Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Car Sex, Sex in a Car, Blow Jobs in a Car, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Light Dom/sub, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Shane Hollander, Top Ilya Rozanov, Porn With Plot, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Freak4Freak Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Roleplay, Established Relationship, Established Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-12 Words: 16,340 Chapters: 5/5

Drive it Real Far

Summary

4 times Shane and Ilya hook up in their car while keeping their love a secret, plus 1 where they're finally out

Notes

this fic was inspired originally by the simple concept of "car sex", but transformed into using that premise as a vehicle (haha) for the evolution of their relationship

shout out to my queen tracy chapman for the chapter title

Chapter 1: You Got a Fast Car

Boston - March 2018

“I’m not getting in that car when you’re looking at me like that.” Shane gestured to the mischievous grin that was currently painted on Ilya's face as he held open the door of his matte black McLaren for Shane to get in the passenger’s seat. 

What a gentleman.

It was late, and the two of them were bored. They had already eaten dinner, started a movie, and subsequently got distracted and fucked on the couch, which led to them neglecting to finish said movie. But they both had the whole weekend in between games, a rare occurrence, and Shane was absolutely relishing the freedom of feeling bored. It was not something often afforded to them in the last almost-decade, stealing mere hours together for years until they finally were able to admit what they both so desperately wanted. 

It had been almost a year since their confession at the cottage, and every time Ilya and Shane had the opportunity to be together, it was like they were meeting each other for the first time all over again. The world had a new light to it, even when doing the most mundane things together. Even something as innocuous as ordering takeout from Shane’s favorite sushi restaurant in Montreal for Ilya to try seemed monumental, like he could finally show Ilya all the parts of himself he thought he never would. 

“Just a quick drive, sweetheart,” Ilya all but whined, “I’ll go really slow. I promise. 20 miles per hour under the speed limit.” The gleam in his boyfriend’s eye did nothing to convince Shane he planned on keeping his word. “Besides, I won tonight, I want this as my reward.”

Shane rolled his eyes. He would have much rather just stayed at Ilya’s house. His personal idea of unwinding was mostly limited to watching a random documentary, playing cards, or just cuddling. Since they weren’t out yet, they couldn’t exactly go for a date night out on the town. Ilya usually seemed just as content to spend those precious evenings holed up in their bubble. 

Except for when Shane stayed in Boston. Shane’s car windows weren’t tinted, so it wasn’t like he could drive them around in Montreal. So they stayed hidden, tucked away behind the gates of his property. Safe. But Ilya felt emboldened by the thin layer of security the darkness of night and blacked out windows afforded them. Shane could understand it, the desire to be a normal couple, but as two of the most famous hockey players in the NHL, they were far from anything one could consider normal.

Driving around one of his many expensive sports cars was Ilya’s favorite “nighttime activity,” other than the obvious. Shane had begrudgingly accompanied him on these outings a couple times already, after much deliberation, but even still he was always wary of being caught as Ilya Rozanov’s passenger princess by a random fan hiding at a red light. 

The tinted windows of his sports cars granted them a luxury they were rarely ever afforded outside – going out in public together. Shane wished it excited him like it did Ilya, but a tension always hung over his head every time they did it. But it seemed like tonight Ilya wasn’t taking no for an answer. Besides, Ilya wouldn’t be living in Boston much longer, and Shane felt a pang of guilt knowing that Ilya wouldn’t be able to explore the Massachusetts countryside anymore. 

“It is like…11pm! No one will see!” When Shane crossed his arms in a display of weak defiance, Ilya doubled down harder. “C’mon, Shane, we already watched your stupid documentary on penguins, I want to do my thing now.”

“Hey!” Shane feigned offense, “I thought you liked the penguins!”

“I do.” Ilya smiled earnestly, as he reached for Shane’s hand. And how could Shane say no when Ilya looked at him like that. 

–

“So where are we going?” Shane tried to ignore the deep rumble of the engine as Ilya turned the key. There was one time these drives had resulted in a legitimate argument, where Ilya had gone too fast around a corner for Shane’s liking, and he accused his boyfriend of being reckless. To which Ilya had responded, ‘I thought you knew this’, which was not the apology Shane was looking for. But ever since then, Ilya had made a noticeable effort to reign in his need for speed. At least when he was driving his boyfriend around. Precious cargo, Ilya had teased.

“You’ll see. Surprise.” He moved to turn on some music, and an artist Shane only knew because of Ilya began to blare from the speakers. The bass from the heavy rap began to vibrate Shane’s seat, but Ilya turned it down to a reasonable level before Shane could start to complain. 

“You do this a lot when I’m not around? Drive off into the night in one of your million cars?” A million was an exaggeration - there were like 12, maybe. Still too many in Shane’s opinion. 

They pulled out of Ilya’s garage at a restrained speed, which made Shane smile. While Ilya had more adrenaline-junky tendencies, in the mind of Shane Hollander, any risk was something to always be heavily calculated. So while Shane understood the allure of a fast car, he much preferred his dependable SUVs, even with all of Ilya’s griping about his “mom-mobile.” 

“I used to,” Ilya said casually, “I was thinking maybe I should sell these before moving to Ottawa. Like you said, some cars are not good in the snow.”

“So you’re taking them out now as a kind of last goodbye?” 

“Yes, like giving a dog steak before going to the vet the next day to put it down,” Ilya laughed.

“Jesus, llya.” Shane hoped that wasn’t how he actually felt about his impending trade to Ottawa. Shane knew he was giving up a lot for him. For them. Almost Ilya’s entire time in the United States had been based in Boston, and for someone like Shane, who hated change, it was unfathomable his boyfriend would make a move of that magnitude in order to see each other maybe a handful of weeks out of the season. It was almost too much to comprehend. 

Any evidence of their relationship had been sequestered to hotel rooms and summers at the cottage. Hidden, unobservable. But Ilya’s move to Ottawa was tangible, and would make significant waves in the real world.

The scenery changed quickly from cityscape to forest as Ilya maneuvered the car deftly around winding turns, only removing his hand from Shane’s as he shifted gears. As they began to climb in elevation, weaving in a zig-zag pattern up a hill, Shane’s thoughts began to spiral.

Shane knew Ilya had liked Boston, liked his teammates enough to have developed a close friendship with them outside of hockey. Would he fit in place with the Centaurs like he did with the Raiders? His boyfriend had built quite the reputation, and while he was sure a struggling team like Ottawa was thankful for his talent, Shane only prayed his future teammates would appreciate him in the room as much as they would on the ice. 

Sometimes Shane felt like only he could see how truly special Ilya was, and it chiseled away at him every time one of his teammates talked shit about him in the locker room. “He’s not actually like that!” Shane wanted to scream when J.J. would lament what an fucking asshole Rozanov was. “It’s all an act!” But he couldn’t, because it would give away the secret they were both so desperately guarding.

Ilya turned right suddenly onto a nondescript road Shane would have never noticed even if he was looking for it. The canopy of trees obscured any light from the moon as Ilya’s headlights paved the way through the forest.

“You’re gonna murder me?” Shane joked.

“Maybe.” Ilya could barely suppress his grin. 

“Wow, I knew all this was too good to be true.”

“Yes, a whole plot to seduce my rival so years later I could finally rid myself of him.”

Finally, the trees gave way to a clear sky, the stars revealing themselves to be a bit brighter away from the light pollution of the city. Ilya put the car in park and gestured to the skyline of Boston in the distance. The view was sweeping and unobstructed, and Shane couldn’t believe it wasn’t packed with people trying to escape the city for a moment of quiet. It felt like Ilya was letting Shane in on a secret only he knew.

“How did you find this place?” Shane asked. 

“I went driving a lot,” Ilya shrugged, “Before…”

“Before us?” 

“Well, during us, but before last summer.” 

“Oh?” Spelling things out explicitly and directly was usually Ilya’s strong suit – specifically in the bedroom. So Shane knew Ilya dancing around what he really wanted to say really meant he was uncomfortable with the topic at hand. He knew Ilya didn’t mean to speak obtusely to confuse Shane, who had always had a hard time reading between the lines of implied meaning, but rather needed a push to say the thing he wanted to really say.

“What is that thing with the dog where you ring a bell and your mouth waters?” Ilya asked, interrupting a clarifying question that sat on Shane’s tongue.

“The Pavlov experiment?” Shane scrunched his brow, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“Yes,” Ilya continued, “I am getting that feeling whenever I come up here. But with a cigarette.” 

“So you used to come up here to smoke? A pretty long drive just for that.” 

Ilya stared wistfully out at the view, opening his mouth and then closing it again, like he was unsure if anything was supposed to come out. 

“Hey,” Shane reached his hand over to thread his fingers through his boyfriend’s curls, stroking the back of his head for encouragement.

“I would drive around, and one time I found this spot,” Ilya finally said. “I started coming when I didn’t want to be alone in my house. And I would come here a lot of nights when I was… missing you. Even though I wasn’t supposed to have you.” 

Shane’s heartbeat faltered at the thought of Ilya yearning for him, and a deep sadness washed over his body, settling in his chest. If only they had known how badly they were pining for each other, if only they had both just been braver, or stupider, they could have spared themselves the torture all those years. 

While Shane didn’t drive around an expensive sportscar at odd hours of the night to deal with his previously-believed unrequited feelings for his rival, he would often lay awake at night staring at his ceiling as his heart twisted with need for Rozanov. A need that utterly consumed him in the months they were apart. 

“So I would just sit here and smoke a cigarette and think of you,” Ilya smiled, but it was more like a grimace, “Very sad, embarrassing story, right?” 

“Thank you for telling me,” Shane reassured, “And that’s not even embarrassing, it’s actually really sweet.” Ilya’s cheeks flushed, as if him being soft was something only recently discovered by Shane. “If you knew half the stuff I did to cope with wanting you…”

“I can think of a few things you probably did to cope.”   

“Fuck off!” There was no heat behind Shane’s retort, as Ilya grabbed his hand to place a kiss to the back of his palm. While they were still keeping their love hidden from the world, it felt so, so good to not have to hide from each other. To speak openly about their suffering before they were finally able to say those three words that changed everything for them. Shane thought he would never be able to talk about those years to anyone, and now he could, with the person that understood it the most.

Both men stayed in the car, not making a move to open the door and experience the view unencumbered by the roof of Ilya’s car. Even though it seemed pretty remote, there was still a chance someone could drive down the narrow road and find them there. But Shane had the feeling if he reached for the door handle, Ilya would follow suit. 

“Why did you want to take me here?” Shane knew there were reasons beyond Ilya simply wanting to show him the view. 

“Maybe to say goodbye to this chapter, like the cars,” Ilya’s voice was softer than it had been, “And maybe to show you that not all memories here in Boston were good. That I am happy to move on. New leaf, or whatever you say.” 

Shane felt something twist in his chest at Ilya’s admission. It was no secret Shane had been anxious about Ilya’s move, constantly asking his boyfriend if he was sure about this a million times over the last year before his contract in Ottawa was finalized. Ilya always answered yes with conviction, but Shane couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his fault his boyfriend was abandoning his life in Boston – and it technically was. He came up with the idea.

Shane was so excited about Ilya moving closer, of course. It was the second best option besides Ilya getting drafted to Montreal. But there was an underlying guilt Shane felt wash over him every time they discussed it. The Ottawa Centaurs had a historically bad record, and all the sports podcasts and analysts on ESPN could talk about was why a legend like Ilya Rozanov would all but debase himself to move to a team that lost more games than they won. That was the main reason Shane couldn't let go of the sour feeling in his gut.  

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.” Shane’s voice was choked as he fought the barrage of tears that welled at his waterline. He knew logically he was being irrational, but he couldn’t help it. At his core, Shane did truly believe that Ilya wanted this as much as he did. But he hadn't experienced a five-game losing streak, hadn’t played on a team where no one was near his level, hadn’t played a home game in a stadium that couldn’t fill their seats even if they gave out tickets for free. Shane was terrified that once Ilya realized this, really and truly realized this, that he would believe he had made a mistake.

“I am happy, and I will be even happier when I am closer to you. That is all I want, Shane.” Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane best he could over the center console of the car, hugging him tight as he pressed a kiss to his temple. Every time Ilya validated him about his decision, Shane had felt lighter, but this moment felt deeper than the others. The move date was scheduled, the contact was signed. No turning back. All other times they talked about this, the trade had been an amorphous thing far out on the horizon. Anyone could make promises about something when it wasn’t real yet. But this was.

“All you want?” Shane needed to lighten the mood before he started sobbing in his boyfriend’s arms. 

“Well, maybe not all.” Ilya cupped Shane’s cheeks with his hands as he pulled him into his lips, kissing him slowly as though they had all the time in the world, licking at the seams of Shane’s lips to pry him open. Shane parted his mouth to make way for Ilya’s tongue, gliding his own against his lazily. Kissing Ilya like this was maybe one of Shane’s favorite things. When they had kissed in the past, it was always frantic and hurried, like the timer on their moments together was ticking away the second they embraced. It had felt gluttonous to ask for slow and tender, when they barely had the time for ripping each other’s clothes off before falling into bed. But now there was no countdown, and they could have this forever. 

Shane moaned softly into Ilya’s mouth, unable to suppress his unyielding desire for Ilya even when not doing anything more than kissing. Ilya hummed in response, deepening the kiss and devouring Shane whole. Ilya’s gentle palming of his face was at odds with the way Shane gripped into his curls, like he was grounding himself in their embrace. Shane needed Ilya so badly even when he had him, and the desire to be even closer overwhelmed any inhibitions as he pressed against him closer.

Ilya broke the kiss after uncounted minutes to stare at him, hair mussed from raking fingers and lips glistening and red from Shane’s biting and suckling. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his deep blue eyes boring into Shane as he said it. Ilya continued to hold his gaze, saying with his eyes everything else Shane needed to hear. I want this. I will do anything for this.

“I love you too, so much.” Shane wasn’t sure there were adequate words to describe what he felt for Ilya, in English, French, or Russian, but he knew Ilya understood the magnitude of their devotions anyway.

“Thank you.”

Shane furrowed his brow in confusion. “What for?”

Ilya kissed him again, his lips meeting Shane’s softly before speaking into his mouth. “Because now every time I think of this place, this is the memory that I will think of first.”

Shane hugged Ilya tighter, grasping at his shoulders as he tried to drag himself closer. The center console dug into his ribs, but he didn’t care. The discomfort was worth whatever he could get from Ilya. Ilya hugged him back, his long arms wrapping around Shane’s back as they held each other in desperate silence. 

They both knew what was looming. There were only a few more weeks until playoffs, Shane’s favorite and least favorite time of year. It was when the culmination of all his sweat, bruises, and blood came to a head and he had the opportunity to show the world, and himself, what he had worked so hard for. But it was also the time of year where they would go weeks without seeing one another, barely having time to call between games, flights, and collapsing onto a hotel room bed from exhaustion. 

“I guess this is the last chance for me to beat you while you’re still a Boston Raider.” Shane always found it was easy to revert to that comfortable place of baiting Ilya Rozanov.

“Ah,” Ilya mused, “I try to be all romantic, and this is who I get— ”

“And who’s that?”

“Shane Hollander, the asshole.”

“Fuck you!” It was amazing how fond Shane’s voice could sound while saying those words.

“It is our year, though, everyone is saying it,” Ilya continued, “My team really wants to give their captain a good send off. The cup is ours this year.” The cocky lilt in his voice had all but melted away.

Shane, not knowing how to respond, kissed him again quickly. “Let’s go back home, yeah? But thank you for taking me here.” Ilya nodded in response and started the car.

Shane couldn’t bring himself to banter anymore. While he wanted the cup desperately, the three wins he already racked up had no dampening effect on his hunger for it, if the Metros were knocked out of the running, there would be another opportunity for him down the line. But the silence that lingered on the drive home all but screamed that while Shane had the rest of his career to chase the cup, this post-season could very well be Ilya’s last chance for the rest of his life.  

Chapter 2: Shut Up and Drive

Montreal - November 2018

It wasn’t a big deal, really. Dinner with an ex would typically be something to be concerned about, but when your gay boyfriend’s ex was a woman, that was another thing. Something Ilya could be okay with – should be okay with. Regardless, Ilya couldn’t help but check his phone over and over again waiting for Shane to text him to pick him up. 

Ottawa and Montreal had just played a disastrous game (on the Centaurs' part) against one another just hours before, one that had been rescheduled due to an earlier snow storm that made the short drive between the cities impossible. But the rescheduled game happened to fall on a planned dinner date between Shane and his ex-turned-best-friend, Rose Landry, which interfered with Shane and Ilya’s usual post-game ritual.

Shane had told Ilya he would cancel on Rose, but Ilya knew how little he got to see his actress friend. Both her and Shane’s schedules were insane, and it would be months again before they could see one another, so Ilya insisted he go. Because he was a good boyfriend. 

It was getting increasingly hard to shoulder the secret they both bore, so Ilya was happy Shane had someone who knew he was gay, making Rose one of the few people who knew him on that deeper level. Ex or not, Ilya was grateful to Rose Landry for that. He was also grateful that when Shane went to dinner with Rose Landry, he usually would have not one but two (gasp) beers, which always left his goodnight texts sounding extra flirty. It was good for Shane to loosen up once in a while.

Jane: We’re paying the bill if you wanna leave now :) 

Finally.

Ilya climbed into his newly purchased Lamborghini Urus (with heavily tinted windows, for obvious reasons). The SUV was a more practical choice compared to his other sportscars, but not entirely boring like Shane’s 10 year old Land Rover. Ilya liked to be at least a bit flashy.

He had driven himself to Montreal, telling his team he had to do some work for their charity with “Hollander” after their game. It was a good excuse, one he barely felt guilty using, not if it afforded him an extra night with his boyfriend. 

When he pulled to the curb of the restaurant, he saw Shane standing alone, undoubtedly sending Rose Landry on her way before she could catch a glimpse of the mysterious driver her ex-boyfriend was hailing a ride from. Shane’s face lit up when he saw him, the red flush of his cheeks confirming that yes, he definitely had those two beers. He looked around quickly to make sure no one was close by before stepping up to the car.

“Uber for Shane?” he asked as he opened the door, grinning from ear to ear. Shane hopped in quickly, letting out a sharp gasp as he plopped himself into the passenger seat. Okay, maybe he had more than the two drinks.

Ilya grinned, more than happy to play along with his boyfriend’s games. “Yes, where am I taking you tonight, sir?” He took great pleasure in the blush that deepened over Shane’s freckled cheeks.

“Home. Do you need the address?” 

No, Ilya thought, I know where home is.

“How’s your night going? Lots of rides?” Shane was really leaning into this.

“Is fine. A bit boring so far, but I think that is changing now.”

“No unruly customers? All very well behaved?” 

God. “So far so good. You will not be giving me any problems, will you Mr. Hollander?”

Shane's answer was a deviant smile that all but threatened to have Ilya veering off the side of the road and taking his boyfriend in some low-lit parking lot. But two could indulge this game of temptation.

Ilya pretended not to notice the way Shane shifted in his seat, antsy for something Ilya was already itching desperately to give him. It had been two weeks since they’d seen each other off the ice, and the game earlier was all but foreplay for the night Ilya envisioned for them. But if this is how Shane wanted to play things, Ilya was more than happy to wait a bit longer for what he wanted.

“Early night for you, even after a big win?” 

“You watched the game?”

“Yes, I am a big fan of Shane Hollander.” Shane’s eyes lit up, but Ilya couldn’t let him have all that praise, it would surely go to his head. “You’re a good player, not the best, maybe, but pretty good.”

“Wow,” Shane laughed, “Keep talking like that and you’re not gonna get a tip from me.” 

“I don’t think I am the one supposed to be getting a tip tonight, Mr. Hollander.” 

“Do you want to drive a little faster? I’m quite eager to get back, actually.” With the way Shane was staring at him, Ilya was also eager to get back, like, immediately. He loved when Shane was impatient. Usually Ilya had the restraint to make him beg for it, but it had been long enough that he knew he would have no control over getting his hands on his boyfriend the moment he was able. The only reason why he wasn’t unravelling him that instant was the fact he was currently going 35 miles per hour down a busy street. 

He needed to distract himself from the fuck-me eyes Shane was currently trying to taunt him with. “So, how did your date go?” It was hard for Ilya to keep his focus on the road as he felt Shane’s piercing gaze fixated on his face.

“I mean, it was with a super famous, sexy actress…” Ilya finally turned to look at Shane, almost unbelieving he was provoking him like this. Shane loved to tease him about his illogical jealousy of Rose Landry, only bringing her up like this in select moments to really get Ilya riled up.   

“But…” 

Shane smiled slyly, raking his fingers through his hair that he had grown out in recent months. Ilya wanted to grab him by the strands and force him to meet his lips. But he was driving, so he just gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles going white with sheer desperation to keep them safely at 10-and-2. “But…she wasn’t what I needed.” 

“And what does Shane Hollander, famous hockey player, need?” 

Ilya finally merged onto the freeway, which meant there was only about 10 minutes between now and the exact moment when he would finally have his hands all over his boyfriend. He wanted to give Shane exactly what he asked for, whatever it was. Ilya would always fall over himself to please Shane however he needed.

“That’s a bit forward of you to ask, sir,” Shane retorted, throwing the word back in Ilya’s face. Ilya liked it, maybe a bit too much. Without a second thought, his right hand moved from the wheel to possessively grip Shane’s muscular thigh before trailing his hand up Shane’s leg. He hooked his thumb into the hinge of his hip and let the rest of his fingers curl around the swell of his ass, squeezing hard. 

“Just want to make sure you’re comfortable, Mr. Hollander.” Ilya could hear how rough his own voice was, how much Shane could work him up without even touching him. Usually it was Ilya who commanded control between them, but on the select occasions Shane wanted Ilya to beg at his feet, he was more than happy to oblige. 

“Ah, ah, hands to yourself.” Shane wanted to kill him tonight, obviously. Ilya was sure if he couldn’t touch his boyfriend he would die. Shane shook his head in mock disapproval, his perfect lips forming into a pout that only served to antagonize Ilya further. He had to make a concerted effort to restrain himself from launching over the center console and biting Shane’s lower lip. “Do you do this with all your customers?”

His boyfriend was such a brat. “Only the ones who want it.”

Shane continued to tease him, “That’s not very professional, now is it?” Ilya bit his own lip as he begrudgingly moved his hand again, dragging his palm from where it cupped Shane’s ass, detouring slightly to allow himself a single brush his fingers over Shane’s crotch before returning them to the wheel. 

Fuck. Even with the slightest graze, Ilya could feel Shane’s hardened cock straining against the seam of his pants. The brief contact made Shane’s breath hitch, his hips chasing Ilya's hand as he dragged it away. Ilya smirked. He was only listening to directions. When Shane settled back in his seat, he grinded on the leather just barely. A groan escaped his lips that had Ilya almost shaking while trying to maintain composure. 

“It’s okay if you need to touch yourself, I don’t mind.” Ilya’s nonchalance sounded incredibly desperate. Ilya was sure Shane wouldn’t do it, but as Shane reached lower to palm himself over his jeans, Ilya’s heartbeat felt like it was racing just as fast as his car, going a million miles a minute. 

He moved agonizingly slow, his hand meandering down his torso before finally settling over the obvious evidence of his arousal. As he began to work himself over, Shane’s heavy breathing deepened into moans. Ilya was almost in disbelief at how sensitive Shane seemed, he was already close and he hadn’t even properly touched himself. 

His seatbelt was taut against his chest as he writhed against it, holding him in place as his hips jerked up. It was obscene. The only thing Ilya could even render in his mind was the image of Shane tied up and helpless, at his mercy as he bucked into the air, desperate for Ilya’s touch.  

“Seems like this sexy actress got you all worked up. You can’t even wait until you get home.” 

“No, she didn’t.” Shane was panting now. “The whole time I sat across from her, there was only one thing I was thinking about. Something she could never give me.” 

“And what’s that?” Ilya was desperate for his confirmation.

Shane stopped for a moment, pausing with his hand gripping his cock through his jeans. “I think you should focus on keeping your eyes on the road.” God, Shane was such a fucking tease. Ilya’s own cock was straining against the seatbelt on his lap, making it ache with the need for more friction, more pressure. As if he could tell Ilya was already close to losing his mind, Shane unzipped his jeans and started stroking his dick with slow, languid movements.

“Is this okay, sir?” Shane’s smile was cocky, like he knew he had Ilya right where he wanted him. Only able to look at his perfect, weeping dick without being able to take him in his mouth like he wanted without crashing.

“One rule.” Shane stalled his movements once more, holding his breath for Ilya’s direction. Such a good listener. “You wait until you get home to cum. I don’t want to get my seats all dirty.” Ilya winked. “New car. Don’t want to have to give you a bad review.”

Shane all but whined at this command, but returned to stroking himself as Ilya pulled off the freeway. Five minutes left in their drive now. Three, if Ilya kept his speed.

“Who would’ve thought the golden boy of hockey was such a slut.” Ilya allowed his eyes to dart to where Shane’s hand met his cock quickly before fixating back on the road. “How lucky am I, that I get to see Shane Hollander like this.” Shane could only grunt in response, his movements becoming quicker and less measured. “You love it, huh, showing off. I think you want to be seen like this, ruined and begging.” 

“Yes! Fuck!” Shane gripped the base of his dick, squeezing hard to stave off the orgasm that was threatening to barrel through him. 

“Such a good boy, listening so well.” Ilya shifted his pelvis up, groaning as his seatbelt pressed into the head of his cock. It wasn’t enough pressure. He needed more. “You want to cum so bad don’t you? But you’re being so good for me.”

“Don’t…want to…have to pay…the cleaning fee,” Shane gritted out.

Ilya barked out a laugh, his tone growing increasingly menacing. “Such a rule follower. Never fighting on the ice, always such a good role model. I wonder if the people in the cars driving next to us could ever imagine Shane Hollander in the next lane over in the passenger seat with his cock out. They would never believe it.” 

Sweat was starting to gather on Shane’s brow as he thumbed the tip of his cock, smearing the precum that was dripping from his slit on the underside of his head. Ilya was always gripped by how much Shane responded to him calling out how ravenous he was.

“What would Rose Landry say, hmm?” Ilya wasn’t able to stop now. It was now a challenge to get Shane to disobey his orders, if only to be able to punish him later that night. “What would she think if she knew how insatiable her ex-boyfriend was for dick? That he sat there during dinner, thinking the whole time about how good he was going to get fucked afterwards.”

“Ilyaaaa,” Shane dragged out his name as he started to get himself off faster, abandoning any notions of the role-play they had started the drive with. Ilya’s body rushed with heat as he  basked in the fact Shane was too far gone to think of anything else but him.

“Almost there, Shane, hold it for me.” Ilya buzzed into the gate that guarded Shane’s long private driveway.

“So. Close.” 

Ilya pushed on the gas pedal, driving over the curb to the driveway with an extra jolt as he hurried to park before Shane lost his battle of wills.

“Fuck!” Ilya looked over just in time to watch Shane paint stripes of cum all over his deliciously tailored button down shirt, his whole body convulsing as he came. Ilya could only watch in awe as Shane’s chest heaved with ragged breaths as he wrung out the last drops of his orgasm.

“Shane, what the fuck was that, we were almost home!” Ilya couldn’t suppress the grin that crept up to his cheeks.

“The fucking curb, Ilya, you went too fast up the bump!” 

“What are you talking about?”

Shane squinted his eyes shut as he spoke barely above a murmur. “I’m wearing a plug.”

Ilya’s mouth dropped open in shock as he put the car in park. “You wore a butt plug to dinner with Rose fucking Landry.”

“Yes.” Shane’s voice was small but insistent, his eyes refusing to meet Ilya’s as his face grew red. Ilya watched his hands hover over his thighs, unsure where to put them now that they were covered in his own cum. Shane was so cute when he was embarrassed. “I didn’t want to waste any time when I finally got you alone.”

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. Except maybe hearing you cum because I hit a curb too hard.”

“Shut up! Now I’m gonna need a minute before we…” Shane trailed off. Ilya laughed. Of course his boyfriend would already be thinking about his next opportunity to get off again. Shane moved to get out of the car, undoubtedly eager to get his ruined shirt off, but Ilya grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Before you go, what’s my rating for this ride?”

Shane huffed, pretending to be annoyed before a smirk formed on his lips. He reached over to pull Ilya in, kissing him hard and sharp. “Five fucking stars.”

Chapter 3: With Open Arms

Chapter Notes

chapter title from the song drive by incubus (are we sensing a theme here...)

Ottawa - February 2019

“Drive safe boys!” Yuna and David stood waving outside their Ottawa home, as Shane and Ilya buckled themselves in.

“See you tomorrow!” Shane yelled back. Montreal would be playing the Centaurs in the afternoon, and of course his parents wouldn’t miss that for the world. It wouldn’t be an exciting game of course, and the Centaur’s predictable loss would be undiscussed over dinner, but it warmed Ilya to know that they would be coming regardless.

“Thanks again for dinner,” Ilya called, turning the key in the ignition. 

Ilya loved that he lived so close to Shane’s parents, and would often find himself there for dinners after practice even when Shane wasn’t in town. It was shocking at first, how quickly they had accepted him into the fold of their lives. He was admittedly suspicious at first, but the initial inclination that Shane’s parents may have had an ulterior motive melted away within weeks of knowing them.

It was hard for Ilya to become comfortable around anyone, let alone the parents of his arch rival. Because for a long time, that was all they had known him as. He was sure Yuna and David had notions of suspicion towards him too at first, but if they did, they never showed it. 

He also loved that there was a sense of normalcy surrounding his relationship with his boyfriend’s parents. In front of them, in the confines of their cozy one-story home, they could be normal. Ilya could drape his arm around Shane while they watched a movie on the couch, or peck him on the cheek when they beat his parents in cards, which they did almost every time they were paired together. It was always fun when they got to play on the same team. 

But leaving their house always left Ilya feeling a bit melancholy. He was grateful for the space Yuna and David provided, but the warmth and openness Shane and Ilya were allowed to embody in their presence was such a stark contrast to how they were allowed to operate in the real world. 

“I want to get dessert.” Ilya was still hungry, as he often was whenever Shane accompanied him to the Hollander dinners. When Shane wasn’t there, David would cook something normal, like chicken parmesan. But Shane’s strict macrobiotic diet limited their shared dinner night menus to healthy, unfulfilling meals like grilled tofu and cucumber salad. 

“Ilya, we just ate,” Shane whined, “Besides, I want to go home.” He let his hand wander idly to Ilya’s upper leg. 

“We ate dinner for a hamster, I’m surprised you can keep your weight on like you do eating meals for rodents.” Ilya squeezed Shane’s muscular thigh for emphasis. Shane’s physique was impressive, that was no debate, but Ilya could not fathom restricting himself like he did. But he did not mind reaping the benefits of Shane’s obsession, especially when all Shane’s hard work and dedication was pressed on top of him.  

“Ilya,” Shane warned, “We can just go home. I’ll make you something.” 

“Like what?” Ilya teased, knowing full well whatever concoction Shane would whip up would not hold a candle to the simplicity of a vanilla ice cream cone.

“Um…”

“Exactly, this will take two seconds.” Ilya quickly typed in McDonald’s into his GPS, earning a glare from Shane. 

He pulled off the freeway within a minute or so, because truly there was one of these fast-food establishments on every fucking corner of North America. There had been a single McDonalds in Moscow when he was growing up, and he had eaten there countless times with his mother. Ilya remembered how she would take him there as a treat whenever he won a game in his junior league, talking excitedly about how well he did and how many goals he scored while sharing some fries. After she died, Ilya never went to the McDonald’s in Moscow again. Not that his father offered to take him, but even if he had, it was a tradition between only him and his mother.

Out of habit Ilya pulled into the drive-thru line. 

“Ilya, what the fuck? The cashier or whatever is going to see us!” 

“Oh shit, sorry.” Ilya looked over his shoulder to back up, but another car had pulled behind Ilya’s car, boxing them in. 

Shane’s face was laced with panic, looking like an animal stuck in a trap. “Fuck, they’re going to see us together. Fuck!” His head swiveled around on his neck, like somehow an escape portal would materialize out of nowhere.

“Shane, Shane, it’s okay,” Ilya was doing his best to calm him down, but when Shane started spiraling, it was sometimes hard to bring him back. “We have a game against each other tomorrow, it’s not that weird that we’re hanging out, right? Part of the reason we started the charity was so we could maybe be seen like this.”

“Yes it is!” Shane’s terror was devolving into anger, “What sort of official foundation business takes place at 9:34pm at a McDonald’s drive-thru!” 

“I bet you whoever it is won’t even recognize us. What are the odds whatever teenager working the window will take a photo of us even if they did?”

“I, for one, don’t go around basing my action on odds and bets. This is serious Ilya, how fucking stupid would it be to check Twitter tomorrow and see a photo of us leaving the drive through line while you’re licking a fucking ice cream cone? It’s not worth the risk!” 

Now Ilya’s temper was starting to rise, “So what are we allowed to do, huh? Tell me, since you think you’re taking this so much more serious than me? So far you barely want to be seen talking at stupid NHL events, you never want to drive anywhere unless it’s in my car, we can’t even get a fucking ice cream without you–”

“Hi, welcome to McDonald's. What can I get you?” The monotone voice from the speaker interrupted his tirade, and Ilya was thankful he was cut off before he was able to say more. 

He was angry, yes, but mostly at their situation. Ilya knew Shane was trying, but sometimes, often, he wished they both could just say fuck it and announce them being together to the world. Ilya was getting to the point he didn’t really care if there was a fallout. But there would be, and he couldn’t subject Shane to that when he wasn’t ready.

Ilya steadied his voice. “Hi, yes, two–no sorry, one vanilla ice cream cone.” 

They sat in silence as they inched up to the takeout window. Ilya heard Shane rustling with his seatbelt and before he knew it, he was crawling into the backseat.

“What are you doing?” For as graceful as an athlete as he was on the ice, Shane was anything but as he dragged himself through the small space between them.

“What does it look like?” 

“It looks like you are hiding in the backseat.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” he spit out. Shane moved to sit closer to the driverside, slouching against the door like making himself smaller would hide him even more than the blacked out windows already did. 

Ilya sighed. There would be no arguing with Shane when he was like this. He finally drove up to the window and paid, exchanging his credit card for a tiny swirled cone. For all the shit it caused, this had better be the best ice cream of his life. Ilya looked in his rearview mirror, watching Shane slumping over even more as the cashier wished him goodnight. 

Ilya drove to the furthest away spot in the parking lot, away from oppressive street lights and the few scattered cars that occupied it. He turned off the car and began to lick his cone, feeling stupid, juvenile. He felt like a child, scolded for taking liberties that he knew in his heart was pushing past what was allowed. But he wanted so badly to get a sweet treat with his boyfriend on a late night drive, and he couldn’t even have that. Outside of their houses, the cottage, Yuna’ and David’s, or the confines of this car, they couldn’t have anything.

Ilya sometimes wondered how it was possible for Shane to hold so steadfastly onto their plan, and in the deeper parts of his self-loathing, he thought maybe Shane harbored a fear of being found out greater than his love for Ilya. But usually after a day or so of wallowing in such thoughts, Ilya could rationalize that Shane was holding them accountable to the plan because he loved Ilya so much. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Can you please come back up here?” The distance between the front seat and back row was too much to bear. Like he was waiting for the invitation, Shane crawled back over the console feet first, sliding into his seat with a huff. He curled his knees into his chest, looking out the window at nothing as Ilya stared at the back of his head. He wanted so badly to reach for Shane’s hand, but the action seemed insurmountable, like Shane was miles away when he really was just inches from him.

“I’m sorry.” Ilya broke the silence, unable to sit in it any longer. “I was not thinking when I pulled in. I do not want you to think I did that on purpose.” 

Shane’s lips quivered for a moment before answering. He unfurled his body and let his feet hit the floor. “I know. I know, you wouldn’t do that on purpose. I’m sorry too, I overreacted.”

“No, no, even though this was a mistake, I push you sometimes. I shouldn’t do that.” 

“It’s fine, really. I need to be more…flexible about certain things.”

“You are plenty flexible,” Ilya teased, popping the remains of the cone in his mouth. Shane shot him a disapproving look. “I meant your yoga, Hollander, nothing more.” Shane attempted a smile, but his face fell again quickly, and Ilya could tell he was still trapped in his head. He moved his driver’s seat as far back as it could go, reclining the seat all the way down so that his head was below the threshold of the window. “Come here.” Ilya opened his arms for his boyfriend, beckoning him in. He needed to hold him.

Shane acquiesced, and maneuvered awkwardly to situate himself onto Ilya’s lap. Shane straddled his thighs tightly due to the lack of space, wrapping his hands under Ilya’s neck as he buried his face in his shoulder. “I’m so tired of this.”

Ilya froze. He was always afraid this would one day be too much for Shane. The hiding, the risk taking, the lying. It was a fear he refused to verbalize, too afraid that if he spoke it into existence it would maybe take on a life of its own and Shane would finally leave him. 

“Tired of what?” Ilya choked on his question.

“Feeling like I have to push you away in public when all I want to do is pull you in.” 

“Oh.” 

“I want to be able to go out with you. Even like dumb stuff, like grocery shopping. I hate how we have to order them to our door like hermits every time we need to cook.” 

The idea of Shane Hollander, number one goal-scorer in the NHL doing his own grocery shopping made Ilya smile. Ilya hired people to do that for him, but of course his boyfriend would be particular about such a thing and want to do it himself.

“Or like…” Shane’s words were muffled as he spoke into Ilya’s neck, but he had never heard him more clearly, “Going for a run outside together. I’m sick of treadmills.”

“Mmm, what else?” Ilya was getting greedy now with the fantasy of getting to live an everyday-type-of-life with Shane.

“I would take you out on a proper date.”

Ilya’s heart swelled. They did date nights often, trying their best to make takeout and streaming a movie feel special. They always were, any time they got to have together was special, but they both knew it wasn’t exactly the same as getting dressed up and going out for a fancy dinner. Or going to a museum, and picking out the art they would choose to hang in their home if they could. Or getting drunk at a club, uncaring who could see as they danced the night away in each other's arms. 

“Tell me about this date.”

“We would go somewhere outside in nature,” Shane began, interrupting himself to suck lightly on Ilya’s neck, “I would pack us a blanket, and a bottle of wine, and we could drink the whole thing and watch the sunset.” 

Ilya closed his eyes, imagining.

“We could stay until it got dark,” Shane continued, now moving his lips to press softly against Ilya’s mouth, “And make out while looking at the stars.”

“Who knew Shane Hollander was such a sappy romantic.”

“Shut up! I’m serious, it sounds nice!” 

It did. 

Ilya kissed Shane deeply, startling him as his boyfriend let out a soft gasp. 

When he finally came up for air, Shane met his eyes with a soft smile, “If I had known that would turn you on so much, I would have started telling you earlier about all the boring dates I’ve been planning in the back of my head for years.”

“You’ve been planning more pretend dates in your head?” Ilya was pretty sure all 32 of his teeth were showing with how big he was smiling. He had the inclination to bury his face in Shane’s shoulder, so he could hide how much this mad affected him. But with Shane, he didn’t need to hide.

“They’re not pretend! We’re going to do them all one day.”

One day. Ilya could wait for one day, he could. 

Shane cradled his face in the cup of his hands, his thumbs moving lightly over his cheekbones in a soothing motion as they continued to melt together. The only other times he had ever felt a touch like this was from his mother. 

A touch that wanted for nothing and sought only to comfort. 

Ilya felt a burning behind his eyes and squeezed them shut so no tears would escape.

They stayed there, in a tight embrace as they began to kiss each other slowly. As Ilya dipped his tongue in Shane’s mouth, he wondered when that one day would finally come. They had discussed it would happen after their retirement, but that was a date so far in the future it felt like a promise that would never come to fruition. But for Shane he could do it. He would wait months or years. For Shane he would do anything.

He needed Shane. God, did he need him. It had been over 10 years of needing him and 2 years of having him, but it would never be enough. He would never tire of the way Shane kissed him, always chasing his lips whenever he moved away first. The sounds he made when it was only Ilya listening. The way he begged for Ilya, when there was never a question Ilya would give Shane whatever he wanted.

Ilya began to devour Shane, his hands frantically moving up and down his back like he could rub his shirt off with the friction. The kiss became more reckless as Ilya lost control, unable to suppress his unwavering desire for the love of his life. Ilya bit down hard on Shane’s bottom lip, drawing a slight bead of blood that Ilya lapped up greedily. Shane's whole body shuddered before diving back in to kiss him urgently to meet Ilya’s frenzied pace. 

“Shane,” Ilya managed, “I need you.”

“I always need you,” he gasped back.

He shifted his hips, grinding himself to press closer into Shane. They couldn’t fuck in this car, there wasn’t enough room, but Ilya was content try his best.

Shane’s head rolled back as their cocks pushed together, arching his back to press as hard as he could against Ilya. Shane then moved to meet his thrust, Ilya’s hands wrapping around his ass to help shove against him harder. 

As Shane rolled his body again, they both jumped as the car horn honked loudly, breaking the spell that was beginning to take hold over them. 

“Fuck!” They were both shaking with laughing now, the absurdity of the moment washing away whatever tension remained of their earlier argument. 

“You bumped the horn with your ass, Hollander!”

“Not true! It was your hand, Ilya!”

They laid chest to chest for a moment, trying and failing to suppress the shockwaves of laughter that rolled through them.

“Let’s go home, yeah? Easier to do this there.” Ilya slapped Shane’s ass softly as he climbed off hip lap. 

Shane nodded, a blush starting spreading out over his cheeks. “So much for wanting to remain under the radar, huh?”

“Let’s leave before the poor teenager working the window comes to investigate.”

Ilya honked the horn once more as he peeled out from the parking lot, just to watch Shane's face get even redder.

Chapter 4: Ride Around

Chapter Notes

chapter title from "black limousine" by the rolling stones

Montreal - August 2020

“Woo, what a fucking night, huh?” Ilya all but collapsed onto the bench of the limo, closing the door behind Shane as he crawled over his sprawling legs. 

“Do you think it went well?” Shane knew it did, but he wanted to hear from Ilya anyways. 

It was the first gala they had put on for the Irina Foundation during the second year of its inception, with the initial year of their charity outreach focused solely on preparation and execution of their youth hockey program. Camp this year, as it had in the past, went wonderfully, but his mother had all but demanded the summer end with a fancy soiree to encourage their networks to “open up their fat wallets for a good cause.” When Yuna Hollander got a whiff of any marketing opportunity, it was like chum in the water to a shark with excellent business acumen.

“Could not have gone better, moya lyubov, even Scott Hunter stayed until the end. I thought it would have been past the old man’s bedtime.” 

Shane smiled despite Ilya’s predictable jab at the Admirals player. He was grateful that his boyfriend was satisfied with his efforts, and the praise was all he needed to justify the sleepless nights he had spent preparing for the day. 

Shane and his mom had worked tirelessly on hammering out all the details over the past couple weeks: the high profile guestlist, appetizers, speeches, all things Shane usually didn’t care about. But this was their foundation, named in Ilya’s mother’s memory, and Shane would always put maximum effort into things he cared deeply about. Ilya had helped too, but Shane found himself taking on more of the planning, not wanting to upset Ilya when reading the testimonies of the keynote speakers who had benefitted from their mental health charity, knowing they would hit a bit too close to home.

The foundation was for the both of them, of course, posing as a front for the two to appear together in public places on very select occasions without the media freaking out entirely. But Shane had thought up the idea mostly for Ilya. Even though he would never meet Ilya’s mother, he felt this was a way for him to get closer to knowing her. Hearing the stories from those who had struggled in similar ways gave Shane insight into Irina’s mindset, and now also her son’s. 

Shane had learned a lot about mental health in the last two years, and had picked up on ways to tell when Ilya was having a bad day, and how to best support him. Not that Ilya had explicitly said anything yet about maybe being…depressed…but Shane noticed things. And if he was being honest, Shane would also have to admit he was noticing things about himself that aligned with the resources he had read about on their own foundation website. 

Anxiety, for one. It was an emotion he felt often. He was always on edge, whether it be the incessant pressure from his coaches, his sponsors, being a role model for young kids like him, and even his mother (though she meant well). His anxiety most intensely manifested, however, when his phone would ping with a Google notification that alerted him his name was trending, dreading it would finally be the time he was officially outed as gay to the world at large. He had come out to his team, and though he expected more from them in terms of keeping his secret, it was unfortunately somewhat unsurprising there had been whispers and rumors beyond the locker room that Shane Hollander might be that thing hockey players threw around as an insult. 

Worse yet, every time him and Ilya were together in the same space: crouched down staring into each other’s eyes during a faceoff, playfully ribbing each other on the same All-Star team, or standing shoulder to shoulder at a podium giving a joint speech at the Irina Foundation Gala – an overwhelming wave of terror would course through him that someone, somewhere, would discover their secret just by noticing the way they looked at each other.

“It was kind of weird though, right? Acting like…not how we act.” 

They had just spent two months at the cottage, wrapped up in their own world, unburdened by prying eyes that always seemed laser focused on the two “rivals,” and Shane found it extremely difficult to “turn off the switch” from one day to the next. Having to suppress showing his affection for Ilya outwardly had him basically stumbling through the night’s interactions whenever they were in proximity of one another. 

Shane had gotten more used to being friendly with Ilya in public now, something he had put concerted effort into, but when Shane had just spent countless days with his arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist, pressing kisses to his lips, it was hard to treat him in a respectably distant and firmly professional way. Even having to call him Rozanov in conversation instead of Ilya left his tongue feeling heavy with the syllables. 

“A bit, yes,” Ilya responded. He moved to grab Shane’s hand, rubbing his thumb across the top of his knuckles before Shane quickly returned his hand to his own lap. Their limo driver had just gotten in, a present reminder they could still be seen. 

Ilya’s voice went quieter. “I wanted so badly to dance with you.”

Shane swallowed. He had slow danced with Rose Landry as a live band played delicate music in the background, while Ilya had his arms draped around Svetlana’s waist across the room. Their gazes kept darting back and forth to meet during the entire song, the convergence of their eyes the only contact they were afforded. 

What would people say if he had dropped his hands from Rose’s hips? Would they gasp as he made his way to politely request to steal a dance from Ilya’s childhood friend? It would be a scandal, surely, one that would derail everything they had worked so hard to build, but in the moments Shane found himself locking eyes with the love of his life, it had almost felt worth it.

“Me too,” Shane whispered. His eyes flitted to the open window partition that separated the back of the limo from the driver. It wasn’t entirely odd that the two of them left the gala together, if anyone had even seen them at all. They were the last to depart, making sure the staff was tipped handsomely and all the chairs and tables were cleaned away. But with the partition open, Shane felt just as exposed as he did at the gala, mindful of his movements around Ilya, how he had to physically restrain himself from drifting towards his orbit. 

Ilya, as he did with everything Shane-related, noticed this. “Excuse me, sir, do you mind shutting the privacy screen?” he asked, addressing the driver. The click of the seal finally allowed Shane to fully exhale, his head falling into the nook between Ilya’s shoulder and neck. 

“It’s a lot easier to keep up this facade on the ice. I’m much better at it there,” Shane admitted.

“If facade means lie, then yes, I agree. We have years of practice pretending we’re not in love during a game. This we don’t have so much practice with.” 

A moment of uncomfortable silence settled over them as the limo finally pulled away. Shane was desperate to not let the night devolve into further turmoil over how much their current inability to be out together was sucking the life out of them. “You did so good tonight, Ilya, during your speech. I’m really proud of you.” Shane knew he didn’t give out compliments enough, but when he did, they were always deserved. “You were so strong.”

Ilya answered him with a featherlight kiss, testing the waters of Shane’s comfort. It was always like that when they were in public, Ilya pushing softly at the boundaries of Shane’s tolerance and Shane hurting Ilya when he rejected him, who then retreated further into himself. But they weren’t technically in public now, and although the barrier between them and the driver was barely enough to feel truly alone, it was enough tonight.

“I wanted to touch you so badly all night. Needed to touch you,” Shane confessed. Ilya quirked an eyebrow that had Shane shaking his head. “No, no, no, not like that.” 

Shane was thinking specifically of the moment during their joint address, where Ilya had to pause to gather himself during his speech when he got to the part about his mother. All he wanted to do was reach for him, tell him it was okay, that he was there for him. But he couldn’t. He had to respectfully look out at the faceless crowd while his boyfriend’s heart cracked beside him. “I would have been happy even just holding your hand.”

“Yes. Is unfair,” Ilya agreed, “Hayden and Jackie are allowed to suck each other’s face on the dancefloor, but if I dared to give you a kiss on the cheek, all of Canada would explode.” 

It was unfair. But they had a plan, and sticking to it would mean they could have both their highly decorated careers and each other. They just had to wait a little longer to have each other fully and openly. But Shane wasn’t in the mood to wait tonight. 

“I wish I could have kissed you like that tonight.” He turned his head that was still resting on Ilya’s shoulder and began to kiss up and down the column of his neck. “In front of everyone, so they could see how lucky I am.” Ilya sharply inhaled as Shane sucked right below his jawline, hard enough that there would maybe be a mark they could discover there the next day. 

They had another week until the season started, and the impending deadline of their time alone together had Shane feeling almost frantic with need. He wanted to place his claim on Ilya all over his body and leave bruises all over his throat while he still could. In just a couple days from now, they would have to switch back from lazy afternoons tanning on the deck of the cottage to long-distance phone calls in nondescript hotel rooms. Every time the season started, it made Shane feel like they were starting over, wondering if this year would be the one to break them.

“Shane,” Ilya spoke his name like a warning. He probably wanted to take Shane out of his head and remind him that they weren’t technically alone.

“Just turn up the music,” he rasped, his lips breaking contact only for a moment before turning to meet Ilya’s. Ilya fumbled for the controls on the side of the car, increasing the volume loud enough so only they could hear each other’s sounds. Shane didn’t care how desperate he looked, he wanted Ilya to know how badly he needed this. Spending six hours not touching him was six hours too many, and Shane wanted to make up for lost time. 

Shane grabbed Ilya’s face, angling it so he could kiss him deeply. It was sloppy and craving, Ilya meeting his ferocity as he grabbed the back of Shane’s head, forcing their noses to smoosh together. 

“It was torture not being able to touch you, you look so fucking good in your tux,” Shane huffed, running his hands up and down Ilya’s chest, gripping his lapel to bring him closer. 

Ilya groaned. “I had to stop myself from staring at your ass the whole night. Kept thinking about how I wanted to leave the party to fuck you in the bathroom stall.” 

The thought of Ilya stealing glances at him all night made Shane’s face flush with heat. He had the hottest man in the room pining for him, even when Ilya could have any single person, man or woman, that he wanted. Even at an event like tonight, Shane saw the way other women looked at Ilya, ready to throw themselves before him for a chance with the NHL’s notorious playboy. Shane only pretended to be jealous when he stole glances at the obvious attempts they made to seduce his boyfriend, finding great pleasure in the moments after Ilya would make a casual excuse to exit those conversations and walk his way back to him.

Without second thought, Shane dropped to his knees between Ilya’s legs, spreading his thighs wider as he stared up at his boyfriend. Ilya’s eyes were dark with lust, waiting with bated breath for what Shane would do next. Ilya looked down on him with such reverence, it made Shane want to do anything to make Ilya feel exactly the same way he made Shane feel. Worshipped.

He lifted himself slightly off his heels, pushing his face into Ilya’s crotch as he nuzzled against his cock. Shane mouthed at the hardness straining against his tuxedo pants, breathing hotly against the zipper.  

“You can’t wait until we’re home, can you?” 

“No.” He couldn’t if he tried. Shane had the thought that even if the driver had somehow opened the screen again and filmed them, it wouldn’t be enough to stop him.

“Fuck, Shane, you always want it so bad.” Ilya had the decency to act surprised at how desperate Shane was for him, when they both knew this was how it always had been between them. They were both insatiable when it came to one another. 

“Always with you.” Shane’s own dick was aching now. He knew how debauched he probably looked, crawling on the ground for a taste of Ilya’s cock, but it turned him on immensely to know Ilya was witnessing him like this. It was a side of him only Ilya brought out, the side where he felt comfortable and safe enough to let go.

Hungrily, Shane pawed at the buttons at Ilya’s waist and clamped the metal zipper between his teeth, dragging it down slowly before extracting Ilya’s perfect cock. Though he was well acquainted, every time Shane saw how big it was, he was shocked how he was able to take it. Like he was made for it.

Shane stroked it a few times, letting the weight of his length settle into his palm. Ilya was already squirming, undoubtedly taken aback at how forward Shane was being. Shane from a year ago would have never jacked him off in a chauffeured limo, but Shane wanted to do even more than that tonight.

He looked up at Ilya again, holding his gaze as he licked up his shaft from bottom to top, never breaking eye contact as he formed his lips around his swollen head. Ilya hissed in response to Shane enveloping him in his heat, which only served as encouragement to keep going. 

Shane wrapped his arms on the underside of Ilya’s thighs, still clothed with the finery of the night, his hands twisted around to grip firmly on his quads. 

His cheeks hollowed as he began to move his lips further down, swirling his tongue around the crown of Ilya's cock, paying close attention to how Ilya jerked every time he pushed his tongue slightly into his slit. He worked his mouth in a slow but agonizing rhythm, not yet taking him to the hilt. Shane wanted Ilya as desperate as he felt. 

“We’re almost home Shane.” Fuck. He’d almost forgotten where they were.

Not wasting any more time, he took Ilya deep in his throat, earning a muffled cry from Ilya as he bit his hand to stay quiet. Shane stayed there for a moment, allowing his throat to open up and accommodate Ilya’s considerable girth. Drool began to drip from his mouth as he choked slightly, relishing in the feeling of being entirely filled by Ilya’s cock. 

“Please, Shane, I need you to move.” It hadn’t taken long for Ilya to start begging.

He removed Ilya’s cock from his mouth only for a moment. “Take what you want. I can handle it.” Shane wanted to be used. Wanted to be reduced as a vessel for Ilya’s pleasure. He couldn’t give Ilya everything he needed yet, they both knew that, but he could give him this.

“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya rasped. On occasion, Shane loved it when Ilya called him by his last name during sex. It took him back to a time when their forbidden secret was a turn on, and not something they had to endure.

Ilya took his head with both hands, moving Shane up and down at the exact pace he needed. His movements grew more erratic as Ilya lost the rhythm he initially held, devolving into a frenzied chase towards release. “You like that, huh, letting me use you?” He was fully fucking Shane’s face now, barely even moving his head opposed to just slamming his hips up into his throat. Shane couldn’t respond, gagged with Ilya’s cock ramming into him. He dragged himself closer using Ilya’s thighs for leverage, pressing himself against the limo seat, desperate for contact on his weeping dick. 

“So desperate to cum just from sucking my cock? You’re going to hump the seat now?” Ilya shoved his leg between them, pressing into Shane hard as he began to grind himself on his boyfriend’s shin. “There you go, go ahead. I want to hear you cum with my dick in your mouth.” It wouldn’t take Shane long, not like this. He was already on the very edge of spilling himself into his very expensive designer clothes. “Good thing you have a gag in your mouth, huh? You always scream so loud I’m afraid the neighbors will hear.” Shane moaned in response, his lips vibrating around the length Ilya was feeding him.

Ilya tensed up, the twitch of his cock the only warning before he came. Hot wetness gushed down Shane’s throat and he swallowed eagerly, unwilling to spill a single drop. He wanted to be good for Ilya, to prove he could always take him, however roughly he needed it. The taste of Ilya on his tongue was enough to release the white hot pressure that had been building in Shane’s core, and he ground harder into his shin to ride the cresting wave. He cried out as he came, his moans muffled around Ilya’s still hard cock. Shane was left shuddering on his knees as Ilya caressed his upper back.

“Such a good boy,” Ilya soothed, “Did so well for me. Came just in time.” Shane finally sat up, coming back into his body as he took in his surroundings. 

“Are we almost home?” Panic was seeping into his brain, the wetness in his pants growing more uncomfortable by the second. He would have to get out of the limo in front of the driver and walk into his house with cum soaking the front of his trousers. Oh god, what if he had heard?

“Shane.” Ilya’s voice snapped him back into focus. “It’s okay.” He lifted Shane from the floor and began smoothing his hair and suit jacket. “Good thing you picked a black suit. Your grey one is sexy, but maybe not so good for hiding.” That made Shane finally crack a smile.

“Fuck, Ilya, that was so hot.”

“Yes, it was. Didn’t think you’d want to do…that…in the limo. If I had known, we would have left the gala hours ago.”

“We couldn’t have left early Ilya, it was our fucking gala,” Shane laughed.

The limo finally came to a stop outside Shane’s Montreal home. He took a deep breath, willing the red flush he knew was rosying up his cheeks to dissipate before facing the driver. The man opened the door and Shane all but leapt out, refusing to make eye contact with the man he had maybe just scandalized.

“Thanks so much,” Shane said too quickly, shoving a $100 bill into the limo driver’s hand. He needed to be in the confines of their home, locked away from reality for at least the next week before they had to go back to pretending again.

“You want me to drop you at your hotel, Mr. Rozanov? More than happy to do it.” The limo driver’s very considerate question made Shane stop abruptly in his tracks. Of course it would be strange for them to both get dropped at Shane’s house. To anyone else, the idea of Ilya sleeping anywhere but a hotel would be inconceivable. The anxiety he thought he buried for the night was rising back in his chest, clenching at his sternum so hard he thought his ribs would cave in. Maybe Ilya should say yes just to save face, and Shane would have to go pick him up in front of the lobby of some fucking Marriott down the street.

“No, Shane will take me.” Ilya got out of the car, eyeing Shane like he always did when he could sense he was freaking out.

“Yeah, uh, that’s fine. Thanks again.” The man nodded in response, and Shane waited to move until the lights from the limo had faded into black.

“So, you will take me home now, yes?” Ilya winked, shoving Shane’s shoulder playfully.

“Yes.” Shane grabbed Ilya's hand and led him to their front door.

Chapter 5: In the Backseat (I wanna get beside ya)

Chapter Notes

the ending of this fic was inspired by a beautiful tweet from @holIanovs on twitter (your mind)

and yes this chapter title is a lyric from a new boyz/cataracs song

The Cottage - August 2021

It was the perfect summer day, the sun baking down with no relent, but accompanied by a cool breeze tempering the heat just enough to be bearable. Ilya rolled the windows down in Shane’s Land Rover, wanting to feel the wind in his hair rather than the AC.

It was the first time in months Ilya felt like he could fully relax. No expectations, no scheduled events. Just him and Shane enjoying the last week they had at the cottage before heading off on their honeymoon in Spain.

Shane said he needed a bit of time between the wedding and the honeymoon to decompress, and Ilya was happy to oblige. They could’ve just stayed at the cottage for all he cared, but he was excited at the opportunity to do something new with Shane. Ilya couldn’t wait for all their “firsts” they had been denied while they were still keeping their love a secret.

A lot had changed for them that year. The beginning was marked by pain and fear. Ilya’s scare with the plane malfunction. Shane’s worst fears coming to a head when he was outed and subsequently rejected by the team he thought he would finish his career with. Their meeting with the NHL Commissioner that they both left wondering if they would ever play hockey again.

But because they were them, they had found a way out of the darkness. Shane had proposed to Ilya, promising him a forever Ilya didn’t think he would see for many years. Shane was traded to Ilya’s team the Ottawa Centaurs, and Ilya watched him blossom again with a renewed fervor he always embodied whenever Shane was faced with a challenge. And they had gotten married. It was something so absurd and precious that Ilya had to ground himself every morning he woke up next to Shane, studying the slope of his profile as he slept beside him to convince himself, yes, this was real.

The wedding was a week ago now, and Ilya couldn’t believe this was going to be the rest of his life. Shane was his husband. They were going to be on the same team. They didn’t have to hide anymore. It was a fantasy Ilya had never allowed himself to indulge in, refusing to tempt himself with something he wanted so badly but never thought he could have at this stage in his life. But here they were, Ilya’s fingers entwined with his husband’s as Shane drove them down a long stretch of country road. Shane fiddled with the ring on Ilya’s left hand, rolling it over between his index finger and thumb as he smiled softly  

“So, where are you taking us?” Shane had been awfully cagey all day, packing undisclosed items discreetly in a tote bag before Ilya could sneak a peak of what he was up to.

“It’s a surprise.” 

For how much Ilya teased Shane for being boring, it seemed his husband took that taunt as a personal challenge to do something unexpected every chance he could. 

Shane pulled off onto a treelined dirt road, the body of the car shaking as Shane slowly drove over the unpaved bumps and divots. Now Ilya knew why he had insisted on driving.

“Good thing we brought your mom car.”

“It’s not a mom car! It’s British.” Shane argued back, igniting their years-long debate about the practicality of his vehicles. “And it can handle a dirt road. You’d probably cry if your car got scratched by a stray rock.” 

“Probably,” Ilya replied, “But then I could just drive one of my other 5 expensive, useless cars.”

Finally, they arrived at what looked to be a small lake, hugged by tall pines on all sides of the perimeter. The rays of the noon sun reflected off the surface, making the lake glitter like a diamond. 

“We have a perfectly good lake at the cottage. With jet skis. Why are we at a pond?” 

Shane rolled his eyes dramatically, as he often did when Ilya baited him. “I’ve been wanting to take you here for a long time, actually.” His eyes softened as he looked back out through the windshield. “I would come here every summer and winter with my parents. It’s where I learned to skate, actually. I would get nervous going out on the big lakes, always afraid somehow I would fall through the ice. But here it felt safer, for some reason. Like I couldn’t go too far without someone catching me.”

Ilya’s heart clenched at the thought of a small, scared Shane Hollander, bundled up in layers upon layers of winterwear, garnering the courage to skate on the ice for the first time. For how anxious Shane could be, he was also very brave. He was brave when he gave Ilya his room number after they shot their first commercial together, when he invited him to the cottage the first time, and when he told the NHL Commissioner he would choose Ilya over the sport that made him.

It was here at this pond that the legacy of Shane Hollander began, and Ilya was now a part of that story. 

Ilya also knew why Shane couldn’t bring him there before. It was remote, yes, but there was still a chance they could be seen by hikers or anyone that wanted to enjoy the serenity of a hidden spot. But now they didn’t have to worry about that, and the gift of freedom was enough to forget the trenches the years had dragged them through so they could focus on their future. 

“C’mon,” Shane patted Ilya’s thigh encouragingly, “Let’s go for a swim.”

—

They spent the day alternating between laying out on the rocky banks of the pond, and jumping in intermittently to cool off. It was slow, sleepy, and exactly what they both needed after weeks of struggling to catch their breath. At one point, even notorious non-nap-taker Shane fell asleep with his book in his hand. Ilya smiled, carefully extracting the paperback from lax fingers, taking care to remember what page he was on before closing it. Shane didn’t like creasing the corners.

Ilya studied the darkened freckles on the bridge of his nose intently, quietly thanking the summer sun for highlighting one of his favorite things about his husband. The sky was growing more orange in hue, signaling the impending end of one of the best days of Ilya’s life. Ilya had been having a lot of “best days” recently, it was getting harder to rank them all on a list. 

He reached over to smooth Shane’s cheek with the back of his hand, gently stirring him from his slumber. “Shane, it’s getting late, should we be getting back?” 

Shane squeezed his eyes tightly, wrinkling his nose. “Fuck, I fell asleep.” His voice was overly groggy as he fought through the haze of coming back into consciousness. 

“Yes.” Ilya couldn’t help but smile.

“What time is it?” 

“Like 6ish maybe?” 

Shane sat up immediately. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear the sleep from his vision, and jumped to his feet before jogging back to the parked car. “Don’t look!”

Ilya held his resolve for about 30 seconds before giving in to his own curiosity. Shane had popped the trunk and was currently rummaging around in the back of his car, his body obscuring whatever it was he was doing. Finally, he turned back to Ilya.

“I said don’t look!” Shane’s faux outrage was betrayed by the grin he was trying to suppress.

“I didn’t see anything, Shane, promise! Just you being weird and sneaky.” Ilya rocked to his feet, adjusting the swim trunks that had ridden up his thighs. As he walked closer to the car, Shane stepped to the side to reveal what he had been working on. 

In the spacious backseat, he had set up a charcuterie spread of various meats, cheeses and fruits, accompanied by two glasses and a bottle of sparkling Kava wine. 

“I thought I should do something with a Spanish theme, you know, get in the spirit. So I googled some ideas,” Shane offered, his tone wavering between embarrassment and pride. 

“What is this something? Couldn’t wait for tapas until we actually go on our honeymoon?”

“A date…”

Ilya was utterly endeared. A couple months ago, any sort of outing resembling a date night outside of their homes was unfathomable. But here, untethered to any secret, Shane had planned their first date with such care that it made Ilya’s vision blurry. Shane had said once he would take Ilya on a proper date, and he was making good on that promise.

“You are wining and dining me, Hollander. If I was a smarter man, I would think you were trying to fuck me.” Ilya basked in the blush on Shane’s face. “And that is strictly third-date activities.” 

They sat on either side of the arranged platter, their legs hanging out the back of the trunk as Shane poured them both a healthy serving of the white wine. They clinked their glasses, kissing each other with a smack before taking a sip.

“Why even fly all the way to Spain?” Ilya mused, “Is pretty much what we have here. Nice view, good food, cheap wine.”

“I haven’t travelled much outside of hockey,” Shane reminded him. Shane had told Ilya growing up his family vacations were pretty much limited to visiting their cottage in the summer. The rest of the year’s travel was monopolized by bouncing between Canadian provinces on the weekends with his junior team. 

Ilya, by nature of being European, had travelled more than the average NHL hockey player in his youth. He’d visited many countries in Western Europe when his mother was alive. His mother always booked trips during the summer breaks, eager to show Ilya and his brother the different ways of life people led just mere hours away by plane. 

After she died, summer breaks turned from days spent on beaches in Lisbon to hockey camps in Moscow. His father had no interest in wasting his time relaxing in places he deemed lesser than Russia, and the fact Ilya could dare to want to relax during his breaks was an evident symptom of the enduring laziness his father tried to consistently beat out of him.

It had taken Ilya a long time to shed that idea of himself, that he was lazy, motivated only by fear of disappointing his father. But his father was dead, had been for years, and Ilya’s hunger for taking the things he knew he deserved hadn’t waned in the slightest. They had only grown, and while a lot of that feeling had stemmed from wanting to be the best for Shane, it had also come from wanting to be better for himself.

“Besides,” Shane continued, “I want to experience some culture outside of mid-sized American and Canadian cities. I just need someone well traveled to come with me…Maybe someone European who knows how to get around.” 

“Ah,” Ilya threw up his hands in mock upset, “I am not sure I can help. Am Canadian now, yes?” He wiggled his ring finger in Shane’s face.

“Yes, but I still think you’ll be the best tour guide.”

—

The sun was starting to set, the meats and cheeses picked over, and the wine bottle emptied to about half. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder now, Ilya arm draped over Shane’s shoulder, as Shane’s snaked around his waist. The air was starting to cool slightly, the beginning of the end of summer evident in the chill that had them both drawing each other closer for warmth.

“Thank you for the date,” Ilya broke the comfortable silence that had fallen over them as they watched the sun descend behind the treeline, “It was perfect. You’re perfect.” He punctuated his affirmation by planting a kiss on the tip of Shane’s nose.

“It was nothing.” Ilya loved when Shane pretended to be embarrassed when he flattered him, when they both knew how he craved Ilya’s praise.

“Not nothing! You planned the perfect day in secret, hid an entire Spanish feast in this tote,” Ilya picked up the bag for comedic effect when he heard something in the bottom swishing around. He paused, Shane’s eyes growing wide as he reached in.

“Wait…”

Ilya produced a lone bottle of lube, an almost cruel grin spreading across his cheeks as he caught Shane red handed.

“I knew you had exterior motives.”

“It’s ulterior motives!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ilya slid out of the trunk of the car onto his feet, and turned to face Shane, caging him in with his arms, “You’d really let me fuck you out here?”

“Not out here, in the car.” Shane was already squirming under Ilya’s stare. Shane liked to pretend Ilya was the crude, overly sexual one in their relationship, but over the years Ilya had learned that was patently false. It was true Ilya was more outwardly demanding, but Shane never failed to surprise him in the ways he wanted Ilya. Wanted to be taken by Ilya. His formerly repressed husband was a freak, as evidenced by his premeditated scheme to get railed in the backseat.

“Ah, so this was part of date planning, yes? How did you plan for me to fuck you? Only so many ways to fuck in the car.” 

Shane answered by shoving Ilya aside, and walking towards the back doors. Ilya watched in giddy anticipation as Shane lowered the back row of seats flat and covered it with a blanket before turning to face him again. Ilya loved to watch Shane in his rituals, whether it be his consistent yoga routine, or the way he just had to fold all his clothes as he undressed for Ilya. Shane did everything with such deliberation, always leaving Ilya hungry for his next move.

“Get in.” The demand had Ilya scrambling into the backseat. It was roomier than any of his cars would’ve been, but cramped enough that he had to bend his legs so they didn’t dangle off the edge of the open trunk. Shane followed him in a much more measured fashion, sliding into Ilya while laying on his side facing away from him. He arched his back slightly, beckoning Ilya to curl himself into Shane’s form. Ilya adjusted to lay flush on his side next to Shane, extending his arm so Shane’s head could rest on his bicep.

“It’ll be easiest to do it like this,” Shane supplied. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of his swim trunks and pulled them off, his hands reaching behind to tug at Ilya’s own. Shane’s brazen demand was enough to make Ilya not dwell long on the delicious thought that Shane absolutely, without a doubt, did extensive research to find the optimal position for car sex. 

Ilya shucked his own shorts off, humming contentedly at the intoxicating feeling of Shane’s naked body against his. He pushed cock against the swell of Shane’s ass, grinding slowly to chase any sort of friction he could get. He was already incredibly hard – it never took much when his husband was so goddamn needy for it. 

“The lube, Ilya.” 

Ilya grabbed for the bottle, pouring a generous amount on his fingers before hesitating. “I thought we were going to go slow tonight. Don’t want to give it up too fast on our first date, no?”

Shane looked over his shoulder with a smoldering glare. “Ilya, if you don’t start fingering me right now I’m getting in the front seat and driving us home.”

“Fuck, Hollander, such a little slut.” Not wanting to further test the limits of Shane’s already lacking patience, Ilya wasted no time teasing as he dragged his hand lower where Shane needed it. He began to circle his fingers around his rim, slicking him fully with the lube before pressing in slightly with the tip of his finger. Shane gasped at the intrusion. 

Ilya couldn’t resist using his free hand to grip Shane’s chin up towards him so he could smash his lips to his, swallowing his soft, whining pants that got louder with each drag of Ilya’s finger.

“Can you take another?”   

Shane nodded, unable to speak as Ilya pushed a second finger inside him. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Stretching so nicely around my hand.” Ilya decided to reward him with a curl of his fingers, earning a deep moan in return as he grazed Shane’s prostate. 

Ilya’s eyes wandered to Shane’s neglected dick, already weeping from him just playing with his ass. “So wet for me already, I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re about to spill.” The look on Shane’s face was pure ecstasy, and Ilya wondered if it would be worth it to forgo fucking him just to see him cum while riding his fingers. Maybe another time, but right now Ilya needed to be inside him. 

After adding a third finger and making sure Shane was ready for him, Ilya lathered his hand in more lube, moving to stroke himself fully from shaft to tip. He gripped Shane’s knee, bending it up so he could enter him with ease. Shane twisted at his torso, wrapping his arm around Ilya’s shoulder to bring them even closer. 

“Please, Ilya, I need it. Need your dick so bad.” 

Ilya could only stare at his husband, his eyes glassy with want, as he pleaded for Ilya’s cock to be seated inside him. Ilya had known for years, for over a decade even, that he would never tire of the way Shane looked at him. He never wanted to wake up a single day where Shane Hollander wasn’t looking at him expectantly to make him feel good. Ilya would do whatever he needed for the rest of time to give his husband exactly what he wanted.

“Please, fuck me.” Shane’s voice had gone hoarse, gravely with desire as his gaze bore into Ilya’s. Ilya snapped back into his body, gripping Shane’s knee firmly, his hands finding purchase as he pushed into him in one slow, languid slide. Shane’s head jerked back, pressing into Ilya’s shoulder as he cried out. 

Ilya continued to rock into him, burying himself as deep as he could manage with the angle and the lack of space he had to work with. Shane’s chest heaved at almost eye level with him, and Ilya couldn’t resist moving his lips to envelope the small bud of his nipple as his hips snapped forward. 

“Ilya.” Shane all but breathed out his name, unable to annunciate as Ilya sucked harder, letting his tongue circling over the peak while he held it softly between his teeth. 

Ilya fucked him slow for a while, sloppily kissing him whenever Shane could manage, and getting off on the sound of his moans when Shane was too overstimulated to do anything but take him deep. They were both sweating now, the sound of bodies sliding together sounding obscene against the backdrop of rustling leaves and soft bird calls. 

Ilya hadn’t even reached over to touch Shane’s cock yet, an exercise in pure self-restraint. He selfishly wanted to drag this out, their first time fucking in a car was not something he would ever be able to experience again.   

“Harder.” Ilya loved when Shane asked for what he wanted. Ilya pulled back, almost all the way out, before slamming back into Shane. He cried out loudly, and Ilya thought with some level of satisfaction that if anyone was nearby, they would be lucky enough to hear the way Shane unravelled for him. 

“Faster, Ilya, fuck I need it, please.” Ilya propped himself up on his elbow, trying to find the leverage to plow his husband like he was begging. But the car roof was too low, the backseat too cramped to fully fuck Shane like he deserved. He bit out a frustrated curse in Russian.

“I need to take you from behind, moya lyubov, can we do that?” Ilya knew they’d have to get out of the car to do so. 

“Yes.” Shane answered without hesitation. A tingle of excitement crawled up Ilya’s spine. They’d sort of, kind of, hooked up in public before. But it was always behind the safety of tinted windows. But fucking Shane out in the open like this, that was something Ilya had only dreamed about in his most exhibitionist fantasies. 

“Such a good boy, being so brave for me,” Ilya whispered as he tempered his thrusts. He pulled out slowly, Shane grousing at the sudden lack of fullness. Ilya watched his hole flutter in his absence, insatiably hungry for Ilya to fill it.

Shane moved quickly, desperate to resume, grabbing Ilya’s hand and dragging him to the front of the car. Ilya had thought he would have just taken Shane with his hands gripping the lip of the trunk, but it was obvious Shane had other ideas.

Shane looked over his shoulder at Ilya with a devastating expression of want, and bent himself over the hood. Ilya was speechless. He watched Shane’s back muscles contort as he spread his arms out to brace himself, his lower back arching up to present himself so beautifully for Ilya. Ilya couldn’t help but run his hands from Shane’s shoulders to his ass, worshiping every hardened curve as he explored. 

“Go ahead, take it,” Shane offered. 

And who was Ilya to deny his husband? Ilya lined up his cock at his entrance before pushing himself deep, moaning loudly as he was consumed once again by Shane’s perfect heat. He allowed himself one second to steady himself before Shane got impatient, marvelling at the way the ring of muscle wrapped tightly around his dick.

“You were fucking made for me.”

“I know.” And God, if that confirmation didn’t activate something primal inside Ilya.

He gripped Shane’s hips roughly, his thumbs pressing deep into the shallow dimples at the base of his spine, and began to fuck him in earnest.

“You’re mine Shane,” Ilya was drunk off seeing his husband like this, the muted glow of what was left of the setting sun illuminating his bowed form.

“Always yours.” 

Ilya had wanted to claim Shane like this for years, openly, unashamed, proud. It had taken time to get to this place, but now that they had it, Ilya would never go back. He would make sure everyone knew Shane was his. 

Without thinking, he leaned over and sunk his teeth into Shane’s shoulder, eliciting a sob that echoed around them. 

“Ilya, fuck, I’m gonna –” 

Jesus, he hadn’t even touched Shane’s dick yet. Hurriedly, Ilya reached around to grip Shane and stroke him before he came untouched. Ilya wanted Shane to feel him everywhere. 

Shane shuddered violently as he came, hot cum spurting over Ilya’s clenched fist as his body went limp while Ilya continued to fuck into him. Shane took him so well, even when he was spent and overstimulated. 

Ilya finally released Shane’s dick, dragging his cum soaked fingers to his parted lips. Shane took the digit in his mouth, curling his tongue around Ilya to suck him clean. The sight was enough to drive Ilya over the edge. 

He pulled out with a shout, painting Shane’s back with veins of his cum. The markings streaked down his back, gathering to pool into the dimples right above his ass. Ilya dipped his hands in the substance, slicking them with his essence before fucking his cum into Shane’s hole with his fingers. Shane shivered, his nerve endings on fire as he rode the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

Ilya could only admire his creation, his husband messy and debauched, all for him.

Ilya pulled Shane up and turned him around to stand flush with his chest, supporting his weight as he went completely pliant in his arms. 

“I love you.” Ilya kissed Shane softly, grasping at his husband like he was afraid he would float away.

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane responded, and Ilya had never heard a sweeter thing.