Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander

Additional Tags:

Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Top Shane Hollander, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, this one is very dumbass4dumbass, They are so deep in the situationship here there are no tuna melts in sight, Coming Untouched, 2014-2016 Montage in Episode: s01e04 Rose (Heated Rivalry), Rimming

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-04 Updated: 2026-05-06 Words: 8,987 Chapters: 2/?

anything you can do, I can do better

Summary

"And is like I said, very easy to do. You just lay back and let someone else do work. Could do it in my sleep, would not be problem at all for me to come hands-free.”

Hollander scowled, full competitive personality shining through. “Prove it.”

“Fine, I will,” Ilya snapped back.

Hollander's eyes went wide, and so did Ilya's when he realized what he had promised. His words hung in the air between them, suddenly heavy with implication.

Notes

This one is set not too long into the situationship after Las Vegas, so feelings are thoroughly bottled up, the Metros are on their way to the Stanley Cup, Ilya is a fullblown fuckboy, and there are no tuna melts in sight.

A note about consent in this chapter that may be overly precautious but I give it anyways: everyone here is consenting and into it, but Ilya during this first chapter is very much not comfortable at first, and I could see that feeling like dubious consent for some people, so I'm warning you up front if that's sensitive for you. In later chapters we will get enthusiastic consent!

Chapter 1: Sooner or later, I can be greater than you.

Chapter Notes

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“Rozanov, shit, Roz- ah-”

“Are you-? Fuck-”

Ilya barely manages to pull out of Hollander before collapsing next to him on the bed. He would rank that as one of the best orgasms of his life if it weren't the case that Hollander continually forced Ilya to update that list, so it was becoming pointless to keep track. Either way, Ilya felt bone-deep satisfied and utterly exhausted.

To his left, Hollander looked much the same. The man hadn't even rolled back over yet from where he had collapsed onto the bed face-first. It would almost look like he was trying to suffocate himself into the pillow if Ilya couldn't see Hollander's shoulders move with each deep gulp of air.

Silence filled the hotel room, broken only by the sound of their panting breaths as they both came down from the edge. The cautious part of Ilya warned him that now is when he should be getting up and showering so he can leave, but fuck it, he had just seen stars and gotten Shane Hollander off without even touching him. He wanted to enjoy the afterglow a little longer. He took off the condom, tied it off, and chucked it at the trashcan, then returned to his basking in the afterglow while he caught his breath.

Ilya's panting finally slowed down, and he realized the room felt too quiet. He looked over at Hollander, who was still face planted into the bed. “Hollander? Hollander, did I kill you with my dick?”

Hollander let out a deep huff of air all at once, rolling over finally. “Shut up, Rozanov.”

“Sorry for being worried I was going to be framed for murder.” Ilya grumbled, “What do I say when police ask why I am alone with dead body covered in cum and lube? ‘Sorry, Mr. Police, I made him cum hands-free so hard he died?’”

Hollander whacked him with a pillow, “Oh my god, you asshole, shut up already.”

“Nooo,” Ilya grinned, “I want to talk more about how you cum so easily for me. I get my dick in you and then don't need to do more, that is how much you like it.”

Hollander flushed. Ilya wanted to prod more and see if he could get that blush to deepen.

“Never have I seen someone cum so easy, no hands needed!” Ilya purred and leaned in, “Should I feel proud, or is it more that you are just so easy?”

Hollander's brows scrunched together, like one of the angry cats Ilya has seen on the internet. “Fuck off. Like you could even come untouched if you tried.”

Ilya stiffened. That was a challenge, and Hollander was the one person that Ilya could never stop from wanting to beat, or at least argue he could.

“Is much harder to make someone come untouched.” Ilya protested. “Requires skill, and stamina. You would not know, you only experience other side with me doing it so well. You could not make anyone do it.”

Hollander's brows dipped even further, into the competitive glare Ilya often saw at face-off when the scores are tied.

“Yeah, right. Like you have so much experience getting off without your dick being involved.” He paused, unsure. “Uh, do you?”

Ilya paused too, feeling like he had suddenly landed in a conversation topic he would not have broached if he had the choice.

“...No,” he said guardedly. “I have only done what we do.”

“Oh,” Hollander looked surprised, like he couldn't comprehend someone not wanting to get fucked. Awkwardly, he said, “Like cause you just didn't want to? Or just didn't find someone who wanted to…?”

Ilya sniffed, deeply offended on the principle that someone wouldn't want to fuck him. “My ass looks like this, and you think people do not want? No, is me not wanting.”

Ilya saw Hollander's eyes drift down to look at his ass, and he smirked when he saw Hollander visibly lose his train of thought. It didn’t last long though, as Hollander’s eyes flashed with realization, and he regained his momentum.

“So you don't have any experience then! You don't know at all if you could do it. At least I have experience being on top,” He stopped and winced ever so slightly, clearly trying to hide his grimace but failing.

Ilya couldn't resist the opening, “Oh, and you were so good at it?”

Hollander's mouth opened to protest, but Ilya cut him off.

“And is like I said, very easy to do. You just lay back and let someone else do work. Could do it in my sleep, would not be problem at all for me to come hands free.”

Hollander scowled, full competitive personality shining through. “Prove it.”

“Fine, I will,” Ilya snapped back.

Hollander's eyes went wide, and so did Ilya's when he realized what he had promised. His words hung in the air between them, suddenly heavy with implication.

Hollander swallowed, and somewhat nervously said, “I guess we will see if you're able to then.”

“Yes. We will.” Ilya said, with bravado he didn't feel all of sudden, “Like I said, easy.”

The silence stretched then, both of them staring the other down until Hollander broke it, looking at the clock on the nightstand. “Uh, next time though. I need to get back.”

Ilya nodded quickly. “Next time.”

“Cool.” Hollander said, then stared at him again.

“Yes. Cool.” Ilya stared back.

Silence filled the room again, giving Ilya plenty of space to think, What the fuck did I just agree to?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Thankfully, their next game together was a few weeks away, giving Ilya time to come to terms with what he had agreed to.

He was not panicking. Panicking was not something Russians did, and it certainly was not something Ilya did. The anxiety he felt was about other things, like the season, and his family, and definitely not the fact that next time he saw Hollander it would be very different from his normal encounters with Hollander.

So what that he had never even been fingered before? He meant what he said about it being easy to just lay back and let someone else do the work. Hollander and Sasha had both clearly enjoyed the experience, so this was really just an opportunity for Ilya to see what was so good about it, check it off the list of sex positions and kinks he had tried, mock Hollander a bit, and go on with his life just like before.

He pictured it, Hollander between his legs and leaning over him, fingers shining with lube. He very quickly stopped picturing it.

Maybe it was time for a run. His brain suddenly seemed interested in the idea of running very fast, possibly away from things.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Ilya went on a lot of runs after that, thinking, and not thinking, then thinking again. At one point, he makes the decision to try fingering himself first.

Like getting practice in before an important game. He thinks to himself as he coats his fingers with lube.

He starts to reach down between his legs, and ends up with his hand on his cock instead, stroking himself and thinking of Hollander. This was just the warm-up, then he would get into the actual practice.

He has plenty of experience picturing Hollander’s body so this part is easy. He pictures the man’s abs, his arms that were toned, but concealed how much strength the man truly had. His ass, that was also quite muscular, and which Ilya knew the shape and feel of very well after years of doing everything he could to it. His hand sped up and he bit his lip.

He pictured Hollander’s face next, the way that he looked when he took Ilya into his mouth, lips pink and freckles sprinkled across his cheeks. The way his eyes always looked that little bit darker, and focused, like there was nowhere Hollander would rather be than on his knees in front of Ilya.

Ilya started to creep his other hand down between his legs, not stopping the movement of the hand stroking away at his cock urgently.

He was getting closer and decided to go for an old favorite for this next part, so he thought about that first night in Montreal at Hollander’s sex condo. The first night he opened Hollander up and fucked him. The first time he made him come untouched, shaking and clenching around Ilya.

His hand is starting to trace behind his balls when he remembers the feeling of excitement he had had over finally getting a response from Hollander that night. The built up anticipation that had made the actual sex so much better. Getting that address had been a hard-fought victory won after two years of baiting and seduction.

Ilya’s fingers have just begun to brush up against his rim when suddenly he is hit by the memory of Hollander throwing him against the wall angrily that night, swearing at him about the sexting. He remembers the firm press of Hollander’s hands against him, the look in his eyes as he held Ilya in place.

His brain stutters. The memory of Ilya slowly opening up Hollander that night inverts, flips. Suddenly, Hollander is on top instead, leaning over Ilya as he thrusts his fingers in. Ilya pictures himself, legs pushed up and exposed, as Hollander-

He comes, gasping. His fingertip rests against his hole, just on the verge of pressing inside.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

After that, Ilya decides it is better for Hollander to get the full experience of how much skill goes into topping. He wasn’t going to make it easier for the man by learning how to get himself off with his fingers beforehand. Let Hollander learn it on the job, and then Ilya really can just lay back and let someone else do the work.

The idea doesn't quite sit right with Ilya, but this would be a one time thing, and once Ilya’s point was proven, they would go right back into Ilya giving Hollander what he craved.

Ilya still believed that this would be easy on his end. He meant what he said to Hollander, it couldn’t be that difficult to come untouched, even if Hollander was one of the only people he had seen do it. At the end of the day, Hollander was only second best. If he could do it, then that means Ilya should be able to as well.

Their next game was only a week away. When he got himself off next, Ilya made sure to keep his mind on images of faceless women, and not freckled men.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The time passes quicker than the gaps between seeing Hollander normally go for Ilya, and it’s soon that Ilya is stepping out of his cab to the back entrance of Hollander’s sex condo after stopping first at his hotel room for a quick post-game shower. He feels nervous in a way he hasn’t felt with Hollander in a long time but at least he has the buoying satisfaction of having just won a difficult game to help curb the nerves.

He enters the door code and steps inside. The door clicks shut behind him, the sound overly loud. Hollander is waiting for him in the stairwell, looking somewhat awkward with his thumbs hooked into his front pockets. Ilya fights down a surge of fondness at the sight.

“Rozanov.” Hollander's voice is flat in the way he often sounds when the man isn’t sure how to act in the current scenario.

Ilya wasn't quite sure about the situation either, but he was a much better actor. He forces a cocky expression onto his face. “Hollander, you are ready to eat words now?”

Hollander’s eyebrows do that cute scrunch together. “I’m ready to see you admit you were wrong, actually.”

“Ah, you will wait long time for that.” Ilya shrugs off his jacket, and takes satisfaction in the way that Hollander’s eyes instantly lock onto his biceps as they are revealed. “You already have bad streak for winning tonight, I think it will continue.”

Hollander’s eyes jump back to Ilya’s face as he scowls. “God, you are such an asshole.”

“You always call me sweetest things, Hollander.” Ilya purrs. “Save pet names for main event, yes?”

Hollander’s stormy expression clears at the reminder, and suddenly he has that awkward expression back on again, and the flat affect to his voice is back as he says, “Did you, uh-”

Ilya nods to cut him off before he can finish that sentence. “Yes, before this.”

That had been an uncomfortable shower, but Ilya had gotten through it semi-hard with a dedication to not thinking too hard about what he was doing. Ilya was an asshole, but not so much of an asshole that he wasn’t going to make sure his was completely clean for this.

Hollander nodded, then did a little motion towards the staircase like he was beckoning a guest forward and not someone who had been in this condo, and inside Hollander, many times.

Ilya rolled his eyes, but started up the stairs. Best to just get the “proving Ilya can come hands-free” part done with so they could get onto the real main event. He hoped that if they were fast enough, there would be enough time for him to get hard again. It would be a shame to miss out on one of the few opportunities he had each year to fuck Hollander. The memories of how Hollander felt around him had kept Ilya warm on many a cold Boston night, and he planned on making new memories tonight if he could.

But first, proving his point. It was always better fucking Hollander in the afterglow of victory anyways.

As soon as Hollander enters the apartment behind Ilya, Ilya spins around to slam Hollander up against the door and kiss him. Hollander tenses at first, then melts into it in the way he always does around Ilya, returning the kiss with the same passion.

Ilya licks into Hollander’s mouth, kissing him deeply before moving to give the side of his neck the same treatment. He wishes he could bite down, and suck a bruise into Hollander’s neck. He wants to mark Hollander in such a way that all of his teammates would see and wonder at who had been the one to sleep with golden boy Hollander, who had been the one to see what he looked like when he was gasping, sweaty and unraveled.

He’s thinking about this, and focused on the tremble to Hollander’s breath as he licks the curve of his ear, when Hollander’s hand moves down his back to land on his ass and squeeze.

Ilya starts, body tensing at the reminder of where this was going. He instantly wishes he could time travel back a second just to undo the reaction.

Hollander immediately lifts his hand away. “Uh, sorry?”

Ilya recovers quickly and covers his reaction with a leer, “So impatient, you must have thought a lot about this, haven't you?”

Hollander scowls, but he flushes in a way that makes it clear he had actually thought about this quite a bit. Maybe even as much as Ilya has. “Shut up, let's just get to the bed already.”

Ilya steps back, and does the same little doorman gesture that Hollander had done before. “Please, after you.”

Hollander scowls at him, then turns to walk away, stripping off his shirt as he does so. Ilya trails behind him, enjoying the view of Hollander’s shoulder muscles working as he pulls the shirt off. And the view of his ass as he walked. Really, just the view of Hollander overall.

Once they get to the bedroom, Ilya waits long enough for Hollander to get his clothes off and fold everything before he pounces, grabbing onto Hollander and grabbing his chin to force his mouth open for Ilya to plunge his tongue inside. Ilya had stripped completely while Hollander folded his clothes, so when Hollander moans into his mouth and grabs at Ilya, his hands land onto Ilya's naked hips.

Ilya walks Hollander backwards towards the bed as he continues to kiss him. A push has Hollander falling down onto the bed with a bounce. Ilya follows him down, mouth still biting away at his. He ends up propped over Hollander with one hand as support as the other trails down to wrap his hand around the both of them and make a loose fist he can thrust into, rubbing against Hollander's cock as he does.

“Fuck,” Hollander pants, looking down at where Ilya is holding them together. He seems lost in the pleasure of it already, until his brains kick back in and he says, this time in a completely different tone, “Fuck, wait.”

Ilya stops immediately, pulling his hand away even as his cock aches with the loss, “What, what is wrong?”

“The bet, Rozanov. We have to-” Hollander stops, flushing. “You know.”

“Ah, yes.” Ilya swallows. “That.”

Shane looks up at him hesitantly. “It’s probably best if we swap, I guess?”

“Swap?”

“Like if you roll over, here, come on.”

In a sudden motion, Hollander hooks his leg around Ilya and rolls them over to flip their positions. Ilya blinks up at Hollander, suddenly cornered underneath Hollander with the man propped up on his hands over him, blocking out the rest of the room so that all Ilya can see and feel is Hollander.

“Fuck, Hollander.” Unexpectedly, a heat stirs in him. He knows the man is strong, he sees it often on the ice, but it’s not normally something he is reminded of in bed. He’s used to being turned on by Hollander melting at his touch, bending at Ilya’s commands. This is… different. It’s a new facet to his attraction to Hollander, one he did not expect. He feels his dick twitch against his stomach, but thankfully it goes unnoticed by Hollander.

“This ok?” Hollander’s voice is quiet, and there is a gentle tone to it that Ilya internally flinches away from.

He couldn’t let Hollander keep looking at him like that, like Ilya was something to be careful with, someone to care about. He puts on the same casual tone he uses to be an asshole for chirps on the ice.

“Yes, yes, is ok. Can we prove I am right about everything now?”

It works. The gentleness of Hollander’s expression is definitely gone as he bites out, “Fine, turn over.”

Ilya pictures it, him face down and ass up underneath Hollander, and instantly shakes his head. “No, like this is fine.”

“It will be a lot easier though-”

“Oh, you are admitting it is hard to do this? Worried you do not have what it takes?”

“Fuck off, Rozanov, Jesus.” Hollander scowls, and grabs one of the many pillows and says, “Put this under yourself at least. Asshole.”

“Yes, my asshole, finally we are getting to point of this.” Ilya snarks back, but puts the pillow in place. When he looks up again, it is to see that Hollander has shuffled to a kneeling position between Ilya’s legs. He swallows at the sight, then represses a shiver when Hollander puts his hands on his legs, not pushing them open yet, just holding onto them.

Abruptly, Ilya regrets the position. For one thing, being here in the bed where he had first fucked Hollander, in the very same position he opened Hollander up the first time made the whole thing feel virginal in a way Ilya strongly disliked when it was turned onto himself. For another thing, he is suddenly envious of how being ass up for this actually would have kept him from needing to look at Hollander while he opened him up. It was far too revealing to ask for that now however. Ilya was already too far in to turn back on any of this.

Hollander huffed out a breath, and finally moved to part Ilya's legs. He meets resistance at first, before Ilya overrides his instinctive reaction and lets Hollander push his legs open.

Ilya's eyes immediately go to the ceiling. He would need to make eye contact again with Hollander at some point during this, but right now he was going to delay that as long as he can.

As long as he can ends up being around 30 seconds, as he feels Hollander part his legs, then the man just… stops.

Exasperated, full of nerves that Ilya would not admit at gunpoint, and trying to figure out why Hollander was edging him when they hadn't even begun, Ilya shoots his eyes back down at the man with a scowl.

Hollander is frozen, staring between Ilya's legs at his hole with a look of unconcealed panic. The sight of someone staring so intently at a piece of his anatomy no one has stared at before initially makes Ilya want to squirm with discomfort, but then it goes on long enough that the discomfort turns over to impatience. He gives a kick to Hollander's side. “Hollander, you are staring.”

Hollander jolts and looks up at Ilya, “What?”

“Did you forget how this works? Finger goes inside.” Ilya gestures down to his ass, just to make sure Hollander really understands the mechanics of what they were doing.

“Yes, I fucking know how it works.” Hollander snaps, then his eyes trail back down and he tenses up again.

Ilya lets him panic for another long moment, then says, “Sooo, is this happening today, or…?”

Ilya's ability to aggravate Hollander has always worked to break through the man's panic before, and that holds true now, as Hollander grumbles, “Shut up, Rozanov,” and grabs at the lube.

It's as Hollander is coating his fingers in it that Ilya's body seems to catch up to what is about to happen. Ilya was laying here, legs spread and exposed, with Hollander over him about to take his ass virginity. Fuck, why the hell had he agreed to this? His body tensed, and a flood of heat rushed through him, followed by a trickle of cold nervousness.

Easy, remember? He told himself. Show Hollander you were right, then fuck him till he is the one coming untouched. No big deal.

“Hey.”

Ilya looks up again at Hollander, and is alarmed to see a concerned look on his face.

“You don't have to do this, ok?” Hollander continues, “We can just do it our normal way, and forget the deal.”

Ilya is overcome with how much he hates the idea of two things right now. The first was Hollander looking at him with that concerned, gentle expression, like Ilya was a scared animal that needed coaxing. The second, and this was the one that felt rooted deep in Ilya's soul, was conceding in any way to Hollander.

Ilya immediately shakes his head, “No.”

Hollander’s brows go up, then he seems to take Ilya at his word and nods before moving a finger down to brush up against Ilya's hole.

Ilya is ready this time, and forces his body to keep from reacting visibly to the touch, but he still lets out a slow exhale. Hollander seems to take this as a sign to continue as he starts to rub his finger in a gentle circle against Ilya's rim, still not pushing in.

Ilya's stomach is doing flips inside him, his body feels overheated, yet at the same time it feels like he could start shivering at any moment. He needs to move this along. He gives another kick to Hollander and says, “Today please, I have a flight to catch.”

Hollander scowls at him and says, “Fine, I guess there goes that method.” He leans in a little more, and Ilya feels a pressure pushing on his rim. He sucks in a breath, his whole body tense as he waits to feel Hollander inside him.

The pressure stays where it was, just outside his rim, not even a fingertip inside yet.

Ilya groans, long and loud, “Seriously, Hollander?”

“It's not my fault! You're so clenched, you have to let me in.”

Ilya realizes that unfortunately Hollander might be right, as his body is currently tight with tension all over, including probably his ass. Ilya was being betrayed by his own asshole. He was working very hard to make this not be a big deal, so he could just get it done with quickly, and that (literal) asshole has to make this harder for him and show Hollander his nerves in the process?

The pressure at his rim falls away, and Hollander is suddenly shuffling further down the bed so that his mouth is hovering over Ilyas's dick.

“What?” Ilya asks, “You are giving up? You love sucking my cock too much to even try anything else?”

Hollander glares at him, and shuts Ilya up by ducking down and sucking the head of Ilya's cock into his mouth. Ilya's head falls back with a groan as the wet heat envelops him, then it shoots back up to stare indignantly at Hollander when it's taken away a moment later.

“Now that I have your attention,” Hollander says, looking slightly smug. “This doesn't really work well unless you're hard, and uh.”

Ilya looked down at his dick, which had apparently mostly softened in the past few minutes. This truly was a betrayal. His asshole was one thing, he barely interacted with it, but his dick? Who he showed loving attention to everyday, and who he gave so many gifts? After everything he had done for it over the years, now is when it turns on him? In front of Hollander, no less?

Hollander continues, unaware of Ilya's crisis over being backstabbed by his own anatomy. “Obviously I won't do this later on, otherwise it's not coming untouched, but starting like this will help you relax a bit and it will be easier to find your prostate too.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, “Easier? Because you will see so much better with my dick down your throat?”

Hollander nodded, “I looked it up once, when you're hard it actually makes the prostate easier to find, because it moves the gland-”

“Oh my god,” Ilya moaned, and not even in the sexy way. This night was going terribly. “Hollander, how are you making fingering so boring?”

Hollander scowled at him, and apparently decided that his version of having the last word would be swallowing down Ilya's entire dick in one go. Ilya groaned at the feeling, and moved a hand to grip Hollander's hair as the man started to bob his head with small movements that kept most of Ilya inside his mouth. Ilya could feel his dick, who he decided to forgive for now, start to harden in Hollander's mouth.

This was familiar territory for Ilya, and soon Ilya was enjoying the feeling and sight of Hollander moving his mouth up and down Ilya's fully hard cock. Just as Hollander is doing something truly talented with his tongue, Ilya feels the return of the slick finger pressing at his asshole.

Before he can tense up again, Hollander swallows him down until his nose is pressed to Ilya's pelvis. At the same time, the finger pushes in, and this time makes it past Ilya's rim, pushing inside.

Ilya gasps at the dual sensations. The intruding finger is decidedly not sexy for him right now, it feels uncomfortable more than anything, but it's countered by Hollander starting to bob his head again, this time in a slow rhythm that matches the slow drag in and out of his finger.

Ilya feels a heat stir in his stomach, surprisingly different to what he's experienced before. He still doesn't quite see the appeal, but he knew that it normally wasn't an immediate thing, and there was certainly something to be said for having Hollander so fully focused on him, especially when it was paired with the tight suction of his mouth and pink lips stretched wide around Ilya. Ilya grips Hollander's hair, and lets himself just feel all of it. Without thinking about it, one of his legs creeps up to hook around Hollander.

Now that he is relaxed into it a bit more, the finger thrusting inside him has started to feel a bit better, and speed up. Hollander quickens his pace with his mouth to match, and the tension in Ilya's gut starts to sharpen into something new.

The finger pushes in deeper on the next stroke, and Ilya grits out another moan through clenched teeth, “Fuck, Hollander.”

Hollander answers with a moan of his own, vibrating around Ilya's dick, and he feels the pressure at his rim widen, as a second finger pushes in and thrusts upwards, sending a jolt through Ilya. It's only two fingers, but right then, it's more than Ilya has ever felt before, and as Hollander spreads his fingers out, Ilya can feel the stretch at his rim, widening him out around Hollander. For Hollander.

Ilya's hips jerk forward slightly, either away from Hollander's fingers or into his mouth, he isn't sure, and Hollander follows him with another hard thrust forward with his fingers, this time curling them as he pushes them in further than Ilya has felt yet. Ilya feels them brush something inside him with a forceful jab, and it's like a riptide pulling him under, drowning him in pleasure until he realizes he's gone from hard to on the very edge of coming in just a few seconds.

Hollander is still going, sucking at his cock with vigor and thrusting his fingers in deep, and Ilya is moaning so hard it's a struggle to get any words out, “Hollander, fuck, Holland-”

His hips thrust again, this time back into Hollander's fingers because his whole body is a traitor apparently, and the motion drives Hollander’s fingers directly into Ilya’s prostate, sending fireworks sparkling behind his closed eyelids as he tips his head back, lets out a noise he is certain he has never made before in his entire life, and comes down Hollander's throat.

Hollander makes a noise of surprise around Ilya's dick, and the feeling of it fries his nerve endings even further, pushing out another pathetic moan and spurt of cum from Ilya. Thankfully, Hollander holds still after that for the overstimulation to ebb enough that he can take his mouth off of Ilya without wrecking him even further.

Shane looks down at Ilya, who is still panting and borderline trembling from an orgasm unlike any he has ever had before, and says, “Holy shit.”

Ilya catches his breath long enough to register what the fuck just happened, and realizes abruptly that he needs to shut Hollander up, now.

He surges up the bed to grab at Shane’s shoulders and push him down, flipping their positions. He dives in with an open-mouthed kiss, licking in past Shane’s lips to taste himself, like he can hide the evidence of what happened if he licks Hollander’s mouth clean.

Shane makes a startled noise into Ilya’s mouth which quickly turns into a moan as Ilya moves a hand up to pinch at a nipple. Shane’s eyes close, and Ilya moves to mouth down Shane’s neck as he reaches for the lube that is still sitting to the side of them.

He moves his mouth to the untouched nipple and starts to bite there just as he takes one hand and shoves Hollander’s knee up to his chest.

“Wh- holy shit, fuck!” Shane yelps, first in surprise, then in pleasure, as Ilya pushes a finger in and starts a merciless rhythm, aiming directly for where he knows the other man’s prostate is. Hollander gasps, and Ilya bites down harder on Shane’s nipple on his next thrust in, adding a second finger as he does so.

By the time Ilya has three fingers rubbing away at Hollander’s prostate till his legs are trembling around Ilya, Ilya’s traitor dick has hardened again, and at Hollander’s moan of, “Fuck, come on, Rozanov, fuck me,” he pulls out his fingers, moves Hollander’s legs up onto his shoulders, and fucks in in one smooth motion.

Both of them groan in unison, and then the sound is drowned out by the noise of the headboard hitting the wall as Ilya tried as hard as he could to fuck the memory of what just happened out of Hollander.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Despite Ilya’s best efforts, it doesn’t work. He had ducked into the shower as soon as they both finished, which means he is clean of any physical evidence when Hollander says, “So that absolutely was not coming untouched.”

Ilya stiffens, “No, Hollander, because you sabotaged me.” Ilya had had plenty of time to think in the shower about his argument for this, and even doublechecked the definition of sabotage on his phone to make sure he was ready for this.

“I didn’t think you would come that quick!”

“Oh, sorry, how is this my fault? You were deepthroating me!”

Shane blushes, like he hasn’t deepthroated Ilya every single time he has seen him after their first hookup.

Ilya determinedly ignores how endeared he is by the sight of that freckled blush as he continues, “I could have done it, if I was not sabotaged by blowjobs. If anything, this is proof it would be no problem for me.”

“No way,” Shane protests, “This doesn’t prove shit!”

“And whose fault is that?” Ilya deadpanned.

“Sure, fine, it’s my fault, whatever.” Shane says, “But that doesn’t mean you get to just say you did it when you absolutely did not. We need a redo.”

Ilya froze. “A redo.”

Shane nods stubbornly. “Yeah, one more go, this time I keep my mouth and hands away from your dick, and then we really will see if you can come untouched.”

Ilya hesitated. This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a quick victory for future gloating, and something which did not change his arrangement with Hollander at all. Now there were plans for a second appointment of Hollander’s fingers with Ilya’s ass, and Ilya still hadn’t processed how intense his orgasm had been this time. Still, refusing meant saying that he couldn’t do something Hollander did often, and Ilya refused to be second-place to Hollander, especially in the bedroom.

There was also a curiosity nibbling away at him about how different it felt. He was used to his orgasms being a slow build, centered around his dick. This had been a whole body sensation, hitting him forcefully like someone had hooked him in the gut and pulled him completely over the edge without asking. He wondered how good it could be a second time. If this is what it had felt like when Ilya was barely letting Hollander in, how would it feel to truly come untouched?

At his core, Ilya was a hedonist. He didn't leave pleasure unchecked once he had gotten a taste of it, and this had been more than enough to make him curious, even if he did still want to run away at the thought of Hollander looking at him like that again.

“Fine,” He bit out. “Next time.”

Shane huffs out a breath. “Next time.”

Ilya squared his shoulders, and started to put his clothes back on. He had a plane to catch, and plans to make for how to come untouched and show absolutely no vulnerabilities while doing it.

“Hey,” Ilya looks up again to find Hollander had crossed the room to stand in front of him. Hollander puts out a hand to cup the back of Ilya's neck and pull him into a kiss. Ilya leans into it without thinking about it, eyes falling shut as he does.

Shane pulls back slowly, and says, “Next time, ok?” There was a look in Shane's eyes he couldn't decipher, something soft and thoughtful.

Ilya blinked at him, one thought ringing out inside him.

Fuck.

Chapter End Notes

Some notes:
-It's so funny going from writing my post-TLG first time bottoming fic to writing this fic because in that one Ilya is very much so like, "this is intimidating but it's Shane, so I can be vulnerable and not in control ❤️"
Meanwhile fuckboy Ilya is like, "If I am vulnerable in front of Hollander for 1 second then I think I will die actually."
-Also yall, this one fought me so hard, I basically wrote it a few sentences at a time. Hopefully, now that Ilya has a taste of bottoming, the next chapter will go easier.
-At several points, I went, "It's just smut, I don't need to be this serious about it" and then Jacob Tierney came to me in a dream and told me, "Even if it is smut, that isn't a reason to not take it seriously. Their whole relationship and how they know each other is through the sex, so that is how they fall in love." So then I went back to taking it very seriously. There's plot in this yall.
-As a fun lil easter egg, try to spot the first time Ilya's inner dialogue switches from Hollander to Shane :)

Chapter 2: Anything you can say, I can say softer

Chapter Notes

Ilya returns to Boston, and immediately hits the club. He takes home a girl one night, eats her out until she is borderline screaming with pleasure, then fucks her until she really is screaming as she comes. Then he does it again the next night, and the next.

Three no-strings-attached hookups down, he feels more like himself again. So Hollander had given him an orgasm that completely changed his understanding of what orgasms could feel like. So what? This hadn't changed anything, and one more attempt without any sabotage from Hollander, and the deal really would be done and they could both move on. He had certainly figured out what all the men he had fucked before now were so hungry for, but he had a nice setup with Hollander that was too good to threaten changing.

And that cautious part of Ilya that had him always leave the bed before their sweat had even had a chance to dry was hissing in alarm. This new dynamic, where Hollander handles Ilya like he is something he needs to be careful with, it could give either of them the wrong idea about what this was between them, what it had to be. Ilya had worked very hard to keep feelings separate from Hollander. He didn't talk about things other than hockey or sex. He left as soon as they were done. He didn't let Hollander see him nervous, didn't give Hollander any reason to be gentle with him, or kiss him like he had last time. That kiss, the kiss that first time in Montreal… it was better not to think about it at all.

So Ilya would hold up his end of the deal, get one more taste of what it was like on the other side of things, then that would be it. Maybe if it was good enough it could be something he does with other men, ones who he wouldn't see longer than a night, but not Hollander.

Frustratingly, when he tries again to get himself off with his fingers on his own, it isn't the same. He just can't get the angle right on his own, and he stays tense throughout in a way that leaves the whole thing unsatisfying. He ends up giving up and just jerking off like normal, with an extra edge of irritation to it.

It makes him wonder if last time was an outlier, really only due to Hollander's skill at giving head, something Ilya had plenty of first hand proof of. Still, the way it had felt had been so different, so all consuming. It pissed Ilya off that it didn't seem achievable on his own. He supposed that was what toys were for, but something inside him balked at the idea of using a toy on himself. No, he would wait till the second attempt and see if it was a fluke.

Strangely, the whole experience leaves him with anticipation for the next try rather than nerves. He catches himself thinking about it often, and counting down the days to the next Metros game. Of course, that wasn't a new development, he had been doing that for years. Really, he had been doing that since a freckled boy first gave him a second handshake five minutes after the first.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

This time they are meeting in a hotel room in Boston. When Hollander steps through the door, nervously glancing down the hallway as he does, his hair is still wet from his post-game shower and his sweater is the one Ilya has seen often before, in a way that makes him think it might be a favorite of Shane’s.

He looks soft and clean, a thought that always made Ilya want to dirty him up and bring out the flaws in all that perfect. Deeper down, it also made him want to do criminal, idiotic things, like wrap his arms around him and press a kiss to his temple, see how warm that sweater was when it wasn't folded neatly far away from the bed. He focuses on the thoughts of making Hollander come instead.

He doesn't leave time for awkward greetings this time, choosing instead to immediately cross the room to Hollander and pull him into a kiss. Shane meets him halfway, like he normally does, and throws himself into the kiss with just as much passion. It had been a month since their last game, and Ilya had been thinking about this the whole time. The way Hollander leans into the kiss and clutches onto him makes Ilya think that Hollander has been too.

Wordlessly, they both stumble back to the bed, not letting go of each other. Once they are there however, they need to break apart to strip, and in Hollander's case, fold his clothes. Away the well-worn sweater goes, safe on the dresser.

As soon as his clothes are taken care of, Hollander falls to his knees in front of where Ilya is sitting on the side of the bed. He leans in, breathes in the scent of Ilya right where it is strongest. Fuck, Ilya wanted so badly to let him suck him off like he so clearly wanted to, but first they needed to end this challenge once and for all first. Then he would let Hollander get his fill.

“Hollander.”

Hollander darts his eyes up to him, an inch away from taking Ilya into his mouth. Fuck, what in the hell had Ilya been about to say again?

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Hollander remembers for him.

“Oh, yeah.” Hollander pulls away, casting one last regretful look down at Ilya's dick as he did so.

Ilya chuckled, “He will wait for you, don't worry. Soon you can suck him for as long as you want.”

See? He gave his dick the nicest things, even if it was an ungrateful bastard last time.

Shane glared up at him, annoyed. Instead of answering, he puts his hands on Ilya's knees to pull himself up into looking down at Ilya, one knee between Ilya's legs and hands pushing Ilya down onto the bed.

Here we go again, Ilya thought. Then he sent a scolding command down to his dick and asshole. Do not fuck this up for us.

Ilya thought Hollander might go right into it, fingers lubed up and rearranging Ilya's understanding of his body again, but instead he finds himself getting kissed into the bed, Hollander biting at his lips like Ilya was his favorite meal and he had been starving for weeks. As it continues it gentles into something less forceful. The jitter of nerves in Ilya quiets, and the tension in his body drops away as they kiss. It's surprisingly unhurried for them, but Ilya finds himself pathetically grateful for it, if still a bit suspicious and thrown off by it.

Shane pulls back after one final kiss to his lip, and says, with some of his own nerves evident, “Hey, I know last time you didn't want to, but could you flip over this time? I think it would make it easier.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow, “Ah, you must remove temptation, yes? Too hard to not suck my dick?”

Some of the tension returns to his body at the thought of himself, face-down and waiting for Hollander to do whatever he wanted to him, but he had thought about it over the past month, and the best way to avoid any more soft glances was to make it so Hollander couldn't even look at him. Also, it would give Ilya the opportunity to hide any reactions he had better.

He slaps lightly at Hollander's side, “Will need to get off me. You can give dick farewell kiss since you will miss it so much.”

“Fuck off,” Hollander says, rolling his eyes, but he gets off Ilya long enough for Ilya to settle onto his stomach, head propped up on his crossed arms. Strangely, the position reminds him of when he lays down for a massage from the Raiders’ sports physical therapist.

It's not so different, he tells himself. Just hands, some discomfort, then feeling good. And Hollander was far prettier than the Raiders’ masseuse.

The position is also good in that when Hollander spreads his cheeks, and the cold air hits his asshole, his face is hidden between his arms as he fights against the discomfort of feeling so exposed.

“You cleaned up again first, right?”

Ilya groans into his arms, “Hollander, you are literally staring at my asshole right now. Yes, is clean.”

Shane huffs, then Ilya feels warm breath against his skin back there. Oh.

There's a pause, like Hollander is gathering his courage. Then Ilya feels the warm, wet brush of a tongue starting on the skin behind his balls, traveling up the cleft of his ass in a broad stroke that crosses over his hole. Ilya is startled by the moan that come out of him, an airy, high thing that shouldn't be coming from him.

“Fuck,” He breathes.

“Yeah?” Shane whispers, then spreads Ilya further and goes back in for more. He licks over top again, traces the rim with his tongue in small circles. Finally, when Ilya is close to gasping at the sensations, he plunges his tongue in.

“Fuck!” Ilya moans, louder this time.

Shane hums against his skin, sounding pleased with himself, before he sets himself to fucking Ilya with his tongue. In and out, with a swipe over top occasionally when Ilya isn't expecting it.

Ilya was really understanding the bottoms in his life now. Fucking hell. He needed to eat Hollander out more than he already did now that he knew just how fucking good it felt. Hollander had certainly earned it too, he was eating Ilya's ass with the same focus and vigor that he sucked his dick. Ilya felt like his thoughts were scattering apart, and there was no longer any room for him to overthink this. All he could do was feel it.

A pressure accompanied Shane's tongue on the next thrust in, and Ilya moaned again as a finger pushed in alongside the warmth of the tongue. It pulls at his rim, stretching it enough that Shane is able to plunge his tongue in further on the next dive in. Ilya gasped into his arms as the finger starts to thrust alongside the licking.

He's surprised to realize the moans he is hearing are from him. They sound pleading, with a few Russian swears mixed in. Nothing like he normally would do in bed with Hollander. Even worse, he’s spilling out desperate words in Russian too.

”You’re so good, always so perfect, I want-”

He bites his arm to try to muffle the words, and his hip rocks against the bed ever so slightly, the small bit of friction adding fuel to the fire growing in him.

He feels Shane's mouth leave him, and swallows down another pathetic noise at the loss, turning it into a groan of frustration instead.

Then he hears, “Hey, stop that,” and there's a sharp tug to his hips, forcing his ass into the air where his dick can't get any friction. His breath catches in his throat. If he felt exposed before, it was nothing compared to now, ass up and head down in the bed. And Hollander was the one to force him into the position, moving Ilya like he wasn't over 200 pounds of muscle. A rush of heat pours through him at the thought, and he scrambles to get onto his elbows to try and get some control back.

Hollander continues, unaware of what he had just done to Ilya with one simple movement. “You're getting friction from the bed, that doesn't fucking count.”

“It would be hand-free though, no?” Ilya says sarcastically, and looks back over his shoulder at Hollander, and swallows at the sight. Hollander is kneeling behind him now, hands still tightly gripping Ilya's hips. He's clearly hard and a distant, small part of Ilya is going mad over the thought of other things he could do in that position. He drops his head down again.

“Not the fucking deal, asshole. You're not proving anything if you come after rubbing off against something.”

“Okie, okie, we do it this way.” Ilya said, in what he hoped was a casual voice and not the one of a man who had been moaning over getting rimmed a moment ago. “Can we go before I get too bored to come?”

Hollander doesn’t say anything, but Ilya can practically hear his scowl, before he feels a new pressure against his rim as Hollander shoves two fingers in and thrusts them deep inside, stretching Ilya past where Hollander had penetrated before. The thrust strikes Ilya's prostate, and Ilya shouts out a, “Fuck!” and drops his head down between his arms as he groans loudly.

“This too boring for you?” Shane asks smugly, and rubs his fingers harder into Ilya's prostate.

Ilya can't even respond, too busy at biting his lip to keep a whining noise trapped in his throat. He's not fully successful, as another loud moan rolls out of him.

Shane's other hand strokes down his leg, “Rozanov, people are going to hear.” Then the hand moves to his lips, and two fingers push gently at his lips.

Ilya's grateful for the opportunity to muffle his noises, and sucks them into his mouth. They rest on his tongue, moving ever so slightly in time with the movements of Shane’s hands.

Behind him, he hears Shane let out a soft, “Fuck, Roz,” before another thrust in with his fingers, gentler this time but still aimed directly at his prostate.

Time stretches and blurs then, syrupy sweet and hazy as Shane thrusts his fingers in and out. Ilya realizes belatedly that at some point he had started twitching his hips back into the thrusts. Ilya's face burns. He knew he was a slut, proud of it frankly, but he had never felt more like it then, moaning around Shane's fingers in his mouth and still needing more.

He stops sucking, and thankfully, Shane understands he needs to speak and withdraws his fingers. He catches his breath for a moment, panting through the sensations coursing through him, then tries to be as authoritative as he normally is with Hollander as he says, “More.”

A moment of pause, then a groan of, “Fuck.” comes from behind him. A moment later, Ilya has three fingers inside him, more than he's ever had before. His hips twitch, his whole body twitches really. Then he feels Hollander's hand move back to his ass and pull him wide open.

He hears a heartfelt, “Holy shit, Rozanov.” It sounds soft and awed, and there's a silence after as Shane stares at where Ilya is stretched around his fingers. Then he feels a kiss placed softly in the dip of his lower back, lingering there for a long moment as the fingers keep rubbing inside him. The kiss is gentle, it’s kind, and it hurts as much as it soothes.

Absurdly, this is what makes Ilya truly feel on the edge. He feels like he is teetering there, ready at any moment to go over, but unable to get that last inch. He wants a hand on his cock right now, or the friction of the sheets. Anything to just let him out of this sweet torture. He wants more, but nothing he is allowed to have.

With a start, he realizes that his eyes feel hot, and his vision is blurred. No. No, no, no.

Fuck the competition. He would take the gloating. He would lie, deflect, whatever he needed to do. He was not going to cry in front of Hollander.

Ilya reaches down, and strokes his cock.

Behind him he hears, “Wait-”

There’s no time for Hollander to stop him. It only takes three quick brushes of his hand over himself before Ilya is coming. The sensation flashes through him, and leaves him feeling boneless as he slumps down to the bed, Hollander's fingers coming free with a wet noise as he does so.

There's a stunned silence then, “What the hell, Rozanov!”

Ilya rolls over to his back, and sees Hollander staring down at him, surprised and angry.

Thankfully, his eyes feel dry as he forces a casual shrug and says, “Ah, was taking too long. Maybe you need to practice with fingers on yourself more? I told you making someone come hands-free is not so easy.”

“Fuck no, this is not on me!” Hollander said. “You fucking chickened out!”

Ilya propped himself up on his elbows so he could scowl at Hollander, “No, I did not do this. Was I supposed to wait all day to get off?”

“I thought it was supposed to be so easy for you?”

“And I thought you were supposed to be so good at making me come without touching my dick?”

They both glared at each other for a moment, before Ilya looks down at Hollander’s still hard cock and decided there was another way he could get Hollander to drop the topic.

He moves up the bed to Hollander and grabs at his shoulder, flipping him over to his stomach. He allows Ilya to do it with a grunt, and an annoyed, “Rozanov, don’t fucking try to-”

Ilya grabs his hips and pulls Hollander up onto his knees, ass up, face down. Then he says, “Let me show you how to do this good,” and dives in face first.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Ilya leaves Hollander so exhausted after making him come three times, once untouched on his tongue and the other two on his dick, that the man doesn’t have any words for him when Ilya hurriedly dresses after his shower and leaves. Still, he gets a text shortly after he gets back to his apartment.

Text from Jane:
This isn’t over.

Ilya feels his heart thud in his chest, half dread and half anticipation.

Chapter End Notes

-This chapter was way easier to write then the first, and I've had devious plans for future chapters so as long as defending my stupid thesis doesn't get in the way, there should be more soon.
-There is a method to Ilya's swapping between Shane and Hollander in his internal monologue. Let me know if you figure it out. :)