Monday. You'll have it back Tuesday. I’m so sorry,” he said, meaning it with every cell in his body.  

Rose laughed, reaching out and resting her ankle against his under the table. “Oh, god, were they that rowdy last night that you actually had a fender bender?” she smiled. “No big deal. Nobody got hurt.”  

Shane felt sick, so sick. He wanted to throw up again, to throw himself at her feet and prostrate himself, to beg for forgiveness, to promise it would never happen again.  

“I don’t deserve you,” Shane muttered.  

Rose leaned over in her seat to kiss him sweetly. Shane did everything in his power not to flinch at the ache that shot through his lower lip, echoes of last night crashing down on him. “Relax, Hollander,” she teased. “There’s nothing so bad it can’t be fixed.”  

Shane tried to smile, tried to believe her. He tried so hard to believe he could fix what he had broken himself, gleefully, willingly, only thinking about himself and what he wanted. What he needed. He shook his head and plastered on what he hoped was a more relaxed expression as he leaned in to kiss her properly, resolved to move past this and be better.  

>>>  

It wasn’t working.  

Shane screwed his eyes shut as Rose breathed into his ear, her delicate whimpers echoing through his ears. She had always felt nice beneath him; her skin was soft, and she smelled like nectarines and vanilla. Even her hair used to feel nice against his face.  

It was all wrong now, though, and Shane couldn’t pretend like he didn’t know that anymore.  

Rose didn’t have curls. Her hair didn’t become wild and frizzy when Shane ran his hands through it. Her hair was thinner, limper. Not full of life with a mind of its own like –  

He tried to focus on moving his hips correctly as he kissed her, images of the night before running through his mind unbidden without his permission, no matter how hard he had tried to keep his eyes open and look at Rose. Into her eyes, lovely and blue, just – not the right kind of blue.  

Shane could still see him, though. He could still feel him. His messy brown curls, his sweet, swollen red lips. His muscles and veins bulging beneath tanned skin, hard muscle against his own body, holding him down, pushing him around, heavy, deep breaths in his ear, moaning his name, panting sweet words to him in Russian –  

Shane moaned loudly as his stomach tightened, unable to stop himself from moving faster, thrusting harder at the memory, chasing the faint echo of the feeling that was still sitting deep, deep in his bones, pretending to adjust the sheet behind him but reaching between his cheeks, pressing on his still swollen hole –  

Rose cried out as he bucked his hips wildly, filling the condom as he came. It was weak; his body didn’t feel loose and lax like it had the night before. His mind wasn’t hazy and syrupy this time. He didn’t feel like he had accomplished anything, like he had been good, like he’d earned it. He didn’t feel good this time.  

Instead, his chest ached and his stomach roiled as Rose ran her hands down his back.  

He used to be better at this. He used to be able to pretend this was okay, this was enough. He used to be able to tell himself that a warm body beneath him was better than nothing at all.  

But maybe he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Maybe he couldn’t pretend this was enough when exactly twenty four hours ago he had been the one beneath Ilya, crying and coming and completely sated. Maybe he couldn’t pretend to want anything other than that anymore now that he know what it felt like when it was right.  

He felt a wave of guilt course through him; Rose had never writhed and panted underneath Shane the way Shane had done for Ilya. Shane had never been able to make her feel that way. He'd never felt that way for her.  

His attempt to reset himself, reset his body after Ilya, had failed. Shane tried not to think about how Ilya was the reset.  

Shane refused to open his eyes as Rose kissed his neck, catching their breath together, unwilling to let go of the images that got him over the edge.  

“That's new,” Rose murmured into his neck.  

Shane froze, terrified, finally looking at her and confused to see her serene underneath him. “What?”  

“Coming at the same time,” Rose smiled, reaching up to touch his lip. Shane frowned; he hadn’t even realised that she had come. That was new. “Oh, what did you do?”  

“Hm?”  

“Your lip,” she said, pulling his lower lip down to look.  

Shane flinched and moved away when he realised what she meant, not wanting her to touch the place Ilya had left his mark on him. It was absurd and insulting, he knew, being naked with her, still inside her, but that mark wasn’t for Rose. It was Ilya’s. It was for Shane and Ilya, and them alone.  

“Yeah,” he said noncommittally, climbing off of her and heading to the bathroom, disposing of the condom and washing his face. He dared to pull at his bottom lip, something strange settling in the pit of his stomach when he saw the red marks inside his lip from Ilya’s bite last night.  

It was soothing, somehow, to have proof of what had happened. Even if Shane was trying to pretend it had never happened, it was both comforting and terrifying to have something tangible that proved it was real.  

He shuffled out of the bathroom as Rose came in, leaving her alone to shower and grabbed his phone, acting before he could think.  

Shane opened the camera app and pulled his lip down, making sure the teeth marks were visible, the laceration still red and bloody from all the chewing Shane had been doing, and took a photo.  

Just in case he ever truly did forget.  

>>>  

Shane made it through two whole days without thinking about it when his phone lit up on Tuesday afternoon from the hockey group chat. He hadn’t looked at it since before they had gone out on Friday, too scared to see if Ilya had messaged him.  

He hadn’t. Shane knew he wouldn’t.  

Watts had sent a photo of himself with his wife, both of them smiling and giving the thumbs up and holding a can of paint.  

Hockey hotties  

Watts [15:08 Sunday]  

Lisa’s finally forgiven me for breaking the wall on Friday night.  

Shane took another look at the photo, laughing in shock when he realised the wall behind them was freshly replastered and painted. The kid must have keeled over right inside the front door after Shane had left him with his wife and gone straight through the plaster.  

Marleau [15:10 Sunday]  

Gorgeous craftsmanship, what sexy beast did that for you?  

Watts [15:11 Sunday]  

Thanks, Cliffy <3  

Hayden [15:11 Sunday]  

When are you young kids gonna learn, never go home to your wife drunker than tipsy. 

Miitka [15:13 Sunday]  

Don’t listen to Pike, Wattsy, that’s how you end up with fifteen kids  

Hayden [15:14 Sunday]  

Somebody’s gotta start having babies, Ruby’s getting lonely without cousins.  

Watts [15:14 Sunday]  

I just wanted to show off the wall nobody’s having more babies  

Unless you have something to announce Pikey  

Again  

Harrold [15:14 Sunday]  

Send us the before so we can appreciate Marleau’s work  

Watts [15:16 Sunday]  

Here  

Shane snorted at the photo Watts’ wife had taken of Watts passed out amongst a mess of broken plaster, white dust covering him as he laid half on the floor and half against the inside of the wall.  

Rozanov [15:17 Sunday]  

Sleeping beauty  

Shane nearly dropped his phone when Ilya’s name popped up. He sat at his desk, staring at the chat, waiting for more, but the boys just kept chirping at each other playfully. Shane debated joining in, but he settled for simply going back and leaving a heart react over the first photo Watts had sent.  

He chewed on his lip, smiling slightly when he tasted a hint of something metallic, relieved that the cut wasn’t healing over.  

Ilya's name didn’t appear on his phone again.  

>>>  

Shane flipped the salmon over in the pan, giving the vegetables a shake as he listened to Rose talk about her day as she sorted the laundry.  

“Who’s is this?”  

Shane looked over and nearly keeled over at the sight of Rose holding up a large black t shirt, too large to be his own. He felt sick when he realised he must have picked up the wrong t shirt from Ilya’s bedroom floor.  

He hadn’t noticed that it was too big on him when he had left. And Shane had been in such a frenzy on Saturday morning that he had thrown everything in the hamper straight into the wash when he had woken up, terrified that Rose would find his clothes, covered in come and sweat and ask questions. He hadn’t noticed the shirt when he had hung them up to dry. 

Shane wanted to scream. He wanted to rip it out of her hands and tell her not to touch it, that it wasn’t hers. He wanted to inspect it and see if there was any trace of himself or Ilya left on that shirt, to bury his nose into it and see if he could smell their sex. But he forced himself to look back down at their dinner and shrug, praying he sounded relaxed when he said he must have accidentally picked it up in the locker room shuffle after their last hockey game.  

“Gross,” Rose said, wrinkling her nose as she folded it up. “You didn’t empty out your bag for two weeks?”  

Shane shook his head, knowing that she wouldn’t believe that. She didn’t seem suspicious, just...thinking out loud. They hadn’t had a game last weekend, but they sure had taken advantage of the scheduled break. He saw his phone buzz on the countertop, flipping it over when he caught a glimpse of his mother’s name and something about seeing photos of him out at the bar last night on Facebook.  

"I must have missed it in the bag,” Shane said.  

“You gotta start wearing your glasses more,” Rose teased.  

“I thought you said they made me look nerdy,” Shane said.  

Rose just hummed and kept talking about her day at work, oblivious to the guilt eating Shane from the inside out. Shane tried to listen as he chewed on his lip, the familiar ache settling the guilt in his stomach just a little bit.  

>>>  

Hockey hotties  

Marleau [22:46 Friday]  

I have an announcement  

Hayden [22:46 Friday]  

Oh this has got to be big  

Marleau [22:46 Friday]  

How do you have seventeen children and still manage to be on your phone all the time  

Hayden [22:47 Friday]  

It's late, they’re all asleep  

JJ [22:47 Friday]  

What’s the announcement?  

Marleau [22:48 Friday]  

I'm bringing my girl to the game tomorrow  

Which means all you fuckers better be on your best behaviour  

Shane smiled as he read the messages, excited to meet Svetlana properly. He had met her fleetingly at the gym a couple of times, but Marleau had always steered her away from talking to the boys for reasons Shane couldn’t quite comprehend. Maybe he was embarrassed by them or something.  

Rozanov [22:49 Friday]  

She was my girl first, Marley 

Shane frowned as he read Ilya’s message. His girl first... 

What the fuck does that mean? Shane wondered, jealousy flushing through his body. A ridiculous reaction, Shane was aware, but he couldn’t help it.  

Marleau [22:49 Friday]  

It's not about where you’re from, Rozy, it’s about where you end up ;)  

But seriously, everyone on their best behaviour  

Rozanov [22:50 Friday]  

Yes boys best behaviour  

Do like Marley does, chew with mouth closed when pretty girls are around and pretend you are gentleman  

Pretty girls. So Ilya thought Svetlana was pretty, then. Shane frowned as he stared at the message, his stomach roiling.  

Marleau [22:50 Friday]  

Fuck you Rozy I AM a gentleman  

JJ [22:50 Friday]  

I can’t believe we finally get to meet her  

So things are serious?  

Marleau [22:51 Friday]  

They're progressing  

Watts [22:52 Friday]  

Lisa’s coming tomorrow, they can sit together so she isn’t alone  

Marleau [22:52 Friday]  

Cheers, Wattsy, that’s what I like to see. Support from my bros.  

Well. Some of my bros...  

Shane [22:53 Friday]  

About time   

Ilya [22:53 Friday]  

Relax, you have my support precious Marley  

Hayden [22:53 Friday]  

Remember that one time we saw her on the treadmill and Marleau looked like he was about to gouge out our eyes just for looking at her?  

Watts [22:54 Friday]  

Thought he was gonna pop an artery  

Marleau [22:54 Friday]  

I'm fucking serious, boys. Best behaviour. This is important.  

Shane chewed on his lip as he thought about seeing Ilya tomorrow; he hated how excited he was to see his face again. He hated how much he loved seeing their names together in the group chat. Exactly one week ago they were sitting next to each other in that dingy booth at the back of the dive bar JJ had dragged them to, their thighs pressed too closely together, even though there was plenty of room to spread out.  

He froze when he realised his lip didn’t hurt anymore.  

Shane exited out of his message app and went to his camera roll, scrolling down to the hidden folder that needed his passcode to unlock it, and opened the only photo he had saved in there. He pinched his lower lip with his free hand as he stared at the bite mark he had worn for days, trying to remember how it had felt when Ilya had bitten him. How Shane had felt when Ilya had licked at the bloodstain on his lips, how his eyes had rolled back a little when Shane had fed him more of himself.  

He put his phone on do not disturb and rolled over, tossing it onto his nightstand, turning off the lamp and closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep.  

Shane let his hands wander down to his cock and squeezed himself tightly, not touching himself, but gripping himself hard enough to hurt while he thought about Rose in the next room, still on the phone to her mother, the guilt of what he had done not enough to stop him from feeling excited to see Ilya tomorrow.  

He reached for his phone again, going back to look at the photo of his lip. Shane let himself remember the bite; the feral look in Ilya’s eye, the sting in his mouth. The way he had ached and bled, the way the metallic tang had tasted mixed with their come.  

The way Ilya’s eyes had looked wild and feral as he fed him their come, watching Shane swallow them down, his fingers following the motion down Shane’s neck.  

Shane hadn’t realised he was already jerking himself roughly. He stroked himself vigorously as he stared at the photo he had taken a week ago before he tossed the phone down and reached for his lip, squeezing it as hard as he could, digging his nails in –  

He came with a quiet whimper, coming over his stomach. Shane winced at the mess, guilt settling in when he realised what he had just done with Rose only a wall away.  

Shane rushed to clean up, desperate to fall asleep before she came to bed and tried to initiate anything. He tucked himself in and screwed his eyes shut, soft aftershocks from his orgasm still making his stomach flutter, the phantom mark on his lip pulsating in his mouth.  

Or maybe his body was just doing all that because he was thinking of Ilya.  

>>>  

Ilya didn’t look at him at all.  

Shane and Hayden had been the first ones to the rink, as usual. They had gone to the locker room to hang out and get ready, greeting all the boys as they filtered in, Shane not so subtly facing the door and waiting. Ilya was one of the last ones in, and he pointedly ignored Shane.  

He watched as Ilya made his way over to Watts, clapping him on the back and asking how long it took for his hangover to disappear.  

Shane felt like his entire body had been switched off somehow, like it wasn’t working. He had to force himself to put his jersey on, feeling fatigued and exhausted all of a sudden.  

Being ignored by Ilya was new, and it was horrible. Shane had never in his life wanted somebody to look at him so badly.  

“Did you hear me?”  

Shane blinked as he registered JJ next to him. “Sorry, what?”  

JJ frowned at him, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong?”  

Shane blinked again, trying to clear his face. “What?”  

“Something’s wrong,” JJ said. “You’ve been quiet all week.”  

Hayden appeared by JJ’s side, frowning at Shane too. “Quieter than normal.”  

Shane shook his head, forcing himself to hold JJ’s eye, no matter how much it made him squirm. “Work’s been busy.”  

JJ didn’t blink as he looked at Shane.  

Shane knew that look. He’d known JJ since middle school; they’d become fast friends playing hockey together, and aside from his parents, JJ probably knew him better than anyone. It made Shane sick to think that he was wearing his guilt on his face enough for JJ to pick up on it.  

“I’m fine,” Shane lied through his teeth. He didn’t look over to see if they believed him. Shane felt them back off though, sitting down and lacing up his skates. He chanced a peek up at Ilya, his stomach dropping when he saw him laughing with Marleau and Miitka, not even aware that Shane was in the room.  

He looked up when Hayden clapped him on the shoulder, signalling for the boys to head out onto the ice. Shane hung back, waiting for the boys to clear out before he doubled back and grabbed the washed and folded shirt he had inadvertently stolen from Ilya and stuffed it in his gym bag before he followed them out to the ice.  

Shane held it together perfectly fine until he joined the boys on the ice, looking up into the stands where they were all winking and waving to and dropped his stick when he saw Rose with Svetlana and Lisa.  

“I didn’t know your missus was coming, Hollander!” Watts said, slapping him on the back.  

“Rosie!” JJ shouted, waving up at her. Rose beamed as she waved back at JJ, blowing Shane a kiss before she turned back to the girls.  

Shane could feel Ilya’s eyes on him for the first time. He looked at Ilya, feeling sick at the surprise and the disappointment in his face. He was tempted to skate off, to go and vomit and take himself home, citing some mystery illness, but he couldn’t. He forced himself to stay; he couldn’t keep running away.  

He couldn’t afford to look suspicious.  

>>>  

They lost their game.  

Shane tried not to care – it was recreational hockey, after all. They only played for fun. But when Scott Hunter smirked in his face and wished him better luck next time, Hollander, Shane found himself wishing that this was professional hockey so he could get away with throwing a punch.  

He knew it was his fault. He and Ilya were out of sync, and it had cost everyone the game.  

Ilya hadn’t looked at him again. Hayden had even commented that Ilya seemed to be off his game, not saying anything about how off his game Shane was. But maybe it was easier for Hayden to blame the guy that had only played a handful of games with them so far than to blame Shane, who had been carrying their team on his back for the better part of the three years since they’d started playing together.  

Marleau in particular seemed annoyed; he had clearly wanted to show off for Svetlana. She was beautiful, up in the stands in an oversized grey hoodie that had to have belonged to Marleau, sitting with Rose and Lisa, cheering for him. Marleau had blushed when Svetlana had cheered for him. It was sweet.  

Shane wished he could feel the same about Rose as she cheered for him, but all he felt was disgust. Disgust with himself for hurting Rose, even if she didn’t know it yet. Disgust for how he had made Ilya feel – even if he didn’t know how Ilya felt exactly, Shane knew that somehow, he had hurt him, too.  

He spent the entire game avoiding Rose’s eye while trying to catch Ilya’s, and failing at both. Failing at everything.  

Shane had never hated himself more.  

Shane hung his head as he followed the boys back into the locker room, watching as a few of them headed into the showers. He wasn’t sticking around today, he decided. He text Rose to let her know that he was going straight home, shucking his pads and skates off, tossing everything into his gym bag and telling the boys that he was going to shower at home, ignoring Miitka’s yelling about commiseration drinks tonight.  

He thought he had made it out unscathed until he walked down the hallway, slowing when he caught sight of Ilya leaning against the wall, still in his gear, talking to Svetlana. Shane kept his pace neutral as he walked, his ear cocking when he realised that Ilya was talking faster than he’d ever heard him speak before.  

They were speaking Russian.  

Shane had heard a little bit the other night when they were together; Ilya had been unable to stop himself from moaning sweet nothings in Russian, pressing words into his chest, over his heart, as he kissed his way down Shane’s front, whispering things Shane desperately wished he could understand into the crease of his thigh.  

It had sounded so romantic, Shane had thought. He had heard people say that Russian was a crude, rough language, that it was aggressive and hard, but Shane hadn’t thought so. Hearing Ilya speak it, it had sounded so lovely, so luscious and soft. So beautiful. The sounds had made his mouth move in ways English didn’t, and Shane had thought it made his beautiful mouth look even more beautiful. Romantic, dreamy. Musical.  

Shane kept moving down the hallway. He could feel Svetlana look at him, and he could feel Ilya pointedly not look at him. For the first time, Shane thought he might understand how Russian could sound harsh.  

He made it all the way to the parking lot, hiding behind the trunk as he threw up, bile and water hitting the pavement behind his car.  

Shane made it all the way back to the shower in his apartment before he felt tears form in his eyes.  

He kept his promise not to cry, though.  

Or, he thought he did. Under the shower spray, there was really no way to tell.  

>>>  

Shane stared at the photo as he chewed on his lower lip.  

The cut was gone, and the bruise healed. When he bit down hard enough, he could feel the echo of an ache, but it wasn’t the same as when Ilya had done it.  

He should have kept the shirt.  

It was all Shane had been able to think about all day. He had snuck it back to Ilya so Rose didn’t find it in their apartment, but Shane had wanted to keep it. He had wanted to keep it so badly.  

He had let himself try it on, just once, locked in the bathroom while Rose was at work the day before, desperate to recall the feeling of Ilya over him, the sheer size of him. They were the same size, really, but Shane had felt so dwarfed by Ilya. So covered, so small and precious beneath him.  

He hadn’t wanted to give it the shirt back, but he had to. For his own sanity. All these pieces of Ilya that he was inadvertently collecting, he had to give them back.  

Shane couldn’t keep them. He couldn’t keep any of it.  

He wondered if Ilya had kept his shirt. Did he even know that Shane had accidentally swapped their shirts on his way out last Friday night? Did he care? Had he found Shane’s shirt, the white Ducati one with the black stain under the tyre, and kept it? Had he buried his nose in it and tried to smell Shane on it, the way Shane had done with Ilya’s shirt? Had he been so hurt when Shane had run out on him that he’d thrown it out, maybe burned it?  

Shane wanted to know. He wanted to ask. He wanted to tell Ilya that he had wanted to keep his shirt more than anything, but that he couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t risk keeping any more of Ilya with him than he deserved. He had already taken too much.  

He didn’t have room for anything else. He had to be the perfect son, the perfect boyfriend. Shane had to be so many things for the people that loved him, he couldn’t be anything else. He couldn’t be someone that hated his life. He couldn’t be someone that wanted Ilya.  

He couldn’t do that to Rose. He loved Rose, he really did. He couldn’t betray her more than he already had. He needed to step up, to do better. Be better, for her.  

Shane couldn’t let himself think about what he would give up to feel Ilya one more time. Because if he thought about it, he might think about what he’d risk losing for it, and how he might be okay with it. He might think about how he’d only known Ilya a few weeks, but some part of him, more than just his body, felt like he’d known Ilya his whole life. Like they had really connected on some deeper level that wasn’t about the sex. Like maybe there was something to that stupid tumblr quote about being made from the same stardust or whatever.  

He jumped when his phone pinged, checking his texts.  

Rose [17:38 Saturday]  

Bad news, I have to fly to New York tonight. PR crisis.  

Shane [17:38 Saturday]  

The actress that’s dating her drug dealer again?  

Rose [17:42 Saturday]  

Oh, you mean the one who just got his NAME tattooed on HER ASS underneath PROPERTY OF and posted it on Instagram??? Yes, that’s the one.  

I'm gonna be gone for at least three days, I’m so sorry babe, I’m gonna have to miss dinner tomorrow night too  

Shane [17:43 Saturday]  

And I thought the PR cycle took the weekends off.  

It's okay, really. Do you need me to drop some stuff off for you?  

Rose [17:46 Saturday]  

Between the never ending news cycle and antifeminist ass tattoos PR never rests.  

I'm gonna swing past the house on the way to the airport, but if you wanna grab the suitcase out of the hall closet I would really appreciate that!  

Shane sent a thumbs up and went to grab the suitcase, stuffed into the highest shelf in a space that should technically be labelled an attic crawlspace, and started grabbing her everyday things that he knew she would want to pack. It was a whirlwind when Rose ran through the door twenty minutes later, finishing her packing and giving him a deep, grateful kiss before she ran back out the door.  

Shane watched from the window as Rose got into her waiting cab and took off, grabbing his keys and running out the door before he could second guess himself.  

>>>  

He didn’t expect the cheering that came from the back of the bar when he walked in. Shane smiled nervously as he approached the boys, scanning the table quickly and breathing a small sigh of relief when he spotted Ilya amongst them, sandwiched between Vaughn and Miity, pointedly drinking his beer and refusing to look at him.  

“Boys,” Shane greeted, giving an awkward wave. He noted the mostly empty pitchers of beer and offered to grab the next round, surprised when Hayden and JJ materialised next to him as he tried to get the bartender’s attention.  

“Everything okay?” Hayden asked.  

“Yeah,” Shane lied, relieved to finally get the bartender’s attention and ordering six pitchers of beer.  

“You’re out two weeks in a row,” JJ said gently. “And tonight’s not even a special occasion. What's going on?”  

“I go out,” Shane defended, taking out his card and paying for the pitchers. “I do stuff.”  

“Yeah, but you normally have a whole bunch of caveats for coming out,” Hayden said. “You normally don’t come out in your sweatpants.”  

“Rose is away for work this weekend,” Shane said, cursing himself for running out of the house without changing into something presentable. At least they were black and fitted, probably not noticeable in the dark bar.  

They were still staring at him worriedly, so Shane opted for a little more honesty than he would have liked. “I didn’t wanna sit at home the entire time alone with my thoughts.”  

There. It was honest without being incriminating. They both knew Shane well enough to know that sometimes he got a bit lost in his own head, unable to pull himself out of whatever he was spiralling about on his own.  

They didn’t need to know that this was a genuine crisis that he was having.  

“Well, I’m glad you nipped that in the butt and came out with us. Losing a game is much easier to stomach when we get to drink about it,” Hayden beamed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Shane smiled, nodding at them to help him carry the pitchers back to the table.  

He sat almost across from Ilya, trying not to stare at him. Ilya’s hair was pushed back, and the long sleeved white shirt he was wearing was...indecent. Two buttons too many were unbuttoned, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Even in the dim lights of the bar, he looked beautiful.  

But Shane could see it in his eyes – the sadness.  

Shane tried to keep his eyes off of Ilya, making conversation with Vaughn about work. He and JJ had gone to school with Vaughn. He was a couple of years older, but he was always nice to Shane.  

But right now, Shane fucking hated him. Because Vaughn kept knocking elbows with Ilya, squeezed in too close in the overcrowded table, and Shane wanted to scream about how lucky Vaughn was to be able to touch him in public. To touch him, and not be affected by it. 

Even sitting near him, Shane felt dizzy.  

Ilya was ignoring him. It felt obvious to him, the way he swept the table constantly with his eyes and skipped Shane, though he doubted anyone else would have cottoned onto that fact. The bar was loud and busy, but Shane could see the way Ilya had angled himself so that he couldn’t catch Shane’s eye.  

It sickened Shane how much he wanted Ilya to look at him. He'd never wanted anyone to look at him more than he wanted Ilya’s eyes on him again.  

Shane downed half his beer in one go, ignoring the way Vaughn looked at him in surprise. He let his eyes drop down to Ilya’s hands, splayed out on the table across from him as he talked to Marleau about something, wishing he could feel those hands on him again. He wished he could talk to Ilya, to tell him that. To talk to him, to say anything.  

Not that he had any idea what to say to him. Shane had chosen to walk away; he was the one that had told Ilya that this couldn’t happen again. He had run from Ilya.  

Shane was the one that was trying so hard to bury everything inside himself that wanted Ilya.  

Shane was the one that ruined everything.  

Maybe he could apologise to Ilya, and Ilya would be so angry he would punch him. He finished the rest of his glass, pouring himself a second and tearing into that one, too.  

Shane would let him, he thought. Just to feel Ilya touch him again, he would let him.  

>>>  

Shane huffed as Hunter pushed him inside a cab, groaning as he searched for the seatbelt. 

“I don’t need to be babied,” Miitka said. “I’m practically sober.”  

“Me, too,” Marleau said somewhere to Shane’s left.  

“Okay, well, why don’t you guys all soberly tell the nice driver where you live and wake up tomorrow totally hangover free,” Hunter laughed before he slammed the door shut.  

Shane flipped him the bird as Vaughn gave his address first, given that he lived the closest. Shane lived the furthest; part of why he drove and never drank was so he didn’t have to worry about being motion sick in random backseats, but this was nice. The windows were all open, and the cool night air was sobering him up.  

So much so that when they dropped Vaughn off, Shane realised that he was pressed tightly against Marleau. He pulled away, flinching.  

“Sorry,” Shane muttered.  

“You’re warm,” Marleau smiled at him, not opening his eyes. “Rose must love that. Women run cold. Svetlana's always wrapped around me like a blanket.”  

Shane hummed noncommittally. He had no idea if Rose liked it or not. He wondered if Svetlana had liked that about Ilya; Shane loved that about Ilya. How warm he was all. How his skin felt like it had been soaking in the sunlight, even in the middle of the night. Like Ilya was the sun.  

“How far?” Miitka murmured from the front seat.  

“Two minutes,” Shane said, looking out the window. He watched the houses zoom by as they made it to Miitka’s house, Marleau giving his address next and stretching out across the backseat, his knee still knocking against Shane’s as the car moved.  

“You okay?” Marleau asked.  

“I’m sobering up,” Shane said honestly.  

“I’ve never seen you drink as much as I have in the last few days,” Marleau said in the same tone JJ had used earlier that night. “What’s going on?”  

Shane shook his head, but he had enough alcohol still in his system to open his mouth and spill something he shouldn’t.  

“I think I fucked up,” he admitted.  

“How badly?” Marleau asked quietly.  

“Pretty fucking bad,” Shane said before he could stop himself. “I hurt someone.”  

Marleau seemed to consider him before asking, “Why did you do it?”  

Shane couldn’t have expected that question. He thought Marleau would ask him what he did. Not why he did it. He thought about it, and decided to tell the truth.  

“I just wanted to know what it would be like,” he admitted to himself. “To feel something, for once. To see if it would make me happy.”  

“Did it?”  

Shane didn’t say anything. He hoped that Marleau couldn’t see the tears burning in his eyes. Shane forced himself not to blink, refusing to let them spill over and give him away.  

Marleau didn’t say a word as the cab pulled into his street, reaching over and pulling Shane into his side like a hug. Shane went easily, pasting on a smile as the cab stopped, clapping Marleau on the back and watching him amble inside, not realising until the driver asked for his address that they weren’t at Marleau’s apartment building. They must be at Svetlana’s. 

Shane rattled off the address for the next stop without thinking.  

>>>  

He could feel himself shake violently, trying to keep calm as he waited for the door to open. Shane bit his lip, chewing on it, cursing the recently developed habit that he was probably never going to shake.  

Shane stood firm as the door opened. Ilya stared at him blankly, waiting for him to say something. And Shane should say something; he was the one that came to Ilya. Ilya, whose eyes were cold as he stared at Shane.  

The coldness didn’t suit Ilya. He was summer, he was sunshine. He was warmth.  

Shane had done this. Shane had made him cold.  

Shane would never forgive himself.  

“I’m sorry,” Shane said. It felt too small, not specific enough, but it was somewhere to start. 

Ilya sniffed, looking disinterested as he brushed his hair out of his face. Shane felt jealous; he wanted to do that for Ilya. Briefly, he registered that his hair was wet, curly and wild again.  

Shane liked his hair better like this.  

"If I knew you had a girlfriend –”  

“I know,” Shane cut him off. “I fucked up. On so many levels. I should have been honest with you. It's the least you deserve.”  

Ilya didn’t say anything. Shane looked down at him, chewing on his lip again as he processed through the slight beer haze that Ilya was bare, save for his underwear. He had answered the door in only his black boxer briefs, fresh out of the shower. It was all Shane could do to stop himself from sinking to his knees and rubbing his face against his cock, the way he had the last time he was here, begging to taste Ilya.  

God, he missed the way Ilya tasted.  

He missed that freckle on his right hip almost more than anything else.  

Shane forced himself to look at Ilya’s face, the ache in his chest easing a little as Ilya stared right at him.  

“Please,” Shane said, his voice weaker than he would have liked. “I don’t have any excuses. I just – I just wanted to know what it would feel like. What it would be like. With you. Please believe me. I just needed to know, just once. I never meant to hurt you. Or her. Please, Ilya. Please believe that. I was selfish, and I wasn’t thinking about anything other than being with you.”  

It was begging. It was so similar to what he had done for Ilya two weeks ago. It felt so fucking good. So right. Like he was doing the exact thing that he should be doing.  

Ilya stepped back and opened the door.  

Chapter 3: Inflammation

Shane felt the thrum of anticipation buzz under his skin as he chewed on his lip, looking for his words. Ilya was perfectly still, completely silent, leaning against the closed door with his arms crossed protectively over his chest as Shane paced the living room, trying to find the right words.  

He stopped, his eyes catching on the thick black curls beneath Ilya’s bellybutton, trailing down into his underwear. Shane forced himself to look up at Ilya’s face, flinching when he saw how blank and vacant he looked.  

“I’ve never been with a man before,” Shane blurted before he could stop himself.  

Ilya raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. His eyes looked shuttered somehow. Be honest, Shane chastised himself.  

“And I never really wanted to be with a man before,” Shane said. He made a face when he realised that was kind of a lie. “I mean, not exactly. It was like, I never really wanted to be with anyone. I didn’t think I had those feelings at all. Wanting to have sex or – or being attracted to someone. But then I met you, and I had all those feelings for the first time, you know?”  

Ilya’s eyes cleared a little bit, but he just watched Shane as he tapped his foot against the floor. It was embarrassing, being so honest with his innermost thoughts, but Shane knew that Ilya deserved to hear them. He needed to at least try and explain why he acted the way that he did. It was sobering, hearing himself think out loud, but he couldn’t stop now.  

“It was like, I didn’t realise how empty everything was before,” Shane breathed. “How like, dark it was. Because my whole life was like that, and it was all I knew. And then you were on the team, and you were like – like this kind of lightning rod that lit everything up and you showed me how dark everything really was, you know? And then you kissed me, and it was like I wasn’t dark anymore either, and I wanted more. I wanted you.”  

Shane took a deep breath, looking at Ilya.  

Be honest.  

“I want you,” Shane said, baring his soul more than he would have liked.  

Ilya’s jaw clenched. “You gave back my shirt.”  

“I wanted to keep it,” Shane confessed, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment. “I wanted to wear it. I wanted to wear it in my house and think of you. I wanted to show up at the gym in it. I wanted everyone to see that it was too big for me and know that it wasn’t mine. That it’s yours.”  

That I’m yours, Shane wanted to say so badly. But it was too soon, too much. Too wrong, under the circumstances.  

Ilya shook his head. “You have a girlfriend.”  

“Yeah,” Shane nodded, shame sloshing around his stomach. “And I care about Rose. She's my friend. I love her. But I don’t – I’ve never – with her, it’s not how it was with you.”  

Shane chewed on his lip, his stomach settling just a little bit when Ilya’s eyes dipped down to his lip, his own lips parting slightly, as if he was remembering what he had done to Shane’s lip the last time they were here.  

“I didn’t mean to lie to you,” Shane said, shame burning through his chest as he prepared himself to admit the worst part of this all. “If I’m being really honest, I forgot all about her that night. I forgot everything. All I could think about was you. Being with you. I didn’t think about hurting anyone. It was like I was blind and you were the only thing I could see clearly. Like, you touched me, and you were all that there was. I don’t know – I don’t know how to explain it.”  

Ilya pushed off the door, relaxing his arms and walking slowly to Shane. Shane held his breath as Ilya stood in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle, his turn to be still, as Ilya reached for his lip and pulled it down, his face falling slightly he saw his bite mark was gone.  

It was gratifying to know that Ilya might have been thinking about it, just like Shane had. Did he spend the last two weeks replaying their night together, Shane wondered. Did Ilya miss the way Shane tasted? Had he thought about the sweet metallic taste of his blood, mixed with the come that they had passed back and forth with their tongues?  

“You forgot you had a girlfriend,” Ilya repeated flatly, his thumb pressing into the soft wet skin inside Shane’s lip.  

“You’re all I’ve been able to think about for the last two weeks,” Shane breathed, Ilya’s thumb still pressing down on his lip. “Before that.”  

Ilya met his eyes, and it felt exactly like that night again. There was fire in them. Shane felt himself shiver slightly as Ilya stared him down, his free hand coming to rest on Shane’s hip. 

“Pretty boy like you can get sex anywhere,” Ilya murmured. Shane felt warmth spread through him at being called pretty. Ilya had called him pretty so many times the other night it had made his head spin.  

People had called him handsome, attractive, even hot. JJ had told him once that Shane was the best looking man that he knew. But Ilya was the only person who had called ever him pretty.  

Shane wasn’t proud of the way his eyes fluttered shut at the word. It wasn’t a compliment – not tonight, not the way Ilya's voice sounded, tight and hurt, but it still made him ache to hear it.  

"It’s not about the sex,” Shane admitted to them both as he opened his eyes.  

Ilya dug his thumbnail into Shane’s lip, exactly where Ilya’s teeth had cut into him before. Right where he was healed, nice shiny, fresh new skin holding him together, preventing him from bleeding for Ilya again. He hated that fresh, new skin. Shane could feel Ilya’s soft breaths on his lips; he inhaled greedily, as if he could breathe him in.  

“It’s this,” Shane whispered. “It’s you.”  

He saw something flash through Ilya’s eyes, feral and – possessive, almost. Shane could feel it in the way Ilya’s hand moved from his lip, grabbing his chin and forcing his face up to him.  

“It’s me,” Ilya repeated, his voice still flat, but his eyes were burning. Shane nodded, gratified just to have Ilya touching him again. His touch was so warm; Shane had never felt anyone with skin like Ilya’s before. It was like he was imbued with fire.  

Shane understood the cue. Ilya wanted him to keep begging.  

Shane could do that. Shane would be delighted to do that.  

“It’s us,” Shane murmured, closing his eyes and leaning into Ilya’s touch.  

Ilya sighed; if Shane wasn’t so close to him, he wouldn’t have felt it, but he caught it. He wanted to reach out to Ilya so badly, to touch him, to feel him, but he wasn’t sure Ilya would want that. Not yet, anyways.  

Shane had to let Ilya come back to him. He'd already opened the door for him; Shane knew it was only a matter of time before Ilya was in his arms again. But Ilya had been hurt before, Shane knew. It wasn’t going to be easy.  

And it shouldn’t be, Shane knew that. Shane knew that he was going to have to prove to Ilya that he was worth the risk. Worth the pain. Worth the inevitable hurt that Shane would bring him.  

“Please,” Shane whispered. “Let me apologise to you.”  

Ilya looked curious. For the first time since he had opened the door, he didn’t look angry or hurt. Shane waited for Ilya to process his request, his eyes softening imperceptibly before he nodded curtly, just once, his hand dropping from Shane’s face.  

Shane fell to his knees before he could think twice about it. He sighed as he pressed himself up against Ilya’s bare legs, nuzzling his head against Ilya’s crotch. He made a soft noise when he felt Ilya’s hardness, pressing his cheek against it, closing his eyes and sighing happily.  

He'd never thought he’d get to do this again.  

God, he had fucking missed Ilya. Shane pressed his nose into the crease of his thigh and breathed in deeply, taking him in. Ilya smelled like soap and sunshine and softness. He could feel Ilya trying to hold himself still, but the hand he had let wander to Shane’s hair betrayed him.  

Shane wasn’t alone in this. It felt worse, somehow, to know for sure that there was something real between them, and that Ilya felt it too. He had tried so hard to convince himself that this wasn’t real, that he had been imagining it. That to Ilya, it was just casual, meaningless sex, but Shane hadn’t been able to ignore the way Ilya had been so consumed by him when they had shared their night together. Ilya hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of him, hadn’t been able to stop touching him. Hadn't been able to stop calling him pretty, perfect, a litany of words in Russian that Shane could just feel were loaded, heavy with meaning in a way nothing in English could be.  

It went both ways. Shane knew that now. He was foolish for ever thinking he could walk away from this.  

He was foolish for thinking that Ilya would, too. There was something between them that was bigger than them. Shane could feel it, surer than he’d felt anything before.  

Shane nuzzled closer, letting his mouth fall open and trailing his lips across Ilya’s cock through his underwear. He felt the hand in his hair tighten as Shane pressed his tongue out and sucked through the fabric before he sat up taller on his knees, kissing his way up to Ilya’s treasure trail.  

Shane had been fascinated with the thick patch of black curls since he had seen Ilya take off his shirt after his first game with them in the locker room. Even then, Shane had wanted to get on his knees and press his face into the hair, to feel if it was soft or coarse, to rub against it. He had wanted to touch it, to see what freckles were hiding beneath it that those curls were hiding.  

He let himself do it now, a soft noise escaping his throat at how soft Ilya felt. He pressed a kiss below his bellybutton before he kissed his way across his Adonis belt, to the freckle on his right hip that Shane hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.  

He held Ilya firmly by the hips as he pressed a wet kiss to that freckle. Shane let himself dig his fingers into Ilya as he parted his lips, kissing his favourite freckle like he was kissing Ilya’s mouth.  

He relaxed a little when he heard Ilya moan lowly, the hand in Shane’s hair tightening to the point of pain. Shane didn’t stop, letting his hands wander down to the waistband of Ilya’s underwear and peeling them down slowly –  

Ilya yanked him back harshly by the hair. Shane struggled to keep his balance on his knees as Ilya bent down to look at him. In the low light of the lamp by the door, Shane could see his saliva shining across Ilya’s abdomen, a wet trail of kisses where he’d been. Where he’d be again in moments.  

Mine, Shane thought proudly.  

Ilya yanked his hair again, pulling Shane up. Shane stood, taking a breath as Ilya let go of his hair and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him to his bedroom.  

Shane bit his lip as he followed, unsure of what to expect, but thrilled that Ilya was giving him a chance to make this right somehow. If he was done with Shane, he would have thrown him out the front door. He would have never let him in to begin with.  

But Ilya had let him in, and given Shane a second chance. The chance to make this right.  

Shane knew he hadn’t even begun to apologise. He had a long way to go before he could even dream of fixing this. But he was determined to make this right by Ilya. By the both of them. Somehow.  

Ilya shoved Shane into his bedroom, and Shane couldn’t help but look around, everything from that night flooding back to him.  

The dresser that they had knocked into roughly as they had ambled in kissing, completely sober and eager for one another. The armchair by the huge window that Ilya had pushed him down into while he sucked his cock for the first time. The bed where they had done – well, everything.  

Shane chewed his lip as he looked at Ilya, unsure of what he wanted from him. Ilya always seemed to know what he wanted; he had that look in his eye, like he knew exactly how Shane was going to make it up to him. How he would prove himself.  

Shane just had to wait and give it to him when he asked for it. This was how he would apologise.  

“Take off your clothes,” Ilya said.  

Shane hastily tossed his jacket onto the ground, not bothering to fold anything, stripping off his t shirt as he kicked off his shoes, yanking his sweatpants and socks haphazardly. He hooked his thumbs into his underwear before he checked back with Ilya, still staring at him tensely.  

Take off your clothes, Ilya had said. Not take everything off except your underwear, Shane admonished himself. He pushed them down his legs, kicking them off and standing as still as he could before Ilya. It was a long, agonising moment before Ilya touched him again, placing his hands on Shane’s hips and digging in, bruisingly hard. Shane gasped as Ilya turned him around roughly, shoving him forward onto his stomach onto the mattress, his hand pressing roughly between his shoulder blades.  

Shane shuffled only enough to make sure he was flat on his chest, his ass sticking out for Ilya as he turned his head to look behind him. Ilya reached across to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube Shane had become intimately familiar with the other night and unscrewing the cap. He whimpered as Ilya poured some directly into the cleft of his ass, the cold making him flinch. Ilya moved fast, his free hand massaging the lube around his hole, catching it before it could drip down his balls.  

He could feel himself pushing back against Ilya, already needing more.  

Shane had felt empty for too long.  

Ilya seemed to be as impatient as Shane. He pressed a finger inside, slowly, but not as slow as the first time. Ilya had been so gentle, almost loving, that first night. He had pushed and stretched Shane beyond his limits, but he had gone slow, treated Shane so reverently. Ilya had kissed him slow and deep, making love to him like he was worshipping him. Shane had felt so special. Treasured.  

There was none of that now. Now, Ilya knew what Shane’s body could do, and he wanted him to do it again. And he knew that Shane wanted that too.  

Ilya's hand moved up from his back to his head, pressing him down harder into the mattress as he pressed a second finger inside Shane. Shane moaned loudly as he pushed back into Ilya, showing him that he was okay, that he was ready for more.  

Even when Shane couldn’t find the words, he knew he could count on his body to come through for him and say what his mouth couldn’t.  

Ilya responded in kind, fingering Shane open roughly. For all Ilya’s hardness and coldness tonight, Shane realised that he was still being careful with Shane. He was still making sure Shane was ready for him.  

Shane didn’t deserve it. Guilt flooded him again as Ilya scissored his fingers inside him, making sure Shane could take all of him.  

Shane would have taken him without being stretched open. He tried to tell Ilya that, but he wasn’t sure his mouth was working. Or maybe his ears weren’t working properly. The only thing he could hear was Ilya’s desperate breaths, heavy and laboured as he pulled his fingers away and rubbed his cockhead against Shane’s hole.  

He bit his lip, trying to turn his head a little so he could see Ilya, but Ilya pushed his face down into the sheets harder. Maybe he didn’t want Shane to look at him; Shane wasn’t quite sure. He moaned as Ilya pressed inside him, only giving him a short moment to catch his breath before he started fucking him.  

Shane never thought he would feel bliss like this again. He screwed his eyes shut as he listened to Ilya’s moans, the sound of their skin smacking against each other, the rustle of the sheets beneath him, the heel of Ilya’s hand digging harshly into his skull, the pain shooting down his spine, feeling perfect.  

Every cell in his body felt so alive, so awake with Ilya inside him. Shane pushed his hips back against every thrust, clenching and listening to Ilya steadily lose control as he fucked Shane harder, less controlled with each and every punishing roll of his hips. Shane gasped as he moved with him, trying to make this perfect for Ilya, trying to show him how good he could be for him, to be what he needed –  

Shane moaned loudly as Ilya came with a low groan, grinding his hips deep against Shane’s ass. Shane whimpered as he felt Ilya spill inside him, his mind faltering when he realised that they hadn’t used condoms. Not the other night, and not now. Shane twisted against the sheets inadvertently, rubbing his cock between his stomach and the bed, feeling delighted by how utterly filthy reckless they were being.  

He wanted to come so bad, but he forced himself to hold on. This wasn’t for him, Shane knew that. This was for Ilya. It was all for Ilya.   

He pushed back against Ilya as he thrust inside him, hot and wet, gasping as Ilya ground against his ass. Shane moaned softly as Ilya grazed his hand down his face, finally letting go from keeping him pinned down and running his hand down Shane’s back. Shane turned his head, relieved to finally see Ilya’s face, flushed red and sweaty, moaning softly as Ilya finally looked at him.  

He gasped as Ilya pulled out without warning. Shane heard the pathetic whimper he let out, reaching behind him aimlessly for something, anything to keep him anchored, gasping when Ilya dropped to his knees behind him, spreading his cheeks and –  

Shane cried out as Ilya pressed his tongue into his hole. He keened loudly as Ilya licked and sucked at him, oversensitivity washing over him as Ilya nipped at his ass sinking his teeth into him again. Shane pushed back against Ilya’s mouth, moaning as Ilya’s fingers pressed into his thighs too hard to be accidental.  

He didn’t deserve this, Shane knew. He didn’t deserve this gift that Ilya was giving him, fucking him and making it so good. He had come here to apologise to Ilya, to try and make things right, but Ilya had fucked him and was now eating him out. He’d done it two weeks ago, too – Shane's first time experiencing such a thing, and it had been tender. Intimate.  

It wasn’t like it was right now.  

Ilya was making a point. Shane just wasn’t quite sure what the message was yet.  

Shane groaned as Ilya sucked roughly at his hole, squirming at the sensation.  

He resolved to wait and follow Ilya’s lead, to do what he was told. To show Ilya with his body how much he regretted running away from him, to show him that he was sorry. To apologise in the right way, the way Ilya would accept.  

Shane felt Ilya’s hands move up his body, pulling at him. Shane let him manoeuvre him roughly, sliding down the bed and falling to his knees before him. Ilya grabbed his face, forcing his thumb between his lips. Shane took his cue, opening his mouth as he looked up at him –  

Shock flooded his body as Ilya bent down close to him and opened his mouth, showing him his own come on his tongue.  

Shane recognised it for what it was.  

An offering.  

Shane stuck his tongue out, opening wide for Ilya. Something flashed through Ilya’s eyes as he tilted Shane’s head towards him, leaning closer and –  

Drooled, his own come and spit directly into Shane’s mouth.  

Shane's cock ached as he stared up at Ilya, taking in the manic, feral look in his eyes, the absolute pleasure in them. Shane kept his tongue out, taking everything Ilya had to give him, feeling spoiled. He didn’t deserve this gift Ilya was handing to him. His come, his forgiveness.  

God, he had missed how sweet Ilya tasted.  

Shane was vaguely aware of his stomach tightening, his cock jerking even without his touch as Ilya pressed closer, their lips brushing for a moment, softer, sweeter than a kiss somehow before he pulled back, standing tall.  

Ilya wiped his tongue with his thumb, collecting anything he missed and pressed it into Shane’s mouth as if he was forcing his come down Shane’s throat. As if Shane hadn’t taken it all, as if he wasn’t waiting for Ilya to let him swallow. Shane sucked and waited as Ilya clenched his jaw, staring back at Shane, his eyes locked on his mouth. Ilya tapped his cheek, and Shane finally swallowed.  

He'd missed Ilya’s taste so much. Shane savoured him, closing his eyes and wrapping his lips tightly around his thumb, moaning as his entire body flushed, coiled tight, heat spreading through him. Shane swallowed again before he opened his mouth, showing Ilya he’d taken it all. He hadn’t wasted a drop of him.  

Ilya looked pleased as he ran his eyes over Shane, his body untensing slightly, his shoulders unfurling. Shane stared up at him, feeling...marked.  

Owned.  

Ilya moved his thumb from his mouth, grabbing Shane’s chin and making him look up at him.  

Shane felt sated. He hoped that he’d somehow been able to show Ilya how he felt about him, about them. That Ilya could feel it.  

He made a surprised noise as Ilya grabbed him by the arms and hauled him up to stand, dragging him along to the bathroom. Shane let him push him into the shower and turn on the water, bracing himself as the water ran cold for a moment before it began to warm up. Shane watched Ilya brush his teeth for a moment before he bowed his head under the water, stretching out his neck and grimacing when he saw the state of himself.  

He had come at some point – he wasn’t even sure when. Shane ran a hand through the mess on his abdomen, angling towards the water and washing himself off.  

Ilya hadn’t even been fucking him when he’d come, that much he was sure of. He was still hard and aching when Ilya had pulled out of him and  

Shane looked up as Ilya stepped into the shower, unsure of what to do next. But Ilya just reached for him, pressing him back against the freezing cold tiles and kissed him. Finally.  

He wasn’t sure he would get so lucky tonight to feel Ilya’s lips on his, but he was kissing him. It felt like forgiveness.  

Shane couldn’t stop the moan in his throat as Ilya kissed him deeply. This was what he had been craving more than anything in the last two weeks. This was the feeling that Shane had missed, so sick to his stomach for days at the thought of never kissing Ilya again. He wrapped his arms around Ilya greedily, pulling him as close as he could.  

Ilya moaned back in kind, his hands roaming all over Shane, as though he was touching him for the first time. Shane let himself take what he wanted, running his hands down Ilya’s chest, letting himself touch his warm skin, touching his freckles.  

“I missed you,” Shane breathed as Ilya pulled away slightly. Ilya held his face, his thumb brushing along underneath Shane’s eye. He prayed that his eyes were clear, that the tears he felt gathering on his lash line weren’t visible to Ilya. Shane let his eyes fall shut as he rested his forehead against Ilya’s shoulder, shame and guilt and loss burning a hole through his stomach, making him feel sick. He was grateful for the hot spray of the water on his face; he didn’t want to know if he was crying or not.  

Ilya wrapped his arms around him, and Shane held him back, knowing he didn’t deserve the comfort Ilya was giving him.  

“Stay,” Ilya whispered into his ear.  

Shane nodded.  

>>>  

Shane stirred, screwing his eyes shut when he realised the sun was shining directly in his face. He turned away from the light, burrowing into the warm arms and strong chest that were curled around him.  

He opened his eyes, smiling when he saw the line of freckles down Ilya’s sternum, pressing a soft kiss to them. Shane pushed Ilya onto his back slowly, climbing over him as he straddled him, moving up to his neck and kissing the freckle under his ear. He moved, down, across, kissing every freckle softly, whispering a silent apology to each one for ever thinking he could stay away from them.  

Shane worked his way down Ilya’s chest, pressing wet kisses to the freckle by his nipple, under his armpit, down his bicep, kissing the faint freckle on the back of his hand before moving to his other side. He let out a soft noise as Ilya’s hand moved to his hair as Shane kissed the trio of freckles under his nipple, moaning softly as Ilya pulled on his hair. Shane kept moving, kissing his way down the freckles on Ilya’s stomach, gratified when he found two new freckles he hadn’t seen before under the curls by his bellybutton, burying his face between his hips, biting softly at the freckle on his left thigh before shuffling down to Ilya’s knees, his ankles, and kissing his way back up.  

Ilya moaned lowly as Shane crawled between his legs, nuzzling his face against his bare cock, hard against his stomach.  

He had dried Shane off after their shower and dragged him into bed, turning off all the lights and holding him close, not saying a word. Shane had fallen asleep in Ilya’s arms, lamenting the fact that they hadn’t talked much, but grateful for it. He had thought about Marleau’s words to him in the cab earlier that night, his question about whether it was worth it all Shane could think about.  

It was. Shane knew it was. He'd known it before Ilya had touched his thigh under the table at the bar that first time. Before he had kissed him and invited him up to bed.  

If being with Ilya hadn’t made him so happy, Shane wouldn’t have felt so horrible being away from him. He was going to have to deal with this, he knew it. With Rose. With the repercussions of choosing to come back here last night.  

Just – not right now. Not yet.  

Right now, he had Ilya all to himself, and the world was still at bay. Right now, Ilya was underneath him, at his mercy, letting Shane explore. Letting him apologise.  

Shane looked up at Ilya as he licked his way up his length, gratified to see soft blue eyes gazing back at him. He made his way to Ilya’s tip, suckling experimentally at it.  

He had sucked Ilya’s cock on their first night together, his first time ever doing it. Shane was sure he was bad at it, but Ilya had been so responsive to his touch, to his tongue, and they had been so frantic, so desperate for Ilya to fuck him, that Shane hadn’t had much of a chance to really explore giving head.  

But it was quiet now, relaxed and calm. Nothing like the energy in the room last night. Ilya was watching him with patient interest, and Shane had time and clarity.  

He took his time, laving his tongue over the velvet soft skin of Ilya’s dick. Shane pressed his face close, inhaling the sweet scent of Ilya, more potent down here than the crease of his neck, sighing happily. Ilya brushed his hand through Shane’s hair – not pushing or moving him, just touching him.  

Shane wanted to burrow inside Ilya. He wondered if this was how Ilya felt. Like he wanted to live inside of him, to stay there forever.  

Shane bobbed his head deeper, experimentally sucking Ilya down deeper. He moaned at the taste of him, hollowing his cheeks and sucking harder. He preened when he heard Ilya moan, looking up to see Ilya watching him with dark, lustful eyes. Ilya didn’t move as Shane kept suckling at his cock, just watching him. Letting him please him.  

He loved it, having Ilya’s undivided attention on him. It made him feel desired, wanted. Shane moved his mouth a little faster, watching Ilya’s jaw clench as he hummed, his abs tightening with the effort to stay still. Shane shuffled a little, moving closer as he wrapped his hand around the base of Ilya’s dick, rutting against the sheets as Ilya moaned, long and low.  

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya breathed, his fingers curling in Shane’s hair, his accent thicker than usual. Whether it was the sex or just being the morning, he wasn’t sure, but Shane sucked him harder as he jerked what his mouth couldn’t reach, given how big Ilya’s cock was, how thick...  

Shane closed his eyes as the friction of the sheets against his own cock shot through his spine. He moaned as he sucked off Ilya, delighted to hear Ilya’s breathing pick up.  

“Shane,” Ilya said tersely.  

A warning.  

He didn’t pull off – not completely. Shane jerked Ilya faster, keeping the head of his cock in his mouth, suckling at the tip, flicking his tongue over the soft, taut skin. Ilya came with a low moan, muttering something in Russian as he spilled into Shane’s mouth, hot and delicious. Shane moaned as he came against the sheets, swallowing Ilya’s release before he opened wide, showing Ilya his empty mouth.  

Ilya pulled him to him roughly by the hair, kissing him and running his hand through Shane’s mess below his abdomen. Shane flinched as Ilya smeared his release across his stomach, catching his breath as Ilya pulled Shane to lay with him and rested his head against his chest. Shane threaded his hands through Ilya’s sweaty curls, fluffing them up, smiling to himself at how wild they looked.  

“You keep coming before I can touch you,” Ilya murmured, his mouth pressed to Shane’s nipple. Shane twitched when Ilya kissed him there, his tongue laving over his nipple before he leaned up, resting over Shane.  

“You keep acting like you’re not the reason I’m coming in the first place,” Shane teased.  

Ilya moved closer, kissing him properly, before he laid down next to him. It felt sweet when they both turned to lay on their sides, looking at each other. In the sunlight, Shane could see even more freckles on Ilya’s cheeks, up by his hairline.  

“We didn’t really talk last night,” Shane whispered, scared to bring it up.  

For his part, Ilya’s face remained open and calm. He shrugged as he reached for Shane, wrapping his fingers loosely around his wrist.  

“I understand that you don’t mean to hurt me,” Ilya said quietly.  

Shane nodded, his body feeling hollow. “I am sorry.”  

“I know,” Ilya whispered.  

“I don’t know what to do,” Shane admitted. “I don’t think I can stay away from you.”  

"I don’t want you to,” Ilya said lowly.  

Shane bit his lip, chewing at it for a moment before Ilya reached up and gently pressed his fingers to his lips. Shane went still as Ilya pushed him gently onto his back, climbing over him and kissing him softly before he took Shane’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard.  

He whimpered – in pain, in pleasure, Shane wasn’t sure, but Ilya kept biting down. Relief flooded Shane when he tasted that familiar metallic tang.  

When Ilya kissed Shane again, the comforting feeling of blood spilling between them, a pain that was real and tangible that Shane could focus on shooting though his lip, an ache that he could control, Shane realised that he would gladly split himself open and bleed every day for the rest of his life for Ilya.  

>>>  

Shane drove in silence, thumbing at his lip.  

They hadn’t said much else. Shane had cleaned himself up and gathered his clothes, kissing Ilya sweetly goodbye and leaving quietly.  

He hadn’t known what to say, and he was sure Ilya hadn’t either.  

Shane had no idea what to do. He had wanted to stay, to touch Ilya over and over and over, to make love to him, to ask him what he should do, but Shane had no right. Ilya had accepted his apology, but he hadn’t dared ask if he would see Shane again outside of their hockey games. And Shane hadn’t been brave enough to –  

Well, to say or do anything. Certainly not to make any sort of decision about his future, let alone his next steps.  

Shane had no idea what to do. And it was clear that Ilya wasn’t going to tell him what to do. Not outside of sex.  

They wanted each other. Maybe for right now, that was enough. It would have to be.  

He parked his car, making his way up to his apartment, grateful for the silence. Shane looked around, cringing when he saw Rose everywhere.  

Polaroids of Rose with her nephew were stuck to the fridge with magnets Shane had bought at a farmer’s market a few months ago. A photo of them on their first date was framed on the wall by the front door. The blanket Rose had gotten for Shane because she knew he’d love the texture was strewn messily across the couch. Her shoes were next to his on the shoe rack by the door.  

Shane made his way into the bathroom, going straight to the mirror and pulling his lip down. 

This bite mark was much worse this time around. Ilya had made sure of that.  

Shane loved it so fucking much.  

He reached for his phone, taking a photo without thinking twice. Ilya’s teeth marks were clear, the wound still bloody and raw. Shane dug his fingernail into the cut, wincing and smiling when it wept a tiny bit of blood.  

He chewed on his lip as he stripped off his clothes, flicking on the shower and standing under the boiling hot water, enjoying the burn.  

I just wanted to know what it would be like was what Shane had said last night. I wanted to know if it would make me happy.  

Did it? Marleau’s voice echoed through his head.  

Was it worth it?  

Shane had to stay far, far away from Ilya. He couldn’t go back; he couldn’t embrace this part of himself that he was rapidly becoming more and more desperate to explore. He had to tamp that down, to do the right thing by Rose.  

He was going to pretend none of this had ever happened. This was just some sort of waking dream that Shane would eventually forget about. They had parted on a perfect note this morning. All he had to do was leave it the way it was and move on.  

He had a life. He couldn’t give everything up and disappoint Rose, his friends and his parents just because Ilya –  

Just because of Ilya.  

Shane was going to fail. He was going to run back to Ilya, he knew it. He pressed his forehead to the cool tiles and sighed.  

Of course he was going to run back to Ilya.  

He tried not to think about what this meant for him, or for Rose. He couldn’t even begin to consider what this was going to do to the three of them.  

>>>  

Shane smiled as he saw them on the corner, waiting out front for him.  

“There he is,” his dad smiled as Shane approached.  

He hugged his father first before he hugged his mother, taking a moment to feel like a little kid, indulging in the illusion of feeling safe in her arms before letting go.  

“Hi, sweetheart.”  

“Hi, mom. How was the drive?” Shane asked, moving to the door and holding it open for them.  

“Easy, hardly any traffic,” David said, nodding as they went inside.  

Shane followed as Yuna approached the hostess stand and confirmed their reservation.  

“No Rose tonight?” David asked.  

“She had a work emergency,” Shane explained.  

“Oh, her mystery actress still giving her trouble?” Yuna asked.  

Shane nodded, smiling at the hostess as they followed her to their table.  

“There was something about an offensive tattoo of her boyfriends name in an offensive place,” Shane said.  

“Jesus,” David said. “You kids and your tattoos.”  

“I don’t have any,” Shane defended.  

“Thank god for that,” Yuna said. “Imagine marking yourself up for a man. Is there anything you would even want on your skin for the rest of your life?”  

Shane bit his lip without thinking, picturing the bite marks on the inside of his mouth.  

Yes, he thought to himself. There's something I would tattoo on me.  

It probably should have been a scary thought, but it wasn’t, strangely enough. Shane found himself wondering what it would be like, to walk around every day knowing he was permanently scarred by Ilya.  

“I would get one,” David said, interrupting Shane’s thoughts.  

“You would?” Shane asked.  

“Oh yeah. I’d get your mother’s name across my chest in big block letters,” David winked.  

Yuna rolled her eyes as Shane laughed, but something inside him twinged at the idea. His father could do that, and nobody would think twice. Nobody would think it was weird. They were married and in love. That's what people who were in love did for each other.  

Shane wanting Ilya on his skin was too much, probably. They weren’t in love. They were attracted to each other. Friends, maybe. It wasn’t the same.  

“Don’t give Shane any ideas,” Yuna said jokingly. “He’ll have a rose tattoo next time we see him.”  

“A rose?” Shane asked, confused.  

His parents both looked at him like he was crazy.  

“For your Rose?” Yuna said.  

It took Shane too long to realise what she meant. He had forgotten all about Rose. Again. While they had been talking about her.  

“Oh,” Shane said, chewing on his lip before forcing himself to stop.  

He had to stop thinking about Ilya. His parents loved Rose; part of what Shane loved about her was how well she fit into his world, in with his family. She was perfect.  

Shane didn’t understand why he didn’t feel for her what he felt for Ilya.  

It wasn’t fair.  

“Shane, is everything okay?” his dad asked.  

He was saved from answering by the waiter coming to take their drink orders. Shane ordered a ginger ale, staring down at the table as his parents asked about the wine list, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him as he tried not to look at the waiter’s forearms, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up in a ridiculously sexy and unprofessional way.  

“Actually, maybe it’s a good thing Rose isn’t here tonight,” Yuna said.  

Shane frowned, but she smiled conspiratorially and looked at his father, who smiled.  

“There’s something your father and I wanted to talk to you about,” Yuna said.  

He braced himself, absolutely clueless as to what they could have to be unhappy about.  

Shane was doing great at his job; he’d gotten a promotion earlier that year.  

He had friends that he saw a couple of times a week; after years of them worrying that he was antisocial and isolated, he’d proven them wrong.  

He had hobbies that he loved. He was in the best shape of his life, and he was enjoying playing hockey and boxing.  

He had Rose, the perfect girlfriend. She was everything a girlfriend should be: kind, generous, loving and sweet. Everyone loved her. She was exactly the kind of girl his parents wanted him with.  

Shane had done everything right. He was sure of it.  

It wouldn’t have been so perfect if he hadn’t put all this work in. Years, years of dedication to the role of Shane Hollander were paying off now. His parents were happy. It was all worth it.  

“You and Rose have been together for a while now,” Yuna said, reaching into her bag. “And, you know, we adore her. We think she’s wonderful for you, Shane.”  

Shane pasted on a smile, unsure of where this was going. He felt sick. He glanced to the door, briefly wondering how long it would take him to run from his chair to the street if his parents turned on him and guessed that –  

Well. He wasn’t sure what they would guess about him. That he had slept with a man? That he had liked it? That now he was wondering what it meant? That he might not be able to give them the grandchildren they so desperately wanted? That he didn’t know who he was anymore? That he was realising he had spent years pretending to be a person, that he was just now figuring out that he had no idea who he actually was? That he had been ruined by a man with blue eyes and soft brown curls and Shane didn’t want to be anything other than Ilya’s?  

That there was only one place in the world he wanted to be, one person he wanted to be with, and it wasn’t here.  

“I wanted to give you this,” Yuna said, handing him a jewellery box.  

Shane looked between his parents, unsure of what to do. He reached for it slowly, opening it and freezing when he saw his mother’s engagement ring inside.  

He felt sick. He could feel bile rising up in his throat as he shut the box and put it back in the centre of the table, catching sight of his mother’s confused frown. Shane glanced at his father, seeing his more measured, unsurprised face.  

“Why?” Shane asked.  

Yuna looked lost. “You’ve been with Rose for a while. You guys live together. This is the next step.”  

Shane felt hot. He was sure he was sweating, that the blood had drained completely from his body. The urge to throw up was overwhelming.  

He'd somehow played the role of Shane Hollander a little too well. It felt like the cruelest joke anyone had ever played on him.  

“This is the next step,” he repeated flatly.  

“Have you and Rose talked about the future?” David asked, his voice calm and low.  

Shane grit his teeth, looking down at the menu. “I mean, I don’t know.”  

The silence was thick. Shane refused to look up.  

They hadn’t really talked about the future. Rose had brought it up when the conversation about them living together had taken place, making it clear that their relationship was serious and important for them to live together, and Shane had agreed, but he hadn’t considered that marriage would be the next step.  

Shane bit down on the inside of his lip harshly, desperately trying to feel something other than the sickening fear and shame spreading through his veins.  

He stayed silent as the waiter came back with their drinks, taking their orders with a bright smile. Shane ordered the first salad he saw on the menu, resolutely avoiding looking at the blue velvet box in the middle of the table.  

“How’s work?” David asked, breaking the strange silence at the table.  

“Good,” Shane breathed, relieved to be onto a topic that he could talk about without fear of vomiting out of panic and stress. He talked about his work at length, not realising his mother hadn’t said a word until their food came.  

“So, where is Rose?” Yuna asked, mixing her risotto around.  

“New York,” Shane said. “She had to fly out last night.”  

“Where’s she staying?” David asked.  

Shane had no idea. He hadn’t asked Rose any questions. He hadn’t even spoken to her today. He'd woken up in someone else's bed.  

“Um, not sure,” Shane admitted. “We’re gonna talk later tonight,” he said, resolving to follow through on it once he got home.  

He didn’t say anything else, so his parents dropped it, changing the subject to something that his cousin that he hadn’t spoken to in nearly a year was up to. He made it through dinner in peace, grateful when the cheque came, playfully fighting his father over paying and eventually acquiescing.  

“We’ll be back in Montreal in about a month, if you don’t come home before that we’ll see you then?” David asked.  

“Of course,” Shane said, smiling. They stood, getting ready to leave when Yuna cleared her throat.  

“Shane,” she said pointedly.  

Shane frowned, confused as he patted down his pockets, mentally checking off his phone and keys. Yuna nodded to the velvet box still in the centre of the table.  

He'd already forgotten about it.  

Shane reached for it, his hand feeling disconnected from his body as he grabbed it. He shoved it in his pocket, doing everything in his power not to throw up.  

>>>  

He stared at the box on the coffee table, sitting on the couch, staring it down like he could make it spontaneously combust.  

Shane wasn’t going to use the ring.  

He knew he should. It was what his parents wanted. Rose probably wanted it, too. They all expected it of him. Two weeks ago, Shane would have expected it from himself, too.  

Shane Hollander, proposing to Rose Landry. Shane Hollander and his wife, Rose Hollander. Rose Hollander-Landry. He didn’t fucking know, but it sounded wrong.  

He tried to imagine a life with Rose that his parents had always envisioned for him. A wife, a house. A white picket fence, probably. Maybe some kids. Two, probably three. Rose was one of four, she would want at least three. She had made some comments about wanting a big family before. Shane hadn’t really been listening, he realised now.  

He took a deep breath, resting his head in his hands and trying to think about what he should do.  

Shane knew what he should do. He should distance himself from the hockey team, probably quit and fade out from that friendship group. He should throw himself into his relationship with Rose, like he had promised himself.  

He should propose to her. He should love her the way she deserves to be loved, he should marry her, and he should buy her a house, and he should have babies with her.  

Shane bit his lip, chewing roughly, desperate to taste that coppery taste again.  

He reached for his phone and dialled her number, determined to fulfill at least one promise he had made today. Shane shut his eyes, waiting as the dial tone rang out.  

“Hi,” Rose answered, her sweet voice trilling through the phone.  

“Hi,” Shane breathed. He was sick with guilt as he asked her how work was.  

“Honestly, I just can’t wait to be back home with you,” Rose said wistfully.  

“When are you home?” he asked, his stomach roiling.  

“Probably Tuesday,” she sighed. “I think we have to get her into rehab.”  

“And to think, that could have been you if you’d gone to that audition in high school,” Shane teased.  

Rose laughed before she made a soft noise. “You know, I'm alone in my hotel room. I wish you were here.”  

Shane tensed. “Oh?” 

“Are you alone?”  

Shane nodded before he realised she couldn’t see him. “Yeah. Yes."  

“What are you wearing?”  

He laughed awkwardly. “Um, a blue shirt and jeans. I just got back from dinner with my parents.”  

“Oh! Shit, I'm sorry I had to miss that,” Rose said, her voice switching from sultry to bright. “How are they?”  

“Good,” Shane said. “They missed you.”  

“I miss them,” she said. “We should go see them in a couple weeks.”  

Shane hummed noncommittally. He knew if he showed up at his parents house with Rose after tonight’s dinner, they’d be expecting to see his mother’s engagement ring on Rose’s finger.  

The image alone made him feel sick and wrong. He couldn’t even follow through on imagining getting down on one knee and asking her to marry him.  

“Hey, I gotta go,” Shane said. Rose said goodbye as Shane stared at the blue velvet box, his stomach not even feeling like it was in his own body anymore.  

He stood up abruptly, grabbing the box and stalking to his bedroom, opening the bottom drawer of his dresser and shoving it down the back corner beneath sweaters he hadn’t even looked at since he moved into the apartment four years ago.  

The apartment that he had rented because it was clean and quiet and close to work. The apartment that Rose had moved into and made her home.  

The apartment that Shane couldn’t bear to be in for a second longer.  

>>>  

He should have called.  

Shane knocked on the door, conscious too late of the neighbours that he might be disturbing –  

Ilya answered the door. “Shane, what –”  

Shane launched forward, kissing Ilya frantically. Ilya kissed him back without any hesitation, grabbing his hips and pulling him inside his apartment. Relief coursed through Shane, followed swiftly by arousal, as he reached underneath the hem of Ilya’s shirt and ran his hands over his stomach.  

He swallowed Ilya’s soft noises, pulling away only to yank Ilya’s shirt off over his head.  

“You weren’t even away twelve hours,” Ilya murmured, grabbing Shane’s face and biting harshly at his lip.  

Shane whimpered. He whimpered as Ilya chewed on his lip, his knees buckling.  

He was pathetic. He had promised himself hours ago that he was going to stay away from Ilya, and here he was, only hours later, shoving Ilya against the nearest wall and sinking to his knees, pulling Ilya’s shorts and underwear halfway down his thighs and wrapping his lips around his cock.  

Ilya moaned above him, muttering something about Shane being needy, something about missing his freckles. Shane flushed red, feeling embarrassed by how pathetic he was, wanting to hear him make fun of him more. Of how needy he was, how much he couldn’t stay away from Ilya. How easy it was to betray Rose like this, doing things for Ilya that he would have never even dreamed of doing for Rose.  

Shane swallowed Ilya down as far as he could, pleased to see that his nose was pretty close to his pelvis. He closed his eyes as he sucked, his own cock hard and throbbing in his underwear at the filthy sounds they were making together.  

He had gone down on Rose a few times, but he had hated it. It didn’t interest him, and he wasn’t good at it. Rose had spared him, saying she was indifferent to oral sex, even though she did it for him semi regularly, but Shane had known that his aversion to it wasn’t normal. 

But this, Shane loved it. He loved taking Ilya down as far as he could, so far he couldn’t breathe. He loved choking on Ilya, swallowing him down so deep Ilya was literally responsible for his next breath. He loved making Ilya’s knees buckle, feeling him desperately grab onto his hair, making him moan and pant and whisper his name.  

He loved being in control like this – the illusion of it, at least. He loved how little control he really had, totally at Ilya’s mercy. Ilya could cut off his breathing, make him choke and gag whenever he wanted, could push his head down and keep him there, and he wouldn’t be able to push him off. It was too much. It was perfect.  

Shane could feel Ilya’s hand tighten in his hair. He pulled off of him, grabbing the base of his dick and licking the tip, looking up at Ilya.  

“Please, let me,” Shane begged.  

He couldn’t even see the blue in Ilya’s eyes anymore. Shane gasped as Ilya yanked him forward, forcing Shane back onto his cock. Shane licked and sucked greedily, staring up at Ilya, pleased to see him coming undone. His chest was flushed red, his face bright, the curls at his temples frizzy and damp. Shane redoubled his efforts, moaning louder as Ilya dragged him back and forth on his cock, his hand dipping to Ilya’s balls, cupping them gently.  

Ilya groaned loudly as Shane massaged him, hollowing his cheeks as he watched Ilya pant louder, moaning Shane’s name, thrusting into his waiting mouth –  

Shane moaned as Ilya came down his throat, watching Ilya’s face as he tensed under his touch.  

This was the only thing Shane could see himself doing forever.  

He felt tears fall down his cheeks as he swallowed Ilya’s release, barely even aware of Ilya pushing him off his cock and shoving him back. Shane tried to catch his balance, but Ilya joined him on his knees, shoving Shane down onto his back on the carpet and shuffling down his legs, reaching a hand into his pants and jerking him off roughly.  

Shane cried out as Ilya pressed his free hand to his neck, pressing down as he wanked him off hard. Shane writhed beneath him, keeping his hands by his side so he didn’t try to push Ilya off of him in an overstimulated panic.  

“Ilya,” Shane moaned.  

Ilya gripped his cock tighter before he let go of his neck, moving and bending lower to swallow him down. Shane cried out, burying his hands in Ilya’s hair and involuntarily thrusting up into his wet, hot mouth, crying out as his stomach tightened, his balls tensing –  

Shane came with a low groan, pulling Ilya’s hair, crying out when he felt Ilya’s lips wet and soft against the base of his cock, pressing against his abdomen. He tried to catch his breath as Ilya pulled off, tucking his soft cock into his underwear as Ilya kissed his way up Shane’s chest, reaching his mouth and sucking on his lower lip.  

“I didn’t think you’d come back,” Ilya said. His eyes were guarded, closed.  

“Yes you did,” Shane said, still panting.  

Ilya looked at him for a moment before he kissed him sweetly, the taste of them together on his tongue settling something deep inside him. Shane closed his eyes and felt his breath hitch when Ilya’s thumbs came up to gently wipe away the wetness under his eyes, listening to Ilya mutter something about how pretty his freckles looked, covered in his tears.  

>>>  

Shane took a deep breath, doing everything in his power to try to move, but he couldn’t. His body was too heavy, too hot, too lax to move. Not that he wanted to. He wanted to stay right where he was forever.  

He moaned as Ilya thrust deep inside him again, slow and languid, so perfect.  

Ilya had been inside him for so long that Shane couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t connected, when they weren’t sharing a heartbeat. He moaned into the pillow as Ilya somehow held him even tighter from behind, pulling Shane’s back even closer to his chest.  

Shane's ears pricked as Ilya whispered something into his ear, his lips pressing to the back of his neck as he moved, still slow, still sweet. He had no idea what Ilya said – he couldn’t make anything out anymore. Everything was blurry and melting and nothing mattered except for the way he felt as Ilya moved. All he could focus on was the feeling of Ilya, plastered tightly behind him, only his hips moving away only to return back to him, smooth and practised.  

Home, Shane thought distantly.  

Ilya’s hand moved from his chest to his mouth. Shane stuck out his tongue, the most he could move right now, licking Ilya’s palm and moaning when Ilya stroked his cock, even slower than his thrusts inside him.  

If heaven was real, he was sure he was there. He had never in his life felt so right. Ilya was inside him, wrapped around him, kissing him, whispering to him. His curls were brushing the side of Shane’s face. All Shane could smell was their sex, thick and rich between them, blanketing the room like a fog. 

It was perfect. They were perfect.  

Shane wrapped his hand around Ilya’s wrist, just to touch him. The world came back to him just a little, unblurring slightly, the rustle of the sheets audible to him now, just enough for him to hear Ilya moan his name directly into his ear.  

His stomach clenched, his cock twitching in Ilya’s grip as another orgasm began to build.  

Shane had lost count of how many times Ilya had made him come since that first one on the floor by the front door hours ago. His body was spent, his cock dry, but Ilya kept fucking him, kept pushing him beyond limits he didn’t even know existed.  

He loved it. Maybe it should have been terrifying, the way Ilya seemed to know Shane better than he knew himself, how connected they were without having really spoken to each other, but he wasn’t scared.  

It felt cosmic. It felt like some force much bigger than the two of them had meant for this to happen all along.  

“Ilya,” Shane breathed, his leg kicking out as his orgasm began to build. Ilya wrapped his leg over his, his sweaty thigh pinning him down, holding him somehow even closer.  

He keened as Ilya wrapped his free hand around his neck, squeezing hard enough to give him pause. Ilya twisted his wrist and squeezed the head of his cock at the exact same time as he thrust hard inside him, and Shane yelled out, coming.  

It was dry, he was sure. His orgasm lasted for so long it gave Ilya time to let go of him and fuck him faster, coming deep inside of him, spilling hot and wet and thick as Shane cried out for him, reaching behind him to just feel him.  

Shane didn’t feel when Ilya stopped moving. He didn’t feel his own orgasm finally ebb. He was just consumed by Ilya’s heat, his warm, sun kissed skin against his own, smooth and soft.  

Ilya murmured something into his ear that Shane couldn’t quite make out. Whether it was in English or Russian, he’d never know. He made a questioning sound as Ilya grabbed his chin and turned his head, shaking him slightly. Distantly, he could feel Ilya’s hips pulse against him, his cock hard inside him again.  

“Shane.”  

He sounded so far away. Shane knew that couldn’t be right; Ilya’s hands were on him. He was inside him. He couldn’t be far.  

“Shane,” Ilya demanded, tapping his face gently. Or slapping, maybe. Shane wasn’t sure; he couldn’t really feel it.  

He forced his eyes open at his tone. Shane wanted to look at Ilya more than anything.  

His breath caught at the sight of him; Ilya was completely debauched. His hair looked like he had been electrocuted. The veins in his temples and neck were bulging, his skin red and flushed more than Shane had ever seen, even out on the ice or at the gym. His eyes were wet and glassy, black and needy. His lips were swollen and red. He looked so beautiful, Shane prayed he would remember this moment with perfect clarity forever.  

Shane wondered if he had ruined him. He hoped so, as selfish as it was. Shane didn’t want to be the only one ruined from this.  

Just looking at Ilya, just thinking about how this was unlike anything Shane had ever experienced before, was enough to make him come. It must have been enough for Ilya, too, because he followed Shane over the edge again, barely moving his hips, not once letting go of his face, not once breaking their eye contact.  

Shane had never come just from staring into someone’s eyes before.  

He panted as Ilya released him, both of them resting as they settled back into the spooning position, Ilya’s cock still twitching inside him.  

“What the fuck,” Shane mumbled.  

Ilya rested his chin in the curve of his neck, his frizzy curls tickling Shane’s ear.  

“I don’t know,” Ilya mumbled back, his voice still sounding a little faraway, his accent thicker through the haze of sex and need. “I don’t feel like this before.”  

Shane nodded. “Me either.”  

He shuffled a little, just enough that he could turn and see Ilya’s face. The angle was awkward, but he needed to just look at him.  

What the fuck am I gonna do? Shane wondered as he stared at Ilya, knowing that leaving would be even harder this time.  

Ilya must have sensed it. He pulled out of Shane slowly, completely unconcerned by the mess on his sheets as he climbed over Shane and kissed him slow. Shane kissed back, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s back, caressing every inch of sweaty, freckled skin.  

When Ilya sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and bit down, and Shane cried out, it wasn’t from pain.  

>>>  

Shane ached.  

It was ridiculous. He shouldn’t be aching. But his entire body felt like it was sunburned, or had pins and needles or something else that was wrong.  

Rose had gotten back on Monday afternoon. Shane had hoped for another night with Ilya, but hearing Rose’s key in the front door had essentially killed any hope of that. Now, all he thought about was the engagement ring burning a hole through his stomach and his old sweaters. Now, all he could think about was the sort of life his parents were expecting him to live.  

“We could drive up this weekend?” Rose was saying.  

“Hm?” Shane asked, barely able to make himself listen to her.  

“Your parents,” Rose said. “We could drive up and see them this weekend. I miss them. Maybe after your game on Saturday morning?”  

“No,” Shane said. He didn’t want Rose and his mother near each other for the foreseeable future. “Um, we can’t. Hayden and Jackie are having a party for Ruby and Jade on Saturday afternoon.”  

“Oh, shit,” Rose clicked her fingers. “We gotta go buy presents. Do you know what they want?”  

Shane looked at her blankly. He hadn’t even though about presents for the girls.  

“What do kids like?” he asked Rose.  

She shrugged. “I don’t know, my brothers all have boys. I'll just message Jack.”  

“Okay,” Shane nodded, turning back to his computer and entering his receipts into his spreadsheet from the weekend.  

He liked budget tracking. He didn’t spend a huge about of money typically, but he loved spreadsheets. And it gave him a sick thrill to enter in a fuel receipt from this morning, just knowing that it was from the service station near Ilya’s apartment.  

Shane tried to school his face, already feeling the smile break out on his face at the mere thought of Ilya. Of his touch, of the way he tasted, the way he moaned Shane’s name...  

“She said dolls,” Rose said, cutting into his thoughts.  

Shane shut his computer, crumpling up his receipts and tossing them into the bin by the wall. “That should be easy.”  

“Do you know how many types of dolls they are?”  

“No, I’m a boy,” Shane said.  

“Some boys play with dolls,” Rose said, patting the couch next to her as she flicked through the television channels. “Joey got a doll from one of the girls at school, he loves it.” 

Shane didn’t say anything as he sat next to Rose, trying to smile when she leaned in against him.  

“John thinks he might be gay,” Rose said.  

Shane didn’t move a muscle as he considered that. Was that what gay was? Playing with dolls?  

Shane had never touched a doll in his life, but he’d spent most of the weekend sucking Ilya’s dick and getting fucked. That felt...decidedly not something straight people did.  

Not that Shane was gay. He just liked Ilya.  

“I think he’s just an empath,” Rose smiled. “He’s always making sure the doll isn’t crying. I think he’s just been watching Joanie with the new baby.”  

“That’s cute,” Shane said quietly.  

It was cute. So why did he feel like Rose was staring at him, waiting for him to say something to incriminate himself?  

She wasn’t. Shane glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, but she was just frowning at the television. He wrapped his arm around her and brought her closer to his chest, closing his eyes as he tried to relax into the couch.  

He loved Rose. She was his best friend.  

Ilya was just...someone that made him curious. That made him feel alive. That made him feel like he was on fire.  

Shane couldn’t afford to be on fire anymore.  

>>>  

Hockey hotties  

Hayden [11:16 Saturday]  

Jackie needs numbers for tomorrow guys  

Harrold [11:17 Saturday]  

What’s tomorrow?  

JJ [11:20 Saturday]  

Me and Leish will be there. Need us to bring anything?  

Marleau [11:22 Saturday]  

I’ll be there  

Ilya [11:23 Saturday]  

Me too  

Miitka [11:25 Saturday]  

Depends, does Jackie have any single friends?  

Watts [11:28 Saturday]  

You've run through them all, Miity. Lisa and I will be there  

Shane [11:33 Saturday]  

We'll be there too  

Comeau [11:38 Saturday]  

I'll stop by early but I’ll need to bail, sorry Pikey, Kelly’s sister’s having a birthday dinner  

Hayden [11:52 Saturday]  

Nice to hear, boys! Remember, everyone on their best behaviour, don’t fuck any of my wife’s friends, and no presents for the girls that make a mess or any noise  

Marleau bring your girl  

Marleau [11:56 Saturday]  

You sure?  

Hayden [11:58 Saturday]  

The more the merrier  

Not you Cronin, you aren’t allowed to bring any more girls over until you’re engaged  

JJ [12:24 Saturday]  

Can’t tell a crow not to fly Pikey  

Harrold [13:10 Saturday]  

We’ll be there, Kate asked me to ask you to ask Jack if we need to bring anything  

Hayden [13:14 Saturday]  

Everyone just bring yourselves and your girlfriends  

Comeau [19:42 Saturday]  

My car isn’t starting can anyone swing by on your way to the rink tomorrow and come grab me?  

Shane watched as Hayden offered to collect Comeau, scrolling back through the messages and chewing on his lip.  

He hadn’t mentioned Rose’s name, but he knew that the ‘we’ was hard to miss. Ilya would have seen it. Shane had waited for him to message first, then waited for someone else to message so he didn’t have to see their names together in the chat again.  

He didn’t want to raise any suspicions.  

Shane locked his phone and threw it down on the couch, laying down and shutting his eyes. He let himself think about seeing Ilya tomorrow; about playing hockey with him, about seeing him skate faster than everyone else, almost as fast as Shane. About the way his face lit up when he passed the puck to Shane, and they scored a goal together.  

His mind drifted without him realising. Shane thought about the tanned plains of Ilya’s body. Of the freckles that drew Shane’s attention to his abs, his nipples, his hips. The one on the corner of Ilya’s mouth that Shane had kissed thoroughly the previous weekend. The one on the base of his dick that Shane had spent a considerable amount of time in the early hours of Monday morning trying to suck his way down to.  

Shane squirmed when he realised he was hard. He pressed his hand down to his cock, holding himself loosely. He palmed himself aimlessly, not needing anything more than that, just enjoying the memory of Ilya.  

He jumped out of his skin when he felt Rose climb on top of him.  

“Shit,” Shane breathed, trying to sit up. “Sorry.”  

Rose smiled at him and shook her head, pressing him down and kissing him. “Don’t. It's hot,” she said.  

Shane tried to kiss her back, but his stomach curdled as she ground down on him. He felt strangely territorial in a way he never had before.  

His erection wasn’t for her.  

It was for Ilya.  

Shane sat up, his stomach sinking as Rose fell closer against him, kissing him harder and reaching down to palm his cock. He had no idea how to get out of this. It didn’t feel right, Rose touching him. His body wasn’t for her anymore. It was never for her, really.  

Maybe he could just kiss her for a while. Kissing was nice. Maybe he could go down on her and keep her happy and then he’d pretend he’d come in his pants because she was so sexy and perfect to him.  

Bile bubbled in his stomach at the thought.  

It was harder to pretend now.  

Shane grabbed Rose by the hips, trying to still her. She didn’t completely get the message though, threading her hands through his hair and kissing him. It made Shane’s heart drop to realise that Rose didn’t know him, couldn’t read him the way Ilya could so easily.  

But maybe he’d never really let her.  

“Shane,” Rose whispered into his ear sultrily. “I want you.”  

Shane kissed her in lieu of trying to find something to say. He had always liked kissing. It used to be enough, to kiss and not think about who he was kissing, just enjoying the feeling.  

“Fuck me,” she breathed into the corner of his mouth. “I want you to come inside me tonight.” 

Shane felt his body lock up at the thought of doing that with her. They'd never done that. They had always, always used condoms. She'd swallowed him once or twice at the start, but it wasn’t something they had made a habit of. Rose didn’t like it.  

She didn’t love swallowin the way Shane did. She didn’t love come, she didn’t need it, crave it, the way Shane did.  

Shame flooded him at the barrage of thoughts swirling through his mind. The sickening idea of coming inside Rose, even for Rose, made him feel sick. The memory of Ilya repeatedly coming inside him, Shane crying out that it wasn’t enough, that he needed more, that he wanted it spilling out of him, made him ache down to his bones.  

“Oh,” Rose said softly, trailing her fingers down his length before sitting up on her knees.  

Shane flinched when he realised he was soft, staring down at the coffee table instead of having to face Rose.  

“Shit,” Shane said again, moving back from her. Rose climbed off his lap, her hand brushing his hair off of his face. It wasn’t really long enough to do that, but it felt nice. Gentle.  

Safe.  

“Maybe we should have talked about dirty talk before I tried it,” Rose smiled apologetically. 

Shane shook his head. Normal men with beautiful, smart, kind girlfriends wouldn’t have needed that.  

“No, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He tried to think of an excuse, of anything to save him, but his mind was blank.  

“I um, god, this is stupid,” Rose huffed. “I was talking to Mona at dinner last night and she was telling me how she and her girlfriend are super into dirty talk, and I thought it might be fun. We’ve never done that.”  

“No, we haven’t," Shane agreed, because facts were easier than lies.  

“And, you know, maybe our sex isn’t super adventurous. Which I don’t mind!” Rose rushed to add. “I love you. I just thought that maybe we could spice it up.”  

Shane didn’t move a muscle, still staring at the coffee table.  

“Do you want that?” he asked before he could stop himself.  

“I wanted to feel you bare inside me, yeah,” Rose admitted softly. “I wanted to feel you come inside me. To make me yours. Wanna feel all of you. I've never done it with anyone before.”  

Shane chewed on his lip. Once again, the cut had practically healed over. Only tender little bumps of fresh skin remained.  

“Haven’t you ever thought about how it would feel?” she asked breathily.  

Shane screwed his eyes shut.  

I don’t have to.  

“I don’t think I’m ready for us to do that,” he said instead. He dared to look over at Rose, who looked disappointed but nodded. “I’m sorry.”  

At least he meant that.  

Rose nodded, turning to look out the window. Shane waited, knowing she had more to say and was just trying to find the kindest way to say it.  

“Shane, am I doing something wrong?”  

Shane frowned, genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”  

“Like,” Rose shuffled, uncomfortable. Shane wanted to hold her, to comfort her, but he didn’t know how to fix whatever was wrong with him, let alone her. “I just feel like sometimes I’m not doing the whole girlfriend thing right.”  

He shook his head, closing his eyes to prevent the sting of tears from building. “Rose, you’re perfect,” Shane said honestly.  

He had no idea what else to say. They sat in silence for a moment before he reached for her, pulling her into his side and holding her there. Rose tucked her legs up over his lap and burrowed in, her head resting against his shoulder.  

Shane could feel the wet patch on his shirt growing as Rose took long, steady breaths. He vowed to never make her feel like this again.  

It wasn’t something he had to try and withstand anymore. He really had to let go of Ilya.  

>>>  

Shane smiled and gave Jackie a big hug, switching with Rose and giving Hayden a hug, as if he hadn’t seen him earlier that day at their game. The game that they had lost, since Ilya and Hayden had both had to skip it. Hayden to plan his party, and Ilya to help Svetlana with something, apparently. Marleau had just shrugged his shoulders and said they had plans, but he’d be at Hayden’s for the kids’ birthdays. Shane had shrugged back as if it didn’t matter. As if he didn’t miss him.  

“How’s it going?” Shane asked, following Hayden into the backyard with the two big boxes he had gift wrapped earlier while Rose followed Jackie into the house.  

“Fucking nightmare, dude,” Hayden complained, pointing to the table for Shane to drop his gifts. “Jacks has had a headache all morning, Amber’s sniffly, and I caught Marleau and his missus about to mount each other in Jade’s room about twenty minutes ago.”  

Shane huffed out a laugh. “Jesus.”  

“Fucking at a kid’s birthday party, fucking perverts,” Hayden said. “Wanna help with the grill?”  

Shane nodded, following him over to where Hayden’s brother, Miitka and Watts were standing around with beers. He greeted them, surprised to find a ginger ale being shoved into his hand. He thanked JJ when he realised he had joined and brought one for him, doing his best to fade into the noise and listen to the boys talk.  

He surveyed the backyard, smiling when he saw Ruby and Jade running around shrieking with all their cousins and school friends. He faltered when he saw Ilya and Svetlana leaning against the back fence, deep in conversation and gesturing with their hands. Ilya was frowning.  

Shane wondered what it sounded like, Ilya speaking Russian. He'd only ever really heard him speak it in broken whispers and moans, illegible and messy, words he would never understand or remember pressed into his skin by wet, red lips.  

He came back to himself when Rose tucked herself into his side, smiling at the boys and ribbing them for their loss. JJ was quick to jump in and argue playfully with her, and Rose was even quicker to call him out on his excuses.  

His friends loved Rose. Shane remembered bringing her to a game for the first time, how loud and supportive she’d been while he was on the ice, and to lunch afterwards with the team and their wives, and how easily she had fit in. She was smart and tough and wily and so kind. Hayden and Marleau had both pulled him aside and told him that Rose was a catch, and if Shane didn’t lock her down quick, he’d be making a huge mistake.  

Shane had taken it seriously. The boys he had grown up with were lewd when it came to girls; dismissive, gauche. But the friends he had made in his adulthood hadn’t been that way. Sure, they would comment on a beautiful woman, but their compliments about Rose had been about how she had lit up around Shane, and how Shane seemed to come out of his shell around her. How they were funny together. How they seemed to fit. How much they liked each other, and how it made them happy to see him happy.  

Shane had taken all their words to heart. His friends were honest – he knew they were right. 

They were more honest than Shane had been with Rose.  

He felt his heart pound as he watched Ilya. He looked comfortable today. Shane had only ever seen him in his sweats before and after a game, in his hockey uniform, or in a shirt and jeans at the bar.  

Or naked, save for Shane’s come.  

But today, he looked...beautiful. His curls seemed shaggier than normal – probably because this was the first time Shane had ever seen them completely dry. Ilya was wearing a black quarter zip and light blue jeans with rips at the knees that Shane could tell were from use, not bought that way.  

The familiar feeling of wanting to burrow inside Ilya returned.  

Shane wrapped his arm around Rose tighter, trying to smile a little when she held him closer, resting her head against his shoulder, even though they were standing up. Shane blinked when Ilya locked eyes with him for a long moment before his eyes travelled down to Rose and looked away.  

He felt sick. I didn’t think about hurting anyone. Shane's own words rang through his ears as he watched Ilya scull his beer and reach for another one.  

It's like I was blind and you were the only thing I could see clearly.  

Shane bit at his lip, mourning the cut that had sealed over a couple of days ago, as he tried to focus on Rose.  

>>>  

Kids were fucking loud.  

The noise was getting to Shane’s head. He was sat off to the side at one of the tables with Rose, Comeau, JJ, Watts and his wife, watching Hayden and Ilya play tag with the kids.  

“But when we have kids, I don’t know, maybe we’ll move to something bigger like this,” Lisa was saying.  

“You have a three bedroom,” JJ said.  

“Yeah, but once we start having kids, we’ll need more room,” Watts said.  

“You gonna have a hockey team like Hayden?” Shane joked.  

“Oh shut up,” Lisa laughed. “What about you two?” she said, gesturing between him and Rose. “When are you two gonna bite the bullet and get married already?”  

Shane felt all the blood drain from his body as he tried to think of a response. He could feel Rose go similarly rigid beside him before she broke out into an easy laugh.  

“Oh god, I think I have my hands full enough with the actors I babysit, that feels like having seventeen kids!” Rose joked. “Maybe down the line.”  

Shane tried not to let out a relieved sigh, briefly catching sight of JJ looking curiously at him before Hayden came up to the table and clapped Shane on the shoulder.  

“Hey, can you do me a favour and get some towels from one of the kids rooms? Or some picnic blankets? I don’t know, the kids spilled on the big one,” Hayden said.  

“Which room?” Shane asked, standing.  

“I don’t know, sorry, just check?” Hayden asked, running off.  

Shane rolled his eyes and made his way inside up to the second level where all the bedrooms were. He came up empty in Jade’s room, making his way into Arthur’s room. He stopped at the sound of footsteps behind him, going still when he saw Ilya.  

Shane’s skin tingled as they stared at each other. Ilya was flushed, pink cheeked and bright eyed from running around with the kids. Shane wondered if he looked as sallow and tired as he felt.  

“You check in here?” Ilya asked, grabbing his wrist and shoving him inside Arthur’s room, shutting the door and shoving Shane against it to keep it shut.  

Shane went easily. He always did.  

Whatever he was going to say died in his throat as Ilya pushed up against him and kissed him. Shane kissed back hungrily, desperate.  

Rose was outside. All their friends were outside. All that separated them was a huge window that looked out into the backyard and a thin, gauzy curtain.  

“Rose is very nice,” Ilya murmured in Shane’s ear.  

Her name felt so wrong coming out of his mouth. Shane had never even said her name to Ilya, not even around him, and now Ilya was the one reminding him of reality when they should be kissing instead? It was wrong.  

Shane grabbed Ilya by the neck and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. He didn’t ever want to hear Ilya talk about Rose ever again.  

“Don’t say her name,” Shane whispered, reaching for the zipper of Ilya’s jeans and pulling them down. He was gratified to feel Ilya’s cock harden and his breath hitch as he stroked him, biting his lip as Ilya became fully hard with his touch.  

Ilya nodded, kissing Shane so hard his head knocked against the door. Shane couldn’t control his soft moan as Ilya reached into Shane’s jeans, both of them jerking each other. Their kisses turned messy, lips trying to touch as they gasped against each other, rutting into each other’s hands.  

Shane blinked when Ilya stopped, yanking Shane’s jeans and underwear down to mid thigh. He frowned until Ilya grabbed hold of both of their cocks, jerking them both off together in his huge hands. If someone was at the right angle in the backyard, in the right spot, they could look up into the room and see Shane being ravaged by Ilya. The thought made Shane lean down onto Ilya’s shoulder, biting down to stop himself from moaning loudly. He thrust into Ilya’s warm hand, whimpering as his stomach flipped –  

He gasped as he came, holding tightly onto Ilya as he came with him, stripping their cocks desperately as they spilled –  

Shit. All over his lower belly.  

He moved to grab something to wipe off with, but Ilya grabbed his wrist with his free hand and stopped him.  

“No,” he said lowly. Ilya wiped himself off against Shane’s lower abdomen before he reached for his boxer briefs, tucking Shane’s dick back in and pulling them up.  

Shane squirmed; he was wet and uncomfortable. It was worse than coming in his pants, both of their releases painted against him. Shane opened his mouth to protest, but one hard look from Ilya shut him up. He was silent as Ilya redressed him, buttoning his jeans and fixing his sweater before he turned to the mirror over the dresser and tried to make himself look presentable.  

Shane was still, unsure of what to do. He should have been annoyed or grossed out. He should have been offended that Ilya had essentially pissed on him, marking his territory, but it felt kind of incredible to be marked like this. To be claimed.  

He should have felt offended at how easily Ilya knew Shane would fall into his arms, into his touch. He should have felt disgusted at knowing Rose was only metres away, waiting for Shane, and that Shane had just brazenly cheated on her in full view of all their friends.  

“Okay,” Ilya said tersely. “Now you can go back.”  

To her sat heavy in the air between them.  

Shane frowned as he peeled himself away from the door, cringing as he moved towards the closet, his underwear wet, come pooling down the base of his cock. He breathed a sigh of relief at a stack of blankets on the top shelf, grabbing them and opening the door, heading back downstairs without another look at Ilya. He joined Hayden outside with a terse smile, helping him pack up the ruined picnic blanket and lay down the new ones for the kids.  

He almost forgot the state of himself until he sat back down with Rose and his friends, his cock sticky and soft and resting uncomfortably between his legs. Shane flinched when he saw Ilya already at the other end of the table, watching him as he drank his beer. Shane held his eye for just a moment as he squirmed, obvious only to Ilya why he was squirming. Ilya's eyes narrowed slightly as he put the bottle down and licked his lips before he smiled at JJ next to him.  

Shane tried not to curl in on himself when Rose leaned against him, her arm pressed to his. 

>>>  

Shane smirked as he landed a jab on JJ’s side, hearing Hayden holler in support.  

“Not fair, Hollander,” JJ said.  

“Why do you guys keep showing up to the gym hungover?” Shane asked. “And why did you get drunk at a children’s birthday party?”  

Hayden laughed as JJ moved in the ring, sizing Shane up. Shane kept his body relaxed, knowing that with the way he was bracing himself, he would see JJ about to move from a mile away.  

“Not hungover,” JJ grumbled.  

“Drinking is the only way to get through a child’s birthday party,” Hayden laughed.  

“I'm not hungover, just tired from running around with the kids,” JJ lied. “I have to rest.”  

"Yeah, tired,” Shane laughed.  

“Ugh, whatever,” JJ said, throwing his arms down and looking petulant. “I want pancakes.” 

Hayden looked at Shane, who nodded.  

“Let’s get lunch,” Shane offered magnanimously.  

He tried not to smile as they sat down at a booth in a cafe down the road ten minutes later, JJ practically melting into the seat, his sunglasses on.  

“I’m starting to think our friends have a drinking problem,” Hayden stage whispered to Shane.  

“Nope, Hollander was drunk as fuck last weekend too,” JJ said.  

“I had a few drinks for the first time since uni,” Shane defended.  

“Marleau said you were wasted,” JJ sing songed.  

“Marleau tried to cuddle with me in the back of the cab, so consider your source,” Shane said dryly.  

They ordered their breakfasts, Shane an acai bowl, Hayden bacon and eggs, and JJ pancakes. They were settled and eating when Hayden leaned forward eagerly after scanning the room.  

Shane knew that look.  

Hayden had gossip.  

“Guess what Jackie overheard on the baby monitor at the party yesterday,” Hayden whispered.  

“Oh god, not Marleau and Svetlana,’ JJ guessed.  

“No,” Hayden said, looking gleeful. “I shut that down fast, and they were on their best behaviour for the rest of the day. No, Rozanov.”  

Shane could have sworn the entire world turned grey and dark. He couldn’t even blink, staring frozen at Hayden.  

“What?”  

“Okay, so Jackie was breastfeeding the baby in our room, and Arthur’s baby monitor went off,” Hayden said. “She heard some, like noises, moans or something, and then she heard Rozanov tell someone to go back outside.”  

Shane put his fork down, desperately trying to take a deep breath before he threw up all over the table.  

“Wait, he didn’t come with anyone,” JJ said.  

Hayden shook his head. “No. So he must have met someone, right?”  

Shane didn’t say a word, trying to find a way out of this. But his brain was frozen over and his blood was cold and all he wanted to do was run and run and run until he was in a different province.  

That's what he should do. He should leave. Run away from everyone; his parents, his friends, his Rose. Shane could leave and start over fresh where nobody knew him and he couldn’t disappoint anyone.  

I wonder if Ilya would come with me, his traitorous brain supplied.  

“You don’t know who it was?” tumbled out of Shane’s mouth.  

“No,” Hayden said dejectedly. “Jackie didn’t really hear anything, they were whispering. She just heard him say no with the accent and knew it was him.”  

“Oh my god,” JJ said, looking at Shane. “I know who it was.”  

Shane braced himself, grabbing the bottom of his seat, ready to launch himself out of the booth –  

“Rozanov disappeared with Svetlana for a while,” JJ whispered. “Do you think – the two of them – behind Marleau’s back?”  

Hayden wrinkled his nose. “You think Rozanov would hook up with someone in a relationship?”  

Shane was going to vomit. Bile was rising in his throat at the turn in conversation.  

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” Hayden dismissed. “They were talking for a while, but otherwise the two of them were with Marleau the whole time. Marleau said Rozanov and Svetlana were a thing when they were younger, but that was like, a teenage thing.”  

Shane tried to process that as they kept talking, his mind running a million miles an hour about Ilya and Svetlana’s relationship.  

“So, who do you think it was?” JJ asked.  

“I don’t know,” Hayden shrugged. “Jacks has so many single cousins, it honestly could have been any one of them.”  

“Well fuck me,” JJ said. “Hooking up at a kid’s party. The man’s got moves.”  

Shane pretended his phone was buzzing, standing from the booth and pulling it out of his pocket.  

“Shit, it’s my mom, give me a minute?” he tried to smile as JJ and Hayden nodded and kept talking.  

He walked off, heading straight to the bathrooms, checking that it was empty before he got on his knees and threw up everything he had just eaten.  

>>>  

The rest of the morning was a blur. Shane didn’t even remember getting home, ambling into the apartment, sweaty and sick. Rose was out for the afternoon, for which he was grateful.  

Shane rushed to the shower, stripping and frantically climbing under the spray before he thought of something. He climbed out hurriedly, tipping the dirty clothes hamper upside down and digging out his come stained underwear from the day before, pressing his nose to them.  

It still smelled like him and Ilya.  

Shane wrapped it around his erection, unsure of when he had gotten hard, and began to wank himself off. The material was rough, dry, but just knowing their releases were together on the material was enough to get him off. Shane cried out as he came, Ilya’s name threatening to pass his lips.  

He looked down, ashamed of what he had done. He showered quickly before drying off and throwing everything in the wash, disgusted with himself.  

Shane couldn’t keep doing this. Whatever there was between him and Ilya, it was dangerous. It was changing, growing, threatening to eclipse everything and consume him. Threatening to blow up everything Shane had worked for. Worked to be.  

He thought about the engagement ring in his dresser drawer. He thought about how much his parents loved Rose. He thought about how much his friends loved her, with their inside jokes and winks to Shane like she was perfect for him. He thought about how Rose had spent the entire party yesterday holding babies and playing with the kids, smiling happier than Shane had ever seen her. He thought about how Rose had kissed him softly in bed last night and said that Hayden and Jackie’s life was perfect, and she wanted that one day.  

He thought about how what he wanted would hurt everyone, and how he couldn’t do that. He thought about how it was better to limit the hurt to just him and Ilya. How their happiness wasn’t worth all of this pain.  

Shane couldn’t let himself be consumed by Ilya.  

He'd never be able to recover.  

Chapter 4: Proliferation

He moaned loudly, gasping for air as Ilya sank down to his knees, pushing his shirt up his chest. Shane yanked it off over his head, dropping it to the floor as Ilya pulled his pants halfway down his thighs and –  

The slurping sound he made as he sucked Shane into his mouth was utterly fucking feral. Shane nearly came just hearing him.  

“Oh my god,” Shane moaned, threading his hand through Ilya’s hair and experimentally pushing his head closer to him, sinking into the armchair.  

Ilya looked up at him with desperate, dark blue eyes, reaching up to Shane’s hand and –  

Shane gasped as Ilya used his hand to push himself further down onto Shane’s cock, his lips pressing against his pelvis.  

“How the fuck are you doing that,” Shane muttered as Ilya bobbed his head, moaning loudly as he swallowed Shane down.  

This was a mistake. Shane had come here to tell Ilya that they couldn’t see each other anymore. He had come here to tell him that he was planning on quitting the team, that he was going to step back from his friendship with his friends and that he was committed to Rose. That he was going to propose to her and start his life with her, for real.  

Instead, he was spilling into Ilya’s mouth, yet again.  

“Jesus Christ, oh my fuck, Ilya,” Shane moaned, pulling Ilya off of him by the hair. Ilya stood quickly, kissing Shane messily before he bit at his lip. Shane made a noise before he shoved Ilya off of him, pushing him away and standing up.  

Ilya looked confused until Shane pulled at his shorts, pushing them down and shoving him to sit on the bed. Ilya smirked as Shane fell to his knees between his open legs, licking the tip of his cock sweetly before taking him in deep.  

Ilya laid back against the bed, resting on his elbows and looking down as Shane sucked him off, looking like some sort of king being serviced as he watched Shane intently. He petted his hair like he was a dog, telling him how pretty he was, how good he was, how perfect his mouth was, how well he took him.  

Shane moaned, reaching a hand down to himself and palming his semi hard cock as he sucked and licked at him. Ilya moaned when he realised what he was doing, thrusting shallowly up into Shane’s mouth and telling him how perfect he was, how much he thought about him, about this, how much he needed his lips wrapped around him –  

Ilya came with a loud moan as Shane swallowed his release, his own cock spurting again as Ilya flooded his tastebuds.  

“My god,” Ilya muttered as he helped Shane off his dick, sighing as Shane rested his head against Ilya’s thigh, his eyes closed and his hands sticky. “Shane.”  

Shane hummed, unable to move. He was warm and everything was bright and lovely. Even their sex smelled sweet; Ilya’s apartment always smelled so sweet. So much like the two of them.  

“Shane,” Ilya called again, his hands running down his chest. Shane huffed out a soft laugh as Ilya grabbed his pecs, groping them like they were breasts. “Can you look at me?”  

Shane forced his eyes open for Ilya, smiling at how wrecked he looked. His lips were red and swollen, and his hair was sticking out in every direction. He looked so beautiful it brought tears to Shane’s eyes.  

He couldn’t have him.  

“Shane,” Ilya said, reaching for him and pulling him up to sit on the bed with him.  

He shook his head, unable to look at Ilya.  

“I have to stop coming here,” Shane whispered.  

“Nol,” Ilya said simply, grabbing his face. “You should stop leaving.”  

“I can’t keep doing this,” Shane said, looking away from Ilya. He couldn’t deliver such terrible news while looking at something so beautiful. “You keep ruining me. I keep letting you.”  

“I’m not ruining you,” Ilya murmured, moving to climb over Shane. Shane shook his head as Ilya pushed him to lie down, covering Shane’s body with his own.  

He moaned softly as Ilya kissed him sweetly, his thumb caressing Shane’s face.  

“Moy dorogoy,” Ilya whispered. Shane so badly wished to know what that meant. “I cannot ruin you. You are perfect.”  

Shane shook his head as he looked away.  

“Let me,” Ilya whispered before he kissed him again.  

Shane kissed him back hungrily. He had no idea what Ilya wanted, but he let Ilya pull him up and undress him, pressing soft kisses to every inch of him before he pushed him back onto the bed. Ilya crawled over him and stared at him. Shane squirmed beneath him, waiting.  

“How can I show you,” Ilya murmured as his hand roamed Shane’s chest before coming to rest at his neck.  

“I wanna feel you, all of you,” Shane breathed. “Make me yours.”  

Shane didn’t realise how familiar those words were until Ilya was fucking him, slowly and pointedly, kissing him so hard that Shane couldn’t breathe. He didn’t realise he had taken those words from Rose and overwritten them with Ilya, turning a humiliating, painful memory into something he would cherish. He didn’t realise Ilya had bitten down on his lip again, so violently, blood smeared down his own mouth, until Shane could taste himself.  

He didn’t realise until Ilya was spilling inside him that he’d forgotten himself all over again. 

It was too late, Shane realised as Ilya kissed him, bloody and desperate, claiming him.  

“You’re already mine,” Ilya murmured as Shane came for him, clawing at Ilya’s back wildly, deep enough that he was sure he was leaving scratches down his beautiful back, marring his freckles.  

He'd let Ilya consume him.  

The only consolation was that it seemed to be mutual. Like the ouroboros, unable to do anything but consume itself.  

>>>  

Hayden [16:27 Wednesday]  

Hey buddy, Jackie wants to know if you and Rose wanna do dinner Thursday night?  

Hayden [19:42 Wednesday]  

Jackie promises to make your favourite bird food <3  

Hayden [07:14 Thursday]  

All good bro?  

Hayden [15:36 Friday]  

I haven’t heard from you in four days, send a sign of life or Jackie and I are coming over to check on you  

Shane [00:54 Saturday]  

Sorry, been busy with work. I’ll see you at the game later  

Hayden [05:24 Saturday]  

Okay!  

>>>  

Shane leaned against the wall, watching all the guys chatter and strip off their clothes.  

They had won today’s game, and the mood was good. Of course, the stakes were incredibly low, but it was always fun to win.  

Especially against that asshole Dallas Kent. His mean streak was notorious. Shane had caught Ilya shove him a lot harder than necessary when Kent had tried to knock Harrold to the ice for no reason.  

He loved this group of boys. So much. They had changed his life.  

Shane knew he should quit the team. He should excuse himself from the team, quietly bow out of the group, and work on himself. These were good guys, and Shane didn’t fit with them anymore. If he were being honest with himself, maybe he never had.  

None of his friends would cheat on their girlfriends. They were all better than him.  

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Hayden asked.  

Shane nodded, trying to make sure his face was clear. “Yeah. Why?”  

Hayden scratched the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. “You’ve just been kind of awol lately. Been worried about you.”  

“Stuff is ramping up at work, I just haven’t had a spare minute to myself,” Shane half lied. He could feel Ilya’s eyes absolutely burning a hole through him, but he refused to look at him. Shane knew if he caught those blue eyes, he’d fall to his knees for Ilya in the middle of the locker room, surrounded by all his friends, and –  

Well. Anything. Anything Ilya asked him for, he would give him. Shane realised with a start that Ilya had never actually asked him for anything. Not once.  

He knows you won’t be able to give him anything, he told himself. He knows all you’ll be able to do is hurt and disappoint him. So he takes what he can get.  

He deserves better, Shane thought, shame burning through his entire body.  

"I’m sorry,” Shane said honestly, looking at Hayden. “I’ve gotta make more of an effort.”  

Hayden surveyed him carefully. “Everything okay with Rose?”  

Shane knew he flinched, and he knew Hayden saw it. He smiled and shook his head, muttering something about Rose being the perfect girlfriend, thankful when Hayden didn’t push it.  

Hayden clapped him on the shoulder and shrugged. “It’s fine. Just, you know, let us help you if you need it. Promise you’ll ask if it gets too overwhelming.” 

Shane tried to smile, nodding, but he knew that was a promise he couldn’t keep.  

“Okay, fuck this,” Marleau said, stepping into the middle of the room. “My brother cancelled on me tonight, and I need a drink. We're going out tonight, boys.”  

Shane tried to smile as the boys cheered and agreed, already making plans for where to meet tonight. He chanced looking over at Ilya, who was watching him intently, but he didn’t say a word.  

>>>  

Drinking was a mistake.  

Shane felt floaty as he knocked back another shot, grimacing as the boys laughed and fussed over him.  

He never did shots. But Ilya had bought them all a round of vodka shots, and then a second round, and Shane figured that he owed it to the boys to have a real, proper night out, so he did them.  

It was a poor choice, Shane recognised now. With this much alcohol in his system, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ilya.  

Ilya, who was wearing a black button down with material so soft looking Shane yearned to touch it, buttons undone down to his sternum. Ilya, who had lazily pushed his curls back, but had to keep shaking them out of his eyes because they wouldn’t stay where he wanted them to. Ilya, who kept locking eyes with Shane every time he wrapped his lips around the mouth of his bottle, letting his tongue catch any stray drops suggestively.  

Shane knew was he was doing. He was luring Shane to him, like setting a trap.  

And Shane, the dumbest animal alive, was going to walk right into the net. Or the claw thing, and let the teeth get him.  

A laugh bubbled in Shane’s throat. The teeth analogy was fitting for Ilya.  

“What’s so funny?” Hayden asked.  

Shane smiled at Hayden, bleary eyed and so sweet. His best friend. He loved Hayden.  

“I love you too, man,” Hayden said, wrapping his arm around Shane’s shoulders.  

Shit. Shane hadn’t realised he was talking out loud. He had to be careful.  

“Careful of what?” Marleau said from across the table.  

Nothing, nothing, nothing.  

“Nothing,” Shane forced himself to say out loud, taking another sip of his beer and ignoring the stress and fear tugging at his stomach.  

Shane cooled off on the drinks for a little while, nursing his beer while the other boys finished the pitchers, finally drunk enough to dance. Shane stayed at the table with Marleau while the boys all went off, asking the DJ to play ‘team songs’ and arguing over what he should play first.  

“You doing okay, kid?” Marleau asked.  

Shane tried to smile and nod. “Yeah, of course.”  

Marleau looked at him like he didn’t believe him.  

“I mean, yeah,” Shane said. “I’m gonna be fine.”  

“You wanna talk about it?” Marleau offered.  

Shane shook his head, looking out to the dancefloor and going rigid when he saw Ilya at the bar, talking to a man who was standing entirely too close to him. He watched as Ilya smiled brightly, leaning forward to talk into the man’s ear. The man had the audacity to place his hand on Ilya’s forearm, and Ilya –  

He didn’t move away.  

Shane felt sick to his stomach. He felt his teeth ache as he grit them, his skin pulling too tight as he watched the guy nod to the dancefloor. He couldn’t believe his eyes when Ilya followed.  

He forced himself to look back at Marleau, blinking rapidly when he saw Marleau watching him.  

“I don’t envy the cab drivers of Montreal tonight,” Shane said, trying to crack a smile.  

Marleau didn’t say anything as he sat forward, clearing his throat. “What's going on, Hollander?” he asked.  

Shane nodded, chancing a look out to the dancefloor, nausea rising as the guy Ilya leaned in close to talk into his ear, Ilya bending down to make it easier. He looked over at the boys, noticing the way Hayden and JJ were looking over at Ilya, confused, as Ilya danced and laughed with the guy.  

This was what he had wanted to avoid. His friends, looking at him like he was a freak for wanting a man to touch him, too.  

“I’m fine,” Shane said, but even to his own ears, it was faraway. He blinked as Ilya looked his way, his eyes black as he watched Shane watch him.  

Shane looked away, embarrassed being caught staring. He felt hot and sick and pissed off. Marleau opened his mouth to say something, but Hayden and JJ crashed into the table, drunkenly manouvering themselves to sit beside them in the booth. It was a decent distraction from the jealousy flooding his body.  

He had no right to feel jealous. Not when he had a girlfriend waiting for him at home. Not when he had a fucking engagement ring in his apartment waiting to be used.  

“Okay,” JJ whispered, leaning into Marleau’s side. “Are you guys seeing Rozanov and that guy?”  

Shane braced himself as Hayden swayed into him, waiting for something horrible, something homophobic and soul crushing and awful –  

“Our options for sexgate just widened expo-exponsh-lots,” Hayden whispered dramatically.  

Marleau looked confused. “What?”  

“Marleau, oh my god,” Hayden said, leaning across the table and tapping it excitedly. “Rozanov hooked up with someone at the twins’ birthday party.”  

Marleau looked surprised. Shane caught the way he looked over at Ilya, curious. “He did? That’s so weird. Sveta swears up and down that he’s dating someone.”  

“We were stupid,” Hayden dismissed. “We were like, which girl did he hook up with? But JJ and I are straight and we forgot other people can be not straight.”  

“We forgot about the dudes, dudes,” JJ opined.  

He's dating someone. That was what Ilya’s friend thought.  

That Ilya was dating someone.  

Shane couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t open his mouth, because he was sure he would be sick everywhere, and he couldn’t say anything, because if he reminded them that he was at the party, he might be a sexgate suspect, even though he was with Rose. He was with Rose. But...  

He kept his eyes down on his beer, but he could feel Marleau looking at him.  

“You forgot about bisexual people?” Marleau laughed.  

“I knowww,” Hayden whined. “Stupid. Imagine being bisexual and thinking everyone is hot, that’s so cool. But now the party was weeks ago and I can’t even remember who went, let alone who was single. Who would Rozanov find fuckable?”  

Shane stared into his glass. Not a suspect, then.  

“Brunettes, by the looks of it,” JJ said.  

“Imagine being able to fuck anyone,” Hayden said wistfully.  

“The only thing stopping you is you, Pike,” JJ laughed.  

“If anyone in the world was hotter than Jackie, maybe I would wanna,” Hayden smiled.  

He looked over to Ilya, who was now with the rest of the team on the dancefloor, the guy he was dancing with nowhere to be seen. Shane caught Marleau looking at him again, but Shane kept talking to JJ and Hayden, ignoring Marleau.  

>>>  

Shane was sweating.  

He'd been coaxed out onto the dancefloor. He had taken too many shots, and he felt warm and syrupy and happy, and he was desperate to be touched.  

And he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Ilya.  

At some point, Ilya had unbuttoned another button. His chest was visible with every movement, and Shane wanted to... 

Shane wanted.  

He wanted to kiss his way down that chest again. He wanted to lick his nipples, suckle them. He wanted to paint Ilya’s chest with his come, to rip that shirt off of him, to find out what was softer, the shirt or his curls. He wanted to show everyone that Ilya was off limits, that they couldn’t touch him. He wanted to pull him away from Svetlana, to show her that she couldn’t have him anymore. He wanted to claim him.  

Shane wanted.  

He kept dancing, laughing with the boys as they took turns trying ridiculous eighties dance moves, JJ actually attempting the worm. It actually was fun.  

Shane frowned when he felt his phone buzz, pulling it out of his pocket and squinting to read the message.  

Rose [23:15 Saturday]  

How's your night?  

Shane [23:18 Saturday]  

Good. A bit drunk. We're at a club on fifth  

Rose [23:19 Saturday]  

You went dancing without me??  

Shane [23:19 Saturday]  

Soryr  

Rose [23:21 Saturday]  

Well, our Twilight marathon is going very well, thank you for asking  

The honeymoon makes me feel things, I miss you x  

Save me a dance when you get home tonight, deal?  

Shane [00:12 Sunday]  

Dael  

He put his phone away, choosing not to think about having to go home to Rose, when Ilya pressed up against him from behind as everyone watched Watts try to do the worm.  

“I know you can move your hips more than this,” Ilya purred into his ear, pressing his hand against his back.  

Shane stilled and frowned. “I was moving my hips.”  

Ilya's hands came to rest on his hips, dipping under his shirt and pressing on his bare skin. Shane tried not to sway back into him; he was so warm.  

“Not like how you move for me, milyy mal'chik,” Ilya whispered into his ear.  

Shane wasn’t proud of the whimper that left his throat. He was thankful that the music was so loud, making sure nobody but Ilya could hear him.  

“Move your hips like I know you can,” Ilya muttered. Shane let his eyes drift closed as Ilya bit his earlobe, pushing his hips back against Ilya’s, somehow shocked to feel how hard he was.  

“I thought that was just for you?” Shane asked, completely forgetting himself for a moment.  

Ilya moved his hand from Shane’s hip to his abs, and Shane startled. He pulled away, suddenly conscious of all his friends being only feet away. He saw the way Ilya’s face fell when Shane moved too far for him to touch anymore, but Shane just nodded his head to the team. Ilya clenched his jaw, but nodded.  

This was too risky.  

He looked down at his half empty vodka soda, debating finishing it, when Ilya grabbed it from him and downed the rest in one swallow. He looked at Shane as he wiped his lip and nodded from him to follow.  

Shane followed. Of course he followed. Despite all his self talk about walking away from Ilya, he was following him off the dancefloor and into the bathrooms, frowning when Ilya pulled him through a door that led to a side street.  

It was a loading bay, Shane noted. A tiny alleyway that was completely empty, save for stacks of empty boxes by the door, which meant they were visible from the street at the right angle.  

It was too risky. Shane opened his mouth to tell Ilya that, but Ilya was already on him, pressing him against the brick wall and kissing him. Shane moaned into Ilya’s mouth as Ilya pushed his shirt up, reaching for his pants and sinking to his knees.  

Shane keened as Ilya swallowed him down in one motion, looking up at Shane with sad, wet blue eyes. Shane couldn’t bring himself to look away as Ilya hollowed his cheeks, reaching up to grab at his chest, threading his hands through Ilya’s hair, his eyes fluttering at the softness of them.  

He came much too fast, spilling down Ilya’s throat within moments. Ilya pulled off of Shane with a proud smirk before Shane pressed off the wall, shoving Ilya against it and returning the favour.  

“Shane,” Ilya moaned as Shane swallowed him down too fast, forcing Ilya as far down his throat as he could, gagging around his cock. He knew by now how much Ilya loved it when he gagged and choked on his dick. “Fuck.”  

Ilya came just as quick as Shane did, which sent a shiver of pride through him. He pulled Shane up to stand with him, kissing him furiously as they both zipped up their pants. They kissed for a while, sloppy and drunk, before Ilya grabbed him roughly by the neck and held him still, biting down harder than he ever had before on Shane’s lip.  

Shane cried out as his knees buckled, gripping Ilya’s biceps to keep himself upright.  

“Ilya,” he whispered.  

“I know,” Ilya said lowly, sucking on Shane’s lip. Shane moaned as Ilya kissed him, the familiar feeling of Ilya sucking on his lip making his cock twitch. He rolled his hips into Ilya, who responded in kind before he pulled away, taking his phone out of his pocket.  

“We’re leaving,” he read. “Meet the boys out front. You first.”  

Shane nodded, waiting as Ilya fixed him up and wipe his lip before going back the way he came and making his way to the front exit, trying to smile when he saw the boys all drunkenly standing at the curb. Ilya appeared three minutes later, not even having bothered to not look so dishevelled.  

“Damn, Rozanov, you hooked up?” Watts laughed.  

Shane flinched when he saw the state of Ilya’s hair. Why the fuck didn’t he fix that? Shane wondered. As he stepped closer, Shane realised he still had blood on his fucking lip.  

It looked like red lipstick.  

Shane felt heat spread through his body as he desperately tried to keep himself rooted to where he was standing, fearful that his instinct to walk up to Ilya and lick it off his mouth.  

“Yeah,” Ilya smirked. “Sucked me off in the alley behind bar.”  

The boys hollered with laughter, but Shane stayed silent, his cheeks flushing red. He climbed into a cab with JJ, Miity and Harrold, having no idea where the fuck they were going, but hoping it was the last stop.  

>>>  

Shane had no idea who suggested this, but he was annoyed.  

He could have been home by now. he could have showered, washed the sweat off of him, and forgotten all about the back alley blow jobs he and Ilya had shared. He could have broken off with the couple of guys that were smart enough to bail after the club and head home. He could have been in bed with Rose, the picture of the perfect boyfriend who came home at a reasonable hour and didn’t disrespect his girlfriend.  

Instead, he was standing in the entryway of a tattoo parlour while Watts debated the perfect font to get Lisa’s name tattooed over his heart.  

It was sweet, really. It made Shane ache with jealousy, though.  

He hung back as a few of the guys decided to get little tattoos to commemorate the night, Hayden choosing to get a tasteful J tattooed on his wedding ring finger, when a punky looking girl approached him.  

“Hey, hon. You looking to get something done tonight?” she asked.  

Shane glanced over at Ilya, who was bent over looking at the jewellery case. He pointedly ignored the buzzing of his phone in his pocket as he looked at the girl and nodded.  

“Yeah. Um, do you have somewhere we can do it privately though?” Shane asked quietly.  

She nodded and led him through to her station near the back of the shop. Shane was relieved to see that everyone was separated by privacy screens.  

The artist, Nikki, invited him to sit on the chair and asked him what he was thinking. Shane had just enough alcohol to pull out his phone and ask her if she could do him a favour.  

>>>  

It was fucking perfect.  

Shane felt tears in his eyes as he stared at the tattoo through the mirror. It was perfect and permanent and his.  

It had fucking hurt. It had felt so fucking good. Nikki had been curious about it, but she hadn’t asked any intrusive questions. She had called it an unusual request, but said it was one of the sexiest tattoos she had ever done, which had pleased Shane deeply. She said that under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have done it, but that his eyes were too big and brown and sad to say no to, and that she had a soft spot for doe eyes.  

“You gonna go show it off?” Nikki asked, looking at him from behind the mirror.  

“Maybe,” Shane said, knowing exactly who he wanted to show this to. He followed Nikki out to the front where he paid for his tattoo, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Marleau, Ilya and Vaughn who were sitting in the chairs by the door.  

“Hollander, you got a tattoo?” Vaughn asked, clearly surprised.  

“Of course not,” Shane lied, swiping his card.  

He made his way over and sat with them, doing his best to not look at Ilya, even though Shane could feel him staring as if he was trying to see through his clothes and find the mystery tattoo. Shane tried not to preen under the attention, tried not to get hard at Ilya’s unwavering gaze.  

He failed.  

Shane sat in silence as the boys chatted, focused on the sharp sting of the tattoo. It hadn’t hurt as much as he had expected, but the fresh, open wound was still stinging, and it felt so fucking good. Shane wanted to press down on it and make it hurt even more.  

Vaughn smiled next to him, knocking his elbow. “You good?”  

“Yeah,” Shane said, resting his head back against the wall and looking up at the ceiling.  

“You’ve been drinking a lot lately,” Vaughn said. “Well, a lot for you.”  

Shane grit his teeth as he tried to think of a response. Somehow, alcohol makes the guilt go away while I cheat on my girlfriend and have the best sex of my life didn’t seem appropriate to admit to anyone. He was sober enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to convincingly lie himself out of this discussion.  

"I’m just doing what everyone else is doing,” Shane defended.  

Vaughn let it go, but Shane could feel Ilya and Marleau both staring at him. He pointedly ignored them both, staying quiet until Marleau finally broke the silence, talking about some big construction tender he was working on with his company.  

Hayden and Watts were done within half an hour, both of them showing off their new tattoos. Marleau snapped a photo before he rounded everyone up, calling two cabs.  

“Okay, north –” he said, loading Hayden, Vaughn and Watts into one cab, “South,” he said, corralling Ilya and himself into the second cab. “Everybody text when you’re home!”  

Everybody agreed as they climbed in, Marleau giving his address, being the closest. Shane sat in the back with Marleau, listening as Ilya talked to the cab driver about the hockey game he hadn’t watched tonight.  

Shane blinked as Marleau knocked his knee with his own.  

“You good, kid?”  

“Why do you call me kid when I'm only five years younger than you,” Shane complained.  

“Because you act fifteen years younger than me,” Marleau winked.  

“You act fifty years older,” Shane shot back.  

Marleau laughed, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence as the cab left the heart of the city and made its way into the inner suburbs. They were at the front of Svetlana’s apartment building before Shane could blink.  

Marleau seemed to be hesitating. Shane frowned as Marleau smacked Ilya on the shoulder. “You wanna crash as Svetlana’s with me?” he asked.  

Ilya frowned and shook his head. “No. I don’t need to hear you having sex with my Sveta, thank you.”  

Marleau looked sideways at Shane before he smacked Ilya again. “Come on, she said she’ll make those Ruski pancakes for breakfast.”  

Ilya shook his head again as he turned to look at him in the backseat. “You want threesome tonight, Marley? Is that why you push?”  

Marleau scoffed and protested, but Ilya smirked, unbuckling his seatbelt and making a show of getting out of the car.  

“This is different conversation then,” he smiled. “Yes, for this, I’ll come with you tonight.”  

“No threeway, Jesus,” Marleau said.  

Shane stopped listening as his phone buzzed, pulling it out and reading the latest messages.  

Rose [01:57 Sunday]  

Twilight movie marathon with Joanie is over, I’m heading to bed, see you soon <3  

He put his phone away, leaving the message unopened. He looked up when Marleau climbed out of the cab, watching as Marleau leaned in through Ilya’s window and whispered something before waving goodbye to Shane, a frown on his normally relaxed face, and leaving.  

He stayed quiet as Ilya gave his address, watching as Ilya rested his head and shut his eyes, his face angled to the fresh air blowing through the window. Shane watched, aching to be the wind, rustling through Ilya’s curls.  

He came back to himself when the cab stopped. Ilya climbed out of the cab without a word or a look back at him. Shane watched for a moment, confused, as he walked into his apartment building, not bothering to look back at all. He took a deep breath as he reached for his wallet and –  

Shane followed.  

He shook his head when he found Ilya’s front door ajar, clearly waiting for him. Shane would have been angry at how cocky Ilya was, but...he knew Shane better than Shane knew himself by now. Of course he knew he would follow him home. It was...nice, to be known so well by someone. Shane wasn’t sure he’d ever known someone to anticipate him like this before.  

Shane shut the door and stripped off his jacket, hanging it by the door, before he kicked off his shoes and made his way calmly to the bedroom.  

Ilya was waiting for him.  

A thrill ran through him as Shane took him in, sitting naked against his headboard, looking like some sort of king. His hands were resting on his thighs, his cock rock hard against his stomach, twitching as he raised an eyebrow at Shane. He didn’t say a word as Shane undressed for him, dropping his clothes on the armchair before he crawled onto the bed, climbing into Ilya’s lap.  

He hated how right he felt in Ilya’s lap. How much his body felt on edge for days or weeks at a time, only quieting when Shane was here, in Ilya’s room, touching him.  

Ilya hummed as he ran his hands from Shane’s wrists up to his shoulders, down his chest and thighs. Shane sighed at his warm touch, dropping his forehead against Ilya’s. Ilya wrapped his hands around Shane’s waist, caressing his back sweetly.  

Shane was so at peace, he nearly missed the testing tone of Ilya’s voice when he asked, “You get a tattoo tonight?”  

Shane nodded. Ilya looked him over, frowning when he couldn’t see anything.  

“Show me.”  

Shane felt his cock leak against his stomach as he reached for his lip and pulled it down.  

Ilya's mouth actually dropped open as he surged forward, reaching for the light switch by the headboard. Shane flinched as the overhead light came on; it was a lot, to be so brightly illuminated as he sat on Ilya’s lap, totally bare like this. But Ilya didn’t seem to care, his fingers working their way into his mouth as he pulled Shane’s lip further down as he whispered something in Russian, his face incredulous.  

“Fuck, Shane, what the fuck,” he breathed.  

Ilya’s reaction was even better than he had hoped. Shane let out a soft, pleased noise as Ilya’s cock twitched against his, pulsating between their stomachs.  

Nikki had done an amazing job tattooing Ilya’s bite mark on the inside of his lip. He had pulled up the photos of the last bite marks to compare to his fresh bite, and she had tattooed the unbroken skin just to the left of the bite. She told him that she couldn’t tattoo an open wound, and that this was the best she could do.  

Shane had nodded and told her to go for it, and now, he had Ilya’s mark permanently inked on his skin. Forever.  

He'd sat there, holding his lip flipped inside out, while Nikki talked about how he should come to a BDSM club he had never even heard of in the city.  

“Does it hurt?” Ilya asked, looking up into Shane’s eyes, unblinking, as if he was worried if he took his eyes off the tattoo, it would disappear.  

“Not really,” Shane lied. “Stings, a bit. It feels better when you do it.”  

Ilya bit his own lip as he leaned even closer, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to his lip. Shane’s breath hitched, the slight sting shooting down his spine and straight to his dick. He couldn’t help but roll his hips into Ilya’s, whimpering softly as their cocks rubbed against each other. 

“Does it hurt?”  

Shane nodded; he wasn’t sure how to say yes, but not enough, not the right way. He hoped this was one of those things that Ilya just understood about him without him having to say it.  

“Why did you to this to your perfect mouth?” Ilya asked, jerking his hips up slightly.  

He already knew the answer, but Shane would happily debase himself by telling him anyways; he didn’t care how pathetic or needy he sounded. He needed Ilya to know.  

“For you,” Shane admitted. He let the for us remain silent. He didn’t think either of them were ready for that tonight.  

Ilya's eyes softened, which wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. Ilya looked away as he leaned back against the headboard, tipping his head back.  

Shane leaned forward to kiss his neck, from his ear to his collarbone. Ilya’s breath hitched, but Shane could tell that he was lost inside his head. He shuffled lower, crawling down Ilya’s body and pressing wet kisses into his chest, giving Ilya a moment.  

He kept his mouth occupied until Ilya’s hands threaded through his hair, blunt nails scratching down his bare back.  

“You like it?” Shane asked as he kissed Ilya’s left nipple.  

“No, I love it,” Ilya breathed, his fingers tangling through Shane’s hair as he moved lower, lower, down his stomach, kissing freckles along the way. “Feels like a present I don’t deserve.”  

Shane scoffed, settling between Ilya's legs and taking his cock in his mouth, sucking languidly. He looked up, pleased to see Ilya watching him closely. He let himself get lost in the feeling of Ilya inside him, doing his best to coax the soft pants and moans out of him that he loved so much. Ilya’s fingers tightened in his hair after a while, gently pulling him off and guiding him back into his lap.  

“Enough,” he said before he kissed Shane sweetly.  

Ilya reached for the lube, and Shane went to move, but Ilya grabbed his wrist, forcing him to settle back on his lap, Shane’s knees bent by Ilya’s thighs.  

It was a little awkward, Ilya reaching behind him like this to open up, but Shane was glad Ilya kept him like this in his lap, close. Shane needed to look at him, to feel every breath and watch every heavy, dazed blink.  

Before he knew it, he was raising himself up on his knees and sinking down onto Ilya, hot and hard and perfect.  

It was always perfect, Shane thought as he moved his thighs, slowly grinding his hips down. Ilya gasped as Shane sat flush against him, pulling him closer to kiss him.  

They hadn’t done it this way before, Shane realised. He was always underneath Ilya, or in front of Ilya; he hadn’t ridden him before. Shane shuffled slightly, getting his knees into the exact right spot –  

He moved.  

Shane rolled his hips as he rose up on his knees before he lowered himself, his ass slapping against Ilya’s thighs before he repeated his movements, moaning at just how fucking good Ilya felt.  

He had no idea if he was doing it right, or if he looked good, but Ilya reacted immediately. He gripped Shane’s waist painfully, his fingers digging in so deep it made Shane grind down harder.  

“Fuck,” Shane breathed, digging his own fingers into Ilya’s biceps.  

Ilya moaned in turn, sitting back languidly while Shane pleasured him, looking every inch like the king Shane thought he looked like. Shane was barely aware of his own cock as he rode Ilya, desperate to please him, to make him come. Ilya looked wrecked as he watched Shane, his hands roaming all over his body as his breathing picked up.  

Shane faltered slightly as Ilya moved, pressing two fingers into his mouth and pulling his lip down. Shane moved quicker as Ilya muttered something in Russian, grabbing Shane’s pec with his free hand and groping roughly. Shane rose up on his thighs and slammed back down harder and faster as Ilya writhed beneath him, heavy pants and moans filling the room.  

Shane couldn’t keep his hands off of Ilya; caressing his face, brushing his hair back, scratching down his chest. He kissed his lips, his neck, sucked at the soft skin of his earlobe. He drew moan after moan from Ilya as he rode him, determined to get Ilya off, the way Ilya had gotten him off every single time.  

“Shane, fuck,” Ilya cried out, tensing beneath him as he came with a low moan, thrusting his hips up into Shane’s. Shane keened as he followed Ilya over the edge, spilling white hot all over Ilya’s chest.  

Shane kissed Ilya as he slowed his movements, working his way to sitting in the cradle of Ilya’s hips without moving. Ilya made a grateful sound when Shane fell still, gripping his thighs greedily and kissing him back hungrily.  

“So, you like my tattoo?” Shane asked as he kissed Ilya’s neck.  

Ilya scoffed as Shane smiled. He so rarely got to tease Ilya; Ilya was always teasing him, always testing him. It felt nice, to catch Ilya off guard and be the one instigating the jokes for once. 

“I like your tattoo,” Ilya murmured as Shane gently bit his earlobe. “My tattoo.”  

Shane nodded, sitting straight and looking Ilya right in the eye. “Your tattoo,” he agreed.  

The kiss Ilya rewarded him with was bruising, all consuming. Shane didn’t understand how Ilya managed to do this to him; to set every cell of his body alight like this, desperate and alive and bright and happy, but he never wanted it to stop.  

>>>  

It was pitch black.  

Shane jerked awake, taking a long moment to get his bearings, smiling when he realised he was asleep against Ilya, his back cradled against his chest. He bit his lip, flinching at the sharp sting, before he realised that Ilya was hard against his thigh. He rolled his hips back, shifting in Ilya’s arms and smiling when he felt the exact moment Ilya woke up.  

Ilya grabbed him tightly, one hand digging into his pec and one snaking down to his ass. Shane let out a soft noise as Ilya lined his dick up to Shane’s hole, pressing against him languidly.  

Shane rolled his hips back encouragingly, telling Ilya what he wanted. And Ilya, like he always did, listened to Shane’s body and gave him exactly what he wanted.  

It was languid, relaxed, almost; Ilya was fucking into him as if they had all the time in the world, and Shane took it happily, moving his hips to meet Ilya’s and moaning every time Ilya hit the sweet spot inside him that made his whole body shake.  

Perfect, Shane thought as Ilya pressed wet, biting kisses against his shoulder and moaned lowly into his ear.  

It wasn’t until their sleepy orgasms were calming down that Shane wondered, distantly, if that faint buzzing sound he could hear had woken him up.  

>>>  

Shane startled, sitting straight up and cursing when he realised it was bright in Ilya’s bedroom.  

“Fuckkkk,” he groaned, scrambling out of bed and searching for his pants on the floor in a panic.  

He'd slept over at Ilya’s. And Rose was at home waiting for him.  

Shane hadn’t even thought to text Rose to tell her that he’d been late; he had followed Ilya upstairs last night with no intention of leaving, and he hadn’t once thought about letting her know that he was crashing with...a friend.  

“Fuck,” Shane cursed, finding his pants and shaking his phone out of the pocket. His stomach dropped when he saw that the battery was flat. “Shit.”  

“Shane, chto ty delayesh'?”  

“What?”  

Ilya sat up, looking adorably confused, his hair fluffy and his eyes squinted against the light. “Um,” he frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to find his English. “What are you doing?”  

Shane let himself smile at Ilya, his eyes sweeping down his naked chest, biting his lip at his exposed hip bone and wincing at the ache in his lip.  

Right. He got drunk last night, got a tattoo, and followed Ilya straight to his bed and rode him until his thighs gave out. He'd forgotten, once again, all about his girlfriend, waiting alone in their home for him.  

Shane dressed frantically as Ilya climbed out of bed, reaching for a fresh pair of boxer briefs. Shane took a second to just stare at Ilya before he put his t shirt on, taking the fresh pair of socks Ilya threw at him when he couldn’t find his own.  

“You weren’t supposed to let me fall asleep,” Shane complained.  

“How was I supposed to do that?” Ilya asked, rounding the bed and brushing Shane’s hair out of his face. Shane felt himself melt as Ilya grabbed his hips, catching himself as he swayed towards him.  

“I have to go,” Shane said apologetically as he stepped away and left the bedroom.  

He could hear Ilya follow him as he reached the front door, stuffing his feet into his shoes and grabbing his jacket.  

"You shouldn’t be leaving me,” Ilya complained. “I get so lonely. Have to touch myself. You should be the one touching me, not leaving.”  

Shane watched him pout as he shrugged on his jacket, wishing he didn’t have to leave. Wishing that he didn’t find it sexy that a grown man made that fucking face whenever he had to go back his own apartment. He reached for the front door, smirking when Ilya grabbed his hips from behind and turned him around, kissing him.  

It should have been gross, kissing like this without brushing their teeth, but Shane couldn’t bring himself to care. They could have been covered in mud and dirt, and he’d still want to taste every inch of Ilya.  

“I have to go,” Shane repeated, more to himself.  

“Wait here, I’ll call you a cab,” Ilya murmured back, his hands tightening on his hips.  

“No, I’ve gotta go now,” Shane laughed softly, giving Ilya one more kiss before he opened the front door.  

He felt Ilya freeze against him before he registered Marleau standing in the doorway, staring at them.  

Chapter 5: Cicatrix

Shane felt sick to his stomach. His instinct was to run, to flatten himself to the floor and pretend he wasn’t even there, but he could tell from Marleau’s face that he wasn’t going to get away with it.  

He also registered something else in his face, and it wasn’t surprise.  

Disappointment.  

“Jesus Christ,” Marleau said, rubbing his forehead.  

Ilya pulled Shane into the apartment by his hips and opened the door wider for Marleau to enter.  

“Come on. Not in the hallway,” Ilya said, his voice still deep and rough from barely being awake. 

Marleau walked inside, shutting the door behind him and looking between Shane and Ilya. Shane felt like his entire body was burning with shame, like his skin was being stretched too tight with the humiliation of being caught. He wanted to throw up.  

Later, he promised himself.  

“I told you to stay away from him.”  

Shane blinked, taking in what Marleau just said. His eyes were tight as he stared at Ilya, but Ilya looked unbothered, shrugging in his underwear, seemingly not caring that they had been caught.  

“I followed him home,” Shane said quietly.  

Marleau's eyes cut to him before he sighed. “Rose said you never came home last night. She was worried. Figured you had passed out with one of us, but I was hoping it wasn’t here.”  

“It’s not what you think –”  

“I saw you guys kiss twenty seconds ago,” Marleau cut him off.  

Shane balked, staring down at his shoes. Ilya was also quiet, which felt...wrong.  

“What’s going on, guys?” Marleau asked, his voice soft.  

Shane shook his head. “I can’t – I can’t do this. I need to get home. I’m sorry.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at either of them, but he heard Ilya’s gentle okay as he reached for the door and made his way onto the street, looking around wildly for a cab.  

Nothing. The street was empty.  

Shane walked twelve steps exactly before he threw up on the nature strip, water and bile and whatever alcohol was still in his stomach from last night, before he started walking in the direction of his apartment building. He didn’t even make it to the end of the block before a car horn honked.  

He stopped, sighing when he saw Marleau pulled over next to him.  

“Come on, let me give you a ride home,” Marleau offered.  

Shane stood rooted to the spot for a minute, grateful that Marleau didn’t push. He sighed when he realised his phone was still dead, and that this was the best option.  

Marleau didn’t say anything as Shane climbed inside, just driving in silence for a while. When he did speak, he used that low, careful tone he had used earlier.  

“I’m not gonna say anything.”  

“I’m cheating on my girlfriend,” Shane blurted out.  

“I know, kid,” Marleau said.  

His gentle tone made Shane want to cry. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to like this. Not after everything he’d done to hurt so many people.  

“Why are you doing it?” Marleau asked.  

“I don’t know,” Shane said, staring out the window, watching the grey buildings pass him by in a flash. “The first time it happened, it was just something that happened. It was like – instinct, or something. I don’t know. I just needed him.”  

Marleau didn’t say anything as he listened.  

“And then after that first time, I couldn’t stay away from him,” Shane admitted. It felt weirdly good to say it out loud. “It was like, I didn’t feel right unless I was with him. And then I just needed to see him, as much as I could. He didn’t know,” Shane said, turning to look at Marleau. “He didn’t know about Rose when we first started – at the start.”  

Marleau nodded. “I figured. Ilya isn’t that kind of guy.”  

“No,” Shane agreed. “He’s not like me.”  

Marleau slowed the car down, pulling over to park on the side of  the road. “Shane, I don’t think – I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you’re doing something that is gonna hurt Rose, but I think you’ve been hurting yourself for a lot longer by being with Rose in the first place.”  

Shane frowned, confused. “What?”  

“I mean – shit, I’m gonna put something out there, and I don’t need you to answer me,” Marleau said apologetically. “Shane, are you gay?”  

He felt like all the blood just fell out of his body, dropping to his feet and bleeding out of his toenails, seeping into the car mats and dripping down to the ground, absorbing him up. Shane shook his head, but he couldn’t make his mouth move. He was sure if he opened his mouth, he would throw up again.  

“It's okay if you are,” Marleau said. “I just think that you owe it to yourself to be yourself. And I think you owe it to Rose and to Ilya to figure out who you wanna be yourself with.”  

Shane tried not to grit his teeth as he nodded, unable to think of a single thing to say. They were silent as Marleau pulled back into traffic and drove him all the way home.  

Shane had no fucking idea who he was. That had always been the problem. He only knew who he was supposed to be, and he had spent so many years bending and twisting himself into the idea of who he was expected to be that he didn’t even know what was left of himself.  

>>>  

“Did you get into a fight or something?” Rose asked as he climbed out of the shower.  

Shane had walked through the door full of apologies. Rose had been wonderful, saying that she hadn’t expected him to get so drunk he had to crash with his friends, but that next time he had to let her know that he wasn’t coming home.  

She'd let him brush his teeth and shower in peace, but now she had questions, as she reached for his swollen lower lip.  

“Bit my lip,” Shane said, opting for as much truth as he could after everything.  

Rose stuck out her lower lip in sympathy as she reached for his face, brushing her thumb against his lip. It took everything inside Shane not to recoil from her touch.  

“So you had fun last night?” she asked as she stepped away, grabbing her hairbrush from the sink and facing the mirror.  

“Yeah,” Shane said as he dried off. “I don’t think I’ve drunk that much since uni.”  

Rose laughed as she reached for his pants, shaking them out and emptying the pockets for him before she dumped them in the laundry hamper. She frowned as she pulled out a receipt.  

Shane realised too late what she was looking at.  

“Did you get a tattoo last night?”  

Shane laughed awkwardly as he held his arms out for Rose and did a little turn, baring himself for her. “Does it look like I got a tattoo?” He watched her look him up and down before he shook his head. “No, a few of the boys did. It was a messy one, last night.”  

Rose seemed satisfied with his answer as she tossed the receipt in the bin. “You’d look good with a tattoo.”  

“I would?”  

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’ve thought about a tattoo before.”  

“Really? What would you get?”  

“I don’t know,” Rose shrugged. “I'd want something that meant a lot to me, though. No point in getting something otherwise, is there?”  

“No,” Shane agreed as he tugged on his underwear. “There’s not.”  

>>>  

He couldn’t sleep.  

Rose was far away, on the other side of the bed, not touching him, and for that, Shane was grateful. When they had first started sharing a bed, she had always been plastered against him. He had hated it; Shane liked his personal space.  

He wondered if he had wordlessly rejected Rose’s touch so many times that she didn’t even notice anymore when he moved away from her. Either way, he was thankful that he could lay on his back in peace, staring into the pitch black night as he thought about what Marleau had said earlier that day.  

Are you gay?  

I told you to stay away from him.  

The last one hadn’t been directed at him, but it may as well have.  

Shane had to try to stay away from Ilya. He knew that. He just...couldn’t. It was chemical, physical. Biological. His body couldn’t stay away from Ilya.  

He wondered if it was weird, his aversion to everyone but Ilya. Shane hadn’t ever felt like this about anyone before. Like he physically needed them. Like he couldn’t rest unless Ilya’s skin was against his own, soothing the frantic train of panic and disorder that flooded him.  

Are you gay? 

Shane didn’t know. He'd always appreciated beautiful men, but he’d also been able to recognise a beautiful woman. He knew Rose was beautiful; he constantly marvelled at how lovely she was. But he couldn’t deny that since meeting Ilya, the way he had looked at people had changed.  

He didn’t notice men anymore. He didn’t notice Rose’s loveliness anymore. All Shane saw was Ilya; his bright blue eyes with the tiny patch of brown in his left iris, his perfect red lips, the freckles that dotted every inch of his body, the unbelievably huge arms, the veins that called out to him. His chest, his perfect pink nipples. His Adonis belt, worthy of being sculpted and worshipped. His thighs, so thick and strong. Even his little toe on his right foot, perfectly imperfect, kind of janky, a result of a childhood accident with his brother that Ilya had told him about.  

Shane only saw Ilya.  

He rolled onto his side, away from Rose, and wondered if that was the thing inside of him that he had been trying to bury since he was a kid.  

Don't look at other boys.  

Don't cry in front of other boys.  

Don't flinch when they say faggot or gay.  

Don't get upset when they call you names.  

Don't react when they make fun of you for being a virgin.  

Don't recoil when a girl tries to kiss you.  

Don't let mom and dad know this is happening.  

Shane screwed his eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge the wetness he could feel on his lashes. Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. Boys don’t cry.  

Men don’t fucking do this.  

>>>  

Shane [9:48 Monday]  

I need to see you  

Ilya [10:11 Monday]  

You need to see me or you need me to fuck you  

Shane [10:14 Monday]  

Fuck off  

Both  

When can I see you  

Ilya [10:22 Monday]  

Come now  

>>>  

Shane smirked as Ilya threw the door open before he even knocked, pulling him inside by his jacket sleeve. He kissed him the second he was over the threshold, relieved to feel Ilya’s lips back on his, to run his fingers through his hair.  

“I missed you,” Shane breathed.  

“You were here yesterday,” Ilya said before he nipped at his neck.  

“Fuck,” he breathed, pushing Ilya away. “I came here to talk to you.”  

Ilya frowned as he reached for Shane’s cock, hard already inside his jeans. “Fine, talk. I'll listen.”  

Shane made a soft noise as Ilya shoved him down onto the couch, spreading his knees wide and kneeling between them. Shane didn’t even pretend to protest as Ilya unzipped his jeans and took him into his mouth, sucking his cock wildly, as if Shane hadn’t woken up in his arms less than forty eight hours ago.  

“Do you think I’m gay?” Shane blurted out.  

Ilya froze, pulling off him slowly, looking at him with an expression Shane had never seen before.  

“Do you think you’re gay?”  

Shane shrugged, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the couch, willing himself to calm down.  

“I don’t know.”  

Ilya kissed his thigh sweetly, waiting for Shane to look at him before he spoke. “What do you think?”  

“I think I’ve spent so long making sure I didn’t think about it that I don’t know what to think anymore,” Shane breathed out.  

Ilya leaned closer, pushing Shane’s t shirt up his chest and pressing his hands against his bare stomach. Shane took a deep breath, and another, and another, as Ilya’s touch kept him warm, grounded, rooted. Tethered to him.  

“You ever just let yourself be who you are?” Ilya asked.  

“When I’m here,” Shane said, looking at Ilya. “When I’m with you.”  

Ilya smiled softly as he looked up at Shane, his thumbs caressing his tummy. Shane let Ilya soothe him, taking deep breaths as Ilya kissed his thigh again. It never ceased to amaze Shane how much better he felt just being around Ilya. Being touched by him, even just having him look at him...  

“I don’t know if I'm gay,” Shane whispered. “The only thing I know for sure if how I feel about you.”  

Ilya’s hands moved from his stomach to his hips. Steadying, solid, strong. “How do you feel about me?”  

Shane bit his lip, the dull ache from his tattoo flooding his mouth. If there was anybody he could be honest with, who he could bare himself to, it was Ilya. He'd known that for months. It had been part of what terrified him about Ilya so much.  

“I think I like you a little too much,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya’s fingers dug into his hips as he looked up at Shane. “I like you a little too much, too.”  

Shane breathed a sigh of relief. He knew it, but it was nice to hear it. It was nice to say it.  

“I wouldn’t still want you – doing this, if I didn’t,” Ilya said.  

Shane hated how familiar he was with guilt by now. He hated even more that he had dragged Ilya into this.  

“I’m so sorry,” Shane breathed. “I didn’t mean to drag you into my bullshit.”  

He didn’t realise he was crying until Ilya leaned up to brush his thumbs under his eyes and Shane felt the wetness on his face. But Ilya just wiped them away and kissed him, so soft, so sweet, so perfect.  

“Don’t be sorry,” Ilya whispered against his lips, kissing his way down his neck.  

“Do you wish it could be different?” came tumbling out of Shane’s mouth, as if he wasn’t the one directly responsible for all of this.  

“Maybe,” Ilya said, pulling away from his chest to look up at him. “Maybe it will be.”  

Shane kissed Ilya, deeply, holding his face desperately as he pulled him over him on the couch.  

“Please fuck me,” Shane murmured.  

Ilya stood, pulling Shane up with him and leading him to the bedroom. It was quiet, still, as Ilya undressed them, laying Shane on the bed and kissing him. Shane let himself sink into the mattress, to melt beneath Ilya. He let himself relax as Ilya pressed two fingers inside him, stretching him open so carefully, so lovingly. He let himself stop thinking as Ilya made love to him, his hands caressing him like he was precious, like he wasn’t a bad person.  

Shane let Ilya kiss away his tears as he brought Shane to the edge, pressing into him with deep moans, working him through three orgasms, each one more intense than the last.  

He was a boneless mess by the time Ilya curled him behind him, kissing the sweet spot behind his ear as he held him close to his chest. Shane let his eyes shut as Ilya’s hand caressed his chest, down to his stomach, drawing nonsensical shapes against his skin.  

“Do you have to go?” Ilya asked.  

Shane did. He'd left work to come and see Ilya; he’d had no plan, really. He'd just needed to see Ilya, to touch him. He needed to get back.  

“No,” Shane lied. For once, the lie didn’t make him sick, didn’t make his skin prickle. “Do you need to be somewhere?”  

He felt Ilya shake his head, tucked into his neck. “Just here.”  

Shane let his eyes close. “Just here,” he agreed.  

>>>  

“How did you know?” Shane asked.  

Ilya kissed the back of his neck as he held Shane tighter. “Know what?”  

“That you, you know,” Shane muttered.  

“That I like fucking beautiful men until they cry?” Ilya teased.  

Shane scoffed, but Ilya hummed, a sound Shane recognised as his thinking sound.  

“I think I always notice beautiful people,” Ilya said. “I always see when someone is interesting or sexy. And I just want to touch them or please them. I don’t think about what is inside their pants. Does that make sense?”  

Shane nodded, considering. “So you’re..?”  

“Bisexual,” Ilya said.  

He nodded, considering. Bisexual was the sweet spot, Shane figured.  

“Are you bisexual?” Ilya asked.  

Shane didn’t answer as he burrowed into his arms, trying to feel warm.  

>>>  

Are you gay?  

Shane hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the question. He knew that sexuality was a spectrum, and people were anything straight to gay to bisexual to a dozen other things. Some people knew who they were. Some people were unlabelled. Some people switched it up, because it changed as they changed.  

But Shane didn’t know how he felt about it.  

Not until Rose tried to initiate sex days later.  

Shane had gone to bed early, hoping to be asleep by the time Rose was done with her bath. He had been drifting off when Rose climbed into bed, her skin soft and warm, and tried to climb on top of him.  

He had kissed her reflexively, his hands loosely resting at her hips before he pulled away, feigning exhaustion.  

“Shane,” Rose said, brushing his hair out of his face. He'd been unable to hide his flinch as she ground down on him, feeling possessive of his body.  

He was Ilya’s. He had the bite marks, the bruises and the tattoo to prove it.  

“I don’t feel well,” Shane lied.  

Rose rolled off of him, rubbing his back kindly. “What’s wrong?”  

“My head,” he lied. “I’m sorry, I just really wanna sleep.”  

“Oh, okay,” she said, sounding disappointed. “Yeah, of course. Do you want some painkillers?”  

Shane shook his head as he laid on his side, facing the wall, as Rose cuddled up behind him and gently scratched his scalp to soothe him. He screwed his eyes shut, the sick feeling lurching through his stomach, thinking about being in another bed, another pair of arms wrapped around him.  

As he drifted off to sleep, Shane abstractly wondered if it you could die inside and not even realise it until it was too late.  

>>>  

He knew the punch he threw was too hard when he saw Hayden recoil.  

“Damn, Hollander, brutal,” JJ called out from the sidelines.  

“Shit, sorry,” Shane apologised.  

“You okay?” Hayden asked, shaking out his arm.  

Shane nodded, circling him in the ring. “Yeah.”  

Hayden raised an eyebrow as he came at him, throwing a couple of jabs at his stomach before jumping back. “You sure?”  

Shane sighed, cracking his neck. “I mean,” he stopped, thinking about what he wanted to say. “I don’t think it’s working with Rose.”  

Hayden dropped his arms, looking surprised. “Really? Shit, I’m sorry man.”  

Shane nodded, unsure of what to say. JJ was silent from the side, just watching him.  

“Did something happen?” JJ asked.  

“I don’t know,” Shane hedged. “She’s great, but we’re just not compatible, I guess.”  

JJ raised his eyebrows as he looked at Hayden, who looked concerned. “Has it always been like this? I thought you guys were solid.”  

“I thought we were too, but then I think recently I realised that maybe we weren’t solid,” Shane said. 

Hayden moved to stand by JJ, nodding for Shane to follow him. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. I thought you guys were happy.”  

JJ didn’t say anything as he handed them their water bottles, but he could feel him watching him.  

So he should have been prepared when he stopped at Shane’s car as Hayden drove off outside the gym and asked him, “Are you okay? Really, Hollander?”  

Shane grit his teeth and nodded, doing his best to smile.  

“It’s just –” JJ cut himself off, looking for the right words. “You’ve been kind of all over the place lately. You’ve gone out more in the last few weeks then you did all of uni.”  

Shane tossed his bag into the passenger seat and tried to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m just having fun with you guys.”  

“Yeah, but the drinking?” JJ asked. “And, the tattoo? Don't tell me you didn’t get anything, you were back there for long enough.”  

He had no idea what to say. He wasn’t ready to truly address what was going on with himself, let alone talk to anyone about it.  

“I don’t know what to say,” Shane said quietly.  

“Look, I’m not trying to pressure you,” JJ said kindly, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing him. “I just want you to know that I’m here if you wanna talk about anything. Even if it’s hard.”  

Shane nodded, moving away and climbing into his car. He muttered a thanks as he pulled out of the car park without another word to JJ. He drove, not realising where he was until he parked out the front of Ilya’s building, ignoring the buzzing of his phone.  

It would be either Rose, his mother, or JJ. Whoever it was, Shane was sure he didn’t want to speak to them.  

He dropped his head, taking a deep breath as he rested against the steering wheel.  

It was instinct, at this point. To run, to come right to Ilya.  

Shane jumped when someone tapped the window next to him, relaxing when he saw Ilya in his dusty, high vis shirt and cargo pants.  

“Shane?” Ilya said, leaning into the window as Shane rolled it down. “What’s wrong?”  

“I just – I drove, and ended up here,” Shane said honestly. God, it felt nice to be honest with someone.  

“You wanna come upstairs?” Ilya offered.  

Shane nodded, climbing out of the car and following him up to the apartment. He'd been here so many times, he knew to avoid the creaky step inside the front door and which elevator went faster.  

Ilya waited until they were inside to turn to Shane and look at him properly. He braced himself for the inevitable are you okay or what’s going on –  

“How long do you have?”  

Shane blinked, looking at his phone quickly. “She’ll be home from work in about an hour and a half.”  

Ilya nodded, his jaw tensing as he kicked off his work boots and peeled off his shirt. “Come on.”  

Shane kicked off his own shoes and followed Ilya into the bathroom, taking off his own clothes and climbing into the shower with him.  

He lost all sense of time as Ilya lathered him up with body wash, rubbing it into his skin like he was worshipping him. Shane leant against the wall as Ilya kissed him, over and over, their hard cocks brushing against each other, but nothing more than that. Just Ilya’s hands on him, his lips; gentle caresses all over his body, through his hair. Soft kisses on the corner of his mouth, to his temple, to his shoulders.  

By the time Shane left Ilya’s apartment, his hair still wet, in sweats and a t shirt a little too big for him with twenty minutes to get to his own place and change into his own clothes, he realised they hadn’t even had sex.  

Ilya had just...kissed him. Taken care of him. Washed away all the confusing, bad thoughts that had been weighing him down for weeks.  

Shane rushed inside, grateful he had beaten Rose home as he stripped off Ilya’s clothes, tucking the sweatpants and t shirt in the bottom drawer of his dresser, next to the ring. He stared into the drawer until the door to the apartment opened, slamming the drawer shut.  

His mother was going to be so disappointed in him.  

“Hey,” Rose smiled brightly as she walked into the bedroom. “How was the gym?”  

“Alright,” Shane said. “How was work?”  

“Oh god,” she said, throwing herself down on the bed dramatically. “She wants to do some indie art house movie where they have real sex on camera.”  

"How does that work?” Shane asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.  

“I have no fucking idea,” Rose sighed, sitting up and leaning her head on his shoulder. “Would you be mad if I just took a nap?”  

“No,” Shane said, grateful for the out. “I’ll make dinner, grab it whenever you want.”  

“God, you are so good to me,” Rose smiled at him as he stood. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”  

Shane smiled tightly as he left the room, shutting the door behind him and heading into the bathroom, pulling down his lip to stare at his tattoo.  

It felt healed now. Shane knew it was surface level, that the top layer of skin had closed over, but that there was more going on underneath, his body still working to heal the layers underneath, to close over and scar where nobody could see it.  

But he already missed the way Ilya’s teeth would cut clean through the soft skin, the way he would bleed for him. He missed the way Ilya would taste him, hungrily, needing him. Needing to consume him, completely.  

Shane shut the door and stared at his reflection.  

Shane, are you gay?  

He forced himself to stare himself in the eye and whispered, “Yes.”  

Shane felt tears well up.  

It wasn’t a lie, for once. He didn’t feel the sick feeling in his stomach when he answered the question. He didn’t feel like his skin was being peeled away from him as he said it.  

It felt real, honest.  

It felt final.  

>>>  

He stayed away from Ilya until their game on Saturday afternoon. Shane barely remembered any of the plays, barely able to tell if they had won or lost, but when he got back to his locker, there was a text waiting for him.  

Ilya [14:54 Sunday]  

Come over  

Shane [15:11 Sunday]  

Now?  

Ilya [15:12 Sunday]  

Yes  

Shane [15:12 Sunday]  

I can’t  

Ilya [15:14 Sunday]  

You can  

You will  

Shane chanced a glance across the locker room, feeling his cheeks heat up when he realised Ilya was already staring. He nodded slightly, looking away when he realised Marleau was watching him.  

Fuck. Shane had successfully avoided Marleau all week, even during the game, but now... 

Marleau knew about them. He knew about Shane.  

Shane kept his head down as everyone changed, some of the boys talking about going out for drinks again that night, when he felt a hand clap him on the shoulder.  

“Going out tonight, Hollander?”  

Shane turned and forced a smile as he shook his head at Marleau. “No, not tonight. Quiet one in for me.”  

Marleau looked disappointed as he turned to talk to Hayden. Shane grabbed his phone and opened the text thread with Ilya.  

Shane [15:19 Sunday]  

Meet you there  

>>>  

Ilya had beat him home and left the door open for him. Shane gasped as Ilya pulled him inside roughly, shoving him against the wall and kissing him.  

Shane kissed him back, desperate, even though he had been here four days ago.  

“Fuck, I missed you,” Shane breathed, shoving Ilya’s shirt up so he could touch his chest.  

Ilya was always so warm, Shane loved it.  

“You’re warm like a fire,” Ilya mumbled as he kissed his neck.  

Shane couldn’t help but laugh. “I was just thinking the same about you.”  

Ilya pulled back to smile at him. “We are on the same page.”  

"Yeah,” Shane agreed. “Have been for a while, I think.”  

Ilya nodded. Shane could see it in his face, the way he was beaming, but trying not to. It was unreal how he’d gotten so familiar with Ilya’s many faces over the last few months, and how he had liked every single one of them. How every part of Ilya was so kind, so good. How he had been so patient with Shane. How he had treated him.  

Shane couldn’t hide from it any more.  

“Oh, holy shit,” Shane realised. “I love you.”  

Ilya’s face went still as he stared at Shane, assessing him. Shane stayed quiet, watching Ilya watch him, hoping, praying, that he would say something back. Something good, something –  

“I love you, too,” Ilya said, his hands tightening around him.  

“Oh my god,” Shane breathed as he surged forward and kissed Ilya again, the kiss biting and desperate. “I’m so in love with you.”  

Ilya kissed him back just as bruisingly, pulling Shane away from the door and pushing him backwards to his room. They undressed quickly, hands roaming everywhere so fast that Shane could barely keep up. By the time Ilya pressed into him, his legs folded by his sides, Shane felt a startling clarity wash over him.  

“I think I’m gay,” Shane said.  

Ilya laughed as he fucked him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly as he rolled his hips into him. “What makes you think that?”  

Shane laughed too, his chest feeling lighter than he had in – well, ever.  

>>>  

“I’m sorry I pulled you into this mess with me,” Shane said quietly.  

Ilya didn’t say anything, laying on his side, facing Shane. His face was open, calm, not judging. Loving.  

“I wish I had figured this out earlier,” Shane said, reaching for Ilya’s hand. Ilya’s mouth twitched as Shane locked their fingers together, holding their clasped hands over his heart. “I wish I didn’t let this get so messy. I’m sorry I did this to you.”  

“I think you did this to yourself,” Ilya said. “Like, hurting yourself. I think it’s normal for you.”  

“Maybe,” Shane frowned, taking that in. He hadn’t thought about it that way before. “I um, I need to break up with Rose. I can't keep doing this to her. And I want – this – with you. If, you know, if you want it.”  

"I want it,” Ilya said quietly.  

Shane wished he knew how Ilya always knew exactly what to say, or when to say nothing. He never knew what to say, or when to say it. He shut his eyes as he felt tears forming, embarrassed at being the one upset when he was the one who did this to them.  

“I fucking hate myself,” Shane breathed.  

Ilya was on him in half a second, pulling Shane to his chest and cradling him. “No,” he said sharply. “This is a hard thing. It's messy, and it’s a bad situation, but you are not a bad person.”  

Shane sniffed as he tried to keep his tears to himself. “I hurt you. I hurt Rose. For so long, fuck.”  

“I also hurt Rose,” Ilya said in a soft voice. “I am not proud of this. But it’s hard, this. Not having room to...be. Feeling like you have to take what you can get because it could go away, or it’s not safe.”  

Shane nodded, focusing on Ilya’s heartbeat, on his soft breaths. On how much deeper his voice sounded with his ear plastered against his chest.  

“I didn’t know I spent my whole life pretending to be someone I wasn’t,” Shane said, his chest feeling heavy. “I thought it was normal. I didn’t know. My mom – she's going to fucking hate me.”  

“Is hard,” Ilya said, his voice thick. “Is hard pretending to be someone you aren’t.”  

They were silent for a beat before Ilya spoke again. “You really think your mother will hate you?”  

Shane shrugged. “I think – she has so many hopes and expectations for me that anything I do outside of them will mean letting her down,” he explained. “I didn’t play hockey professionally like she wanted. I didn’t wanna be an athlete. I went into STEM. Disappointment after disappointment.”  

“And being gay will be another one?” Ilya whispered.  

He shrugged. “What was it like for you?”  

Ilya looked tense. He had told Shane all about his mother, how wonderful and loving she was, but had said less about his father.  

“My father is police,” Ilya explained. “I know very well about expectations.”  

Shane pulled away enough to look at him. “I’m sorry that you know what it’s like.”  

Ilya shrugged, a sad smile on his face. “Is okay. I’m okay now. With you.”  

Shane leaned in to kiss him, a soft press of their lips together, nothing more. “I wanna be with you. I know it’s – this whole thing isn’t ideal, but. That's how I feel. I wanna be with you. I don’t think –  I mean, I know I don’t deserve you, but –”  

Ilya clicked his tongue, sitting up and reaching over to the bedside table. Shane bit his lip as Ilya turned back to him, his fist closed.  

“I wanted to give you this weeks ago,” Ilya said, gesturing for Shane to hold out his hand.  

Shane swore his heart skipped a beat when Ilya dropped it into his palm. “A key?”  

“For here,” Ilya nodded. “I want you here. With me. Properly.”  

Shane huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t mean that.”  

Ilya looked at him intently before he shrugged. “It’s your key. Use it, don’t use it. Up to you. But if you need a place to stay after – after. You can come here. I hope you come here.”  

Shane nodded, sitting up and looking at the key. “I don’t want you to think I’m using you for a place to stay just because I might be homeless soon.”  

Ilya sighed as he sat up next to him, looking tired. “Shane, you have me tattooed on your skin. Inside you. I don’t think you are using me.”  

Shane nodded, relieved.  

“Maybe for my big cock –”  

“Jesus,” Shane said, shoving Ilya back against the mattress and shaking his head. “Okay, enough. I get it. Thank you. For the key. And for –”  

Shane wasn’t sure how to say for everything else.  

Ilya smiled up at him, reaching to brush his hair out of his face. Shane couldn’t even remember the last time he had cut it; not since before Ilya. Not since Ilya had been here to thread his fingers through his hair, pulling on it roughly whenever Shane swallowed him down.  

“You’re welcome,” Ilya said.  

>>>  

Cliff’s 30th  

Unknown number [18:33 Tuesday]  

Hi guys, this is Svetlana. I'm sure you know that Saturday is Cliff’s birthday. I was thinking that we could surprise him by having drinks at Lee’s on Friday at 8pm for him. Please let me know if you can make it, it would mean a lot to us!  

Ilya [18:35 Tuesday]  

You guys might not know but this is Svetik having a panic attack because Marley didn’t tell her when his birhday was and she did not have many weeks to plan a big party  

Svetlana [18:36 Tuesday]  

Замолчи 

Ilya [18:37 Tuesday]  

Wow guys she just said she hates all North Americans  

JJ [18:39 Tuesday]  

Somehow I don’t think she did  

I'll be there Svetlana :)  

Hayden [18:42 Tuesday]  

Jacks and I will be there!  

Shane [18:45 Tuesday]  

Count me in  

Shane stared at the new group chat, watching as all the boys from the hockey team one by one confirmed they would be there. He jumped when Rose sat with him on the couch, looking at his phone.  

“What’s up?”  

“Um, Svetlana is throwing drinks for Marleau’s birthday,” he said.  

“Oh, fun! When?” Rose asked, reaching for the remote to turn on the television.  

“Friday night,” Shane said, staring into the distance.  

"Fuck, I won’t be here.”  

He frowned, confused. “What?”  

“Remember, I'm flying out tomorrow morning to LA? We have that pitch for the new movie promo,” Rose said. “We have that party Friday night, I’m back on Saturday lunch.”  

“Oh, bummer,” Shane said, trying to mean it.  

Rose sighed, cuddling into Shane’s side. “Fucking sucks, I know.”  

Shane tried not to smile as he thought about the three days he would get to simply exist, not having to lie, to just be who he wanted to be. Not having to perform and pretend.  

>>>  

Ilya's key worked.  

He smiled as Shane walked into the apartment, locking the door behind him.  

“Hey.”  

“Hi,” Ilya smiled, sweaty and so beautiful. “I was about to shower.”  

Shane stripped off his shirt as he kicked off his shoes. “Good timing,” he said, grabbing Ilya by the wrist on his way to the bathroom and dragging him inside. Ilya laughed as Shane helped him undressed, pushing him under the hot spray and sinking to his knees for him.  

>>>  

“I want you to know,” Shane whispered into the darkness. “I’m going to break up with Rose when she’s back this weekend.”  

Ilya didn’t say anything, but Shane felt him squeeze him tighter.  

“I want to do this with you, for real.”  

Ilya kissed his shoulder, and Shane released a deep breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.  

>>>  

He hadn’t gone back to his apartment since he dropped Rose off at the airport on Wednesday morning. It was daring, to show up to Marleau’s birthday drinks in one of Ilya’s shirts, even if it was just a plain white t shirt, but if anyone looked too closely, they would see that it was a little too loose on him, a little too wide. They might see that they arrived in the same car, or that Ilya kept his thigh pressed against Shane’s under the table.  

But their friends weren’t paying attention to them.  

“Shane! Where’s Rose?” Jackie asked.  

Almost no one.  

“LA, for work,” he said. “Back tomorrow.”  

“Oh, what a shame she had to miss tonight,” Jackie said.  

Shane tried to look sad, but he was sure he wasn’t fooling anyone.  

“Hey,” Ilya said, standing up and getting everyone’s attention. “Sveta just text me, they are on the way. Fifteen minutes. She said to yell when he comes in.”  

Hayden sat down next to Shane, handing Jackie a fancy looking red cocktail as he sipped on his beer. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” he said.  

Shane grimaced. “I’m sorry, man. I've had some stuff going on.”  

Hayden frowned. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”  

Shane looked around; everyone was talking loudly. Jackie and Hayden were focused on him, but even Ilya, his ankle pressed against Shane’s, had turned to talk to JJ and Scott Hunter.  

“I um, I’ve just sort of realised I need to end it with Rose,” he admitted.  

Saying it out loud shouldn’t have felt as good as it did.  

“Oh, shit,” Hayden said, wide eyed.  

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, honey,” Jackie said kindly.  

“No, it’s for the best,” Shane said. “I just – so much of our lives are together and I don’t know how to do it without hurting her, but I need to do it when she’s home tomorrow.”  

He probably shouldn’t be telling people this, Shane thought. But maybe he needed someone to tell him that he was making the right choice. That he was doing right by Rose.  

“Can I ask – did something happen?” Jackie asked.  

Shane felt Ilya’s thigh press against his reassuringly.  

“I just feel like I’ve spent so long being something I wasn’t to be what Rose needed but I can’t do it anymore,” Shane said honestly.  

Hayden looked confused, but Jackie, somehow, seemed to get it.  

“It’s gonna be hard, but I’m proud of you, hon,” Jackie said. “It’s not an easy thing to do, but you both deserve to be happy, whatever that looks like for you. And I think it’s the right thing to do to end it before it goes any further.”  

“Thanks,” Shane whispered.  

Jackie reached out and squeezed his wrist before she changed the subject to something that the girls were up to in school.  

Shane was resolved; he was going to do this. He was going to go home in the morning, pack a bag, and tell Rose it was over. He was going to be honest with her, tell her who he was and why they couldn’t work. He was going to leave her with the apartment, because that was the right thing to do, and he was going to let himself be happy.  

He pressed his thigh against Ilya’s, catching the slight smile on his lips as Shane touched him.  

Something settled in Shane’s stomach, something light.  

Hope, maybe.  

Jackie was the first one to stand up, cheering for Marleau as he walked in with Svetlana. The boys followed fast, standing and cheering happy birthday for Marleau as Svetlana led him over to the back of the bar when they’d commandeered the entire section, laughing.  

“Oh shit,” he said, greeting them all and thanking them.  

“Is it just me, or did he not look very surprised?” Hayden whispered into his ear.  

Shane frowned. “He didn’t?”  

Hayden shook his head, downing the rest of his beer. “No.”  

Shane shrugged. “Maybe he caught Svetlana planning it?  

“Maybe,” Hayden said.  

Shane settled back into his chair, chatting to Wattsy about how Lisa was house hunting, stealing a fry from the baskets that were lining the tables with bar appetisers. He was on his second beer when Marleau stood up and held out his beer, absolutely beaming.  

“Cheers for tonight, lads,” he said. “Thanks for coming out and bringing your better halves.” 

Jackie, Lisa, and a few of the other wives whooped for themselves. Shane smiled, catching Ilya’s eye for a split second and needing to look away before they laughed. It was nice, Shane thought, sitting with Ilya with all their friends. Perfect, even.  

“Sveta, thank you for putting this together,” Marleau said, reaching for her hand and pulling her up. “You kind of ruined my plans for tonight, but this works.”  

Shane watched as Marleau put his beer down and dropped onto one knee, pulling a ring out of his pocket.  

“Svet –”  

“Yes,” Svetlana said, throwing herself down on top of Marleau.  

The cheering in the bar was so loud Shane finched. Ilya's hand found his knee as everyone clapped and hollered their congratulations, Svetlana’s loud laugh cutting through the noise.  

“Ilyusha! On sdelal predlozheniye!” she yelled.  

“Ya znayu, ya videl!” Ilya yelled back.  

“What did she say?” Shane asked.  

“She told me he proposed. I said that I have eyes,” Ilya said, shaking his head. “We are six feet away.”  

Shane laughed. “I’m happy for them.”  

“Me too. Marley is good man,” Ilya smiled.  

Shane looked at Ilya, letting himself look at him properly while everyone was distracted. He wondered if one day, that could be them. If he would propose to Ilya, or Ilya would propose to him one day. If they’d have a bar full of friends to celebrate them like this.  

Ilya looked back at him, eyes bright, and for a moment, Shane knew that Ilya was thinking exactly what he was thinking.  

They shared a private smile before they joined the celebrations again, holding up their beers and toasting Marleau and Svetlana.  

>>>  

Shane cut himself off after three beers. He wanted to drive his car home, and Svetlana had gotten Ilya and a few of the boys onto shots.  

Everyone was rowdy, in the best way. There was a buzz in the air that Shane hadn’t really felt before, a collective excitement that he hadn’t experienced before. When he mentioned it to Jackie, she smiled at him.  

“It’s youth,” she said wisely. “That feeling when you realise you have your whole life ahead of you and there’s so much to look forward to, and you get to experience it with your favourite people. That and, you know, love makes people horny and excited.”  

Youth.  

Shane liked that. He had spent so much time thinking about how many years he had invested in a lie, in being something that he wasn’t, that he hadn’t considered how young he was. How much life he still had to live. Fuck, he was only twenty six. He had decades.  

He kicked Ilya under the table, making sure no one was listening when he leaned in to whisper into his ear.  

“Meet me at the car in like five minutes,” he said. Shane stood when no one was watching, walking across the room to the bar. When he was sure no one was looking, he darted out the side door to the car.  

The bar car park had been full, so Shane had parked on the side street. It was quiet, and perfect. He unlocked the car and climbed into the back seat, waiting for Ilya.  

Ilya, who looked confused as he came down the side street, looking around unsure. Shane flung the back door open, smiling when Ilya laughed and climbed in with him.  

“Risky,” he said.  

“We’re young,” Shane shrugged. “Fuck it.”  

Ilya smiled as he leaned in to kiss Shane, needy and filthy and excited. Shane wondered if there was something to what Jackie said about love making people horny; it felt true. Ilya pulled Shane into his lap, making soft, dirty noises as Shane ground down against his hips. 

“Fuck,” Ilya moaned. “I love you in my clothes,” he said as he pushed Shane’s shirt up, feeling his abs.  

“I love wearing them,” Shane admitted, trying to keep his hands out of Ilya’s hair so they wouldn’t look too obvious when they got back to their table.  

Ilya moaned as he unzipped Shane’s pants, palming his cock through his boxer briefs. Shane returned the gesture, reaching for Ilya’s cock, pleased to see they were both hard. He sighed as Ilya held their bare cocks together, stroking them. Shane knocked his hand away, thrilled to discover something new.  

It was too much, both of them in one hand; amazingly so. Shane couldn’t tell who was moaning as he jerked them off together, watching Ilya in the soft glow of the faraway streetlight as he watched Shane get them off.  

“Come here,” Ilya murmured, grabbing his hand, stilling him, and spitting into it.  

Shane grabbed hold of their cocks again, wanking them off with renewed vigour. Ilya squirmed beneath him as Shane felt his balls tighten, his stomach tensing as pleasure shot through him. Ilya’s fingers dug into his hips as he pants, his hips jerking up –  

Ilya gasped as he came. Shane followed him, using their joint release to coat their cocks and jerk them through their orgasms.  

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya breathed.  

Shane kissed him as they came down together, kissing Ilya’s neck as he caught his breath.  

“Jesus Christ,” Shane panted.  

“I’m gonna need a cigarette before I go back in there,” Ilya murmured.  

Shane laughed as he wiped his hands on the outside of his boxers, grimacing at the mess. “I really should have had a better plan.”  

“We should start keeping hand towels everywhere,” Ilya laughed.  

“That’s...not a bad idea,” Shane acquiesced.  

Ilya tapped him on the thigh. Shane climbed off his lap, tucking himself back into his jeans as Ilya did the same. They wiped themselves off as best as they could, but Shane desperately needed a bathroom.  

“You go wash up, I need a cigarette,” Ilya winked.  

Shane berated him for smoking as he climbed out of the car, waiting for Ilya to straighten up before he locked the door and turned to the bar –  

He froze when he saw Rose standing on the curb, her eyes wide and wet as she stared at them.  

Chapter 6: Maturation

Shane wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at Rose, but he was hyper aware that nobody had moved or said anything in a horribly awkward amount of time.  

He had a plan. He was going to sleep at Ilya’s tonight, then go back to the apartment in the morning before Rose’s flight got in. He was going to pack a bag, grab his essentials, and plan what he was going to say. He was going to say something that was honest, but not hurtful or cruel. He wanted her to know that he loved her, that he tried for years to be the man that she deserved, but that he couldn’t be that for her. He was going to leave her the apartment and pay three months rent so she was taken care of.  

But Rose was here. Staring at him. She had caught him cheating on her.  

With Ilya.  

“Rose, I –”  

"What the fuck, Shane,” she breathed. “How long?”  

There was no point in lying, Shane knew.  

“Three months, roughly.”  

Rose laughed, an ugly, detached laughed Shane had never heard before. Ilya was completely still behind him. He wished more than anything that Ilya wasn’t here for this; wasn’t here to watch Shane do the worst thing he’d ever done in his whole life. That he wouldn’t see the depths of Shane’s cruelty.  

“You’ve been cheating on me for three months,” Rose said flatly.  

Shane’s heart hurt as he watched her eyes flood with tears. She was back nearly eighteen hours early – had she cancelled on her work event to be here for him and his friends?  

He felt like a fucking monster.  

“With a man,” Rose said, not even looking at Ilya. “Is this – I don’t understand. Shane, are you –”  

Are you gay? 

Shane knew what she was trying to ask. He felt his stomach drop to the floor as he pondered telling her everything.  

He could lie. He could say he wasn’t quite sure, that all of this was new and he didn’t know what this was. But that wasn’t fair to Rose, who he had lied to, or to Ilya, who he wanted to build something with.  

“Yeah, I'm, uh, I’m gay,” Shane said quietly. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know until the other day. I thought it was just – I was drunk, or curious. The first time. But it’s more. It's been more the entire time. I’m – I love him. I'm so sorry, Rose.”  

He was grateful for Ilya’s hand on his lower back, just pressed against him, showing him that he was there.  

Rose’s eyes cut between Shane and Ilya, shock and anger clear on her face. She was hurt, but he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know who he was anymore. What he was. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t love Ilya down to his very marrow.  

He couldn’t keep lying anymore.  

“You love him,” Rose said. She laughed hysterically, flicking her hair out of her face.  

Shane had no idea what to do as he watched her take this in.  

“I’m so fucking stupid,” she muttered. “Jesus fucking Christ, I am so fucking stupid. I thought you were proposing.”  

Shane went still, feeling Ilya go rigid beside him. “What?”  

Rose laughed loudly. “Yeah. Fuck me, I guess, right? I found the ring a couple weeks ago. I thought you had been so weird lately because you were nervous about proposing.”  

It took everything in Shane not to turn to Ilya and apologise to him. His hand was still on Shane, which he figured was a good thing.  

“Um, my mom gave it to me. I didn’t, uh, I didn’t ask for it,” Shane said softly.  

Rose stared at him in disbelief. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t have. I should have guessed that, actually. You wouldn’t do anything spontaneous like that.” Her eyes cut to Ilya and the backseat, and she scoffed. “Well, not for me, at least.”  

Shane grit his teeth, forcing himself to see this through. Everything had gone so horrifically, but he could at least be honest with her now.  

“Rose, I’m so sorry,” Shane said. “I fucked up so badly. It's just – I love you. It’s not – it’s not the love you deserve. You deserve so much more than what I can give you. I just didn’t know it for so long. I tried so hard to be the normal, regular guy with the perfect girlfriend, and I didn’t realise I was hurting you by doing that.”  

Rose scoffed, looking down at her feet.  

“Can I take you back to the apartment?” Shane offered. “I’ll, um, I’ll grab some stuff and go. I can text you tomorrow to set up a time to grab the rest of my things during the week. You take the apartment.”  

She didn’t move for a long moment before she nodded, pulling her handbag close. Ilya brushed his thumb against Shane’s skin as he stepped away, giving them a wide berth as he headed back into the bar without a word. Rose finally looked back up at Shane, frowning when she saw the keys in his hand.  

“You have another key,” she said.  

Shane cursed himself for being pedantic and only keeping the essentials on the tiny key ring. Car, apartment, front door to his office. And now, Ilya’s key.  

He didn’t say anything as he unlocked the car, winding down the windows for fresh air and waiting for Rose to climb in. She did, after a long moment. Shane pulled away from the bar and drove them back to the apartment in silence.  

>>>  

Laptop. Chargers. Headphones. Underwear. Shirts. Pants. Skincare. Toothbrush. Envelope stuffed with his important documents.  

Engagement ring. 

Shane stared at his gym bag, stuffed with his essentials. He took a quick look around the bedroom, mentally cataloguing the larger things he would need to come back for, probably with a moving truck.  

He'd worry about it later.  

He made his way back into the main room, awkwardly looking at Rose. She was standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a large glass of wine.  

“When did you know you didn’t love me?” Rose asked.  

“I didn’t,” he said honestly. “I love you, Rose. I just didn’t know it wasn’t the right kind of love.”  

Rose finally looked at him, her eyes sad. “You really had no idea?”  

Shane shook his head. “I um, the first time I slept with Ilya, I thought it was just physical. And I felt so guilty, because I loved you so much, and I didn’t understand why I hadn’t really been attracted to you or wanted to have sex. And not just with you, but...anyone. Ever. I thought I was broken, you know? I got used to feeling like that. But with him, I’m not. And I didn’t understand it, because how could I love you and do this to you? So then I wasn’t broken. I was just stupid, and a bad person.”  

He could see the tears in Rose’s eyes, but he couldn’t stop.  

“But I realised that I do love you, I’m just not in love with you,” Shane breathed. “And then I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just fix myself and be with you, because you’re so perfect, and everyone loves you too, but it was just getting worse and I couldn’t pretend anymore, and I’m tired. I'm so sorry that I did this to you.”  

Rose's face was wet with tears as she stared at him. “You thought this entire time that you were broken?”  

Shane shrugged as he looked down at his feet. He hadn’t meant to try to justify his shitty behaviour like this, he just wanted her to understand that none of this was her fault.  

Rose took a large sip of her wine, gulping loudly. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to – that you felt like that. But fuck, Shane.”  

"I know,” he said.  

She nodded, looking away from him.  

“Do you need me to call anyone?” Shane asked. “Maybe you shouldn’t be alone tonight.”  

“Miles and Ella are on their way over,” Rose said, still looking away.  

Shane nodded, heading to the door. He stopped, moving to Rose and kissing her softly on the temple, feeling her lean in before he turned away. He walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him, feeling oddly like he just stepped outside of a cage he didn’t even know he was locked in.  

>>>  

Shane unlocked the door, then stood, unsure if he should knock.  

Ilya had given him a key. Only hours ago, he had told Shane to use it. He had told Shane to stay here, with him, to use it.  

The door swung open before Shane could do it himself. Ilya looked at him amused, one eyebrow raised high, in a pair of black sweatpants and not much else, still running a towel through his damp hair. He had to force himself to look away from his favourite freckle on Ilya’s hip.  

"Still works,” Shane tried to smile, holding up his key.  

Ilya held the door open, sweeping his arm wide to let Shane in, but something stopped him from going in. Ilya raised an eyebrow, confused.  

“I don’t wanna crowd you,” Shane said, wondering if it was too fast to be here after just breaking up with Rose. “I can go stay at a hotel.”  

Ilya rolled his eyes and grabbed his shirt, pulling him into the apartment. “One thing you should know about me, Shane. I do not say things I do not mean. It takes a lot of work to say things in English, so if I bother to say it, it is real.”  

“Okay,” Shane nodded. “I spent my whole life saying things I didn’t mean to keep people happy with me, so, it’s gonna take me a while to get used to that.”  

Ilya's eyes softened completely as he looked at him. “Shane,” he said, reaching to cup his face in his hands. “You don’t need to do that with me. I will always listen to you.”  

Shane nodded, leaning into Ilya’s touch. “I know. It's – it’s about me. And my parents, probably. But I'll try.”  

Ilya nodded, satisfied, looking down at Shane’s bag. “Ah.”  

“Yeah,” Shane said, dropping the bag by the door. “So, I’m single now.”  

It was sweet how Ilya tried not to look too thrilled at that. He managed to at least school his face into something neutral before he said, “I’m sorry this was hard for you. That she found out the way that she did.”  

“No, that was too risky,” Shane said. “I was reckless. I think I've been acting recklessly for a little while now, if I'm being honest. Hoping to get caught.”  

Ilya pulled him over to the couch, rubbing his hand across Shane’s back. “Are you okay?”  

“Can I be honest?”  

Ilya nodded.  

“I feel so fucking good,” Shane admitted. “I didn’t realise that lying had made me feel so anxious and sick for so long, and now I feel – light? Free? Like a real person for the first time ever. I feel like – healthy? Real?”  

Ilya reached up to brush his hair out of his face. “You are a real person.”  

“I felt like a ghost for so long.”  

Ilya gripped his wrists hard, grounding him. “You’re real. You're here.”  

“I know,” Shane nodded. “I always feel real when I’m with you. When I'm here.”  

Ilya smiled before he seemed to remember what had happened tonight. “Is she okay?”  

“Probably not,” Shane said. “I told her the truth. I owed it to her to be honest. You know, I loved her as much as I could. But it wasn’t enough. And that isn’t fair to her. She's amazing, and she deserves someone who can love her properly.” He turned to look at Ilya. The like I love you was silent, but Shane hoped that Ilya understood what he meant.  

Ilya close the distance between them, kissing him sweetly. Shane kissed him back, unable to hold back the sigh of relief that seemed to come from deep in his soul. He felt light, like a weight had been removed from his shoulders as he threw his leg over Ilya’s lap, climbing over him like he had been sitting only a couple of hours earlier at –  

“Oh, shit,” Shane realised, pulling away. “We just bailed on Marleau. And it’s a big fucking night for him. And Svetlana. She's like, your best friend.”  

“No, I covered for you,” Ilya said, caressing his thighs. “I said Rose called and you had to go. I stuck around for a bit before I slipped out.”  

Shane sighed. “I’m gonna have to tell people.”  

“Tell people what?”  

Shane bit his lip. “Everything, I think. Rose will tell people what I did. And I want people to know who I am. How I feel about you, I mean.”  

Ilya looked up at him with a soft smile. “Okay. But no rush, you know?”  

“I don’t wanna hide,” Shane said. “I don’t wanna hide you, or keep you secret. Fuck, this must have been so awful for you.”  

Ilya shrugged, looking down at his hands. Shane could tell he had hit the mark on this one, and his stomach lurched. He hadn’t really considered how Ilya had felt the last couple of months, being Shane’s dirty little secret.  

“What would we tell people?” Ilya asked.  

“I’d tell people that I fell in love with someone else,” Shane said. “That I wanna be with him.” 

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “He must be very hot to make you feel such things.”  

“Oh, he is,” Shane played along. “The most attractive person I’ve ever seen in my life. So hot he turned me gay.”  

Ilya laughed, the tension in his shoulders finally unfurling.  

“It’s more than that. You know that, right?” Shane asked, settling against Ilya’s chest. Ilya smiled softly, nodding. “What would you tell people?”  

Ilya shrugged. “That I met a guy through my friend’s hockey team. They are terrible, and he has a weak backhand –”  

“A weak backhand?”  

“Yes, very weak,” Ilya smirked. “But he has these beautiful freckles and a good mouth and he makes my heart – what’s the word?” he asked, tapping his chest.  

“Skip a beat?” Shane supplied.  

“Mm, yes, that,” Ilya nodded.  

Shane kissed him again before he pulled away. “I’m gonna wash up.”  

Ilya motioned to the bathroom, smiling as Shane grabbed his bag and headed inside. He shut the door behind him, freezing when he saw himself in the mirror.  

He looked different, somehow. Shane knew that he didn’t, really, but he felt like he did. Or maybe he just saw himself differently now.  

>>>  

Shane felt like a new man after his shower. He put on a fresh pair of underwear and moved into Ilya’s room with his bag, freezing inside the doorway when he saw Ilya moving stuff around.  

“Hey,” he said when he saw Shane. “Nightstand is empty for you. I made some room in the closet and these drawers.”  

Shane dropped his bag and grabbed Ilya, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. Ilya dropped whatever he was holding – something mesh that Shane would need to ask him about later – and kissed him back just as eagerly, letting Shane push his sweatpants down and shove him down onto the bed.  

He was so glad Ilya never bothered with underwear when he was home. Shane kissed his way from Ilya’s lips down his chest, sighing happily when he was finally at his freckle, his cheek resting against the hard jut of Ilya’s hipbone.  

“You made room for me,” Shane said.  

Ilya's hand moved through his hair. Shane couldn’t remember the last time someone made room for him. It was always him, contorting himself to fit into other people’s lives and spaces. Shane, moving and shifting to accommodate Rose. His parents. His friends.  

“You didn’t have to,” Shane said quietly.  

Ilya tugged him gently, making him move up and face him. “Didn’t have to what?”  

“Make room for me,” Shane said. “I know that – it can be a lot to have someone in your space.”  

“Our space,” Ilya said. “Has been ours for a while now, I think. And I have space. I want you to take it.”  

“Thank you,” Shane said, somewhat sheepishly.  

“Canadian politeness,” Ilya sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes once Shane looked at him. 

“No, seriously,” Shane said, settling against Ilya’s chest. “You changed my life. You made me want to live it.”  

Ilya looked at him searchingly, as if he was trying to work out what Shane meant. Shane leaned in to kiss him, holding Ilya’s face gently to try and show him how he felt. Ilya returned it, borderline frantic as he rolled Shane onto his back, pushing him into the mattress.  

Shane closed his eyes as Ilya kissed him, thinking about everything that had happened today, about how surreal it all felt. He had woken up in this bed, unfaithful to his girlfriend and in love with someone else, and was now going to bed with the man he loved, finally his own man.  

He was Ilya’s now, truly. Wholly.  

There was no dishonesty. No insecurity. No confusion. No Rose.  

It was just Shane, and Ilya, and this bed where Shane had been free to figure out who he was.  

Shane gasped as Ilya pressed inside him, slow, careful. He watched as Ilya stared down at where they were joined, rolling his hips gently. Too gently, too slow. Shane was about to lose his mind, so on edge after the day he had had. All he wanted was for Ilya to make him forget about everything, to make Shane his, to claim him.  

“Oh my god, fuck,” Shane whined, impatient. “Fuck. More, please, Ilya –”  

Ilya shook his head, keeping his pace slow, deep. Shane sighed as Ilya kissed him passionately, holding him close, his tongue insistent against his own.  

He moaned as Ilya reached to pull his lip down, a feral, guttural sound leaving his throat as he touched Shane’s tattoo. Ilya oved his hips a little faster as he leaned down to bite Shane’s lip, teeth cutting in to his flesh. Shane cried out as the pain shot through him, feeling so fucking good. It felt like relief.  

“Mine,” Ilya breathed against his lip, his hand gripping Shane’s chin tightly.  

Shane’s stomach tightened as pleasure shot through him, lighting up every nerve ending. He stared up at Ilya, entranced by how fucking beautiful he was.  

His blue eyes were wet and bright as he watched Shane. His skin was red, flushed and sweaty, and his hair was frizzy and damp, curling wildly, sticking up in every direction.  

He was so beautiful. Wrecked.  

Shane's.  

Shane made a soft, needy noise, pleased when Ilya understood and kissed him again. He held onto Ilya’s shoulders, pulling him closer, digging his nails into Ilya’s back. Ilya made a low sound as he moved a little faster, the vein in his neck throbbing. Shane leaned up to bite it, satisfied by the gasp Ilya let out.  

“Fuck,” Ilya breathed, muttering a string of what Shane thought were curses in Russian into his ear. Shane closed his eyes, listening to Ilya’s desperate pants, his low voice like honey in his ears. “Fuck, Shane.”  

Shane scratched down Ilya’s back as his cock twitched, the pleasure in his body building as Ilya made love to him.  

“Oh god,” Shane moaned as Ilya grunted, grabbing his wrist and pinning it down by his head, rolling his hips harder into Shane, heavy breaths like music in his ear –  

He cried out as he came, wrapped his free arm around Ilya’s neck to pull him closer. Shane could feel Ilya grind against him, coming inside him, hot and pulsing and claiming.  

Shane held Ilya as he slumped against him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and running his hands through his hair. “Jesus.”  

Ilya mumbled something against his shoulder that he couldn’t understand.  

“What?”  

“Better like this,” Ilya said clearer. “I don’t feel guilty now.”  

Shane nodded, holding Ilya close, not ready to let him go just yet. “Me either,” Shane said quietly, wrinkling his nose against Ilya’s tickly curls.  

>>>  

Shane sat at the counter, watching as Ilya whisked eggs. It was quiet and calm as the morning light streamed through the tiny window, illuminating the kitchen. Ilya had put him to work slicing fruit for breakfast, telling him that they needed energy for today.  

He wasn’t sure why; they didn’t have hockey today. Shane was just going to meet Hayden and JJ at the gym like usual, spar for a bit and then relax for the day. Before yesterday, his plans had just been to read and clean up the apartment.  

Now, though, he supposed he’d be spending the day unpacking and moving in.  

Change usually made Shane feel uncomfortable and terrified at best, and horrifically unmoored at worst. But the last few months had felt strangely like a practice run for his life now.  

He felt good. Settled. He felt like everything was right; Shane had never felt like this before. 

“Why do you look sad?” Ilya asked.  

Shane looked up from where he was leaning against the stove in his boxer briefs, his gold necklace reflecting light, his blue eyes focused on him.  

“I’m just thinking about how happy I am now,” Shane said.  

Ilya raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.  

“It just – it makes me realise how unhappy I’ve always been,” Shane admitted.  

Ilya's face fell as he nodded. “I’m sorry it was like that for you.”  

Shane shrugged, portioning out the fruit onto two plates as Ilya flicked off the stove and brought the pan over, divvying up the eggs.  

“It’s okay,” Shane said. “It’s worth it, it really is. It’s just – if I didn’t meet you, I never would have known, you know?”  

“What do you mean?”  

“I probably would have married Rose,” Shane explained. “I would have lived my whole life like I was.”  

“You don’t think you would have met someone else? Realised it later?” Ilya asked.  

“No,” Shane said immediately. “It’s you. It was you or nothing.”  

Ilya had a curious look on his face, like he didn’t quite believe Shane.  

“It’s hard for me,” Shane said quietly, picking at his berries. “I don’t connect with people easily. I've met a lot of really amazing people, but this,” he gestured between them, “this has never happened before.”  

“I know,” Ilya said softly, nodding. “For me, either. I've slept with many people, I never felt like this before.”  

Shane blinked. He'd assumed that Ilya had a colourful past, based on passing comments Marleau and Ilya himself had made, but that was quite a statement.  

“How many?”  

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “How many what?”  

Shane couldn’t walk it back now. “How many people have you slept with?”  

Ilya looked amused as he shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s not something I count. Feels childish to do, no?”  

“Yeah, sure,” Shane agreed.  

“But, enough to know this is very rare,” Ilya said.   

Shane tried not to smile at that. “So, hundreds of people, probably, and I’m the best one?” 

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Only twelve hours living here and you are very cocky.”  

“Your words,” Shane smirked.  

Ilya laughed as he dug into his eggs, looking pleased. “I’m very glad you’re here, properly.”  

“Sorry it took me so long,” Shane said.  

“It’s okay,” Ilya shrugged, stealing a piece of apple off of Shane’s plate.  

They ate in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher, bathing the entire kitchen in light even through the tiny window.  

>>>  

“Hollander!” JJ greeted as Shane walked up to him and Hayden at the gym. “You bailed on us last night.”  

“Hey, yeah, sorry,” Shane said, dropping his bag. “I had some stuff happen last night.”  

They went still, waiting.  

“So, Rose and I broke up,” he started.  

“Oh, shit.”  

“Fuck, are you okay?”  

“I’m fine,” Shane cut them off. “I’m actually kind of great?”  

Hayden looked surprised. “Oh. That's – good?”  

“I’m also, um,” Shane faltered, looking down at his feet. “I’m kind of living with Ilya now.”  

“Ilya?” Hayden repeated.  

“He’s in a one bedroom,” JJ frowned. “Hollander, come crash at mine, you can take the spare room.”  

“Yeah, or Jackie and I have room, if you wanna be closer to work,” Hayden offered.  

Shane smiled; his friends really were good guys. He hoped they would still want to be friends with him after he told them the truth about himself. About what he did.  

“Well, actually, one bedroom is fine, because we’re kind of sleeping in it together,” Shane said, wincing at himself.  

He was sure that was the dumbest way anything had ever come out.  

“Because you – what?” Hayden asked.  

Shane bit his lip, relaxing when the sting from Ilya’s most recent bite last night shot through his mouth.  

“We’re kind of together, I guess,” Shane said quietly.  

It was silent. Shane chanced a look at up his friends, frowning when he saw JJ and Hayden having some sort of silent conversation with their eyes.  

Shane hated when they did that. He never knew what they were signalling to each other.  

“You and Rozanov are a thing?” Hayden asked.  

Shane nodded. “Yeah.”  

“Is that why you broke up with Rose?” JJ asked in a gentle voice.  

Shane nodded, unable to meet his eyes.  

“Shit, Shane,” Hayden said, sounding shocked. “How long?”  

“A few weeks,” Shane admitted. “Maybe three months, I don’t know exactly.” He looked up, surprised to see his friends looking at him sadly.  

“Shane, I –”  

“I know,” Shane cut JJ off. “I was fucking horrible to Rose. I just – I didn’t know why I felt so wrong all this time, you know? And Ilya didn’t know about Rose at the start. I lied to both of them. And then by the time I realised that I might be gay, it was like, four days ago.”  

JJ looked more surprised by that than anything else. “You didn’t know you were gay until four days ago?”  

Shane flinched, embarrassed. “I just thought there was something wrong with me. And I guess there has to be, for me to cheat on Rose.”  

Hayden reached out, gently putting his hand on Shane’s shoulder. “Shane, I couldn’t even imagine feeling like that my whole life.”  

“Yeah, man, I’m sorry we didn’t know you felt like that,” JJ said.  

Shane sighed.  

“And, you know, I don’t think we’re condoning – everything – but I think we can understand how you got here,” Hayden said kindly. “You and Rozanov, is it – what is it?”  

It was too much to tell them that he was in love with Ilya, Shane knew that. He wanted to shout about how Ilya brought him to life, how Shane didn’t feel real unless Ilya was inside of him, but that was just for him and Ilya to know.  

“He’s my Jackie,” Shane settled on.  

Hayden looked stricken, and JJ whistled.  

“Oh, so it’s really real,” JJ said.  

Shane nodded. “Yeah. It's kind of everything.”  

“Okay,” Hayden said. “Well, in case you need to hear it, nothing changes with us,” he said. “We will need to be reintroduced to Rozanov as your boyfriend.”  

“Oh, I don’t know if – I'm not sure if he’s my boyfriend,” Shane said.  

JJ laughed. “Seriously?”  

“I mean, we’ve talked about a future, but we haven’t labelled anything,” Shane admitted.  

“Okay, so you’re living with him?” Hayden asked.  

“Yeah, I uh, I left Rose the apartment,” Shane explained. “It was the right thing to do.”  

“Wait, so this all happened last night?” JJ asked.  

Shane flinched, rubbing his face. “Yeah. Um, Rose flew in early for Marleau’s birthday and she kind of caught Ilya and I having sex in the car outside the bar.”  

Hayden made a choked sound while JJ laughed in shock.  

“You fucking what?” JJ said.  

Shane groaned, shaking his head. “It was fucking horrible.”  

The sobered up, realising the implications of how Rose must have felt.  

“Shit,” Hayden said. “So you left the bar to – break up with her?”  

“Yeah,” Shane said. “I’d been fighting it, I think, for a really long time. Before Ilya. And then my mom gave me her engagement ring to propose with, and even without Ilya as a factor, it just wasn’t something that I could do.”  

“Fuck,” JJ said. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t talk to us about this.”  

“No,” Shane said. “I mean, I didn’t know what was happening for years. I couldn’t talk about it when I spent so long pretending not to notice it.”  

Hayden looked sad, but JJ looked...determined.  

“So, what now?” he asked. “Do you need help moving out?”  

Shane blinked. He hadn’t even thought about that yet.  

“Oh, um –”  

“Let us know when you need a hand, I can borrow Jackie’s dad’s truck,” Hayden offered.  

“Thanks,” Shane choked out. “I’ll let you know.”  

Hayden nodded, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling. “So, should I beat the shit out of you or JJ first?”  

“Oh, Hollander looks like he could use an easy win today,” JJ teased, shoving Shane towards the ring.  

Shane smiled as he strapped his gloves on and followed Hayden into the ring as they filled him in on the rest of Marleau’s party, and how he and Svetlana had disappeared into the bathroom for an extended period of time and Scott Hunter had inadvertently seen them having sex.  

>>>  

Waking up in Ilya’s arms was making Shane greedy.  

“We need to go to work,” Ilya gasped, his fingers locking tightly in Shane’s hair.  

If Shane’s mouth weren’t full, he was sure he would be pouting. He sucked harder, taking as much of Ilya into his mouth as he could. He was nowhere close to deep throating, but he was going to get there, Shane was determined.  

“Bozhe,” Ilya murmured, his hips jerking up. Shane swallowed around his cock, keeping his eyes on Ilya as he watched Shane suck him off. He doubled his efforts, moving to palm Ilya’s balls as he bobbed his head –  

Ilya pushed Shane’s head down as he came, seemingly realised what he’d done as Shane choked around him. He gasped out an apology as he came, but Shane stayed where he was, swallowing everything Ilya had to offer him. He pulled off slowly, kissing across Ilya’s waist, down his thighs to his knees, and back up his chest. Ilya sighed as Shane finally reached his mouth, softly pressing their lips together.  

“Are you going to do this every morning?” he asked.  

“Maybe,” Shane considered. “I hope so. I kind of think about touching you all the time.”  

Ilya's face softened as he looked at Shane. ened as he looked at Shane. “I know what you mean.”  

Shane smiled before he sat up, sighing. “I’ll be back late tonight.”  

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Ilya asked, running his hand soothingly down his back. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, Hayden and JJ will be there. It shouldn’t take too long,” Shane said. “Hayden said I can store my furniture at his place until I work out what to do with it.”  

“Good,” Ilya said. “Lease is up in a few months. Maybe we look for a bigger place.”  

We. Shane smiled to himself, nodding.  

“Okay, yeah.”  

Ilya pulled him back down, kissing his shoulder and reaching for his cock.  

“I thought we had to go to work,” Shane teased.  

“I’m already late,” Ilya shrugged as he tugged at Shane’s hardness, setting a steady rhythm. Shane closed his eyes as Ilya jerked him, his hips arching up to chase his release.  

>>>  

“Are you okay?”  

Shane didn’t look at Hayden as he nodded, looking around the bedroom.  

He had grabbed his dresser, emptied out the nightstand and the closet, and been surprised to find that aside from the large dresser taking up the side wall, the bedroom looked exactly the same without him in it.  

Rose had been generous enough to set aside his things from the kitchen and the bathroom, and she had some flat pack furniture still in boxes by the front door to replace the things that Shane would be leaving with, but he was happy to leave his couch for her, and his entertainment system.  

He had Ilya’s furniture to share now.  

Rose had been quiet when he had shown up with JJ and Hayden. She hadn’t smiled or welcomed them in, but she had sat quietly at the table and stared at her phone as they moved Shane out in silence.  

“I think that’s all my stuff,” Shane said, turning to look at Hayden and JJ. “Um, do you guys mind if I say goodbye to Rose?”  

“Course not,” Hayden said. “Take your time.”  

Shane waited until they left, hearing them talk lowly to Rose for a moment before the front door shut before he made his way out to the main room.  

“So, I think that’s everything,” Shane said. “If I missed anything, I’m sorry. You're welcome to throw it out, or give it to Jackie to give to me.”  

Rose raised an eyebrow at that. “I can still be friends with Jackie?”  

“Of course?” Shane said, confused. “She’s your friend, too.”  

Rose nodded, a sad smile on her face. “Thanks.”  

Shane inched closer, unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”  

She shook her head and put her phone down. “I, um. I kind of suspected for a while that you might not be straight.”  

Shane felt like he had been slapped. “What?”  

“Yeah, um,” Rose huffed softly, looking away from him. “I remember Ruby and Jade’s birthday, seeing the way you were looking at – him – Ilya. And he was looking weirdly at you. And I thought that you guys were just, I don’t know. Attracted to each other.”  

Shame flooded his body as he thought about how he had been unable to look away from Ilya that day, Rose plastered to his side, his stomach painted with their drying come.  

“And I thought, I wonder, you know?” Rose continued. “And I had thought about floating like, a threesome, or something. To see if you would like being with someone that wasn’t me. Or a guy. I wasn’t totally sure.”  

Shane shook his head, beyond grateful that Rose had never brought that up to him. There was no way that Shane would have been able to bluff his way out of that one. He couldn’t even picture how a threesome between them would have looked; there would have been no world in which Rose wouldn’t have figured him out if she had have seen him with Ilya.  

“I’m sorry it took me so long to figure this out,” Shane said instead. “I’m really sorry I hurt you.”  

Rose nodded, waving him off dismissively. “Well, better now and not in ten years and three kids time, right?”  

Shane grimaced. Rose might never forgive him. He would just have to be okay with that. It was the least he deserved, after everything he had done. The weeks of lying and cheating.  

“Okay, well,” he said, reaching for his keys and sliding the apartment key off, leaving it on the table for her. Shane stood awkwardly for a moment before he turned, surprised when he felt a warm hand on his wrist.  

He opened his arms reflexively for Rose, who plastered himself against his chest. They stayed wrapped up in each other for a long moment before Rose pulled away, tears in her eyes.  

“If you see me around, come say hi, okay?” Rose sniffled.  

Shane nodded. “Okay.” He bent down to give her a kiss on the temple before he turned and left the place he had called home for four years without looking back.  

>>>  

Shane gasped at the pain, trying to push Ilya away, but Ilya didn’t move an inch. He just sunk his teeth deeper into the sensitive skin of his thigh, sucking hard before he pulled away.  

“Would you say yes?” Ilya murmured lowly against his skin, his hands pressed to the backs of his thighs, keeping his legs spread.  

Shane shook his head, stammering out a no as Ilya latched onto the opposite thigh. “Of course not.” 

Ilya hummed, soothing the bite with a sweet kiss, as if he hadn’t just made him cry out in pain. “I think maybe you would have liked it.”  

“Are you fucking insane. I couldn’t share you like that,” Shane breathed, pulling Ilya’s hair harder than normal. Ilya just laughed, but it wasn’t his usual laugh. It was tense, a little mean.  

“I think you would have liked her watching you take my cock,” Ilya said, pressing his hand down on Shane’s stomach. “You would have liked her touching you here, feeling me inside you.”  

Shane moaned; he loved seeing him possessive like this. Jealous.  

He hadn’t been able to keep Rose’s comment about a threesome to himself. Ilya's face had flashed with something dark that Shane had never seen before, and he had promptly thrown Shane down onto the bed and practically tore his clothes off, muttering something in Russian. Shane had asked him what he had said, but Ilya told him that it was none of his business.  

Ilya had spent the better part of twenty minutes kissing and licking Shane everywhere but where he needed to be touched.  

Punishment, he knew. But somehow, it felt like a reward.  

Confirmation that Ilya didn’t want to share as much as he did. Guilt pulsed through Shane, thinking about the weeks Ilya had spent knowing that Shane was with Rose, welcoming him into his bed sporadically.  

Shane didn’t realise he had shed a tear until Ilya was on top of him, letting go of his legs and kissing him.  

He hadn’t thought about how hard it would have been for Ilya, having to share Shane. Having to wait for Shane to get his shit together. Having to wait for Shane to choose him.  

It didn’t matter that Shane had chosen him the second Ilya had kissed him the first time. That Shane knew, the very first time he had followed Ilya up to this bedroom, that he would follow him everywhere. It didn’t matter that from Ilya’s very first touch, Shane was his.  

He hadn’t told Ilya that. Ilya didn’t understand that Shane had known from the beginning that Ilya was it, or why he had spent so long fighting the inevitable.  

“I’m sorry,” Shane breathed.  

Ilya soothed him, kissing him, wiping away at his eyes.  

“I hadn’t thought about how you felt,” Shane admitted. “All I could think about how hard it was for me. What was it like for you?”  

Ilya frowned a little as he thought, clearly choosing his words carefully. “It was hard. I had such strong feelings, and you kept running away, so I thought maybe you didn’t have the same feelings.”  

Shane's stomach dropped as he listened.  

“But you kept coming back,” Ilya said, his face smoothing out a little. “When we fucked, you would say things. I think maybe you didn’t know all the things you were saying to me. Too fuck drunk.”  

Shane scoffed as Ilya pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder.  

“That you wanted me, needed me. Dreamed of me,” Ilya said quietly. “That you didn’t want to leave. And you always came back.”  

“I kept running, but it was like I was running back here every time,” Shane said.  

“I think maybe I knew you were gay before you,” Ilya said. “I just had to wait for you to realise it. But I knew how you felt.” 

Shane nodded; he had no doubt. Ilya had clearly seen something in Shane that Shane hadn’t. He'd been so confident in pursuing him.  

Shane ran his hands down his firm chest, biting his lip as he groped his pecs. He loved this so much more than touching Rose’s chest. Ilya was so firm, so hard. He loved that. He loved being underneath Ilya, feeling safe. Real.  

“I’m sorry it took me so long to follow my gut,” Shane apologised.  

“You say sorry a lot,” Ilya said. “I think you should stop.”  

Shane frowned, unsure of what to say. Nothing felt adequate enough –  

“You should tell me how much you love it when I do this,” Ilya said, crawling down Shane’s body and hiking his legs up, folding him and spreading his –  

“Fuck,” Shane breathed as Ilya flattened his tongue against his hole.  

Everything felt faraway as Ilya worked his tongue inside him, his fingers digging hard into his thighs. Shane remembered what Ilya said, trying his best to grit something out about how good he felt, how much he loved when Ilya touched him there, put his tongue there, bit him...  

Ilya pulled away with a hard slap to Shane’s ass, folding his legs back against his chest even harder and lining his cock to his hole, pushing in slowly.  

“Fucking hell, Ilya,” Shane moaned.  

Ilya fucked into him hard and fast, Russian curses falling from his lips, his hands gripping him possessively. Shane couldn’t make anything out as he held onto Ilya’s wrists, desperate to ground himself.  

“Would you want her to see you like this?” Ilya asked, slipping back into character.  

Shane moaned, unable to pretend he didn’t love it when Ilya talked to him like this.  

“You on your back, taking my cock?” Ilya asked. “What do you think she would have said if I had made you come hands free? Just from fucking you?”  

Shane moaned at the thought of himself laid out like this beneath Ilya for an audience.  

“If she had have seen what a fucking slut you are for me?” Ilya pressed.  

Shane cried out at the thought of Rose watching him be claimed by Ilya, his cock spurting at the idea. “Oh god.”  

“You think she would have liked seeing you like this?” Ilya taunted, moving his hips faster. Shane moaned as Ilya slapped his ass again. “You think she would have liked watching you fucking take it?”  

Shane came with a silent scream, his stomach painted with his own come. Ilya reached for his cock, stroking him through it as he came inside Shane, his thrusts finally slowing to a stop as they caught their breath together.  

“No,” Ilya breathed as he laid over Shane, panting into his ear. “Only for me to see.”  

Shane nodded, unable to speak.  

Of course he was only for Ilya. The way Ilya was only for him.  

>>>  

“It will be okay,” Ilya said to him through the phone.  

Shane sighed, nodding, even though he knew Ilya couldn’t see him. “I should have said something earlier.”  

“It hasn’t been that long."  

“Over a month,” Shane corrected. “I've barely spoken to them in weeks.”  

“They will understand,” Ilya cooed. “They love you.”  

“Okay,” Shane tried to psych himself up. “I'm gonna do it, tell them everything.”  

“Yes, and then you come home, and I will give you a reward for being so brave,” Ilya teased. 

Even through his stress and anxiety, Shane’s cock twitched. “What kind of reward?”  

“We will see,” Ilya said.  

Shane smiled as he got off the phone, patting his pocket before shaking out his shoulders and walking into the restaurant. He spotted his parents in a booth near the back, waving to him.  

Now or never.  

“Hey,” he greeted, hugging his dad before hugging his mother.  

They sat down, beaming at him.  

“I ordered you a ginger ale,” David said, pushing a glass towards him.  

Shane smiled gratefully, taking a sip.  

“Honey, where’s Rose?” Yuna asked.  

Shane was grateful that she gave him an opening to get right into it, even if explaining himself made him feel kind of sick.  

“About Rose,” he said, reaching into his pocket and sliding it across the table. “Thank you for this, mom, but Rose and I broke up and I won’t be needing it.”  

Yuna's face fell as she looked at David. Shane looked at his father, who looked curious more than anything.  

“Are you okay?” David asked.  

“What happened?” Yuna interrupted.  

“I’m fine,” Shane said. “Rose is great, I love her very much. But we aren’t compatible. Or, we’re kind of too compatible, I guess,” he said to himself.  

His father raised an eyebrow as if he understood something, but his mother just appeared more baffled.  

“Shane, honey, I don’t understand,” she said.  

Shane nodded, trying to find his words. “I broke up with Rose because I’m gay.”  

The silence that settled over the table was thick, suffocating. Shane took another sip of his ginger ale, begging for one of them to say something.  

“Is this recent?” David asked.  

“Yes and no,” Shane said, confused on how to answer. “I just worked it out, but I think I always knew. Deep down.”  

David nodded, his face kind. “And you’re okay?”  

“Yeah, I’m kind of – kind of great, actually?” Shane said. “I’m happy.”  

David finally relaxed at that. Shane looked over at his mother, who looked shellshocked.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said quietly. “I know it’s not what you wanted for me.”  

Yuna looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”  

He shrugged, unsure of what to say. He didn’t want to blame his parents, but Shane was acutely aware of the sort of life they wanted him to lead. Get married to a woman, have babies, make decent money, have some kids. His mother had been talking about grandchildren since before he hit puberty.  

“Well, it’s not – traditional,” he hedged. “Me, being with a man.”  

“I never said –”  

“You’re with someone?” David asked.  

Shane winced; he hadn’t planned to tell them about Ilya today. He had wanted to tell them he had broke up with Rose and that he was gay, and he wanted to ease them into the rest of it. He was hoping he wouldn’t ever have to tell them about the fact that he had cheated.  

“Um, yeah, I am,” Shane admitted. “His name is Ilya, we’ve been together for a little while now.”  

Yuna raised her eyebrows at him. “Is he the reason –”  

She cut herself off, possibly because of the look on Shane’s face. He could feel his face heat up indignantly, waiting for her to finish.  

“Is he the reason I’m gay?” he asked sharply. ”No. Is he the reason I was brave enough to accept it? Yes.”  

“I’m sorry we didn’t know this was going on, Shane,” David said. Shane hated the tone he was using, like Shane was on the verge of a tantrum and he was trying to calm him down.  

Shane shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. “I didn’t even know it was going on. Not really.”  

“So, you and Rose are done,” Yuna stated.  

Shane nodded.  

“Is it because I gave you the ring?”  

“Yes and no,” Shane said. He wanted to be kind, but he also wanted to be honest. “I was already kind of – I knew that I was in love with someone else. The ring just kind of forced me to think about who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and it was pretty obvious from the second you gave it to me that it wasn’t Rose.”  

His parents were quiet as they took that in. Shane hoped they would have enough tact to not ask him too many questions while they were in public about everything.  

Yuna took the ring from the centre of the table and slipped it into her handbag. “Well, I’ll keep it for my grandchildren.”  

Shane rolled his eyes, but...it felt like a relief, hearing her make the same joke he had heard her make his entire life.  

They seemed to move past it, his dad urging them to talk about what to order for dinner and steering them onto work and hockey talk. It was nice, Shane thought, hearing that maybe not much would change.  

At least, until they were outside walking to the car park.  

“Shane,” Yuna said, grabbing his wrist gently. “We would love to meet Ilya.”  

Shane bit his lip, chewing on the sliver of skin that bore Ilya’s permanent mark. It felt a little too soon, mixing his worlds like this, but he nodded. “Yeah. Not right away, though.”  

Yuna opened her mouth to say something, but David interrupted gently.  

“Whenever you kids are ready,” he nodded, pulling Shane in for a hug. “It would just be nice to see you happy, properly.”  

Shane hugged his dad back and nodded, relief finally settling into his bones. “Okay. Soon, maybe.”  

He smiled as his mother pulled him in for a fierce hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  

Shane didn’t say anything as he hugged her back; it wasn’t okay, for a long time, but maybe it would be okay going forward. He'd forgive her, he knew he would. Not right away, maybe. But soon.  

“Okay, drive home safe,” Yuna said, patting him on the back.  

Shane climbed into his car and pulled out onto the main road, heading home, relieved to see Ilya. Four hours away from home felt like too long, these days.  

Chapter 7: Epilogue – Scar

Shane could hear low, distant muttering in his ear, but there was absolutely no way he would have been able to make the words out if his life depended on it. His limbs were too heavy to move, and his eyes were cloudy with tears that just wouldn’t stop.  

He could feel Ilya, though. All he could feel was Ilya.  

Ilya's lips against his neck, sucking and nipping at him. Ilya’s hands, pinching his nipples, pressing into his sides, digging into his hips. Ilya's cock, fucking him slow, so fucking slow.  

Ilya, Ilya, Ilya.  

“Shane,” he could make out Ilya saying as he kissed his ear.  

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t. His mouth didn’t work –  

Ilya kissed him, and Shane kissed back. So his mouth did work, thank god. Ilya was whispering something into his ear, but Shane couldn’t hear anything. He just wanted to lift his arms, to wrap them around Ilya, to hold him closer, to try and make him move faster.  

Shane felt Ilya bite his lip, hard. He groaned as Ilya bit down harder, tears falling harder.  

“Shane,” Ilya mumbled against his lips. “Open.”  

Shane frowned, trying to focus on the command. He hadn’t realised his eyes were closed. He looked up at Ilya, blurry through his wet lashes, but he could see that Ilya was beaming at him.  

“Shane,” Ilya said again, wiping at his eyes, so gently caressing his face.  

He could see him clearer now; Ilya’s hair was a complete mess, like a frizzy lions man. His eyes were blown wide, his blue irises barely visible. He was flushed bright red, sweaty and sticky, and Shane could have sworn his heart was beating so fast he could see his veins jumping in his neck.  

Shane made a soft sound when he noticed the soft smear of red on his lips. His cock twitched as he stared at Ilya, hardly able to believe that he was his.  

“Ilya,” he breathed.  

Ilya rewarded him with a kiss, the sharp metallic tang belying the tenderness of his touch. Shane kissed him back, moaning when Ilya rolled his hips hard, grinding into him.  

He tried to say something – what, he wasn’t sure – but Ilya kept his place slow and languid. If it weren't for his desperate pants, Shane would think he was unaffected.  

Shane’s arms finally moved, reaching up for Ilya’s hair. Ilya made a pleased sound as Shane ran his hands down his back and back up, trying to force the rest of his body to wake up and listen to him.  

“More,” Shane begged.  

Ilya gripped his face roughly, making Shane focus on him. He nodded, moving his hips quicker. Shane blinked as Ilya smacked him in the face, two sharp taps, before pressing his thumb between his lips.  

Shane felt drunk as he sucked, trying to do his best to please Ilya. He felt like he was only real where Ilya was touching him, only the sweet taste of his own blood proving to him that he was alive.  

Ilya tugged his mouth open, pressing down hard on his teeth, leaning down –  

He spat into Shane’s mouth.  

Shane keened as he swallowed, his throat clicking loudly with his mouth still being forced open. Ilya finally moved his hips faster as he let Shane suck on his thumb again, his heavy breaths getting louder, more desperate, needier as Shane hollowed his cheeks, rolling his hips up into Ilya’s, the pressure in his body building and building –  

He cried out as he came, the sound muffled as Ilya pressed his thumb down harder in his mouth. Shane gasped as Ilya worked him through his orgasm, his entire body melting as his eyes watered and his ears rang. He couldn’t hear a thing as his body burned, taut and tight, as Ila began pounding into him.  

Shane was too overstimulated for it; he tried to tap Ilya to get him to slow down, but Ilya just grabbed his wrists and pinned them by his head, bearing down on him. Shane thought he might be whimpering as Ilya sped up his thrusts, one of his wrists free as Ilya reached down to stroke his cock.  

He tried to buck Ilya off of him, but through his tears, he could see Ilya laugh and shake his head. Shane spread his legs wider, trying to get some sort of relief, as the coil in his stomach curled tighter. His entire body felt on edge, ready to snap –  

Ilya’s rhythm faltered as he came, his hips hammering into Shane erratically. Shane felt another orgasm wash over him as Ilya stroked his cock roughly, using his own come to jerk him off. Shane gasped for breath as Ilya shifted above him, pulling out before he laid next to him.  

Shane was sure he pouted when he registered Ilya was no longer inside him. Ilya must have sensed it, because he reached down and pressed two fingers inside him, keeping his come inside Shane.  

“Oh my god,” Shane murmured, unable to stop himself from grinding down on Ilya.  

He could feel Ilya chuckle next to him; Shane was glad he was already bright red, lest Ilya catch him blushing. Ilya kissed him slowly, his free hand caressing his face, his neck, his chest, running along his stomach soothingly. Shane slowly felt like he was coming back to himself as Ilya brought him back, finally able to hear the soft Russian words Ilya was whispering into his ear.  

“Moy khoroshiy mal'chik, chertovski seksual'nyy,” Ilya was saying.  

Shane smiled to himself; a couple of those words stood out. “Sexy good boy?” he guessed. 

“Mm,” Ilya hummed, kissing his cheek wetly. “You missed the most important word.”  

Shane shrugged, too tired to think about what he said. “What?”  

“Moy,” Ilya repeated, biting his shoulder playfully.  

Mine.  

Shane sighed as Ilya began moving his fingers inside him, closing his eyes as Ilya ran a hand through his hair.  

Shane really had thought Ilya had been joking when he’d told Shane to take the day off so they could celebrate his birthday like this, but Ilya had coaxed six orgasms out of him by lunch. Shane fleetingly worried about what this would look like in ten, twenty, forty years. There was no way his body could do this.  

“Two more,” Ilya said lowly. “Then we nap. Then I make you cry all night.”  

Shane huffed out a laugh as Ilya flipped Shane over onto his stomach and kissed his way down his spine, gasping as his tongue pressed against his hole.  

>>>  

He tried not to laugh as Ilya fidgeted with the tie, looking uncomfortable.  

“It’s too tight,” he grumbled.  

Svetlana sighed and said something in rapid fire Russian, too fast for Shane to follow. He thought he picked up behave and try harder and be nice and tight, and he refused to think about why those were the only words he understood.  

How often Ilya had said them to him, cooing them to him in the heat of the moment.  

“Shane, don’t you think?”  

Shane blinked, looking between them. “It looks great,” he tried.  

Svetlana looked like she had just won an argument as Ilya rolled his eyes, looking at Shane like he had betrayed him.  

“It’s too tight,” Ilya complained to Shane as Svetlana answered a call and stepped away.  

Shane looked him over, taking in the crisp white dress shirt clinging to his biceps, his muscles still clearly visible through the thick material. His eyes wandered down to his black slacks, admiring how his ass looked.  

“Yeah,” he said absently.  

By the time Shane looked at his face, Ilya was smirking, his eyebrow raised. “Pervert.”  

“Shut up,” Shane rolled his eyes. “You look good.”  

“I know,” Ilya smirked. “Boring black suit though.”  

“Oh, like you don’t look amazing in black,” Shane said.  

“Show me yours,” Ilya said.  

Shane shook his head; he was going to wear the grey suit he wore three years ago for Wattsy’s wedding that Ilya hadn’t seen him in yet. He just needed a new tie.  

“You’ll see it next week.”  

Ilya pouted as he looked at himself in the mirror, fussing with his collar.  

“Podkhodit, perestan' trogat',” Svetlana said, coming back and smacking Ilya’s hand away. 

Shane did his best not to blush at the fact that he most definitely understood it fits. Svetlana would surely never let him live that down.  

“I’m gonna go get a tie,” Shane said.  

“Grab some black ones!” Svetlana called out, the Russian bickering picking up behind Shane as he left the fitting rooms by the suit section and to the accessory wall around the corner.  

He was looking through the blue ties, comparing the shades, when he felt someone standing a little too close to him.  

“Shane?”  

He turned, smiling at the bright, happy eyes staring up at him.  

“Rose?”  

Rose threw her arms around him, laughing to herself. “Holy shit, how are you?”  

“Good,” he smiled.  

It was a relief, being genuinely happy to see Rose. He had spent years wishing he felt like this when he saw her.  

He hadn’t seen her in months, when they had both been at Amber’s birthday party. Ilya had stuck to Marleau and Svetlana that day, and Shane and Rose had shared a beer and caught up with each other. It had been fun, hearing about her job and her new nephew and how she was thriving. It had been nice to just be himself around her.  

“Suit shopping?” she asked.  

“Yeah, um, Ilya’s best man at Marleau’s wedding,” Shane said, gesturing to the changing rooms. “Final fittings.”  

“Oh, nice,” Rose smiled. “I’m buying John a tie for his birthday.”  

“Carrying on the tradition,” Shane remembered.  

Rose had bought her oldest brother the ugliest novelty tie she could find every year as a running joke. One year, Shane had helped her pick out a genuine piano key tie.  

“Of course,” she beamed. “What about you?”  

“Looking for a tie to wear with my grey suit,” he said.  

“The light one or the dark one?”  

“The light one.”  

Rose stood next to him, assessing his options. “Berry would be nice.”  

“I was thinking blue,” Shane said.  

Rose nodded, looking at the blues. “What kind of blue?”  

“Like, ocean-y, with depth, I don’t know,” Shane said.  

He heard Ilya scoff at Svetlana from thirty feet away, feeling him approach before he was near. Shane tensed slightly as Ilya came up behind them, feeling the way he slowed down when he saw Rose.  

“Hey Ilya,” Rose greeted, sounding as relaxed as ever, but Shane saw the way her eyes flashed with sadness for a moment. “How are the best man duties going?”  

“Rose,” Ilya said, his voice careful. “I will be glad when it’s over.”  

“Tell me about it,” Rose said sympathetically. “I’ve been a bridesmaid six times, it’s hell.”  

Shane looked over at Ilya, seeing his tight smile, and brushed his hand against his. He knew Ilya wasn’t threatened, but it wasn’t comfortable, to see the woman that they had both wronged so terribly. He smiled to himself when he realised Ilya had changed back into the Ducati t shirt with the tiny black stain on it that Ilya had claimed months ago.  

Rose reached out for two blue ties, holding them up and glancing over at them before she handed one to Shane.  

“That one,” she said confidently.  

Shane smiled, grabbing a hideous doughnut themed tie that he was sure John would unironically love. “For John.”  

Rose laughed, nodding as she looked it over. “Pleasure doing business with you.”  

Shane smiled as she winked at him, nodding goodbye to Ilya and heading to the register. He looked at the tie before looking up at Ilya, surprised that Rose had chosen a blue the exact shade of Ilya’s eyes.  

She had known what he was looking for before he did. Again.  

“Everything okay?” Ilya asked.  

Shane leaned in to kiss him softly before he nodded, grabbing his hand and walking back to the fitting room where Svetlana was holding up three identical black ties against Ilya’s blazer.  

“Perfect.”  

>>>  

Shane hadn’t expected to feel so emotional at Marleau and Svetlana’s wedding.  

He had teared up when he had seen Ilya stand by Svetlana at the altar. He had teared up when Ilya had shed a tear watching her share her first kiss with Marleau. He had teared up when Ilya had given his speech, talking about growing up in Moscow with Svetlana, and how she had helped him come to Canada and build a family here. He had teared up when they had danced together for the first time in front of their friends, overwhelmed by how romantic everything was.  

Tears finally spilled over when Ilya had kissed him in the middle of the dancefloor and casually mentioned that this was too many people, and that he hoped their wedding would be much smaller.  

“Our wedding?” Shane repeated, hardly able to believe his ears.  

“Mm,” Ilya said. “In Europe, everyone does weddings at ZAGS.”  

Shane frowned, confused.  

“Civil ceremony at government office,” Ilya explained. “No big weddings. More important to be married than to show off.”  

“I like that,” Shane said. “Just us, Svetlana and my parents, maybe.”  

“That sounds nice,” Ilya said, swaying to the music.  

“Would we get rings?” Shane asked.  

“Of course,” Ilya said. “I would need to take mine off for work though, which I hate. I would probably get a tattoo as well.”  

“Where?” Shane asked breathily.  

“On my ring finger,” Ilya said, wiggling his right hand. “So everyone would know.”  

Shane had felt the tears fall down his cheeks at that, imagining it.  

Ilya had come home with a tattoo last year, Cyrillic script on his hipbone underneath that favourite freckle of Shane’s. He had asked what it said, and Ilya had shrugged and told him to work it out.  

Shane had gotten out the Russian to English translator on his phone and thrown Ilya down on the bed to suck his dick desperately while he stared at the tattoo of his name, overwhelmed and more turned on than he had ever been.  

“I’d get one matching,” Shane said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady.  

Ilya looked at him, his face intense and loving, as he brushed his eye underneath Shane’s eyes and kissed him, much too intimately for the middle of someone else's wedding.  

“Deal.”  

>>>  

Shane groaned as he woke up, pushing away from Ilya. They were hot and sticky, and he could tell from the second he took a breath that they’d gone to bed drunk and without brushing their teeth.  

He sat up slowly, listening to Ilya’s heavy breaths, taking in the room around them.  

They’d been in their new place for over a year, but sometimes Shane missed the tightness of their old apartment. They'd clearly made a mess getting into bed in the early hours of the morning, clothes strewn all over the room, a shoe sitting on his bedside table.  

Shane sighed as he looked down at Ilya, frowning at the red marker scribbled on Ilya’s chest. Shane looked down at himself, rolling his eyes and immediately regretting it, his head aching.  

He hadn’t noticed Ilya wake up until he snorted, looking at Shane’s stomach.  

“What happened?”  

“Looks like we found a red sharpie and did whatever the fuck this was,” Shane said, pointing to the giant love heart in red permanent marker Ilya had drawn around his dick.  

Ilya laughed, clearly proud of himself. “You wrote your name on me a lot,” he said, pointing to his chest.  

Shane shook his head. “I guess we were feeling super romantic after the wedding.”  

Ilya hummed, pulled Shane down to lay with him again. “Was a good night.”  

Shane settled in next to him, tucking himself against Ilya’s chest. He laughed when he saw the flower petals drawn around Ilya’s nipples.  

“These are kind of cute,” Shane teased, pinching his nipple.  

“Maybe I get tattooed,” Ilya chuckled. “I like this one,” he said quietly, grabbing Shane’s hand and laying it flat on his chest.  

Shane looked up to see what he meant, his breath catching at the simple I drawn on his ring finger. Ilya laid his hand next to Shane’s, showing off the matching S Shane had drawn on in return.  

“I like those too,” Shane admitted. Feeling brave, hoping Ilya remembered their conversation before Hayden had made them mainline vodka shots last night, he said, “we should do that for real. When we get married.”  

Ilya was quiet. Shane looked up, forcing himself to look him in the eye, relaxing when he saw Ilya was smiling at him. He sat up, jostling Shane off him a bit as he reached into his nightstand and searched loudly for something, returning with a smug smile.  

Shane felt his entire body go lax when he saw the small black box Ilya had placed over his flowery nipple, raising an eyebrow.  

“If I asked?”  

“I’d say yes,” Shane said without skipping a beat.  

Ilya reached for the box, but Shane crawled on top of him and kissed him wildly. Ilya kissed him back just as desperately, both of them too far gone to control themselves.  

Shane was back on his back instantly, Ilya between his legs, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, working him open slowly before he finally pressed inside him.  

Shane felt insane, wild, his entire body burning, on fire with need and love and Ilya. Ilya seemed to feel it too, if the way he made love to Shane was any indication.  

It was perfect.  

Slow, languid, sexy, with Ilya murmuring moya lyubov and zhenikh into his ear.  

Ilya didn’t let him come, bringing him to the edge four times, Shane crying with desperation by the time Ilya finally began fucking him perfectly. Shane had spent so long on the edge, so long desperate to come, that he had started to float away. He felt like he was still drunk as Ilya kissed him, biting down hard on his lip, a bruise blooming instantly as he bled for Ilya.  

He reached out, desperately trying to grab onto something, needing to ground himself, to hold onto something, grateful when Ilya took his hand, intertwining their fingers and grasping tightly, a thumb brushing over his knuckles reassuringly.  

It was enough to bring him back to his body, to feel every single cell in his body burn with desire and sex, to stop him from sinking so far into the sheets and down to the floor.  

Ilya kissed him hard, passionately, as they came together, Shane crying out loudly for Ilya, reassured by the soft tinge of red on his lips.  

Shane moaned as Ilya’s hips slowed to a grind, reaching up to touch the tiny laceration inside his lip.  

He'd get a hundred more tattoos dedicated to Ilya.  

He looked at Ilya, his face so open and in love, his eyes dreamy and his lips stained, covered in Shane’s love, his life. Shane wished he could split himself open and show Ilya that every part of his body worked for Ilya, beat for Ilya. Every rush of blood was for Ilya.  

“I love you so fucking much,” Shane breathed, overwhelmed.  

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya said, leaning up to kiss him softly.  

Shane smiled into his kiss. He never wanted to stop kissing Ilya. His eyes caught on the tiny black box shoved in between the pillow and relief swept him. Shane nipped at Ilya, laughing when Ilya grabbed his face and nipped him back, snarling against his cheek like an animal as he kissed his way down his neck.  

He had the rest of his life to kiss Ilya. To live for him. To bleed for him.