Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Canon - Game Changers Series & Heated Rivalry (TV) Combination, Explicit Sexual Content, Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Cockwarming, oral cockwarming, Dom Shane Hollander, Sub Ilya Rozanov, Dry Humping, No Top/Bottom, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Established Relationship, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Soft Ilya Rozanov, good boy ilya rozanov, Dacryphilia, Facials, Cumshot, Aftercare, sex while on the phone, Grinding, passing out after sex, Ilya Rozanov is Whipped For Shane Hollander, and i mean WHIPPED

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-05 Words: 2,714 Chapters: 1/1

Business Meeting

Summary

“Let me warm you," said Ilya.

“What?”

“I go here”—Ilya pushed Shane backward on his rolly-chair to give him space to settle between his legs—“and warm you with my mouth. Then you can fuck my face when call is done.”

Shane really was no better than Ilya when it came to risky, try-not-to-get-caught sex, even if he wanted to act like he was.

Notes

“I have a business meeting in ten minutes, so don’t bother me.”

Of course, to Ilya Rozanov, those words were a challenge. He watched as Shane sat at his little office desk, adorable glasses perched on his freckle-spattered nose. His reflection shined off the lenses as he adjusted the camera to look pretty for his business partners.

Shamelessly, Ilya lowered himself onto all fours and crawled over to Shane until he was merely sitting next to his legs. He smiled up at him, surely the picture of innocence.

Shane didn’t seem to think so. “Ilya, no.”

Ilya’s grin widened. “I think Ilya, yes.”

With a quick glance at the time, Shane let out an exasperated breath. “No, Ilya. This one is important.”

Ilya pouted, but his defeat was quickly replaced by a flash of genius. “Let me warm you.”

“What?”

“I go here”—Ilya pushed Shane backward on his rolly-chair to give him space to settle between his legs—“and warm you with my mouth. Then you can fuck my face when call is done.”

“Or we could just wait,” Shane said, but Ilya could tell from his tone he wasn’t fully on-board with that, anymore.

“I will not suck,” Ilya promised, holding his hand up as though swearing a pledge. “I will not do anything but warm. Pinky-promise.”

Shane chewed his bottom lip, eyes darting to the time again. He had just a minute before he had to join the meeting. “You won’t suck? At all?” Ilya nodded. “You’re just gonna sit there with my cock in your mouth?” Ilya nodded again. “You’re really not gonna try to mess with me, like that one phone call with Hayden?”

“I pinky-promise,” Ilya repeated, holding out his pinky and grabbing Shane’s arm, forcing him to loop pinkies with him. “Now take your dick out.”

Shane snorted, but he was already taking off his bottoms and carefully folding them, exposing himself from the waist down. From the waist up through Shane’s camera, he looked put-together and prepared for a serious meeting. Ilya could feel saliva pooling in his mouth—little did they know—and he grinned up at Shane, pressing one tiny kiss to the head before enveloping it with his mouth.

A hiss escaped Shane at the sudden sensation, and his breath hitched before letting out a long exhale. “Okay,” he said, voice strained yet firm. “Okay, no funny business, and I mean it, or no sex for the rest of the week.”

Ilya’s stomach did a flip, knowing that Shane had the discipline to follow through with that punishment. He grunted to affirm he understood, which may not have been the best decision because another noise of hardly-restrained arousal escaped Shane. Ilya could feel him hardening in his mouth, and could feel himself hardening down below in response as well.

“Oh,” Shane added, voice light, “and no touching yourself.”

Shane didn’t give Ilya even a second to react to that before the ping of joining a call resounded. “Hey guys, hope you weren’t waiting long…”

Suddenly, Ilya didn’t feel in control anymore. This was supposed to be his game, where he flustered Shane and turned him all sorts of pretty shades of pink. Shane wasn’t supposed to turn it on its head back at him. Shane was supposed to be the one who took work seriously and got blushy whenever they tried anything adventurous like this. 

Unfortunately, though, Ilya had to admit it was very, very hot. His hands remained balled in tight fists on his thighs as Shane’s cock, now mostly hard, sat heavily in his mouth. Sitting here like this was impossibly heady, Shane’s scent and taste clouding his brain. He felt foggy, his senses full of nothing but Shane.

Shane was speaking, but it was nothing more than background static in Ilya’s ears. All he could think about was the cock in his mouth, filling his mouth completely and flooding his taste buds so perfectly, and he wasn’t even allowed to blow it. He couldn’t move his tongue, couldn’t even give the tiniest suck, couldn’t move at all. Couldn’t even touch himself. 

Ilya’s eyelids fluttered shut as he tried to distract himself, but every deep inhale through his nose reminded him that he was nestled up against Shane’s crotch, docilely waiting for Shane’s meeting to end. He slowly shifted his position, just to rest his cheek against Shane’s thigh since his neck was getting stiff. Shane showed no sign of reacting, no sign that he had even noticed the change. No sign that Ilya was there at all. Something about that thought, the thought that Shane could just ignore him so easily, sent heat rushing to his erection below, filling out in his boxers even further.

The longer Ilya sat there, the louder the thought became that being here was… kind of nice. Not doing anything except relaxing, warming his boyfriend’s cock with his mouth. It was a different kind of intimacy, but a welcome one. He could move, could mess around with Shane—and knowing Shane, he probably would be into it—but Ilya wouldn’t. He was fine right where he was, doing nothing but acting like a warming sleeve for his boyfriend’s dick.

Shane’s voice was a low, constant rumble in the back of Ilya’s mind. Ilya’s eyelids were cracked open ever so slightly, but he wasn’t really seeing, his vision blurred beyond comprehension. He thought his eyes might be a little wet, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have any reason to see, anyway, didn’t have any reason to do anything more than keep his mouth open. That was all he was good for right now, and that was fine. That was all he needed. He was perfectly fine with—no, perfectly happy with being nothing more than a hole for Shane to use.

Then he felt a change. Shane’s hand fell into his hair. He didn’t do anything with it, just let it rest there. Ilya roused ever so slightly, breathing stuttering just a little, but he quickly relaxed back into his calm, floaty state. Having Shane’s hand on his head was grounding, a reminder that he was still there, that there was an end goal beyond this tranquil ecstasy.

After a few minutes, Shane’s nails began gently scratching over Ilya’s scalp, soothing and comforting in a way Ilya didn’t realize he’d needed. It was so nice and comforting, and he leaned further into Shane’s touch. It made him feel safe in a way he had never known before. Ilya didn’t think he would mind if this video call never ended. If he could just stay here, with Shane’s cock in his mouth, forever, he would die a happy man. 

“Look at you,” Shane murmured almost reverently, his grip on Ilya’s hair tightening. Ilya’s eyes shot up—Shane was still smiling pleasantly at the camera, but his gaze would occasionally drift downward. His mic was definitely muted for him to be not just doing, but initiating something so risky. “You’re being so good today.”

And Ilya really didn’t mean to, but the words sent a wave of arousal throughout his body, ripping him out of his serene state and tearing a whine out of him. Shane groaned as well, the sound still restrained, but knowing that he had loosened Shane up to let out any noise at all when he was on a business call did things to Ilya, whose formerly blurred gaze was now focused solely on Shane.

“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane breathed, lips hardly moving as he spoke. Ilya could hear the barely-concealed passion behind them all the same. His grip in Ilya’s hair tightened further, and Ilya was trying so hard to be good and not react, but he couldn’t help the way his breathing shifted.

This seemed to be the reaction Shane was looking for, though. Unmuting briefly to say, “Yeah, I really like the second one. I think it suits our purposes better,” and muting again, he raised his hips lightly, pushing his cock deeper down Ilya’s throat with no warning.

Ilya’s hands snapped around Shane’s calves like a springlock, tightly gripping them for purchase as Shane began dragging Ilya up and down his length. Perfect, golden boy Shane was guiding Ilya to blow him during his important business call, and Ilya was taking it like a good little fleshlight. They both were rubbing off on each other, it seemed.

One of Shane’s legs suddenly moved, slotting itself between Ilya’s thighs. The front of his ankle pressed up against Ilya’s clothed erection, and Ilya moaned, resisting the urge to hump it. Shane hadn’t told him he could, yet, and Shane telling him he was doing good had done things to him. He needed to hear it again.

What Shane did do was drag his ankle up and down Ilya’s clothed erection, making Ilya’s grip on Shane’s calves tighten further as poorly-suppressed whimpers leaked out of him. Shane hadn’t scolded him for making noise before, but now, he softly chastised, “Quiet. I’m almost done.”

Ilya felt pathetic tears prick the corners of his eyes as he absorbed Shane’s words, putting all of his energy into obeying despite Shane’s motions becoming more intentional. He was emphatic with every grind against Ilya’s cock, and Ilya needed more than anything he had ever needed before to stay quiet for Shane. To be good for Shane. 

“Yeah, thanks so much for today, you guys,” Ilya distantly heard Shane say. “I really appreciate this opportunity. You know where to contact me once we’re ready for the next phase.”

Then, like the trumpets of heaven, Ilya heard the ping of a call ending, and his watery eyes expectantly stared up at Shane.

He took a second to slide the cover over the webcam before standing, hand dragging Ilya upward to follow the motion so he was no longer resting on his haunches. His hands rose to the dip of Shane’s waist, tightly gripping, and he watched Shane box him in, his other hand gripping the table next to Ilya’s head.

“God, Ilya,” Shane panted, suddenly revealing how pent-up he had been the whole time. “Fuck, your mouth is so good.”

Another surge of heat washed through Ilya; Shane was so composed throughout the meeting, and here he was falling apart so quickly. Shane took a second longer to sit in the new position before he was pulling back until only his head was in Ilya’s mouth and slamming back in.  

Ilya braced his back up against the leg of the table, wantonly moaning around Shane’s cock as he fucked his face. His throat felt battered with every thrust—Ilya was certain his voice would be hoarse after this. The tears that had accumulated in his eyes had begun spilling over, and all he could do was hang onto Shane and stare up at him for dear life.

“Fuuuck,” Shane groaned, stuttering his motions for just a second. “Are you okay?” When Ilya vigorously nodded, Shane swallowed, nodding as well. “Okay, okay. Good.” He began thrusting into Ilya’s mouth again, and after a particularly hard, feral thrust, he had grunted, “You’re so—fuck, Ilya, you’re so pretty when you cry.” 

Shane was so beautiful like this, losing himself and taking what he wanted from Ilya the way Ilya normally did to Shane. And Ilya fucking loved it, loved how Shane had grown from letting Ilya take the lead every time they had sex to feeling confident enough to grab the reins every once in a while. And he especially loved the feeling of Shane’s hard cock slamming against the back of his throat.

His grip in Ilya’s hair tightened, moans growing more urgent, and he gasped, “Fuck, Ilya, take your dick out.”

Ilya had honestly forgotten about his own erection pressing up against his boxers; apparently, Shane had managed to fuck the brains out of him in record time. He quickly obeyed, a relieved moan escaping him once he was free from his constraints. He almost wrapped a hand around it, but looked up, awaiting further instruction.

When Shane noticed, another moan was torn out of him at Ilya’s complete obedience. “Yeah, touch—touch yourself. Just don’t come yet.”

And Ilya quickly realized he would have difficulty with that, because the second his hands made contact with his cock, his nerves were set alight and he felt like even a touch more would send him hurtling over the edge. But Shane had told him to, and it felt so fucking good, so he wasn’t stopping.

Shane suddenly fell backward onto the chair, taking his cock out of Ilya’s mouth. “Ilya,” Shane urgently panted, patting his shin as his other hand started to furiously jerk himself off.

It took Ilya a second, but once it registered what he was telling him to do, he crawled over and began humping his now-exposed dick against Shane’s leg again. He gripped Shane’s thigh and the chair for purchase, moaning freely now that his mouth was empty.

“Fuck, ah, Shane—” Ilya groaned, voice low and gravelly. He could hear his accent come out thicker than usual, but he couldn’t be bothered to split his focus for such a menial thing. “Shane, please, I’m so close, I need…”

Shane’s hand moved up and down his cock faster, guiding the head so it was pointed toward Ilya. “Come for me, Ilya, go ahead and come—”

Ilya felt himself let go at the same time he watched Shane explosively finish, cum shooting out of his cock and splattering all over Ilya’s face and chest. He repeated Shane’s name over and over again, entangling it with a list of slurred expletives in both English and Russian as he went limp against the leg of the table that was once supporting him when he was getting face-fucked. He lightly palmed his dick, seeing himself through the final aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

“Hey, Ilya,” Shane’s soft voice floated into his ears. He felt the caress of his fingers brushing against Ilya’s cheek. “You with me?”

Ilya took a second more to even out his breathing before cracking his eyes open. Shane had somehow gotten a washcloth—had Ilya lost consciousness?—and was carefully dragging it over Ilya’s face, cleaning the mess of cum and tears. Ilya could only let out an affirmative grunt.

With Shane so close, he couldn’t help but tease him a little, his tongue darting out to lick some of the cum that had splattered near his mouth, eyes never leaving Shane’s. Shane’s cheeks flushed even more than they already were, adorable freckles growing more and more obscure in a field of red, and he let out an exhale as he finished wiping down Ilya’s face before moving onto his chest.

“Does your throat feel okay?” Shane quietly asked.

“Mm, no,” Ilya answered honestly. At Shane’s worried expression, Ilya continued, “Is sexy.”

“Your throat hurting is sexy?”

“My throat hurting from you fucking my face so aggressive is very sexy,” Ilya affirmed. Shane let out an unintelligible grumble, blushing even more. Ilya smirked, nuzzling into Shane’s neck to pepper a few kisses. “You were a very bad boy, Hollander. I thought I was supposed to be the bad one.”

“Well, Rozanov,” Shane pointedly said, eyes fixated on Ilya’s chest where he was just about done cleaning him up, “you were a very good boy.”

“Only for you,” Ilya winked, hoping the blush that was spreading over his own cheeks wasn’t noticeable.

Shane, however, seemed to consider this. “I think we should… try something like this. Again. In a more… controlled environment.”

Ilya blinked, but his lips split into a wide grin. He loved it when Shane suggested literally anything, or was forward in any way. “Yes, I agree.”

Shane had dragged Ilya into the shower after that, his tender hands helping Ilya wash himself before the two of them collapsed into bed in a mess of tangled limbs and lazy makeouts. Shane held him close, and Ilya allowed himself to be held, eyes fluttering shut and falling into a state of peacefulness with his resting on Shane’s chest, slow heart beating like a metronome.

You’re being so good today. You were a very good boy.

Yeah, Ilya wouldn’t mind letting Shane take the lead more often at all.