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, David Hollander & Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander & Yuna Hollander, David Hollander & Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike

Characters:

Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander, David Hollander, Yuna Hollander, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Victor St. Simon, Hayden Pike, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Mpreg | Male Pregnancy, carrier shane hollander, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Autistic Shane Hollander, Bottom Shane Hollander, Top Ilya Rozanov, Protective Ilya Rozanov, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, BAMF Shane Hollander, Sub Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Hurt Shane Hollander, Found Family, Team as Family, Babies, Alternate Universe, Medical Inaccuracies, Breeding Kink, Supernatural Bonds, Feral Behavior, Maternal Instinct, Shane Hollander's Stretch Marks, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander's Stretch Marks, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Size Kink, Anal Plug, Come Marking, Come as Lube, Belly Bulge, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happily Ever After

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Heated Rivalry AU Version 2

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-13 Updated: 2026-08-03 Words: 108,702 Chapters: 11/?

Carry My Heart

Summary

Shane woke up alone, in pain and confused. He remembered the hit; Marlow had sent him down to the ice. He remembered Ilya visiting before anyone else. He doesn't understand what is wrong; why are more tests being ordered? The C test. The test for being a rare Male Carrier.

He hadn't thought about Carriers since he was in school. Why would he? His mother had done the test when he was a child. It had been negative. So why was he hurting in places he shouldn't? Why was a nice nurse telling him they needed to take him somewhere else for some specialised testing?

When Shane Hollander took a nasty hit on the ice against Boston, he was woken up to a very serious, very shocking discovery. To something he hadn't believed was possible. He now has to deal with the fallout; decisions have to be made, as well as life-altering choices. But first he has to work out how to tell his years-long situationship - who he is completely and totally in love with - that he managed to get him pregnant, when neither of them was aware it was possible. Shane is terrified, confused and furious all at the same time. All he wants is Ilya, but is Ilya still going to want him now?

Chapter 1: The C Test

Chapter Notes

This story is now dedicated and in honor of the beautiful soul azraelriego.

                                                                                                   

 

The door clicked softly shut behind the doctor.

Shane just stared. He felt numb. 

Cold. Raw. He hadn’t even really taken in half of what the doctor had just said.

Something about incorrect markers in his blood and the need for further tests: he had just been informed that he now needed to stay longer, depending on the results. 

His brain was still fuzzy. The lower level of painkillers they had dropped him down to after Ilya had left was only just enough to stop his head from swimming in the clouds.

His parents wouldn’t be here for another few days since they were still trying to get a flight back from Mexico. Hayden had brought his bag and clothes from the rink, but he wasn’t allowed to look at any screens yet. His friend hadn’t been allowed to stay. 

The doctors were adamant that it was family only until his results came back. Which Shane thought was strange, but hadn’t been aware enough at the time to question how Ilya had been allowed in.  

Shane yawned.

He was so tired all the time.

Since their whole team had picked up a very nasty case of Gastroenteritis from what they had discovered afterwards had been contaminated fish. The whole lot of them had eaten it. 

Shane had taken longer than the rest to recover, although a couple of the others had also suffered for a few days more than the rest. As it was, everyone had taken nearly 10 days to recover. They had lost both games during that week from hell. 

Add it all to the fact that Shane himself had been listless and horrendously guilty for running out on Ilya that day.

He honestly hadn’t been sure what he had been thinking; getting involved with Rose had been an utter disaster. Not because of Rose. No. 

Rose was sweet. Understanding, even if he had been utterly pathetic anytime he had remotely been required to touch her. It had felt so wrong; even his skin had prickled painfully whenever Shane let their bare flesh touch.

Honestly. How the hell had he ever convinced himself he was straight?

He hadn’t even been able to touch her. Sexually. Not without closing his eyes and remembering in vivid detail his past times with Ilya, which had been both totally embarrassing and painful for both of them. The guilt over that, too, had made him physically sick to his stomach for the next day or so afterwards. 

She had been so kind to him, and he hadn’t been honest. Not really. He had known. 

Of course, he had, but he had gone ahead anyway. He had tried to be normal. Tried to make it work, even knowing it wouldn’t. He should never have let it go on after the first attempt.

He wanted Ilya to come back.

Shane closed his eyes. 

His head hurt. 

They had lowered the dose. Or at least he was pretty sure that’s what the doctor had said. He really hadn’t taken in most of what the man had been saying. His chest hurt, and his stomach was sore. Shane didn’t really remember the hit, but he must have hit the boards hard for his hips and stomach to be so sore, as well as his head.

He shifted to try to get comfortable. The bed felt wrong; the fabrics were scratchy and irritating. It didn’t smell right. Shane wished he had asked Ilya for his hoodie. He was cold, and the soft, huge hoodie would have smelled like a mix of Ilya’s cologne and the light hint of cigarettes that Ilya denied he still smoked when he was stressed. Shane knew he had been stressed. Could see it in the tightness around those dark blue eyes. Even with his vision blurred and his head swimming, he could see it.

The beeping of the machines was annoying. He burrowed his head under the limp, useless pillow and drifted off into a half-dozed state. Exhaustion dragged him under as the pain increased with the lowered dose.

 

When he next woke up. The pain was a lot more than it had been. He still wasn’t sure why the doctor had done it, but he was half grateful because although he hurt, his head was much clearer. Strong painkillers had always made him a bit loopy, and he hated it. Hated the loss of control. Hated the things he would say and not be able to keep his thoughts to himself.

He hadn’t been awake long when a nurse appeared; she was carrying a bottle of water and a paper cup of pills. Shane watched her. Squinting his eyes slightly against the pain in his head.

She smiled at him. Overly friendly and not very appealing.

“Ah. Good. You are awake, Mr Hollander.”

Shane just looked at her. Not bothering to try to speak, his mouth was too dry, and all he wanted was the bottle of cold water in her hand, but he didn’t trust his voice to try and ask.

“Here you go. Drink slowly at first. Then you need to take these, please.”

He took the bottle and sipped slowly, measured little amounts until his throat felt less like sandpaper and more like a human voice would come out, not a croak, if he tried to speak. He still had to clear his throat a couple of times, but was then successful.

“Sorry, but what are the pills?”

The nurse looked at him, confused. Then looked back down at the clipboard the cup was balanced on.

“Oh. I’m sorry. The doctor should have told you earlier. It says here he did. They are an extra-strong vitamin. You are deficient in several areas according to your blood work. These will help.”

Deficient.

He shouldn’t be deficient. His diet was very carefully managed to make sure he got everything he needed. The only thing he could think of was that damn virus they had all had. Shane supposed the fact that he hadn’t been able to keep anything down for nearly 3 and a half weeks would probably leave him a bit under what he should be.

“I had a really bad stomach bug a few weeks ago. The whole team did. It was the fish.”

She was nodding along, already looking at her watch.

“That will do it then. Take these, please. Drink all the water. Food will be brought in later.”

Shane just did as he was told. He was too exhausted and sore to argue.

His head hurt, and the lights were too bright. The sooner she left, the sooner he could close his eyes again.

 

He was woken a few hours later by a sharp, pulling type of pain across his hips and back. Strong enough that even someone like him, with a high pain threshold and used to taking hits, cried out and tried to double over. Which, of course, hurt the other places. Shane panted through the pain and tried to wrap his good arm around his abdomen.

What the fucking hell was going on? He had hit his collarbone, and his head hadn’t, had he? Not his stomach or back.

He could hear the monitors starting to come to life, the loud, obnoxious beeping becoming quickly overwhelming.

Suddenly, the door to his room was flung open, and two different doctors and a new nurse came running in. The nurse went straight to read the machines, and the doctors began to try to get Shane to lie back down.

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want them touching him. They were not who he wanted. Who he felt, somewhere deep inside, he needed right now.

Tears of pain, frustration and anger welled up in his eyes, and he drew back as far as he could and made a weird, low hiss in the back of his throat.

Both doctors stopped dead. The taller one backed up. He raised both of his hands up in an ‘easy’ gesture and motioned for the other one to do the same.

“Mr Hollander. Calm down. We need to examine you. Can we touch you, please?”

He sounded like he was talking to a frightened animal. Or a child. Shane was offended. He was not stupid; he was calm. He just didn’t want them touching his stomach area for some reason. He couldn’t explain it.

Shane looked from one to the other. The pain was getting worse, but he instinctively tried to curl up protectively, trying to find somewhere defendable. He was too exposed here. In some faraway part of Shane’s concussed brain, he knew this wasn’t normal, knew he was acting strange, but he couldn’t control it.

He could hear the doctors whispering frantically to each other; he wasn’t sure how they thought that he couldn't hear them. They weren’t exactly being quiet. He could clearly hear every hushed whisper.

“He’s definitely acting within the parameters.”

“We cannot confirm anything without the results to run the C test. Legally, we have to. There is nothing on his paperwork. He must not have been tested as a child.”

Shane frowned. What test were they talking about? He had taken all the tests he was asked to as a kid. What parameters was he hitting? He was in pain. He was scared, and he didn’t understand what was going on. All he knew was that these men weren’t touching him. He wanted Ilya.

Where was Ilya?

They all went quiet. Shane was grateful, even if he couldn’t work out why. There was a weird noise, like a low, desperate keening whine. It was a heartbreaking sound. Pitiful. Pained.

Then he realised.

He was the one making it. The whine was rumbling out of his chest. So low-pitched it was almost subvocal. As soon as he realised, he cut the sound off. Biting into his lip hard enough to make it bleed in the effort to stay silent.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the nurse. A woman, different from the one before. Older. Gentle concern in her eyes. She approached slowly. Letting him see she had nothing in her hands and was making no sudden movements.

“Mr Hollander. Shane. May I call you Shane? I am sorry. I know this must be terrifying, but we really need you to lie down so we can see what is wrong. Would it be okay if I took a look instead?”

Her voice was sweet. It reminded him a bit of his grandma before she had passed away. Ever so slowly, he lay down. Staying half turned on his side, so his stomach was protected by his back from the two doctors near the door.

“Okay.”

She gave him a lovely smile and came closer.

“Thank you. I’m Gloria, by the way. You remind me of my grandson. He reacts badly to painkillers, too. He is a rugby player. As you will know, injuries happen pretty often in heavy contact sports like yours.”

The quiet chatter washed over him. He forced himself to stay still as Gloria reached out and carefully touched his abdomen. She started high, under his ribs and worked her way down. When she got to the tender patch of skin, tucked under his belly button and between his hips, he had to choke down another nasty hiss.

Gloria paused just before she touched and looked up at him.

“I will be quick, but I need to check something. Okay. Tell me if you need me to stop at any point.”

Shane nodded and moved his arm from where it had been covering his stomach. Gloria touched the taut skin with the tips of two fingers and slowly pressed right in the middle, just above his groin area. It hurt. Shane winced and recoiled backwards. Gloria stepped back and looked at the doctors.

“Well, I think we need to be chasing that test result. Unless you are going to make the call now. Mr Hollander needs to be scanned urgently.”

The older of the two scowled at her and drew himself up. Gloria didn’t let him open his mouth. Shane decided he liked her.

“Look. You or any other male doctor is not going to get near him now. So, either go chase the results or let me move him to my ward.”

The doctor grumbled but gave in.

“Move him then. Better make it a private wing, though. With his status still unconfirmed,”

 

The two left. Shane relaxed slightly as only Gloria was left in the room with him. Only until the door opened again, but this time two more women came in. One was as tall and broad as he was. She grinned at Gloria.

“Wow, Ma’am, still sending those pompous asses running, then.”

Gloria rolled her eyes and turned back to Shane.

“Shane. These are my two best students. This is Xena, and this is Bridget.”

The much smaller one in nurse’s scrubs waved at him, while the other one gave him a cheeky salute and jokingly bowed to Gloria.

“Are we staging a kidnapping again, oh mistress?”

Gloria nodded and motioned for Bridget to go to the head of Shane’s bed as she clicked off the brakes on the wheels. Xena already unhooked the machines and opened the door, taking Shane’s bag with her.

“Yes. We are. Then, Xena, you go chase Mr Hollander’s results while we go straight to the scan. We can’t wait too long.”

Shane was just going along with everything now. The sharpness of the pain had ebbed away, leaving him exhausted and aching. At least the three women weren’t making him feel weird like before. He could only think it was a strange side effect of the medication and the concussion. After all, there were loads of reports of people seeing and hearing crazy things when they were concussed. Hayden had last time sworn black was white, that he could understand the neighbour’s cat when he had last had a concussion. It had amused Jackie to no end.

He was moved into a much nicer room. Far away from the main areas of the hospital. Much quieter. He watched as the smaller nurse put his bag away and plugged his phone in on the side table. It was dead, and he hadn’t been able to move to put it on to charge. She then hurried out as Gloria came back in with a tablet in her hand and a frown on her face.

“What the heck were they playing at? Your markers are all there; they should have informed us immediately and have you moved here.”

She looked up at him and then sighed.

“Right, Shane. We need to do an urgent scan. There are things in your results that should have been explained to you and haven’t been. Most doctors who don’t specialise in my area just don’t have the knowledge to diagnose correctly. So, let's do the quick version. Get this scan and tests done now. Then I will bring you some food, something light, and we will go through it all.”

Shane nodded. Still pretty overwhelmed, but honestly barely keeping his eyes open anymore. At least the lights were much lower in here; nothing was making his headache worse.

The tall woman wheeled in a portable machine just as Gloria finished speaking. Shane watched as the other one came back and the two of them quickly set the machine running. Gloria snapped on some fresh gloves and picked up a bottle of gel.

“I need to spread this on your stomach, from under your ribs to right above your groin. I’ll warm it first, but it will feel a little funny. Just bear with it, please.”

Shane tried not to tense as Gloria started to spread the clear gel onto his skin. At least he didn’t have chest hair. That would have felt horrible. Then she followed it with the instrument in her other hand and watched the screen. Her face didn’t change, but Shane clocked when she found whatever she was looking for, right at that tender patch of skin below his belly button. She didn’t say anything. Just carefully washed the gel off him and packed the machine away.

“Right, so we officially have to do the test, but I don’t need it.”

Shane looked at her.

“Could you please explain what is going on? Those other doctors were just going on and on about further tests and mistakes in blood work, but you obviously think there is something else.”

Gloria waited until the taller nurse, Bridget, had taken the machine away, and Xena brought a tray of food in and two mugs of steaming hot tea. They helped sit him up and made sure he could easily reach the food, which was easy little finger things he could eat one-handed. Not really diet-approved, but he was too hungry to care right now.

“Eat, please. You are underweight.”

Shane did as he was told. The food was bland but acceptable. It helped ease the worst of the pain, too.

“Can you explain now, please?”

Gloria walked over and pulled the blinds down on the door, dimmed the lights so they were as low as they could go and still see. Carefully, she picked up her tea and pulled up a chair to his bedside. Then she started.

“Do you remember back in school? At 16. All males have the option of having the C test, or otherwise called the Carrier gene test.”

Shane nodded. He hadn’t bothered. His mother had done it when he was a child, and it had been negative. He hadn’t seen the point when he had been playing an important scouting game that day.

“Yes. I didn’t. I was tested as a child.”

Gloria frowned.

“You were tested as a child?”

Shane ate the last little sandwich and then replied. Not liking eating in bed, but having little choice about it, and the food was helping a bit.

“Yes. My mother did. It was negative, so I never really thought about it again. Why?”

If Shane was not concussed, still very much coming down off painkillers and very much a mess, he might have put the pieces together sooner. However, he was all those things and extremely tired. So, he didn’t.

“Shane. You should have been registered. Your Carrier test was not negative at all. In fact, I would suspect you are one of the strongest Carriers I have ever treated. Otherwise, any other Carrier would have miscarried just now. What with the trauma, injury and separation.”

Shane blinked. Surely his hearing was playing up. Or this was all some sort of concussion-induced fever dream. Right.

Gloria touched his arm. He turned back to look at her.

“Shane. Honey. You understand you have been moved to the Carrier Ward, right? That I am an MCE Doctor, not a nurse, and you are currently pregnant.”

Shane shook his head. Or at least tried. It hurt. Everything was going black around the edges. He was not a Carrier. He couldn’t be. The NHL didn’t allow Carriers to play. Well, not officially. They weren’t allowed to make it an actual rule, but everyone knew if you had that C on your paperwork at 16, you were never drafted. No matter how good you were. It was rare anyway. That’s what Shane had thought.

His mom had tested him. She had told him he wasn’t. Had told him the test was negative. He had never thought about it again. Not once.

Shit.

Fucking shit.

Ilya.

If Gloria was right, and there was no way she was. But if she was. Then the only possible person who could have gotten him pregnant was Ilya.

But it couldn’t be true. His mother wouldn’t lie to him. She had tested him. Maybe this was all a mix-up. He looked at Gloria. Eyes wild, and breathing heavier than he probably should be.

“But I tested negative. I can’t be.”

She looked sympathetically down at him.

“Your parents aren’t the first to fake a negative result, and they will not be the last. Not until things are made better for Carriers. However, you will never have tested negative. You are born with this ability. It doesn’t develop. No matter when you are tested, it will have been presented as positive.”

Shane looked away. Then he squared his one good shoulder and looked at Gloria. He couldn’t use his phone. So, he would use the readily available resource in front of him. After all, who better to ask than a doctor who specialised in Carriers?

“Could you please explain it all to me, from the start?”

Gloria nodded and crossed her legs to get comfortable.

“Of course, do you want just the medical or the full information we currently have on Carriers?”

Shane glanced over at his phone and regretted that he couldn’t write all this down. Then an idea occurred to him.

“Everything, please. Can you record just our voices for this, please? I can’t write it all down at the moment.”

She collected his phone. Allowed him to unlock it and open the app for voice recording before putting it back on charge; it was nearly dead. There were a massive number of messages, but he would deal with them later. Right now, he wanted answers. Nothing else.

“So, Carriers. When someone is referred to as a Carrier, it means they are sexually attracted only to men and biologically male in presentation, but they have a very rare genetic quirk. It means they have the means of getting pregnant. However, not all Carriers are the same. There is a scale. It’s a scale of how high the gene count is. Then there is the Compatibility Scale. Now, what those effects are, a few things.”

Here she paused to make sure he was following. Which he was. With rapt attention.

“First, it is how possible it is to carry to full term. Those low on this scale, say 1 to 3, are high risk. It is possible, but it will take more tries, and miscarriage is a very high risk. 4 to 8 are reasonably safe, depending on where they fall. And the most common area to score in.”

A knock at the door. Gloria turned as Xena popped her head in.

“Results are back. All markers are Gene Positive.”

Gloria nodded and waved her away. She turned back to Shane.

“Then there are the rare gems. The diamonds everyone wants. The Carriers that score 8 or above. Now there have only been a handful of these in the last 25 years or so. Most are married into royalty. In different countries. The reason those scoring this high are special is that they are stronger. Physically, a lot stronger than average. They can not only sustain the pregnancy, but they aren’t in danger the way lower-scoring Carriers or even women are.”

Shane could already see where this was leading.

“Now we get into the Compatibility Scale. Since Carriers are meant to be registered and listed on both scales, this is where the other part of the second scale comes in. Most Carriers request a biological compatibility test when they are ready to start trying for a baby. Basically, the higher the compatibility between the Carrier and the chosen Sire, the easier time the Carrier has during the pregnancy and the healthier the resulting baby is. The length of gestation can also be affected. The higher the compatibility score, the shorter the pregnancy. Carriers tend to be around 7 to 8 months depending on their Scale level, but the few recorded level 8 or above have given birth as early as 6 months to a perfectly healthy baby.”

Gloria reached over and clicked a few buttons on the tablet. She held it up and zoomed in on a scale graph.

“In this sort of situation. We legally have to scale test you. This is also done because in the very rare cases that both a Carrier is scored at 8 or above, and then their Compatibility score is over 90%, we have other factors to consider. Those kinds of high markers can trigger greater changes in the Carrier. As I said before, Carriers who score above 8 are much stronger, sturdier and healthier than average women or even lower-scoring Carriers, but the trade-off for that increase is their higher production of the chemical that gives them the instincts. Most male Carriers will only experience a slight increase in instincts, while others get more. However, every 8 plus Carrier has been recorded to create a chemical bond between them and their chosen Sire. When pregnant, the Carrier will experience higher fluctuations in their instincts, which can lead to more feral-like traits. Again, these are very much individual, and we need your results to see if it is even going to affect you much. Then we need a compatibility test on you and the Sire. As the result matters in your continued care.”

Here she paused.

“That is, of course, if you know who the Sire is. I guess since you didn’t know you were a Carrier, you didn’t keep records like they usually do.”

Shane blushed. He could feel it. Fuck. He knew exactly who the father was and if his brain was working correctly again. He could even pinpoint the exact damn fucking date.

The day he had run out, but also the day he stayed, Ilya had made him that damn fucking tuna melt. They had been careless. Drunk on each other’s presence. On being able to take their time for once. Shane had been desperate. Needy and clingy. Ilya himself had been no better. The Russian had taken him multiple times, and there had been at least once when neither of them had wanted to stop to go and get another condom. It had been him. He had told Ilya it was okay. If Ilya was clean, then they could go without.

It was so worth it. At the time. Shane had wanted to never use them again. It had felt so much more intimate and hotter without. They had both preferred the feeling of Ilya coming inside him rather than the condom.

Gloria obviously had caught the blush and the look on his face because she patted his hand softly.

“You do know who the Sire is, then.”

It wasn’t a question this time.

Shane couldn’t bring himself to speak. He couldn’t say Ilya’s name. This was quite possibly going to end his career. He didn’t think it was fair to throw Ilya on the fire too. There was also Russia. Shane was not as ignorant as he had been back at the Olympics. After that, he had dived into research about the political and legal state of Russia. It was pretty horrific. It also explained a lot of Ilya’s behaviour back then. He had to have been terrified, and not just for himself but for Shane, too. Since Ilya did at least like women as well so could blend in better. As Shane had discovered, he couldn’t. Anyone looking at him and Ilya for any length of time off the ice could pick up on it; there was an electricity, a tether binding them together.

Instead, he asked a different question. Pretending to ignore that last one. He would deal with it later.

“How do you test for the scales?”

Gloria gave him a pointed look but let him skip over that for now. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere at the moment.

“There is a special test for it. They take blood and a sperm sample. Then both are combined and run through a specialised testing machine. Then you are given a score. The compatibility test is a bit different. You are put through a series of physical sensor tests as well as the same blood and sperm sample, but it's mixed together. The results are then run through the computer, and your score is calculated.”

Shane thought about it. He was just about able to follow what Gloria was saying, but he was glad he had thought to record it for later. After he wasn’t concussed and was still coming down from the high the painkillers caused. He did want to do both tests, though. He definitely wanted to know where he was on the Carrier scale. The anger at his mother hadn’t gone. In fact, it was getting darker and heavier the more he discovered.

Yes, he wasn’t sure about being pregnant. But he hadn’t known it was a possibility. Ilya had been so good with the kids at the all-stars. With any children Shane had seen him with. He strongly suspected Ilya wanted a family. A real family. The thing was. So did Shane. He had watched on the sideline for years, Hayden and his family. Then Arthur. Little Arthur. Who was like Shane. Who reached for Shane before his own parents half the time. He wanted that. And apparently the only person he wanted it with was a 6’4, blond Russian. As it turned out, he had picked the love of his life at 17 years old, and no one else could hold a candle to the asshole.

“So, I need to tell him then. I guess.”

Gloria patted his hand again and stood up to check his readings.

“Well, we will get your Carrier Scale reading taken in the morning and then go from there. Legally, until you are registered, you don’t have to tell him, but unfortunately, the register is publicly accessible. I will let you get some rest now. One of us will check in later.”

Shane managed a small smile.

“Thank you.”

She smiled back at him and left, dimming the lights almost completely and shutting the door softly behind her.

 

Shane lay back and closed his eyes.

He was scared. He was furious. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake his mother. What had she been thinking? Was this why she had pushed so much about Rose? At the time, he had thought it was odd, just how invested she had been in him getting back together with her. Was this why she had never just asked outright if he was gay? After all, according to Ilya, he didn’t hide it well. Surely if she had known or even suspected, then she could have said something. If she was okay with it.

His dad was like him. Wouldn’t see attraction or someone flirting with him unless they hit you over the head with it. Or you know. Gave you orders on a grimy hotel gym floor at stupid o’clock in the morning. Orders that you follow, without thinking. Shane would have let Ilya take him that night. Oh, he hadn’t known it back then, but after a few years, looking back, he would easily let Ilya fuck him. Shane was more self-aware now. If Ilya had pushed. He would have folded. Like a cheap fucking suit. Still did. Anytime Ilya even looked at him.

Fuck.

Shane felt the tears slip out of the corner of his eyes. He wanted Ilya. He wanted to be held. Shane only ever admitted that to Ilya. Only ever really let Ilya hold him like that. 

He finally dropped into a restless sleep. He didn’t hear the door or Gloria as she came back in a few hours later, but he did groggily answer her concussion protocol questions before falling back asleep.

The whole night, he barely remembered them coming in to ask the standard questions, but he knew they did. By the morning, he was exhausted but felt clearer. The painkillers had eased out of his system, and some of the concussion was finally fading with sleep.

Gloria knocked and came in. She was carrying a tray of breakfast.

“Good morning, Shane. Feeling any better?”

Shane wiggled to sit up a bit straighter, then winced at the pain in his collarbone. Gloria tutted at him and pressed the button to raise the bed for him.

“A bit, thanks. My head is clearer.”

She nodded and put the tray down.

“Yes, that’s a good sign. You passed all the concussion checks last night. Hopefully, you will be clear in a day or so. Now eat. Then we can get you cleaned up.”

Shane looked at the food. A plain congee-type mix and fruit. Not a bad choice. It would do for now. He ate quickly. It wasn’t a lot, and he wanted so badly to get clean. He hated feeling dirty and hadn’t showered since before the game.

This time, Xena came back in with Gloria. Between them, they got Shane up and into the adjoining bathroom, where he was efficiently but carefully scrubbed clean. Gloria rewrapped his arm, producing a much better brace than the flimsy bandage he had been given before. It strapped around his chest and meant he had more movement in his arm, which made him feel less restricted.

He felt so much better just being clean. The room he had been brought into actually had a proper bed in it. Now Shane was more awake and aware; he could tell this wasn’t an average hospital room. He looked up to find that Gloria had picked up his bag and had put it on the end of the bed so he could reach it without having to bend down.

“Thank you.”

She smiled at him and left the room so he could get changed in privacy. With the new brace, he could just about lift his arm enough to wiggle through the larger T-shirt at the very bottom of his bag. It was a couple of sizes too big. He never wore it. Just kept it hidden, under all his usual clothes, out of sight. It was one of Ilya’s plain black T-shirts that Ilya had left in his room once. The fabric was expensive, with some Russian lettering in the corner. Not easily visible, as it was embossed black on black, but there if you knew where to look.

Shane sat on the bed to pull up his briefs and sweatpants. It wasn’t perfect, but he managed. It was like donning armour. He felt more like himself now that he had actual clothes on, not a flimsy hospital gown, less exposed. He had just finished reorganising his bag when Gloria came back. Two clear plastic bags with sample vials in them. One with a red lid and the other with a blue one.

She held up the red one first.

“Shall we get started?”

He nodded and presented his arm. It was not the first time he had been wrangled into blood tests, and it wouldn’t be the last. The NHL liked to do random drug tests on all teams throughout the season.

Gloria expertly took a full vial of blood and then stuck a plaster over the puncture. Shane watched her label it, then seal it into a bag. Next, she pulled out the other, differently shaped vial and handed it to him.

“Now. The sperm sample. I think the painkillers are low enough now; you should manage it. Then I can go run the tests.”

Shane blushed. This wasn’t ideal, but he did want to know. He needed to know. This had been kept from him his whole life. This was information that mattered. He took the vial and looked at it. Gloria gave him a gentle look.

“I will come back in a bit. Take your time.”

 

He wrapped the small vial in his hand and nodded in thanks as she quietly left. The bathroom was not the most romantic of settings, but Shane tried; he really did, but it was not happening.

Not until he closed his eyes. It didn’t take much to bring up the memory. The hotel room in Tampa Bay. Of Ilya, massive arms that had him pinned to the bed. One hand was big enough to hold both of his wrists together above his head. Of how sensitive his nipples had been when Ilya had sucked them into his mouth, nipping and licking until they were swollen and red. Of how Ilya had opened him up, stretched his body until he was writhing, begging for Ilya’s cock. As the memory played out behind his closed eyelids, Shane hadn’t even realised he was touching himself. He was following the memory with his own hands. It was only when he was right at the edge of coming that he remembered the damn vial. With a trembling, shaking hand, he managed to pick up the little plastic cup and get most of the spurts of come into it as he crested over into his orgasm.

He lay there. Panting on the bathroom floor for a few moments. Colour and heat bloomed in his cheeks. It wasn’t like it was the first time he had come to just the thought or image of Ilya, but somehow, this felt a little bit more embarrassing. He was sprawled in the bathroom of his fucking hospital room.

Fucking Hell. He was a mess.

This was not how Shane Hollander operated. He had plans. He was meticulous. Nothing happened without Shane having a plan, with at least two backups and a contingency plan just in case.

Shane gave himself a metaphorical shake. He had to get himself together. There were decisions to be made. He hauled himself to his feet, wincing slightly at the sharp pull in his shoulder and collarbone, but he made it. Carefully, he washed his hands, wiped himself down and put his pants back in place. Then he gathered the vial, wiped the outside of it just in case and sealed it into the clear plastic bag Gloria had left.

He wished he could look at his phone. Or even write things down. He had so many questions. There was so much he didn’t know. All his life, research has been his go-to thing. It helped to stop his mind spiralling. If he could find all the information, collate it and organise it on paper, then his brain would mirror the system.

Slowly, he sank back down onto the bed.

There was nothing he could do until Gloria had run the test. Then he would need to see if she would clear him for whatever the first part of the Compatibility testing was. She had mentioned physical tests; he might have to wait until he healed, but how long did he really have? Gloria hadn’t put a date on how far along he was, but Shane knew. Of course he did. That made him just shy of 12 weeks. But again. He didn’t know what that meant as a Carrier. He needed information.

Was termination even possible? Did he want that? Honestly, not really.

Shane gently touched his lower stomach. Where it had hurt earlier, the slightly softer patch of skin he had always hated. Even with his rigorous workout routines, ruthlessly tight diet plan and being a professional athlete, he hadn’t been able to get that lower part of his abs flat. There had always been a very subtle curve and softness to it, as well as his flared hips and huge, plush thighs. 

He had done an advert for GAP where he was on his back, just in white underwear. 

When he had seen the images, even though they hadn’t used them in the end, the curve of his hips, thighs and ass looked massive in those photos. No matter how much muscle he packed on, he had never managed to look like Ilya. His lines were softer, his shape more curved. Even though he was also the fittest member of his team and was stronger than most of the other men in the NHL.

Now he guessed this was why.

The thing was, it had never bothered Ilya. In fact, the Russian couldn’t get enough of his body, so Shane had long ago stopped caring so much. He was still voted the number one hottest man in the NHL, his brand deals kept wanting pictures of him, and adverts were always requesting him to model. Over the years, Shane had stopped noticing. The only person’s opinion he had cared about was Ilya, and he could go to some of their meet-ups with fucking him 2 or 3 times in a row. However many they could fit in before one of them had to leave, telling him that Ilya wanted him, seemingly, no matter what.

It still didn’t give him any answers, though. He would have to wait. Get the test results, and then he could…could what exactly? No matter what, he had to tell Ilya. He might be out for the season now, but this would change everything. Realistically, he could go to his cottage; he could wait out the remainder of his pregnancy there, but according to what Gloria had said earlier, he needed to know their Compatibility Score because it would affect the length of said pregnancy, if he kept it. For that, he needed to first tell Ilya and then get him to come here. Somehow.

Shane’s head hurt.

Gloria came back in. She silently took the bag away and then left him to eat in peace. He was grateful. It had been a lot, too much really, and he was still exhausted. As soon as he had eaten, he lay back down and was dragged back under into a fitful sleep.

 

He was violently woken by a horrific pain across his hips. Before Shane could stop it, he screamed. The instinctual curling motion his body had done against the white-hot agony coursing through him had caused him to wrench his collarbone.

Shane clenched his teeth to bite back down on another scream as the door was opened and Xena came flying in. She took one look at him and scrambled to slam her hand down on the emergency button by his bed.

“Mr Hollander. Shane! Listen to me. I know it hurts, but you are out of time. We need to get the Sire here now. The distance is putting too much strain on your body.”

He couldn’t move, could barely open his mouth, but he managed to croak out one word as the door opened again and Gloria came rushing in.

“Phone… Lily…”

He cried out again, still trying to double over against the pain in his midsection. Gloria grabbed his phone and brought it over to his side.

“8…1…2…4…”

He just about panted out the code, and Gloria quickly handed the now unlocked phone over to Xena. If Shane had been in his right mind, he would have been freaking out right about now, but he wasn’t. Nothing he had experienced before had ever felt like this; it was like his muscles were trying to tear apart. Like he was being cut open from the inside.

Hands were gently petting his sweat-soaked hair. He could hear Gloria talking frantically as the call wasn’t answered, but he was running out of strength. Tears tracked down his face, blurring his vision and making it harder to catch his breath. Was he losing the baby? Losing his baby. He let out a low, pained whine of distress and tried to wrap his good arm around his stomach.

Panic raced through him. He tried to curl tighter, pushing against the hands holding him still. He didn’t want to lose this baby. This was Ilya’s baby, his baby. Although right up until this point, he hadn’t known. Hadn’t been completely sure, not until the fear was real. Not until he was facing down the very real possibility that he was losing the pregnancy.

Now he knew. He did want this.

Gloria’s voice came through again, drifting in and out as Shane was.

“Keep trying, Xena. We have to get him here.”

Fuck.

Of course, Ilya wouldn’t answer unless he was alone. He might even be playing or at practice. Shane couldn’t get his head to work to remember Ilya’s schedule.

There was a sharp scratch in his arm, and some of the pain eased. Just enough for him to stop seeing stars in front of his eyes. He thought he heard the low, deep rumble of Ilya’s voice from the phone, but then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he was pulled under a sudden wave of blackness.

Unknown to him, there had been a light sedative in that painkiller. The best option was to try to sedate him as much as was safe, so he didn’t hear the resulting conversation as Gloria took over the phone call and tried to explain without giving certain information away. They had to try to get his muscles to relax and the cramping to stop, or his body would tear itself apart. If Gloria hadn’t already suspected that Shane Hollander was a ridiculously high-scoring Carrier, then this would have confirmed it, test result or no test result.

Shane wouldn’t know till hours later the sheer panic and heartache that phone call had caused. For now, he was drifting, one hand still pressed tightly to his lower belly as if by the sheer force of his will, he could keep the little life there, inside where it was safe.

 

All the way in Boston, a phone call had changed the course of everything. The pain-filled cries that had echoed through the crappy speakers. The frantic-sounding instructions being barked out and the loud, terrifying sounds of hospital machines beeping incessantly had sent ice down Ilya Rozanov's spine. He had no idea what had gone wrong, or even how the fucking hell the nurses had known to call his number from Shane’s phone, but something deep in his chest was telling him he was needed. That he needed to go.

He had no fucking idea what was going on, but his phone was in his hand before he could think it through. He had booked an emergency flight that was leaving in an hour, then he was throwing a few changes of clothing into his bag and calling up his coach’s number. He sent one message.

Ilya ➡️ Family emergency. On flight.

He then turned his phone into do-not-disturb mode. The only number able to get through was ‘Jane’. His coach would kill him, but he didn’t really care right about now. The only thoughts in his head were to get to Shane. To get to the man he loved and had never told. May never get to tell now. 

Ilya had to fight down the tears that were threatening to spill over. He never should have left that day he visited. Shane had looked so fragile, so hurt, and it had hurt Ilya physically to leave. It had felt like he was ripping out half of his heart and leaving it, bruised and bleeding, on that shitty little cold hospital bed.

He had seen that Shane was in a state. That he was alone. Had felt the strangeness in the doctors and nurses around Shane. He had kicked himself all the way out of the hospital and the flight back to Boston. He had been short, snappish and angry at his team. Unable to even look at Marlow, even though he knew the hit had been clean, just fucking unlucky. In fact, he had kept away from his friend. In this state, he was very liable to hurt his friend, not in a hockey fight kind of way. 

No. In a way, Ilya had been trained in multiple forms of mixed martial arts and military styles of hand-to-hand combat when he was younger, even right up until he had been drafted. He actually didn’t think he trusted himself around Cliff for a while. Not until he had calmed down, and that was before this had happened. If he had known, he would have never left. He should never have left.

At the time, it had felt so wrong.

Why hadn’t he listened to his gut? His instincts had been screaming at him to stay. To tell the world to go fuck itself, glue himself to Shane’s side and never leave. Or even better, take him home with him. Away. Far from those bastards in the Voyageurs, who had never treated Shane with any kind of respect that he had deserved. Shane carried their whole franchise on his back, and they just didn't give a shit. 

Ilya was on a flight and heading back to Montreal before he could even think it through.

What the fuck had happened?

He could only hope that Shane was okay, but he had no way of finding out till he got there. It was going to be a long couple of hours. He fought down the terror that wanted to drown him. That wouldn’t do any good now. He would just have to wait and see. If he spent the whole hour-and-a-half flight thinking up more and more catastrophic things that could have happened to Shane since he left his bedside, well, there was no one watching him right now, was there? 

Chapter 2: Compatible

Chapter Notes

Sorry this took so long. Day 2 of a very nasty migraine so I apologise for any mistakes and they will be fixed later.

Let me know what you think. Enjoy.

Ilya was a mess.

Only internally, but still. There must have been a look on his face that caused people to actively move out of his way, even with a black, nondescript hoodie on and one of Shane’s more subtle Voyageur caps pulled down over his distinctive blond curls. 

His sunglasses covered the dark, panicked look in his eyes. Hailing a cab was easy enough. The airport was always full of them.

“Montreal General, please.”

He managed to tack the plea on by sheer force of will, but it was a close thing. His accent was heavier than ever, and there was no hiding it, but he just had to hope no Voyageurs fans were lurking around right now. The traffic was seemingly against him; every light was on red, and the cars seemed to be moving at a snail's pace through the city. 

In the back of the cab, Ilya dug his blunt nails into the meat of his thighs as he tried to corral his spiralling thoughts. The what-ifs were racing through his head. How could things have gone so wrong in 24hours? Sharp canines dug into his bottom lip as he fought to keep calm. It felt like the journey was taking far too long. 

When the massive, sprawling hospital finally came into view, Ilya was using the weight of his body, almost forcibly sitting on his hands, to try to control the shaking of his fingers physically. 

It felt like there were sparks of electricity under his skin. His heart was pounding as he had just come off the ice after a gruelling game. He basically threw a lot more money than the cab had cost at the driver and tried not to run for the entrance. 

The double doors hissed open. Cold air blasted him in the face from the air conditioning. It made his tired eyes sting at the sudden temperature drop.

 

The nurse on the phone had told him to go straight through the main entrance and to press the buzzer at the door to the private wing off to the right. It would enable him to get through without being seen walking directly into the ward Shane was in, since he had been moved from the room where Ilya had snuck in to see him barely a day ago.

As soon as he pressed the buzzer, the door swung open. Ilya stepped through. There was a tiny little nurse in a strange teal coloured set of scrubs who was apparently waiting for him.

“Ilya Rozanov?”

“Da. Yes. That’s me.”

She sent him a tense smile and waved him to follow her.

“Good. I’m Nurse Xena. We spoke on the phone before Dr Gloria took over. Follow me, please.”

Ilya barely noticed the way the rooms got fancier, larger and more elaborate as they went. He didn't even try to read the English medical words plastered all over the wards to work out where they were going. 

Right now, his brain wouldn't be able to translate them correctly anyway. He was too fixated on getting to Shane. The tight band of pressure in his chest was easing the closer they got. Shane was close. Ilya always knew where he was. They could always find each other, even without looking. It always made playing against each other that little bit more challenging. 

Something no one else could come close to. He had to force his legs to keep pace with the tiny woman who was leading him. His muscles were quivering with the effort to hold back. 

He wanted to run. He wanted to throw open every door until he laid eyes on Shane. Until he had his hands on him. 

Until he knew he was okay. 

 

The alarm of the door opening sounded like gunshots; it was that loud in Ilya’s ears. 

An older woman stepped out and locked her eyes with his. She slowly shut the door behind her but didn’t move away, her body blocking the entrance. Ilya’s lip curled upwards in a silent snarl. A reflex he couldn't seem to hold in. Shane was behind that door. 

He knew it. He knew it with every fibre of his being.

“Mr Rozanov.”

With a herculean effort, Ilya smoothed his face and eased his stance back, down from the edge of aggressive to something more publicly acceptable.

“Shane is currently sedated. I’m going to let you go in, but I can’t discuss anything more than I explained on the phone until he comes back around.”

Ilya nodded. He would literally do or say anything right now to get into that room where Shane was.

“That’s fine. Please. Just. Need to see him.”

She shot him a look that was halfway between sympathetic and understanding, then finally. Finally, she opened the door to let Ilya inside.

Shane looked small. 

Fragile. 

Broken in a way he hadn't been when Ilya had last seen him. 

He couldn't wrap his head around what could have possibly happened in the last 24 hours or so. That didn't stop him from going to him, though. It was like they were magnets. Always was. They could pretend to resist all they wanted, but they could never stay away. Not completely.

Ilya was fed up trying. He collapsed into the chair next to the bed. It must have been put here for him. With trembling fingers, he reached out and ran the back of his huge hand across the soft arch of Shane’s cheek. Tracing the still stunningly beautiful constellation of freckles on too pale skin. 

He didn't want to stay away anymore. 

These nurses already knew anyway, so what fucking difference did it make, really?

He knew what difference it made. 

Russia. 

That was the main problem. 

The NHL was next. Honestly though. Ilya was fed up. 

His team wasn't like most of the others. He and Marlow had made damn sure of it as soon as he had taken the Captaincy. Things had changed. Not all had liked it. Ilya had dealt with them. Marlow had followed up. If that hadn't worked, then Ilya had traded them. 

 

Coach LeClaire had been on board from day one. He hadn't allowed a lot of the slurs and insults as other coaches did. The rest had always been away from any officials. In the locker rooms, the showers and on the ice. Those Ilya had dealt with. 

From the half-whispered, quiet fragments he had gotten from Shane over the years, the Voyageurs were not like that, despite Shane’s best efforts.

Montreal as a place wasn't bad, not really, but the team. From the tiny bits that Shane had allowed him to pick up. 

They were bad. 

Possibly the worst in the league. 

Oh, Ilya knew Shane. Probably knew him better than anyone else did. 

The real him. Not the Captain mask. Not the media face. 

Not the perfect ‘Golden boy’ of Canada, everyone, including his own team, had labelled him. No, Ilya knew him as Shane.

As the scared but desperately interested 17-year-old who had obeyed him when he had mouthed ‘more’ on a filthy gym floor at a ridiculous hour in the morning. Shane didn't know what he was. Not back then. Ilya had seen it. 

Had tested it, even though it was wrong and so fucking risky, but he hadn't been able to help it. Shane had submitted so beautifully, so willingly to his command. Over and over again. Shane dropped so fast to his knees that even Ilya had been shocked the first time. Then it became an addiction, only for him. 

He had fucked up a few times; he was well aware. 

Vegas. 

He had been cruel. He had deliberately ignored his usual aftercare. Even in their limited amount of time, he had always made sure to follow through, but he had been raw, too close to falling off the edge into something he couldn't come back up from. 

 

He had been terrified. Ilya had paid for it. Just knowing what he had done, knowing that Shane would have dropped, had caused him to drop. Badly. For days afterwards. 

Never again. 

He had overcompensated when he scared Shane off that day; he had begged him to stay. 

The tuna melt incident. They had both slipped, but it had been Ilya’s fault. He had pushed too far and too fast. 

He had known Shane couldn't deal with their rules changing like that with no warning; he had known, but he had done it anyway. Ilya had cursed himself for weeks. He had suffered for it. Had to watch Shane and Rose fucking Landry. Something very ugly had lived in his chest for those horrific few weeks. 

The only blessing was that it had been short. They had reconnected at the All-Star game. 

Shane had looked so fucking good when he walked over to him at that damn bar. Too fucking good. His skin had glowed, even more than normal. He looked like he was at a healthier weight, too. Ilya had always been watching the damage that ridiculous diet was doing over the years. 

Shane was muscular; he wasn't a small man, but he always seemed to be on the edge of too thin. 

That night in his hotel room, he had felt the difference. The heavier weight of Shane’s chest, his already huge thighs and plush hips. It had driven Ilya a little bit feral. He had taken Shane three times in a row before the smaller man had eventually dragged himself, slightly limping, out of Ilya’s arms. 

Looking down at him now. Hardly a few weeks later. He looked awful again. Back to being too thin, pale under his usual pretty tan shade. Black rings under those beautifully chocolate eyes. Ilya traced his thumb along the limp, cool skin of the hand resting next to where he was sitting. 

The urge to climb into the bed with Shane was strong. He wouldn't. He didn't want to cause more harm than good, since he didn't know anything. 

 

Which was as fucking frustrating as hell. The older doctor, the one who had blocked the door at first, had been very vague on the phone. Had just said Shane had given his contact and asked if he could get here as soon as possible. Ilya knew Shane’s phone had a lock code. He knew what it was even. Which meant he knew that Shane himself had unlocked it and told them whose number to call. It didn't explain why it had been his, not his parents' or even Pike's. 

Ilya pulled a face even at the thought of Hayden Pike. He slumped over the side of the bed, pressed his face as close to Shane’s hip as he dared. 

He just wanted to hold him. 

A very quiet whine had Ilya’s head shooting up. The hand that was held in his gave a twitch and then tightened around his fingers. Shane’s full mouth had pulled down, and there was a pained furrow between sculpted eyebrows. One of the machines Shane was connected to had begun to make a noise. It must have been linked with him waking up because the same doctor from before was suddenly striding in through the door. 

She let him stay where he was but bent to flash a little light into Shane’s eyes. There was a pained groan, and Shane tried to subconsciously move his head away from the source. Which brought him closer to Ilya. His nose twitched. Then the frantic, almost panicked flickering of his eyes under the still-closed lids settled. Ilya lifted his other hand and stroked it soothingly through the sweaty, damp hair, down the soft cheek and cupped it under his jaw. 

The tension drained out of Shane at the touch. Ilya was too busy watching Shane to see the look on the doctor’s face as she made some quick but detailed notes on Shane’s chart. 

He started slightly when she spoke. 

“Get up on the bed with him.”

Ilya looked at her. The bed was bigger than a standard hospital bed. In fact, it was probably closer to a double than a single, but still, it would be a tight fit. Neither of them was exactly small. Ilya looked from her to Shane and spoke softly. 

“It won't hurt him?”

The doctor gave him a much softer smile this time before shaking her head.

“No, quite the opposite, actually. Come to this side, where he hasn't got any lines attached. Can you lift him over slightly?”

Yes. Ilya could and did lift Shane. 

He carefully gathered Shane into his arms and eased him over so he could climb up onto the bed after him. The moment Shane felt him settle, he moved. His eyes were still closed, but now he was pressed up into Ilya’s chest, nose buried in Ilya’s neck, and a strong leg wrapped its way in between his own. Almost at once, Shane’s body relaxed, but the doctor was still frowning at the readings. The door opened, and the nurse from before slipped in. She came to stand beside the doctor, looked at the chart, then back at Ilya on the bed with Shane. 

“Skin-to-skin contact.”

The doctor looked at her, then back to them. She snapped her fingers and then shrugged. 

“We don't have a compatibility score yet, but it wouldn't hurt regardless. Ilya. Can you take off your top, please?”

Ilya blinked at her. She sighed. 

“Just go with it, please. He won't wake fully until we can get these readings to stabilise for long enough. His body is in crisis mode.”

He sat up, wiggled his arm out from under Shane long enough to get his hoodie and tank over his head and then settled back down. The nurse had taken Shane’s hoodie off, careful around the IV wire in his arm. The room was warm, but Shane’s bare skin was cold. Ilya ran hot, always had. Shane was usually cooler, especially the little ice blocks that he called feet, but never like this. 

Without bothering to check, he gathered Shane up in his arms. He, too, felt better when their skin pressed together. His warmth was seeping into Shane’s chilled skin. He ran his hand down that muscular back, a soothing rhythmic motion, but it didn't seem to be enough. 

Ilya pressed his face into Shane’s damp hair and began murmuring in Russian. 

“Come back to me, please, my love. I need you. I love you. It's always been you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wish I were as brave as you. Just open those beautiful eyes for me, please. I will do better, I promise.”

As he was whispering, his other hand had drifted down. Somehow, his huge palm was covering Shane’s lower belly, just under his belly button. His fingers had drifted under the top of the waistband of the loose sweats, but just to cradle that softer section of skin, not to do anything else. 

Ilya had always gravitated here when they were together. 

There was something so arousing about it for both of them. If Ilya wanted to work Shane up quickly, all he needed to do was start paying attention here and to the soft curve of Shane’s hips.

For whatever reason, it seemed to help. 

Colour was returning to Shane’s skin, his breathing was calming down, and the beeping of the machines was slowing to a stop. The doctor let out a sigh of relief and sat down in the chair where Ilya had been. She looked tired; Ilya now noticed. He began to move his thumb in gentle circles across the taut skin where his hand was resting. Shane melted into him. 

The lingering tension that had been keeping his body that little bit too stiff was now gone. Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s freckles, then his cheek and then lastly on his lips. 

 

Chocolate eyes opened. Ilya didn't move. Shane’s eyes were bright, glassy with pain and confusion, but they locked onto him at once. A spark of instant recognition made something feel warm and soft inside Ilya’s chest. 

“Ilya?”

Shane’s voice was cracked and dry. The doctor reached over with a water bottle that had a straw in it. Ilya took it from her and held it up to Shane’s lips. 

“Slowly, just a bit, okay.”

Ilya passed the bottle back once Shane was done. He almost didn't put his hand back where it had been. Now Shane was awake, but the minute he had moved, some of the colour had drained back away. So he carefully manoeuvred them so he could slide his hand back to Shane’s lower belly. 

The effect was instant. Shane relaxed back down into his hold again. The doctor chose that moment to speak up. 

“Shane, are you good for us all to talk now?”

Something flashed over Shane’s face. Ilya barely caught it, but it was there and gone in the blink of an eye. 

“Guess I have no choice.”

The doctor shot him a look. Ilya was confused. He looked from the woman to Shane, then gently hooked his fingers under his chin and lifted so they could fully look at each other. 

“Talk about what, Lyubimyy?”

If Shane noticed the Russian pet name, he didn't mention it. Honestly, it had slipped out. Ilya had been using Russian to hide his growing affection for this man for years by now. Shane, however, looked scared. Like on the edge of a panic attack, he was that scared. 

Ilya tightened his hold and pressed a kiss to his forehead, hopefully to provide a bit of comfort. Shane looked between Ilya and the doctor. Ilya wondered if he would ask her to leave, but he didn't; instead, he looked rather pleadingly at the woman, who sighed but sat up straighter and looked directly at Ilya.

“You listen. You don't interrupt and don’t move from there, no matter what. Okay?”

Fuck. 

 

Ilya almost snapped to attention at the fierce tone. She could have given his old coach back in Russia a run for his money. 

“Da. Yes. Just please tell me what's wrong?”

Shane took a deep breath and pressed one hand up against Ilya’s bare chest, his fingers kneading absently into the solid muscle as he began to talk. Once he started, it all came pouring out, as if he would stop if he looked up at Ilya, then it would all be over. 

“So, you remember that day I, erm, well, the day I stayed over then left. Well, we may not have bothered to use protection, right? Because I said you could if you were clean, and you said you were, and I was so …”

Here, Shane was almost quivering, voice starting to break, but Ilya held his tongue; the glare the doctor was giving him from behind Shane promised violence. 

“Well, anyway. Afterwards, the whole team was sick, but I was sick for longer. Then I couldn't be with Rose. I’m sorry, I should never have run. When I was brought in after the hit, the first doctors were talking about blood markers and more tests. They wouldn't tell me anything. Not until Gloria came and intervened. I didn't know. I promise I didn't. I went down last night; they said it was too much strain on my body, with the hit and then the separation. Ilya. I’m so sorry.”

Shane was crying now. Ilya could feel the tears against his throat. However, he was pretty sure he understood. Probably better than Shane himself, by the sound of it. Either he had never been tested, or someone had lied to him. Ilya wasn't sure which was the better option, but right now, he needed this doctor Gloria woman to confirm a few things. He didn't let go; he just shifted them. He gathered Shane’s still-shaking form into his lap so he could sit up, but still keep him close. 

He made sure to keep his hand cradling Shane’s lower belly, pretty sure he now understood why it was helping. Now that he was sitting up, he could look at the doctor fully. She was watching his hands with knowing eyes. 

“Shush, Lyubimyy. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Gently, Ilya tucked Shane’s face back into his neck and then directed his questions to the doctor. 

“Has he had the test now? What is it called here?”

She lifted one thin eyebrow but replied. 

“The C test or Carrier gene test here. Russian, yes?”

Ilya nodded. Russia did have its own version, but it was more of a screening than a test. You really didn't want to be found positive in Russia unless you were one of the diamond rare ones above a level 8. Sasha had not been that high. He had been a 4 at best. Ilya remembered the beating he had taken after that. How both he and Svetlana had covered for him, had protected him for years until they could get him out to Paris. 

 

“Da. Yes. How high was the score?”

She looked between them, then down at her tablet. 

“Results aren't back yet, but I would guess a minimum of a high 8. If not a 9 or even a 10. You got here just in time, but any other Carrier I have treated, that would have resulted in death to both of them.”

Ilya growled softly. Just as he had feared. He tightened his hand on Shane’s stomach and rubbed softly. Shane made a gentle, rumbling purr in the back of his throat. Ilya looked down at him with a look he knew wasn't hiding anything. 

“Did we lose it?”

The doctor shook her head at once. 

“No. You got here just in time, and Shane is damn strong. His body was killing itself to hold on.”

Relief. 

It flooded through Ilya without warning. Objectively, he had known. Had understood what Shane was trying to tell him. That Shane was a Carrier. That Shane hadn't known himself. 

Before he had pushed too far, before he had spooked him, Shane had been the one to say Don’t bother. Had been too gone, they both had. Too lost in each other to separate long enough to go get more condoms from the bedroom. 

He had taken Shane unprotected at least twice that day. If Shane was a level 8 or higher and their compatibility was as high as Ilya suspected. Well. That's all it would take. Then came the horror and blinding rage.

Shane had been pregnant when he had been with Rose. When he had been playing all this time, when he had taken that awful hit. He snapped a look at the doctor. 

“Is it okay now, though? The hit didn't do any damage?”

Then, in angry Russian. 

“I will fucking kill Marly when I get my hands on him. He knows to make sure his hits are fucking clean. That asshole.”

A small, quiet chuckle came from Shane. Ilya looked down to see that Shane had pulled back a bit and was now looking up at him.

“You know it wasn't Marlow’s fault. It was just bad timing.”

 

Ilya’s jaw dropped. He was pretty fucking sure he had just said that in Russian. How the fuck had Shane understood that? He narrowed his eyes at the beautiful man in his arms. 

“Shane?”

Chocolate eyes looked at him, a spark of rarely seen mischief in them. 

“Yes, Ilya?”

He growled softly and playfully pretended to nip at Shane’s neck. Then he spoke right into his ear, and he felt the shiver go through Shane’s body as he let his lips brush against the sensitive skin just under. 

“Shane. When did you fucking learn Russian?”

He said it in Russian, just to make sure he hadn't got it wrong before. He was not disappointed. Shane lifted his free arm to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him close. Then he replied in Russian, accent-free and a bit slow but correct. 

“Been learning bits and pieces for years, but I locked in right after the phone call you made after your father’s funeral. I'm good at languages.”

He sounded so shy. So sure, Ilya was going to be upset with him. Ilya dropped his head to the top of Shane’s and let out a sigh, part exasperation and part disbelief, because of course Shane could fucking learn Russian in such a short space of time. 

“No fucking accent. Of course.”

That got a laugh out of Shane. Ilya still refused to let him go. He was still paler than he should be, skin taking some of Ilya’s natural furnace levels of warmth, but Shane was obviously exhausted and still sore. The doctor spoke up again. Ilya turned to look at her. 

“So, Mr Rozanov. You understand what is happening here? You understand that Shane didn't know he was a Carrier?”

Ilya looked at her. She was obviously concerned. What medical professional wouldn’t be after hearing he was from Russia? They were well known among any doctor who specialised in Carrier Medicine; no one wanted to be discovered as a Carrier in Russia. It was pretty much the only thing worse than a death sentence.  

“Da. I know about Carriers. Helped hide one when I was a teenager. Got him out.”

The smile she gave him was more genuine this time. 

“I take it that you understand that we need to perform a compatibility test on you both pretty sharpish?”

Ilya nodded. He did understand. He and Svetlana had researched every little thing they could back then, and Ilya had looked for any differences when he moved to Boston. In case there was anything he needed to look out for if he did sleep with men now that he was out of Russia. Of course, he had slept with a man. A man who had fucking ruined him for anyone else, man or woman. 

 

“Will be high.”

The doctor nodded in agreement. She had seen it too. Shane looked confused, but Ilya couldn't help but kiss him softly. He looked very cute with that expression. 

“How do you know all this?”

Ilya kissed him. Almost giddy with the fact that he could. With the fact that Shane wasn't pulling away, wasn't trying to hide, even if it was just in front of a doctor he had apparently decided he trusted. 

“The coach's son I told you about, do you remember?”

Shane nodded. Ilya subconsciously continued to rub soft circles on his stomach as he talked. 

“He was discovered as a Carrier. Low level. Svetlana and Svetlana covered for him and got him out as soon as we could. Did loads of reading. Checked it all out when I came to Boston, just in case Russia was different.”

Ilya turned back to the doctor. 

“Carriers have to be registered. We don't want this public. Not safe. Is there anything we can do?”

She looked between them, then at Shane’s readings, which were now much improved.  

“I would say we get the testing done as soon as possible, but from watching you, I would put money on your compatibility being very high. That means we can test for a bond. If there is a bond, then you automatically get to go on the private register instead. Rare but not unheard of. There are currently 11 pair-bonded couples in the world right now. All have a compatibility rating of above 90%. Which is the rarest of the scores. However, only 3 of those pairs have a Carrier with a scale of 8 or over.”

Shane was made to stand up. Ilya growled and tightened his arms around his waist. This was not happening. 

“What are you doing, Lyubimyy?”

He greatly enjoyed the lovely pink blush that flooded Shane’s cheeks at the affectionate term. Of course, he understood it. Still, he wasn't letting Shane anywhere out of his sight, or out of his arms right now. 

If he was right and they were bonded, it would explain a lot if they were; then they actually needed to stay together, like medically needed to. 

“Er… going to do the test?”

 

The doctor, Gloria, he supposed he should probably call her now. Looked at Shane with flat-out disbelief on her face. Ilya, on the other hand, had known exactly what Shane was up to. 

“Nyet. Stubborn creature. They only need blood from me. You don't need to move.”

He looked at Gloria. 

“Gloria, can I call you Gloria? Can you take the blood now? It can be run with your C test.”

Gloria nodded and smiled at Ilya. It was a very sweet, very motherly type of smile that made Ilya’s heart ache for a moment. Until he felt Shane nudge his neck softly and kiss him under his chin. 

“Yes, of course you may. And yes, you are correct. I can run the first compatibility test on your blood through the specialist machine.”

She went to the drawers of medical supplies by the door and pulled out a blood test kit. It was a standard one, since Ilya was the Sire, not the Carrier. He held out the arm not currently wrapped around Shane’s waist and let her take a full vial of blood. Once she had it done, she looked at Shane and patted where his leg was under the blanket. 

“The results will be back shortly. Your Carrier scale one is nearly done; the basic compatibility one is quicker. Try and get some sleep.”

Shane nodded, but as soon as she left, he turned the best he could in Ilya’s arms, hissing softly at the pull of the IV in his arm that was getting in the way. Big chocolate eyes looked up at him, glossy with worry, fear and unshed tears. Ilya kissed him. He slid his hand around Shane’s jaw, cradling his neck and cheek, before he pressed their lips softly together. 

“It's alright, Lyubimyy. I am not angry.”

Ilya settled Shane tighter into his chest, their skin still pressed together. He pulled the blanket up tighter around them. Shane was still colder than he would like, but he was slowly improving. 

“You scared me.”

Shane sniffled softly and nuzzled closer. He pressed his lips to Ilya’s chest, and he felt the soft press against his heated skin. 

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't know.”

Ilya shook his head; he wasn't having Shane blame himself for this. It wasn't just that he hadn't known. Ilya hadn't known either. He was just as much to blame as Shane was. He knew he should have gone and gotten the condom. He knew that Carriers existed and was apparently far more aware than Shane was. 

 

“Ah nyet. No sorry. Was not just you alone, Shane.”

This caused the tears to actually fall now. Ilya’s heart broke just a little at the soft, broken sounds coming from the man he loved. 

“But I nearly lost them. That's on me, not you, Ilya.”

Hope flooded Ilya. He knew he had to ask, and no matter what Shane’s answer was, he would accept it. It was Shane’s choice. It was Shane’s body. Bond or no bond. If Shane wanted to try to terminate the pregnancy, then Ilya would support him. 

“Shane. Do you want …”

He didn't get to finish. Shane had reached up and covered his mouth with his strong hand. 

“Ilya. Answer me honestly. Do you want this? With me?”

He was well aware that Shane wanted him to answer first, but he needed to make this clear. Here and now. 

“Shane. If you don't want to do this. That is your choice; it's your body. I will not blame you; I will support you no matter what.”

Ilya cupped Shane’s neck and jaw. He angled his head so he could keep eye contact. So Shane knew he meant every word. 

“Da. I want this, but only if you do. It will not be easy; we will need to work this out, but we can if this is what you want to.”

Shane kissed him. Desperate and overflowing with emotion that neither of them had the words for. 

“I wasn't sure at first. I really wasn't, Ilya. Not until I thought I had lost the baby. It tore my heart out, Ilya. My body almost tore itself apart to keep it because I wanted to keep it. Gloria said the Carrier has to want to keep it; otherwise I would have miscarried.”

He held Shane to him and buried his face into his hair, inhaling his scent. He couldn't keep the grin off his face. 

“I want to. Want you so much.”

He didn't have the words in English, so he switched to Russian in the hopes that Shane would understand it. 

“I want everything with you. I love you. Every scrap of attention you will give me. It has always been you. You have ruined me for anyone else.”

They were both crying now. Tears tracked down both of their faces. Ilya leaned down to swipe his thumbs across those delicate cheekbones, gathering up the tears on his fingers. He kissed him, lips soft but demanding. Shane opened up for him perfectly, a little mewl escaping as Ilya pressed deeper. 

The final tightness around his heart eased as they sank into each other. Shane broke away first, but didn't go far. He breathed into Ilya’s mouth and whispered four tiny words. 

“I love you too.”

Chapter 3: Testing time

Chapter Notes

Here is all the testing. We will get into all the details of how these effect Shane and Ilya as we go but next up will be Ilya taking Shane home with him, to Boston ...

Please ignore any errors, Bee hasn't got this fair yet! Let me know what you think.

Dr Gloria Foxley was the leading expert in Carrier Medicine in the US. There were a few other doctors on the same level as her, but none with her experience or her success rate. It wasn’t a lack of skill or even care; it was a lack of understanding.

Gloria had devoted her life to being the best, to knowing the details that others would write off as inaccuracies or just hormones. That was the most annoying thing about her colleagues: the belief that the ability to be a Carrier made men as susceptible as women to their hormones. Which, honestly, was a load of crap. 

Carriers didn’t experience hormones in the same way as women do; of course, they didn’t. It drove her a little bit nuts, honestly. Then there was the fact that a lot of the so-called CME-qualified doctors were barely passable in her opinion; they were barely more than jumped-up OB/GYNs. 

She had been in this field ever since she qualified. Far longer than most. 

Gloria had known what she wanted and hadn’t let anyone stop her. After all, if there had been a doctor of her level with her brother, then maybe he and his baby would have survived. 

Instead, she had been left with a heartbroken and bondsick brother-in-law who had only lasted 6 months after her Damien had gone. 

It was why she almost didn't want to know the result of these tests. Their compatibility was off the charts; she could see that. There was no test needed for that. The Sire - Ilya bloody Rozanov; she was a hockey fan, sue her - had known instinctively what was wrong and where he was needed. 

Gloria felt sorry for Shane. He had been lied to by his own mother. Oh, she understood; the rules and laws for Carriers were utterly ridiculous. 

However, that wasn’t an excuse to leave Shane vulnerable, especially at what she suspected his level would come out as. The doctor who had done the test must not have had any idea what they were dealing with; no real CME would have hidden a level 8 plus. At least not from the Carrier himself. It was too dangerous. 

It was clear that there was a bond. What level it was would become clear, but she wasn't sure if Shane understood the reality of what this all meant for him. If he was as high-level as she suspected, then he was really lucky to have not been discovered before. Although if he had bonded young, and from watching the two of them, Gloria knew this was not a new relationship, then the bonding markers from the Sire would have hidden his blood work on a standard drug test. Still, the sooner she could get all the testing and paperwork done, the better. 

 

The testing room was state-of-the-art. 

When Gloria brought down the sample of blood from Ilya, she spotted Xena already sitting and waiting in front of the C test machine. Her young protegee looked up when she came in and gave her an excited smile. Gloria was glad that Xena was at least getting to observe this case; after all, it very well might be the only level 8 plus Carrier that she ever got to treat. 

“How long is left on the C test, Xena?”

Her small, delicate fingers flew over the keys, and a number flashed up on the screen. 

7654 out of 1000.  - Time till complete: 16 minutes. 

Perfect. That was still enough time to run the first level of compatibility testing with the Sire’s blood. She went to the small, circular side chamber that was on the right-hand side of the machine. This was where the sample from the Sire was put in, usually in the last half of the C test, being complete, as it didn't take as much time for this bit. It also had to be done in the last half, because the markers hadn't been established until the test reached a minimum of halfway. 

No one said these tests were easy. 

Gloria put a pair of fresh gloves on and inserted the sample into the chamber. The machine paused, accepted the sample and then continued. It wouldn’t take long, and hopefully, those two would sleep for a bit until they got these results and could move on to the next section. Shane had been exhausted; she was well aware that they were only just in time. If Ilya hadn't gotten here as fast as he did, then she knew the outcome; she had seen the outcome before. 

Death. 

Most likely for both the baby and Shane himself. 

That was the thing: unlike with a woman, Carriers had a choice. In this sort of situation, which in fairness was usually a breakdown in the pairing or where the Sire has done something to damage the bond or the Carrier. Then what the Carrier wants makes a difference; the body makes the honest choice. 

Shane’s body had very nearly killed itself to hold on to that tiny little life. He was still early, even by high-level Carrier standards and letting the pregnancy go would have been much easier and safer. Unfortunately, other than sedating him as she had done, and hoping like hell that the Sire reached them in time, there hadn't been much else she could have done. It was just so damn lucky that Shane was high level - she didn't need the test to confirm - and in such good physical condition, despite his recent accident. 

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the test completion tone. Both she and Xena gathered around the screen. 

Mr Shane Hollander - C Test results. 

Age - 25

Blood type - AB negative

Carrier Gene - Positive 

Active Pregnancy - Confirmed 

Carrier level - 10

Bond detected - Further testing required

Biological compatibility test - Blood sample results above 80% - Further testing required. 

 

Well. There it was. In black and white. 

Shane Hollander was confirmed a level 10 Carrier. Gloria was not surprised, well, just a little. Honestly, she had thought at least a high 8 or maybe a 9 at best. There wasn’t a known level 10. 

This made things a lot more complicated for the young man.

She carried on reading. His blood type was very rare too, which was a risk when he went into labour. She would need to make sure he was close to a decent Carrier ward, or transfer herself to the one nearest to him. That would be safest, even if it were just for the few months left of this pregnancy. 

With results like this, even if he had wanted to try to terminate. It likely wasn’t possible. No wonder his body had fought so hard. A level 10 would only have a handful of Sires that were compatible enough to even get pregnant in the first place. There was the bond. Further testing required meant that it was well above what this machine could detect, but she had expected that, having seen them together. 

So now that they had their first set of official results, they had to get a move on pretty quickly. Gloria was well aware they couldn’t risk this getting out, and the longer they were in here, the more likely that was. She turned to Xena and clicked the button to print a copy of the results to take to Shane. 

“Right, Xena, we need to get a wiggle on. Go and find Bridget, get the full bond and compatibility suite set up, please. I will go make sure Shane is up to it, but we can’t wait much longer.”

Xena nodded. 

“No problem, shall I bring some food to the testing suite?”

Gloria considered it, then shook her head. 

“No, we can’t risk it, not during the testing, but I will send one of you near the end so they don’t have to wait when they are finished. Shane is still underweight, and that's dangerous after such a close call.”

Xena saluted and was off. Gloria was very grateful that both of her students were very good and, most importantly, they listened to her. 

She made her way to the private room that Shane Hollander was in. It was the best room in the ward, since she had already had the feeling he would be a high level, not this high, but pretty damn high. The fact that the Sire of his baby had turned out to be Ilya Rozanov was just the icing on the cake as far as she was concerned. 

As she entered, dark blue eyes snapped open and trained on her, the first moment of wakefulness being filled with a sharp, protective surge that was bordering on dangerous. It was there and gone in only a second, but Gloria knew she had seen it, flashing through those eyes for just a brief glimmer. 

Gloria kept her body language soft, unthreatening and safe. Ilya soon relaxed; his tensing had caused Shane to stir. From where he was tucked into Ilya’s arms, the best he could be with his IV and monitoring leads still attached. She could see from here that his colour was back to what looked like normal, his numbers all looked much better, and his vitals had all stabilised nicely. 

“It’s just me. I have Shane’s preliminary results if you are both ready?”

 

She watched as Ilya cupped a huge hand around Shane’s face, gently lifting and nuzzling a very soft kiss against his lips. Gloria almost wanted to turn away; it was so tender, so private a moment, but she needed to see the effect this was having on Shane and the baby, so she couldn’t. It was an effort to keep her eyes on the monitors and Shane’s chart as Ilya carefully woke his sleeping partner. 

Once those dark chocolate coloured eyes had opened, long eyelashes had fluttered up at Ilya as Shane focused on his surroundings. Gloria gave them a moment. She was aware that Shane’s fluctuation of his instincts would probably be in overdrive right now, with the accident, the separation of the bond mates and then the scare his body had received shortly after. It was a lot for anyone to go through, never mind someone finding out that they were not only a Carrier who had been lied to by his mother, but was also pregnant. 

If he was triggered, then most likely Ilya would be triggered too, depending on how high their compatibility rating was and how strong the bond was. Gloria really didn't need them both going feral right now. It really would not be good for Shane’s system right now to be thrown into the high stress of going feral. 

“Shane. Would you like Ilya to stay?”

Technically, they hadn’t been tested yet. She had her suspicions, but right now, that wasn’t legally binding. Shane had to agree to allow her to share his results until the official documentation was complete. 

Those previously warm, bright chocolate eyes darkened and narrowed on her. Gloria had to force herself to stay still and relaxed. This was a normal response to the stress and trauma that any Carrier would be exhibiting, never mind a level 10. 

Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t wary. Shane Hollander was now one of the most dangerous men on the planet right now.

A Carrier’s strength only increased during pregnancy. The only reason he had been so drained, so weak when he had been brought in was a combination of bond sickness, the injury and fighting for both his own life and the life he was carrying. 

His voice was different. Darker than it had been, a sharper edge to it than all their previous interactions. 

“Ilya stays. You can’t separate us.”

She was quick to reassure him; there was no way she wanted him to think that Ilya was being taken away at any point. It would just make everything so much worse. 

“Of course. He stays, Shane. I have to ask, legally, because we need to get the testing done and paperwork filed before I am allowed to just say. Okay?”

He nodded. She knew that Shane was smart, analytical and obviously neurodivergent (Carriers always were; it was part of the gene), but there was a very cold, almost violent spark in those eyes that had her lizard hindbrain sitting up to take notice. 

“So here are your C test results.”

She handed over the printed-out test. It was Ilya who reached forward and took it; technically she shouldn’t have let him, but right now, there was no way she was arguing. 

They spent a minute reading the results over. Then they looked back at her. Shane’s eyes had settled to a less terrifying degree, but Ilya now looked worked up. 

It was he who asked the next question. 

“This is nothing. Russian testing a lot more thorough. Is there not more?”

Ah yes. It would be. Russia and a few other individual countries did not look kindly on Carriers, even more so than the supposedly accepted ones. 

“Not for that test. As you can see, ours only reads the basics and is focused on the Carriers level rather than any other in-depth information. That is why I have come to fetch you both. We need to move to the testing suite and get this all completed. Quickly. Before anyone starts getting nosey.”

 

Ilya nodded and moved to stand. 

There was a low, hasty hiss that had Gloria stepping back before she could stop herself; it had sounded like a very large cat, but she knew it had come from Shane. Her eyes widened as Ilya completely ignored the sound and instead reached down to wrap huge hands around Shane’s waist. Gloria could see he was being gentle, but those were some very large, very powerful hands. Still, the hissing went silent, and Shane allowed the touch. 

Jesus Christ, their bond had to be so very high. 

As she watched, the Russian leaned down and rubbed his nose and mouth along the arched neck and throat of the smaller man beneath him. Shane softened, the hissing being replaced by a deep, throaty purr as he allowed Ilya to lift him to his feet. The hands stayed around his waist as Shane found his balance, but he still held on to the massive arms holding him up. 

Ilya gestured to the IV and monitors still attached to Shane. 

“Can these come off now?”

Gloria would have taken them off already, but she wasn't sure that approaching right now was a good idea, although she would bet Ilya had a basic working knowledge of things like IVs if he had been covering for a Carrier in Russia for years. 

“Yes, do you know how? I don’t think Shane will let me touch him right now.”

It wasn’t Shane that growled. It was Ilya. 

The testing really was a moot point by now. This was the strongest instance of instinct's manifestation that she had ever seen, and it was being mirrored. 

“Da. No one else touches him.”

Shane was already pulling off the monitors, and it was only Ilya’s quick reflexes that stopped him from ripping out the IV in his haste to be free. 

“Easy, Lyubimyy. Let me do it; I don't want you to tear the vein in case they need to put another one in later.”

Gloria couldn’t understand what had just been said, but whatever it was had worked because Shane allowed Ilya to carefully pull out the IV and pull his hoodie back on. He had already pulled his tank top on and seemed to be planning on staying with that. 

She hoped to god there were no nurses in the testing suite other than her two because they might just faint at the sight of those massive shoulders and arms. Then get skinned alive for looking by an instinct-driven, pregnant Carrier. This was going to get so damn messy, wasn't it? 

 

The testing suite was thankfully all set up and just waiting for them by the time they got there. Bridget was standing guard as Xena was making sure all the equipment was ready. 

Ilya scanned the room first, and Gloria watched him, the way his huge frame filled the whole doorway until he was satisfied there was no threat. The way Shane allowed it, he waited patiently until Ilya stepped into the room; the whole exchange was silent. They didn’t even need to look at each other to know. 

Gloria motioned for Xena to stay behind the screens; it was safer if she stayed out of reach for now. Gloria could guide them if Shane wouldn’t allow touch just yet; it was best if she were the only one at risk, as she had spent the most time with Shane. 

“First, we need to get these sensor packs onto both of you. They attach around the arm and thigh. The straps are Velcro, and the sensor pads need to stick to bare skin. Do you want me to put them on? Or would you rather do it?”

Ilya looked at Shane. He tilted his head, then nodded ever so slightly, but he moved to stand in front of Ilya, so the bigger man could wrap an arm around his waist and place that huge palm over the ever so slight curve of Shane’s lower abdomen. The contact seemed to settle them both as Gloria picked up the four sensors and stepped close. 

There was a tiny movement, just a brief tightening of that hand across the precious cargo that Shane was carrying as she came within touching distance, but Shane reached up and back to wind a hand into those blond curls. The moment passed, and Gloria crouched down to wrap the first sensor around Shane’s thigh. The leg was so thick that she had to extend the strap multiple times. 

“Don’t flex too hard. I don't think they designed these for bodies like yours, boys.”

That got a smirk out of Ilya and a huff of slight embarrassment out of Shane, but it did the job; it eased them back down out of the worst of the instinct haze that they were swimming in. 

The arm sensor was easier on Shane anyway, although his biceps were impressive; his thighs were larger. However, when it came to Ilya’s, she had to get a second strap and cut it to make them long enough to get them around both his thighs and biceps. 

“Alright then, first off, we need you to follow a few simple instructions so that we have a baseline. Then we can start on the biological compatibility part.”

They both nodded. They were used to following directions like this, so Gloria did her best to channel a hockey coach as she began what was the most nerve-racking testing she had ever done. 

“I need you to just touch your fingers together first. Three fingers, please.”

Shane held up three fingers, Ilya mirrored him, and they pressed the pads together. The sensors gave a little chime. That noise meant the reading had been successful, so she moved on to the next one. 

“Now entwine your hands, both please.”

 

They followed. Ilya put his huge hands up and offered them out to Shane - smaller, but only as relative to the massive palms he was holding his up against- and slid his fingers up the length of Ilya’s broad hands to tangle their fingers together. Again, the sensors gave a chime, but this time Gloria spotted the frown on Xena’s face. 

Before she moved on, she looked at her student. 

“Xena?”

Wide eyes flickered up to hers, and Xena shook her head. 

Nothing was wrong with the reading then, so it must have been the results that were throwing her off. Then again, Xena would never have seen readings like these; most likely, neither had Gloria herself, but she would have to wait till they were finished with this part to find out. 

“Embrace, please, full body contact. Hands on skin as much as possible, but above the waist.”

She glared at Ilya here, and he threw her a sly smirk that made Shane poke him in the shoulder. 

Then he was wrapping Shane in massive arms and pulling him up against that broad chest. 

Gloria moved around them, keeping a respectable distance but just so she could make sure there was enough skin contact for this one. Ilya’s hands were buried under Shane’s hoodie; she could see the outline of each large hand, where it was obviously splayed across as much as physically possible. 

Shane had his hands up the back of the loose tank top that Ilya had on; his strong hands were wrapped around those huge shoulders and the large expanse of back. Gloria could clearly see his hands were fully pressed against the other man's skin. 

The chime told her that it had worked. However, they did not pull apart. In fact, Ilya bent his head and wrapped his arms tighter around the powerful body in his arms. Shane tucked his head into Ilya’s neck and allowed his weight to be supported. Gloria could see where Ilya’s lips were against Shane’s ear, and Shane’s mouth was pressed against the heated skin at Ilya’s neck. 

The sensor chimed multiple times. 

Xena made a panicked noise from behind the screens as the numbers probably either jumped through the roof or flatlined; she honestly wasn't sure which way the results would go. 

“It’s alright, Xena, just keep going.”

There was a squeak, high-pitched but slightly stifled, like Xena had slammed her hand over her mouth to try and stop the sound escaping. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

The last one was the most invasive, but they had kissed in front of her before, and there were no windows in this suite, so no one could see in. Bridget was still standing guard outside the door. They were as safe as they could be. 

“Sorry about this one, but I need you to kiss- a full kiss, saliva, oxygen, everything needs to be exchanged.”

Ilya didn’t even pause to let her finish. 

He had Shane’s head pulled up, his thumb on his chin and lifted his head so he could get his mouth on him in seconds. 

It was not a sweet, innocent little kiss. No. This was devouring. This was a kiss that could win awards on screens. 

They weren’t stopping. 

The sensor was going haywire; it was chiming and beeping like there was no tomorrow, but she didn’t try to stop them. It was very possible she could lose a finger or two if she tried. She did turn away, though, as her cheeks were a little hot. Instead, she went to where Xena was, a bright, almost violent shade of red herself. 

If Gloria caught her sneaking a quick look around the screens, well, she was young, and there was nothing you could say about the image playing out in front of them except that it was hot. Gloria took her first look at the screens. Then she looked again. 

Nope. 

If she were one for swearing, then this would be the time to use it; unfortunately, she wasn’t, but still, it was tempting, because these numbers were off the charts. Like literally off the charts. The sensors were going mental because the numbers were too high. They were tapping out at 100%. 

This was only the biological compatibility test, and they were above 100%. No wonder it had only taken a single time. In the future, they were going to have to be very careful. A single accident or moment that had led to this was pretty much a guaranteed conception from these numbers. 

 

Once this got out, and it would, even on the private register, some very powerful people kept a very close eye on newly discovered Carriers; then Shane Hollander would become extremely popular. 

Xena made a noise next to her. Gloria looked up, first at her student, then over to her patient. He had his legs wrapped around Ilya Rozanov’s waist and was being held up against the wall by massive hands under his thighs. 

Well. Damn. 

Now she had to go and intervene before they broke the sensors and equipment altogether. Somehow, she didn't think the computer would survive full-body skin contact from these two.  With a deep breath, Gloria summoned her best disapproving grandmother voice and snapped out an instruction. 

“That's enough!”

It half worked. 

Ilya jumped back, not enough to let go or even move away from Shane, but enough to break the kiss and lift his head. Gloria could see his pupils were blown, his eyes glazed over, and his chest was heaving. Then there was Shane. Those chocolate eyes were gone; his eyes were glowing, almost golden. 

Shane hissed at her. 

His top lip was pulled back, and he was actually snarling. The sound was low, raw and nasty. 

Gloria could see Ilya wince slightly, which was apparently enough to focus Shane’s attention back on him, rather than her. She couldn’t understand the low, rumbling words in Russian, but whatever was said, it was enough to bring Shane out of the haze his raging instincts had caused. 

She called over, not stupid enough to go closer. 

“Shane, can you let Ilya go for me, please?”

The battle was visible on his face. Gloria could see the rational, human side fighting with the new, overwhelming flood of bonding instincts. The man won. He lowered his hands, then looked down at his fingers with a look of utter shock. 

She could see, even from this distance, that Shane Hollander was now sporting shiny, wickedly sharp claws. Said claws, which had pinpricks of blood on the edges, which must have been from when Ilya had winced. Shane had dug them into his shoulders without knowing they were there. 

It was the blood of his partner that snapped him out completely. 

Gloria watched as full awareness came back, those eyes losing the bright glow and coming back to pretty, chocolate brown. At once, Shane was fussing at Ilya, trying to look but not touch, until the massive Russian took those shaking hands into his own and ran his thumb over the now entirely normal, human nails. 

Gloria let out a sigh of relief. 

So it looked like the bond wasn’t just a one-way strong one. Which was a very real concern in higher-level Carriers. She hadn’t thought it would be in this particular situation, but still, it had been a worry. This just confirmed that they were definitely bonded, and not only was it strong, but it was also a two-way bond. 

“Okay, Shane, Ilya. I think we need to take a minute. We still have the bond testing to do; then we can go back to your room, Shane and discuss everything at once.”

She watched as Shane gave himself a little shake, then dropped his head onto Ilya’s chest with a low whine. Those huge palms slid gently up Shane’s broad back, and one settled around the back of his neck, while the other wrapped around his waist and stroked softly at his lower stomach. 

Gloria was writing it all down. 

There was no choice. It all had to be documented. They were flying blind here, as far as she was aware; there wasn't another active level 10 Carrier right now. Shane Hollander was the only one. Gloria needed every scrap of data she could get. She very well may have to medically defend their bond and pairing. If someone high up got it into their heads that Shane Hollander was up for grabs. 

Once she was happy that they were both calm again, she stepped forward and pointed to the sensors that were still attached to them. 

“Right, let's get these off, then we move to the next bit. Shane, can I take them off, please?”

It was always the Carrier’s choice. Not the Sire. Well, it was normal; in this case, that might not be completely accurate, but still, the more dangerous of the pair was technically the Carrier, not the Sire. 

Shane turned to her, not removing himself from Ilya’s arms, but then she hadn’t expected him to. 

“Yes. I am so sorry, Gloria. I have no idea what just came over me then. Of course, you can remove them.”

He was so polite. It was a lovely change. 

 

Carefully, she removed all four sensors, checked each of them to make sure the straps hadn't rubbed or broken the skin, which they thankfully hadn’t. He sounded so young. She couldn't help but feel for him. 

“It’s alright, Shane. You didn’t do anything wrong. We can explain everything in more detail as soon as this last test is done. Alright?”

He nodded, eyes bright with both worry and exhaustion. She would put this off if she could, but they really were out of time now. They had Shane confirmed at a level 10 and their compatibility confirmed at 100%. 

Xena came forward with a tray. This was for the next bit, the bond test. 

Gloria pulled on fresh gloves, then picked up the black cylinder. This was the sample tube that would go into the chamber in the machine at the back of the room. It was a pretty simple test, in theory, but not so simple in practice. 

“To test for a bond, I need to do two things. First, I need to take a small sample of blood from each of you, mix it and then place it into the reader here.”

She pointed to the black pod-like chamber on the side of the scanner. The first step would be to analyse the chemical markers in their mixed blood. That was just the basic reader to confirm if the markers that indicate a bond were present. 

The test took all of 30 seconds. 

30 seconds. 

Before the machine was screaming that it had found markers. So many damn markers. According to the readout Gloria was currently looking at, there were more bond markers than blood in this sample. The number was that high. 

All the data was being transferred to her tablet so she would go over it all later, but for now, they needed to get this finished. Shane was clearly flagging, and she didn’t want another instinct haze being triggered by exhaustion and stress. 

The final step was to use the specialised scanner to take a still image of the chemical signals throughout their bodies while they were touching. Some low-level pairings needed to be fully exposed and in full body contact to get the chemicals to show up enough on the image, but with the results that Gloria had just seen. 

Well, she suspected that touching a finger each would be enough, but just in case. 

“Can you stand shoulder to shoulder on the white box and entwine your fingers, please? I need a full-body image, so just one hand each will be plenty.”

Xena leaned forward and whispered. 

“Will that be enough, Ma’am? The last pair needed almost full body contact?”

Gloria understood the question; it was a very valid question. Just because Xena had seen the readings didn't mean she knew what they really meant, even though Gloria herself hadn’t wrapped her head around it yet.   

“Yes. With this pair, I suspect it will be more than enough.”

She was correct, of course. 

The image that came up on the screen 6 and a half minutes later was astonishing. It looked like the scanner had malfunctioned, honestly. Until she looked really closely and pulled the resolution up to its highest. The picture looked like a sunburst had exploded over the top of the original image. She could make out the outline and basic edges of the two men, but everything else was obscured by the bright white washout. 

A bright white light across the image was caused by the sheer number of chemical markers in their bodies when only their hands were touching. 

The way this scanner worked, the lower the level of both the Carrier and the bond, the harder the camera had to work to pick up the chemical signal on film. The higher percentage of skin-to-skin contact made it easier, as full body contact engaged the bond and caused the markers to be most visible. 

If she had tried that here, it would have probably broken the whole thing. 

For now, she downloaded the images, and the baseline ones she used for teaching before shutting it all down and heading back over to the two of them. It was time to get Shane back into bed and some food into him. 

“All done. Do you feel up to walking back to your room, Shane?”

Ilya raised an eyebrow at her, then looked down at Shane. Without a word, he suddenly bent and had gracefully scooped the smaller man into his arms, then stood back to his impressive height. Shane was cradled against his chest in a bridal carry that looked far easier than it should have been. 

“Well, that works too.”

 

Gloria had left them to get settled back in Shane’s room while she arranged for a proper meal to be brought in. 

For both of them. She was worried about Shane’s weight. He would be getting a full physical before she let him leave, whether he liked it or not. 

She brought the food up with her; the fewer people who knew Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov were in the Carrier Unit together, the safer they would be. Carefully, she knocked on the door and then entered. 

They were both on the bed. Shane was curled up in Ilya’s arms, pressed against his chest with his stomach safely between their two muscular bodies, so Shane’s back was to the door, and Ilya was on guard for both of them. 

Glacial blue eyes watched her as she entered. 

The room was quiet, the lights turned down low. At first, she thought Shane was asleep, but those dark eyes had locked onto her as she got closer. 

“Food first, then we can go over the results.”

Gloria handed them both the covered plates and stayed to make sure Shane ate as she collated the data to be able to go through it with them from the start. This was going to be a long explanation. She settled into the chair next to the bed and looked at them both. 

“Are you both ready?”

Shane looked at Ilya. She watched as Ilya cupped Shane’s cheek and rubbed his thumb under one eye, the movement tender and gentle. 

“Whatever the results. It doesn’t change anything. I promise, Lyubimyy.”

Shane pressed a kiss to the underside of Ilya’s jaw, then nodded to her to go ahead as he settled with his side pressed to Ilya’s. So he could both see her and keep his stomach pressed between them. 

“Results from your Carrier test, Shane.”

Here she held up the tablet so they could see the full results as she talked through them.

“You are a Level 10 Carrier. So that puts you as the only active Level 10 that I am aware of right now.”

Shane cocked his head to the side in apparent confusion. 

“I thought you said I was a high 8?”

Gloria sighed. Of course, he had taken it literally. 

“I said you were at least a high 8, Shane, not that you were that level. I knew you were high, so did Ilya. Any lower and you would have miscarried by now.”

When she said this, both of them pressed a hand to Shane’s lower stomach. Shane’s hands were large, but Ilya’s were even bigger. The span of a single hand was enough to cover the whole area. 

“Next is your biological compatibility score. The highest I have ever dealt with personally is 87%, but I have observed two other cases where the pair were 91% and 93%.”

She flicked the screen and pulled up the test score, holding it so the number could be seen by both of them, even if Shane was squinting slightly. 

 

“Yours came in at 100%, but it was actually off the chart.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow at her in question. 

“What does this ‘off the chart’ mean?”

It was Shane who answered before she could. 

“It means scoring well above what has been recorded before.”

Gloria nodded. That was a good explanation for it, actually, because that was exactly what the results showed. It showed that they were above what they currently had parameters for. So 100% was the highest they could be given right now. 

“It means you have the highest compatibility rating we have ever seen. So far. We may get a pair higher in future, but I honestly doubt it.”

The Russian looked smug. 

Gloria had to hide a smile at that. It was something to be proud about after all, even if it was going to mean more danger for them both in the long run. 

“Last are the bond testing results. Now this is two parts, as you know. The first test is just to see if there is a bond by looking for the markers in your combined blood sample. Which, yes, there were plenty of markers. In fact, there were more markers than blood in your sample.”

Shane looked at her for a second, then shifted slightly to make sure Ilya’s hand stayed cradling his lower stomach even as he moved to be able to look at her. 

“The result was very quick?”

So he had noticed. She wasn’t sure if he had. 

“Yes. Extremely fast. It took 30 seconds, that's all,  because there were more markers than blood.”

Ilya pulled Shane back into his hold, obviously not happy he had moved more than a few inches away. Then he leaned down and spoke right into the smaller man’s ear, but Gloria still heard it anyway. 

“Standard bond testing is 5 to 8 minutes, Lyubimyy.”

Shane spluttered and looked back at her. 

“Pardon? Ilya, are you lying to me?”

The Russian chuckled, low and deep. 

“Nyet, Lyubimyy, I am not lying to you. Is true; ask Gloria.”

Gloria nodded to confirm what Ilya had said. 

“He isn’t lying, Shane; that is correct. The higher the level of bond, the easier it is to detect, but even with 85% plus, you are looking at an average of 5 minutes to confirm enough markers.”

Shane shook his head in disbelief. 

“So how did ours take only 30 seconds?”

Oh, the poor thing, he really didn’t know anything, did he? Before Gloria could start to explain, Ilya cupped a hand at the back of Shane’s neck and squeezed softly, the tips of his fingers caressing the hinge of his jaw. 

“Calm down.”

Gloria didn't understand the words, but she did the voice, the tone. The deep, rumbling purr of the words was like liquid velvet. It was no wonder that Shane went still, his body lax in the powerful hold until his breathing was calm again. 

Ilya turned back to her without removing his hand from the back of Shane’s neck. His eyes were darker, and his voice was a touch deeper now. 

“The last result?”

She pulled up the image, zoomed in on a copy and then put it next to the full-body one, so it was easy to see the sheer volume of the whiteout and then the close-up of what was actually causing it. 

“This is the still image. As you see here, I have zoomed in because the full image is basically just whitened out.”

Ilya leaned forward and held his hand out. She handed the tablet over. It was locked to Shane’s details anyway until he was discharged. 

 

Gloria watched silently as Ilya studied it, then began to explain it to the man in his arms. He was getting it all correct, so she left him to it. His voice was lovely to listen to, too, a deep rumbling purr that she had never really associated with a Russian accent before hearing Ilya Rozanov speaking to Shane Hollander. 

“We have so many signals that the image looks white; normally, only the points of direct contact would light up like this.”

Shane nuzzled closer and squinted at the tablet. 

“Ilya, only our hands were touching?”

The tablet was handed back to her, and she took it without speaking, not yet anyway. 

“Da. Only our hands. Would have broken the machine if any more of us had been touching, I think.  Means we have a really strong bond, Lyubimyy. Stronger than I have ever heard of.”

Gloria cleared her throat, and they both looked at her again, pulled reluctantly out of their own little world when they seemed to remember that she was still there. 

“Stronger than we have on record. I have requested a copy of the bonded pair that is currently on the register at 96%, but until we get that, I have no comparison to show you that would make any sense. However, for now, Shane, you need to rest. I will be performing a full workup tomorrow, and then we can see about you being discharged, but only if I am satisfied.”

Shane nodded at her. She collected the plates and her tablet as she left them to sleep. The lights dimmed further as she turned the dial down by the door. As she left, Gloria glanced over her shoulder. She could see they had settled down. Ilya was wrapped around Shane’s back; they were pressed together from head to toe. Ilya’s hand was once again clearly visible on Shane’s lower stomach. Shane did look much better, and that was with having to go through the afternoon of testing. 

She would decide tomorrow what to do, but if he continued to improve like this, then the best thing for Shane would be if he was able to be discharged and sent home with Ilya. 

With his chosen Sire. To Boston. 

As secretly as possible. 

At least until all the paperwork she had to submit went through, because this was going to cause major problems when it did come to light. People were either going to want to take Shane for themselves or to try to study the two of them for the phenomenal results their tests had recorded. 

Whichever way this went, it was not going to be easy. The pair certainly had their work cut out for them; that was for damn sure. 

Gloria sighed and headed to her office. She had a night's worth of paperwork to file, and she wanted to chase that scan so she could compare the two before she submitted the results of Shane and Ilya’s. 

It was going to be a long night. She needed coffee. 

And a doughnut. 

Screw her diet. 

Chapter 4: Come home with me?

Chapter Notes

Sorry for the wait on this .. it has smut both at the start and the end.

Let me know what you think :) Enjoy.

Shane was warm. 

It was a very nice feeling after the last few days of being both in pain and cold. The warmth was a very familiar one. He shifted on the bed, even after Gloria had moved him to the much nicer room; the bed was nowhere near as comfortable as either his own or Ilya’s. 

He felt better. Much better, actually. 

As he stretched, careful of the brace on his arm, but even the pain from that had dulled down to a more manageable level now, he wiggled closer into the massive arms of the man curled around him. Ilya was plastered completely against his back, not an inch of space left between them. This bed might have been bigger than a standard hospital bed, but they were not small men, neither of them, and it had been lucky that they automatically slept close anytime they were together. 

Shane felt Ilya tighten his arms around his chest and the hand that was still pressed carefully to the very slight curve of his stomach. It wasn't any more noticeable than before, at least not by sight, but Shane could feel it. 

Ilya’s hand gravitating to that spot wasn’t new; he had always done it, ever since their first time. At least now it made a bit more sense as to why, as well as why Shane had never been able to get the same ripped V-cut that Ilya had. Much to his annoyance, when they had been younger. 

Slowly, Shane laid his own hand on top of Ilya’s. There was a spark of warmth suddenly in his belly. He almost jumped at the strange sensation; it wasn’t bad or painful, just strange. Ilya’s hand flexed slightly under his own, then it moved, dropping lower to rub softly where the muscles were still sore. 

He knew he was making that deep purring noise again, but he really couldn’t help it. Shane closed his eyes and could feel himself relaxing, melting back into the bigger, broader body behind him as Ilya soothed away the worst of the lingering pain. 

Ilya’s voice was still low, deeper even than normal and slightly rough as he was just waking up from sleep, as he murmured softly into Shane’s ear. 

“Are you alright, Lyubimyy?”

Shane shivered at the combination of the hot breath on the back of his sensitive neck and the deep, velvet voice, like warm honey down his spine. 

“Better than I was. The pain is a lot less now. Somehow.”

Ilya pressed soft kisses to his neck, under his ear and lifted up slightly on his arm to capture his mouth. Shane couldn’t help but let out a quiet mewl and respond. As Ilya nudged him over onto his back and settled his heavier weight over Shane’s thighs, he deepened the kiss. Shane opened his mouth and let Ilya lick inside. 

The contact was causing little tingly sparks across his skin; the lingering points of pain were easing, and Shane felt like liquid sunlight was being poured into his very veins. As Ilya drew back and gentled the kiss, Shane slid his good hand into the back of those wonderfully soft curls and dragged him back down with a hiss. 

He wrapped his legs around Ilya’s massive thighs and used his returning strength to hold Ilya to him. Not that Ilya was complaining. In fact, the Russian growled softly at him and nipped at his bottom lip, soothing his tongue over the sting and nuzzling his way down Shane’s throat. 

Shane tilted his head back to give Ilya more room, the pleased purr starting up again as he felt Ilya settle his weight more fully on top of him. Their rapidly hardening cocks rubbed together as Shane tried to arch up into Ilya, only to wince at the pain in his arm. It had eased so much that he had forgotten that he had a fractured collarbone. 

Ilya lifted his head; his full, reddened mouth was slick with saliva, and his darkened blue eyes gleamed as he paused. 

“Get on top of me, Lyubimyy.”

Ilya wrapped his hands around Shane’s waist, large hands steady but firm as he helped Shane to lift up and carefully climb over him to settle in his lap. 

Ilya’s hands slid up and helped to gently remove Shane’s sleep shirt around the brace and sore collarbone. Shane eased himself down so he could feel Ilya’s hard cock pressed against his ass; every tiny movement caused Ilya to rub up against him. 

Shane kneaded at the fabric that was still blocking him from Ilya’s sculpted chest with a quiet hiss, little nicks in the thin fabric giving way under his slowly extending claws. 

Ilya sat up under him; massive arms came up around his back and waist to hold him where his ass was still pressed against the impressive length of Ilya’s cock. 

The Russian dragged off his own clothes with a lot less care than he had given Shane, then he reached into his bag that was on the table next to the bed. 

Shane lowered his mouth to lap at the roll and flex of powerful muscles that stretched with the movement. He shot Ilya a look when he caught sight of what was in his hand, because, of course, he had easily accessible condoms and lube in his bag. 

Those darkened blue eyes gave Shane a sultry, heated look as Ilya slid his hands back around Shane’s waist and downwards. 

He paused to wrap his hands around Shane’s full hips and guide them into a heavy roll back against Ilya’s cock. The movement had them both groaning as the full, thick cock pressed up in between the still-clothed cheeks of Shane’s ass. 

Shane moaned and rolled his hips back again, mouth open and panting softly at the heavy, thick slide even through their sleep pants. 

 

He wanted Ilya to fuck him. 

He needed it, in fact. Something was screaming in his brain, telling him that he would feel better, that it would help. 

It wasn’t like it took much; all Ilya had to do most days was just look at him, and he would fold. Shane was weak, so weak when it came to this man. 

“I need … I need …”

He couldn’t get the words out. 

Ilya was running a lubed finger between his ass cheeks, stroking teasingly over his hole again and again until Shane was shivering and half sobbing with the need for him to do more. 

Ilya growled, deep and rumbling Russian into his throat. 

“Tell me.”

It was a command. One that Shane had no willpower to refuse. 

“Fuck me … please, Ilya… fuck me.”

Shane hadn’t meant to say it in Russian, but it had the desired effect. 

Ilya used his other hand to pull his own pants down and off one leg, not bothering to free the other because that would mean stopping what he was doing. Shane managed to slither out of his own without getting off of Ilya’s lap, for once not bothering to fold them; he was too far gone right now to care. 

Ilya finally gave in and pressed a thick finger inside. 

Shane arched his back and latched onto those massive shoulders to help his balance and ignored the twinge in his shoulder as he felt the steady pressure of Ilya slowly, tortuously stretching him open. It had been a while, and Ilya was not in any way, shape, or form small, but Shane was always able to take him. Had been able to since their very first time.

By the time Shane felt Ilya press his third finger against his red, swollen rim, he was on the brink of tears. Not from pain but from impatience. Ilya had his hip pinned in one huge hand, so all Shane could do was squirm slightly and latch his mouth onto the miles of pale, muscular skin under him. 

Shane sank his teeth into the juncture of Ilya’s neck; the slight bite of pain and pleasure got him a snarl, and Ilya bucked his hips up. Finally, Shane felt the fingers leave him. He whined at the sudden loss, only for them to be replaced by the large, blunt head of Ilya’s cock. 

Shane threw his head back and lifted himself upon powerful thighs as Ilya guided him down, huge hands holding Shane open and his biceps strained at taking all of Shane’s not inconsiderable weight and controlling his descent while Ilya lay under him. 

The stretch burned slightly, even with three fingers opening him up; it was still tight. 

Shane relaxed his muscles; his body knew how to do this after all. Ilya was letting out low, rumbling growls as Shane could see the effort he was putting in to stay still, to let Shane adjust for a moment. When Ilya was pressed all the way in, the heavy, powerful feeling of his hips flush against Shane’s ass had them both moaning. 

Ilya hooked a hand around the back of  Shane’s neck to get him to arch his back in a deep curve. The position caused Ilya to sink in a little deeper, that last little bit to make the angle perfect for pressing Ilya’s thick cock up against every nerve inside Shane. 

“Fuck…”

The word was punched out of Ilya as Shane kissed him, open-mouthed and messy. 

Sharper than normal, teeth bit at each other’s lips as their tongues entwined.

Shane had to rip his mouth away to try and stifle the yowl that was torn out of him when Ilya finally drew his hips back in long, rolling thrusts that pulled almost all the way out and then drove back in deep, hitting Shane's prostate on every stroke. 

Shane clawed at his shoulders, his chest and arms; the new sharp claws left red lines down Ilya’s skin that would still be there days later. Shane managed not to break the skin, but it was all instinct; his brain had whited out from pleasure as his orgasm drew closer. 

Ilya's grip was tight enough that Shane could feel the bruises that were already forming around his hips, even though Ilya was careful to stay away from his stomach. Not that Shane was feeling particularly delicate right now. 

He clenched around the thick length inside of him and felt Ilya shift slightly, his thrusts turning into a heavy, deep pounding as he too was close. 

Teeth latched onto his good shoulder, then to the sensitive spot at the base of his neck. The sharp sting of teeth, combined with Ilya pulling him down hard as his own orgasm neared, sent Shane cascading over the edge. 

The tightening of his body around Ilya’s cock as he shivered and moaned through his orgasm triggered Ilya, too. 

Shane felt a momentary flash of annoyance for some reason at being unable to feel Ilya coming inside of him due to the condom, but it was blanked out as Shane’s vision suddenly became bright gold. 

As Ilya moved his hips, a slow, lazy grind through the aftershocks, as both of them panted into the other's mouth. 

Shane let Ilya take his weight; his body was tired, but even with the exertion he had just gone through, he felt so much better. 

There were still the little flickers of gold at the edges of his vision; they were fading slowly, but they gave the room and especially Ilya a lovely, soft glow. 

Ilya gently rolled them over, so Shane lay on his side. He whined his disappointment at the feeling of Ilya pulling out of him. He tried to wrap his legs around Ilya to stop him, but his thigh was caught in a strong hand, and Ilya rumbled a low chuckle into his hair. 

“Easy, Lyubimyy. You are still injured, remember.”

Shane pouted. 

Which got him kissed again. The press of lips was soft and sweet but lingering, as Ilya seemed unable to pull away just yet, neither of them able to break contact for a moment or even longer. 

Usually, Shane was squirming and wanting to get clean by now, but the feeling of being marked, claimed, was settling the part of his brain that seemed to have been on edge since he was brought into the hospital in the first place. 

Ilya lifted himself carefully up and padded, unashamedly naked, into the little bathroom attached to his room. Shane watched him with hooded, tired eyes that were still edged in gold for some reason, especially whenever he looked at Ilya. 

The warm cloth was welcome as Ilya cleaned him; it wasn’t perfect, but for once, Shane wasn’t too bothered by not showering straight away. 

That low, rumbling purr had started up again as Ilya came back to curl up around him, his body giving off that furnace-like heat that Shane snuggled down into. Ilya wrapped his arms around him, and Shane turned so he could tuck his face into Ilya’s neck. He nuzzled into the slightly damp skin and inhaled the unique scent that only Ilya seemed to have. 

He felt Ilya shift and pull his hips closer, making sure his stomach was pressed gently against Ilya’s own bare skin. In this position, Shane was able to relax again; that newly awakened bit of his hindbrain had settled down, his muscles had lost the tension, and whatever had been clamouring at him had simmered down. 

As long as his stomach was protected either between them or under Ilya’s huge palm, then everything seemed like it was okay. 

Shane pulled the blanket up over them both, the heat radiating from Ilya soon warming everything up. 

The soft rumble of Ilya’s voice into his hair was only just audible, but Shane’s sharper hearing picked it up. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu”

Shane pressed a kiss to the underside of Ilya’s jaw, pressing himself impossibly closer to Ilya’s larger form. 

He whispered the words into heated skin. 

“I love you too.”

A kiss was pressed into his hair as his eyes drifted closed. That deep, rumbling purr started up again, filling the room with the contented noise as they both drifted back to sleep.

 

Hours later, the sound of the door opening had Shane’s eyes snapping open. Xena was paused in the doorway, a tray of what smelled like breakfast in her hands. Shane watched as her lovely skin turned bright pink at the sight of them. 

Only then did Shane remember that they were both still very naked, tangled in his hospital bed with their clothes all over the floor. 

Embarrassment and defensiveness fought for dominance in Shane as he realised the blanket had slipped down to their waists and was exposing the results of earlier. Ilya stirred with a low growl, so low, in fact, Shane felt it more than heard it, but all he did was pull the blanket back up over them and shift Shane so he was tucked more under Ilya’s bigger bulk. 

Xena averted her eyes and skirted around the edge of the room to the table on the other side. She placed the tray down and then hurried back out, making sure to close the door behind herself with a decisive click. 

Shane let out a sigh and dropped his head back onto Ilya’s arm with a groan. 

“For fucks sake.”

This time, Ilya chuckled, and it made Shane smile at the low, pleasant sound.

“It’s not funny, Ilya.”

He thumped Ilya lightly on his chest, but the Russian just laughed more, until Shane threaded his hand into those messy curls and pulled softly. That got Ilya’s attention; those beautiful blue eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made him want to bask under the affection in them. 

“Go get our clean clothes, please.”

Ilya lifted him over slightly, freeing his leg and then paused to kiss him before he went to get some clothes out of Shane’s bag for him. Except Shane watched him as he brought the t-shirt out of his own instead. 

Shane didn't argue.

He let Ilya help him get dressed, then watched as Ilya got dressed, dragging his eyes along the length of his massive Russian. Unashamedly watching the roll and flex of so much muscle. 

 

They ate quickly. It wasn’t anything fancy, similar to what Shane had been given earlier, but it also didn’t upset Shane’s stomach, so he ate it without complaint. Ilya barely noticed and just wolfed it down. He hadn’t eaten nearly as much as he normally would and had used a lot of energy in the past few days. 

As Shane was seeing what basic stretches he could get away with and Ilya was doing a ridiculous amount of push-ups next to him, the door opened, and Gloria stepped inside. She raised an eyebrow at them both but waited till they were both finished. Ilya rolled his shoulders. Shane knew he hadn't done nearly enough, but he was limited by the small room and lack of equipment. 

Ilya reached down to wrap an arm around Shane’s waist and lifted him. Shane didn't really need the help, but he wanted, craved the contact, so he allowed it, knowing that Ilya felt the same. 

He felt Ilya’s large, warm palm as it settled over his lower stomach, the contact easing them both as Gloria gestured them both over. 

“Good morning, both of you. Glad to see you are looking better, Shane. Now I am going to do a full physical and see if we can get you out of here. Are you ready?”

Shane tipped his head back to look up at Ilya. 

They hadn’t discussed what was going to happen when he was discharged yet, and it was leaving Shane with a sick, twisted feeling in his chest that he couldn’t trace. As if he had followed Shane’s train of thought, Ilya leaned down and brushed his lips across Shane’s ear and neck. 

“Come home with me?”

The question was tentative, as if Ilya was worried he would be rejected, but Shane had no intention of doing so. He would much rather go to Boston with Ilya than have to go back to Ottawa with his parents. Honestly, he hadn’t even started to process everything with his mother yet and wasn’t ready. 

“You really want me to, Ilya? It's a risk.”

It was a risk. 

They could be discovered if Shane Hollander was seen living in Ilya Rozanov’s house, never mind when he started showing. This whole thing needed to be planned out, and Shane was feeling well enough for the first time in days that his analytical brain was trying to race steps ahead. 

Ilya rubbed his cheek against Shane’s, then turned Shane in his arms, ignoring Gloria for the moment. He felt the strong hand wrap around his throat, the thumb tip his chin up so he firmly made him look up into those beautiful blue eyes. 

“I will take that risk, Lyubimyy. Even if it was medically recommended, then I would still want to take you home with me. To my city, to my house.”

Shane listened carefully to the Russian words, knowing that Ilya was being his most honest, his most vulnerable when he did so. 

He almost melted at the sweet words; the feeling of relief, of being wanted, was very strong. Shane didn’t resist the impulse to lean up on his toes and kiss Ilya, their mouths soft and warm as now familiar sparks of gold danced along the edges of Shane’s vision. 

He let out a soft moan as Ilya hauled him in close, pressing them flush together, a strong arm wrapped around his waist, and the hand around his throat tightened just enough to send a flash of heat through Shane at the slight feeling of restraint. Ilya nuzzled his mouth on Shane’s, his tongue delving in and teasing his own to join in. 

Shane lifted his good arm into the short hair at the back of Ilya’s neck, winding in and tightening as he pressed up to deepen the kiss. 

Or he would have done. 

Had a sharp, piercing whistle not interrupted them. 

Shane pulled back, but only enough to glance around. Then he blushed. He had forgotten where they were. 

Again. 

That was twice in one morning. He groaned, in embarrassment this time, as he buried his head in Ilya’s chest. Shane could feel the asshole chuckling as the hand around his waist moved to stroke soothingly up his back. 

Obviously, Ilya was not at all embarrassed. Gloria cleared her throat and spoke up. 

“Sorry, boys, but we really need to get this done. Shane, it won't take long.”

Shane pulled himself away from Ilya. It was harder than it had any right to be; breaking their physical contact was like pulling teeth, but he managed it. 

 

Gloria thankfully didn’t try to separate them; she just quickly and efficiently got through the exam.

Shane tried to be as cooperative as possible; he really didn’t want to make Gloria’s job any harder than it already was. After all, dealing with the pair of them for the last couple of days, he did feel a little guilty. Once she had finished, she tapped away on the tablet in her hands and gestured for him to put his clothes back on. Which he was happy to oblige. 

Ilya came forward as soon as Gloria had stepped away. Warm, strong hands helped to put his clothes back on, soothing and stroking down his bare skin as he did. Shane could feel it wasn’t to arouse or to start anything; it was just to affirm that Shane was still okay, that their baby was still okay. 

Shane pressed Ilya’s hand to his lower belly. 

That warm feeling and the golden sparks were back as both of their hands touched his abdomen.

Ilya buried his nose into Shane’s hair; the tension that had gathered in his muscular shoulders leached out as they touched. Shane ran his hand through Ilya’s curls, scratching softly at the back of his neck, leaning his weight into Ilya and pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. 

“I’m okay. We are okay. Relax, Ilya, love.”

It took a couple of minutes, but Ilya did relax and draw back, not letting go, but enough for Shane to guide them to sit back down on the bed and look over to where Gloria was patiently waiting for them. The tablet in her hands was open to a full page of what looked like notes, from what Shane could read upside down anyway. 

Gloria looked at them both, a clear question on her face. 

“Ready now?”

Shane ducked his head; he could feel the blush on his cheeks as he looked at his doctor, even if she had just been a first-hand witness to the state that Ilya had left him in just hours earlier. 

Instead of replying, he just nodded and settled back against Ilya’s chest to listen. He could only hope that he was healed enough to be allowed to leave. He certainly felt much better than even hours earlier. 

“Yes. Sorry Gloria. We are ready now.”

She smiled at him, not seeming to mind at all. In fact, she looked more amused than anything. 

“Try not to worry about it, Shane. This is all pretty normal for a bonded pair that has been through much less than you two have over the last few days. Remember, the stronger the bond, the stronger the surge of manifested instincts you will get. It appears that your bond is mirroring between you as well, which means that it isn’t just you, Shane, who is experiencing the fluctuations. It is Ilya too. Now I have read about it in theory, but until you two, that was all it was believed to be: a theory. To my knowledge, there hasn’t been a pairing that has been compatible enough to mirror before.”

Shane cocked his head to one side. 

He really wished he knew more about all this; he hated not knowing. It was actually making his fingers twitch with the need to research. As if he could once again read Shane’s thoughts, Ilya soothed his hand across the back of his neck and spoke. 

“I do have all the books that were published in this country. Bought them when I first arrived. Will show you when we get home.”

He rubbed Ilya’s thigh softly in thanks as Gloria continued to explain his results. 

“I also have some books I am sending with you; these aren’t available to the public as they are technically what I use to teach from, but they are the most up-to-date information we currently have. I will also collect all the data I have gathered from you while you are here and send it to you, if that is of interest?”

He gave Gloria a grateful smile. It actually was reassuring, since Shane was well aware that online, the information would be patchy at best and downright shite for most of it. Books directly from a specialist like Gloria would be the most accurate information. 

“Yes, please. That would be great.”

She patted his knee gently. Seemingly pleased, he could now allow the touch without either of them being triggered, even if he did feel the momentary tension that Ilya gave behind him, but it didn’t last longer than a breath of a second. 

“Not a problem. Now for your results. I am pleased to say you are in remarkable condition, considering where we were not two days ago. Shane, you are still underweight. I have included a diet plan for you in your discharge package. I want you to follow it, please. Being this underweight isn’t good for you or your baby. I don’t know what the Voyageurs were playing at, but I would like to get my hands on whoever thought what they had you on was healthy.”

Ilya growled, then agreed with Gloria, his voice having dropped that tiny bit lower into the dangerous zone. 

“See, Lyubimyy? Not just me who thinks so.”

It was true. Ilya had been fighting the diet plan ever since Shane had allowed him into his apartment years ago. 

Shane had always been soft when it came to this man and had allowed him to sneak things in and feed him extra things not usually allowed. Ilya had never been subtle or quiet about his dislike for the way the Voyageurs treated Shane. 

Gloria was nodding along with Ilya. 

Shane scowled at them both, but he did wrap an arm around his middle, his own hand settling above Ilya’s where it was resting across his lower belly. He might not have fought it for himself, but there was no way he was letting anything hurt his baby again. 

Gloria was watching them, eyes soft and understanding. 

“The damage is already being reversed, Shane; don’t worry too much. You are fit and strong, and as long as you eat better now, there won’t be any lingering issues with you or your baby.”

Here she looked at Ilya.

“I am guessing someone will be making sure of it now anyway.”

Shane felt Ilya nod over his shoulder in confirmation. Ilya was the better cook out of the two of them anyway, and Shane was more than happy to let him have his way this time. 

“Other than being underweight, the injuries from the accident, which have already healed more than a normal human would, and all the damage from recent strain because of the separation and near miscarriage, have gone. Now, there have been a few recordings of very high-level Carriers healing quickly, as well as those having a very strong bond that have similar capabilities, but we don’t have a threshold for you two yet. So Shane, you will still need to be careful and get checked again in a week or so. Keep the brace on until then, please.”

He felt Ilya rub his hand across the injured shoulder and neck, the touch gentle and warm. Ilya then looked at Gloria. 

“Where do we go to get Shane looked at in a week?”

Shane watched as Gloria looked conflicted for a moment before sighing and writing something down on the tablet. 

“I have given you a referral to a friend of mine in Boston. She isn’t an MCE specialist, but she is very good and very loyal. I will contact her and let her know the basics of the situation for now. As for who will treat you, Shane… That will have to be me.”

Shane was a little stunned. If the confused noise from Ilya behind him was any indication, then so was he. Shane would admit he would much prefer Gloria to continue treating him throughout his pregnancy, but she was here, in Montreal, and he was going back with Ilya to Boston.

It seemed Gloria had read the confusion on their faces because she laughed lightly at them before pressing the call button to summon a nurse; in this case, it was only Xena who answered for security reasons. 

“I will be transferring to the nearest Carrier Ward to your Boston address, Ilya, at least for the duration of Shane's pregnancy. Since we have no idea how long his gestation will be. I would guess not on the longer end of the scale due to your ratings. I am afraid we are really going into a lot of this blind.”

Shane understood and was extremely grateful that Gloria was willing to move her life around for them, even if he did get that it was as much for her own career, too, but she also clearly cared. 

“Thank you.”

She smiled at them both. 

“I would like to see this through with you both, and I would like to think we have built a little trust through all this, yes?”

A shiver went through Shane at the thought of someone else examining him, of touching where his baby lay, safe and protected behind his muscular abdomen. His lip curled up, and he let out a low, raspy hiss of displeasure at the thought. 

Ilya soothed him with his hand, slowly rubbing circles on his lower stomach. He felt the kisses being pressed into his neck and throat as the Russian words washed over him. 

“It’s alright. Gloria is not suggesting anyone else, sweetheart. Calm down now.”

It worked.

Shane was able to wrestle the sudden surge of anger and pull himself back under control. It was getting easier to rein in the flashes of instinct, as Gloria had called them, the more he was getting used to the feelings. 

 

Once Gloria had gone through all his discharge details, Shane had a large stack of books, his printed-out reports of all the data Gloria had found and all the contact information they would need until she could get her transfer organised. 

Ilya had booked them a flight while Gloria had been doing his physical, since he had figured it could be cancelled much easier than booked at even shorter notice. Shane hadn’t exactly got much stuff with him, so the flight time Ilya had chosen had allowed them time to go to his apartment. 

He had pulled a Voyageurs cap over Ilya’s distinctive blond curls and made sure neither of them was wearing any obvious Boston Bears merchandise. Shane just had to hope that no one was looking too closely at them while they got through the airport. 

It didn’t take him long to pack. 

He left Ilya to throw away any fresh food in the fridge while he gathered the things he didn’t want to leave for the duration he was going to be away. 

Honestly, there wasn’t that much. All of his mementoes and more personal things lived at his cottage. The apartment was pretty empty, really. Shane packed all the clothes he cared about, all his skincare products and his notebooks. The important things were his laptop and all his documentation, which he put into his carry-on bag. 

By the time Shane was satisfied, Ilya had also finished, and he had wiped down the kitchen and the fridge, so it was all disinfected. Just like Shane did before he left for his cottage each summer. 

He reached up and kissed Ilya softly in thanks, relishing the feeling of having someone who just got him. There was no need to explain, no need to justify himself; Ilya just quietly understood and accepted it. 

He felt a little guilty about the fact that when his parents came looking for him, they would find his apartment shut down, but he wasn’t feeling all that charitable towards his mother, especially right now. 

The flight that Ilya had booked was as close to private as they could get at such short notice. It was first class and direct, so it didn’t take long for them to touch down in Boston. On the plane, Shane had swapped into one of Ilya’s Bears hoodies, and they had removed the Voyageur cap from the bottom of Shane’s bag. 

In the oversized hoodie, with the black hood pulled up and tucked into Ilya’s side, he wasn’t even looked at. Boston wasn’t as rabid as Montreal when it came to famous athletes; also, no one was looking for Shane Hollander in a Boston Bears hoodie with Ilya Rozanov. 

Fortunately, the airport was quiet; it was pretty late, and Shane was starting to flag. The painkillers were wearing off, as were the effects of whatever had happened in the early hours of this morning, which meant Shane was starting to feel every minute of the last couple of hours of travel. 

Ilya ushered him into a cab. Darkened blue eyes on edge and casting around with a predatory gleam in them, Shane entwined their hands as soon as the cab door was closed. In Russian, he murmured softly into Ilya’s ear. 

“Hey, Hey. Settle down. We are alright. I’m just tired, okay?”

However, the tension didn’t leave Ilya until he had crowded Shane into his house nearly 40 minutes later. The bags were taken out of his hands, and Ilya put both their shoes neatly away. 

Shane let him. 

He was too tired to do much more than put one foot in front of the other now, but he did feel so much better being out of the hospital. A tiny part of him was also glad that no one knew where he was; he had turned off the location on his phone and, for now, was not planning on answering calls for a few days. Not until he could get his head around all this. 

Ilya led him through to the master bedroom. 

He gently stripped them both of their clothes, carefully helped Shane remove the brace and then turned on the shower. As the water heated up to Shane’s preferred temperature, Ilya meticulously laid out all of Shane’s skin care products on the right-hand side of the bathroom cabinets. Just like Shane had them at home. 

Shane caught him around the waist from where he was leaning against the counter. Ilya came willingly, letting Shane pull him in between his spread thighs. 

“Have you memorised the layout of my apartment, Ilya?”

There was a low rumbling chuckle as Ilya leaned down to kiss him, slotting their mouths together in a deep, heated kiss that had Shane arching his back to press his chest up against Ilya’s bare skin. 

“I remember every little thing about you, Lyubimyy.”

With a roll of powerful shoulders, Ilya had hooked his hands under Shane’s thighs and lifted him in one smooth motion until he was seated on the counter with Ilya pressed in between his legs. 

Shane automatically wrapped his legs around that trim waist and moaned as the movement brought their hardening cocks together. 

Ilya had his hand around Shane’s neck, his thumb pressing inside the corner of his mouth as lips devoured him. The pressure of Ilya’s finger was forcing Shane to keep his mouth parted as Ilya thrust his tongue inside, and all Shane could do was cling to his muscular shoulders and trust Ilya to hold him up. 

Ilya set a heavy, rolling pace as he dropped a hand to gather both of their cocks in his massive palm. The heat, the slick friction of Ilya’s hand on both of them, didn’t take long to have Shane almost on the edge of coming. 

When Ilya slowed his movements, Shane hissed at him, but he was silenced with the hand that tightened around his throat and applied pressure. 

“Nyet. You’re not coming until I tell you.”

Shane keened, needy and desperate but also obeying, because he always did. 

Ilya lifted Shane again. This time, he was carried into the shower, then Ilya pressed him back into the slick, heated tiles and took them both in hand again. 

Teeth bit at his neck, across his swollen nipples until Shane was scrabbling at the back of Ilya’s neck, hand gripping wet curls, not sure if he wanted to press Ilya’s mouth closer or pull him away. 

He was so close. 

Shane dropped his head back onto the tile and mewled as Ilya sucked on his nipple. The hand around both of their rigid cocks sped up in time with the tightening of the mouth around the sensitive nub in Ilya’s hot mouth. 

The feeling of Ilya dragging his hand across his twitching hole was all it took to drive Shane over the edge. He was writhing against the heavy body and hot mouth still holding him down against the tiles as his cock spurted his release over both of them. 

The warm water washed it away as Ilya turned him to press his still swollen cock between his ass cheeks to thrust into the wet, slick channel there. 

Shane was shuddering and moaning at the oversensitized feeling that Ilya’s cock catching on his rim was sending through his tired body as the Russian fucked his ass cheeks with a strong, rolling grind of his hips until he was growling into Shane’s back and coming all over him.  

“Fuck… look at you, sweetheart.”

By now, Shane was pretty much limp in Ilya’s arms as the bigger man carefully got them both cleaned off and dry. 

Shane felt the huge hands rubbing softly at his sensitive skin with the softest towel he had ever felt. He was just about able to keep his eyes open long enough to brush his teeth and let Ilya ease him into one of his oversized Bears shirts. 

It was so very soft and smelled like Ilya’s detergent. 

He was suddenly swept up into strong arms and carried to the massive, freshly made bed. Ilya settled him right in the centre, then moved to plug both their phones in to charge and turn the lights off. 

It was only a minute or two, but Shane was reaching for Ilya even as he climbed carefully into the bed behind him. Ilya wrapped himself around Shane, tangling their legs together and settling so his palm was cradling Shane’s lower belly. 

They both relaxed once they were skin to skin again. Shane only had the large T-shirt on, and Ilya had sleep pants but nothing more. It meant Ilya had free access to his stomach, and Shane could feel all the furnace-level heat that Ilya gave off. 

Shane felt Ilya press soft kisses to his shoulder and murmur quietly in Russian. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

Gold flickered at the edge of his vision again as he wrapped his arm over the one Ilya had around his stomach and murmured back, taking care to make sure he got the words just right. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

He would remember to ask Ilya in the morning if he could see the strange gold flickering lights, but he was already asleep when the thought occurred to him. Glowing gold was still visible as Shane closed his eyes and drifted off. 

Chapter 5: Boston Nest

Chapter Notes

I am sorry for the long wait. Work has been hell this week, but hopefully this will make up for it. Lots of smut here, if you have read my other one, Some Secrets Won't be Kept, then please note this is worse than chapter 38...

Read carefully, there is a lot of bonding information sprinkled in, and please let me know what you think. Enjoy.

 

Ilya was woken by that beautiful purring sound, rumbling deep through Shane’s chest as his pretty Canadian slumbered in his arms. It seemed like Shane could produce the sound even when he was asleep, not only when awake. 

There was a lot Ilya didn’t know, even though he apparently was the one with more information, at least more than Shane. They would need to talk soon, but for now, Ilya had to focus on getting his bond mate settled. 

They were bonded. 

Shane had chosen him. It was an intoxicating feeling. The wanting, the long-buried dream. 

It was something Ilya thought he had successfully smothered down in the depths of his soul with the death of his Mama, but of course, all it had taken was one look at a pretty Canadian with a gorgeous constellation of freckles and big, brown doe eyes. 

Ilya stroked his hand across the smooth, silky skin on the lower part of Shane’s stomach. There had always been a softness, a slight curve here, even when they had first touched each other. He had been drawn to it from day one. Shane was so very sensitive, so responsive to his touch that he hadn’t thought about it. 

Thinking about it now, Ilya should have been suspicious back then. Shane had taken him so fucking well during their first time, better than most women had and certainly better than any man he had been with. His teenage self had just thought that he had hit the proverbial jackpot of sex. An extremely pretty, smoking hot body with curves he could hold onto without fear of hurting, perfectly, naturally submissive, and those damn freckles. His cock would have cried in joy if it could. 

It should have sparked something back then. Fuck. Ilya had been fresh from dealing with Sasha then; he knew all the signs but had ignored them. He had ignored them because Shane had looked at him with those beautiful chocolate eyes, with tears clinging to the impossibly long lashes and lips that were carved by angels, as well as an ass that Ilya had wanted to bury his face in and never come back out. Still did, actually. 

Ilya could just catch those brief flickers of golden light around them. The flecks were stronger around where his arm was wrapped around Shane’s stomach. It looked like sparks were dancing in between his fingers where his palm was cupping the slight swell of Shane’s lower belly. The skin was warmed from their combined heat and glittering in the morning light that was filtering through the blinds. 

The light cast Shane in an ethereal glow. Soft and pretty. The golden colour made Shane’s skin look flushed with health, and the sparks made his onyx strands gleam where they were spread across the pillow. He looked better. Not just slightly better; in fact, if Ilya didn’t think he was injured, then he wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him right now. 

The bruises had faded, the sickly pallor to his skin was gone, and the dark smudges under his eyes had eased. 

Ilya was aware to some extent that this was the bond, but he didn't know everything. He would have to dig out the books and articles that Gloria had sent with them. She had said some were translated online, so that would be his first place to look. Medical jargon was difficult in English, but then again, maybe Shane could translate; Ilya wasn’t sure just how good his Russian was. Shane did nothing by halves, and to Shane, anything under a perfect mastery was just not good enough. 

From what Ilya could guess from his previous knowledge, though, the golden light was the physical manifestation of the bond. Since it seemed to be concentrated around where Shane was injured, Ilya suspected it was helping to speed up his recovery. After all, this was one of the main reasons high-level Carriers were so sought after; they were stronger than average humans; they healed faster, and the children they birthed had these traits too. 

However, the fact that he could see the manifestation too meant their bond was filtering across to him. Shane might well be powerful enough to open it up to share abilities. Ilya had come across that theory back in Russia, but it had never been proven; before them, no one had ever recorded a bond of such strength.

Then again, no one had a bond like theirs. Gloria had said so. They measured higher than any data known so far. That meant no one really knew the extent of what could happen. 

Ilya would have to keep a close eye on Shane. His pretty Canadian would work himself up into a frenzy if he didn’t get to sort all this information out in his head soon. 

 

The purring stuttered to a stop. 

Ilya looked down and found Shane was stirring slightly. A tiny furrow had begun to appear between those sculpted eyebrows, and a frown had pulled at that lush mouth. He rubbed soothing circles into Shane’s belly; some of the rising tension eased at once, but it looked like Shane was still waking up. A tiny, pathetic little mewl escaped as Ilya leaned down to press a kiss to that silky hair. 

“It’s okay, Lyubimyy. You are safe here. Open those pretty eyes for me now.”

Shane hissed softly. Trying to both snuggle closer and stretch at the same time. 

Ilya caught the wince as the movement pulled at the obviously still sore shoulder and collarbone. 

Ilya adjusted his hold so he could cradle Shane closer and let his injured arm rest across his shoulder and up above onto the pillow. The position caused Shane to relax a little and let out a sigh of relief. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Sleepy chocolate eyes opened. 

Ilya was pleased to see that there was no sign of distress or panic as Shane registered where he was. Instead, a strong hand was wrapped around Ilya’s shoulders and into his hair. 

Shane’s fingers were deft and sure as they carded through his curls; Ilya felt his eyes drift shut as Shane slowly, carefully worked his way through the tangles that had formed in the night. 

“Better.”

Shane’s voice was a raspy purr from sleep, and it sent tremors of desire up Ilya’s spine. His thumb moved in a slow, circular pattern across the soft curve of Shane’s belly. It was an automatic motion now, soothing for both of them. He watched as those golden sparks happily followed in the wake of his movement. 

“Can you see them too?”

Ilya looked up from where he had been absorbed in watching the little dancing gold skitter across Shane’s glowing skin, only to find Shane was watching too. Ilya stilled his hand, both of them tracking the stilling of the sparkles. 

“Da. It’s the bond. I read a few articles on the theory back in Russia; I need to find them and look.”

As Shane shifted to lie more on top of Ilya, he happily slid his hands around those plush hips to help him balance. Hyper aware of the still-injured collarbone, the warm weight of Shane in his hands had his blood heating in his veins, the flow heading south to his cock. He was flexing his fingers around the handful of hips and ass when Shane settled his weight back onto Ilya’s lap. 

“Can that be later?”

He sounded almost shy. Ilya tilted his head to one side and considered that his pretty Canadian, Shane, was not normally hesitant like this. Slowly, he gathered that glorious ass in both of his palms, needing both to get the full feel of the muscular roundness. 

As he kneaded the globes of muscle, he could see that Shane’s cock was already taking interest. 

The vision of Shane wearing his larger, looser T-shirt meant Ilya had a beautiful view of the way Shane’s rapidly hardening cock was making an obscene tent in the material. 

Ilya gleefully hooked his hands around those huge, thick thighs and firmly pulled Shane forward. 

“Come here, Lyubimyy.”

He coaxed Shane with his hands to move up his chest, helping to support his weight with the powerful grip he had on the back of those lovely, plush thighs. As he looked up and caught those wide, glistening chocolate eyes, he groaned quietly at the sight of those beautiful freckles that were now standing out against the rose petal blush staining those cheekbones. 

“That’s it. Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Without meaning to, Ilya switched to Russian. He had always slipped back into his native tongue when he was in bed with Shane, but it was even more arousing now that he knew Shane actually understood what he was saying. 

Shane’s obedience was both glorious and devastating. 

With reluctance, Ilya eased his t-shirt up and over Shane’s head. As much as he enjoyed the idea of fucking his pretty Canadian in his clothes, in his bed, right now, he wanted to look. He wanted to touch every inch of Shane’s skin, wanted to take his time and feel, to drink in every whimper that escaped those full lips as Ilya pushed him over the edge. 

He quickly lifted his own hips and shimmied out of his loose sleep pants. His own cock was already filling out and lay heavy against his abs. As he settled back down, Ilya eased Shane’s weight down onto his chest. He stroked his hands up the tanned skin of each thigh, sinking his fingers into the ample muscle as he traced each silvery stretch mark etched into the skin. 

Ilya had watched Shane grow over the years. They had only been 17, after all, stumbling around each other like newborn fawns. Neither had been quite sure if they had been heading into bliss or ruin. 

He had mapped every mark; he knew every muscle on Shane’s body as well as his own. 

He felt Shane shiver as he traced those beautiful stripes all the way up his thighs and back to that perfect ass. Here, Ilya was a little spoilt for choice. He wanted it all; he wanted Shane’s lovely cock in his mouth; he wanted to open him up with only his mouth, then fuck him until Shane was so blissed out he couldn’t remember his own name.

Honestly, he wanted to bury his face between those glorious cheeks until Shane's tears glistened at the edges of those long, sooty lashes, and his mate was begging to be taken.  

As Ilya guided him higher, he swiped a finger across the wetness that was starting to gather at the head of Shane’s swollen cock. He dipped the very tip of a single finger into the slit and watched as Shane’s hips jerked and a steady trickle of precome coated his skin. Instead of touching his cock however, Ilya gathered the liquid to spread between two of his fingers. Then he dragged them down the hard length, paused to roll his perfectly sized balls in one palm as he moved back to rub Shane’s own precome around his rim. 

Shane’s head dropped back with a mewl, exposing the long column of his throat and making Ilya growl in response. 

He rubbed one finger along the twitching muscle, teasing with just enough pressure to be felt but not enough to give Shane anything from it. 

Ilya had to tighten his hold on Shane’s hip to keep him still as he was trying to push back into Ilya’s hold, trying to encourage him to do something, but Ilya was taking his time.  

“Easy. Just feel. There is no rush, not this time. Let me see you.”

Shane whined and dug his hands into Ilya’s thighs, the now much sharper claws pricking against his skin. Ilya liked the slight sharpness of the pain. It sent heat straight to his own cock, which was fully hard by now and pressed between them.  

“Ilya…Please…”

He couldn't look up. 

If he did, he would break, and he wanted to enjoy this. For once, he was not chasing the clock or stealing moments in a hospital bed. 

Instead, he lifted Shane higher and tried to get him to brace his thighs on either side of Ilya’s head. Shane made a soft, confused little sound and tried to move back down, but Ilya clamped his hands around Shane’s hips and growled. 

It was not a playful sound. In fact, it was deeper, rougher, and not a sound he had made before. 

“Don’t move.”

Shane stilled instantly. 

Gold flickered in his eyes, and his lips pulled back in a slight snarl, but he didn't move. 

Ilya pulled. Shane followed. 

Slowly but steadily, Ilya lowered Shane, so he was sitting over his face, those powerful thighs bracketing his head in a wonderful press of heated muscle. As Ilya helped steady his mate on top of him, he let out a rumbling purr of his own and licked a broad stripe along the length of Shane’s ass. 

He spread his hands across the full, round globes of Shane’s ass and spread the cheeks open to give himself more room to work. With slow, long strokes of his tongue, Ilya lapped at the swollen rim. Shane was half moaning, half keening as he fought to stay still, as Ilya hadn’t told him he was allowed to move; he could feel the tension in those massive thighs as they quivered around his head with the effort. 

Ilya took a little bit of pity on his mate and pulled back just enough to speak. 

“You can move, Lyubimyy, let your weight down on me now.”

Shane made a noise of protest and still didn’t drop down that last little bit. 

“Ilya, I can’t. I will crush you.”

That made Ilya almost laugh. 

Shane was nowhere near heavy enough to crush him, even when he was perfectly healthy. Not that his mate was small because he wasn't, but Shane was all muscle and nothing else. That ridiculous fucking diet kept him on the edge of being too lean.  

“Nyet. You will not. Tiny, pretty Canadians cannot crush massive Russians, Lyubimyy.”

Finally, Shane let Ilya lower him so he was fully sitting on him. Ilya eagerly returned to lavishing his swollen, pink hole with attention. 

 

As he teased and licked, Ilya felt Shane grab onto the head of the bed with his good arm, both for balance and something to hold on to. Then there was the delicious tightening of those huge thighs around his head and neck every time Ilya nipped at a sensitive spot. There were so many. He had left a trail of already darkening bruises across Shane’s ass.  

Ilya could feel the wetness from Shane’s cock dripping down the hardened length to mix with his saliva that was soaking Shane’s softening rim. The ring of muscle had relaxed at his attentions and easily allowed him to burrow deeper and drive his tongue in as deeply as he could.

The yowl Shane let out made Ilya groan. He had to let go of Shane for a moment to wrap a hasty hand around the base of his own cock to fight down the edge of his arousal. 

He could feel Shane spasming around his tongue; he was so close. Once he was sure he had control over himself, he reached back up to get his hand around one of Shane’s perfect tits. The nipples were hard and slightly swollen under his palm. All it took was Ilya squeezing the ample muscle and rubbing his wet fingers across the nub. He rolled it under his palm at the same time as he pressed two fingers deep inside Shane’s hole. The stretch would be tight but not painful after how open his mate was from his mouth. 

Shane moaned loudly, with his head thrown back as he crested over the edge into his orgasm. 

“That's it. Come for me. Fuck.”

The words were dragged out of Ilya’s throat as he watched from under the most perfect image he had ever seen. Shane was shivering, his weight being held by his powerful but trembling thighs, and Ilya’s own strength as he came all over both of them.  

Ilya was panting, not from exertion but from the control it was costing him to lie still, to let Shane come down a little before he started up again. His mate was still injured, and Ilya couldn’t yet flip him over and make it so he couldn’t walk tomorrow. 

Carefully, he shifted Shane slightly, not off him but just down a little bit so he could lap at the mess Shane had made of himself, each swipe of his tongue leaving damp skin in its wake. Ilya lapped at the sensitive lines up the inside of Shane’s thighs and up the spent cock. The weight was warm and heavy in his mouth as he swirled his tongue around the head and down the underside. 

He let Shane's cock rest in his mouth for a moment, relaxing his throat and taking him all the way down to the root while he was still half soft. 

As he gently worked the already hardening cock in his mouth, he went back to moving the fingers still in Shane’s ass. 

As he worked, he reached up to gather the mixture of come and saliva he hadn’t quite gotten to and slicked the rest of it around the now greedily twitching hole. Shane was trying to both press back onto his fingers and arch into Ilya’s mouth, but Ilya had him trapped. He could only move a little; from the whines and moans now spilling out of those plush lips, Ilya knew he was nearly ready. He was also pushing his own limit of control. 

Two fingers would leave Shane feeling the stretch tomorrow, but something in Ilya needed that; he needed to know that when he had to go to practice tomorrow, when he had to leave Shane’s side, his mate would feel him every time he moved. 

He was also well aware that Shane liked to feel the reminders of what he had done to him; his perfect mate liked to press on the marks, the bruises that Ilya was allowed to leave on him for days after they parted. 

This time, they didn’t have to, but Ilya couldn't help it. Golden flickers were dancing around them both as Ilya eased Shane’s now hard cock out of his mouth and wrapped his arms around Shane’s waist to flip them. Careful of both his injuries and his belly. Not that Shane was delicate. Ilya knew better than most that a high-level Carrier, even when pregnant, was stronger than multiple men, but his mate had gone through a lot the last couple of weeks and was still recovering. From the increase of golden sparks, though, the bond was happy with Ilya’s plan, so he eased himself between Shane’s legs. 

Those thighs parted for him automatically as Ilya eased Shane’s legs over his shoulders. He paused to press kisses to each calf and up the inside of a quivering thigh. 

He couldn’t resist sinking his teeth into where creamy skin met bone. Shane groaned and threw an arm up over his eyes. 

“Please… Ilya… Please.”

Tears gathered at the corner of almost completely golden eyes. 

The bond was fully active and awake. Ilya could see that Shane was so gone by the look on his devastatingly pretty face, but he liked the way Shane was bathed in a golden glow; he liked the way it made his flawless skin light up. 

He pulled a pillow down and slotted it under Shane’s hips, helping to lift him at a better angle, well aware he would be sore and tired. Ilya lined his heavy, rock-hard cock up with Shane’s beautifully twitching hole and sank inside. He rolled his hips in a deep, powerful thrust until he was flush against Shane’s ass. 

Ilya could feel Shane stretching around his cock, he could feel the softened muscles giving way to him as he let out a low growl. He leaned down to kiss Shane. He sucked that full bottom lip into his mouth and ran his tongue along the seam, delving in when Shane mewled and opened for him. Ilya kept kissing him, kept drinking down every little noise Shane made as he pulled his hips back and started to thrust with intent. 

It wouldn’t take much. Ilya was on the edge already; he was holding on to the threads of his control by the knowledge that he didn’t want to hurt his mate. He adjusted the angle, and his next thrust hit Shane’s prostate dead on. 

The moan, the instant tightening of Shane’s body around his cock had him giving in a little and speeding up. Ilya snapped his hips back and thrust hard into his mate. 

He could feel those claws digging into his back and shoulders, hard enough that he knew there would be blood, but the slight pain just heightened his own pleasure as it meant that Shane was so far gone he had forgotten about them. 

The feeling of Shane writhing, moaning, and his ass clenching tightly down on Ilya as he crested over into his second orgasm was enough; it pulled Ilya down off the edge of the cliff right with his mate. 

 Ilya groaned, low and rough, as gold exploded behind his eyes as they came together, Ilya burying himself as deep as he could go, balls pressed tight against that plush ass as he coated Shane’s insides with copious amounts of his own come, marking him, claiming him. 

 

Careful not to land on Shane’s injured side, Ilya dropped to the bed, half on top of his mate, and both of their chests heaving as they fought to calm down. Ilya felt Shane’s hands come up to stroke over his sweaty shoulders and down his back. He closed his eyes and relaxed, going boneless at the touch and Shane’s gentle kisses to the stretch of skin under his jaw and throat. 

“Alright, sweetheart?”

Shane made a soft, sweet mew-like noise and nudged his head under Ilya’s. The noise was very cute, and Ilya hadn’t heard it before. 

“Yes.”

Ilya turned his head into Shane’s neck and kissed the damp skin, peppering little open-mouth kisses along his shoulder and up to his ear. Slowly, he eased out, Shane making a small, disgruntled snuffle into his hair. 

They would need to shower, so Ilya left Shane lying where he was, too tired to move, while he padded to the bathroom and turned the shower on. The water heated quickly. Ilya had a very expensive shower system installed when he bought the house. If he had been thinking of a certain pretty, black-haired Canadian when he did so, well, that was his secret.    

Shane hadn’t moved by the time Ilya was happy with the temperature and had found one of his softest towels to set out on the warming rack to wrap his mate up in once they were done. 

He leaned down, nuzzled their lips in a soft kiss, and then carefully lifted Shane into his arms. Shane made a low, sleepy noise but allowed the gentle manhandling as he was helped into the shower, and Ilya set about getting him clean. He was wary of the injured collarbone, but Shane barely seemed to register that it was still injured when Ilya ran his soaped-up hands across those muscular shoulders and down his chest. 

“Not hurting, Lyubimyy?”

Shane shook his head and rolled his bad shoulder, eyes clearing a little as he slowly came back up from his orgasm-induced haze. 

“No. I had actually forgotten about it. Honestly, it feels more like it's a week-old injury.”

From what Ilya had dug up years ago back in Russia, that would actually track. Some bonds could speed up healing, not all of them, but Ilya would guess that theirs was definitely strong enough to help speed the healing process along. The sheer volume of golden sparks around them told him as much. 

“That's the bond. The light, the sparks, are when it's active.”

Shane smiled up at him, nuzzling against his chest as Ilya washed the last of the soap off them. More of those sparks were fizzling out under the steady stream of steam and water. 

Ilya half lifted, half helped Shane out of the shower once he was satisfied they were both clean. He wrapped him in the ready and waiting warm towel and carefully dried him off. 

“My clothes or yours, Lyubimyy?”

Shane didn't even hesitate before reaching out to brush his hand across Ilya’s cheek and cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and relishing the contact, pleased that Shane was reaching for him just as much as he was for Shane, both of them obviously feeling the effects of the pleased bond still thrumming through them in the afterglow. 

“Yours, please, love.”

Ilya went to collect something that Shane would be comfortable in, as well as the brace Shane was meant to wear during the day, even though he knew that it would take a little bit of creative persuasion to get him to wear it, especially if Shane was not feeling the pain as much. 

Sorting quickly through his closet, he found one of his softest sweaters that wouldn’t make Shane too hot. With their height difference being as much as it was, he dug around for a pair of his older sweats, worn to butter softness with use and age but short enough that Shane wouldn’t trip over them every time he moved. 

Shane was leaning up against the counter, going through his morning skin care routine - quicker than his nighttime one but still far more than Ilya ever bothered with; then again, Ilya didn’t have Shane’s iridescently flawless skin - he paused in the doorway to just watch, knowing that Shane had seen his reflection in the mirror by the softened look in those chocolate eyes. The irises still ringed with a deep gold band. 

“Hey.”

Ilya smiled. It was a sappy thing; he could feel it. The kind of smile that only Shane ever got from him; it hid nothing, all his feelings clear and open for once. It felt good to be able to let it out, to not have to work so fucking hard to keep his face locked down every time he looked at this man. 

He placed the clothes on the top of the laundry basket and went to Shane. He snaked his hands around that pretty waist and massaged softly at the fresh bruises already blooming on those plush hips. Ilya brushed a feather-light kiss to Shane’s shoulder and neck as he felt the smaller man lean his weight back into his hold, trusting him to hold him steady.  

“Lyubimyy, I think your skin is even smoother than normal.”

Shane tipped his head back onto Ilya’s shoulder as he patiently finished rubbing the last of the cream into the sharp cut line under his jaw and neck. Ilya’s eyes tracked the tilt and the stretch in that delectable throat as Shane swallowed at the heat already darkening blue eyes in the mirror. 

“Probably a side effect; doesn't that happen with women too?”

Ilya splayed his hand across the tiny curve of Shane’s belly, golden sparks following his movement as Shane’s eyes widened slightly at something. 

“Da. Okay? What are you feeling?”

Ilya knew by the look on Shane’s face that it wasn’t bad; whatever it was had just startled his pretty Canadian. 

“Every time you touch my stomach, I get a weird feeling, like your hand causes my belly to warm from the inside.”

He let out a low, pleased rumble. 

“Da. This is a good thing. Means the bond is settling, and the baby is happy.”

Shane tilted his head back further and dropped his own hand down to join Ilya’s, the tanner shade of his skin glittering with the sheer amount of gold that suddenly appeared when his palm slid across the back of Ilya’s larger hand. 

“See. More is good, Lyubimyy.”

 

Ilya had an early afternoon practice which he would have to go to, even though he really didn’t want to leave his bondmate. From the way Shane stayed close, tucked himself against his side, and the almost silent snick sound of his claws that were periodically sheathing and unsheathing was very telling. 

He moved easily around the kitchen. Shane needed to eat, and it wasn’t difficult to keep his arm wrapped around that pretty waist. 

He also slipped Shane little bits of the food while he was making it, tiny morsels of cheese, a slice of the smoked ham he was using to make the toasted sandwiches, even if he did have to control himself when Shane softly kitten-licked his fingers when he delicately took the offerings. 

Part of the diet plan Gloria had given them was to include things a bit more substantial than Shane’s usual diet. Ilya knew Shane wouldn’t be too happy about it, but for now, his pretty Canadian seemed to be content enough to accept whatever Ilya was making. 

He would set up a grocery delivery as soon as they had eaten. If he kept close to what Shane would usually eat, then he could maybe add a few things that hopefully wouldn't cause any upset. Since Shane had mentioned his stomach had been sensitive near the beginning, but how much of that was the illness and how much had been the early signs of the baby, Ilya wasn’t sure. 

As he was eating, Ilya tugged Shane to sit across his lap, watching him. Ilya could see that Shane was only taking half-hearted, tiny little bites, barely nibbling at the sandwich, but he also wasn’t pulling that cute little scrunched-up face, which Ilya knew meant he didn’t like it. Instead, he was pressing closer into Ilya’s chest and trying to nuzzle in rather than eat, which worried him. Shane was already underweight, and not eating was going to be a problem for both Shane and the baby.  

“What’s wrong, Lyubimyy? Do you feel like you might be sick?”

Shane shook his head and curled tighter into Ilya. 

He soothed a hand down his back and cupped the back of Shane’s neck in his palm, applying steady but gentle pressure until those chocolate eyes looked up at him. 

Gold. 

There was a thick band of gold around Shane’s pupils; this was the bond influencing Shane’s behaviour. 

He looked almost drunk, eyes hazy and slightly out of it. This was not something that Ilya had come across before, but he could take an educated guess. 

In the aftermath of the bond surging when they had climaxed together, it then sparked up again in the bathroom, as well as the high possibility that it had been healing Shane overnight; it was no wonder the aftereffects and the comedown were causing a few instinct manifestations. 

The mirroring of their bond was doing its job, though, because Ilya knew what was needed, knew exactly how to coax his mate to eat, even though it wasn’t something he had tried with Shane before. It wouldn’t work the way they were sitting right now, so he adjusted his hold and stood. 

Shane was held securely in his arms as he carried his mate to the sofa. He had to wait a moment until he could pry Shane’s hands from around his neck, his mate only begrudgingly allowing it because Ilya leaned down to kiss him. 

He tenderly nuzzled his mouth against Shane’s soft lips, that purr vibrating into the air as Shane relaxed under his touch. 

He was able to dart back to the table and collect their glasses and his plate, not bothering with Shane’s just yet, before the purring stopped. With his foot, he hooked it around the leg, and he pulled the coffee table closer to deposit the precariously balanced plate before he dropped something.      

Ilya sat in the corner, making sure his back was braced and comfortable, then he stretched his leg out across the length of the cushions and pulled Shane down to sit with his back to Ilya’s chest. So Ilya was taking his weight, but they were still upright, so Shane could eat.  

Carefully, Ilya balanced the plate where he could reach and picked up the bite-sized piece between his fingers. He wrapped his other arm around Shane’s stomach and snaked it under the oversized sweater to settle his palm against the warm, bare curve of Shane’s lower belly. Sitting like this, there was a noticeable softness to the muscle that only Ilya would notice, but it was there. 

The purring got louder. 

He lifted the morsel to Shane’s lips and murmured into his hair. 

“Come on, Lyubimyy, I need you to eat for me.” 

His voice had dropped to a growl, and Shane was now pliant in his arms as he delicately obeyed; sharp white teeth nipped the piece out of his fingers, only to be followed by a swipe of that hot tongue down the length of his fingers. 

Ilya shivered. Oh, fuck, this was going to be torture, wasn't it? 

Shane squirmed back so his full, round ass was pressed right against Ilya’s already interested cock. Ilya groaned and dropped his head to rest on top of Shane’s familiar-scented hair.

He pressed down on Shane’s belly, stilling the movement of that ass and hips against his cock. Ilya bit none too gently at Shane’s neck and held him still for a moment. 

“Nyet. You need to eat first.” 

Gold flickered at the edges of his vision. Ilya suspected his own eyes had gold around the pupils now, too. It seemed like they were both channelling the bond, but for different reasons at the moment. English was hard to find, and his voice definitely had more of a husky growl to it than normal, which would have been interesting had Shane not learned Russian. 

Another piece of the sandwich was nipped out of his fingers, sharp canine teeth scraping against the pad of his finger as Shane wrapped his lips around the tip and darted his tongue down the length to lick up any escaped crumbs. 

Ilya kept a tight grip on Shane as he fed him; the strength of his splayed palm across where their baby was nestled was bathed in gold as sparks tingled around his vision, the only thing stopping Shane from rubbing his ass back into Ilya’s now hard cock. Shane was hard, too. Ilya could feel the length of it against the back of his hand. 

He forced himself to feed Shane another piece. He was quite happy to eat as long as Ilya was feeding him, but those beautiful chocolate eyes were still more gold than brown, so Ilya knew this was still the comedown. How long would it last, now that Ilya had no idea… He really would have to leave, even though he really didn't want to. 

 

By the time he had managed to get the whole sandwich into Shane, the purr had started back up, and Shane was languidly rolling his hips back into Ilya’s. 

No longer caring about the mess, he shoved the plate somewhere in the vicinity of the table and wrapped his hand around Shane’s throat in the same blink. He tilted Shane’s head back and crashed their mouths together. This was neither soft nor gentle. 

Ilya held Shane’s head still by the grip around his jaw and throat. He forced those plush lips open and bullied his tongue inside. Shane yielded to him instantly, that purr taking on a different note as Ilya finally allowed his own hips to move. He held Shane tight against the heavy, heated length of his cock.

“Do you want?”

Shane dug his fingers into Ilya’s thighs, the pinprick of his claws nicking skin, and Ilya felt him bite at the underside of his neck, the sharp sting of teeth almost breaking skin, sending a frisson of desire licking up his spine. 

“Yes.”

He knew Shane could take it; Ilya had in the past taken him multiple times, and a lot rougher and closer together since they were often pressed for time and trying to get as much of each other as possible before one had to leave.  

Shane decided for himself in the end. Before Ilya could, Shane had shimmied out of his sweater, draping it neatly over the back of the sofa and sliding his sweats down those sculpted thighs. The fresh bruises and marks stood out against the glowing tan skin as Shane unshamedly began to paw at Ilya’s clothes, his clearly hard and aching cock already shiny with drops of liquid leaking from the tip. 

Ilya was quick to get with the plan, considering he was just as hard and his clothes were very much in danger from the now extended claws. Gold shimmered in those chocolate eyes as Shane seemed to retract the new, sharp appendages to wrap his hands around Ilya’s cheeks and up into his hair. Ilya let Shane kiss him, hot and needy as he nipped and pulled at Ilya’s bottom lip before sucking his tongue into his own mouth like it was his cock. 

Ilya groaned, the sensations making him even harder, as he yanked the coffee table drawer open to find the lube he had stashed in there. He went to pick up a condom, but the vicious hiss he got made him drop it back into the drawer sharpish. Not that he wanted to use one, but it was always Shane’s choice; it was his bondmate that was bothered by the mess, although it was a lot less these days. 

Gold glittered around them both as Ilya manhandled Shane off his lap and put a hand around the back of his neck, where he had been sitting a pile of soft, comfy pillows against the arm. He pulled the larger one over the harder surface of the arm and, using the hand, clamped around the base of Shane’s neck. He pushed him down; the resulting arch had him bent over the arm, and his ass presented perfectly. 

Ilya growled at the sight. 

Shane’s hole was still reddened, slightly swollen and already twitching, silently trying to urge Ilya on faster. 

“This okay, Lyubimyy?”

He had to check, even if he knew Shane would tell him if he was uncomfortable; they had a safe word for a reason, and Ilya had drummed into Shane years ago how important it was to use it. After Vegas. 

Shane snarled at him, widening his stance and arching his back deeper, the pillows perfectly cradling his belly safely. Ilya knew Shane was at no risk, especially from this, but he was still half thinking of a normal-level Carrier. 

It would take time for the reality of Shane’s level to really sink in, even more so with the state Shane had been in not so long ago.

Although that had been extenuating circumstances, and had Shane not been suffering from both their separation and the risk to his pregnancy, he would not have been nearly as badly injured.  

Ilya spread the lube onto two fingers, rubbing them together to warm it slightly as he braced himself behind his mate. He ran a hand carefully over the curve of Shane’s belly, the golden sparks and the moan Shane let out letting him know they really were okay as he teased at the still slightly loose ring of muscle. The rim was a pretty, heated pink as Ilya rubbed the pad of his finger around the softening hole. His finger dipped in, slipping in easily as he pressed his other hand down on Shane’s back to hold him still with a growl. 

“Nyet. Stay down.” 

Shane let out a low moan but obeyed, stilling the movement of trying to rub his cock against the fabric beneath him, desperate for any sort of friction, but Ilya knew Shane could and would come on his cock. 

“Stay still. You can take this.”

Ilya leaned over his mate’s muscular back as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to his shoulders and spine. Making sure that the injured shoulder was the one that settled into the couch cushions and was supported, it was Shane’s good arm holding him up. Shane was more than strong enough to brace his and Ilya’s weight on his good arm and his powerful, thickly muscled thighs. 

Happy that Shane was going to obey, he went back to easing the finger inside that pretty, reddened hole. 

Shane’s ass clamped down on him instantly, making Ilya groan out a growl at the heat and grip. Shane was trying to hurry him along without disobeying and moving; it was working. His own cock was throbbing, rock hard and red against his stomach. 

He was still loose from the night before, so Ilya eased the second finger in and dragged the rough pads of his fingers over the sensitive, heated walls of muscle that were trying to suck his fingers deeper, spasming around his knuckles as he twisted and spread them to open Shane up enough. 

Shane moaned and mewled. Ilya could feel those thighs twitch with the urge to move, to thrust back into his hand, to get Ilya to give him more. 

He drew his fingers back, and as he nearly pulled them out, he pressed a third in, watching as that pink, puffy rim gave way around his third digit. 

Ilya pressed all three as deep as they would go, finally hitting Shane’s prostate and causing his mate to let out that beautifully loud yowl of pleasure, high and needy. 

“Ilyusha…Please.”

Ilya stilled. 

His blood roared in his veins. He leaned down, blanketing Shane’s smaller frame with his own heavier and broader one. He pressed his mouth right to the sensitive shell of Shane’s ear and managed to rumble out the words. 

“What? Say it again.”

Shane arched his neck and looked over his good shoulder at Ilya, eyes fully gold now. He opened his swollen, pretty pink mouth, gaze locked with Ilya’s and whispered his undoing. 

“Ilyusha…Please fuck me.”

Ilya almost came on the spot. 

It was only phenomenal control that he kept himself in check. 

That was one of the most intimate diminutives of his name that Shane could use; spoken like that, in that sultry, deep, smooth voice, it was deadly, and Ilya both loved and hated it.

 

He pulled his fingers out, ignoring Shane’s whine at the sudden loss, as he slicked his cock up with the lube still on his hands and extra from the bottle before tossing it somewhere over his shoulder, not able to take his eyes off his bondmate. 

Ilya dragged his cock up the length of Shane’s ass, the head of his cock catching on the swollen rim on each pass. He had his hand on the lovely dip just above the full curve of Shane’s ass, and his other one was holding his hips up, helping to take some of their weight and make sure Shane didn't lean too heavily and catch either his stomach or his shoulder. 

He hiked Shane’s ass up a little higher and then sank his cock into that glorious ass in one smooth, heavy slide. Ilya felt the walls of muscle give around him, making space as Ilya buried himself to the hilt in that velvet warmth. He groaned in pleasure and pressed himself to Shane’s back for a moment, kissing his neck and down the arched spine before straightening up to adjust his angle and snap his hips back, his thighs flexing with his powerful thrusts as he set to pounding into his mate’s perfect ass. 

Shane was letting out loud, high mewls with every thrust, his head hanging limp and his huge thighs trembling with the effort to hold both of them. 

Ilya pushed a little harder on that supine spine and tightened his grip around the plush handful of hip in his hand as he changed his thrusts to a heavy, deep grind, the full force of his body driving his cock as deep as he could into Shane’s prostate. The pressure was almost constant against the little bundle of nerves, causing Shane’s whole body to suddenly lock up around him as he came, his orgasm crashing through him with force, for Ilya to snarl at how tight his cock was squeezed by Shane’s muscles. 

It caused Ilya to climax as well, the tightness, the heat, the filthy moaning that was going to be forever imprinted in his brain as Shane shivered and spasmed through his cock, coating his belly and even up across his beautiful, swollen tits; it was that much. 

The sight caused Ilya to haul Shane’s ass tighter against his cock and more of his own copious amounts of come being released into Shane. With his cock still pressed deep and the sheer amount of him that had just come inside Shane’s willing body, Ilya carefully eased his hand around that curved lower belly. 

The skin was taut, shiny, exquisite, with stretch marks visible as Ilya could feel the amount he had come into his mate was enough to be felt, since there was less space now. If it were possible, Ilya would have been hard again. He groaned, low and long. He put a little pressure on the swollen mound and felt Shane’s cock give a valiant effort of trying to harden against the back of his hand. 

Shane mewled pitifully but arched a little bit more, settling into a stronger stance than his melting body had managed in the aftermath of such a powerful orgasm. 

Gold glittered over them both; it wasn't only sparks anymore, it was a full glow across both of them. Not a blinding one, just a very soft, glowing outline around their entwined silhouettes.   

Ilya hadn’t pulled out yet. Instead, he shifted so he could get his arm all the way around Shane’s waist and carefully manoeuvred him back up and against his chest. He hadn’t gone fully soft, not even with the sheer amount he had just emptied into Shane. He settled back in the middle of the sofa, Shane now in his lap, back plastered to his chest, and still seated with his cock flush against his ass.    

He felt Shane’s hands stroking along his thighs as Ilya slid his hands around Shane’s hips to adjust him. The movement caused Ilya to groan softly as Shane suddenly tightened around him, his cock still not soft. 

In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered reading something about this, about what could happen to bondmates who had suffered a prolonged separation that hadn’t been on purpose. Of it being so much more intense when they reconnected, the added pregnancy and whole situation leading up to the bond’s breaking point, making it all the worse. 

As Ilya settled, he pulled Shane back to lie over him to rest his weight against Ilya as they watched the golden glow settle a bit into their skin but not disappear. 

He trailed his hands across Shane’s stomach, the soft curve still more pronounced in this position. Shane let out a soft little mewl as Ilya pressed his palm down where his cock was still deep inside Shane’s body, causing Ilya to growl when Shane’s muscles fluttered and tightened around him. 

Shane tilted his head to ask for a kiss, and Ilya took his mouth eagerly, his desire not really cooled but banked slightly. 

He licked into Shane’s mouth, rubbing their tongues together and sucking those plush lips into his own mouth and worrying at them with little nips and sucks until Shane was melting and submitting.  

Ilya eased one hand up Shane’s chest to find his still slightly swollen tits, the softened muscle puffed up around the hardened little buds. Almost lazily, Ilya circled the very tip of his roughened fingers around the pebbled bud. Shane hissed softly and arched into the touch; he had always had sensitive nipples, and it was so much worse now that he was pregnant, apparently. Ilya was delighted to discover. 

Slowly, he rubbed circles around the hard buds under his fingers, swapping between them because he was unwilling to remove his other hand from where it was pressed to the slight bulge of his come and his cock still inside his mate.  

When Shane was arching and squirming under his hands, he lifted his hand to those swollen, kiss-bitten lips and pressed his thumb into the hinge of that delectable jawline with a low, rumbling growl of a command. 

“Suck.”

Shane instantly opened his mouth and drew in Ilya’s fingers, that hot, wet tongue swirling and dipping around each one. He felt Shane hollow his cheeks and suck them in further, mimicking the technique that drove Ilya mad when it was his cock in Shane’s talented mouth.  

Firmly, he tightened his hold around Shane’s jaw and deliberately slowly pulled his fingers out, causing Shane to whine and try to chase them, but the hold around his throat stopped him.

“Nyet. Enough.”

Voice still more growl than human, Ilya knew his eyes were as gold as Shane’s were, the bond fully active in them both as the heat kicked up again. 

They were both hard again. 

Shane shifted and moaned as Ilya went back to playing with his nipples, the wet, rabidly cooling spit causing him to whine at the dual sensations, but Ilya began to roll the little bud between his fingers. He weighed the plush handful in his palm and squeezed as he rolled his hips up in a slow, filthy grind. He was barely moving his hips; his cock was pressed up against Shane’s prostate in a constant pressure. 

Ilya wasn’t really moving; he was letting Shane cockwarm him while he played with him, and he was more than a bit aroused at the thought of seeing if he could make Shane come like this.

He switched sides, pinching slightly at the neglected bud and pulling just enough to get a hiss out of Shane as he arched his back and rolled his hips down onto Ilya’s cock. The movement caused the pull on Shane’s nipple to be harder; at the same time, Ilya ground his cock up sharply and directly into Shane’s prostate. 

Shane let out a keening moan as he tried to move his body to get more of both sensations, but was trapped in Ilya’s hold. He felt those claws extend slightly where Shane was digging his strong hands into the meat of Ilya’s thighs for both balance and support. 

“I think you can come like this.”

Ilya’s voice sounded more like his own now, but still with an undercurrent of ‘other’ that sounded both dangerous and sultry.      

Shane moaned but shook his head. 

Ilya could see the glistening of tears gathering at the corners of glowing golden eyes. The soft glow gave Shane an otherworldly edge that only added to his sensuality, the way he was arching back on Ilya’s cock, his head thrown back as he pushed his chest into Ilya’s touch and his own cock throbbing against that visible bulge of Ilya’s come inside him.

He shifted his hips and dropped his hand down to slide under one huge, powerful thigh. He lifted and used Shane’s delightful flexibility to wrap the leg over his lap and open Shane up over his hips to give him the leverage to move. 

Finally, he wrapped his hands around Shane’s hips and held him on his cock as he thrust up, using the weight of Shane and the position to drive up and deeper.

Shane didn’t last. Ilya was close as well. He had been edging them both, and it showed. Ilya pressed his hand over the bulge, and as he thrust up, he pushed harder, knowing Shane could feel both the come around inside of him, the pressure on the curve, and his cock driving up into him all at once.

The sound Shane made was filthy; it was hot, and it drove Ilya over the edge with him. 

Ilya caught Shane’s weight as his orgasm caused him to almost black out with the force of it. He, too, was shuddering and growling through his own, which was stronger even than the first.

 

For a few moments, everything was pure gold, all around them, intertwined and swirling serenely around them. Pure contentment seemed to flood Ilya as he wrapped his arms around his mate’s spent body, soft and relaxed in a way that Ilya loved to see. 

He felt Shane turn his head and press his mouth to Ilya’s throat, not quite a kiss but holding the contact, a flicker of a tongue as Shane lapped at his sweat-soaked skin.

The purr was low; Ilya could feel it through their bodies as much as hear it. 

“You okay, Lyubimyy?”

English had not come back online yet, but Shane’s brain was obviously working better than his because he understood. 

Shane nodded into his neck, and the purring got louder. 

“Very much so, Ilyusha.”

Honestly, he was a bit worried he might have hurt his mate; after all, he hadn’t been exactly gentle, but Shane was relaxed and sated in his arms. 

“I didn’t hurt your shoulder or collarbone, did I?”

Again, Shane shook his head, but this time he lifted it up from where it was tucked into Ilya’s neck to make eye contact; his hands came up to cradle either side of Ilya’s face as he pressed a tender kiss on his lips. Ilya chased the caress as Shane pulled back, which Shane allowed and kissed him again before softly kissing his forehead in the same loving, adoring move he had done after their very first time.

“No, Ilyusha, you didn’t hurt me. I promise that I am perfectly capable of stopping you if I did.”

Ilya was well aware of this, but still. 

“I know, Lyubimyy, but…”

He didn’t get any further. Shane kissed him into silence. His teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and the hands in his curls pulled just enough that he grumbled a growl softly in mock protest. 

“If you keep doing that, minx, we are going again.”

Shane tugged again. Once. Then he eased up and pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together. 

“I am not sure I can.”

Ilya wasn’t sure he could, but that didn’t mean he wouldn't try; the way Shane winced when Ilya lifted him off his lap derailed that thought instantly. Instead, he swept Shane up into a bridal carry and headed for a hot bath. The soft, now sleepy whisper in his ear made his heart swell with adoration. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilyusha.”

As he settled them both into a hot bath, he cuddled Shane close and kissed him, soft and tender, caressing every inch of skin as he gently washed his mate clean. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Shane.”

 

By the time they were both clean and Shane was fast asleep in their bed, Ilya had just lain down when he caught sight of the alarm clock on Shane’s side. 

It was 3 in the afternoon. 

His practice had started an hour ago, and his phone was still in do-not-disturb mode, silent and screen down next to Shane’s. For a moment, he debated getting back up to get it and call either his Coach or Cliff, but then Shane snuffled and snuggled deeper into his arms. 

Ilya decided that his mate and their baby were more important. It wouldn’t matter now anyway. The game wasn't until tomorrow, and it was at home. He would sort it later. For now, Shane needed to sleep, and he was needed right where he was. 

He snaked his hand under the oversized T-shirt that Shane had promptly claimed out of his hands after their bath and settled his hand over the smaller but still slight curve of their baby. 

Dealing with the fallout was a problem for tomorrow. Hopefully, the bond would have settled down, and both of them would be less at its mercy; it felt satisfied or at least that was the feeling Ilya was getting in the back of his head, where that gold thread seemed to have settled in to stay.  

Little sparkles of gold flickered around his fingers as he stroked the soft skin and closed his eyes. Shane was already asleep, and he wasn’t far behind. 

On the nightstand, his phone stayed dark and silent, since the only number that could get through was now sitting right next to it. 

 

Chapter 6: Enter the Bears

Chapter Notes

Well over half of this is smut, just a warning, as it gets heavy and hot in this. Read carefully because there is a lot of lore and bond information mixed in. This is a very long chapter. Please enjoy. Let me know what you think.

A loud, obnoxious hammering sound tore Ilya from sleep. Instantly, he was alert and up on his feet, weight balanced, feet shoulder-width apart, and eyes pure gold.   

Ilya scanned their bedroom, their sanctuary; nothing had moved, nothing had been touched. He leaned down to wrap a hand around the back of Shane’s neck as his mate moved. 

“Go back to sleep, Lyubimyy.”

If Shane hadn't been exhausted, there was no way he would have obeyed, but he was conditioned to listen to that tone Ilya had just used, and his mate was shattered from the last few days. Anyway, it wasn't for Shane’s safety. It was for the avoidance of a very possible bloodbath, depending on who was trying to put their fist through his front door. 

The suspects were pretty fucking limited. 

When Ilya had sold his downtown apartment, he had kept his new address on an even shorter list than his apartment had been. The house had been as close to a copy of the huge, fancy glass mansion Shane had been waxing poetry about on that documentary as Ilya could find, not that he admitted that to anyone, least of all himself. 

If he also happened to have slowly added things Shane had offhandedly mentioned over the years, or that he had spotted Shane liking or using, then so what? It was his house. 

If he had imported specially handmade weighted blankets and the same phenomenally expensive bedding that Shane adored on every single bed in the house, then who was going to say anything? 

Other than Cliff, but Marly could fuck right off. 

He could turn it into a honey trap for unsuspecting and devastatingly pretty Canadians if he wanted to, because there was a little voice in the back of Ilya’s head telling him that if he ever got Shane to sleep over, then he had to make sure he would want to stay. 

When the sound came again, this time it made a noise like the door was going to cave in. Ilya’s lip curled up in a snarl of silent warning, body gone deadly still. His muscles were tense, and his vision had sharpened. Eyes gone completely gold. His ears pricked up; he could hear Shane’s steady, calm heartbeat from the bed. It was enough to keep him in check. For now. 

Ilya stalked to the door. Chest bare, muscles rippling under his skin as he seemed to make himself bigger, broader than his already massive frame. A sudden sharp needle-like point of pain in the corner of his lip caught him off guard for a second as Ilya reached up and touched the spot; a bead of crimson came away, and his canine teeth were now longer and much sharper. The now much more dangerous teeth had cut into his own lip. The bond was crackling under his skin, awake and far more active than Ilya had felt it before.  

The sound of the heartbeat on the other side of the door told Ilya it was one person; the scent was vaguely familiar, as was the heavy pattern of breathing he could detect. 

Then came the shout. Now that was a voice he knew all too well. 

“Oi, Roz? What the fuck, man? You'd better be alive in there!”

Cliff Marlow. 

Ilya’s teammate and Alternate Captain. 

The man Ilya had been deliberately staying away from since he had hit Shane, although he logically knew Cliff hadn’t meant it, hadn’t meant to hurt Shane so badly. In fact, it was more Ilya’s fault than Cliff’s. The only reason Shane had been so hurt was that his body was already battling their bond being under such strain. It made Ilya tense, though, his muscles coiled tight and ready to explode into action. He had to fight down his instinctual response to both break Cliff’s bones and tear his throat out. 

How dare he come here? To Ilya’s territory.  

Ilya’s anger was white-hot; it burned along the open path that the bond was thrumming through. Deadly and dangerous in its intensity. He had to take a few moments to breathe through the anger, to ground himself on the knowledge that his mate was safe, asleep in his bed. Cliff hadn’t caused permanent harm, or even harm that had lasted as long as it would have done for anyone else. 

Right now, though, Ilya was struggling to remember that Cliff was his friend, possibly his best friend in Boston and his trusted teammate. Ilya’s hackles were up, and all he could think of was a threat. A threat to his healing mate and unborn child, whom he had also very nearly lost.    

He was almost tempted not to open the door. To keep the physical barrier between them for a little longer, but Ilya knew that Cliff was only worried. That his whole team would be worried. Which was the only reason he was going to open it.  

 

Ilya had shut the bedroom door and told Shane to stay; currently, with the bond running so high in his blood, Ilya could hear well enough to identify that Shane had fallen back asleep. The bond was obviously more active on his end right now because Shane would be the far more dangerous one if he perceived Cliff as a threat. Ilya at least had his previous relationship to help remind his brain that he wanted to keep his teammate alive. Shane had none of that. At this moment, if Shane were the one to lose himself to the bond and instincts, then there was a very real danger of Cliff being killed.   

Ilya threw the door open. 

The hulking form of his friend almost fell on his ass; whether it was from the look on Ilya’s face or the fact that he had been leaning on the door when Ilya had opened it, he wasn't too sure, but the image of the older man with his head lower than Ilya’s was at least allowing Ilya to pause. 

“Marly. What the fuck do you want?”

Cliff got to his feet, but now the big man looked wary.

Ilya was on the brink of snarling at this point; it was taking a humongous effort to keep from driving his friend away, very possibly by the points of his now extremely sharp teeth. 

More than likely, his eyes were glowing gold, but there was nothing Ilya could do; the bond was thrumming through his veins, burning the rage, the protectiveness higher and higher. 

His mate was as vulnerable as such a high-level Carrier could ever be right now, still recovering and exhausted as Shane was. Ilya did not doubt that if there was a true threat, then Shane would be more than capable of killing; in fact, he would be more likely to, as he was presently. 

Cliff crossed his arms over his thickset chest with a heavy frown on his face as he regarded Ilya. 

“What do you mean, ‘what the fuck do I want?’ Roz, where the fuck have you been, man? You missed practice, a mandatory practice, and no one could get hold of you?”

Ilya tried to ease back; he really did, but the bond was pushing, and Ilya was pretty fucking sure he was on the edge of feral. Or at least he thought he was. It was hard to tell. 

“I was busy.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. Hard. 

“Oh, were you? What is ‘busy’s’ name then, Roz? Because you look like you have gone three rounds with a lion and lost.”

Fuck. 

Ilya didn’t even have to look; he knew he was covered in nasty-looking, extremely fresh scratches, some of which had even broken the skin from where Shane’s claws had unsheathed. 

He bristled at the tone Cliff was using. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Marly, before I knock the rest of your teeth out.”

Cliff took a step back and put his hands up in apparent shock. 

“Hey, chill out, man. Look, Coach is pretty pissed, so you need to get your ass down…”

Ilya didn’t let him finish; instead, he growled, a horrible, animalistic sound that made Cliff flinch back. 

“Nyet. Not today. Tell Coach I will be there tomorrow.”

Ilya knew Jon was only worried, and even in his furious state, a flicker of upset was able to spark in his brain. His Coach had been one of the only people other than Shane who knew some of the truth of Ilya’s return to Russia each summer. Ilya would have to make an effort to reach out, but later. Cliff looked pissed himself now, but after Ilya met his gaze, knowing what his own probably looked like right then, Cliff ducked his head and looked away first, while tilting his head to bare his neck. Subconsciously deferring to Ilya without knowing what he was doing. 

Ilya rumbled softly in assent to the acquiescence and managed to soften his stance at his friend’s show of acceptance.   

“It's your funeral, but I will tell him, Roz, but you're okay, right?”

Ilya gave his usual half-smirk that passed for a smile and nodded. 

“Da. Yes, more than okay, Marly.”

At that, Cliff glanced at the state of Ilya’s torso again before snorting and throwing a wave over his huge shoulder. 

“Don’t be late, Roz! Let her walk some tomorrow, yeah?!”

The sniggering drifted back to where Ilya stood in the doorway, watching until Cliff had driven away. 

He must have forgotten to activate the cameras last night in the haste to get Shane safely inside his territory, into his bed, where he belonged. 

Ilya shut the door and locked it, making sure he had actually pressed the button on the screen by the key holder to turn on the gate cameras. He really didn’t want anyone else turning up with no warning, although the rest of the team were unlikely to do so now that Cliff had confirmed that Ilya wasn't dead on his own kitchen floor. 

 

Shane was still right where Ilya had left him, but narrowed golden eyes watched him from the snug burrito-style nest Shane had made in the duvet once Ilya had left and the cold started to sneak in. 

“One of your team?”

Ilya nodded as he wiggled his hands into the folds Shane had made to try to seal himself inside. He felt the corner give, and Shane opened it up and offered him a chance to crawl back under. 

“Cliff Marlow. Haven’t taken my phone off ‘do not disturb’ yet, so no idea what they have all been sending me.”

Shane made a disproving noise at him, but then immediately proved that he didn’t mean it because he was snuggling into Ilya’s arms the moment he had lain back down. Ilya made a low, pleased grumble in his chest when he gathered Shane back in close, his body heat warming Shane’s cooler skin quickly. 

“Ilya, you really should ring at least your Coach.”

He tightened his arms around Shane’s waist, pulling his mate into his chest, and promptly buried his head into Shane’s delectable neck. Strong, graceful hands started to card softly through his curls as Shane wrapped his own arms around Ilya’s shoulders and back. Ilya felt the tension from Cliff’s appearance start to drain away under every stroke of those perfect hands. The deep, contented rumble joined Shane’s lighter purr as they lay there, gold flickering around them as they just took a moment to settle themselves. 

Those hands eased through the tangles in his curls, carefully and gently removing each knot that Shane found. Ilya was already half asleep again by the time he had finished; the bedroom was full of golden sparks, and the two melding sounds of Shane’s purr and Ilya’s answering rumble. 

A quiet little grumble from Shane’s stomach had Ilya opening his eyes. The stark reminder that Shane hadn't eaten nearly enough in the last few days. 

“Come on, Lyubimyy. What do you think you can eat?”

Shane didn’t move, but he did lift his hand and let Ilya lift himself to a sitting position. He stroked the backs of his fingers across Shane’s cheekbone, tracing those beautiful freckles as he watched Shane think, entranced by just how beautiful his mate was. 

“I was sticking to really plain stuff. After we all got ill from that fish, I was struggling to keep anything down. Of course, now I don’t know how much of that was early pregnancy symptoms.”

Ilya leaned down and brushed a tender kiss to Shane’s mouth, warmth from the bond surging up into his chest at the touch. The bond was particularly happy right now and making that happiness known in the dancing gold flickers that were falling like soft rain all around them. 

Gently, he kept pressing kisses down Shane’s chest, following the little golden sparks as they skittered across Shane’s glowing skin. Ilya kept the kisses soft, light, and caressing; he wasn't trying to arouse right now, but to worship instead. Once he reached the gentle swell of Shane’s stomach, he paused. 

As Shane lay on his back, the soft curve was pretty flat, but there was still a slight softness under his abs. No one but Ilya would be able to tell, not yet anyway, but it was there. 

Their baby. 

Safe and protected. 

From what he could remember about the books he had read back in Russia, higher-level Carriers didn’t really noticeably show until right at the end. They had an exact conception date, so right now Shane was nearly 13 weeks; depending on how long he carried for, this could actually be the halfway point. 

Shane let out a tiny, breathy sigh as Ilya pressed kisses to the start of the curve. Tracing his mouth over the silky skin and making sure he covered every inch, he gathered Shane’s ample hips in his hands and kneaded the flesh as he nipped at the sharp jut of Shane’s hipbone. The sigh turned into a mewl. Ilya nuzzled his face into the juncture of Shane’s thick thigh, into the dip where the skin was the most sensitive, as he ran his tongue along a pretty stretch mark that was calling to him. 

He nipped at the very top of Shane’s thigh, mouthing and working at the skin until he sank his once again sharper-than-normal canine teeth into the soft muscle. Shane moaned. His hand threaded into Ilya’s curls and tugged, the slight sting of pain going straight down to Ilya’s cock. 

“Ilyusha.”

The way Shane purred out his name should be illegal. It sent shivers up Ilya’s spine as Shane arched his back into Ilya’s mouth as he trailed bites down the inside of each thigh. 

Ilya made his way back up a thigh, ghosting his fingers up Shane’s stomach till he got his hand around that gorgeous tit and palmed at the already hardening nipples. Shane arched up into his hand, trying to press closer, to get more, but Ilya laid more of his weight across his smaller mate, pinned Shane’s hips down, and ignored the low, needy whine that escaped those pink, swollen lips. 

“No rush. Just lie there and enjoy Lyubimyy.”

Shane hissed at him and gave a harsher tug at his curls, which had the opposite effect of what Shane had been aiming for because all it did was make Ilya growl and pin him harder. He pinched at the bud between his fingers and gave it a sharper tug in retaliation, knowing that Shane’s chest was more sensitive than ever now. 

“Fuck …”

The curse was torn from Shane’s throat in a moan as Ilya drew the reddened nipple into his mouth and soothed it with his tongue, sucking and licking until the flesh was swollen. Like it would be soon. Shane’s chest would get bigger, heavier as he got closer to giving birth. Carriers above a very low level could successfully produce their own milk. Shane, as a level 10, would definitely be able to.

Ilya groaned at the thought. 

Already, Shane had a perfect chest, muscular but still slightly soft, and already bigger. The dark, lovely tan ring around his nipples was a little more pronounced, and his tits had softened, rounded just a bit, even though Shane was still as muscular as ever. He switched his mouth over to the other side and gave the other nipple the same treatment. He pulled the hardened bud up into his mouth and sucked, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin, and then he slowly pressed his teeth down around it. 

Shane jerked under him and let out a high-pitched yowl of pleasure as Ilya held his nipple in his teeth. He wasn’t biting down; he was just applying the hint of sharp pressure.  

Ilya let go and gave the now puffy, swollen tits a last lick before he braced himself on one arm to kiss Shane. He moaned as Shane opened instantly under him and was greedily sucking on his tongue as strong hands dug into the meat of his ass and tried to pull his hips down, as Shane tried to arch up into him and get some relief. 

Both of them were hard. Shane’s cock was leaking a steady flow of precome over them both as Ilya gave in and ground his hips down; the slick, hot slide of their cocks pressed together had Ilya growling into Shane’s mouth. He wrapped a large hand around Shane’s throat and changed the angle so he could plunder deeper into that velvet mouth. 

“Sweetheart, what do you want?”

Ilya dragged his mouth away from Shane long enough to growl out the question. He wasn’t sure just how sore Shane was right now and would let his mate make the decision. 

Suddenly, Ilya was trapped by plush, thickly muscled thighs as he was flipped over. The movement was powerful and graceful. Shane was so fucking strong; Ilya knew he was heavier, he was bulkier and taller, but the ease with which Shane had just flipped them made Ilya let out a deep half-groan, half-growl. 

“Fuck…Shane…”

Shane was straddling Ilya’s hips, huge thighs tensed and clamped down on either side as Ilya fought to allow his mate to do what he wanted. No matter that he was now as hard as a rock after that little display and wanted nothing more than to throw Shane down and fuck him until he couldn’t move. 

Chocolate eyes ringed with gold watched him. Claws were unsheathed enough to scratch, even if they didn’t yet break skin. Gold hummed all around them, bathing them both in a soft, luxurious glow. 

“Yes. Ilyusha. I want you to fuck me.”

It was Ilya’s turn to moan; his eyes rolled back into his head for a moment, and he had to forcibly fight down his own arousal. It wasn’t fair. How was his mate this fucking hot yet didn’t seem to have a clue that everyone, anyone, would kill to be in Ilya’s place, even without knowing Shane was a Carrier.

Ilya’s hands were tight around Shane’s hips. He knew he was gripping on the edge of too hard, but he couldn't help it. Then Shane leaned down and began to kiss and nip at Ilya’s throat, his own teeth much sharper, leaving little sparks of pleasure when Shane bit down hard enough to almost break the skin. 

A growl was torn from Ilya’s chest as he felt Shane suck hard on a sensitive patch of skin over his pulse point. 

“Claiming me, Lyubimyy? Letting everyone know I belong to you now?”

There was a nasty, vicious hiss in response as Shane bit down harder on the side of his neck. Ilya snarled back as he felt those canines break through his skin and a sudden sharp sting of pain as Shane sucked around the teeth marks he had now left. 

“Yes. You're mine. You always were, Ilyusha.”

That had no right to sound so possessive and hot while sweet at the same time. Ilya’s vision was once again edged with gold, which he had now worked out meant the bond was fully active, and they were both feeding off each other’s flood of instincts. 

“Fuck. Da. I’m yours, Shane. Was always yours.”

Shane’s hiss turned to a rolling purr, and he eased back to soothe the bites he had left with long, slow swipes of his tongue. Ilya tipped his head back and gave his mate all the room he could want. His team was going to have a field day with this tomorrow, but right now, Ilya couldn't give a shit. 

The movement of Shane sitting back up dragged his glorious ass right across the hard, aching length of Ilya’s cock, which caused him to groan and wrap his hands around Shane’s waist to still his motion. 

“You want it like this?”

Shane had to be in the mood to ride him, and apparently, that was now because his mate was bracing himself on his chest and looking at him through glassy, blown eyes and biting his lip. 

“Yes…”

There was an unspoken end to that sentence, so Ilya waited, kneading and squeezing at the handfuls of ass filling his hands. 

“I want… I want you to take me without stretching first…”

Ilya froze. 

Maybe his brain had translated that wrong because he may have just died and gone to heaven otherwise.

“Lyubimyy, say that again, please?”

Shane was flushed; his eyes wouldn’t look at Ilya now, but his body was firm and warm above him, and most telling was the twitch his mate’s hard, leaking cock gave when he repeated it even more quietly than before.

“Ilyusha…please fuck me so I can’t walk tomorrow. I want to feel you every time I move… to remind me while you're not here.”

Ilya growled. 

“You will murder me…”

 

He rolled them. Biceps bulging with the sudden strain of taking Shane’s weight to manoeuvre their position. There was no way Shane was going to be able to do this and stay on top of him. He ignored the disgruntled hiss and kissed Shane to silence him. He eased their mouths together, devouring the indignant noise as it turned into a softer moan when Ilya kept kissing him.  

“Nyet Lyubimyy, I will give you this, but I won’t hurt you. Like this is better for the first time.”

It was true. Shane was going to be very sore afterwards, and lying on his back would be easiest on his still-recovering body. Ilya was not going to refuse his mate, but he was going to do this carefully; he wanted a repeat after all.  

Shane tilted his neck and stretched his bare throat in open seduction as he wrapped his arms around Ilya’s shoulders to draw him back down. Ilya gladly followed the siren call of his mate and settled his weight fully on top of Shane. He checked those eyes, making sure that Shane was okay with his weight, mainly on his stomach, but his collarbone too. 

Those beautiful eyes were dark with desire, clear permission in them. 

Ilya nudged one plush thigh out of the way to make space for himself to settle more firmly between Shane’s legs. He kneaded and massaged the thigh as he lifted it, unable to resist nuzzling the ample muscle and sucking another dark bruise into the creamy skin. 

Before he leaned over to pull the lube out of his bedside drawer, he cautiously pulled a condom out too, but was not surprised at the offended hiss it got. 

Ilya dropped it back into the drawer and snaked a hand around Shane’s jaw to firmly angle his head. He pushed his thumb into the corner of that sweet mouth to make Shane part his lips around the intrusion. 

“Easy.”

He had known the answer, but he would ask. Just in case. It would always be Shane’s choice. The bottle of lube, however, would very much be needed for this. 

Instead of coating his fingers as he would usually, Ilya spread Shane’s thighs and poured a decent amount of the still-cool liquid directly onto Shane’s slightly puffy rim. Shane’s hips tried to jerk up at the sensation, but Ilya had been ready for the reaction and still had him pinned. The hiss Shane let out was low and throaty as his hard cock twitched at the feeling.  

With one finger, he rubbed the lube around the ring of muscle, resisting the way Shane was desperately trying to hitch his hips so his finger would slide inside. Ilya watched as he spread more into the softening rim, leaving Shane’s already glowing skin glistening in the golden light that bathed them both. He had to swallow down the saliva pooling in his mouth at the tempting sight, but with a deep breath, Ilya steadied himself.   

Taking up the bottle again, he quickly coated his cock in a generous amount of lube, the cool feeling actually taking a tiny bit of the edge off as he was rock hard and trembling with the forced patience this was going to take. 

Slowly, he lifted one beautiful, tanned leg over his shoulder, kissed the calf as he did, then the other. Ilya pulled a pillow down and propped Shane’s hips up to ease the angle and not put any added strain on his mate’s body for this. 

“You still want?”

Ilya paused as he ran his cock over Shane’s soaking hole, the swollen head catching as Shane tried to thrust up to meet him, to encourage him where he wanted him, but Ilya’s heavier weight held him down. 

“I need your words, Lyubimyy”

Shane moaned and threw a muscled arm up to cover his eyes; dampness gathered at the corner of his lovely sooty lashes, and his exquisite freckles were stained alluring pink. 

He reached up and pulled Shane’s arm away from his eyes. He wanted to see his pretty face and those eyes. A deep band of gold was already taking over most of the chocolate. The mix took Ilya’s breath away as he leaned down to press a heated, deep kiss to those rose-petal-soft lips. 

“Yes. I still want, Ilyusha”

Ilya readjusted Shane’s thighs, grasped the base of his throbbing cock, and he squeezed for a moment, just to gain back a little control, then he pressed his head against that tight, twitching rim. 

The pressure was overwhelming: the heat, the tightness. 

It was taking an extraordinary effort for Ilya to hold himself back; Shane was tense under him, but Ilya just soothingly ran his hands over Shane’s heaving flanks. Still, he didn't stop; he pushed steadily inside. 

Shane wasn’t so tight that this would tear him, as Ilya hadn’t gone easy the last day or so, but his muscles were strong, and his pretty Canadian had an impressive recovery time considering that Ilya's cock was both long and thick.  

He could feel Shane’s body giving around him, those silky, velvet-hot walls of muscle ever so slowly relaxing and giving way to his relentless, heavy drive. The pressure around his cock was making Ilya feel like he was teetering right on the edge of feral, but he gritted his teeth and forced his own orgasm back down. 

Shane was crying. Big, wet tears cascaded down flushed cheeks; Shane’s head was thrown back, and his tendons were straining his neck as his mate fought to force his muscles open, to relax and let Ilya bully his cock inside. 

Ilya rubbed his thumb across a swollen nipple; the spark of pleasure distracted Shane long enough for Ilya to nudge a little deeper.  

“That's it, Lyubimyy, relax. Let me in. You can do it.”

A half sob, half moan came from Shane as he reached up to anchor himself on Ilya’s shoulders and back. The sharp sting of claws digging into his muscles had Ilya involuntarily grinding his hips in a deeper, more aggressive movement with a low growl of pleasure. 

His cock sank deeper. Ilya held still for a moment, his chest heaving with the effort of not pounding Shane into the mattress. His core was wound tight, his thighs were trembling, and he was sweating with the strength it was taking to do this slowly. 

Shane’s thighs were clamped down around Ilya’s hips as he adjusted the angle before pressing forward. Shane was letting out a low, constant moan now as Ilya rolled his hips forward. 

Ilya looked down. 

Shane’s belly was heaving in time with his panting breath. His perfect, pretty cock was still hard and leaking against his stomach, despite the tears Shane hadn’t said stop. He hadn't used his safe word. Those beautiful eyes were glassy and golden but flooded with heat.

“Still okay?”

Ilya wasn’t sure if Shane was completely beyond words, but the bond was thrumming, almost vibrating under his skin. Gold danced between them where their skin touched. 

Shane nodded, his sharper canine teeth digging into that plush bottom lip as he threaded a hand into the back of Ilya’s curls to pull him down and slot their mouths together in a wet, messy kiss. Shane bit at his lips, and Ilya sucked his tongue into his mouth, then soothed over the pinpricks of blood that Shane’s own teeth had caused.  

The hold Shane had on his hair tightened, and Shane suddenly wrapped his powerful legs all the way around Ilya’s hips to trap him. To try and pull his hips in closer, but Ilya resisted, causing Shane to growl softly at him.   

“Come on … please Ilya… I can take it…please”

Ilya looked down to where his cock was being swallowed by Shane’s willing body. The ring of muscle was pink, puffy and swollen around the girth of his cock, stretched and tight.

He reached a hand down to press his thumb right against the taut skin where his cock was still only halfway inside. 

Shane let out a high whine that was almost a scream at the pressure he was putting on that stretched, aching hole. Ilya watched as Shane’s cock jerked and more pre-come dripped out of his slit. 

Ilya eased the very tip of his thumb past the tight ring, just to see if Shane could take that as well. He could. The pad of his finger pressed into the fluttering rim as the muscle gave under the added pressure; the slight extra opening allowed Ilya to sink deeper. 

“I know you can take it, Lyubimyy. Could you take more?”

He wouldn't push, not more than this, not right now, but the way Shane was writhing, trying to both push up for more and away from the fresh sting of the extra stretch, had Ilya finally giving in. He took his hand away and steadied himself above Shane, arms holding him up to keep the angle as he kept eye contact. 

Ilya snapped his hips forward. The thrust was brutal. It forced Shane open, drove his cock as deep as he could go into his mate. Shane came with a yowl as Ilya bottomed out with a soundless snarl. 

They were both trembling as Ilya stilled. He could feel Shane’s ass clenching and fluttering around him as Shane clung to his shoulders. Tears slipped slowly down pink cheeks. His mate was still hard, but pearly white come coated his pretty cock as Ilya began to move, fucking up into Shane as his mate rode the aftershocks. 

Gold glowed around them. Shane was bathed in it. Ilya could feel the bond was flooding his own veins, adding to his stamina and relishing in them connecting again. 

Shane arched his back as Ilya drew out, almost all the way, then he drove back inside. He anchored himself by wrapping his hands around those plush hips and hefting Shane up at the better angle to finally lose control. 

Low, guttural growls were being torn out of his chest as Shane spasmed around his cock. He was close; he had been close for far too long, and he wouldn't last. Not with the way Shane’s ass was gripping at him, milking his cock for all it was worth.   

“Fuck. Shane.”

He sped up, angling his thrusts to pound up into Shane’s tender prostate. His mate tightened his legs around Ilya’s waist and clung as he mouthed at the exposed neck. 

Shane was shivering and trembling, and Ilya could feel the strain in those massive thighs signalling that Shane was on the edge of coming again. 

Without much thought, Ilya sank his teeth right into Shane’s exposed throat; his sharper canines broke through the skin, and Shane was moaning, deep and loud as he came all over them both. 

Ilya released his bite and groaned as Shane’s orgasm caused him to clamp down on his cock. He switched to a filthy, heavy grind, abusing his perfect angle to keep the pressure on Shane’s prostate. Shane cried out; the oversensitivity caused his cock to twitch and a few clear drops of come to coat the slit even as Shane shivered under him.  

A sudden, sharp pain in his throat had Ilya following him over the edge. Shane had reached up and, in retaliation, sunk his own sharper teeth into Ilya’s neck. The mix of pain, the tightening of Shane around him and the feeling of being claimed caused Ilya to climax hard. Despite being worn out and still trembling, Shane’s ass continued to milk his cock, squeezing and spasming around him until Ilya was totally spent and collapsing onto Shane’s chest. 

The purring soon started up. 

Ilya nuzzled into Shane’s pecs, the nipples still puffy and swollen from his earlier manhandling as he kissed them softly, half in apology and half because he couldn’t actually resist. 

It got him a tug on his curls. Shane was slowly carding a hand through them as they lay there. Ilya hadn’t pulled out, and Shane hadn’t moved to make him. Gold glittered from where Ilya was tracing little patterns on Shane’s sweaty skin, following his movements as the bond seemed to tighten around them. Ilya was convinced that this was making it stronger; he could feel more of Shane now. What had been a very light echo was a solid presence. 

 

Eventually, Ilya felt Shane start to shift uncomfortably under him, so he soothed a kiss to those swollen lips as Shane mewled sadly when he carefully pulled out. Ilya could feel his own come slide out as he did so, causing Shane to whine softly at the feeling. 

“Hmm, maybe I should put a plug in you next time, sweetheart. Would you like that?”    

Shane blushed, but tellingly didn’t deny that he would enjoy it. Ilya filed the information away for later use. He didn’t have anything suitable, and Shane had already been pushed past a limit they hadn’t tried before today. 

When he gathered up some of the liquid that was trickling down the inside of a silky, bruised thigh, he spotted Shane watching him from under his lashes. 

Gold still solidly ringed around his chocolate gaze as Ilya pressed his come back into the swollen, soaking hole with his finger. The muscles had been stretched enough that one finger wasn’t enough to stop his come from leaking back out, so he gathered up more and pressed two fingers inside. 

Shane sobbed at the touch to his sore, stretched hole, but still he opened his legs wider, giving Ilya a stunning view of just how ruined his mate currently looked, lying spread across his sheets, covered in his own copious amount of come. Bite marks littered his skin, and a golden glow surrounded his body. 

Ilya groaned softly. 

His cock was trying to stir at the sight; he could feel Shane’s ass fluttering weakly around his fingers, and even though they were both spent, exhausted and should have been well done by now, Shane’s cock was slowly plumping back up. 

Gold shimmered around them, and Ilya could now actually feel the bond. In the back of his mind, there was a distinct gold thread, where it had just been a vague mist at first. 

The bond was definitely influencing them because even with their usual quick recovery, this was not normal. Not that Ilya was complaining. No wonder these bonds were so coveted if this was just a snapshot of what could happen between them. 

Ilya lay across Shane’s legs, while keeping his fingers snugly inside Shane’s body. He would get a nice, soft plug, but for now, his fingers would work. Slowly, he pressed them in deep until he could put steady pressure on his mate’s prostate. 

Shane's hips gave a weak little twitch, and his pretty cock wept a tiny bit of clear fluid. Ilya wrapped his lips around the red, swollen head and took the half-hard cock easily to the root. A cry was torn from Shane’s throat, husky and raw, but the bond glowed brighter between them. Ilya kept his fingers still; he didn’t need to move them between the constant, steady pressure on his prostate and the warm, wet heat of Ilya’s mouth. Shane’s cock soon thickened to full hardness. 

Ilya held him in his throat. He worked the length of him at a steady, patient pace. Every few pulls with his mouth, he would just twist his fingers just enough to add a sharper bolt of pleasure. 

“Ilyusha…”

The sob of his name was scraped out of Shane’s throat as Ilya felt him rhythmically spasming around his fingers, and his cock gave a few warning pulses before Shane’s back was arching, and he was coming down Ilya’s throat. 

There wasn’t much, and it was a sweeter taste than normal; in fact, Ilya groaned at the burst of flavour as he greedily swallowed every drop. Reluctantly, he pulled back and lapped at the spent length of Shane’s cock, chasing the taste. 

Shane gave an unhappy whine when Ilya gently pulled his fingers out of his mate’s abused hole. The rim was a lovely bright red, and the now-empty channel was trying to pulse around the open and empty feeling.  Sparks of happy gold were scattered all around them as Ilya could almost see another thread wind itself into the ever-thickening rope. More and more threads were braiding themselves together in his mind.  

His own cock was hard again. The sweeter taste of Shane’s come on his tongue; having worked him up, he had intended to just make Shane come again, not himself, but apparently not. Shane was gone, eyes closed and body lax, so Ilya took himself in hand, using the fingers that had just been inside Shane to help ease the way. 

It didn't take much. Ilya was pretty far gone on the utterly ruined sight that was Shane. He was quick. A few hard, heavy pulls and a twist at the head had him dropping his head forward with a groan and coming all over Shane’s now spent cock, up to the slight curve of his stomach. 

He caught himself on a shaking arm before he crushed his tired mate. Then he brushed a soft kiss to those pretty lips before he lay his body down next to Shane. As soon as he was lying down, Shane curled into him and began that beautiful, deep purr. Ilya kissed him again, soft and tender. 

He lowered a hand to gently rub his cooling come into Shane’s soft skin, marking him in a very primal way that made the gold glow brighter around them. He spread the liquid across the soft mound, rubbing it into where his baby was curled up, safe and protected under his mate’s strength. 

Shane’s purring got louder. Ilya’s own rumble started up in response. The bond glowed a soft but bright gold all around them. Ilya murmured into Shane’s hair. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

He meant every word, from the depths of his soul. He was so thoroughly and irrevocably in love with this man. 

 

They must have dozed off for a bit, because Ilya was sticky and cool when he next opened his eyes. Shane was flat out, curled up against his chest and fast asleep. Ilya knew that his mate must be absolutely exhausted to be able to sleep through being sticky and cold like that, so he carefully extracted himself to go and collect a warm, damp cloth. 

As he moved, Shane whined softly and shifted. Ilya stilled. He really didn’t want to wake him just yet, so he leaned down and tenderly pressed a kiss to Shane’s forehead, soothing his hand down Shane’s hair to stroke softly at his cheek. Ilya felt Shane nuzzle into him sleepily, then settle into the warm spot where Ilya had just been lying.  

In the bathroom, Ilya soaked a soft cloth in warm, soapy water, then returned to very gently wipe Shane down. Ilya would make some warm food, then run a bath, but for now, this would do while he let Shane sleep a little. 

Soft, golden light glowed brighter around Shane once Ilya had put the cloth away and pulled the duvet back up over him. Shane got cold easily without Ilya in the bed, and one of the fastest ways to wake him was to let him get cold. 

He padded back to the bathroom and wiped himself down. He would get into the bath with Shane in a bit, but it was enough to put on a clean pair of sweats to cook in. 

They should have eaten earlier, but the bond apparently had other ideas, so Ilya would make something substantial that would make up for the missed meal. Something that Shane would eat but that would still have enough nutritional value. 

Ilya settled on a nice beef stir-fry with brown rice: he would use lean beef, since Shane wouldn't eat a lot of red meat, but it was very much needed at the moment. 

He made it with broccoli, carrots, and sweet potato; the more vegetables he put in, the happier Shane would be. Once the stir-fry was ready, he set it aside and put the rice cooker on. It would take a while, and it would give them time for a bath while it cooked. 

His hearing was still dialled up, so Ilya could hear Shane was still asleep, but his mate needed to eat, so he set the bath running and sat next to Shane’s still form on the bed. Ilya reached out and tenderly kissed Shane’s soft lips.

Chocolate eyes blinked slowly open as Ilya felt Shane sleepily kiss back with a little mewl of welcome. 

“Ilyusha.”

Ilya was in love with the way Shane said his name, the soft roll of his voice, the affection in every syllable. With soft, loving eyes, Shane reached for him. Ilya gladly scooped him up into his arms and cuddled him close as he carried him to the freshly run bath. 

Ilya carefully eased them both into the huge bathtub; he had added all of Shane’s favourite bath salts as well as pain reliever to the water. It would help to ease some of the soreness from their earlier activities, even if it wouldn’t take all of it away. 

Shane sighed softly as Ilya washed him, large hands gentle but sure in their movements on the tired, relaxed body. 

He lowered his head to kiss Shane’s shoulder as he rinsed the last of the expensive conditioner out of the silky strands. Shane had used the same scent since Ilya had first met him, a sea salt and citrus one. It was the scent Ilya reached for whenever their time apart got too much; it was the scent Ilya carried with him after every hook-up. 

He had bought the same ones soon after the first time Shane had allowed him near his bag, and he had seen the exact bottle. Occasionally, Ilya would just stand in the shower, taking in deep breaths of the scent, closing his eyes and remembering his last encounter with Shane.  

The familiar, soothing scent surrounded Ilya’s senses as he nuzzled into Shane’s neck to brush soft kisses across Shane’s wet skin. 

“How are you feeling, Lyubimyy?”

Ilya adjusted his arms around Shane’s waist to smooth a caress over the slight curve of his belly. The touch caused gold to spark up his arm and the bond to hum in the back of his head with happiness. 

A kiss was pressed to Ilya’s jaw as Shane turned in his lap. Ilya stroked his hands across the wet, warm skin as he tipped his head back to meet those stunning chocolate eyes. 

“Actually… Much better. A bit sore but a good sore.”

It was true. Ilya could feel it. 

Like, actually feel it resonating from golden strands that had taken up residence in the back of his mind. What had started as a light, misty haze of pale yellow was now a full, solid golden rope, a rope that was growing, that was adding strands and threads to itself all the time. 

Ilya could actively feel that Shane was feeling all manner of positive things right now, and it was making the bond sing with joy as Ilya tentatively poked a thick, glowing coil.    

Although the bond was awake and active, Ilya could feel the edge of aggression, the alertness fading back into the quiet. It was a different impression from the shimmering golden rope now than it had been earlier, before Ilya had felt the increase in his senses, the surge of protective, defensive anger that had fueled his own higher. 

Now it was steady, happy and calm, but still fully woven into the tapestry of his very soul with how much contentment was flooding them both. 

He could also feel just how hungry his mate was, even though he hadn’t said anything. Ilya noticed this before. Unless Shane was bulking or playing, he would ignore being hungry until it got too strong to ignore. Like he was used to ignoring the low-level hunger pangs, like he was used to forcing himself to work through it. 

Ilya could guess the blame lay in the unfathomably strict diet that the Voyageurs had enforced on Shane from the moment he had been drafted. Ilya bit down on the fury, the anger that was not directed at Shane, but instead at the treatment Shane had been suffering through as he got them both dried off and dressed in clean, soft clothes. 

Even Ilya’s skin was sensitive right now, which meant that Shane’s sensitivity would already be through the roof, as his was so easily irritated. He made sure to use the softest towel and lightest of touches as Shane leaned into him, eyes half-mast and that delectable purr sounding again. 

“Food now, Lyubimyy, both of you need to eat.”  

Shane gave a soft noise of agreement and let Ilya sweep him back up into his arms. Walking was going to be down to a minimum for a day or so, even with Shane’s impressive healing speed. 

Especially as the bond was seemingly more than happy not to speed up that particular area, if the wince and shift Shane was doing when he was set down on a cloud-soft pillow at the table to eat. Ilya would have happily let him eat in bed or on the sofa, but he also knew that Shane didn’t like having to do that and would prefer to eat at the table.

Ilya watched as Shane ate. A primal need to see his mate sated, round and fed was battling with Ilya’s own human side, only it wasn’t putting up much of a fight. The human side of Ilya was just as enamoured with that image as the feral, bond-influenced side.  

Only once he was satisfied that Shane had eaten enough did he touch his own plate, too distracted and entranced by Shane to remember that he, too, was starving and had used a lot of energy in the last few hours. 

Shane wrapped his leg around Ilya’s under the table, and the contact sent a cascade of golden sparks dancing around them. Ilya looked at Shane. His mate was glowing again, a soft, ethereal edge that made him look like something out of a fae forest. 

“So pretty.”

It had slipped out, but Ilya meant it. He always meant it. Shane was the prettiest, had the most stunning constellations of freckles Ilya had ever laid eyes on, and his eyes were worth drowning in a thousand times over. 

The blush that bloomed across those tanned cheeks only made the freckles stand out more. Ilya leaned over and ran his thumb across the sweep of bone under each eye, relishing Shane’s automatic lean into the touch. His purr started up again at Ilya’s touch and closeness. 

 

Once he was happy that Shane was full and had drunk both the smoothie and a full glass of water, he eased his sleepy, sated mate back into his arms to be carried over to the sofa. As Shane settled, he ran a hand down Ilya’s bare chest in a soft caress before looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes. The ring of gold still glittered around the chocolate, which made them all the more devastating as far as Ilya was concerned.

“Can you find the books that Gloria gave us, please, Ilyusha?”

The sweet, honeyed tone of his name was enough to melt Ilya, even without the eyes and the pouty bottom lip that Shane was wielding. It wasn't like Ilya would have said no regardless, but still, Ilya’s poor heart couldn't take much more of this.   

He braced himself with one muscular arm behind Shane’s shoulder as he leaned down to capture that pouty lip into his mouth. With no mercy, Ilya sucked and nipped at the offending pout until Shane was moaning and opening up for him. 

The bond hummed happily as Ilya dragged his tongue across the bruise his sharper canines had left, and Shane reached up to tangle his hands into Ilya’s curls, across the back of his neck and to anchor himself on Ilya’s shoulders. 

Shane dug his claws in when Ilya went to ease back; the hiss was a warning noise as Ilya felt the sting of his hair in that strong grip being pulled. He followed that grip and deepened the kiss. 

It was gentler than the rougher treatment attested to, but Ilya managed to slow Shane down. He brushed their lips together in a caress of light touches, and he nuzzled tenderly against his mate’s mouth with his own. He could feel Shane’s end of the bond relax, could feel the corresponding ease in Shane when Ilya drew back to look down at him. 

“I will be right back, Lyubimyy.”

This time, Shane let him slip out of his hold to go and collect the requested books. While he was at it, Ilya quickly found the books that he had brought with him from Russia. The spines were cracked and well-used, as the three of them had scoured the scant information for every useful scrap they could find back then. 

Sasha had been devastated. A level four was nothing; all it had given him was grief and pain until they had got him out. Whereas Shane was a level ten. From what Ilya could recall, there wasn't much other than hearsay and rumour about the diamond rare levels even in the books, but he would check back through just in case. 

Shane had made a nest in the few minutes he was gone. One of the butter-soft fleece blankets from the back of the sofa had been pulled down, and his mate had arranged the cushions to support his lower back and thighs since putting pressure on the well-used muscles was still painful. At the sight of him, Shane smiled softly. The bond thrummed with a flood of warmth from Shane’s end that almost had Ilya stumbling from the strength of it when he felt it. 

He placed the books within reaching distance before he turned back to Shane’s nest, wordless, waiting for permission to touch. Ilya felt the tingling of pure adoration that whispered along a golden thread at his pause, at his silent question for permission, even though Shane granted it instantly and was even reaching hands out for him before he had even fully turned. 

“Come here, Ilyusha.”

Ilya was wrapping Shane back up in his arms before his mate had finished the command. His own chest let out that deeper, lower rumble in answer to Shane’s softer purr. Gold brightened around them again as Ilya manoeuvred them so Shane was half lying in his lap, half against his chest, draped like an oversized cat.  

Once Ilya was satisfied that Shane wasn't in too much discomfort and was nicely settled, he picked up the book that Gloria had sent with them. 

“This is the one Gloria sent. Shall we start here?”

Shane tilted his head to press a quick kiss to Ilya’s jaw and nuzzle into his shoulder for a moment before he lay back and took the book. Ilya watched a little puzzled until he realised what Shane wanted. Shane was holding the book up, and his arms had left a gap over his lower belly. 

The fact that Shane hadn’t spoken, hadn’t needed to, was not lost on Ilya. The bond was open and humming softly in the back of his head, but he wasn't experiencing any flashes of anger or aggression. Instead, he was getting a constant, steady stream of emotions from Shane’s end of the golden rope. Gossamer-thin strands were winding gently down the length to tie themselves into thicker, less delicate braids every time they touched. 

Ilya snaked his hands up the oversized T-shirt his mate was wearing, his hands splayed across the very slight curve of Shane’s abdomen. He stroked the still visible lines of muscle and the barely there swell of their child nestled safely inside. 

More golden threads tightened themselves around the biggest strand of rope of the bond in Ilya’s head. In his mind’s eye, he could see the strands forming a slightly thicker braid that was entwining itself into the main strand in the centre. 

Shane cracked the book open and began to read aloud, Ilya more than content to listen to that smooth, sweet voice rather than have to fight the English words on the paper. 

 

A high-level Carrier’s bond between him and his chosen Sire is always unique. No two bonds are the same. Suffice it to say that as an MCE in training, you will have to learn to adapt and change your treatment plans depending on the types of bonds you come across. 

In this text, you will be given detailed descriptions of the known higher-level types of bonds. 

Even though they are all different, all level eight and above are recorded to form a chemical and supernatural bond between the Carrier and the Sire. The strength of these bonds depends on the compatibility score of the pairing as well as the nature of their bond. 

A bond will be based on the main defining aspect of when the pair first bonded. Often, that comes from the imprint that the Carrier first made on his chosen mate. For some, it is emotional; for others, it is a verbal connection. The rarer ones are physical and sexual in nature. The reason these are rarer is not fully known, and many of our data points are speculation for these types of bonds, but the few sexual bonds that have been observed are the ones with the strongest Carriers. 

A level 9 Carrier with a sexual bond to a Sire with a compatibility score of 91% had a much higher rate of healing and quicker recovery after giving birth. They also reported a permanent increase in sex drive as well as shorter refractory periods after the bond was fully formed.  

Some emotional bonds have been reported to be able to convey each other’s emotions over short distances apart, and the Sire could better read his mate’s needs after the bond was fully formed. 

How to tell when a bond is fully formed?

Well, the basic answer is YOU can’t. Only the pair can. A Carrier will know when the bond is close to completion because they will feel it, but not all Sires do. If they have a high compatibility score, then the Sire will be able to tell to some degree, but it is unknown exactly how accurate this is for Sires with a lower-level mate. 

A physical bond is not as rare as a sexual one, but it is still one of the more uncommon manifestations. This kind of bond is usually heavier on the Carrier’s end, which is why it is rarer. The only recorded cases have been when the Carrier’s level is above eight, but the compatibility score was lower than 75% with their chosen Sire. This can mean that there is an imbalance in the pairing. If you find yourself dealing with this kind of bond, then you need to be mindful of any extra strain on the Carrier during a pregnancy. 

A pregnant Carrier is a dangerous one. Most Carriers are far stronger than their chosen mates. A high-level Carrier that is under any sort of threat, especially physical, while pregnant will attack. Sometimes, even family is not safe. A threat can be anything that the Carrier has deemed an active danger to himself or his baby. Some Carriers will also include the mate in this instinct; it depends on the bond type and strength.   

When a bond goes both ways, it means that the Sire receives some of the enhancements that the Carrier has, but true mirrored bonds are currently just a theory. No registered pair has a bond strong enough to mirror abilities and instincts enough to display physical characteristic changes in the Sire. These are the changes that a Carrier can experience when their instincts flare. 

An instinct flare can happen for several reasons. Each Carrier has different trigger points. Some are emotions, high or low in emotional state, that can trigger the changes. Most are fight-or-flight triggered, no matter the level. This is universal across Carriers. A threat to the Carrier or the baby will cause a manifestation to occur. 

The length of a Carrier’s pregnancy can be as short as 7 months for a high level, but that is not always the case. However, all Carriers will only show a little compared to a female body. This is because of the biological position of the sack in a Carrier. It is both lower and further behind the muscle wall. The fitter a Carrier is, the less he will show. 

The Carrier, if above level three, will be able to produce milk and breastfeed their baby, which will help with getting rid of any extra weight the Carrier may have gained, as well as help to form a bond with the newborn. The higher the level of the Carrier, it is theorised that the more milk they can produce, but it has yet to have sufficient data at the higher end of the scale to be proven. 

 

Ilya’s hand had been stroking in an absentminded pattern on the little curve in Shane’s lower belly as he listened. Shane had been translating the more technical words into Russian without even really seeming to think about it, and Ilya was a little bit hot and bothered by his mate’s competency in his native language, but he squashed that thought down quickly. Shane was not up for anything more, and he would not hurt his mate. 

There was a lot more information than the sparse paragraphs in the books he had acquired in Russia, or even when he had arrived here in Boston. 

The bond hummed a bit louder. Ilya cocked his head and focused inwardly for a moment; a tremor was running through one of the thicker braids to the left of the centermost and thickest one. He tentatively touched the one that was trembling. A spark of worry leaked from it at his touch. Ilya followed it along a bit further; there, about halfway down, was a dark, almost black thread that was trying to force its way into the braid with the glowing gold. 

Ilya flicked his wrist out, quick as a flash; he had the squirming, thrashing thread in his metaphorical hand. In his powerful grip, the thread snapped. As soon as it did, the gold glowed brighter in response. The dark piece disintegrated, and Ilya felt Shane relax again, both in his arms and here in their bond. 

“Lyubimyy, what were you just feeling?”

Shane tipped his head back and looked up at Ilya with beautiful but worried eyes. 

“This is a lot of guesswork, Ilyusha and most of it isn’t near a bond like ours. Let alone me being a level ten. A ten isn't even mentioned here. There is one nine, and that’s vague enough.”

This was what had caused the darkened thread. Shane was spiralling, and the bond was reacting to his emotional state. Ilya soothed him with his hands and his mouth. He kissed Shane’s hair and rubbed his hand in a circular pattern on his stomach as he slowly felt the tension drain from Shane’s body and the bond. 

A wave of exhaustion drifted across as gold flickers danced between where Ilya’s hand was cradling Shane’s bare stomach. He shifted his arms to get them under Shane more securely and then, in one powerful motion of his core and thighs, he stood with Shane in his arms.  

“We will learn as we go, Shane. We are both smart; Gloria will transfer, and you can make sure that you document everything. Da. Okay?”  

Shane snuggled into his chest but nodded in agreement. More importantly, the gold glowed brighter, and Shane’s end of the bond had relaxed into calm, soft and still again. 

Ilya had a few of his own theories, but he would need to write a few things out and get Shane to tell him a bit about how he was experiencing his end of the bond, to see if they were the same, but not now. Shane was almost asleep in his arms, and he, too, was tired.  

He was grateful for the foresight of changing the bedding earlier because Ilya was dead on his feet by the time he had gotten them both settled for the night, earlier than normal, but honestly, neither of them seemed to mind.  

In fact, Shane was curled closer, trying to burrow into Ilya’s chest and wrap his thick thighs around Ilya’s waist to turn him so he was lying across Shane like a weighted blanket. Ilya, who had already known what Shane was after, had easily let his mate manoeuvre him where he wanted him. 

He brushed a light kiss to Shane’s lips, then his cheeks and finally to the little curve of his belly. Golden light bathed them both as the bond flared at the contact. Ilya smiled and lay down; he happily rested his head in the juncture of Shane’s throat and closed his eyes. 

Warm, strong hands carded through his hair as Shane settled with Ilya’s weight on top of him. 

Shane’s voice was quiet, but Ilya felt it through the bond as much as he heard it. 

“I love you, Ilyusha. Thank you.”

Ilya melted and lifted his head to kiss his mate on those tempting lips before he dropped back down to his comfy chest pillows.

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

The room glowed golden, as, unknown to Ilya and Shane, their bond made the first of three changes. The three separate golden ropes all began to combine; they twisted, they knotted, and then they settled again. One bigger, stronger braid now right in the centre, thrumming happily in a bright golden glow.

Happy sparks danced along their bare skin as they slept. Relishing the newly gained strength and fortitude of the bond. 

Chapter 7: The Mistake

Chapter Notes

Sorry about the wait, but they fought me a lot at the start of this chapter. Ilya did not want to leave.

Let me know what you think. Enjoy :)

If you want a picture reference for the end part of this chapter, then go to the Pictures part of Secrets.

Shane knew he was being unfair to his mate. 

Ilya had to leave; he had already skipped a practice that he really shouldn’t have, and had gotten a very unimpressed rant from his Coach about it, but that didn’t make watching him get ready for an overnight any easier. 

The bond was crackling under his skin, not angry, not in a threatened way, but certainly not happy either. The gold liquid inside his pattern was churning and roiling against the edges, not spilling over but making Shane more than aware it was not pleased. Shane honestly wasn’t sure how they were going to cope with being apart again so soon after his stint of bondsickness. There had been a lot of information about different types of bondsickness in the Russian book that Ilya had brought with him. 

Ilya was standing by the wardrobe, folding his clothes into his bag; his movements were stiff, and his shoulders were tense, but Shane could feel the dark cloud of both worry and frustration that was emanating from Ilya’s end of the bond. 

“I’m sorry.”

Shane dropped his gaze to his hands and sighed softly. He hadn't meant to snap earlier and still felt bad. None of this was Ilya’s fault, and his mate had already gotten into trouble after missing the practice when they had first returned to Ilya’s home from the hospital.   

He felt a large, warm hand hook gently under his chin, and Ilya tipped his head back up and made him look into those stormy, gold-ringed, blue eyes.

“Ah nyet. None of that now, Lyubimyy.”

Shane could feel Ilya’s end of the bond soften at the same moment their eyes met; his own roiling golden lake calmed instantly, too, and he sagged slightly into Ilya’s firm hold. 

He didn’t know how to put what he was feeling into words; he didn’t want a foot of space between them, never mind Ilya being away overnight. They had just about coped with the home games because Ilya had exhausted Shane to the point of him sleeping through most of the time apart. Physically, they hadn’t been that far apart either, not since Ilya had come to him, not since the almost fatal miscarriage. 

Ilya’s hand came up around his jaw and stroked softly at the sharp edge. Shane closed his eyes and let out a low, gentle purr at the touch. Gold flecks began to flicker to life along his skin as the bond stirred. 

Shane knew he would have to let Ilya go; he was the Bears' Captain, and he was a damn fucking good one. He couldn’t play, but one of them should, and Shane was hungry to watch his fantastic mate heft that cup, but while the logical, hockey-obsessed part of his brain was running all the numbers and statistics, the instinct-driven, hormone-soaked other half was screaming at him to dig his claws in and not to let go. 

Shane reached up and hooked his hands around Ilya’s neck to pull him down and kiss him. The rumbling growl he got in response as his mate deepened the kiss had a heat spike under his skin. This was a really bad idea, but then Ilya’s hands snaked around his waist under the big, soft hoodie he was wearing, and Shane was gone. 

He moaned at the heavy, hot squeeze to his hips and then the hands sliding down into his boxers and lifting him by his ass. Automatically, he wrapped his legs around those sturdy hips and trim waist.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”

The deep, velvet rumble of Russian licked at his senses. Shane loved hearing Ilya’s natural voice, the way it lit up parts of his brain that always went straight to heating desire in his veins. They didn't have a lot of time, but Shane wasn't able to let Ilya go without something more. The surface of his mindscape glowed a brighter gold in agreement as the bond thrummed happily. 

Ilya lowered him to their bed, and Shane arched up into the solid, muscular weight of his mate above him. He let out a soft mewl of pleasure as their rapidly hardening cocks rubbed together. Ilya ground down, and Shane tightened his thighs around the top of Ilya’s thick legs to keep him there. 

He could feel the way his core was flexing, the way his muscles were spasming around nothing; the desperate, needy feeling of wanting to be filled, be taken and claimed was crawling up his spine.

“Please… Ilyusha… I want you.”

He was too used to using Russian to beg now; the language flowed so much easier the more he used it. The dark, heated flash it got from Ilya’s beautiful blue eyes didn’t hurt either. 

Shane knew they had to be quick, but he was still stretched and open from the last time; he felt like he wanted to just sit on Ilya’s cock at all times at the moment. Like his body didn’t want to function unless it was sated and full. He groaned when he felt those thick, strong fingers that were suddenly pressed up against his twitching rim. The cool, slick feeling of the fresh lube was almost soothing to the slightly sore muscles.  

Ilya didn’t take his time. Shane felt it as his mate pressed two fingers into him at the same time as he leaned down and fastened his mouth around one swollen nipple. Shane shuddered at the dual sensations: his chest being extremely sensitive, and Ilya lapping and sucking until Shane was digging his now extended claws into those lovely, thick curls. 

The rumbling growl that Ilya let out as Shane tugged on his curls made his cock throb and his hole clenched around the thick fingers that were stretching him open. He didn’t need it; he was ready; he wanted to feel Ilya, feel the soreness and lingering stretch for the days that Ilya was away. 

“Now, Ilyusha.”

Shane hissed. He pulled his top lip back and bared his sharpened teeth at his mate. 

Ilya snarled back at him, equally sharp teeth exposed, and the heavier, stronger weight of his mate pushed him back down. The large hand wrapped around his throat and pressed him into the pillows. Shane strained up against both the weight and the hold, but Ilya wouldn't move.    

Those blue eyes were ringed with gold as Ilya leaned down and kissed him, teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and Shane moaned at the slightly rougher treatment. His cock twitched, and more beads of pearly, warm pre-come trickled out of his slit. 

Shane tried again to line Ilya’s cock up and get him to push inside, but he was stopped. Ilya’s voice was a rough snarl as his legs were pushed wide and up against his chest by those huge, strong hands. 

“You will take what I give you.”

He threw his head back and moaned as Ilya rubbed the hard, hot length of his cock in between his ass cheeks. Shane writhed and tried to get the thick head to slide inside, but Ilya shifted his weight and pinned him more heavily to still his movement. 

Shane hissed and dug his claws in harder, but Ilya stilled and looked down at him, those stunning dark blue eyes ablaze with heat. Shane could feel the immense, burning desire down the bond, but he also knew his mate wouldn’t move till he obeyed. He pouted, drawing that gaze to his bitten, swollen lip and widened his eyes to make them as large as possible, but finally lay still. 

That deeper, darker purr rumbled out of Ilya’s chest as his obedience was rewarded by the feeling of that huge, thick cock pressing into him. Shane’s eyes closed, and he dropped his head back with a mewl at the stretch, the heavy, hot pressure as Ilya thrust inside. 

Fuck.

Shane’s vision was gold and hazy. He felt so full, so claimed. 

The stretch was almost at the point of not enough, even with how open he had already been, but god, he could feel the pleasure building in his core, of feeling how his muscles softened, opened around Ilya’s cock. 

He whimpered as Ilya’s hips settled into the cradle of his thighs, finally all the way inside. He was given no break. Ilya drew his hips back, the thick, heavy slide of his cock rubbing against Shane’s quivering, sensitive walls with every movement as Ilya set a fast pace, snapping his powerful hips forward with all the coiled strength of that sculpted body. 

A low, rumbling growl thrummed through that chest as Shane clenched his ass around the cock pounding into his prostate with every thrust. Ilya hitched one of his legs up higher and leaned down to kiss him. Shane opened his mouth and sucked on that devilish tongue until he got Ilya to groan and pull back just enough that they were breathing for each other more than kissing.  

Shane felt his orgasm; it coiled up his belly, and his cock throbbed with it as he turned his head slightly and, as his vision blacked out, his body tensed, and pleasure flooded every inch of him. He sank his teeth right into Ilya’s throat. 

High and deep, Shane sank his canines into the line of heated muscle right under Ilya’s jaw. The skin broke, and he tasted a sweet, coppery tang that made his cock twitch and a little more come coat his spent length as the sudden feeling had Ilya snarling and losing control as he came from Shane’s bite. 

He moaned at the copious amount of hot, thick come Ilya was emptying into him; his muscles fluttered and tried to milk more from his mate, but they were both pretty spent by now. 

 

Shane collapsed back and let his sore, shaking thighs drop down and wrap softly around Ilya’s legs. He held his mate warm and heavy on top of him. Gold glowed all around them as Shane could feel the bond bright and singing between them, more lines spreading out from his pattern and Ilya’s rope growing stronger with every entwined gold thread. 

A large hand gently cupped his jaw, and Ilya pressed soft kisses to his lips as they both panted and fought to come down from that intensity. 

Shane lifted his head and carefully licked at the little beads of blood in the already bruised bite mark. There would be no hiding it, and Shane didn't want there to be. His end of the bond glowed a little brighter at his smug thoughts; the molten gold flowed happily into the newly carved lines as Shane soothed the painful teeth marks. 

His purr had started up again, and he was rubbing his cheek and neck across every bit of Ilya he could reach from where his mate collapsed on top of him, his own deeper, rougher purr resonating with his own. 

Scenting and spreading more of his own claim on top of all the lines of scratches he had left, some were actually deep enough to have drawn blood. He had left a pattern of bites and bruises all over Ilya’s pale, mole-dotted skin. 

Ilya eased himself up, and despite the tired, needy whine Shane gave, he allowed his bigger mate to get up. He had already made him late, and Ilya really did need to leave. Shane had to let him. He watched as Ilya quickly washed himself down and threw on the clothes he had put out nearly an hour ago. 

“Nyet, sweetheart, don’t look like that. Please.”

Shane opened his eyes and carefully sat up; a slight twinge went up his spine as he did so, but it was the good, well-used soreness that Shane knew he would be feeling for a day or so. He would do some of his stretches once Ilya had left, which would free up his muscles and stop it from becoming more than just the pleasant ache of a reminder. 

Ilya stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers, and Shane’s eyes fluttered shut at the gentle touch. Gold glittered across his skin where Ilya was petting him. 

“I need to go, Lyubimyy.”

Shane nodded and wrapped his arms around that lean waist. He rested his head on those chiselled abs; even through the fitted undershirt Ilya had pulled over his curls, he could feel the strength of his mate.     

He had to fight against the rising irritation in the bond to let go, but he managed it. Ilya kissed him again, and Shane purred softly at the touch. Ilya stepped back, and Shane had to bite into his own lip hard enough to taste a pinprick of blood to let him pick up his bag. 

“Yes. Ilyusha. I love you. Now go.”    

Ilya swung his bag over his shoulder and leaned down again. Shane reached up to meet him and brushed his lips against his mate’s. Then, with a huge effort, Shane placed his hands on Ilya’s flanks and nudged him towards the door. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu”

Shane eased his hands away, and Ilya hefted his bag higher and turned. The bond thrummed but stayed quiet; he could feel that all Ilya’s raging anger and frustration were back, but Shane knew it wasn't directed at him, but at their situation. 

Before he stepped away, Ilya pressed his hand to the softened, very slight curve of his belly. That now familiar warmth and glow filled his stomach as his mate cradled where their baby lay. Then he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to where his hand had just been. The bond flared a bright, pleased gold.

He mewled softly at the touch and very nearly begged, actually begged Ilya to stay, but he swallowed down the impulse and instead dug his claws into the sheets to stop himself from reaching out. 

“Go win for both of us, Ilyusha.”    

Ilya nodded; the bond glowed and flared between them, but Ilya finally straightened and quietly left the house. Shane listened for the distinctive sound of the gate, his hearing dialled up through the distressed bond. 

Ilya would leave his car at the rink and get the bus to the airport with his team; they would only be away for two days and nights, but Shane was already dreading it. 

Silence. 

Shane didn't move at first. 

The bond shimmered and swirled sadly; the liquid gold rivulets inside his pattern were sluggish and slow, the usually bright golden glimmer had dimmed, and Shane now couldn't make out the far edges of the carving. 

Ilya’s huge, sturdy rope was coiled in the middle, no longer making smooth, looping circles around the surface. Shane reached out with a soft touch and stroked it down the golden length. It perked up under his touch, but still stayed wrapped in a tight coil. 

Shane opened his eyes. 

The gold stayed in the very corners of his vision, but it was dimmer and quieter than it had been since it had gotten this strong. He could feel a soft little flutter down low in his belly, both calming and soothing his frazzled nerves.

He soothed a hand across his belly, the answering surge of warmth a comfort to them both. 

“There, there, little one. Your Papa will be home soon.”

It was the first time that Shane had spoken aloud to his baby, but he found he rather liked it. The bond flickered lighter again at the flush of warmth in his belly, then he suddenly got a brighter, happier note from Ilya’s end.

Shane roused himself and padded into the shower; the warm water helped with the lingering soreness, and Shane felt better once all the accumulated sweat and dried come was washed down the drain. 

Once he had dried himself off and dressed in some of Ilya’s bigger workout clothes, he ran through a few of his yoga routines that helped with the soreness and used feeling in his muscles, but he could still feel the pleasant ache deep in his body that reminded him of Ilya inside of him. He wanted to keep that ache at least until his mate had returned and could cause it again. 

He put on the TV, just for the quiet background noise as he heated up some of the food Ilya had left in the fridge. The bond glowed a little brighter as Shane felt the warm, pleased nudge from Ilya’s end as Shane enjoyed the food he had made. 

It made Ilya’s side of the bond very happy to feed Shane; he had discovered. The primal, instinct-based part was very determined to get him round and fat. Shane was pretty sure he wasn’t meant to want to roll over and present at the feeling, but he did. 

Now all Shane had to do was get through the next two nights and a day. It shouldn't be this difficult; he had managed for years alone after all, but somehow it now felt like one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. 

 

Ilya was away overnight for this game. This was the second day alone. The bond was humming softly in the back of his mind, not yet bothered by the distance between them, but Shane could feel Ilya’s presence. 

His wide expanse of ice was cool and calm, bathed in a golden glow that illuminated all the swirls and curves, which were still sitting like rivers of liquid gold. Ilya had described his mindscape as a golden rope, with threads that entwine and continue to grow. Whereas his end was a huge sheet of ice, the surface fresh and smooth; however, there was a growing pattern cut into the centre. 

As their bond was growing, so was his pattern. Inside each cut was what could be described as flowing, liquid gold that glowed as it moved in an endless loop around the design. The deepest grooves were right in the middle, two entwined shapes that were becoming clearer the stronger the bond got, with more lines being added to create some sort of image.  

Shane liked to watch the flow of the gold through the pattern; as long as it was calm and slow, then the bond was happy, and it meant that Ilya was happy. When the bond got riled, the liquid got darker and spilt over, obscuring both the pattern and the ice until it was calmed again. Shane could feel Ilya. His mate’s emotions were starting to bleed through all the time now, as was his voice. 

That was a new development, and for now it was only the faintest of whispers, but Shane had heard him, had heard Ilya missing him, wanting to be home and still being very, very angry with Cliff Marlow. 

Shane kept sending soothing calmness from his ice down the shimmering golden light that sat right in the centre, linking them. He wasn’t sure he had gotten it right just yet, but his ice glowed brighter every time, so Shane took it as encouragement. 

His mind was running a mile a minute, mainly about his mother. He had managed to keep his thoughts away from that particular topic since the hospital, but now, alone, it was all coming flooding back. 

A gentle, firm nudge from the bond startled Shane out of his spiralling thoughts. It curbed the rising anger and soothed his hurt with its gentle touch. Ilya’s distinctive deep rumble seemed to resonate through their connection. Shane cocked his head to one side and listened. It came again. 

“Lyubimyy” 

Shane was pretty sure this time that he could hear Ilya’s voice, but it was still faint and not all that clear. From what they had read, especially in the books that Gloria had sent,  their bond looked like it was a mix of different kinds. Shane hated not knowing, but they really were in true unknown territory here. Gloria had been very firm on that. 

The bond hummed softly with another pulse of warmth and love from Ilya’s end, and Shane sent his own back; some of the dimmed sections of his ice glowed a little bit before dimming again. 

He was a bit worried about why their mindscape had lost so much light, but he supposed it could be the distance. Since he was alone and had nothing better to do, Shane grabbed his laptop and began to document everything that had happened since Ilya had come to him in the hospital. 

Gloria had said she had no data, and maybe between the three of them, they could work out some of what to expect in the future, since Shane was now aware of the fact that if his baby was a boy, the statistics were very much that he would be a high-level Carrier too. Shane wanted his children to have more to go on than they currently had.

Anger swelled up inside him at the thought, once again, that his mother had known. He placed a hand on his belly, and the softest of flutters under his hand had gold, glittery sparks dancing between his fingers. 

He couldn't imagine why. He had always thought his mother loved him; it hadn’t been something he had doubted when he was younger. They had been in a few rough patches recently, but Shane had bitten his lip, stamped down on his frustration, and was hurt because she was only trying her best for him. Or that was what he had thought. 

Now he didn't know, and it hurt.  

She had pushed so hard for him to get back with Rose, and yet she knew, had known all his life, that he was only ever going to be attracted to men. Gloria had said it. Plain as anything. 

“When someone is referred to as a Carrier, it means they are sexually attracted only to men and biologically male in presentation, but they have a very rare genetic quirk. It means they have the means of getting pregnant.”  

It was in all the basic books he had found. In fact, it was the first passage in three of the books Shane had picked up. As well as the Russian ones, even if those had been a bit more derogatory than the American or Canadian versions, he had found. 

His mother had to have known. 

She would have looked it up like he had. There was no way she hadn’t, but that thought just made him both hurt and furious. He would not be speaking to her anytime soon. Even the thought of seeing her, scenting her, was making his claws unsheath and flex against his thighs, and he could feel his sharper teeth once again digging into his bottom lip.    

The bond gave a shiver. Shane focused back internally, only to feel like he was being enveloped in strong, sturdy arms. The dull, listless gold had flickered back into life, and Shane could suddenly feel all of Ilya around him, trying to shield him from his own darker thoughts.  

“Shane. Lyubimyy. I am here. Come back to me now.”

This time, Shane could actually hear Ilya. 

It was quiet, faint in the way, as if over a long distance, but this time Shane could actually make out the individual words. He wasn't sure if his own reply got through, but he tried anyway. 

“I’m here, Ilyusha. I'm here.”    

A light, single, delicate thread snaked its way down from the thick, but still muted rope, which brushed against the very centre of his pattern, causing a chain reaction of ripples through the nearly still molten gold that usually circled in a river-like flow.  

Shane smoothed a tender touch down the outside of a coil as the golden glimmer dulled down again. He missed Ilya. A sad little ripple in his belly made him drop his hand and rub absentmindedly across the soft curve; the ripples warmed at his touch, and Shane shifted his clothes. The stiff, fitted waistband of his boxers was pinching at his sensitive skin just enough to annoy him as he made a few more notes in his new spreadsheet. This would at least keep him occupied for a bit.    

 

Shane was soon bored again. He had exhausted his lists and data points to add to his new spreadsheet, as well as done more yoga than he knew Gloria would approve of, but he was not used to this sort of forced inactivity; even on his summer break, he was usually at his cottage. Normally, his parents were there, even if he wasn’t in the right headspace to see or speak to his mother right now. 

He would usually have skated daily still, when at his cottage in his custom-built rink. It wasn’t even that he was unhappy. Surprisingly, he was happier than he ever really remembered being. Living with Ilya was easy. Far easier than he had ever imagined, and there had been a few fleeting thoughts about it over the years. This bit of separation was not ideal, nor was the peculiar way their bond had almost gone quiescent inside his head, but that didn’t mean Shane was regretting coming to Boston with his mate. Just the opposite, actually.  

For all that, they were very different; they somehow fit together in a way that didn’t chafe at Shane’s very regimented routines. Ilya understood how he thought, how his brain processed in a way no one else had ever bothered to try; even his mother hadn’t, not really. 

She just assumed that Shane could confirm with her own methods, and that would be enough, since they worked for her; they would work for him. It had been a point of contention between them recently, driving a wedge of resentment and anger on Shane’s end and frustration on hers. That had not helped with his feelings on this whole ‘lying to him’ situation either.  

However, that was not the case with his mate. Shane could read Ilya; maybe it was the result of their years-long obsession with each other, but Shane had been collecting every tiny fragment of Ilya since he had first laid eyes upon the broad-shouldered, already well-built, 17-year-old. Of course, now he knew it was the start of an imprint, at least on his end.  

That obsession had translated into a unique knowledge of each other; it was no wonder Shane had imprinted, not really. Just because Shane hadn’t known what it was that made Ilya different, what made him sit up and take notice of the Russian, it hadn’t done anything to stop the process. Shane would do it all again; even if he had known, he would choose Ilya over and over. In every lifetime. 

 

Shane was still alone. He felt better physically; it had taken a few days for the bond to repair itself after he had first arrived; those had been an interesting way to spend nearly 48 hours. Bond drunk, that was how Ilya had described him. The backlash from the bond and from his own Carrier DNA had been working overtime to fix the damage both he and their baby had sustained.   

He had spent hours poring over the books and trawling through the internet to gather all the information on bonds he could. The spreadsheet was growing; even when he wasn’t sure if the information was viable, he put it on a separate tab to ask Gloria when he next had an appointment. 

When he had been concussed, he had remembered thinking that most of it would be shite, and he had been correct, but there were a few little corners of the internet that had a few rather strange but some sweet ideas of what a bond was. They were wildly incorrect, but still, it was weirdly sweet to read.

The Russian books were clearly outdated now, but Shane had only been working his way through them as practice for reading the language. He was now limited in what his exercise routine could contain until his weight was higher. Gloria had told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to overdo it until his weight was within a parameter that she was happy with. Unfortunately, that left Shane with way too much time on his hands once again. There was only so much Yoga that even he could stomach. 

A side effect of his eating better was that he was rapidly putting on weight, and he had now noticed the slight swell in his lower belly. His abs were still there, but the lower part had a curve that he could feel. It was very sensitive, and one thing Shane had become annoyed at was the feeling of the tight band of his boxers. He had noticed it the day before, but today it was even worse. Since they were not designed to sit on this type of curve, the elastic dug painfully into him after a while. He had attempted to solve the problem by simply stealing one of Ilya’s larger pairs, but those were uncomfortable, too.  

Shane was pretty damn sure he could not be the only male Carrier to encounter this problem, so once he had exhausted his limit on Yoga, the exercise bike and the limited weights he was allowed to lift in the home gym, he settled onto the sofa with a mug of the lovely ginger tea Ilya had gotten him and his laptop. 

He soon found that there were actually specialist websites with clothes and underwear designed for Male Carriers. They were not cheap, and most were rather explicit in nature. They were advertised to come with recorded and discreet same-day or next-day delivery, depending on where you were ordering them from; however, since he hadn’t bothered to look before, having not needed anything, he discovered that there was, in fact, an outlet nearby, actually in Boston. 

The fact that he was happier wearing Ilya’s larger everyday clothes more than his own since he had moved meant he hadn’t bothered much about looking for any paternity options for Male Carriers; the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. His heightened sense of smell made it so he now had a preference for stealing all of Ilya’s clothes, particularly after his mate had worn them for a bit, so that his distinctive scent had permeated into the fabric. Shane liked to nuzzle into that scent; he would take deep, calming lungfuls of it throughout the day when Ilya had finally been forced to attend practice. 

There were a few standard-looking sets of boxers and briefs that he ordered, with a different, less rigid style of waistband and in various materials. As he was on the checkout page, there was a first-order “starter box set” that could be added for a discount since it was his first-ever order. The description was pretty vague, but it just sounded like they were slightly fancier versions of what he had picked, so he accepted. The price of the box was low for the number of items listed inside, and Shane could already feel the blush across his cheeks from some of the things he had scrolled past. He wasn't brave enough to look any further, and this seemed like a less embarrassing solution. 

 

When the order arrived early the next day, the day Ilya was due home, Shane was surprised by the sheer size of it. He hadn't thought he had ordered that much, but the woman delivering was highly professional, and Shane had selected that it be delivered ‘no contact.’ This was to make sure no one could see who exactly had been ordering these. 

It was bad enough that it was being sent to Ilya’s address, but that information was not widely known, so Shane had gone with that being the lesser of two evils. Since the other option was for Shane to go out and try to buy them where he could be seen in public, and as no one yet knew where he was, and he would rather like to keep it that way for a while, he had nixed that idea. 

Shane took the box through to their bedroom and placed it on the bed. He carefully opened the neatly packed plain black box and lifted the lid; it really did seem to be large for what he had ordered. Each item was beautifully wrapped in thin tissue paper. As Shane unwrapped them all, he realised these were not like standard men's underwear at all; even the basic ones were silk or pure Egyptian cotton. 

He took out all the ones he had ordered on their own, four pairs of silk and four of the lovely cotton ones. Shane was rather pleased with those; he tried a pair on, and they felt much better; the fabrics didn't irritate him, and they sat much better over the curve of his lower belly. 

Then he turned to the other box that was at the bottom. This must have been the set on offer he had added because he had been embarrassed looking at all the more sexy versions further down. He thought that he had ordered a mixed set of the plain boxers because it had said in the description that it had different materials in it, and he had wanted to make sure his sensitive skin wouldn't be bothered by them. His cheeks were red again as he opened this box. 

Shane almost dropped it. He must have accidentally ordered something that wasn't the standard-looking boxers and briefs. He must not have realised that one of the packages he chose- having thought it was just a few different materials to see and check they were suitable before he ordered more, and that none of the fabrics irritated him- was actually a few starter sets of what looked like lace pieces. 

Like lace lingerie for men. Little pretty lacy briefs and boxers. A pretty camisole and shorts set. Then the last thing in that set. A daring, soft blush pink lace bralet-style top that was open down the middle and a matching set of panties.

For a moment, Shane just stared at them. Then he carefully put them all back in the box. His face flushed bright red, and he sank his teeth into his lip, biting into the soft flesh. He would send them back. It was an accident. He didn't order them on purpose. 

He didn't put them back. 

He kept looking at the nondescript box and sitting quietly on his side of Ilya’s massive wardrobe. Untouched, just there. Shane lasted maybe three hours before he pulled it back out again. 

Ilya was not due home till the late evening. Shane had a bit of time. He picked out one of the less lavish pieces and looked at it in his hands. It couldn't hurt to try the pretty briefs, maybe. They were in his size, and the silk felt lovely against his skin.  

Shane decided on the more basic black pair. It had a little golden ribbon around the waistband. When he slid them up his thighs, the silk whispered against his smooth skin, since his already fine leg hairs were much thinner and softer now that he was pregnant, and he carefully settled the little briefs around his hips. They sat much better against his slight bump. In fact, they cradled it, making it look rounder and softer. The little bow in the centre was like a little arrow towards his cock. Shane looked in the mirror. 

He looked good. 

He looked pretty. 

His hair was gleaming, softer and longer than it had been in years. Fuller and healthier than it had been since he chopped it all off as a teenager when he had been called a ‘Sissy’ in the locker room for tying his hair up to get it out of his eyes under his helmet. 

Maybe just this once, he was allowed to? 

 

Shane was big; he was muscular. He had worked damn hard for his body over the years. One thing that had made him feel better about all this being a Carrier thing had been when they had read all those books; listening to Ilya’s deep, velvet voice read aloud in Russian had caused them to get distracted a few times, but they had gotten through them all eventually. Carriers recovered faster; he wouldn't lose his muscle mass, or at least not much, and it was true. 

Since he had moved to Boston with Ilya, he had carried on with the approved workouts in Ilya’s fantastically equipped home gym, with the soft, low lighting. He had actually put on muscle and weight already. Although he was now showing, his abdominal muscles were still there and could still even be seen despite the slight curve. 

He had spent his whole life deliberately looking away from anything that made him look softer, prettier. Anything other than overt masculine clothing or ways of being that he had almost forgotten, the way he had actually liked his hair long; he liked the softer, prettier colours and the much nicer fabrics of certain women's clothing. Not that he wanted to look like a woman or even like a man in drag. That wasn't what he wanted. 

He liked the way that more delicate fabrics didn't irritate his very sensitive skin. Especially evening formal wear, and things like jeans; men's denim was like cardboard, and yet women's were butter soft and framed his more ample ass, hips and thighs better than the much straighter cut of men's. Which was why he didn't wear them. He stuck to athletic wear and slacks or shorts most of the time. 

Shane looked at the bralet set. 

This was past the line of simple, pretty underwear he had accidentally bought with his pregnancy as an excuse. 

That was basically a bra, and it even looked like it would fit, and it felt lovely as he ran the silky material between his fingers. A silk lining with a lace overlay. The light pink colour made his tanner skin tones stand out even on his wrist and hand, where the delicate thing lay inconspicuously, harmlessly, like it wasn't causing Shane to question himself for the first time since he had been 17 on a filthy gym floor and following the near-silent orders of a Greek god sat opposite him. 

He picked it up. 

Then put it back down. 

He turned away. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He didn’t even know what Ilya would think if he saw him wearing any of these, but then again, Ilya had made it perfectly clear what he thought of Shane’s softer curves. His mate couldn't get enough of him, especially now.  

Slowly, he picked up the panties; they were his size, too. 

He slipped off the black pair and pulled the pink ones up his thighs. They settled perfectly over his cock and the lower part of his slightly curved belly. High-waisted but still covering him, they weren’t very revealing or anything, and they weren't even partially see-through like the previous pair were, but somehow he felt even more exposed. 

Carefully, he folded away the black and gold pair; they matched the Bears' home jersey colours, and in the back of Shane’s mind, he could see himself maybe feeling brave enough to wear them under one of Ilya’s jerseys. Maybe. So instead of putting them back into the box, he folded all of them into the back of his drawer in the nightstand. Right at the back, so if the drawer was casually opened, then they wouldn’t be too obvious. 

All except the pink open cami-style top.

Something fell out of the fabric when he gently unfolded it. A thin, gold chain slithered out of the silk folds and pooled on the bed, the metal glinting and catching in the low light of the room. Shane picked it up. It was longer than a necklace, thin but not too delicate, and little tiny diamonds glittered as he moved it through his fingers. A card had fallen out with it, a diamond-shaped piece with a description on it. 

Shane looked at it. 

‘Blush Pink Cami Set

Includes waist chain. 

Caution: chain is fragile and breakable.’

At least the length of the chain made sense now, but Shane wasn’t sure he was really understanding the description. He picked his phone up and hesitantly googled it. 

Nope. He hadn't misunderstood at all.

This was a chain that was designed to sit around the waist and belly. Like some sort of necklace but for the hips. He looked at it, then down at his waist. He really was considering this, was he? 

He really fucking was. 

The chain was cool to the touch as he slid it around the swell of his hip and settled it low over the soft curve of his belly. It glinted in the low lights of the bedroom, the shimmer not unlike the golden glitter of their bond. 

Shane looked at himself in the mirror. Then he looked at the top part, which lay spread open on the bed. He looked back at his image, softer and prettier than he had ever looked, but he kind of wanted to put the top half on. Yet he knew that if he did, something would change, and he was scared. 

The bond thrummed in response to his anxiety and fear, Ilya’s end suddenly perking up again and brightening in a flash of worry. 

“Lyubimyy?” 

Shane paused. He had definitely heard Ilya louder that time. He sent a wave of softness and comfort back; he didn’t want to cause any flare-ups on Ilya’s end, especially when they were still separated. 

 “Ilyusha?” 

He tentatively pushed back but got no response; maybe the bond wasn’t quite fully formed for this part yet. Shane was pretty sure that their bond was still growing and growing a lot more than the books seemed to think was possible. Instead of a verbal response, he got a flood of love and adoration right into the centre of his ice scape that settled his nerves. 

Slowly, he picked up the top again. 

Shane slipped one arm through the strap. The bra-style part of it had a simple, soft clasp that he quickly snapped shut before he could change his mind. Then he slid his other arm through the strap, and the silk ghosted against his skin like a caress as it settled. 

The whole image was soft but sexy. 

Tentatively, he climbed up onto the bed fully. The mirror was showing him exactly what he looked like, and the thin quiver of the silk framed the soft swell of his pregnant belly. 

Shane dropped his hand to cup the curve under the lace panties; the warm, gentle glow of their bond brightened even more than it had since Ilya had first left. All of a sudden, his mindscape was bright and open again, like a door had been thrown open once again. 

Ilya’s rope had lifted out of its coil and was once again making steady loops around the surface of his pattern. The strands were gaining their glow back quickly now, and Shane could feel all of his mate again. 

Just as he was lost a little in the almost overwhelming deluge of feelings from Ilya’s end, he didn’t hear the door open, or even register the sudden sharp intake of breath until Ilya let out a low, pained growl from the doorway of their bedroom. 

Shane’s eyes shot up.

Ilya was home. 

His mate was home, and Shane was basically presenting himself like an offering or tribute, up on his knees in the middle of their neatly made bed, dressed in a set of pink lace lingerie. Shane watched as Ilya’s eyes darkened almost instantly, zeroing in on the gold glitter around the slight swell of his belly. 

“Fucking hell…”

Shane shivered and moaned at the raw, desperate sound that was torn from Ilya’s throat. His mate looked thoroughly dangerous, and it was all Shane could do to hold himself still under that look. He purred, his chest vibrating with the sound as he could feel his own arousal soar at the sight. 

“Ilyusha…”

Ilya took two stalking steps forward. Shane arched his back and met those now fully golden eyes. The bond sang around them, everything once again bathed in gold. 

Just as Ilya’s hands slipped around his waist and touched the edge of the chain, eyes heavy and heated, the metal was now warm from his body heat. His phone exploded into noise on the nightstand exactly at the same time that there was loud, obnoxious ringing on the gate alarm. 

Chapter 8: Interruption

Chapter Notes

And we have the conclusion to the Cliffhanger ... Warning for some blood, some violence, and a lot of heavy smut. Oh, and more Bond lore.
Sorry for the wait, Kemii!
Let me know what you think.

Ilya’s brain had shut down. Blue-screened. Gone blank. Had a " Be Right Back " sign hung on it. 

He was pretty sure he had never gotten so hard, so fast in his life. The sight before him was ascension-worthy, even if his reaction to it was more than likely going to send him straight to hell with what depraved things he wanted to do to his mate right at this very moment. 

Their flight had landed early. 

Ilya had been in such a rush to get back home, to have Shane in his arms again, that he hadn’t bothered sending his mate a message. Now he thanked any of the gods listening that he hadn’t. If Shane had known he would be early, his mate might have hidden this from him. 

That would not be acceptable. He wanted to look upon this sight for the rest of his life. 

Shane was kneeling in the centre of their neatly made bed, all perfectly tucked-in corners just like Shane liked them. Every pillow was positioned exactly where his mate wanted them; it looked pristine, soft, and domestic. 

Then there was the vision of sex incarnate, blushing and not meeting his eyes right there, in the middle of all that sweetness, barely a foot away, almost close enough to reach out and touch. Soft, coral pink lace draped so lovingly over those sculpted, beautiful pecs. The graceful sweep of the open top, parting and hinting at the relaxed but still visible abs, to the glint and glitter of that damn fucking chain. 

That delicate chain, which was sitting snugly right across the middle of that soft curve, where a just noticeable swell was peeking out from pretty, matching pink panties. 

Ilya growled. The sound was low; it rumbled through the room and burned through his veins as the bond lit up, glowing so brightly that everything was bathed in gold dust.

“Fuck…”

He had to bite down on the words as they escaped him. His chest and throat felt raw with the force of it, with the effort it was taking to move slowly towards Shane. 

“Ilyusha…”

Ilya gave his own answering, deeper purr at the sound of Shane’s lighter, husky purr reverberating in the warmth of their den. He took two stalking steps forward. His large, roughened fingers brushed the very edge of that chain; the metal was warm to the touch, having drawn the body heat from Shane’s belly. Heat flared through him, desire lighting the edges of his vision gold as he raked his gaze over the soft, sensual body. 

He had just caressed his fingertips on those luscious hips when the intense, heated tension in the room was shattered by a loud, raucous noise from Shane’s phone on his nightstand, exactly at the same time as the alert tone of the gate code being activated chimed from his pocket. 

This wasn’t some knocking or requesting entrance; this was an alert to say the code had been keyed in and the gate had already opened. 

Ilya hauled his brain up from the deep, scorching abyss of arousal that he was currently drowning in. The bond had begun to darken; his thick, now much more substantial and huge rope was half coiled defensively, like a massive, powerful snake, in the centre of Shane’s frozen lake. The raised half was on alert, tense, and flicking side to side like an angry cat’s tail. 

For the code to have been used, that could only mean one of his team or Svetlana. As no one else had access, he had made sure of it when he had moved out here; his address wasn’t even public knowledge. 

With an infuriated snarl, Ilya stepped away from the ever-so tempting sight of his mate. Shane’s eyes had gone fully gold, and there was a deeper, more dangerous hiss that reverberated through the sudden silence. A clawed hand snatched into his hoodie as Ilya went to move towards the door; sharp pinpricks of those extended talons cut into the top layer of his skin, even through the thick fabric. Deftly, Ilya encircled the back of Shane’s tense neck with his hand and had to apply a firm, almost painful amount of pressure to make Shane focus and look up at him. 

“That was the code alert. There are only a handful of people it could be. You need to stay out of sight, Lyubimyy. Please.”

Ilya was profoundly aware of the danger that Shane posed to anyone but him right now, certainly since they had been apart for the first time, and then, to make it worse, they had been interrupted upon reuniting. He could feel the thrumming aggression and fury from Shane’s end of the bond; the rivers of molten gold carved deep into the surface of that frozen lake were seething with Shane’s emotions. 

“Stay. Please. I will get rid of whoever it is and be right back.”

Shane was nonverbal. The hissing growl was getting louder, and Ilya was having to use all of his strength to keep Shane where he was. His mate was strong; Ilya knew this better than anyone, but it was actually taking all of his own considerable weight and power on the back of Shane’s neck to hold him down. Knowing that he had minutes at best, Ilya threw one of his own discarded hoodies over Shane’s still lace-clad form; he couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone else seeing his mate like this.    

Shane was fighting under his grip. For once, not completely submitting to Ilya’s physical command to stay. 

He wasn’t fast enough. 

 

The lithe, self-assured figure of Svetlana flounced around the corner and into sight. A playful, expectant grin on her stunning face. Ilya’s nostrils flared at the saccharine, treacle-like thick scent in the air. It was cloying, way too sweet, and smelled like overripe fruit; his lip curled up in instant disgust. He had no idea why she suddenly smelled awful, but it made his metaphorical hackles rise and the bond thrum with a sudden wave of fresh, volcanic anger. 

A low, guttural snarl came from the taut, strained muscles under his hand. Shane’s head had lifted, nose in the air, and clearly scenting as he felt him pushing up against the hold Ilya had on him. The sudden, terrifying realisation that Ilya physically couldn’t hold his mate back like this just about crashed through his mind before Shane had surged silently forwards, shattering Ilya’s hold, and the air was rent by a high-pitched, tormented scream of pain. 

Blood bloomed crimson across Svetlana’s thin, delicate arm as Ilya frantically took his end of the bond as tightly as he could and pulled. The braided rope glowed and wound happily around his wrists as strength swept through his limbs. 

The sharp, still too sweet scent was tinged with the coppery scent of fresh blood as Ilya charged forward and caught Shane mid-motion. His mate had pivoted, ready to strike again, with canines extended and claws unsheathed. Droplets of ruby red decorated the edges of those wicked-looking talons.

He locked his arms around Shane’s waist and used every ounce of his bond-enhanced strength to haul his mate away from the crumpled, sobbing form of Svetlana on the floor. 

Despite the help from the bond, Ilya had to tighten his arms like steel bands around Shane’s waist and chest. He had to breathe through his mouth to try and stop his head from swimming from the heady, arousing scent coming from Shane. The pressure of that curved belly against his arm and the press of that chain even through the hoodie; his hoodie was doing nothing to remind Ilya that Shane still only had those tiny, scant pieces of lace and silk on. 

“Easy, Lyubimyy. Please do not kill her.”

Ilya could only hope that Shane was prepared to listen. The bond was resonating with killing intent. Shane’s claws were fully extended, and Ilya could feel just how close Shane was to breaking out of his hold. 

He dropped his hand down to the soft curve of their baby, cradling the gentle swell under the hoodie to try to bring Shane back down. Any time he touched his mate’s lower stomach when they were just together (outside of any sexual activities anyway), Shane had said he felt a lovely little happy bubble from their child in the bond. 

Ilya was hoping that this might just be enough to jolt Shane out of it. He kept his body between Shane and the downed form of Sveta; he didn’t want her to see this, as he carefully rubbed his hand in a gentle circle across that beautiful little curve. He felt Shane soften in his arms. Not a lot, but just enough. The bond eased back from the lethal intent that had been staining it crimson through the roiling gold rivers in Shane’s lake.    

This was the clearest Ilya had yet seen Shane’s mindscape as well as his own. The way he had just instinctively tugged, yanked on his golden rope in his desperation to try and physically match Shane, it looked like he might have accelerated whatever evolution process that the bond had been undergoing while they were separated. 

“Lyubimyy, Shane, sweetheart. Come back to me, please. I need you to focus on this, on my hand now.”

The murmur that came out of his mouth was low, deep, and so very desperate. Ilya could see that Shane had torn into Sveta’s shoulder and down her arm, but she was already applying pressure, even if she was sobbing at the same time. Shane’s talons were razor-sharp right now, and she was so very lucky that he hadn’t gone for the throat. 

A flicker. Tiny and dim, but there in Shane’s eyes. Ilya doubled down on his hold, both around his mate and his grip around the bond. He flooded their now shared mindscape with all of his love, adoration, and affection as he nuzzled into Shane’s throat. Another minuscule give in the tension had Ilya taking a quick but calculated risk. 

With practised ease, he bent and hooked an arm under Shane’s knees to swing him up gracefully into his arms, up against his chest. The hold felt familiar and as easy as breathing to him now. Shane gave a snarl, but even more of those crimson streaks faded back to gold as Ilya tilted his head to the side and tucked Shane’s nose into the base of his throat. 

“That’s it, Lyubimyy. Breathe now.”

Only for Shane to zero back in on the sudden, slight movement that Sveta made, Ilya cursed under his breath and glared at his friend in silent warning. He knew she was smarter than this; she knew just as much about Carriers as he had before all this. The hiss Shane let out had ramped back up, and he was suddenly twisting in Ilya’s hold. He had to dig his heels in and, very quickly, twist his body to slam Shane against the wall as his mate skillfully used him as a springboard to aim for Sveta’s throat this time. 

With a roar he hadn’t known he was capable of, Ilya shouted over his shoulder as he fought his mate back against the wall. He gave a vicious pull on the bond, and the glowing, gauntlet-style coils of rope around his forearms snaked around both his wrists this time. Which gave him a boost as Shane got his beautifully bare, plush thighs around his waist and almost threw him. Ilya had to fight both to keep his feet and not to spin his mate and try to fuck him against this wall, claws and blood included. 

“Sveta. Get the fuck out!”

He had never raised his voice like this to her before, but just at this moment, he was having to use his bigger, heavier bulk to physically pin Shane to the wall and keep him from attacking again. The only reason he wasn’t bleeding out on the floor was the fact that Shane would never hurt him, just as he would never hurt Shane, and his mate was still listening, still letting him hold him back, for now. 

Ilya growled into Shane’s ear as he brought an arm up across that muscular chest and threw all his weight behind holding Shane aloft and off balance long enough for Sveta to get the fuck out of sight. 

“Please, sweetheart. Don't do this. I’m begging you, for me.”

Ilya heard her stagger to her feet and let out a string of angry, hurt Russian, but he didnt dare take his eyes off Shane to look. He didnt dare do anything to antagonise his seething mate further. 

It wasn’t like Sveta didn’t or couldn't understand; she was smart enough to put two and two together here. He was just banking on their very long, very loyal friendship to keep her silent until he could get to talk to her properly, but what she had done, how she had entered their home. That was never happening again.  

“Svetlana, go!”

Finally, she darted away and out of sight. 

Ilya didnt dare let go, not just yet. Shane was still hissing and writhing under his weight, and it was straining his already frayed control. He was still hard, as was Shane, from their physical exertions, and the volcanic heat flooding the bond between them. Shane’s thick, powerful thighs were tight around his waist, and the hot, flexing muscle was gleaming with a slight layer of sweat. 

His mouth watered, and he shifted his grip, now more interested in diverting his mate back to where they had been heading before this untimely interruption. Before he could lose himself in the promised Nirvana of his mate’s body in that delectable pink lace, he had to wrestle himself back under some form of control. 

Shane was not helping. Now that the perceived threat had gone, Shane’s only interest had diverted to rubbing himself all over Ilya, all former shyness seeming forgotten at the thrum of possessive, needy hunger he could feel surging from Shane’s side of the bond. 

He didn’t bother with words. 

Instead, he gathered his hands under those legs and lifted Shane up and away from the wall. He carried his mate back through to their bedroom and placed him back on the still, almost perfectly neat sheets. There was a slight disturbance near the pillows from where Shane had launched himself off at the intrusion into their safe haven, as the only visible mark of them having been interrupted. 

He spied the darker staining of the dried blood on Shane’s fingers and arm, extending onto the now-soaked hoodie. Ilya took the bloodied hand carefully in his own and stroked softly over the still not-quite-sheathed claws.

Ilya watched as Shane sniffed at the damp sleeve and pulled his lip up in an adorable little mew of discomfort. He smoothed his hands up those plush hips and eased the stained fabric off his upset mate, making sure that nothing got on that still pristine pink lace. 

He watched. Eyes gold-ringed and hungry, as Shane stalked silently through to the bathroom. His movements still held a very predatory edge as Ilya tracked the tense, then released, movement of those huge, gloriously bare thighs. The deceptively delicate blush pink panties that lovingly cradled that round, full ass, and the graceful swish of the back of the silk and lace top, where the gap hinted at the sliver of visible waist, wrapped and worshipped by that delicate chain. 

 

Instead of following the siren call that was his mate’s luscious ass in those panties. Ilya physically dragged himself away by force to find his phone and call Cliff first. 

His best friend answered instantaneously. 

“Hey, man, what’s up?”

He didnt waste time with pleasantries. 

“Need a favour, you at home?”

Cliff didn’t live that far away and was currently once again single, so it was a pretty solid bet that after arriving home early from their away game, Cliff would be sprawled out on his sofa in his underwear right about now. 

“Can you take my friend to the hospital but stay with her, please?”

There was a pause, but he and Cliff had been friends for years, and this wasn’t the strangest request either had made of the other by far.

“Sure, man, who am I looking for? And they need a pickup from yours?”

Ilya relaxed slightly. Cliff was good; he would look after Sveta.

“Svetlana. I’ll tell her to expect you. She will be at the gate.”

“No worries, Roz. I’ll keep you updated, yeah?”

“Please. Thanks a lot, Cliff.”

Cliff was really the best friend Ilya could have asked for when he moved to Boston. The man was very uncomplicated; what you saw was what you got, and it was very refreshing to a teenage Ilya, who had spent his youth weighing in allies rather than real, tangible friendships. 

Quickly, he fired off a text to the emergency number that Gloria had given them. 

 

Ilya ➡️ Hey Gloria, Sorry, but it is an emergency. Could you get your friend to meet someone at the entrance, please and treat her without it being known what the cause of the injury is?

 

The answer came in the form of his phone ringing. Gloria was clearly very worried, but a no-nonsense tone came through clearly.

“Ilya, what happened?”

He glanced into the bathroom, but Shane was still meticulously scrubbing at his claws. 

“There was an incident, but I haven’t got time to explain fully now. Can your friend do it if I can get her there, not in an ambulance?”

There was a sigh, and then the sound of quickfire tapping, but Gloria quickly came back. 

“Yes. Send me the car and the number plate. Dr Nadia Henderson will be waiting. She will find something to put on the paperwork that won’t make anyone too suspicious.”

Ilya let out the breath he had been holding in relief. 

“Thanks, Gloria. Got to go.”

He ended the call and typed out the details of Cliff’s car. He at least knew the plate since his friend had a custom one, and they had all mocked him for it when he had gotten it for Christmas a few years ago from his brother. 

The only other option would have been Victor St Simone. The tall, dark-skinned Winger had surprised Ilya. He had slotted himself in beside Cliff and seemed to have decided he had adopted them both shortly after Ilya had been drafted. Neither had ever said anything, but Victor pinged his extremely sensitive gaydar more than once, but was, at least as far as Ilya had known, only dating women. So they both kept silent, but Ilya suspected that Vic was aware of him too, since he didnt know how to survive hiding this sort of secret in their world without a functioning sense of who was like him. 

Unlike his mate. Who had none at all. Which Ilya now knew was linked to him being a Carrier. Gloria had said that the gene mutation known to be the cause of being a Carrier also always caused some form of neurodivergence, and his beautiful, intelligent mate had drawn the short end of the straw with that. Not that it mattered anymore; Ilya was not going to let Shane go, not now and not ever again. He would fight, and he would kill to keep Shane and their baby safe; he just had to hope that Sveta would understand.   

He clicked off Cliff’s contact and then scrolled down to Sveta’s number. 

She answered on the second ring. 

“What the fuck, Ilya?!”

He winced at the use of his English name but kept his voice low, not wanting to put Shane’s hackles up again. 

“I’m sorry, Sveta. I will explain. But for now, just trust me, please.”

He wasn’t begging her; she knew better than this, and he was annoyed at her for blatantly ignoring his texts when he had been away. He had asked her not to do this anymore, had trusted her, in fact, to listen, and yet she hadn’t. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

She was dismissive and cold, but Ilya ignored it in favour of getting the plan across to her. 

“You can’t call an ambulance, but Cliff Marlow is on his way to take you and will stay. The doctor who will meet you there is Dr Nadine Henderson; she can be trusted. You must not speak of this, Sveta. I mean it.”

He could, in fact, hear the car pull up through the phone as he was speaking; his senses were still dialled up so high. 

“That is him, Sveta. Just please, do this for me.”

She let out a pained noise, but her voice thawed just a bit. 

“Fine, but I want an explanation as soon as possible.”

He would take that. As far as Sveta went, it was as good as he was going to get right now. Carefully, he lowered his voice even more; he really didn’t want Shane hearing this. 

“Are you alright?”

There was a pause.

“I will live. I will talk to you soon, Ilya.”

Then the call was abruptly put down. 

 

Ilya lowered his phone just as Shane prowled out of the bathroom. A golden glow surrounded him, and his skin gleamed under the soft lighting. His breath caught at the predatory slink in Shane’s step as he moved, his gaze captivated by the play of muscles and the gentle gleam of that dainty little chain still sitting snug and pretty at the roundest part of that lovely, sweet curve. 

As Shane slid one hand up Ilya’s chest and, with the still exposed tips of his claws, hooked them into his hoodie and pulled. Ilya raised his arms and let Shane almost rip the fabric of both his hoodie and tank over his head. The fact that Shane just dropped the offending items to the floor sent a heady shiver up Ilya's spine.

The deliberate, sensual drop to his knees made Ilya groan and widen his legs to give his mate more room between them. Shane’s strong hands stroked up the expanse of his thighs to hook into the waistband of his sweats and pull. Ilya lifted his hips and let Shane strip him of both his sweats and his boxers. The low rumbling purr of satisfaction filled the room as Shane sat back and looked up at him from under those full, sooty lashes, chocolate eyes gone gold and heated as his mate kept eye contact. Then he lowered his sultry, petal-soft mouth to the hot, hard length of his erect cock. 

Ilya clenched his fingers into those silky, thick strands and tugged as Shane leaned forward and ran his tongue along the underside of his cock. One broad stroke along the vein, and then Shane was parting those wet, soft lips around the head and taking him into that sinfully hot mouth. 

He growled and opened his legs wider, trying to pull Shane closer, but his mate resisted and pressed the tips of those wicked claws into the vulnerable inner flesh of his thighs in warning. Ilya groaned at both the warning, the promise of the threat and the skill of that mouth as Shane began to lick and swirl his tongue around the head of his cock. He was not rushing. Ilya gave up trying to watch and dropped his head back to moan loudly as Shane kept slowly, patiently working down his length. 

By the time Shane had taken him all the way down his throat, Ilya was trembling and panting with the effort not to thrust his hips up, to keep still and let his mate go at his own pace. He was desperate; his cock was throbbing and pulsing inside that beautifully hot, tight throat, and all Ilya wanted to do was hold Shane still and fuck his mouth until those eyes were bright with unshed tears. He wanted Shane gagging, whining and pleading for more even as he struggled to take his thrusts. 

He knew Shane could feel it, could feel the raw, unfettered want down the bond, because he could feel Shane’s own desire warring with the fact that he both wanted exactly that, but also wanted to torture Ilya longer like this. 

Shane gave a soft hum in the back of his throat as Ilya slid a hand around the back of his neck and put a little bit of pressure behind the hold, just to see if Shane would allow him the control or not. For a moment, Shane looked up at him, that feral edge still there, but as Ilya ever so slowly increased the grip, he watched as Shane melted into it. The bond brightened with that blush pink hue, and Shane relaxed that final bit. 

Ilya growled and planted his feet as he shifted to give himself a better angle, then he rolled his hips, and his cock sank heavily into Shane’s willing throat. This time, Ilya pulled Shane down to meet his thrust as he went as deep as possible, not giving Shane a break as he set a steady but deep rhythm of fucking his cock down Shane’s throat. 

He petted his hand around to where he could feel the stretch, the way the muscles of Shane’s throat were taut around his girth. As he pressed his cock back in, he tightened his hand around Shane’s neck and groaned at the pitiful, choked-off whine Shane gave. Crystalline tears began to gather at the corners of those beautiful, glowing eyes as Ilya watched Shane squirm, both trying not to choke and at the same time press his own already leaking cock up against Ilya’s leg. 

Ilya moaned at the sight. Shane was stunning like this, crying and choking on his cock while being so aroused by being fucked like this; he was squirming and desperate for any friction he could find. 

“Ah, Nyet. No, you can come without touching yourself, Lyubimyy. Can't you?”  

Shane mewled but nodded the best he could with the way his jaw was being stretched wide around the sheer size of his cock. Everything was bright rose gold and glowing. Ilya could feel the bond in his veins, singing and flooding his system with more, more arousal, more heat, more desperation for his pretty mate. 

He sped up a little, growling as he felt his first orgasm approach, the feeling of Shane’s throat constricting around him as he gagged and fought for breath slightly at the thick, hot precome filling his mouth. 

The moan Shane let out, as he frantically tried to swallow it all, had Ilya rumbling out swear words and tightening his hold around Shane’s throat. 

“Come for me, sweetheart. Show me how much you want this.”

Shane obeyed. Moaning and mewling around his cock as his hips jerked, and pearly, creamy ropes of come coated that lovely chain and soft curve in his belly. The sight caused Ilya to slam his hips forward and snarl as he shot a thick, heavy load of come into that pretty throat. He let out a husky moan as he felt Shane swallowing under his hand, those strong, stretched muscles working to drink down everything he was giving him. 

The feeling made Ilya’s cock twitch; he hadn't gone fully soft, just like last time the bond had been flared up like this. He slowly eased Shane back off his length and gently guided him up into his lap. Shane’s pretty, dripping wet cock was still half hard, and his eyes had taken on that glassy, slightly bond-drunk look again.

“Beautiful. Look at you.”  

Ilya soothed his thumbs under Shane’s jawline to tilt his head up and get a good look at that half-dazed, half-still aroused face. Eyes glassy and pupils blown in heavy want. Shane leaned into his hands as Ilya slotted their mouths together in a deep, open kiss. He lapped into that warm, sweet space, tasting both Shane’s own unique flavour and his own tangy, sharper overtone.  

Sharp teeth nipped at his lips as Shane adjusted and began to arch closer, that delicate, gentle curve of his belly pressing into Ilya’s chiselled stomach. He growled softly and brought a hand down to spread just above the lush, round curve of Shane’s ass. He dug his fingers into those captivating dimples to pull his mate’s hips flush against his own. 

That purr vibrated through Shane’s chest as Ilya traced patterns into his skin while he kissed him again. Ilya nuzzled his lips over Shane’s, sinking deeper and deeper into the heat building up between them again as Shane bit back and sucked at Ilya’s tongue in the mirror image of what he had been doing to his cock not long ago. 

Ilya began to explore the silk and lace. He kept his touch just on this edge of too light as he traced the open V shape down from under the bra-like shape at the top, down to skim the top of the panties that were cradling that little curve and back up the other side. His fingers skimmed a hardened nipple through the thin lace, the touch just enough to cause Shane to whine in disappointment when he kept moving. 

Ilya followed the line of the dip in the middle of those perfectly shaped tits to hook around the expanse of muscles covering Shane’s ribcage. 

He spread his hands on either side of those expanding flanks and caressed the heated skin through the gossamer-thin lace; the sensations of his fingers touching skin by pressing down through the fabric sent shivers up Shane’s spine. Ilya could see his lip tremble, and his eye fluttered closed at the sensation. 

 

For now, Ilya ignored their erections and kept exploring. He opened his hands on the broad expanse of his mate’s muscular back as he dipped his head to brush his mouth across one hard nipple, but through the lace. He licked and mouthed at the bud until he pulled it up into his mouth and sucked, lace and all. Shane arched his back, his cock pressed up against Ilya’s own as his mate leaned into his hands, holding him in that sensual curve. He switched sides and lavished the other tit with the same attention, until the lace was soaking and clinging to the swollen, reddened flesh. 

Ilya hummed softly in delight as he lifted his head to look. Shane’s chest was softened and swollen; his nipples were hard little buds under the soaking wet material that had darkened from his mouth. 

Shane looked like he was leaking fresh, sweet milk. He would soon get to see that his mate’s glorious body would produce the highest quality of milk, and Ilya would help soothe them. Just like this. 

He growled and dipped back down, pulling the puffy, softened mound into his mouth and sucking until Shane was mewling and crying. His hands were cradling the back of Ilya’s head, wound tight into his curls and tugging strongly with every pull of Ilya’s mouth. 

Shane was squirming and writhing in his lap; every pull of his mouth was causing his mate to jerk his hips up slightly. The wet, leaking head of that pretty cock was fully hard again and spreading pearly, sweet pre-come over both of them. Ilya was half tempted to see if Shane could come like this, just from his mouth on his chest, but his own cock was throbbing, aching and being tormented by Shane’s movements. 

Instead, he palmed the shape of that lovely, thick cock through the pretty lace, the red, weeping head peeking out of the waistband and pressed up against that sweet curve. 

Ilya rubbed his palm up the heated length of the panties, feeling the catch and friction from the fabric as the wet, dripping precome darkened the blush pink. 

He ghosted his fingers under the thin, delicate waistband and eased them down to free the hard, leaking length of his mate’s cock. 

Only, he didn't take them off just yet; he nestled them under those plush, heavy balls to frame Shane’s pretty, thick cock as he gathered some of the slick, glistening liquid on his fingers and ran them along the lace over Shane’s hole and between his cheeks. Ilya watched as the lace darkened over that twitching hole as he soaked them in Shane’s own precome.

Shane had dropped his head forward onto Ilya’s shoulder and was mewling into his skin as Ilya continued to slowly torture them both, until he felt Shane lift his head and give a throaty hiss when he just pressed the tip of a finger into that heated, sensitive ring of muscle through the panties. 

“Ilyusha… Please.”

Ilya pulled his hand away and slotted his fingers into the delicate, now soaking lace and carefully pulled them off those gorgeous legs. He got distracted, running his hands back up the length of muscle and silky skin until a sharp, painful sting in his shoulder made him growl and clamp his hands down on Shane’s hips. His mate had sunk his teeth into the meat of his shoulder and was sucking an impressive mark there. The heated swipe of that mouth, the careful lap of Shane’s tongue chasing the stray drops of his blood as Shane laid a very visible, very bold claim on him. He groaned and had to wrap a hand around the base of his cock for a moment to pull himself back under control at the flare of heat that bite had sent through him. 

With a roll of his shoulders and hips, Ilya twisted them to pin Shane under his bigger, heavier body. He ground his hips down into Shane’s as he reached over and pulled out the open bottle of lube from his side of the bed. 

“Impatient are we, sweetheart?”

Shane was panting, and tears of frustration were clinging to his lovely, long, sooty lashes. 

He leaned down and kissed him, driving his tongue in and biting Shane’s lip in retaliation for the throbbing bite on his shoulder. He warmed the lube on his fingers before trailing them across the same teasing path he had done with the panties, but he was on edge too now, and instead of prolonging the draw-out anymore, Ilya circled his finger around the warm, twitching rim to spread some lube before he pushed it all the way inside in one smooth movement. Shane keened as Ilya pulled his finger back out, only to press it back in, slower than his mate wanted but just enough to keep him on the edge. 

Ilya felt Shane wrap his legs around him and lock behind his back. He raised himself up a bit and tested the grip, but Shane’s glowing, rippling muscles didnt give an inch. The bond sang, and golden dust shimmered happily all around them as Ilya settled back down, and as he drew his finger back out, he eased the second one inside, too. 

Carefully but quickly, Ilya began to stretch his mate out. Once he had three of his large fingers comfortably thrusting into that tight, velvet warmth, he pulled them out to coat his swollen, rock-hard cock in more lube. 

“Ready, Lyubimyy?”

As he pulled Shane’s thighs higher around his hips and rubbed the slick, heavy head of his cock along the cleft of Shane’s beautiful ass. Teasing as it caught on the open, puffy hole with every drag. Shane hissed and yowled in displeasure as he stilled until his mate verbally answered.  

“Fuck… Yes. Please, Ilyusha…”

Ilya groaned as he adjusted Shane’s hips slightly and sank inside. The tight, velvet heat of his mate’s body opened up around his cock as he bottomed out. 

Shane arched and threw his head back, eyes glassy and cheeks tear-stained as he was finally filled. Those powerful legs clamped around Ilya’s waist as Shane tried to encourage him to move. His mate was close and was desperate for more now; he could feel that building edge in the bond that told him Shane was close. 

He pulled a pillow down and slotted it under the base of Shane’s spine, supporting the angle and the slight extra weight of that lovely little curved belly. Then he drew his hips back and snapped them forward, driving into his mate’s body with all the power of his core and legs. 

Shane almost howled and met his movements; strong arms encircled his back, and those claws dug into his skin, but the tiny little sparks of pain only spurred Ilya on to increase the speed of his thrusts. Shane moaned and closed his eyes. Ilya could feel those walls tensing and spasming around him as Shane was very close. 

With one hand, Ilya reached down and tugged lightly on the chain still wrapped around his mate’s lovely belly, and the pressure, the touch of that chain, had Shane arching his back and cresting over into a second orgasm all over them both. 

Ilya groaned at the feeling and thrust hard and deep as Shane’s body tried to ring every last drop of release out of his cock through his own orgasm. He lowered his body to lie on top of his mate’s; their baby was in no danger, and Shane’s body was so very warm as Ilya draped himself over his smaller mate. 

 

Neither of them moved. Shane was panting, and Ilya was steadily easing his own breathing back down. 

“You alright, sweetheart?”

He nuzzled into Shane’s throat, kissing a few of the fingerprint-shaped bruises that were already showing up beautifully against Shane’s lovely tanned skin tone, where Ilya had put pressure on both to try and hold his mate down and then to feel his cock inside that exquisite throat. 

Shane nodded and leaned up to kiss him, their lips softly brushing as they breathed in each other for a moment. Ilya knew they weren’t done; Shane hadn't made him move, hadn't started to squirm or whine about the mess, hadn't unlocked his legs and let Ilya pull out of him yet. 

So he wasn't too surprised when Shane’s grip around his waist and flanks suddenly tightened, and those gorgeously powerful thighs flexed to roll them both over. Shane had such a grip on him, and his strength was so controlled that he managed to roll them and keep Ilya’s still mostly hard cock inside him. The sheer strength and gracefulness of that move had Ilya closing his eyes and moaning into Shane’s neck. 

His mate kissed him again, licking at his lips and sucking his bottom lip into that heated mouth, and he felt teeth nip at the captured flesh. Shane then sat up, and Ilya got a look at him. Like this, he got the full effect of the lace that was still draped over his mate’s body. Heavy, swollen chest from his mouth earlier, damp patches still over those hard little buds and the open sweep of the lace to cradle that little curve and the glint of the chain. 

“Fuck …”

Ilya groaned out the curse at that sight. His mate was both beautifully muscled, broad and strong, yet at the same time, all soft, pretty and sweetly fertile. The bond glowed white-hot for a moment as Ilya had to fight the impulse to try and get his mate pregnant again, even though he already was. 

Strong thighs shifted as Shane settled himself at a better angle, and Ilya’s already rapidly hardening cock sank deeper. Both of them moaned at the feeling, at the tighter space now around Ilya’s thick girth with the previous amount of come already inside. As well as the tiny but still very present baby taking up space. 

The soft curve was heavier now, skin taut and full. This position made both Shane’s stomach and his chest fuller, rounder and heavier. Ilya snarled and threw his head back as he wrapped his large hands around those hips. He pressed his finger under the edge of the lace and into the gleaming, damp skin. The sheer span of his hand was enough to cup under the swell of his mate’s belly, and caused Shane to moan and arch into his hold.

He let Shane set the pace, but he kept his hands around those hips and lifted gently at the fuller, heavier curve so Shane’s balance was affected, nor was the position pulling at his taut skin that was strained around both the girth of his cock, a large amount of his come and the swell of his baby. 

As Shane’s thighs flexed and lifted him in a steady but deep grind, Ilya watched, trying to imprint this sensual, irresistible image into his brain forever. The little sway of the chain with every upward roll of Shane’s hips, the flutter of the silk and the clingy wet lace accentuating the fullness of his chest. He watched that pretty, gleaming cock bounce softly against the lower curve and the backs of his fingers where he was still supporting Shane’s heavier belly. 

Ilya lifted his feet and planted his legs once he felt Shane beginning to tire. His mate’s eyes were closed, his head was tipped back to expose that tempting neck, and his movements had slowed. 

Ilya could feel it wasn't going to be enough; the bond glimmered and fluttered. Shane was close, but he was tired, and his body was heavier than it used to be. This was a taxing position on Shane anyway, so Ilya moved his arms to encircle Shane and rolled them once more. 

Shane let out a mewl but sank into the hold as Ilya lifted his legs up over his arms and took over; his hips picked up the pace, and then Shane was arching, tightening down around his length, and let out a low keen as Ilya angled his cock to thrust up into his prostate with every movement. The heavy, thick length of his cock rubbed against every sensitive, heated inch inside his mate. 

He growled deeply into Shane’s neck as he felt both the warning tightening around his cock and the building glow in the bond as they both neared their orgasm. 

Ilya hitched one thick, creamy thigh higher and used it for leverage as he gave a few harder, stronger thrusts that had Shane’s face glowing that pretty soft, rose gold across his stunning freckles as he tipped his head back to moan when he crested over the edge into his orgasm. 

Ilya didn't resist as he drove his cock deep and sank his teeth into the beautifully presented neck as his hips gave a few languid thrusts through his own orgasm. 

The flutter and tightening of Shane around him, milking a little more come out of him as Shane mewled and rubbed his belly up against Ilya’s stomach. Marking the swell of his baby in the warm, spent mess from Shane’s own cock.  

The groan Ilya let out was raw and half desperate. He pinned his mate down out of desperation. He needed Shane to stop. His mate was exhausted; he could feel it through the bond, he could see it in the limp, lax way his body had gone, but Shane was still too sensual for his good. 

Ilya couldn't let him keep working them both up. Shane needed to be cared for, then fed. At this rate, his mate would make sure they never left the bed. 

“Easy, Lyubimyy, enough now. You can’t take any more.”

It was true. With the baby taking up room, Shane’s belly was heavy and taut with the combined weight of his release and the little one. He would be sore, and Ilya needed to get him into a hot bath. 

Shane whined but settled back down with a slight pout. Ilya couldn't help but kiss that soft, sweet mouth and pet the swollen, aching belly with his big, warm hands. Shane melted into the touch with a little mew of pleasure. The bond glowed softer and less intense, but not less. 

 

He was allowed to lift himself off his mate and pad to the bathroom, even if he could feel those sad, sleepy eyes on his back the whole time. He didnt dare look. Ilya was well aware he would give in if he did, and his mate really had had enough for now. 

The bath was set to fill up. Ilya added all the usual requirements to the water and a few tiny drops of the new oil that Gloria had suggested to help ease any stretched or sore muscles from the increased size of Shane’s belly. He was pretty sure this wasn’t what she meant, but it smelled nice and gave the water a silky texture like the one Shane used to use, but now wouldn’t because he couldn't be certain it was safe with him being pregnant. 

Before he went to collect his mate, Ilya turned the shower on to warm up once the bath was full. Shane would not sit in dirty bath water, so he would clean them both off first, then let his mate soak while he changed the sheets before joining him. 

Happy with his preparations, Ilya padded silently back to Shane’s side and gently lifted him into his arms. Shane opened one still gold-ringed eye and gave him a loving, sweet smile before nestling into his arms as he was carried. 

Ilya could feel the utter flood of contentment that was blanketing the whole of their shared mindscape. Shane’s lake was lit up, soft and bright. The molten gold swirled happily, following the looping, contented movements of his own braided rope. It was looking more and more serpent-like as their bond grew; the undulating, graceful shape it made to move was distinctly snake-like. As was the way it coiled and reared up in defence. 

He eased Shane back to stand, unclipping the delicate waist chain and gently removing the damp, clingy lace and setting it in the laundry before helping him under the spray of water. Then he let his mate lean back into his chest as he worked quickly to wash them both clean of the combined mess of their come, lube and sweat. 

Ilya soothed his hands over the sore, stretched muscles, rubbing gently and taking the bulk of both of their weight. He kissed the sad, soft little mew Shane gave when he carefully washed all his come out of him. A few pretty tears escaped the edges of those lashes as Shane cuddled in close; his mate hated this bit, hated feeling empty and cleaned out. 

Ilya carefully scooped him back into his arms once clean and settled him into the warm, scented water of the bath. Shane relaxed almost instantly, until he tried to sit back up when he realised that Ilya hadn't got in behind him. The little mew of distress had Ilya coming back to his side and kissing him softly. 

“I’m just going to change the sheets, Lyubimyy. Then I will be back.”

Shane eyed him but slowly released his grip around the back of Ilya’s neck with a nod. 

“Don’t take long. Okay?”

Ilya didnt take long. He could feel Shane’s unrest through the bond. It wasn't that unusual; sometimes, after a full drop, Shane got clingy afterwards. It wasn’t like Ilya didn’t also. He didn’t mind at all, but it seemed like their recent separation, and then the incident with Sveta, had caused Shane to be feeling it more than normal. 

As soon as he was done, Ilya was lifting Shane and slipping into the still warm water behind his mate. He felt both the physical sigh of relief and the mental one in their bond as Shane melted back into him. He kept them in the water as long as it stayed warm and until Shane’s eyes were starting to close. Ilya wrapped Shane in one of his favourite, fluffy towels that had been warming on the heated towel rack. 

His mate was just about awake enough to go through his basic routine as Ilya carefully rubbed in the soothing, pain-relief creams to his sore belly and swollen chest. By the time Ilya had raced through his own much shorter routine and helped Shane into one of his larger, butter-soft sleep shirts, his mate was almost asleep on his feet. 

Ilya easily lifted the warm, sleep-softened body into his arms and carried him back to the now clean, fresh bed. Shane snuggled down and opened his arms for Ilya. He brushed some of the damp, silky hair away from Shane’s eyes and kissed him softly before slipping into his mate’s waiting arms and tucking him under his chin. Shane seemed to want the gentle curve of his belly pressed between them; the sweet little bubble of happiness floated up the bond from Shane’s end as their baby was nestled safely between them. 

Shane lifted his head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Ilya wrapped his arms tighter around his mate and pressed his own kiss to his hair before murmuring to both Shane and their baby. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu”

He pressed his hand to the dip of Shane’s spine and pulled him impossibly closer as he felt the waves of love, adoration and sweetness down the bond. Their minds were totally entwined now; where there used to be blackness around his braided rope, there was now the frozen, glowing expanse of Shane’s carved lake. 

It was like when he had pulled to borrow from Shane’s abilities; he had pulled their minds so close that they now occupied the same space. Not that either of them minded, but he would need to remember to get Shane to record it all for Gloria tomorrow. 

Shane nuzzled into his neck and let out a little contented sigh as his body went limp in Ilya’s arms. 

“I love you too, Ilyusha.”

Ilya cradled Shane close and closed his eyes. He would need to deal with Sveta and Cliff in the morning, but right now, he was needed here, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could move him.

He heard the snuffle, then the almost silent whisper. Shane was pretty much out of it by now. 

“Love our baby too. Keep him safe.”

If Ilya could physically melt, he was damn fucking sure that would have done it. Instead, he kissed Shane again, pressing his lips to those cheeks, the stunning freckles and finally his forehead before he settled back down. 

The bond hummed, content and flooded with light as the two mindscapes settled more firmly into each other’s space, everything thrumming with a smug sort of happiness of a pleased, half-sentient bond. 

Chapter 9: The Captain Conundrum

Chapter Notes

Sorry for the wait, still recovering, honestly, so I've been a bit slower. Thank you to Kemisha and to Rainnasaurus for their contributions to this, and please, both of you, enjoy.

This is the longest chapter yet, so enjoy and let me know what you all think. Be warned of medical bits about the treatment of wounds. Any inaccuracies are my ignorance, and please just accept that some creative liberties have been taken. Enjoy the drama, the lace and the spice...

Strange phone calls that involved his Captain were becoming something of the norm in the last few days. It had started when they were away for the last game, not even a long stay by hockey standards, but Roz had been weird from the get-go. 

He had been glued to his phone in a way that Cliff had never seen before, not even when he had been messaging that girl from Montreal.

That Montreal girl had been around for as long as Roz had been a Bear; Cliff couldn’t actually remember a time when Roz was not texting the woman. 

However, these last few days, it had kicked up into a crazy amount, like not even their married teammates texted their wives this much. Everyone had noticed. Cliff had tried to get a look at a couple of times, but Roz had actually snarled at him, like an angry cat, a very fucking big, pissed-off cat. 

They had shared a room, and Cliff had felt he was walking on eggshells the whole time. Roz was usually pretty laid back; they had shared a room for years. Cliff liked to think Roz was his best friend, but right now, he barely recognised his young Captain. 

So, when his phone had rung, not long after they had gotten in early from their return flight, Cliff had just flopped onto his sofa in his boxers with a freshly opened beer. With a sigh, he put the beer down and picked up his phone. He hadn’t even gotten to drink anyway, but it was strange that Ilya was calling him so soon after they had parted. 

For half a second, Cliff thought about not answering, but the thought was gone as soon as it fluttered into his brain. He would never ignore his friend and Captain like that. After all, Ilya had been there for him before, when he had needed help.  

Ilya was calling then; it had to be important. Cliff was glad he hadn’t ignored it. 

By the time his friend had explained, Cliff was already throwing the first clean clothes on that he could find and making a run for his car. That tone, that level of restrained fury in Ilya’s voice, meant trouble, and Cliff was not going to ask questions; he was just going to help. His Captain didn't live that far from him now, which had been a bit of a surprise when the man had bought the massive, beautiful house a couple of years ago. Cliff and Victor, being the most regular visitors, were welcomed into the almost sacred space.   

The team spent a lot of time together, and as a general rule, they were pretty close as NHL teams went. It was usually Zane Boodram's, or Bood, as they all called him, place that they gathered at. The other winger was obsessed with his massive fucking grill, and really, really good with it, so there were very few complaints about using his house as a base. It was also pretty central among the rest of them. 

He had the gate code for Ilya’s fancy ass gates. There was an unfamiliar, very expensive sports car parked on the drive; it was not one of Ilya’s, but it could have been. Standing just on the inside of the gate was a tiny woman. Cliff recognised her as the Russian model-like woman who visited Ilya occasionally, but he hadn't ever spoken to her before. As he parked up, he could see an alarming, even for him, who was used to seeing rather gruesome injuries on the ice, amount of blood. She was leaning to one side and had a jacket wrapped around her right arm; crimson was dripping down her wrist despite the pressure. Her stunning green eyes were wide and shocked, but she was at least still on her feet. She looked pale under her olive skin tone, and it made Cliff frown as he quickly got out of the car to help her. 

He had no idea why Ilya had not rung for an ambulance, but obviously, there was more to this than he understood. First things first, he needed to get her to this Doctor who would be waiting for them. At least the hospital was close; it wouldn't take long. He carefully approached and held out his hand in concern. 

“Svetlana?”

Those glassy green eyes gave him a rather dismissive once-over for a woman bleeding through her jacket and onto the floor, but she allowed him to catch her by the uninjured elbow and guide her into the passenger side of his car. 

As they pulled out of the drive, he shot a quick text to Ilya to let him know that he had Svetlana and they were heading to the hospital. He kept looking over as she was leaning rather heavily on the door by the time he entered the nighttime parking of the huge hospital complex. Ilya’s instructions had said to go to the back entrance of the emergency room, and they would be met by the Doctor there. Cliff carefully followed the road until he got to a much smaller car park. 

 

There, standing just to the side of the doorway, was a stunning, if rather aggrieved-looking doctor. Her thick curls were twisted up into an elegant bun, and her arms were crossed under her chest as she watched them approach. 

“This way, come on. We only have a few minutes to get into the room before the next ambulance is due.”

Cliff walked to the side of Svetlana, fully prepared to catch her if she fell as the Doctor led them through to a fancy, private room away from the main emergency room. She clicked her card against the pad, and the door opened. As she stepped back to let them in, Cliff noticed she was a very tall woman, towering over the smaller Svetlana, as he tried not to look too obvious about catching the stubborn Russian.  

“Take a seat, please. Can you tell me your full name, please? ”

There was a pause as Svetlana wobbled just slightly on her feet; then again, Cliff didnt think those tall heels were really helping right now, but he didnt dare point that out. Svetlana looked a cross between ready to collapse and about to tear his head off if he so much as moved wrong. 

“Svetlana Vetrova. I am registered here.”

Dr Henderson nodded and pulled out a tablet as she gestured to the pristine hospital bed that Svetlana gracefully dropped to. There were a few quick taps of her long fingers, and then the tablet was set aside. Cliff watched as the Doctor snapped on some gloves and started pulling things out of drawers and cabinets. Once she had a whole range of medical-looking things set up neatly on a tray, she pulled up a stool and got to work. 

“I am going to give a shot of something for the pain and numb the area while I work. Any allergies before I do?”

There was a shake of those riotous curls as pained green eyes flashed in what Cliff thought was anger, although it was gone quicker than he could really tell. 

“No, no allergies.”

He looked away from the needles. Cliff admittedly was not the biggest fan of those things, and one of them looked particularly large in his eyes. Once it was safe to look again, Cliff kept a close eye on the Doctor as she skilfully cleaned up the mess that was Svetlana’s arm and shoulder. Then he turned to the Doctor to ask. 

“Can you stitch it up, or will she need surgery?”

He wanted to update Ilya, and he was also a little worried; now that the blood was being cleaned up, the wounds actually looked worse. One was particularly deep. Doctor Henderson put down the stained gauze in her hand and looked up at Svetlana, then Cliff, and went back to cleaning as she began speaking. 

“Svetlana, is it? Are you happy being addressed by your first name?”

The Russian woman nodded her head with gritted teeth. Cliff would put money on her being in a lot of pain, even with the painkilling injections and numbing the Doctor had done at first. 

“I can fix the damage here; the cuts are extremely precise and did not tear into the flesh. It must have been very quick and very sharp … whatever it was.”

This time, Cliff caught the suspicious look the Doctor was casting over both the injuries and Svetlana. 

“I have also called for a trusted nurse to bring in an IV kit and some blood for a transfusion, as you have lost more than I would like, but once I am finished, you shouldn’t need to stay overnight.”  

“What the fuck happened? Ilya really didn’t  bother to explain anything.”

Svetlana shot him a nasty look but huffed out a breath of pained air as the Doctor began to pinch bits of one of the larger wounds shut with her fingers. She muttered something in quick-fire Russian, which Cliff only caught a couple of words from because he could recognise them from when Roz really lost his temper and swore in Russian on the ice. 

“That is what I would like to know.” 

She had less of an accent than Ilya did, and her voice was lovely, but there was a cold, aloof quality that put Cliff off. 

“Ilya didn’t say he was injured, or anything; that asshole hasn’t gone and got a pet tiger or something else as inanely moronic, has he?!”

Cliff would like to say that he was exaggerating, but they had all seen the price tags on some of those cars their Captain had bought when he was younger. Never mind the price tag, Cliff could only imagine what that house had cost the younger man when he had bought it. That at least got a light, ladylike scoff from Svetlana, even as she winced slightly as the Doctor began to run the first line of stitches. Cliff winced in sympathy. Over his career, he had suffered his own fair share of stitches and never liked it. 

“Not unless you count a feral Shane fucking Hollander as a tiger, then no.”

It was quiet, and Cliff was pretty sure she hadn’t meant to say that in English, but all three of them froze for the barest of moments. There was no way she meant what that sounded like. He must have misheard her. Why would Shane Hollander, of all people, be in Ilya’s super private house when he had been at an away game? For that thought, why would Shane fucking Hollander attack a defenceless woman like this? Wasn't the man meant to be some kind of ‘Golden Boy’?

“Fuck. Sorry. I think that last hit it took must have affected my hearing; you didn’t just say Shane Hollander, right?”

That glare was back. Cliff held his hands up in silent apology and surrender. He felt like he was walking on eggshells here, and he wasn't the lightest on his feet. 

“I mean, why would Shane Hollander be in Ilya’s house? Did he attack you or something?”

He honestly couldn't keep the slight disbelief and utter incredulity at the thought out of his voice, but of all the things he could think of, Shane Hollander attacking someone was not high on any list. The Canadian had never even fought anyone on the ice; that one scuffle with Scott Hunter didn’t count. Neither goody-two-shoes had really hit the other after all. 

“Well, it wasn’t Ilya now, was it?”

In between, some rather annoyed-sounding Russian, Cliff caught the hissed line in the middle. So, apparently, had the Doctor, because she straightened up and gave Svetlana a severe, angry look.  

 

---

 

Dr Nadia Henderson was not an MCE specialist; she was, however, a damn good Chief of Surgery. She had met Doctor Gloria Foxley when she had been a senior resident and had opted to take the older woman’s seminar on MCE out of interest, but not looking at making it her area of expertise. Gloria was trying to educate other Doctors on how to more effectively diagnose and treat Male Carriers since there was a distinct lack of fully qualified MCEs. It was, after all, one of the hardest disciplines to succeed in, but that meant that there were often errors made in their ordinary medical care, which was where Gloria was trying to shore up the gaping hole in the education system for doctors.  

So when she got an emergency, coded message from her friend asking for a favour, she was damn well going to make it happen. For Gloria to be contacting her like this, it could only mean that a Male Carrier was involved; for her friend to be asking for her discretion, even more so. After extracting a promise that Gloria would fill her in on the details later, she had, of course, agreed. It wasn't exactly difficult to judge the cause of the rather horrific clawed lacerations. 

However, now she had gotten a good look at the utter state of this woman. Nadia was one hundred per cent sure that an enraged and instinct-driven Carrier had inflicted this damage. For this kind of injury, the Carrier had either had to be at a very high level or had to protect himself and his children. Whoever had done this had actual claws, comparable in size and strength to a lion's or tiger's, but without the serrated edges that would have normally ripped a human to shreds.  

These claws hadn’t torn the flesh; they had instead lanced in deep and around the shoulder, then travelled down the arm in visible, parallel gashes that couldn’t be anything other than an extremely pissed-off Carrier under a manifestation or a very large big cat. Since, to her knowledge, there were no reports of an escaped big cat, then there really could only be one conclusion. 

Nadia didn’t take long to come to this conclusion as she was working, her hands steady and sure as she began to piece together the edges of the open flesh. A knock at the door made her call out, not looking up from where she was assessing where best to start. In stepped her head nurse with everything she had asked for and more that she hadn't, but would need. As always, this woman could read her damn mind. 

“Dr Henderson, here are the IV and transfusion kits. Would you like me to stay and get them set up?”

Nadia allowed herself a quick, grateful smile. Another pair of skilled hands would be useful, and of all the people in this hospital, this was the person she trusted the most.  

“Please, also block this room off until we are done.”

The smaller woman quirked up an expectant eyebrow at her, like she had forgotten who exactly she was talking to right now. 

“Already done.”

Of course it was. Her wife was the smartest woman in this place after all, hence why she had paged her. The two of them worked quickly but perfectly in tandem. Nadia no longer had to pause to get anything; it was already being handed to her before she could even open her mouth to think about asking for it.

By the sounds of it, the painkillers were kicking in because their patient was suddenly talkative. She caught those bright, lovely hazel eyes that were narrowed behind her glasses in both concern and anger at what they were both hearing. It was no wonder that Gloria had asked her to intervene; obviously, the Carrier in question, who may or may not be Shane Hollander, was either newly presented or newly bonded. 

This meant that it was very likely that Hollander was above level 8 and that he was not registered yet; probably, Gloria was waiting for the paperwork, testing and confirmation to go through. This woman had no right to try and publicly out a bonded pair. Did she really have no clue what she had walked into? After all, they were hockey fans in the Henderson household; it wasn’t like she wouldn’t recognise Cliff Marlow when he walked into her hospital. Ilya could only be the Captain of their Boston team, Ilya Rozanov, and there wasn't a hockey fan who didn't know the name of the Voyageurs' number one Centre, Shane Hollander. It wasn't like Nadia hadn’t recognised Svetlana’s name either, even if she hadn't realised who she was at first sight.  

Listening to the two of them, Nadia could piece a lot of it together; it seemed like Marlow hadn't known, either. The sharp side eye that Kate was sending her from where she was cleaning up the final laceration kept her silent for a few minutes longer; that was until the whining about her knowing Ilya first started. 

“I just can’t believe he told me to get out; he has never shouted at me before, and I was not the one attacking people.”

Honestly, she sounded rather spoiled and entitled, like a child when someone else dared to play with their favourite toy. 

“I knew him first; he is my friend. I wasn’t doing anything wrong by being there.”

If she was looking for someone to take her side, that was not going to happen. In fact, Nadia opened her mouth as she put the last stitch in on the second, slightly smaller wound. 

“First of all, let me clue you in on a few things here, young lady. One, you are lucky to be alive because while these wounds are nasty, they are not life-threatening. If you disturb a bonded Carrier and his mate, then that Carrier is legally allowed to kill if you pose a threat. Looking at your wounds, either he was stopped, or he wasn’t aiming to kill. Secondly, you are utterly moronic if you think you are in the right to try to claim possession of a man who has willingly entered a bond. Third and finally, if you entered his Den or went near his Mate in any way that looked suggestive or threatening, then he had every right to defend his territory. Legally, not just morally here.”

 

There was a heavy, telling silence once she had finished. Nadia flicked her eyes over to her wife, who was wearing that particularly sweet expression of both pride and utter exasperation. Good. That meant Kate agreed wholeheartedly with what she had just said, even if she didn’t quite approve of how she had said it. 

Svetlana opened her mouth; her olive skin had flushed in what Nadia was assuming was embarrassment, as she now refused to look in Nadia’s direction; all that bravado, that earlier arrogance, had drained away. 

The quiet, sweet voice of Kate caused all three of them to look over in her direction. 

“Just as a point of reference, Miss Vetrova, whoever stepped in and stopped him, well, they saved your life. We have seen what happened when there was either no one there or they were unable to stop them. So just bear that in mind, in the future.”

Marlow coughed and looked up in wide-eyed confusion at both her and Kate as they finished up. The big man obviously had no idea what they were talking about, but Nadia could tell that Svetlana did. Nadia said no more, however, as she was pretty sure her point had been made; Kate carefully tidied up around them both as she finished up. Between them, they got the now-stitched wounds wrapped in sterile gauze, and the now-empty transfusion bag, and the IV needle could be removed.   

Nadia picked up the tablet to enter the details as she gestured for Kate to remove the two needles. The easiest explanation was a knife, which would cover the style of wounds, the kits and the stitches without anyone looking too closely. No one would question her as the Chief anyway, especially with Kate countersigning as the nurse on duty. Her wonderful wife had all her nurses well under control; they worshipped the ground she walked on, rightly so in Nadia’s opinion. 

Then she looked back at her patient; Svetlana looked better than she had; the blood and fluids had managed to erase the pale tint to her skin under that natural olive tone, but she would need an iron-rich diet for a couple of days while her body recovered.  

“All done, Svetlana. We don’t need to keep you, but you will need to follow the discharge instructions that Nurse Henderson will go through with you now. Follow the instructions, but do come back sooner if you experience any of the adverse side effects or symptoms listed before your follow-up appointment.” 

Nadia stood and stripped her gloves off. She gave them both a nod in farewell as she flicked open the bin and deposited the used gloves in it on her way past. Those all-knowing hazel eyes caught her own as she shut the door behind her. Kate was much better at this bit than she was; her wife was the best nurse in the hospital. If anyone could be polite in this situation, it was her. No, Nadia had a phone call to make in the privacy of her locked office, with the blinds closed and a strong cup of tea. Gloria had some explaining to do, and Nadia would get the older woman to fill her in on the plan; after all, if this was Shane Hollander bonded to Ilya Rozanov, then Gloria herself would need a temporary transfer here, and that was within Nadia’s area to facilitate. That was, of course, after she had finished getting all the details she could until her friend got here. 

 

---

 

As the steady sound of Dr Henderson's footsteps faded into the silence, Cliff stood from the chair he had folded himself into. Svetlana looked a lot better than when they had arrived. The colour had returned under her olive skin, and her eyes were much brighter. All the blood had been cleaned up, and the stitches were neatly wrapped in pristine white bandages. 

The nurse who was still in the room with them was carefully going through all the information that would allow Svetlana to be discharged. Cliff only half listened as he pulled out his phone and shot a text off to Ilya. 

 

Cliff ➡️ All patched up. Being discharged now. You okay, man?

 

It took a few minutes, but there was a response as his phone vibrated softly in his hand. 

 

Ilya ➡️ Fine. Bring her back here, but not through the gates. Will meet you. I need to talk to her.

 

That did not sound good, but Cliff was not going to argue. Instead, he sent a thumbs-up back and concentrated on the conversation in front of him. The nice nurse had brought in a wheelchair and had somehow coaxed the prickly woman to sit in it as they were guided back to the staff entrance they had come in through. The corridors were quiet, and those nurses that they did see all bowed their heads in respect and continued as if this was nothing out of the ordinary.  

Cliff reached down to offer his hand, but was ignored, and Svetlana carefully but gracefully got to her own feet as they stood outside the open door. Nurse Henderson gave them both a polite smile as she pointed to the exit labelled ‘staff only’. 

“I have let Mr Price know to let you out of the gate even though you haven’t got a pass. When you come back in a week, you will need to do the same, and I will be waiting at the door to escort you. Have a good day now. Please call the number on your discharge papers if there are any issues. That is a direct line to Dr Henderson or me.”

Gracefully, with those dark curls that swished as she turned the wheelchair skillfully in a neat circle and headed back inside. Cliff kept his large hand not quite touching, but close enough to catch if the stubborn woman stumbled again as they made their careful way to his car. Cliff helped ease her into it, and then they were off. He wasn't sure whether telling her that Ilya had all but demanded that he bring her back was a good idea, so he kept his mouth shut and drove. If Svetlana wanted to know, then she could ask, but she stayed silent, green eyes closed and seemingly dozing elegantly against the car door.  

Ilya must have been watching for them on the camera because of the huge, broad form of his Captain, who was striding out to meet them as Cliff stopped the car at the gate. Svetlana tensed ever so slightly in the seat next to him, but no one else was with Ilya. Cliff opened his door and stepped out. He gave the younger man a quick glance over; he looked perfectly fine, was clearly uninjured anyway, even if there was a cold, glittering anger in those dark blue eyes that Cliff hadn’t seen since he had had that unfortunate hit on Hollander. It, however, was not directed at him right now; no, that gaze was fixed on the passenger seat of his car. 

Cliff watched as Ilya stopped a few feet away, those furious eyes locked onto Svetlana as she resolutely turned her face away from the blond and didn’t move. He came around the car and took a step toward his Captain. 

“Ilya?”

He flinched when that icy gaze turned to him, but instead, some of that fury softened, and his friend gestured for him to come closer, while barking out some rather angry-sounding Russian. 

“Sveta. Get out of the car. We need to talk.”

Then he looked at Cliff and grimaced at the blood on his shirt. Cliff shrugged, but his Captain pointed inside the house. 

“Go clean up, Cliff; will follow in a minute. Give me your keys; will pull your car in once Sveta’s gone. Do not go any further than the downstairs bathroom till I get there.”

There was a seriousness to the Russian’s voice that he just wasn't used to hearing off the ice, but Cliff was programmed to obey that tone from his Captain, so he just nodded and moved past the blond to cautiously enter the massive house. He was wary, but Ilya had said it was okay, and above all, he trusted his Captain. Still, Cliff cast his eyes around the hallway; all was silent and calm, but he moved quickly into the neat, fully stocked guest bathroom closest to the front door. 

A sound from above made him pause, but nothing happened, even after he stood stock still in a sudden fear that he couldn’t have explained if he tried. Once his hindbrain accepted the fact that he was still safe, Cliff yanked his shirt off and began to wash the dried blood off his skin. As it turned out, with the front door open, he could still hear the loud, angry Russian from drifting in from outside, even if he couldn’t understand anything other than the all-too-familiar swear words that Ilya used way too frequently. 

“I can’t believe you, Ilya. You are still taking his side, after what he did?”

Svetlana was sounding increasingly angry, but Ilya was terrifying; his voice was getting colder, darker and harder as they continued, the volume steadily increasing as it went back and forth. 

“What did you think, Sveta? I asked you not to do this, yet you do it anyway. You are smarter than this.”

Ilya’s voice was dropping to a dangerous growl. Cliff tried not to listen, but it was so rare to hear Ilya speak in full Russian that he couldn’t help it. There was something so captivating yet thoroughly intimidating about the cadence that Ilya’s English, while good, lacked.  

“Oh fuck you, Ilya. How dare you blame this all on me?”

There was a snarl, low and nasty, so much so that Cliff almost went back out to see, but he trusted Ilya; his Captain was not someone who would physically lash out, especially at a woman. 

“Da. I blame this all on you. I trusted you, Sveta. I asked you to stay away for a while, and yet you not only did the exact opposite, but you broke my trust. Sveta, for fuck sake, you came in looking for sex in front of my mate!”

Ilya was roaring in fury now. His voice had gotten progressively louder and heavier. Cliff flattened himself against the wall out of some hidden instinct. He suddenly got a flash of memory of the other day, when he had been sent to check on their missing Captain after no one could get hold of the Russian after he had disappeared with little to no explanation. There had been an aura, a heavy, dangerous presence around his friend that day that had frightened him; he had felt this same instinct then. He had bowed his head; he had lowered himself so he wasn't looking above or into those dangerous eyes. This was the same sort of feeling.  

“You didn't tell me! How was I meant to know?”

Svetlana sounded snippish now; even Cliff could hear it, and he couldn’t understand them. 

“It's called trust, Svetlana. You were meant to trust that I had good reasons! I was trying to protect my mate and you, but once again you thought you were right and everyone else was wrong.”

There was a deep, pained sigh from Ilya, but at least the volume had gone down a bit. 

“I deserved more than a vague text, Ilya. Now you won’t even let me near the front door.”

The volume might have gone down, but Svetlana was not backing down, even if Ilya had clearly had enough. 

“Just go, Sveta. I will call you later. Please keep this to yourself.”

 

A car door slammed, and an engine roared. Cliff straightened from where he was leaning as he heard the front door close. The familiar footsteps of his Captain made their way towards him, and he slowly dared to crack the door open. He was greeted with Ilya’s tired, drawn face, but the Russian put on a small half-smirk, half-smile for him as he stopped just outside. 

“You can come out now, Marly. It’s safe.”

If Cliff hadn’t seen the utter mess that Svetlana had been in a few hours before, he might have believed that or just thought that his friend was making a joke. However, since he had seen the mess, he was more wary of whatever was going on here. He let out a huff, sort of fear, sort of laughter, as he edged out of the bathroom, stained shirt in his hand and chest still bare. 

“I wish I could believe you, man, but I have no fucking clue what is going on here.”

Ilya took the shirt out of his hand and padded through to the laundry room. Cliff trailed after him and almost missed the flying, clean item that nearly hit him squarely in the face if he hadn’t put his hand up at the last moment. 

“Put that on, Cliff; you don’t want to give the wrong impression right now. Not sure I have it in me to stop a second murder today.”

Again, Cliff had no idea if Ilya was joking or not, but he quickly yanked the borrowed T-shirt over his head. Although he was taller, there actually wasn't much difference in their builds, so the tank fitted him well enough. Armholes would have been a problem, but Ilya wore what Cliff could only call slutty tanks with massive gaps in the sides to show off his chest at all possible moments, so it was fine even with his bulkier arms. 

“See, I have no idea if you're joking anymore or not.”

The smirk that Ilya shot at him was no answer at all, but he still followed as Ilya went through to the living room and flopped down on the familiar sofa. Cool bottles of beer, and strangely, a large can of ginger ale were ready and waiting on the coffee table. Cliff grabbed the beer gratefully. It had been a long afternoon, and he hadn't even managed to open his earlier one before Ilya had called him. 

The Russian sat opposite him and leaned forward, his muscular arms tensed as he braced them on his knees. There was that serious look again; Cliff swallowed nervously and tried to appear casual, but by the raised eyebrow, it got him. He knew he was not fooling his friend.  

“Not joking, but I do need to tell you a few things. First, how much did Sveta tell you?”

Cliff relaxed slightly but still frowned as he tried to piece together the English half that he had understood of Svetlana’s complaints earlier. 

“She said that it was Shane Hollander here, and he attacked her somehow?”

Ilya snarled softly. There was a clear band of gold in those blue eyes now, and that heavy, oppressive aura was back. It was making the air feel thick, like there was pressure on the back of his neck trying to force him to the floor.

“She was in the wrong.”

Cliff swallowed nervously. 

“So Shane Hollander is actually here? She was telling the truth?”

Those eyes turned darker gold, more of the blue being eaten up by the glowing colour. 

“See for yourself.”

 

A sound made Cliff snap his eyes to the stairs. There, in a too-big Bears hoodie and clearly too-long sweats, stood Shane Hollander. Those pretty brown eyes also glowed that strange golden colour, and his strong hands flexed at his sides. Ilya stood and stalked over to the smaller man. Cliff almost wanted to shout at his friend to run, but that same sort of survival instinct kicked in, and he bit his tongue to keep silent. 

He wasn't sure what was the most shocking: the sight of Shane Hollander actually in Ilya Rozanov's house, wearing what were clearly his friend's clothes or the huge hands that were wrapped around those ample hips, then the sudden movement as Ilya dropped his head and kissed the smaller man. That was not a first, gentle kiss, oh fuck no. Cliff stared. Ilya had his arms clamped around the pretty, dark-haired Canadian and had his tongue down his throat. The purr that started sounded like a very large, very dangerous cat. Cliff began to scan the room a bit frantically, but they all knew that Ilya was a dog person, so it didn't make any sense until he twigged that the noise was actually coming from Hollander.  

Cliff could actually see the claws that were flexing on Ilya’s broad back from where he was; they looked wickedly sharp, and with the way they were flexing, it looked like they were close to tearing through the fabric of Ilya’s own hoodie. He debated clearing his throat to remind them that he was there when he saw Ilya slip both hands up under the clothes and around that supine back to haul the muscular form tightly against his chest, but the purring was suddenly cut off as Hollander began sniffing at Ilya’s neck and throat. 

Instead of the purr, the sound shifted to an angry hiss, and then Ilya was hastily lifting his hands out from under the hoodie to soothe his thumbs across those cut cheekbones and murmuring things in deep, honeyed Russian. 

“Sweetheart, easy now, I promise she didn’t touch me. Didn’t come close at all. I didn’t let her.”

It was such a switch from the tone earlier that Cliff stared. He could feel his jaw had dropped, and he was probably just drawing attention to himself, but he couldn’t fucking help it. In all the years that he had known Ilya Rozanov, he had never heard the man sound like that. 

Hollander grumbled, but the hissing eased; those wicked-looking claws hadn’t yet let go, had in fact dug in harder and left crescent-shaped holes. Ilya wrapped his arms around the smaller man and petted that silky-looking, jet-black hair. The purr stuttered to a slow start again at the touch, and Ilya seemed to suddenly remember that he was still in the room because he lifted his head and met Cliff's stunned face. His own was impassive and unreadable, so he had no chance to read any of the thoughts there, but there was a possessive, dark gleam in those eyes, under that bright gold. 

Cliff made sure to keep his body language as relaxed and as unthreatening as possible. There was a niggling little thought in the depths of his high school memories somewhere, but the more he tried to chase it, the more it succeeded in evading his grasp. Ilya wrapped a huge arm around that neat waist and half-guided, half-pushed Hollander further into the room. 

If he had thought Ilya’s eyes were terrifying, then he had been very mistaken because Shane Hollander right now looked like he was considering which of his organs would look best presented on the rug at his feet. Those usually sweet, kind brown eyes were completely gold and glittering. A soft clack as the rather deadly-looking claws tapped softly together; Cliff was extremely grateful that his friend had a tight hold on that strong body. 

“Er, Captain, Ilya man, you wanna clue me in here? Like, maybe before I get torn to shreds?” 

There was a snort from Ilya, but Hollander just moved gracefully to sit as far away from Cliff as possible and glared up at Ilya. Cliff shuddered, and the look wasn’t even directed at him. The Russian just smirked down at the smaller man and promptly scooped him up, like the solid, what, 5’10? A roughly 200lb, Cliff would guess, professional athlete didn’t fucking weigh anything. Ilya then proceeded to sit them both down opposite Cliff, with Hollander snug in his lap. One arm wrapped around that waist, and the other stroking at a thick thigh that was draped over his own.   

Cliff watched as that blond head was lowered and a kiss was brushed to that full mouth, as Hollander’s glare softened; in fact, that whole body softened and relaxed into Ilya’s hold. 

Like it was familiar, safe; even Cliff was starting to put two and two together to get four now. It was not the fact that they were two men; it would have bothered a lot of hockey players, but Ilya had been adamant when he had first been made Captain that he would not stand for that kind of behaviour or language in the Bears locker room anymore. The core of their team had been behind their new young Captain, but those who hadn’t been able to accept it and embrace Ilya’s new way of leadership had been quietly traded or retired over the next couple of seasons. The last one had gone two years ago. Cliff was proud of their team, now more so than ever. 

It wasn’t like Cliff hadn’t looked before. After all, he spent 90% of his time with some very attractive men. He wasn’t fucking blind; he himself had worked on a couple of modelling adverts, and he knew the likes of Shane Hollander, Scott Hunter and Ilya, too, had as well. In fact, Hollander had more than most. Then there were the ones with the more exotic beauty. If asked for an example, then Cliff would point at his fellow, stunningly attractive Winger, Victor St-Simone. 

Far from being unaware that Ilya was attractive, Cliff was more than familiar with the concept; you couldn’t exactly miss it, but the Russian didn’t do anything personally for Cliff. Whereas more than once, Victor had. No one knew that Cliff wasn't actually as dumb as everyone thought he was; well, he was, but not like this. He knew hockey was shit for anyone not white and so straight they were a fucking metal ruler, so he kept his silence. He had looked through. Havingn't been able to resist a couple of times, Victor was tactile, and they were good friends. It was just that this friend had legs a mile long, dark skin that was so smooth and unblemished, it captivated Cliff’s gaze and could nearly bench press as much as he could. Victor was strong but not the same sort of bulk as he and Ilya possessed, more like Hollander, actually. Broad shoulders, powerfully built thighs and legs, a fuller, softer shape than the chiselled structure they had, even if Ilya was actually more cut than he was these days.   

 

He was snapped out of his imaginings of Victor in his clothes, like Hollander was clearly in Ilya’s, by the low chuckle from his Captain. 

“You okay there, Cliff?”

With a shake of his head, Cliff dragged his attention back to the current situation. He needed to be careful here and measure his words. 

This was not the time to be daydreaming about beautiful, long legs and how they might look in his lap, mirroring the image he was seeing across from him. He was also going to ignore the very knowing smirk that was being sent his way, too. Cliff was keenly aware of the devastation that particular expression could cause, and he had been burned before. 

“Whatever the fuck you are thinking, Roz, just don’t. I know that look.”

There was a sudden hiss from the previously still form draped across Ilya’s lap, which had both of them switching their attention to the more urgent topic at hand; chirping at each other could happen later. When there wasn't a beautiful but clearly deadly Shane Hollander in Ilya’s lap. 

He watched as Ilya automatically soothed the annoyed man, his large hands rubbing so gently at the back of that neck, into the jet-black hair as he murmured in Russian. 

Once Hollander settled again, this time those golden eyes were turned in his direction; the gaze sent a shiver down his spine as he tried not to look directly into them. That's what was advised with a hunting lioness, right?  

“Never mind. Cliff, how much do you know about Male Carriers?”

It was like someone had thrown a switch. That was what had been swimming around in the back of his head all this time. Male Carriers were rare, extremely so, in fact, but everyone learned the basics in school, or at least their school had. All male teenagers got tested. It was required. So the question was, had Hollander known or was he one of the ones who slipped through? They were reported in the news occasionally, when they were discovered, and carted away to be basically auctioned off for the government's gain. 

“Not much. Hollander?”

Ilya nodded. His hands tightened momentarily on the precious bundle in his arms. Cliff could almost see something shimmering between them in the air itself. The way Ilya looked at Hollander was like someone had just punched him straight in the gut. How had he not seen this before? Just how long had this been going on?

“Da. Shane is a Carrier. We are bonded.”

There it was. Confirmation. Fuck. 

Cliff looked between the two of them. Ilya was tense, worried, but trying not to show it. They had been friends for years. Ilya was his best friend; actually, he was well aware that Cliff supported his inclusive locker room movement wholeheartedly, but it was true that it was very different to essentially out both himself and his supposed rival in the same breath.  

“Fuck. Congrats Ilya. I mean it.”

He wasn’t good with words, but he knew that Ilya would be able to see the true, honest sincerity under the clumsy verbal bits. From the instant relaxation of Ilya’s tense body, and the purr that started up again from Hollander, it was a good sign.

Hollander sat up. Cliff kept his gaze friendly and open as soft brown had begun to bleed back into the gold. Hollander, Shane, he supposed he should start getting used to that, shouldn't he? Didn't actually get off Ilya’s lap; instead, he used one large thigh to nudge and move the bigger Russian to where he wanted him and then proceeded to curl back up into the now available space in the V shape he had made, his back to Ilya’s chest as those arms snaked back around to cuddle the smaller man close as they re-settled themselves. 

For the first time, Shane spoke. His voice was smooth and deep, a husky rumble with that purr left in it that made it very alluring. 

“You don't care that your Captain likes men?”

Ilya dropped his head to the back of Shane’s shoulder with a groan and a low grumble in Russian. 

“Lyubimyy, I promise he means no harm.”

Cliff still couldn’t understand, but he could see that Shane Hollander could. He narrowed his eyes at the Canadian in puzzlement. How fluent in Russian was the smaller man?

“Can you actually understand Russian?”

He hadn't meant to just blurt it out, but Cliff was rubbish at holding his tongue on a good day, and his brain was short-circuiting from an overload of information right now. 

Ilya smirked at him from over one broad shoulder as he nuzzled into that neck. Cliff saw him sneak a kiss in there as Shane was distracted by analysing him rather than keeping his attention on the Russian. 

Let it be said that Cliff was already aware that Shane Hollander was smart, but until this moment, he had no idea the Canadian was also sassy. In what sounded like fully fluent Russian, Shane cocked his head to one side and replied to what was probably meant to be both of them. That was if Cliff could understand, which he still couldn't, much to his growing frustration. Maybe he should make Ilya teach him as punishment for the mess this whole situation was going to be. 

“Da, of course I can. Ilyusha, I know you trust him, but how much are we telling here? What about the baby?”

There was an aborted little movement of both Ilya’s hand around Shane’s waist and the Canadian’s hand where it was resting on the arm wrapped around him. Cliff stayed silent. He was patient; he could wait them out. 

“Nyet. Not yet. One surprise at a time, sweetheart.”

Shane reached down to play with Ilya’s fingers, the movement a comfortable one, like he had done it lots of times before; maybe he had. Cliff was starting to have a sneaking suspicion that this had been going on for a lot longer than he had first thought. Well, as his grandmother would say, 

"Quand le vin est tiré, il faut le boire." Which literally meant "When the wine is drawn, it must be drunk." 

“Just how long has this been going on, Captain?”

As he said ‘this’, he gestured to Shane in Ilya’s lap and shrugged his massive shoulders to get more comfortable on the sofa. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon; that was obvious, and he was dying to know the details. He was a gossip, so sue him. 

 

The pair shared a look. A silent communication that answered the question; really, you weren’t able to communicate nonverbally like that, with just a glance, without years and years of studying each other. Of knowing each other in a way that no one else did. 

Shane answered first. 

“Since we were drafted.”

But then Ilya was shaking his head and giving those silky locks a playful tug as he was playing with a strand between two fingers. 

“Nyet. Before that, the summer before. Lyubimyy. Outside that dingy, shitshow of a rink in Saskatchewan. Remember?”

Shane paused, then nodded. 

“The International Prospect Cup in Saskatchewan. I told you you couldn’t smoke there.”

Ilya chuckled and gave the smaller man in his lap a squeeze. His hands were firm but obviously familiar with the hold. Cliff leaned forward and looked at Hollander. 

“Hollander …”

He didn’t get any further because that soft, lilting voice interrupted him, politely, mind.

“Sorry, but Shane, you can call me Shane. You are important to Ilya, so Shane, please.”

Cliff ducked his head to hide the pleased and embarrassed look he just knew was all over his face. That sweet, little nervous smile that Shane had hit him with was lethal, combined with those big, pretty brown doe eyes, and Cliff was pretty sure that overexposure was going to give him a heart attack or get him killed by his best friend, by the jealous glint that entered Ilya’s eyes. Shane was a little bit awkward, a little unsure of how to talk to him, or at least that was the vibe Cliff was getting from the smaller man. 

“Ok, sure. Shane, then call me Cliff, or Marly. I don’t mind.”

There was a grumbling growl from Ilya as the Russian rather gently hooked his arms around Shane’s middle and pulled him possessively back into his hold. Like some sort of massive, coiling python pulling its prey back in when it tried to escape. Except this prey looked not only willing but happy to snuggle in and allowed the tight grip. 

It was both rather amusing and really quite intimate. Cliff looked away for a moment as Shane soothed a hand through those blond curls and tilted Ilya’s head so he could press their foreheads together. Somehow, the sweet, gentle touch was almost more sexual than the kissing before. The air around the two faintly crackled with energy; it made the hairs stand up on the back of Cliff’s neck, and goosebumps rose along his arms in reaction. 

Shane pulled back and pressed a quick, tender kiss to Ilya’s lips before he turned back to Cliff, not leaving his position but angling himself so they could comfortably talk. 

“I’m sorry, Cliff, you were saying?”

Man, he really was as polite as all those interviews painted him to be. How the fuck had Ilya Rozanov, the Russian menace of Boston, captured and bonded with such a stunning man, so genuine, so polite and fucking annoyingly amazing at hockey, when Ilya was loud, brash and honestly more than a bit of an asshol?. 

He didn't mean to ask it out loud, but his brain-to-mouth filter was low on a good day, and it was non-existent today.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Roz? How did you get your sleezy, man whores, paws on Shane Hollander?!”

The Russian shot him a filthy smirk and pointedly rubbed his hands up the smaller man’s chest before wrapping around him like a massive snake again to sort of aggressively bite at the exposed neck, where he was now actively looking. Cliff could already see a pattern of fresh-looking teeth marks, bruises and forming hickeys. 

“Size of my dick had a lot to do with it.”

A loud squeak came from a suddenly bright red Shane Hollander as Ilya was smacked across his broad chest by a strong arm. 

“Ilyusha, you can not tell people I fell for you because of your huge cock. Please fucking don’t!”

Cliff looked from one to the other. He actually wasn't even surprised by Ilya not only claiming he had a massive dick; he did, but they had all seen the man, who made absolutely no effort to hide, in the locker room. Cliff did not blame him, not one bit, even though it was a little intimidating at first. But he was still very surprised at the fluent fucking Russian that had just come not from Ilya but from Shane. This was not a casual, know how to order food, ask-directions kind of knowing a language. This was a full understanding and ability to hold full conversations; all while he sounded like Ilya, he sounded almost native, at least to Cliff’s not-educated-in-Russian ears. 

He choked on the sip of beer he had just taken, waved off the concerned look the Canadian was giving him and threw his Captain a betrayed look. 

“You really understand this motherfucker?! Like fully? Not just bits and the swear words he fucking uses all the time?”

Shane, who still looked mildly concerned, just nodded and went back to hissing what sounded like rather annoyed reprimands, even without Cliff being able to follow them, if the ridiculous-looking pout that Ilya levelled at his partner was any indication. 

Cliff collapsed back into the comfortable sofa and downed the last of his beer in desperation. His head was spinning, and not from the alcohol; he needed to get all this information straight before his head exploded. 

He put the empty bottle down and roughly scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his face. By the time he looked back up, the pair had stopped whatever argument slash flirting they had been doing and were both looking at him. 

“Fuck. Look, give me a moment, please. Cap, can you just explain it to me from the start, but simply?”

Ilya cocked his head to one side; those intelligent, knowing eyes had eased back to mostly dark blue. The gold only remained as a ring around the edges. 

They had known each other since the younger man had been drafted, been friends since that first season together. Ilya understood what Cliff was asking here. Ilya shifted, carefully holding the smaller man steady as he used the other hand to pass him the can of ginger ale.

“Drink, Lyubimyy.”

There was no hesitation at all; Shane took the can, snapped open the lid and began to sip at it as Ilya readjusted them so he could keep one eye still on the pretty Canadian in his lap and the other focused on Cliff. A large hand had migrated to rub soothing circles across a thick thigh as Ilya started to speak. The words were slow, as if he was trying to piece together the English at first, but it got steadier as Shane nestled back into his chest and tucked his head under the blond’s chin.  

“We have been something to each other since we were teenagers. More than we knew, less than we wanted. Hooking up came first. Casual, or at least that's the lie we tried to believe, and it was a lie from the very start. A communication error on my behalf caused Shane to spook, which is where Landry happened.”

Here, Ilya paused as Shane lifted his head to nuzzle their cheeks together; a soft croon in Russian floated over as he wrapped his free arm up and around Ilya’s shoulders. It was soft, it was tender, and it was very much the gesture of love. Cliff felt the sharper stab of jealousy at the affection shared between them. This time, it was Shane who picked the narrative back up.  

“I was stupid and scared. Should never have run. I’m sorry, Ilyusha, but we made up at the Tampa game. Couldn’t stay apart too long anymore. Then our game against Boston happened.”

 

That caused Cliff to wince at the reminder of what exactly had happened at that game. He hadn't meant to hurt the smaller man; it had just been bad timing all around. That hadn’t stopped Ilya from not even being able to look at Cliff when he had appeared just in time for the start of the game after he had disappeared, gone into dark mode, then ignored them all for days. 

Something clicked in Cliff’s brain as he was thinking back over the timeline of all this. He tried not to think too hard about just how long the pair had been seeing each other; it hurt his head, but he was sure now he had worked out where Ilya had bolted to.

“You went back to Montreal.”

It wasn’t a question, but Ilya nodded anyway.  

“The hospital called me. Shane was not good.”

Here, Shane suddenly gripped the arm around his waist; the gold flared again in both of their eyes as the air got colder, heavier, just for a moment until it passed. 

“I was more injured from the accident than they realised at first. Once certain information came to light, Ilya was contacted. My Doctor was not so impressed with the ones treating me at first. Think I was maybe kidnapped by scary nurses? It is all a bit foggy, really, until Ilya showed up. My Doctor wouldn’t let me leave unless it was with Ilya. Medically, separation was not advised.”

Cliff honestly did not know much about Carriers, but he did know that bonds were strange and required specialists to look at them, so he figured this was what Shane was talking about.

“You are alright now, though? Come to think of it, you look remarkably well healed for someone who had broken bones barely a week ago.”

He was worried. This was his best friend’s partner? Boyfriend? Whatever they were going by, and Cliff didn’t want a repeat of the mood Ilya had been in at their away game.  

“Much better, thank you.”

He couldn’t help but wonder what the plan was now, though. Was Shane just going to hide out in Ilya’s house until the end of the summer? They couldn’t exactly be seen walking around together; the media would have a field day, never mind the fans. Hockey fans were finicky at best and downright homophobic in a lot of ways. Cliff would put money on no one knowing that Shane Hollander was even in Boston; the last he had read online was that the star centre of the Voyageurs was still in hospital. He voiced the worry, knowing Shane Hollander, then the Canadian, already had a plan. 

“So what is the plan now then?”

There was another silent, quicksilver communication between them before Ilya took over, handing back the ginger ale with a gentle tap on that pink, plump bottom lip. 

“Shane stays here with me. We win the cup. That is the plan for now.”

The gold glow in their eyes was back. Obviously, Cliff had hit a sore spot and was more than willing to back away. He didn't want to take his chances with those claws, not after he had seen just how much damage they could do. He held up his hands in silent surrender. 

“No worries. Happy to help however I can, Captain.”

He kept his body relaxed and his posture low, non-threatening, agreeable. He was not challenging any decisions here, and he needed them both to know that. 

The pressure that had started to build up in the air again with the reappearance of the gold eased at his clear deference and acceptance. 

Ilya forcibly relaxed. Cliff could see the effort it took his friend and decided that he had overstayed his welcome. It was time to go and leave the pair in peace. He would get more details as time went on; at least now he could help, could be a support, maybe even to both of them now. This was not going to be easy, no matter what happened.   

Slowly, he caught Ilya’s eye and gestured to the door in a silent question. The blond gave him a grateful nod and carefully lifted Shane off his lap. Cliff watched with utter fascination as those corded biceps tensed with the seemingly effortless motion of lifting someone Shane Hollander’s size with such tender, easy affection. 

As Ilya walked Cliff to the door, Shane didn’t follow; instead, Cliff could just see the smaller man as he waited on the stairs. Fully golden eyes tracked his movement, and Cliff made sure to keep his head down and his neck on display. He didn't know what sort of instinct, sixth sense? Whatever it was that was at play here, he was damn well listening to it. 

“See you at practice in the morning?”

It was more of a question than Cliff meant it to come out as, but Ilya nodded and gave him a real smile, not one he saw often, since it was his real smile, not the half-smirk that was usually on that handsome face.   

“Da. Yes. Thanks for, you know, taking this so well, Cliff.”

Cliff gave Ilya a look he hadn’t used since his Captain had been a Rookie, but it had the desired effect because Ilya was suddenly standing taller, his shoulders back, and he had lost that wary, edgy look. 

“We are friends, best friends if you want to get all chick-like on me. Of course, I was going to support you. Which you knew, or wouldn’t have let me see Shane; you would have kept him away.”

Ilya didn’t bother to deny it. 

Instead, he chucked Cliff’s car keys back at him and waved him off from the door. As he drove home, he had to pinch his arm a few times to make sure he wasn’t either drunk or concussed again. The sting of pain made it quite clear that he was completely sober, way too sober in fact, for this mess, but it was too late to do anything about it. He was neck-deep in this shit now, too, and he was determined to be as supportive as possible. They were going to need it. 

---

   

Shane was waiting for him on the stairs. Those beautiful chocolate eyes were that same solid gold again, with the flaring of their bond in the shared mindscape. The lake wasn’t angry as such, but the rivers of molten gold were agitated; they swished rhythmically against the edges, spilling over ever so slightly and then retreating again. His serpentine rope was looping steadily, not at all bothered by the clear trouble that was brewing under it. Ilya cast it a look; not at the end that wasn’t connected to the centre of Shane’s lake, the end that was shaped more and more like a snake head, came looping over. The thick, strong body swam and undulated gracefully through the air as that distinctly snake-shaped head nudged him softly, almost in apology, as he drew back from their mindscape. 

A clawed hand hooked into the front of his hoodie, and he let out a startled grunt as he was pretty much dragged through to their bedroom. The door was shut behind them with a distinctly sharp snap. Shane was instantly pulling at his clothing, not quite tearing, but clearly not happy as Ilya was obviously being too slow to get with his mate’s program. He got an unhappy hiss as those claws were flexed in silent warning; he ran his hands up Shane’s flanks and kissed him, swallowing down the sudden switch from a hiss to a needy mewl. 

“What’s wrong, Lyubimyy?” 

Shane yanked at his clothes again and pulled Ilya into the bathroom, his cute little nose crinkled in obvious distaste. 

“I can still smell her on you.”

The bond was humming, a low undercurrent of agitation that was sending sparks across Ilya’s skin. Shane was not wasting time; he had Ilya’s hoodie and tank off before he dropped to his knees and hauled down Ilya’s sweats and boxers in one go. He had removed his own clothes before manhandling Ilya into the bathroom.  

Ilya let out a groan as he felt Shane nuzzle into his rapidly hardening cock. He threaded his fingers into that thick, silky hair as that lovely, hot mouth began to kitten-lick at the underside of his cock. 

As much as he would love to make Shane cry and choke on his cock, that was not his plan right now and from the way the bond was swirling within the carved pattern and splashing up towards his serpentine rope that was coiled in the middle. Little flickers of gold were dancing along Shane’s gleaming, tanned skin as Ilya dragged his hands down to guide him back up. A slight mew of protest was the only noise that Shane made, but it was soon switched to a more pleasurable one when Ilya wrapped his hand around that lithe throat to kiss him. 

Ilya pressed his thumb into the edge of Shane’s jaw and greedily swallowed the gasp it earned him as he carefully forced that plush mouth open and deepened the kiss. Shane was pressed up against his front, and Ilya groaned at the feeling. 

Only then, as Ilya ran his hand down Shane’s chest, did he pause to rub the rough pads of his fingers over the sensitive nipples that hardened to little buds under his touch. Shane moaned and arched up into his hands; the movement caused Ilya to realise that Shane was still wearing something, a delicate, pretty little lace something. He eased back a bit to look, and there, cradling the soft swell of Shane’s lower belly, was a black and gold lace pair of panties. The dainty gold bow sat perfectly in the centre, pointing towards the large bulge that was stretched around his hard cock. Ilya growled in desperation at the sight. 

“Fuck…” 

It was torn from the back of his throat as he slipped a finger along the ribbon at the top of where the panties were cradling the little swell of their baby. He both wanted to tear them off with his teeth and see if he could manage to fuck his mate with them still on. 

As he explored the edge, he brushed his finger across the caged, and already leaking cock that was starting to leave a noticeable damp patch on the front of the lace. 

He cupped the whole bulge with his palm and gave it a firm squeeze; the lace slipped and rubbed sensually under his hand, and Shane’s beautiful, now fully gold eyes were wide and glassy with heat that was flooding between them down the bond. Golden light was glowing all around them both, and sparks flickered from each touch. 

Ilya rubbed and played with the trapped length of Shane’s cock through the lace panties. He dipped his finger inside the waistband and teased the wet, leaking head out, so it was pressed up against the gentle curve of his belly by the strip of ribbon. He groaned lowly and slanted their mouths back together in a kiss that had Shane moaning and opening up to let Ilya drive his tongue inside in hot, wet swipes, taking in every inch to taste and savour the hot little pants that Shane was now making.

“Ilyusha … please.”

The honeyed, desperate way Shane mewled his name sent heat straight to his cock. Shane was close; Ilya could feel the way his cock was twitching and pulsing under his hand. He growled into Shane’s neck as he layered imprints of his sharper canine teeth over the bruises and hickeys already there. 

“You are going to come like this for me, all over these lovely little panties”

It was a command, not a request. Shane moaned and clung to Ilya’s shoulders as he shuddered and whined, his hips chasing the friction as his cock spurted ribbons of hot, wet come all over the pretty lace. 

Ilya forced his own cock under control as he watched Shane make a lovely mess all over those panties. He caught his mate around the waist as his body sagged with the release, then eased off the wet, ruined lace. Heated golden eyes were half-lidded and watching him as he carefully put them in the hamper to be washed. Without letting go, he leaned over to turn the shower on, and as soon as it was warm enough, he manoeuvred them both under the spray.     

Shane melted into him as he eased his hands over the tightness in his chest and belly. Ilya could feel the tension had caused a bit of soreness, and gently he massaged one of the soothing body washes into the taut skin. After a few minutes, a bit of awareness lit back in Shane’s eyes; a strong hand came up to cup Ilya’s jaw and tilt his head down so Shane could press kisses to his skin. Shane picked up his own, more expensive body wash and began to massage it into Ilya’s skin; every stroke of those long fingers wound the heat in Ilya’s core higher. The touch was possessive as much as it was arousing. 

Ilya let Shane wash him; the thrumming of the bond flared and was agitated again, especially when Shane sniffed around his neck and shoulders. He kept his hands wrapped around those plush hips as he held Shane steady. Every so often, he would stroke soothing circles with his thumbs and kiss those pouting lips. 

 

By the time Shane was satisfied, every inch of Ilya smelled like Shane. He could hear his mate hissing out the odd curse when he had scented something he didn’t like. As he worked, he could feel the bond settling down; the roiling, angry feeling was draining, and a very pleased, possessive feeling was taking its place. 

Ilya was still hard. Both of them were ignoring it for now, but his gold-ringed eyes kept dragging down the length of Shane’s gorgeous figure. Ilya had barely touched him, but that pretty cock was already hardening again under the pressure of his heavy, caressing gaze. He followed a step behind as Shane dried himself and then turned to take over from Ilya. With every swipe of the soft towel, Shane nuzzled the now clean skin, like he was trying to replace any scent with his own. 

It was a claim. It was fucking possessive, and it was so hot that it was making Ilya let out a deep growl in the rising, heated need to haul his mate into his arms and slam him into the nearest surface strong enough to hold them both as he was bent over. Shane had obviously picked up on that from the flushed rose-gold colour that was cascading through their mindscape. The body of his rope serpent was glowing with it as his mate put a strong hand on his chest and used all that coiled, barely hidden strength to push Ilya backwards till the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. 

“Sit.” 

There was something in Shane's voice that Ilya hadn’t heard before. It sent a shiver of both slight fear and desire through his veins and straight down to his cock. Curious to see how far his mate would take this, Ilya allowed Shane to take the lead as he gracefully climbed onto his lap. 

Ilya braced them both with his arms and adjusted so his back was up against the headboard and Shane had plenty of room on either side of his large thighs to do whatever he wanted. Which was to apparently kill Ilya with the sweetest torture because Shane was soon settling naked, still warm from the water and with softly glowing skin under the golden brush of the bond, right over his rock-hard cock. 

Shane had already pulled out the lube and was pouring it onto his own fingers as Ilya was working to catch up. Shane turned around, straddling one tense thigh and bent slightly at the waist, putting on a display, making sure that all Ilya could see was the way Shane was quickly opening himself up. And Shane was going quickly. Ilya watched as his mate moaned and mewled as he struggled to get the full angle he wanted. Shane’s fingers weren’t as long or thick as his, and the position meant he couldn’t get them as deep as he obviously needed, but it would be enough. 

“Shane, Sweetheart?” 

Ilya was fighting for control now. He didn’t want to upset his mate, but his cock was so hard it was almost painful now. Shane removed the three fingers he had been working into his tight, clenched hole and turned back around so they were chest to chest. 

“Can I touch you?”

The request was deep; his voice was raw with need and desperation. Shane finally nodded and let out a sweet, pleased whine when Ilya finally got his hands on that ass and those plush hips. He dug his fingers into the ample muscle as he helped Shane lift himself on his massive, beautiful thighs. The muscles flexed and rolled at the effort to hold all of Shane’s impressive form in that angle. 

Ilya let out a dark, heady snarl as the head of his thick, dark red cock caught on that wet, slick rim. He was so fucking hard, he was ready to beg, to plead, to do anything that Shane asked of him just to get his mate to let him thrust inside that gorgeous, irresistible ass. 

“That's it, Lyubimyy. Come on, you can take me. Look how your body is begging for my cock.”

He was begging, shamelessly, to get Shane to either move or let him take over, but Shane was holding himself in place, not moving and yet not allowing Ilya to touch him. 

“Shane, Sweetheart. Please… let me touch you.”

Shane dropped. The swollen head of Ilya’s thick cock bullied the wet, puffy rim open, and both of them moaned. Shane howled and threw his head back; the movement exposed his delectable throat, and Ilya was powerless to resist. 

Shane finally dipped his head and kissed him. That mouth was hot and wet as his mate nipped and tugged on his bottom lip, soothing the soreness left by his very sharp teeth with his tongue. As he chased the sweet taste of Shane’s mouth with his own, he groaned as Shane tightened around him with the change in angle. 

Ilya’s core, thighs and arms were tensed and straining with the effort to hold himself still, not to touch. Instead, he captured that lush mouth again and drove his tongue inside, licking and mapping every inch of Shane’s taste. He felt the bond soften as Shane trembled and spasmed around the thick, heavy length of his cock deep inside him. 

“Please… Ilyusha. Move…”

The plea was quiet, panted out between the heaving, tortured gasps of air that Shane was dragging into his lungs. That was enough for him. He steadied Shane in his lap and planted his feet for leverage and slammed his hips up. The force of the movement caused Shane to have to dig his fingers into Ilya’s shoulders for balance, as Ilya drove up into him. 

Despite giving in, Shane was not ready to surrender just yet. Ilya groaned when he felt those claws drawing heated, stinging lines down his back as he thrust up into Shane’s tight, velvet heat. 

That mouth was back on his neck, teeth scraping along the surface, followed by the quicksilver flash of pain as Shane bit down hard enough to break the skin. Ilya slid his hand down and around from one hip and cupped the width of his warm palm under the small swell of his mate’s belly. The ease in the pressure and the touch caused Shane to mewl and his glowing eyes to slip close in rapture. Ilya felt him tighten, felt the orgasm crash through his body as his inner walls clamped down like a molten hot vice around his cock. 

“Fuck…”

The curse was ripped out of his chest as Shane’s body crashing caused him to follow. He groaned as ropes and ropes of hot, thick release coated Shane’s insides. The way Shane’s body felt like it was trying to milk every last drop of come out of his cock had Ilya wrapping his other arm tightly around that lovely waist to hold Shane trapped on his cock. He pressed his other hand over the swell of that silky, soft belly, between the sheer size of his cock, the space the baby was taking up and the large amount of come that was filling his mate up. Ilya rubbed softly at the straining skin. He growled as he felt the way Shane was having to stretch around him, his muscles softening and those beautiful stretch marks standing out as his cock twitched and more release was dragged out of him at the feeling.  

 

Shane sagged against his chest. The strength had gone out of his boneless muscles; his thick, plush thighs were trembling, and his chest was heaving. Ilya, too, was having to work on getting his panting under control as he kept Shane locked on his lap. His cock hadn't yet gone soft. 

He nuzzled his head under Shane’s to get his mate to tilt his head up, so that he could kiss him without letting go. Shane was soft and pliant under his attention. Those big, beautiful eyes were gone glassy and golden. 

Ilya eased back and soothed his hand along the bottom of the curved belly; the swell was still small and sweet right now, even stretched as it was, but Shane was still lighter than he should be. Ilya suspected that he would start to show a little more in the next week or so. 

There was also the honeyed, creamy, soft scent that Ilya was starting to detect around Shane’s chest. He pressed his face into Shane’s lovely tits; there it was again, as Ilya lapped at a still hardened nipple and sucked it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud as Shane arched up into him; the press of his belly against Ilya’s flexing muscles caused Shane to let out a broken mew of need.  

He had meant to let Shane recover, but they were both still hard. Ilya was still pressed tightly inside his mate, and Shane’s cock was already filling back out, plumping up and glistening with the previous mess of his release. Carefully, he nipped at the hard bud in his mouth and pulled back; the tug caused Shane to whine and grip at the back of his neck, and those claws dug into the muscles at the top of his shoulders. Shane’s thighs were quivering at the strain, even with Ilya supporting some of his weight. 

Ilya tightened his hold around Shane’s back and waist. He made sure that the soft curve of Shane’s belly was tucked safely against his own as he used a powerful roll of his core to swap their positions over. Shane melted under him. He had managed to roll them so they had stayed locked together, Shane’s flexibility meaning he was still pressed deep inside. He took a moment to drink in the sight beneath him; Shane was glowing, the gold of the bond hummed happily all around them. Those beautiful eyes were glassy, both sated and heated at the same time. He felt Shane’s massive thighs wrap around his waist; Ilya leaned down to kiss him, and he swallowed down the moan that escaped as the shift caused his cock to press deep, right up against Shane’s prostate. 

He trailed a hand down the side of a thigh as he hooked the leg up over his shoulder; there were definitely some advantages to Shane’s diligence to yoga. The change caused Ilya to have both more space and leverage to roll his hips in a deep, heavy grind. Barely pulling out, so he was dragging the full, thick length over every sensitive inch he could. The heat was coiling in his core; he watched, utterly transfixed, as Shane’s head dropped back onto the pillows and his neck was arched in complete bliss.  

Ilya trailed his hand down the thigh he had thrown over his shoulder and up Shane’s side to knead at his chest. The nipples were pebbled and hard; Ilya rolled the right nipple under his palm as he sped up, keeping almost constant, heavy pressure right up against his mate’s prostate. Shane moaned and keened at the constant onslaught; Ilya could see he was tired. He was letting him do the work, but his pretty, flushed cock was hard and leaking against the soft curve of his belly, and his hips were rolling back in rhythm with his own. Ilya could feel the flex and flutter of those heated walls tight around his cock.

“That's it, Lyubimyy, one more for me. You can come on my cock, can’t you?” 

Shane groaned as Ilya switched nipples and massaged the left one until both were swollen, red and puffy. The softened muscle around them was larger and fuller. Ilya growled as he surged up to capture Shane’s mouth in a desperate, deep kiss. He forced his mate’s mouth open and kissed him until he had to part for them both to half pant, half moan together. He could feel the bond overflowing between them with love, affection and heated desire as Shane’s eyes closed, his body arched in a deep curve as his orgasm crashed through his tired body. 

Ilya felt him fasten his teeth deep into his shoulder as those muscles spasmed and tightened around him. He changed the movement of his thrusts, chasing his own release as Shane went pliant under him. His pretty cock was soaking wet and still dripping little bits of his own release over them both where the curve of Shane’s belly was pressed up into his. 

Despite being exhausted, wrung out and dropped, Shane was still lifting his hips for Ilya to thrust his cock deep inside. Little mews of overwrought pleasure were falling from bitten, kiss-swollen lips as his mate lifted an arm to wrap around his neck and tighten in his curls. The strong fingers tugged, and the very tips of his claws pricked at his skin, but the implied danger, the strength of his mate, just made his blood run hotter. 

“Fuck … Ilyusha.”

It was a soft, moaned-out exhale as Ilya felt his own orgasm building. Shane was shivering, trembling through both the aftershocks and the oversensitivity from his third orgasm. 

Shane tugged on his hair again and forced Ilya to look at him, as their eyes met and Shane pulled him close, their baby pressed tightly between their gleaming, sweaty bodies. 

“Mine.”

Ilya growled; he was so close. He didn’t look away; the mesmerising mixture of chocolate and gold had him captivated. 

“You are mine. You hear me, Ilyusha? Mine. No one else can touch you.”

The answering orgasm that ripped through him at those possessive, heated words, in his own language, was so intense that Ilya had to rely on Shane’s strength to hold him steady as he came. And did he. This was his second orgasm, but it was even more intense than the first; he gave a few circling grinds of his hips as his cock desperately tried to give more. The bond flashed white-hot, and their whole mindscape was gone for a moment. 

He groaned and panted as Shane eased him down on top of his body; they were both exhausted and spent, but even as he lay there, Ilya couldn't resist adjusting them so he wasn’t fully crushing his smaller mate. Neither had moved to separate; Ilya’s cock was still nestled inside Shane, and his mate seemed quite content to stay that way. 

Gently, Ilya eased his hand up under Shane and around to stroke softly at the swollen curve in his belly. The skin was taut and tight. His cock was just still hard enough to keep his loads of come inside, and Shane was drifting in that full, dropped way when he was like this. If he could get hard again that fast, he would, as Shane gave a sleepy, pleased mew at his touch. The way he was stretched out on his side made him look full and round. His chest too was swollen, puffy and fuller. Fertile. Strong and so fucking beautiful. 

 

He knew he needed to move. Shane would be sore; he needed to be washed, they both needed a bath, and his mate needed to be cared for, pampered, and then they needed to sleep. Ilya soothed the needy, upset whine he got when he tried to move, but Shane wasn't happy. Those powerful legs suddenly had him locked in place. Ilya raised an eyebrow and brushed a kiss to the damp neck in front of him. 

“What’s wrong, Lyubimyy?”

The bond wasn’t distressed; Shane’s lake was calm now, and his serpentine rope was swimming leisurely along the surface, so close he was almost touching the liquid gold. 

Shane shook his head and buried his way back into Ilya’s hold; his massive thighs still had Ilya locked in place. He carried on his soft caress of Shane’s belly as he let his mate work through whatever the issue was. There wasn’t really a rush, and there was nothing he would refuse Shane. Especially not this. 

The next thing Ilya was aware of was Shane rolling him over and nestling himself over Ilya’s thighs. There was still a cooling mess all over them both, so Ilya hadn’t drifted for long. He was more tired than normal;l, pulling on the bond so hard and then wrestling Shane down from murder had taken a massive amount of physical strength. 

Ilya cracked his eyes open to see what his mate was up to; gold ringed the chocolate as Shane leaned down to kiss him. Ilya chased the possessive feeling as Shane licked into his mouth, bit at his lips, and then promptly opened his mouth and sank his sharp canines into his throat. Visible, clearly breaking the skin in a perfectly pretty ring of teeth marks. 

“Feeling possessive, Shane, sweetheart?”

Shane had yet to let go. Ilya reached up and palmed those lush hips to pull Shane down more firmly into his lap. His cock tried to stir at this sudden show of possessive aggression from his mate. Shane planted his weight more firmly and slowly eased his teeth back, not going far, though; Ilya felt him lap at the few beaded drops of blood that had pooled in his neck where the two sharpest teeth had broken all the way through his skin. 

The taste made Shane hiss softly and arch, his hot tongue questing for more as he lapped and soothed the bite. Ilya could do nothing but tighten his hands around the plush ass and tilt his head to give his mate more room. He ran his hands down the backs of those strong thighs, kneading and digging into the huge muscle as he felt Shane begin to push back into him. His mate’s pretty cock was plumping up again, red and flushed against his belly. His own was stirring at the movement of that stunning ass rubbing up and down as Shane writhed softly. 

“You are mine, Ilyusha. Only mine.”

Ilya groaned as the words went straight to his hardening cock, bright, dark gold thrummed around them as the bond flared higher and stronger than before.

He was suddenly pinned down. Shane’s weight grew heavy, his grip suddenly unbreakable as Ilya was once again reminded that Shane was submissive to him only by choice. He dropped his head back with a groan as his cock twitched. The strength in his mate was such a fucking turn-on, only for Shane to go and make it so much worse. 

“Say it. Tell me.”

The bond was almost bright white at this point. Ilya was panting, fighting for control as Shane pinned him both with his body and his gaze. 

“Who do you belong to, Ilya?”

This time the growl was darker, deeper and rougher as gold snaked its way up his forearms and his calves. The strength that flooded him was like a sudden boost of adrenaline; he didn't move for a moment, though he did look Shane straight in the eyes, for once forcing the contact.

“You. Lyubimyy. Only you. It's always been you, Shane Hollander.” 

Only then did Ilya move. He surged up; the extra strength coursing through him made it possible as he flipped them. As soon as he had Shane under him, his mate surrendered. That luscious throat was bared, and Shane was mewling for more in a pleased purr. Ilya had the distinct impression he had just somehow been manipulated, but he wasn't sure his brain could work it out right now. 

He wouldn't take Shane again, or at least he hadn’t been planning on it; even before he made to slink down to take that lovely, pretty cock in his mouth, Shane was hissing and trapping him. One look and Ilya knew he had lost. Carefully, he ran a finger over Shane’s puffy, wet rim. He pushed just slightly; the skin was heated under his touch, but Shane was arching and trying to push back against him. 

“Are you sure, Lyubimyy?”

The backs of Shane’s thighs were slick and shiny with the mix of lube and the copious amount of his come. Ilya ran his fingers through it and began to tease softly at the stretched, sore muscle. Shane’s eyes were closed, and his back was arched into a beautiful deep curve that pushed his chest out and his ass closer to Ilya’s touch.  

“Yes…Please.”

All the previous aggression and strength were gone. As soon as Ilya had gotten him on his back, his pretty, submissive mate had dropped beautifully again. 

Ilya was weak. He knew it; Shane knew it. 

Carefully, he slicked himself up with the mixture from Shane’s thighs; there was more than enough still inside Shane to make the first thrust easy. Ilya had eased Shane onto his side and was now wrapped around his back; he had pulled Shane’s muscular thigh back over his hips, which opened his mate up so prettily over his cock. With careful hands, he petted at those round, full globes as he eased them apart to guide his cock inside. This position also made it easier for Ilya to do all the work; he could feel that Shane’s energy had all been used up now, the bond was sluggish and slow as the gold in Shane’s lake had stilled almost to a stop. 

He used that strong thigh as leverage to set a slow but deep pace. He was rolling his hips up in a filthy grind that meant they wouldn't last long; they were both tired, and Shane was sore, but he was also mewling and panting, his hips chasing Ilya’s slow pace and tears gathering at the edges of his long, sooty lashes. He used his other hand to cup the gentle swell that housed their baby, the pleased little bubble of warmth added to the heat in the bond. Gold glittered like rain all around them; Shane was half moaning, half purring, his eyes closed, and head tipped back onto Ilya’s shoulder. Completely and totally pleasure- and bond-drunk. 

Ilya resisted Shane’s attempts to get him to go harder. He tightened his grip and stilled completely until Shane’s eyes opened, and he hissed softly, then mewled in tired but sad kitten protest. 

“Behave, sweetheart. Or I’ll stop.”

He would too. It would not be easy, and his body would rebel, but he would stop instantly if he thought he was hurting Shane. 

His pretty mate settled back down and let Ilya pick back up the slow, deep pace as he snaked his other hand, the one not cradling Shane’s sweet belly, up to play with those lovely, pebbled nipples. Shane whined and moaned as Ilya’s fingers rolled the hardened buds between them. 

“How big will your pretty tits get? Hmmm”

He growled softly into Shane’s neck, mouthing and sucking at the slight salty tang under his tongue. They were already a bit fuller. Shane’s chest had already been larger, softer than his. He was flatter; built of pure, heavier muscle, and he didn’t have the same gorgeous shape. They fitted perfectly in his hand now; he kneaded and played with the softened muscle as he rolled his hips harder. His cock was throbbing at the image of Shane’s chest rounder, heavier and full of lovely sweet milk for their baby.

Ilya was unable to slow himself back down; he could feel Shane spasming and tightening around his cock, pulling him impossibly deeper as they neared the edge. Every time Ilya pressed into one of Shane’s sensitive nipples, his walls clamped down on Ilya inside of him, and Shane gave a sweet little needy whine, trying to both push his ass back onto Ilya’s cock and at the same time arch up into the hands playing with his chest; he was too tired, and it wasn't enough. Ilya could see he was getting more and more worked up that it wasn't quite there; tears glistened at the corners of those pretty eyes as Ilya gathered him close and wrapped both arms around his shivering, crying mate.   

He didn’t stop, though. Instead, he changed the angle and pulled Shane closer, plastering himself flush along the supine length of his mate’s muscular back. Now finally, he was thrusting up into Shane’s prostate with every roll of his hips; the change in Shane was instant. His cock twitched, and drops of pearly, pale precome coated the red, swollen head. Ilya dropped his hand and swiped his finger along the slit; he pressed the very tip of his finger in just a little, putting a touch of pressure there, and suddenly Shane was clamping down so tightly in the rush of his orgasm around Ilya’s cock that he was hauled over the edge too. Shane moaned and hissed at the feeling; Ilya could see that this final orgasm for his mate was almost dry. His pretty cock was twitching and throbbing, but only a small amount of come was coating his spent cock. 

Ilya rolled his hips in a few languid thrusts to ride out both of their aftershocks; Shane was crying softly but clinging to the back of Ilya’s neck and the curls under his fingers. He pulled and clenched every time a spark of oversensitive pleasure coiled up his spine. Ilya levered himself up to kiss those pretty tears away. 

“Easy, Lyubimyy. You did so well. So good.”

 

Shane melted at the praise. His body had gone utterly limp and spent in the sheets as Ilya soothed his hands over the sore muscles and kissed those swollen, bitten lips. 

Carefully, Ilya eased himself out of Shane, hushing the fresh tears and the soft, needy mewl as his mate tried to keep him inside, but this time Shane really was exhausted, and Ilya easily slipped off the bed and padded silently to the bathroom. This would require more than a quick wash; Shane would be sore. They were both covered in sweat, lube and a large amount of come; he quickly set the bath up and running while he got out the things Shane would require before bed. 

By the time he had finished, the bath was almost full enough; the soft scent of the oils, other restorative and pain-killing gels that helped ease any soreness in Shane’s well-used muscles, was familiar and soothing to Ilya. This was a regular ritual to them; this meant that Ilya was doing everything right, was taking care of the most important person in his world. Well, both of them now. There was that tiny, precious little life that had fought so hard to hold on, that his mate, his wonderfully strong Shane, had fought to hold onto, and Shane had succeeded. His mate deserved the world and more; he deserved everything Ilya could give him, and it would never be enough, but he would spend his life trying. 

He returned to the bedroom. Shane was exactly where Ilya had left him, almost asleep from exhaustion in a sated, liquid puddle. Ilya leaned down and was pleased with the soft, rolling purr he was greeted with, as well as the tiny head tilt that was silently asking for a kiss. Which Ilya was more than happy to give it, and cupped a hand under Shane’s jaw to nuzzle their mouths together in a soft, deep kiss. Shane hummed happily as Ilya pulled back and gently lifted him up into his arms. 

The bath was warm, and Shane relaxed instantly once Ilya climbed in behind him; he had gone back to strip the bed and change the sheets before they were both too tired to do it afterwards. He gently persuaded Shane to drink from the cool glass of water that he had already drained two of while sorting the bath out; it took a bit of coaxing, but he managed it. 

Ilya cuddled Shane close; he washed his hair, eased the conditioner through it while Shane just lay against his chest, eyes half closed and glowing softly. The bond was quiet but fluttering softly with a tremendous amount of love, so much in fact that Ilya was struggling to comprehend it. The sheer size of Shane’s vast frozen lake was awash with the petal-soft glow. His own serpentine rope, which was looking at him, now had an actual snake head. He had thought he had felt something earlier, but they had been so lost in each other that Ilya really hadn't paid attention. The python-like rope lifted its massive head and nosed at Ilya’s reaching hand, ever so gentle and still clearly sleepy. 

Shane had an arm wrapped around his belly. Ilya massaged and soothed the sore, stretched muscles, but Shane was still curled in slightly. Ilya frowned a bit and got hold of Shane to gently uncurl him. For a moment there was a touch of resistance, as Shane had thought about not letting Ilya move him, but then it was gone as quickly as Ilya had registered it. Shane moved his arm, and Ilya could see the embarrassment on that pretty face.   

“What’s wrong, Shane? Sweetheart, talk to me?”

Those beautiful chocolate eyes flickered up to his own, then away again. Shane buried himself into Ilya’s chest and let him at least wrap him tightly up in his arms, fully this time. 

Shane’s voice was ever so quiet. Ilya had to lean down to hear it. 

“I’m sorry.”

Ilya pulled Shane even closer and kissed him, cradling his mate to his chest and soothing him the best way he knew. He lifted them both out, concentrating on Shane as he tried to put his thoughts into words, ever so grateful he didn’t need to find the English for this. 

“No. Nyet. No need to be sorry, Lyubimyy. You were not in the wrong. You were not at fault. Sveta went against what I asked, and you were only defending yourself, our baby and our bond. I will never ask you to apologise for that. I am sorry I had to ask you to stop, but she is my friend, and I didn’t want that on your conscience. Easy now, love. It is all okay.”

Shane was crying again. Ilya kissed away each tear as he carried his thoroughly exhausted mate to the clean bed. Shane turned in his arms and nestled close; he made himself smaller, tucking under Ilya’s chin and wrapping his legs around Ilya’s, the strength in his hold letting Ilya know he wasn't moving for the rest of the night.

“Ah, enough sad kitten tears, Lyubimyy. You're breaking my heart.”

There was a light hiss as Shane nipped at the underside of his jaw in retaliation for being called a kitten, not really making it any less true, but Ilya let it go for now. Instead, he felt it as Shane kissed his neck, then his chest as Ilya resettled him closer, making sure that the little tiny curve in Shane’s belly was pressed safely between them. 

Shane closed his eyes and let out a sigh of utter contentment. The room glowed in soft gold as Ilya felt the little bubble of joy and sleepiness from Shane’s centre, where the little sensations from their baby fluttered down. His serpent rope coiled tight around the bubble as their mindscape settled. 

He ducked his head to press a kiss to the slightly damp hair tucked under his chin, and then murmured softly.  

“Ya tebya lyublyu.”

He felt the purr start up as Shane breathed out against his throat, half in English and half in Russian in exhaustion. 

“I love you too.”

Ilya tightened his hold around his mate and made sure those ice blocks of his cute feet were snuggled in between his own much warmer legs. Just like Shane liked it. His eyes drifted closed; just as he was about to drift off, the phone on Shane’s side of the bed lit up. There was no sound, no vibration, but the screen kept lighting up over and over again. He was too tired to care right now, and Shane was utterly gone, curled up small and impossibly sweet against his chest, but that phone would have to be tomorrow's problem. 

Sleep dragged him under. The last thing he heard was Shane’s deep, husky purr and his own answering deeper one as they filled the room with their combined contentment and adoration. 

Gold glowed all around them, and flickers of rose-gold rain fell for hours after they had both succumbed to an exhausted sleep. 

 

Chapter 10: A Distasteful Discovery

Chapter Notes

So sorry for the long wait, everyone. Had a few nasty health conditions and flare ups, that thought it was funny to join forces on me rather than take turns like they usually do, and distractions (**Cough** looks at you, rainnasaurus), but I should now be back on track. Secrets update next, and please, if you like Chess... the brainworm rainnasaurus distracted me with (a D/S Chess Hollanov AU; chapter 1of that "The Rozanov Opener" is also up; go check it out if it's your thing)

This is a bit of a darker chapter, so a warning here. Also, there will be smut of all flavours in this one (Including two women, so don't say I didn't warn you). Many thanks to my wonderful Betas and the amazing rainnasaurus and Kemisha for all their support, and you both have fun with this one. Let me know what you think, please.

 

The storm had come out of nowhere. It hadn't been forecast and had hit the area near the resort where they were staying. Yuna had been keeping an eye on the flights and the reports of expected delays as their departure neared. Luckily, she had given in and allowed Shane to book them an all-inclusive stay at a beautiful cliffside resort, so even if they did get delayed, they wouldn’t come to any difficulties, other than that they would both possibly have to reschedule a few work meetings depending on how long they were waiting.

David was happy with his brand new puzzle book laid out on the beach in a lovely padded reclining lounge chair, while Yuna was enjoying alternating between reading and people watching. So far, the weather hadn't reached them where they were, but there were reports of it affecting a few areas much closer to the airport. 

Yuna absentmindedly checked her phone. Shane was playing against Boston tomorrow. She had spoken to him earlier and kept him up to date on expected delays that could affect them, but she wasn’t worried. The problem was, she should have been. 

Not only was their flight delayed the next day, possibly by days, if not longer, with how the weather front had suddenly shifted. Hayden had called with a frantic, almost garbled message that Shane had taken a nasty hit in their game and had been taken off the ice to be transferred straight to the hospital. As soon as Yuna had put the phone down, she let out a terrified breath of air; she had fought so hard to sound calm, in control, and collected when her son’s friend had been so panicked, but now she sank down to the soft comforter on the bed in their suite with her head in her hands.

Shane had never been in hospital without her. She had made sure of it. It was a risk that she just couldn't afford. Not now, not ever; even if David couldn’t be there when Shane had been younger, she had made damn sure that she was. As soon as he had heard her end the call, David was now frantically trying to find alternative flights, but it was looking increasingly likely that they were stuck. 

She felt like breaking something. Just for the momentary release of the surge in her emotions. There was a roiling mix of fear, worry, and anger coursing through her veins. Hayden had said it was a head and shoulder injury based on what the rink medics had reported back to the team. So that at least meant the hospital shouldn’t be doing any highly invasive blood testing, and Shane’s medical files didn’t permit any sort of invasive investigation that could flag anything untoward unless in life-or-death situations, which this clearly wasn't, even if she was still very worried. 

He was her only son after all, and she loved him. He was very like her, or at least she had thought so for a very long time, until recently. In the last year or so, they had fought more and more. Clashed in ways she had never imagined would happen. He had always been so agreeable, so prepared to follow her instructions and plans; she had no idea what had changed to cause such a shift in him, but it had scared her. 

Doubling down on Shane hadn't been the right move, but she had been unable to help it. Of course, that had only made things worse, but this could blow everything into a catastrophic mess that there would be no coming back from.    

With her once again rising panic, she leapt up and began pacing, wringing her hands and muttering in rapid Japanese under her breath. She picked her phone back up and dialled Shane’s number again; the same result: it rang through to voicemail. Yuna was well aware that Shane wouldn’t be allowed his phone if he had hit his head; it was the standard concussion protocol. 

David shut the laptop and let out a weary sigh. 

“No luck, sorry, love.”

Yuna gave him a strained half-smile but didn’t stop her pacing. David stood and began to make tea, the standard ritual for these situations, and their suite had a very fancy, fully equipped little kitchen. She tracked him with her eyes. David would assume, rightly so, that she was acting this way because they were stuck and separated from their injured son, and while it was very much true. What was really making her so agitated and on edge was the terrifying, all-encompassing fear of Shane being discovered. 

She took the cup gratefully. The soothing scent of her favourite jasmine tea floated into her nose and helped soothe some of the frayed edges of her nerves. David squeezed her shoulders as he settled into one of the easy chairs that looked out over the stunning view of the coastline. He was much better at waiting than she was; he also had no idea of the true danger that Shane was in. 

Yuna had never told him. It had not been a decision she had made lightly, but Male Carriers were treated one of two ways: with utter disgust, like they were an abomination in some countries, or they were collected. They were metaphorically collared, trapped and auctioned off to benefit the government, if they were a high enough level to matter. 

When Shane’s test had come back not only positive but a possible 8 or 9 level, she had made the only choice that she could. He would never be able to play hockey; he would be snapped up at once, most likely married off in a political marriage, disguised as a high honour. There was even the danger of her own country getting involved, even though she was legally a Canadian citizen, since Shane had very much taken after her side. 

He looked more Japanese than Canadian, which to her birth country was highly desirable in a Carrier, and it had only gotten worse as he got older. She had watched in part pride, part horror, as Shane grew. He wasn’t massively tall, but he was a respectable 5’10. Although that was partly because neither she nor David were over 6 feet, so that wasn’t too noticeable. Despite all of Shane’s best efforts, and all the personal trainers she had found for him when he was just starting to get really, really serious, with the aim towards playing professional hockey, his figure always held that little bit of lingering softness. 

Yuna had done her best to carefully, tactfully steer him away from anything that could make him stand out more as a possible Carrier. She had encouraged the workouts, praised his work ethic for hockey and made sure all his brand deals were as masculine as possible. He had grown into his body eventually. All the extra muscle had hidden the worst of the signs, even if he would never look like the likes of Ilya Rozanov. The comparison stung her pride more than Shane’s, honestly. 

The public would never know they were comparing a normal, brutish man to a Male Carrier. A comparison that would never even be considered if Shane’s status was known, but since it wasn't, there was nothing she could do but watch as Shane chased a man he would never physically match.  

It was fortunate that Shane had more than matched him on the ice. As players, there was never more than a point or two between them, and they seemed to trade off who was in the lead more often than most people ate dinner. Any game where the Voyageurs played against the Bears was guaranteed to both sell out every time and be the most talked about match of that week. The rivalry between them only seemed to fuel their performances, which were already admittedly way above everyone else’s skill level.

Yuna had spent many of those games wondering just how they each coped on teams that were clearly holding them back. Not that she wanted to think of her favourite team like that, but against Boston, against Rozanov, it became so much more unmissable that Shane was so much better than the rest. Only against each other could they really let loose; Shane was faster, more agile and more calculated, but Rozanov matched him with his increased bulk, more aggressive play style and seemingly innate ability to be steps ahead of everyone else on the ice.   

As time crawled on, the days stretched out in front of her as Yuna stewed over every possible detail that could have gone wrong. She stalked the news, she interrogated the Voyagers' doctors that she had the contact details for and pressed the Pike boy for more information, but no one had any more details. 

Shane was still in hospital; the concussion had apparently been bad. Hayden had reported that information back before he had to leave with the team for their next game. Without Shane, they didn't stand a chance, but there was nothing to be done now. Unfortunately, that meant her only access to Shane was now gone. Hayden had said they hadn't been allowed to stay long, and Shane had been out of it, drugged up on pain meds and not really awake. 

That was standard for Shane; he didn't react well to painkillers. His phone was obviously dead, since it had stopped going to voicemail a day ago, but as he was apparently on no screens still, that wasn't that unusual for this type of injury. Hayden had told them that he had informed the nurses that he had kept them in the loop and apprised them of the situation, with them being stuck until flights were moving again. 

This was the one downside to Yuna having refused to have anyone else as medical proxy for Shane. She couldn’t risk it, but it did mean that Hayden would only be told the very basics until Shane was either allowed to contact them himself or they could get to him. All they could do now was wait it out. The news breaking about Shane being out for the playoffs due to severe injury meant that they had managed to jump to the head of the queue for getting a flight out. 

The minute any flights were moving, they had been booked onto one, a total of four days after Shane’s accident. It would take the best part of the fifth day to get to Montreal, drop their stuff off and get quickly cleaned up at Shane’s apartment, then straight to Montreal General. David hefted their luggage as they headed for the airport, with the small group of people who also had priority for various reasons and forced herself to stay calm and polite through the boarding process. 

They had to put up with a short layover partway through, which lengthened the travel time to nearly eight hours in total. Yuna was almost vibrating with both anxiety, fear and impatience by the time they used their spare key to get into Shane’s silent apartment in Montreal late that afternoon. She paused in the doorway. David gave her a puzzled look at her sudden switch from increasingly fast-paced motion to stopping dead. There was something different, even though it was true they hadn’t been here recently, or even very often; she could just feel that something was off, even if, glancing around, there was absolutely nothing out of place or that she could pinpoint as wrong. 

David just placed their bags in the spare room neatly and nudged her gently to get a move on. 

“Come on, Yuna, love, we need to get to the hospital.”

He was looking at her in concern again, so she made a valiant effort to shake off the bad feeling and got herself into gear. Maybe it was just the emotional and physical toll the last few days had taken; maybe she was overthinking things in the lingering terror of her deception being discovered and Shane being outed as a Male Carrier. 

 

It was still technically visiting hours when they arrived, but only just. Hayden had said Shane was due to be moved rooms before the Voyageurs had flown out for their next game, so Yuna strode straight up to the patient information desk to find out exactly where her son was. The young woman at the desk looked both bored and tired; it was not the most promising of signs, but Yuna squared her shoulders and put on the most polite, warmest smile she could muster right now. 

“Good afternoon, could I enquire as to the room that Shane Hollander is in, please?”

The young woman glanced at her, then typed a few things into the computer.

“Relation to the patient and name, please?”

Yuna held in a sigh; she knew the girl was only doing her job, but they were so close, and it was starting to get to her now; all the ice-cold fear that was swirling in her gut was making it almost hard to get air into her lungs without choking on every breath. 

“Yuna and David Hollander, we are Shane’s parents.”

There was a pause; she frowned at the screen, then gave the mouse a few more hard clicks, but the slightly confused expression stayed the same. She turned to call over her shoulder to an older male nurse at the desk. He looked up, rounded the desk to see the screen, then his face went blank. Like completely and totally blank. He looked up at them with suddenly much colder eyes. 

“I am sorry, but you will need to take a seat. His Doctor will be with you shortly.”

He directed them to a private-looking waiting room, with the better coffee and a pastry counter-type vending machine. 

David looked at her. He looked as confused as she felt, except he wasn’t desperately trying to quell the rising panic as she was. Why were they not allowed to see him? Who exactly was this Doctor? That nurse could have at least given her a name to work with, but he had been very careful, too careful for Yuna’s comfort. 

She forced herself to get something to eat and a much-needed coffee as they waited. David did too, as he was looking pale and worried now. Yuna tangled their fingers together, trying to keep still as she wanted to pace; she wanted to rage at why she was being kept from her son like this. 

There was also that nurse. He was obviously senior, because many others kept coming up to him, both asking for things and being given what were clearly orders and instructions, but still he remained. Like he was on guard for something. Those intense green eyes kept returning to analyse her, and only her. Yuna tightened her hand around the takeaway cup and forced herself to drink slowly; the hot, sweet drink was actually helping, and she would not give herself away. She didn’t look his way again. Not until there was a distinct sound of important footsteps approaching. 

Yuna’s head snapped up; her instinct had been spot on; there was a woman, a few years older than her by her hair but distinctly high up on the food chain by the way the others made way for her. They scattered, not in fear but out of clear respect as she passed. Yuna stood, feeling the need to meet this woman eye to eye for some deep, visceral reason she couldn't quite name. 

Those eyes. Yuna gripped David’s hand tightly as he hastily stood too. Having not picked up on her instinctual reaction but was willing, as always, to follow her lead. Like he always had.

“Mr and Mrs Hollander?”

It was framed as a question, but Yuna could already feel the ice, the carefully hidden edge to the sweet voice. 

“Yes, that’s us. Can we see our son now, please?”

Yuna was almost frantic at this point, not just of being discovered but also to see Shane. David, too, looked pale, drawn and clearly upset. In fact, it was that somehow that seemed to crack the woman slightly, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Unfortunately, I am sorry to say that this is out of my hands; you, Mrs Hollander, no longer have that privilege.”

The room spun. He knew. Shane knew. 

Ice crept up into her heart. Her chest constricted, and she sank down to the chair that was luckily still under her legs as they gave out. David caught her arm and soothed a large hand over her neck in worry. 

“Yuna? What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t find the breath to answer him; instead, she looked up, those eyes regarded her knowingly, and there was nothing she could do. If this doctor knew, if Shane had been told, then they would have made it clear she would have known. That could be the only reason that Shane had removed her access. Yuna straightened and looked at this doctor, this woman who was now firmly planted between her and her son. She knew. Yuna knew she knew, but she had no proof and even if she did, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do. Shane was an adult after all. 

“What about my husband? Does he still have access?”

A pale grey, blonde eyebrow was quirked up at her, silently challenging her, but she wasn’t going to give in, not yet. 

“I would need to enquire. He was not mentioned directly, since you were the only one named.”

Yuna winced. Oh, she knew all right. The question was, did this doctor have direct access to Shane, or was this a chain she was going to have to cut each link from? 

The older woman turned and spoke quietly to her door guard, the male nurse from before, who was still standing sentinel beside her. It was too quiet for Yuna to catch, but he paced back to the desk and picked up the phone, quickly and efficiently scrolling on the computer screen to find something as he did so. They couldn't hear the conversation from here, but it was short, and within minutes he was back. He shook his head minutely at the doctor, who turned back to them both, her expression blank and polite still.  

“Sorry, Mr Hollander does not have access either. You will need to contact your son directly if you want any more information. You are free to stay here for a while until another family needs the room. Have a good day now.”

With that, they were both gone. Heads bent together and soon lost in the busy bustle of the huge hospital. 

Yuna didn't move. She didn't dare look at David yet. Instead, she pulled out her phone and began to dial Shane’s number; over and over again it went to voicemail. Clearly it had been charged again, and clearly he was deliberately ignoring her calls. She must have hit redial 20-plus times before the phone was plucked from her fingers. 

“Yuna.”

She looked up. 

“What is going on?”

Oh. David was angry. That didn’t happen often, but she could hear the cold, restrained fury in his voice. Like Shane, he got even more polite the angrier he was. 

“Not here. Come on. We need to go back to Shane’s apartment.”

He would agree, but only because he knew, like her, that this was clearly not a conversation to be had in public. They rose as one, neatly put away their trash and calmly left the hospital. Yuna doubted that Shane was even still here, or if he was, then it was somewhere within the private wings with the much stronger security. At least she hoped so. 

 

The drive back was silent. Yuna sat there, twisting her hands in her lap as David drove. She had no idea how to get herself out of this mess, honestly. Whatever she said now was going to look very, very bad. She silently tried Shane one last time. The phone was completely turned off now. 

David didn’t speak as they let themselves back into the empty apartment. Yuna moved to automatically put the kettle on. David sat in the armchair and looked at her. Gaze silent and questioning, knowing to give her a moment but not letting up. 

“Yuna.”

She flinched. Not out of fear. David Hollander was a marshmallow bunny; he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but out of guilt. Mugs clutched in her hands like some sort of ceramic shield, she approached and sat adjacent to him on the corner of the nearest sofa. Slowly, she put the mugs down and began. There was no point trying to hide it now, not if Shane knew; she only had to hold on to the hope that David would understand and forgive her. She had to try. 

“I think …”

She paused to gather herself and then started again. 

“I know why Shane has removed me as his medical proxy. It also means that one or more of the Doctors in that hospital knew too. At least he is thoroughly protected by the fact that Canadian medical privacy laws were some of the strictest anywhere, but that does also mean until Shane answers our calls, we, or at least I, am not getting any information out of anyone.”

David leaned back and steepled his fingers together under his chin as he processed her words.

“Yes, but why, Yuna? What did you do?”

He really wasn’t going to let her off the hook. Not that she expected anything different, but it was a slim hope she had clung to that he might have accepted the vague explanation and left it for now. No such luck. 

“I kept something from him. From everyone. Even from you.”

David dropped his hands to his lap and looked at her. Hurt was already blooming in those familiar, lovely eyes. She had to fight back her own tears as she blundered on; if she stopped now, she would never say it.  

“Shane…Shane is a Carrier. He tested positive back then. I paid a specialist to have his test results faked so he came out normal.”

He didn’t speak for a whole minute. Then, silently, he stood. For once, he stood to his full height and pushed his broad shoulders back. He gathered his mug, put it in the dishwasher and put his shoes back on. She was still too stunned to move as he carefully, meticulously put his coat on. Only then, with his hand on the door, did he speak.

“Normal? You wanted him to be normal?”

He hadn't even turned back to look at her. Then the door shut gently behind him and Yuna broke down into tears. 

She didn't know how long she cried, but it was long enough that her eyes were puffy and her head ached right across the bridge of her nose. Her head snapped up when the door opened again. David had come back. Two grocery bags in his hands as he carefully levered his shoes back off and began to silently put everything away. Yuna hadn’t even noticed, but someone had cleared out all of the fridge, cleaned it down, and clearly David had taken some space and gone to get some necessities.  

He still wouldn't look at her. Not for the rest of the night or the next morning. They hadn't said a word to each other, nor had he followed her through to the guest room. In all their years of marriage, they had never been in the same house and yet slept separately, not once. Yuna hadn't really slept anyway; her brain had refused to shut down, and now none of her usual methods was available to her. 

The frosty silence remained between them until Yuna opened her emails and discovered something very strange. From what appeared to be a Boston fan, maybe or someone linked to the Boston Bears, had sent her an email. 

 

To: YHollander@yahoo.com

From: BBfan@AOL.com

 

For your information. 

It has come to my attention that you may be looking for your son. Since he is not where the media is under the impression that he is. 

I would suggest you start by looking at Boston General Hospital. 

 

Sincerely,

A concerned Fan

 

It was not the most reliable-looking email, but the filters on her security hadn’t blocked it, and it was from a Boston address. It was very likely Shane had bolted somewhere; she just didn’t know where, but she did remember Shane had once mentioned that Rose had a penthouse in Boston, so there was a slim possibility he had gone there. Especially if he had been seen at Boston General. 

Yuna looked over to where her husband was still refusing to acknowledge that she existed. Carefully, like she was approaching a ticking time bomb, she slid her phone to where he could see it and waited. There was no point in pushing right now; David was still radiating both anger and so much hurt. Only when he pulled the phone closer did she dare to speak, to break the ice-edged silence over them. 

“I think we should go to Boston General.”

The look he gave her was not kind, but he did at least nod and begin to clean up. Yuna took a deep breath and began to search for flights. If they weren't picky about seats, then it wasn't too difficult. It was not that long a flight between the two. For once, she was guiltily grateful that the two seats she found on such short notice were one in front of the other, not side by side. 

Air Canada came through for her. They had a plane that flew this route at least a few times a day, and if you paid extra, a space could usually be found. Yuna was efficient if nothing else and soon had two seats booked on the next flight out, which was in just over an hour, so they had to move. 

 

Yuna tried to ignore the prickly, hurt air all the way through the Uber to the airport, the tedious check-in line and finally the hour and a half long flight. She rubbed her bare forearms, automatically looking around for her jacket, only to realise she had left it on the back of her chair in Shane’s apartment. Usually, David or Shane picked it up for her, since she was notorious in the Hollander household for leaving it behind all the time. Yet now she had forgotten it, and David was so angry at her that he hadn’t picked it up, for the first time in years. She rubbed her arms again, until a warm, very familiar sweater landed softly in her lap from behind her. She risked a glance over her shoulder; David was buried pointedly in his puzzle book, but he was now sans a navy sweater. 

She shrugged into the still body-warmed fabric. She had to fight back tears at the gesture that he would still make the effort, even when he was so angry that he couldn’t look at her. The rest of the flight remained silent and somewhat peaceful; David didn’t reach out again, but he did offer her a hand to help steady her when she got up after they landed. Habits died hard, no matter his displeasure towards her right now. 

Neither of them was hungry despite it being lunchtime, so they headed straight for the massive, sprawling hospital. It was much bigger than Montreal Gen, and that was considered large; in fact, it was a little intimidating. Yuna took a moment to adjust her clothes and smooth her hair into something less like she had just crawled out of a hole after pulling an all-nighter. She had her leather protective bag that housed the case with all their important documents, the ones that proved who they were and their relationship to Shane. Although if he had given instructions not to allow her near, then it wouldn’t matter, but she had to at least try; that was if he was even here.  

The visitor reception here was much fancier than in Montreal. A full cafe and seating area were nestled in with a few little shops, gifts, more convenience-style snacks and sandwiches, as well as a cute book shop. Yuna made her way to the large, pristine desk where two female nurses sat behind computers. As she approached, a group of nurses in maroon-pink scrubs trotted past, all looking rather harried as they raced to catch up with a curly-haired woman with flashing hazel eyes in a very flattering set of soft plum scrubs. She was snapping out orders as quickly and effectively as any drill sergeant, just with a much sweeter, softer voice, but every single one was obeying instantly. 

Yuna had drifted away into the areas much more crowded with medical personnel than visitors and had to suddenly dodge out of the way as a young man in very light blue scrubs and a flying white coat hanging off one shoulder dashed past, a pile of folders clutched to his chest as he almost ran. An older male nurse in the same maroon colour threw out an arm and pushed Yuna back with a concerned look. 

“Sorry, it is all a bit manic in here right now. If you need assistance, please keep to the visitor area.”

He wasn't rude, but he was firm in the rebuke. Yuna stepped back and turned to seek her husband out, only to spot him already speaking to one of the young ladies at the desk. She hung her head slightly and made her way back over, only able to catch the last part of the conversation. 

“I am sorry, Sir, but there is no patient here admitted under ‘Hollander.’ I apologise, but you must have been sent to the incorrect department or to the wrong hospital. I can try pinging the name to the other departments, but you may have to wait a while.”

David nodded politely and thanked her. 

“That isn't a problem. Thank you very much.”

She smiled at him, then pointed towards the cafe area. David didn’t even turn around; he just ordered a coffee and a turkey club. Clearly, he was settling in to wait for any news. Yuna gave herself a stern metaphorical shake and a quick talking-to before she then followed. 

 

David couldn’t look at her. His blood felt acrid; it burnt through his veins in a horrific mixture of hurt and anger. Betrayal. That was the first and foremost thought. Not even for himself, but for his sweet, quiet Shane. His son. His only son. David had always been happy to go along with Yuna; he trusted her; he had never been particularly confrontational even when he himself had played hockey. Competitive, yes, but aggressive and confrontational, no, which meant that they had worked together as a pair. She was the direct, no-nonsense force that cut through the core, and he was the softer, more reasonable afterthought that followed behind to smooth over the jagged abrasions that Yuna’s bulldozing often left in its wake. 

Or at least it had always been that way with Shane. He had always been the one who understood the emotions and had helped Shane sort through his feelings when he was overwhelmed. Shane felt things so strongly, so deeply that Yuna just couldn’t comprehend it. Yuna bullied her emotions into neat little organised boxes, which meant that she didn’t really comprehend the problems that their son suffered growing up. 

As he sat there, he could feel the gnawing, writhing anger that was burrowing deeper and deeper into his very being. The fact that Yuna had lied was bad enough, but what David was so utterly disgusted with was the way Yuna had described her justification. 

‘Normal’. She had wanted him normal; like Shane being a Carrier made him something unnatural. 

Now David knew next to nothing about Male Carriers. He would be the first to admit it, but he had never once had a negative thought about them; it was all rather beyond him medically and scientifically, but he had seen a couple once, back when he and Yuna had been waiting for an appointment at one of the many fertility clinics they had attended while trying for Shane. The Carrier had been a shorter but stockily built man with light blond hair and glasses; David had distinctly remembered the extremely soft, loving way the tall, wiry man beside him had been hovering. His hands braced around the Carrier’s hips to help support him with a level of pure devotion that not a single one of the other men with their pregnant female counterparts had displayed when they had stood. 

It had never been something that his family had considered ‘out of the ordinary’; the Hollanders were a pretty relaxed, laid-back sort, and it hadn’t actually occurred to David that Yuna had a different opinion on the matter. Male Carriers were so rare, so little was known about them that the topic had never come up. As far as he knew, it had been mentioned exactly once, when Yuna had casually mentioned she had sent the form back to Shane’s school declining the test when he had turned 16, because Shane had been set to play in front of two different scouts that day, which to both Yuna and Shane had been much more important. He had also seen it himself, written on Shane’s birth certificate that he was negative for the gene, so it didn’t matter. Or at least that was what David had thought. 

Yet that was only because he did not know. It would have been very different if he had known the truth. A fresh surge of anger swept through him at the thought. He couldn't understand it. How could she do this? Why would she do this? 

When Yuna sat down at the same table, he still couldn’t look at her. Instead, he steadily drank his coffee and ate the sandwich. He wasn’t really hungry, but eating was required by his body, and it was something to keep his hands occupied. Once he was finished, he pulled out his phone and started hunting down books on Male Carriers. There were not many, and what he could find seemed to be half guesswork, half fantasy fiction, honestly.  

He was deeply immersed in trying to read through something called ‘Reddit’ articles on the types of bonds that a lot of women seemed to think were most likely what happened when a Male Carrier chose a partner, although many of the comments were leaning towards ridiculous when they were commenting on how Male Carriers could bond with a woman; it just had to be a ‘very special and deeply rewarding’ relationship that only certain women were capable of, apparently. Which made absolutely no sense to David, since he was pretty sure the whole point was that Male Carriers were gay, but then again, most of the internet made little sense to him. The sound of a throat being cleared snapped David out of his internet-induced haze of puzzlement.  

A short, pretty nurse with soft plum coloured scrubs stood beside their table, a pair of glasses perched on her nose and a tablet in her hand. 

“Mr and Mrs Hollander?”

Both of them shot to their feet at the question. Yuna stepped forward and took the lead. David let her; it was automatic. After so many years, even now, he couldn’t shake instinct. 

“Yes, that's us. Have you found our son?”

The nurse pushed her glasses up a little higher and regarded Yuna with a sorrowful look that David just knew meant bad news. 

“Can you follow me, please?”

She turned and led them out of the bustling, busy lobby and through corridors to a much fancier area of the massive hospital. Here they couldn’t get through any door without the nurse flashing a key card against the scanner. This was not a standard part of the hospital. 

Once they reached a large, tastefully decorated office, the nurse kindly gestured for them to take a seat. David watched her; those intelligent hazel eyes were compassionate but not giving anything away as she perched on the edge of the mahogany desk to look at them both. 

“My name is Nurse Henderson. I am sorry, Mrs Hollander, but we can not give any information regarding a patient's whereabouts, especially as you are not an authorised recipient of that information.”

David could see the rising anger in the squared set of Yuna’s shoulders, the way her head rose just a tad and the sudden straightening of her spine. Those were the tiny little signs that she was losing her temper, but before he could step forward and stop her, she had opened her mouth. 

“So he is here. Then you need to tell me. I am still his mother.”

A few loose, stray dark curls bounced with the movement as Nurse Henderson shook her head. David caught the very slight tightening around her mouth as she held her face in the same calm, compassionate look at Yuna’s tirade, but she would not be moved. 

“Yes, Mrs Hollander, you are, but I am sorry you do not have the right to that information.”

Yuna scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“I will be phoning our lawyer. This hospital can not keep our son from us like this; we have rights.”

It was a threat. Plain and simple, but instead of being intimidated into submission, Nurse Henderson simply reached down and pressed a button on her pager. 

“I am afraid that lawyers or not, I still can not give you the information you are asking for.”

Yuna was pulling out her phone when a very loud, sudden commotion echoed into the empty corridor. A shout, followed by what sounded like a door being slammed open, then an animalistic growl. 

“Mr Rozanov, please. You need to calm down.”

David froze. Something had stirred in his chest when he had heard that growl, something primal and long buried, not fear as such but a respect, a need to placate that he had never felt before. 

Nurse Henderson was moving before Yuna seemed to have registered the name; she was out of the door and running, but by the increasing volume, whatever was happening was coming their way. 

“Do not approach. Step back. Nadia! Get them back.”

They could hear the raised but commanding voice of Nurse Henderson cut through the commotion. Some of the clamour died down for a moment until there was another, louder crash and someone cried out. Instantly, another female’s voice cracked through the air. 

“Move! All of you, back the fuck away now.”

David stood and went to the door; curiosity winning the fight with his sensibilities, he could see a group coming towards them from the larger room at the end of the corridor. Two big, burly security guards stood on either side and were clearly trying and failing to contain the situation. Several different coloured scrubs could be seen as a collection of nurses, orderlies and doctors moved away at the firm, clear command that rang out over the noise. 

He ignored Yuna as she came up beside him, too fascinated by the spectacle to look away. A very tall woman had come striding through, not dressed in a traditional lab coat but a soft hoodie with her name and credentials on the right breast.  

‘Head of Surgery

Dr Nadia Henderson’

 

Not only was this someone extremely important, but this woman was clearly not just in charge but was also very well respected; she seemed to cut through the chaos like a shark through a frightened shoal of fish. Said fish that scattered away from her as she moved.  

 

In the very centre of the disturbance stood a familiar tall, broad form. Curly dark blond hair was swept back, and those cold, blank blue eyes were a mixture of desperate worry, yet still throwing a terrifying glare at anyone who came too close. Large, muscular arms were wrapped tightly around a smaller figure, bundled up in a huge black hoodie that covered most of his body and was pulled up over the head so it was hard to see his features, but there was something very, very familiar about the curve in that back, in the height, the curve of the neck, even disguised as the man was. 

Nurse Henderson stepped forward now that everyone else had cleared out; David watched her keep her hands held up, palms wide, like she was trying to approach a cornered, frightened animal. With the way Rozanov was tense, face set into a blank but aggressive stare, it wasn't really an inaccurate description. 

“Mr. Rozanov, Ilya. You need to come with me; please let us help.”

The doctor tried to call softly over to Rozanov, but that terrifying gaze didn't budge an inch. All of the Russian’s considerable bulk was tense, being held at the ready if the slightest movement triggered the fight-or-flight instinct. 

A much deeper, quiet but steady voice reached David as he saw something shift in the Russian’s face. Clearly there was something different here, because suddenly those eyes had moved. That blond head tilted, and the laser focus had shifted. 

“Ilya. Let them help. Please, son.”

A second, rather handsome, dark-haired man was still in the room. At first, David hadn't spotted him behind Rozanov and his partner. Longish black hair was swept back from his face as he came close, much closer than anyone else had to the young man. 

The rigid set of those massive shoulders eased for a second as light blue eyes met those still glowing a deep gold. Briefly Rozanov tightened his arms around the man he was holding, but then something on the other man’s face must have convinced him because the female doctor had taken the cue to step forward again. 

“Mr. Rozanov, Ilya. You need to come with me; please let us help.”

She had dropped her voice so David couldn’t make out the words, but that minuscule, fractional drop still in those massive shoulders told him that the young man was at least listening to her this time. 

All at once, the bottom seemed to drop out of David’s stomach. As Rozanov had turned to follow Nurse Henderson, he had gotten just the tiniest glimpse of who exactly the man was cradling so close. 

Shane. His fucking son. 

Before he could think about it, before he could stop himself, he had opened his mouth and shouted. 

“Shane!”

Ice-cold, blue eyes with a terrifying, glowing ring of gold around each iris snapped to him instantly. That full, mobile mouth was twisted into a snarl of pure rage. He was pretty sure there had been a flash of abnormally sharp canine teeth in there too. David took an instinctive step back and lowered his gaze, some itch in the depths of his lizard hindbrain telling him to break eye contact and show respect. By the time he realised there was a problem, he had glanced down to find Yuna had launched herself forward to try and get to Shane.

This time the noise was something out of a nightmare. A low, guttural snarl that echoed through the now fortunately much emptier space. Shockingly, it was not coming from Rozanov. No. Somehow, this horrific, deadly sound was coming from Shane. His unfailingly polite, sweet Shane, who was now sporting a set of his own blazing golden eyes that had locked onto Yuna. The anger, the pure primal rage that was fixed, utterly unwaveringly onto Yuna, sent a shiver of glacial fear down his spine. Suddenly, the hulking form of Rozanov was moving. All of that massive strength was instantly tightened around Shane’s smaller form; from the obvious bulging of his muscles, the lines of veins straining in that thick neck, the visible effort the bigger man was having to exert, holding onto his son, was abruptly not easy. 

Both Nurse Henderson and the tall, strong figure of the female Doctor also moved to make sure they were blocking Yuna from getting closer. This time it was the taller woman, the doctor, who was speaking quickly to both Rozanov and Shane. 

“Don’t. Not here. Ilya, do not let go; I need to check Shane over. Shane, focus on me. I need to look at you, yes? The bleeding?”

Rozanov bodily lifted Shane into his arms. David could see his lips moving around the words he was rumbling into Shane’s ear from where the blond had forcibly tucked his son's face into his throat for some reason, but he couldn't hear them. 

“Where?”

No one else was approaching; David could see that Rozanov’s bone-chilling glower was doing a fantastic job of keeping the few people left in the room back. All apart from the handsome man with the neat black beard, that was. He was standing close, almost protectively, at the blond’s back, and tellingly Rozanov was letting him. For all he was eyeing everyone else in the room with a chillingly cold anger and distrust, the Russian was completely ignoring the man behind him. 

The doctor turned her own furious gaze on the men who just came crashing through the far door, security badges on full display. 

“Thank you, gentlemen, but we do not need your assistance right now. Please remove everyone not required from this room and the corridor to the VIP exam room by my office.” 

Four of the men scattered to do her bidding as she threw a quick, sharp glance over her shoulder to where Nurse Henderson was still blocking Yuna and he himself stood. 

“Kate?”

A whole, silent conversation happened in that one glance and a name. David could see a well-oiled, devoted partnership when he saw one. 

“Of course. I will join you shortly, Doctor.” 

With that, Doctor Henderson swept the three men away. Rozanov carried the still hissing, snarling form of his son further and further away. As they rounded the corner and the sounds got quieter, Yuna immediately tried to scramble after them but was physically blocked by the guards who were now standing firmly in front of the door. 

Nurse Henderson stepped forward, her hands raised and shook her head in a firm reprimand. 

“No, I am sorry, Mrs Hollander, but that is absolutely not happening.”

Yuna let out a noise that sounded like a cat when its tail had just been stepped on. 

“You’re sorry?! Well … that is just not good enough. That was my son. You cannot stop me; now let me pass.”

One of the bigger guards moved up behind Nurse Henderson and crossed his arms over his massive barrel of a chest. 

“Is everything alright here, Ma’am?”

She waved him off and let out a sigh; the polite, well-mannered, almost placating tone she had been using with them was suddenly nowhere to be found. 

“Look, you need to listen now. Your son has revoked your rights to his medical proxy; you have no right to any, I repeat, ANY information about your son as of the moment he changed that information. Not a single person in this hospital is going to let you near him. Do you understand?”

David nodded at once, even though it hadn't been him who it was aimed at; he still felt like a scolded child. Yuna, however, scoffed and crossed her arms tightly over her delicate chest and made a soft, dismissive sound in the back of her throat. 

“I don’t know who you think you are, young lady, but legally you cannot keep me from my son. Do not think I will be letting this go. I will be calling my lawyers, and you will be the first name that is on the list. I will not be ordered around by some lowly scrub nurse with an inflated idea of her own self-worth.”

If David could have sunk into the ground out of sheer embarrassment, he would have done so. Had she always been like this, and he had just been blinded by his utter devotion to her? He caught the flash of anger and disbelief in those intelligent hazel eyes; despite what Yuna thought, David had joined the dots and was pretty sure that this was not a ‘lowly scrub nurse’ at all. 

“Yuna, that's enough.”

She rounded on him, eyes blazing and lips drawn white in her contained fury, but David was so done, he was utterly and completely done. 

“You can not threaten them like this. Shane has removed you, Yuna. That’s it, game over. She has just said that you and now, by default, me, will not be told anything until Shane allows it; we aren't getting near our son, and it is entirely your fault. Right at this moment, I can barely look at you; I do not even want to be near you after what you have done. So I would very much appreciate it if you shut up while I see if you have managed to destroy both of our relationships with our son or not.”

He let out a sigh. David was not one for raising his voice, and it didn’t feel very good, but he had been holding on to his temper for hours now, and this was just the last straw. He wasn’t even angry; well, he was, but right now all he felt was worried. There was so much he didn’t know, and Shane had looked pale under his usual tan shade. That worry on Rozanov’s face had been all too real, too. 

There was a look on her familiar, still sweet face that David had never seen before as she took in his words. It wasn't enough to soften him, though; right now he really didn’t want to be near her. Never, not in all their years together, had he ever even raised his voice to her, never mind told her to shut up. The shock had at least made her silent long enough for him to turn and address the poor Nurse who had been left with them. 

“I am sorry, Nurse Henderson. My wife can be overzealous at times, when it comes to our son. Please excuse her behaviour. Is there really nothing we can know? Not even if we wait just so we know that's going to be alright?”

David knew he sounded like he was pleading; he was, he completely and totally was. Right now, there was nothing he wouldn't do to get the tiniest scrap of information about his son. Those pretty hazel eyes softened when they turned to him; something on his face or in what he had said must have been enough for a crack in her armour because she let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over her eyes in a habitual gesture of pure exhaustion. 

“Fine, Mr Hollander, I will go and enquire if you can be given any information, since it wasn’t you by name that has been removed. However, I will warn you, your son has no obligations to either of you right now, and his new medical proxy has even less. Do not be surprised if the answer is no.”

With that, she turned and gave the guards instructions to escort them to a waiting room and a guard to be stationed at the door. David silently followed after the guard when he started to lead the way, more than prepared to wait this out if it gave him a sliver of hope of news about Shane. 

Nadia strode after Ilya Rozanov and a man whom she damn well knew was the Bears' head Coach, Jon LeClaire. Now, with the way Ilya had been acting, it was clear their bond was mirroring, and whatever fucking level Carrier Shane Hollander was, it was ridiculously high, as was their compatibility score by what she had witnessed. Gloria had tried to give her a heads-up that the two were likely coming in, but she hadn’t gotten the message until she had been out of surgery, which was why she had missed Ilya trying to call her own phone. 

Hence the utter travesty of a shit show down there because she hadn’t had enough warning to set up a VIP entrance for the pair. That would need to be looked at immediately; today could not happen again. There had been far too much risk to everyone involved; if Shane had gone totally feral, if either of them had, then someone would have been killed, or if Ilya hadn’t kept a hold on both his mate and his own sanity. By the reaction Shane had displayed when he had caught sight and scent of his mother, it was extremely likely she would have been a feral Shane Hollander’s first target. Which was not something that Nadia wanted to deal with in her hospital, thank you very much, nor would she wish that situation on anyone, let alone a young, feral, pregnant Carrier. 

As soon as they reached the most secure VIP treatment room in the hospital, she slipped in front of the three men and unlocked it with a quick flash of her VIP access-only card.

“In here, please, gentlemen.”

Ilya carefully set Shane down on the large, actual bed, since this room was not a traditional hospital room. This was a room for very powerful people, and while these two didn’t qualify ordinarily, they certainly did for security reasons. As Nadia carefully observed, Ilya laid his mate down ever so gently, although he didn't let go; instead, he eased himself up behind the smaller man and promptly pulled him back into his arms. So Shane was cradled in the V shape of his legs and supported against his chest.  

Nadia took this moment to run her professional gaze over both men. The Russian was a picture of health, massive shoulders, arms and neck rippling with muscle as he moved. Skin and hair with a nice, healthy shine, and clearly more than fit enough with the way he had just carried a roughly 180lb man the whole distance while making it look easy. The smaller, and by smaller she very much meant that as relative to herself and Ilya Rozanov, as they were both over 6 feet tall, Shane Hollander looked a bit pale under his smooth tanned skin tone as well as a little shaky. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Doctor Nadia Henderson. I take it Gloria sent you to me after you couldn’t get in touch? Which I apologise for; I was in surgery. In future, I will make sure you can contact my head Nurse, who is my wife and completely trustworthy, I assure you. Are you both alright with LeClaire staying in the room for this?”

Those eyes flickered up to her; clearly, the bond was still fully active because Ilya Rozanov normally did not have dark golden, eerily glowing eyes. Like a hunting tiger at night, those eyes. 

“Da, he can stay. Thank you, not your fault. Gloria told us you could help?”

Fuck, his voice was deep. As a velvet dragged over gravel, then dipped in honey, a dark and dangerous undertone that made her straighten her spine to her full, impressive height; she was 6'2. Nadia was not a small woman, nor was she easily intimidated by anyone, but the sheer power in the air around these two was making her hair stand on end, and every nerve in her body was poised for either fight or flight. 

“Of course. Can you explain what’s wrong?”

Here she looked to Shane, who had yet to move. There was a deeply buried, but faint flicker of fear in those glowing orbs. Whatever had happened had clearly spooked them both. Ilya tightened his arms around Shane’s waist and slipped a large hand under the thick black fabric to settle it; she could make an educated guess that there would still only be a very small, if any, swelling that housed their baby. 

Gloria had filled her in on the basics at least, over the phone after the night she had treated Svetlana, but that had not really prepared her for the visual of it right in front of her eyes. Knowing that Shane Hollander was a high-level, pregnant Carrier was one thing; fucking seeing it was absolutely completely different. 

“May I have a look?”

Nadia was not stupid; she wouldn't approach, would not touch until given express permission from both of them. After all, she had seen what a held-back Shane Hollander had done to Svetlana’s arm and shoulder; she would like to keep all her limbs attached, thank you very much. 

Ilya helped Shane sit up, keeping his own body behind to support his mate as he leaned forward to pull off the hoodie and lifted the too-large raider's shirt that was underneath it. Nadia could see it as soon as the shirt was lifted. There was a very small swelling at the base of his abdomen; if you didn't know what you were looking for, then it would be easy to miss, especially with the fuller, softer type of muscles that Shane had. The man was still powerfully built, still fitter and stronger than most, but he had a layer of fat under his muscles that was more common in Carriers than normal males. 

In fact, he was still slightly underweight by the looks of his ribcage and the lack of extra layers in places; it seemed like his body had condensed the little extra it had to pad out his hips, stomach and thighs to help protect and cushion the strain of the baby’s extra weight. 

Nadia stepped forward, snapping a new set of gloves on and pulling her stethoscope from around her neck as she came to a stop just a foot or so away from the mated pair. She asked again, doubly making sure they both accepted the fact she needed to touch Shane for this. 

“May I?”

There was a pause; golden eyes assessed her. She caught the soft little sniff Shane gave, testing her scent for any lies, deceit or possible notes that would indicate she was a danger. Once he processed it, he gave a low rumbling purr as he gave her a nod and spoke for the first time. 

“Yes, please, make sure my baby is okay. I was bleeding earlier; Gloria said to come to you. Since we can’t get to her yet.”

He sounded so young. He WAS young and clearly scared. Carefully, she pressed her fingers around the soft swelling and palpated the muscles. 

“Tell me if anywhere I am pressing hurts, please, and can you explain a little more about where and how much you were bleeding?”

Shane was tense under her touch, but Ilya had yet to let go, and it seemed his mate’s presence was just enough to keep them both stable for her to do the physical exam. There were no obvious signs of bruising on the skin, which would be an indication of internal bleeding or really any outward obvious issues that she could see or feel, so she took a step back to observe for a moment or two as Shane spoke. 

“There was bleeding when I woke up this morning, light spotting like bleeding in my underwear and when I went to the bathroom. The pain is in my back and hips but not cramping, more a soreness.”

Nadia was pretty sure she knew what was going on, but to be sure she had to ask a few slightly awkward questions. 

“I need to ask you a few slightly more sensitive questions here, but you must answer me honestly and in as much detail as you can. Or I can’t help as easily.”

One blond eyebrow quirked at her; a rather rakish smirk was curled at the corner of that full, mobile mouth, whereas poor Shane had instantly turned a fetching shade of red that made his lovely scattering of freckles stand out all the more. 

“How often are you both engaging in sexual intercourse, and are you, Shane, always the one being penetrated? How would you describe the size of your penis, Ilya? ”

That blush just got worse. Nadia kept her face professional and did not let the grin slide across her face no matter how much she wanted to. It was Ilya who answered, which was not a surprise; he clearly was not embarrassed at all by the questions. 

“Very big. 9 inches. A lot, many times a day, as much as we can, and I don’t bottom.”

Now she rolled her eyes. Good God, they were fucking horndogs, weren’t they? No wonder Shane was experiencing some discomfort and bleeding. Nadia locked her gaze onto the cause of this and narrowed her eyes in a stern glower. Now she was completely sure she knew what was wrong. 

“Shane has a condition called Cervical Ectropion. It can be caused by too rough irritation from anal sex, so that is because a Carrier’s cervix sits near the prostate. Especially when the penetrating penis is larger than average. Since cervical ectropion is completely benign and doesn't impact fertility or the current pregnancy, it should not require treatment unless symptoms become severe.”

Here she raised an expectant eyebrow at Ilya. 

“Which means, you need to get off each other for a few days.”

The look on Ilya Rozanov’s face was priceless as Nadia pointed her pen at him, where she was quickly adding to Shane’s notes. 

“You need to keep your genitals to yourself; if Shane ends up back here again, I will sedate your ass and numb your penis. Understand?”

An amused snort came from the corner where LeClaire was sitting quietly out of the way. Shane had hidden his face in his hands; she could see even the tips of his ears had gone bright red. Ilya, however, glared up at her, but he did nod and wrap his arms back around the heavily blushing Shane and turn him so his mate could hide his face in his chest for a moment till he got himself back under control. Unfortunately for Shane, Nadia was not finished embarrassing them yet. 

“There are plenty of other ways to give him an orgasm. Male carriers can orgasm from nipple stimulation alone; try that for once. Give his ass a break.”

This time the smirk was filthy. Ilya turned it down onto the man in his arms and was about to slip his hands up the back of the shirt when Nadia stopped him in his tracks. 

“Oy, get off him. Practise some restraint. Fucking hell.”

Ilya withdrew his hands with a grumble but did as he was told. Obviously she had been classed as both safe and allowed a little leeway, which was how Gloria had described her interactions with the two by the time she had discharged Shane. 

The eye roll and the pout were rather divaish for a massive, hulking hockey player though, which made it all the more amusing to watch. Like a giant puppy being told no and made to drop his favourite toy. 

“Come back and see either Nurse Henderson or me if the symptoms don’t ease once you have not had 9 inches in your ass for a few days… hmmm? Shane, you can take standard anti-inflammatory painkillers if you need to and soaking in a nice hot bath will help ease the soreness.”

That at least got an embarrassed little laugh and a murmured “thanks” out of Shane and a dark chuckle from Ilya. LeClaire was doing his best to smother his laughter in the corner, but Nadia had clocked him a couple of times, thoroughly amused by her language. Shane finally straightened and pulled himself together to look at her cheekbone, not able to directly meet her gaze. 

“Thank you. We appreciate you seeing us like this. Sorry to bother you for something that turned out to not be as serious as it looked or felt.”

Nadia waved the apology away. After all, logically there had been bleeding; Shane had recently experienced a close call according to Gloria, so it was an understandable reaction. 

“No need. Better to be cautious than not. Just learn some restraint, yes? Now do you want us to tell your parents anything or keep them shut out? You are not required to; Ilya is your legal proxy and next of kin now, as all the paperwork for that side of it Gloria put through first. It is up to you.”

That dark head lowered as Ilya lifted them both to their feet and LeClaire stood also. Shane gave her a suddenly cold, furious look that had the gold sparking in those deep brown eyes again. 

“Nyet. No. Tell them nothing.”

Ilya’s voice had lost that softer, more playful lilt it had had just moments before when they had been going back and forth a little. Now it was back to being dangerous, cruel and ice cold. 

“Of course. That is your right. We will not tell them anything.”

As she finished, she clicked the door open; two of the guards had remained standing on either side of the frame. Nadia nodded to them both and addressed them. 

“Take them out of the VIP exit. No one comes close; escort them to their car and let them out of the staff exit.”

Both gave her a salute, and Ilya pulled Shane in close, his hood pulled back up, and LeClaire shielding them from behind. This VIP section was not accessible by the public anyway, so Nadia was not worried, but she did watch to make sure that they got out of sight without any further incident. 

 

Once she was happy that Shane and Ilya were safely on their way, Nadia turned on her heel and strode back to where she had left her wife and the Hollander parents. Now, to see what mess Yuna fucking Hollander had caused in her absence. 

The answer to that was a lot. From the pissed-off, slightly hurt look hidden in Kate’s beautiful hazel eyes when she strode back in through the doors, it seemed that Yuna Hollander had a death wish. Nadia reached out an arm and pulled her wife into her embrace. 

“Are you alright, Kat? How bad was she?”

Kate let her weight rest in her arms for just a moment before straightening and pushing her glasses up her nose with a sigh. 

“Pretty bad. Mr Hollander lost his temper with her, though, which I do not blame him for. She threatened to give my name to her lawyers and told me ‘some lowly scrub nurse with an inflated idea of her own self-worth,’ which you know, was lovely and flattering. I have sent them to the family waiting lounge because they wouldn’t leave. How is Shane? Is everything alright?”

Nadia tightened her arm around that curvy waist and pressed a kiss to the crown of those lovely curls; the familiar, sweet scent of Kate’s shampoo soothed some of the deep, abiding rush of fury that was sweeping through her. How fucking dare Yuna Hollander call her wife a lowly scrub nurse? Fuck no. Not on her watch was that going to stand. 

“Shane is fine. Ilya needs to keep his dick in his pants, but that's all. Cervical ectropion, from too much fucking. A few days' rest and he will be good to go, if they can keep their hands off each other longer than the car ride home. I’ve seen dogs in heat hump less than those two, to do that kind of irritation in such a short span of time. They only left Montreal just over a week ago.”

That got a pretty laugh out of her wife as she guided them through towards where the Hollanders were currently sequestered, wasting away into mushrooms. It was time to set Yuna Hollander straight.

They both nodded to the guard who stood sentinel just outside the room. The door was wide open; Yuna Hollander was pacing a circle around the edge while David Hollander was sitting in one of the chairs, slumped and clearly done in. Kate cleared her throat and got their attention as Nadia straightened up to her full, rather intimidating height; she was taller than both of them, which was rather fucking satisfying. She used that height to her advantage now and narrowed her eyes down into a glare that had previously been known to make grown men, who were a lot more terrifying than this slip of a woman, almost wet their pants. 

“Your son has rightfully refused us to be able to share any of his information, medical or otherwise. We are under no obligation to share any information with you from the moment the form was signed to change the medical proxy. Get it through your thick fucking skull, he has removed you. You have no right to control your adult son anymore. Time for you to leave now.”

Nadia was pretty fucking sure that Yuna Hollander was about to explode like a kettle being left too long on a stove. She was positively vibrating with indignant anger, but Nadia was not done yet. 

“If you even breathe the fucking threat of lawyers towards my head nurse and wife again, I will ruin you. I have utterly no sympathy for you; it was your own choice to lie, to betray those closest to you, those that you were fucking meant to protect. I will make sure that you have to hide so far under a stinking, dirt-filled rock that you will never be found. You have no legal leg to stand on here, and it is an empty threat. Now get your asses out of my fucking hospital before I throw you out.”

Yuna Hollander had gone pale under her normally tanned skin tone; her fingers were clenched so tightly into fists at her sides that Nadia would not be surprised if she had broken the skin on her palms. For a few moments, Nadia let the woman splutter and try to form a defence, but she had nothing, and they both knew it. Honestly, she didn’t really care. She turned to Gary, the head guard, who stood just outside the room and gestured at him towards the Hollanders. 

“Make sure they leave.”

Dark green eyes steadily met her own, and the huge, bear-like man nodded and saluted her. 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She did not wait to watch the fallout. Nadia was so thoroughly fucking done with people today; she was tired, she needed a can of Monster, Ultra white out of her stash hidden in her office and very possibly sex with her beautiful wife if she could get away with it. With that in mind, she coiled her arm around that lovely waist and tugged Kate along with her; already a half-formed plan of locking her office door was swimming around in her mind as they went. 

It was late; they could sneak half an hour. Nadia had not committed murder; she damn well deserved a reward, and she knew exactly what she wanted. She leaned down and purred into Kate’s ear, stroking her hand across the lush curve just under the swell of her breasts. 

“I think I deserve a reward here. I was very good; I resisted the urge for murder.” 

Nadia grinned softly at the very slight shiver that ran through the smaller body in front of her; she ghosted her lips against the sensitive outer shell of her ear as she bracketed her wife up against the cool glass of her office door. 

As she nudged open the familiar door, she slid her hand down and gave Kate a firm push, with her hand cupping the lovely round shape of her ass in her hand as she did. The sweet, innocent little smile Kate threw over her shoulder sent a tingle of heat down her spine as she pulled down the blinds and clicked the lock shut behind them. 

 

Chapter 11: A Coach's tale

Chapter Notes

This chapter has a section of F/F smut, so here is your warning for that. It starts at the page break, in Nadia's office ...

Enjoy what was meant to be a quick backstory chapter. Instead have 16k.

23/09/26 - Little update .. This has not been abandoned, I promise! I am just finishing the original version of it, Some Secrets Won't be Kept, and I am 3 chapters away from that being completed. As soon as that is done, I will be back here, and this will become the main fic. I was struggling to switch between the two, and both were suffering for it, and it was slowing me down, so that is why. Please do not panic just because it's been a couple of weeks. I will be back shortly. ❤️ Thank you for your patience.

 

Jon LeClaire had been the Boston Bears' head coach for years now. He was young, by Head Coach standards, and had, in fact, been both laughed at to his face and behind his back by most of the other, older teams' management. Well, that was until he had proved it was not a mistake. Jon was not someone who gave up. It had taken him a while to understand, to get his new Captain to let him in, but once he had, it had been like someone had given a key to a forbidden door.

Ilya Rozanov. Star Centre. Utter and complete powerhouse. At first glance, a cocky, handsome, Russian playboy who liked fast cars and parties. Even Jon had fallen for it at first, when they had drafted him, but that was because it had been exactly what Ilya had wanted them all to see: the surface, the mask, the fake media-created persona.

The first crack had come when Jon had come in extra early one morning, barely days after they had signed the Russian teenager; even the cleaning staff hadn't been in yet, but the low-level rink lights were on, and as he had ventured silently over to look, there was a figure on the ice. Alone. Silent and running through drills that Jon didn't recognise.

After that, Jon checked the log. Ilya Rozanov skated alone, before anyone else was around, at least 4 times a week. He waited for a few weeks for the Russian to establish his pattern, then he quietly made himself visible with two coffees in his hands one morning. Neither of them spoke, but Jon kept doing it, like he was trying to coax a wolf closer, a wild, feral wolf that was not all he seemed.

Jon had been bringing different types of coffee each time, but none had gotten a particularly positive response; Ilya drank them all, with just a silent nod of thanks. It had been an accident one morning when he bought himself a black tea, having woken with a headache, and coffee often made it worse; automatically, he had ordered two of the same.

This time Ilya had gone to take a drink, only to suddenly pause and take an interested sniff instead; a much softer smile than Jon was used to seeing graced that handsome, expressive face.

"Hmm. Good tea."

And that was all the comment Jon had gotten, but it had been more than every single coffee on the menu had gotten him, so Jon had deduced that Ilya Rozanov was actually a tea drinker, not a coffee drinker. It had taken him a few tries, but the favoured drink was very strong black leaf tea with a spoonful of honey, not sugar. The honey had been a suggestion from a Russian traditions website that Jon would never admit to delving into because of a vague memory that Russians drink tea.

It was the hidden intelligence that was the hardest to get Ilya to show. Jon had been thoroughly on board with his young Captain's cleaning of house as soon as he was given the C, even though in comparison to most, the Bears locker room was tame compared to others. Ilya had made it clear from day one that it was not happening once he took over.

By the time Ilya had taken the C, Jon had made progress with the kid, and he was still a kid, no matter his massive size. So he had been trusted, at least to some extent, and Ilya had come to him, had let him help.

Within 18 months of Ilya taking the Captaincy, they had gotten rid of every player that had not conformed to the Bears' new policy of no tolerance for homophobic or racial slurs. Not that there had been many. Most of them had been low-level, since it was something that Jon didn't hold with either; why would he, when he himself was bisexual? Not out, at least not publicly, but he was considering telling Ilya.

Ilya was damn good at hiding it. Jon would give the kid that. The only reason he had picked up anything at all was his own situation, and then the moment he had seen the Russian lock eyes with Shane Hollander at centre ice.

The first ever time they had played Montreal, Jon had seen the spark. Oh, there was a rivalry there; they pushed each other in a way no one else did, because no one else was on their level. However, that wasn't everything; under that drive to beat each other, which was definitely real, Jon could see that from the very first game, there was something else. Something that drew the two together time and time again.

Jon had clocked the pattern: every time they played the Voyageurs, no matter if they were at home or away at Montreal, Ilya would vanish right after the game. Without fail, but if, like Jon, you are highly observant and worried about your chaotic, half-feral adopted adult child, then you also noticed that it was not just Ilya that vanished; so did Shane Hollander.

 

That was until Hollander was splashed all over the internet with Rose Landry of all people. Jon had watched Ilya closely. His mood had plummeted; he had worked harder than ever and put the team through hell, which had ironically improved all their stats, but Ilya was miserable. It sort of cemented everything Jon had suspected, but it also broke his heart to see the young man he considered his own hurting so badly.

He had waited until the rest of the team all but ran to escape the fury that was currently their Captain, then slowly Jon approached the stilled, hunched-over form that was slumped in his cubby.

"Ilya?"

Blue eyes looked up, tired and with dark circles visible around that pale skin.

"Coach?"

Jon knelt down in front of the blond, carefully placed a hand on one broad shoulder. He was going to push; he hadn't done this before, but looking at the state of Ilya now, it was time to take a risk.

"Come on, son, get changed; you are coming with me."

The fact that Ilya just let out a rough sigh and obeyed was not as reassuring as it should be; in fact, it was downright worrying. Ilya was done within minutes; he had been half changed already, and Jon had gathered his stuff while the Russian was doing a quick scan for anything he had forgotten.

Still, the worrying quiet continued as Jon ushered the taller form into his car and pointed them towards home; he had two big steaks that he could grill quick enough and maybe convince the kid to stay the night at least. Ilya looked like he hadn't slept properly in days. It hadn't affected his play yet, but Jon knew he was heading for a burnout soon.

It took a bit of coaxing, but he managed to get the steak, homemade fries, and mixed vegetables into the still-too-silent Russian. A bit of colour had returned to those pale cheeks by the time Jon had them both settled in front of his TV with a large mug of tea each and a Voyageurs game playing. He would have preferred alcohol for this conversation, but somehow he didn't think that was a good idea; also, he did not have a decent vodka in, and the whole team knew that was all Ilya Rozanov drank, of choice.

Instead, he watched as the hulking, 6'4 frame slowly relaxed, those massive shoulders lowered, and the eyes lost some of their haunted look.

Jon did not miss the way that Ilya's eyes tracked every movement that Hollander made, though. The way those eyebrows pulled down, and something dark entered the blue of his eyes whenever the Voyageurs failed to keep up with their captain, or the way they would subtly freeze him out. It was not the first time that Jon had seen this kind of behaviour from their rival team; he had watched hours and hours of tape after all, but it was definitely getting worse.

Only once it was clear that Hollander had secured them the win, with a dangerously powerful backhand, did Ilya relax. Even though the game wasn't quite over, Ilya sat back and smirked at the screen.

"They will not catch him now."

Jon did not disagree, but he did take the opening and sat forward to make Ilya meet his gaze.

"Son, want to explain what's been going on? Because you are heading for a crash and burn right now, and I can't help if you don't let me in."

Ilya shook his head, but he didn't retreat.

"Cannot. Not only my secret to tell."

Well, that pretty much confirmed Jon's suspicions, but he wouldn't push, not on that route anyway, not yet.

"Then tell me the bits you can, please."

Tired, lonely and very possibly scared, dark blue eyes locked onto his own.

"I fucked up. Pushed too hard, even though I knew, I knew it was too much."

Right now, Ilya Rozanov looked so fucking young; there was a glassy sheen to those eyes, pain, fear and an all-encompassing self-hatred all there, on clear display to see. Jon wanted to reach out, wanted to hug this damaged, affection-starved child, but Ilya wasn't done.

"Scared them off. Don't know how to fix. Or if I should even try- not so simple as most, our situation."

Jon took a deep breath and moved closer. One step at a time here.

"Okay, so the problems aren't just between the two of you? There are outside issues too?"

A cautious nod.

"Da. Serious, big ones. My Lyubimyy is rightfully afraid."

That was obviously a Russian pet name, but it was helpful for Ilya to be able to avoid using gender pronouns, so Jon just nodded and steepled his fingers under his chin as he rested his elbows on his knees. Now he was going to push, not for a name, but for information.

"Russia or the NHL?"

Startled, blue eyes snapped warily up to him, calculating and intelligent, weighing how much Jon might be fishing in the dark or if it was more than that.

"Da, both. Russia, it is against the law; NHL are bigoted motherfuckers."

It was quiet, like even saying it out loud was too much, but that was all Jon needed: the opening, the reason to share.

"Then at least for the NHL, we have that in common, son. Although I wasn't publicly outed, it cost me my career."

There was a look of both utter understanding and sympathy on that handsome face as Ilya regarded him, head tilted to one side as he was examined. Jon held still and let Ilya read him; he wasn't hiding, not here, not anymore.

"You like both or just men?"

Ilya wouldn't meet his gaze; those huge hands were tight on his knees, and god, he somehow looked so small, so fragile that Jon's heart went out to him.

"Both, Bisexual. Known since I was a teenager, had something with a fellow team member, thought it was more; it was for me, but he disagreed. Turned down my feelings and threatened to tell if I didn't take a transfer. That derailed my career; then I was injured, so I retired early and took up Coaching instead."

He watched as first the outrage, then the sadness flitted across Ilya's face.

"I am sorry that happened to you, Jon. Not fair; it should not happen."

Jon nodded but patted Ilya gently on the knee as he smiled, a bit sadly at the younger man.

"Long time ago now, kid. I am not in the same position I was back then, and the other guy never did get any better; in fact, looking at him now, I dodged a bullet, I think. But what I am saying is that I understand, and I want to help. You do not tell me who, not until they are ready, but I need you to know that you are not alone here."

Now a few stray tears had started to fall, but Jon just huffed and gave in; he moved and pulled the bigger blond into his side, holding him close and pretending that he couldn't hear the very soft, stifled sniffles as Ilya Rozanov finally, finally let go and cried. Instead, he rubbed slow, careful circles on the broad, muscular back and felt the very slow, very tentative relaxing of the body in his arms.

"You are not alone anymore, Ilya. I promise. I have you, I have our team, we will do this. Together. Okay?"

Jon knew it would take more than this to get Ilya to really believe him, but this was a very good start. He would not allow it to get this bad again, and he would be keeping a much closer eye on Shane Hollander too, because if Ilya ever did tell him, then Jon wanted to be ready. If he ever met this kid's family, then he would be very fucking tempted to punch his father, and possibly the asshole of a brother too, consequences be damned, because Ilya was so fucking hurt, so scared, and so damn lonely. Well, not anymore, not while Jon was here. He would drag the massive Russian into something like a family; it wasn't like Jon had anyone either; this was for both of them.

 

Four weeks. Then something had changed again; that something Jon was pretty sure was the fact that Shane Hollander had ended his very short-lived relationship with the actress Rose Landry. Obviously Ilya hadn't reached out, because he wasn't back to the way he was before, but he was a tad more hopeful, much to the team's relief because Jon had been very much on board with Ilya running them ragged. Their numbers had improved so much that when they had appealed to him, he had just laughed at them and told them if they thought that this was hard, then he would let Ilya run them as he had experienced in Russia. That had shut the lot of them up pretty fucking quickly, since they had all caught the seemingly casual throwaway comments that Ilya made; most were utterly horrifying to the American-born and bred players.

Then came the breakthrough. Tampa Bay All-Star weekend. Of course, Jon had known that Shane Hollander would also be there, and for the first time, the pair had been put on the same team. There was an awful lot of speculation about what the League were thinking, putting those two on the same team, but fucking hell, it had been terrifyingly wonderful to watch. Most had been on the line of thinking that the two would never get along, that egos were too big and Rozanov would never defer to Hollander as Captain, but Jon had known different.

If there was one player that Ilya utterly respected, revered and watched with an obsession that bordered on worrying sometimes, it was Shane Hollander. Of course there was more to it, or at least more that Jon knew, behind that helmet kiss, but the hockey world was never the smartest and Jon, for once, was extremely grateful.

Ilya had come from that brighter than Jon had possibly ever seen him, and once again glued to his phone. Which had sparked the team to pick back up on their light-hearted teasing that their Captain had his girl 'Jane' back. The whole atmosphere was lighter, and Jon had sent up a silent prayer that his kid could catch a break, just for once.

Of course that hadn't happened. Two weeks. That was all the universe had given Ilya Rozanov to be happy, two fucking weeks. They had all heard the phone call; the biting, almost shouted Russian had run through the locker room. Jon hadn't moved that fast in years when one of the equipment boys had come panting up to him and managed to cough out that Rozanov was having some sort of epic row over the phone in Russian.

Jon had taken off before the young man could finish; he knew that Ilya's father was ill, and the brother was a piece of shit. Ilya had hinted as much when it was just them, eating whatever simple meal Jon had been able to tempt the kid home with. Steak, pasta and anything sweet afterwards were always a good choice. He threw the locker room door open, his heart hammered into his chest as his eyes scanned the room; the whole team were crowded around the crumpled, blank form of Ilya on the floor.

He took a deep breath, then waded in.

"Move it, you lot, Marlow, shift your giant ass now. St Simone, get his stuff. Chouinard, go pull Roz's car around; I will take him. Someone go tell them we aren't doing press."

Here he sent a glare to his biggest players. You four come with me, wall of silence, you understand?"

Cliff Marlow, Victor St Simone, Evan Dykstra and his Goalie, Wyatt Hayes, all gave him a nod of grim agreement and moved. The rest of the team cast concerned looks at Ilya, but Jon had already approached, his voice low and pitched so only those closest could hear as he put his hands gently on Ilya's broad shoulders.

"Come on, son, up you get. I've got you. We need to move."

It sent a shot of something warm and tender through Jon's chest when Ilya looked up at his voice, at his touch.

"That's it, up you get, on your feet now. There's no way I am carrying your huge ass."

That got a very feeble smirk, but it was there, and that chilling blank look was clearing from those dark blue eyes as Ilya let him hoist him up by his shoulders. Jon was only half joking, since Ilya was both taller and heavier than him, but he was only in his early 40s, still very fit and healthy. So when Ilya stumbled, Jon did in fact catch him, steadied the blond and kept his arm around his back as they made their way out to the staff car park, as far away from the prying eyes of the press as they could get.

As soon as they were safely in the car, Jon turned and made Ilya look at him, his hand firm but gentle under his chin.

"Your father?"

Wide, frightened blue eyes were half pleading, half lost as Jon reached over and finally hugged him. Even with the awkward angle, Ilya all but melted into him.

"Da, that was my brother. I must go; I must fly back."

Jon couldn't understand, but he could see it all over Ilya's too-pale face. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled the car out towards the main road, while pointing towards the phone still clutched in Ilya's hand.

"Book your flight, son. We will go pack, then I will take you to the airport. Then call your 'Jane', please."

Shaking fingers were already dialling, even before Ilya had booked the flight. Most of the conversation was in Russian, with a tiny bit of English thrown in, but by the time Ilya clicked off the call, he looked much calmer, less shaken and had managed to switch back to English.

"Thank you."

He shook his head and patted the knee he could reach.

"You don't have to thank me for caring about you, son, but get that flight booked. I want the details, and I want you to keep in touch. Promise me, Ilya. Or I'll come with you."

That at least got a nod and an agreement.

"Da, will keep in touch. Will only be staying as long as I have to. Week at most."

Jon wanted to sigh; the kid never took time off, but he also knew that it wasn't the easiest situation, and more than half of him wanted to say fuck it and book a second ticket; however, that meant Ilya had no one on this side if something happened, so he would resist.

As Jon watched the tall, broad figure disappear through the boarding gate, he was already plotting and sending out messages: the Bears would close ranks; this would not get out to the public, not on his watch, and he would be right here waiting for when the blond got back. It was the least he could do.

 

Ilya had said a week, and a week it was. The Russian was back and playing in 8 days. Jon watched him, silently supported the best Ilya would allow, and made sure the kid was in constant contact with 'Jane ', who seemed to be the anchor point that Ilya was clinging to.

Jon had just about started to breathe again when the disastrous game against the Montreal Voyageurs threatened to bring it all crashing down around their ears. Cliff hadn't meant for the hit to be that bad; it had, in fact, been a clean one, but Hollander's own teammate had gotten in the way, and Hollander had ended up being the one taking the brutal brunt of it, as he tried his best to avoid a pile-up. Had almost succeeded, actually, if that neat little spin and twist hadn't been intercepted by his own useless fucking teammate. Jon was disappointed to know that Theriault really hadn't improved over the years.

The way Ilya had been on the ice, fuck, it had been heartbreaking. Jon had gone to him as soon as the refs managed to pull the hulking Russian away, and it hadn't been easy. Ilya Rozanov was a powerfully built man; even without his gear on, it had taken three of them to move him, and that had been more because he seemed to be half out of his mind, rather than actively fighting them. Hollander had been stretchered off the ice, and Ilya had folded in on himself, completely confirming every theory Jon had about 'Jane ', not that now was the time to crow about just how right he had been.

Instead, he confirmed where Hollander had been taken and quietly made sure Ilya both knew and had a spare couple of hours before they had to leave to sneak and see him. Jon had kept the kid close once they flew home; he looked worse now than he had with the news of his father passing away, and that worried Jon.

So he hadn't been surprised when he had gotten the cryptic text barely 24 hours after they had returned. Ilya had phrased it so that only Jon would understand, and he had, for once, trusted that Jon wouldn't push until he was ready. He had kept up the appearance of being annoyed, but that's all it was. However, he had torn Cliff a new one when he found out the idiot had gone over there, even if his description had made a few more things slot into place in Jon's mind.

He could be patient, though. Which had, of course, paid off when Ilya had appeared again, played like a demon and then vanished, but not before telling Jon in private that 'Jane' was here and he would explain as soon as he could, under the cover of Ilya getting his ass kicked for the missed practice and radio silence.

The panicked phone call had been unexpected, but Jon had, of course, dropped everything and gotten into his car; the fact that Ilya had both phoned him and sounded so rattled had Jon pushing every speed limit he could risk to get to the lovely, sprawling house that Ilya had bought a couple of years ago.

Quickly he entered the gate code and drove up the drive, where he spotted the familiar, broad shoulders of Ilya as he stood waiting, the gate camera having obviously clued him in to his arrival. The look of fear and panic was visible the moment Jon stepped out, as was the obvious change in Ilya; there was a shimmering haze, a kind of aura surrounding him that had Jon, for some inexplicable reason, instinctively baring his throat and lowering his gaze as he approached. Something primal and deeply buried had surged to the surface at the sight of those blue eyes that were suddenly ringed with a thick band of glowing gold.

"Ilya? Son, what's happened? Are you alright?"

He waited until Ilya dropped his shoulders, eased his tense stance and gave him clear permission to approach before he moved any closer to the doorway.

"I am sorry for calling Jon…but I didn't know who else I could trust."

Jon stepped closer, keeping his body relaxed and as unthreatening as possible. There was more going on here than he knew, but he would happily follow Ilya's lead. At the door, Ilya paused and half-turned, his eyes still glowing but something softer, more afraid in his gaze than Jon had expected.

"Jon…"

He paused, not moving closer until Ilya continued.

"Jon… You guessed who my 'Jane' was, Da?"

Carefully, he took a deep breath before he answered that rather loaded question.

"I had a very good idea of who it could be, yes, but I was never going to ask, not until you were ready to tell me. Both of you."

Ilya rubbed his hand roughly through his hair; the fingers caught, then pulled briefly on the tangled curls, and he exhaled as he beckoned Jon forward, silently moving to allow Jon to come towards the inside of the house. As he followed silently behind, Jon took in the clear signs that there was now more than Ilya living here: the neat shoe rack, the fleece blankets, the second laptop and the new appearance of glasses on the coffee table. There was a warmth to the house that it lacked last time Jon had been here; if this was the kind of difference that Shane Hollander could make in barely a week, then Jon was all for this.

There was a figure curled up on the huge sofa, bundled up in what was clearly one of Ilya's Bears hoodies, as it was massive on his smaller frame. Not that Jon couldn't also wear the damn thing like a dress, because he wasn't small, and yet Ilya's shoulders were so wide it was a little ridiculous at times. Those dark brown eyes, pretty face and distinctive freckles were unmistakable, though, even if he hadn't already been expecting Shane Hollander.

 

The air was heavy; whatever Jon had felt outside was far more concentrated here, inside the house, around Hollander more so than Ilya. Gold bled into brown as Hollander sat up; Jon froze in the doorway, that same instinct from outside demanding he tilt his head and flash the very vulnerable line of his throat. Then he lowered his head and kept it bowed, with his hands visible at his sides as Ilya showed no such concern and strode back to the other man. There was no pause, no hesitation at Jon's presence, at least not from Ilya, as the blond leaned down to brush the sweetest, softest kiss Jon had ever seen across those freckled cheeks.

He couldn't understand what was said next, but apparently Hollander did, because those eyes flickered up and down him, seemingly in response to whatever Ilya had said.

"It's okay, Lyubimyy, Jon is safe. He already guessed, just never pushed me to tell. He is like me, like us. I trust him."

Jon still didn't move as Shane stood; Ilya moved smoothly with him, worry now flooding those golden-ringed eyes, and one large hand immediately snaked around Shane's waist.

"Easy, sweetheart; we still don't know what was wrong."

Jon watched as Shane not only allowed the contact, but he in fact leaned into it, as he came a little closer; not that Jon was really understanding here, but as he stood, still motionless and waiting, Shane lifted his face and his nose up a bit, where he clearly scented the air. Then he half-turned to look up at the towering form behind him. Where Ilya was wrapped around Shane like a gigantic octopus.

"How much do you trust him, Ilyusha? Are we telling him everything or the same as we told Cliff?"

Here Ilya bit his lip and looked a bit undecided until Shane cupped his face with one long-fingered hand, his thumb rubbed soothingly back and forth across one high cheekbone.

"We can, if you trust him. He smells safe; he is definitely worried and cares. He has been looking out for you for a while, I think, Ilyusha. Also, it would give us someone else on your team in our corner; not a bad idea for it to be your head coach, love."

The sigh of relief that Jon let out escaped before he could stop it when Shane finally smiled at him and stepped back.

"Sorry about that, Coach LeClaire, I did not mean to be rude. Please come in, and we can try to explain in some sort of way that makes sense."

Unfailingly polite, that was Jon's first thought. Shane Hollander was known for being such, but it was a very pleasant experience to be on the receiving end, especially after the tension, the feeling as he had just walked, willingly, into a lion's den and come face to face with not the lion but the raging lioness.

"No problem, Hollander."

Shane held up a hand and quickly corrected him.

"Shane, please. This is going to get far too personal for last names, I fear."

That at least made Ilya let out a low, husky chuckle as he brought three large mugs of tea through, placed them on the coffee table, then eased Hollander, or Shane, as he had now been permitted to call him, down into his lap, with what looked like excruciating care.

"Jon, then, please, only fair."

What proceeded was something Jon had only ever heard of in fantasy stories, the whispered dreams of young teens or names passed over when the draft paperwork came through and one had that incriminating little red C on it. There was no actual on-paper rule that stated teams couldn't draft a player with that little C, but it was universally understood that the Commissioner would not sign off on it. Even though, from what little Jon knew about Male Carriers- and it was very little, only what was taught in most schools- that was the only available public information.

Except somehow Shane Hollander had not had that C on his paperwork; that part of the story had been very clearly glossed over as Shane had gotten a look on his face, both furious and, from what Jon could tell, rather heartbroken, and Ilya had rumbled out a low, nasty-sounding growl as he had cuddled the dark-haired man closer for a moment. Then turned back to Jon and took over as Shane stayed tucked into Ilya's neck, seeming to have exhausted his voice for now, or at least his willingness to talk.

"Shane did not know; we did not know. The bond had formed years ago, just never completed because of our circumstances. Not until we both admitted things, even if only to ourselves."

Jon's brain was working a mile a minute now, mapping out the timeline from Ilya's reactions and the parts he had been keeping an eye on from afar.

"That incident before Landry."

Ilya nodded and buried his face in that silky black hair for a moment, then he pressed a kiss where his head had been as he looked back up at Jon.

"Da, my fault, but it had shifted things between us. As you know, we sorted ourselves out at Tampa, but then there was the hit. Damage was not that bad but…"

Shane had suddenly lifted his head and turned back to face Jon as well; they both wrapped their arms around the smaller man's stomach before Ilya could seem to find the words to continue.

"There were things we did not know. Or I would not have left that day, when you got me in to see Shane after the hit."

Gently, Shane reached up and turned Ilya's face to his so he could kiss him, fully kiss, not a brush on the cheek or a quick peck. Jon felt the heat in his own face that was fortunately hidden by his dark stubble, but damn, that felt a lot like watching your kid make out in front of you for the first time; it was a strange mix of embarrassment and pride that Jon wasn't quite sure what to do with right now.

"It was not your fault, Ilyusha; you did not know any more than I did. Gloria caught us in time; we are okay. I know this morning was scary, but it seems to have stopped now. We can try that number Gloria gave us again in a minute, but I promise I feel better."

Jon watched Ilya practically melt under Shane's soft touch and gentle words, although he was going to need to know when exactly the young man had apparently learnt Russian because listening to the two of them sounded like Shane was pretty damn fluent.

This time it was Shane that started up again, trading off with the now clearly emotional Ilya; in fact, they both looked emotional. Ilya had pulled Shane back into his lap and now had a hand under that massive hoodie; Shane's arm was braced over it in the same place, and Jon had a pretty fucking good idea of what exactly they had discovered when Shane had been hospitalised.

"Neither of us was aware, but at the time I took that hit, I was already 12 weeks pregnant. The hit caused me damage, but it was more the strain it put on my body when I was already struggling to hold on. Then Ilya coming to me but leaving again was sort of the final straw from what we have come to understand. We are bonded, fully now, but at that point we were not; instead, we were both suffering bond sickness, and it was all too much. That was when my doctor rang Ilya, and he came back. If he hadn't, then there was a very real danger …"

He couldn't finish the sentence, but Jon didn't need or want him to. He could fill in the end very easily. So they were bonded, mated, however it was named; it explained an awful lot, that was for sure, but it didn't really explain why he had been phoned with Ilya in such an apparent state of panic. However, before he could ask, Shane suddenly doubled over and let out a pained hiss, his arms clamped firmly around his stomach.

Ilya was on his feet at once, Shane now cradled to his chest in a bridal carry, eyes wide and fearful at the pained, muffled whimpers from where the smaller man had buried his face into Ilya's chest. Jon was on his feet too and quickly assessing the situation; this must be what happened earlier, and since it was clearly not something that was being spread to the public, ambulance records, both of this address and who exactly it was for.

"Get him to the car, son; I'll drive you. Sit in the back with Shane. Do you have a number for his doctor?"

Shane had fallen silent, but Jon couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not; instead, he gathered Ilya and ushered them out the door, finding the familiar keys hung in a pretty key box above the shoe holder and grabbing them. The big SUV had way more space in the back than his did. Jon held the door open and helped Ilya keep his balance as he eased them both into the back seat, then leaned over to help belt them both in, being very careful not to touch Shane as he did so, but neither of them was reacting badly to his proximity, so they must have decided he was 'safe'.

As he slid into the driver's seat, he heard the call on Ilya's end connect, but it didn't make much sense to him, so he concentrated on driving.

"Boston Gen, Ilya?"

He got a nod and a grim sort of smile as he headed in that direction. Boston Gen wasn't far, and Jon knew the way; he could only hope that whoever they were meeting would be able to help.

 

The more people that crowded around them, the worse the situation got, but none of them was prepared to listen to Jon, so instead he stuck close to Ilya and guarded both boys the best he could. He did manage to step in and get Ilya to listen at least, because apparently he really had been enveloped in their definition of 'safe' since no one else seemed to be getting through.

Jon had watched as the Hollander parents had made an appearance, which was mostly what had set Shane off, and it had answered a few unasked questions about why Shane had never known. From what Jon could see, though, it was more directed at Yuna Hollander than David, or at least Shane's obvious ire was. Which was something Jon would bring up to Ilya maybe later; he had caught the look on that admittedly handsome older man's face; it was quite clear that although Shane looked very much like his mother, there was a touch of those eyes, that jaw and that full mouth from his father's side. David Hollander was still clearly fit and healthy, and Jon couldn't help the tug at his chest when he caught the utterly devastated look as Shane had ignored them.

He had had to work very hard to stifle his laughter when Ilya was told to keep his dick to himself, or he would get his ass sedated, but he was pleased that the sudden acute pain and apparent bleeding that had caused the panic in the first place was not as scary as it had all sounded. Not that Jon blamed either of them, not with what Shane had implied about the very real possibility that they could have lost the baby, and if he was reading between the lines correctly, then Shane too. It made perfect sense that they would both be on high alert here, both be more worried about the risks of it happening again. Jon was very happy to hear the lovely, if rather terrifying, Doctor explain that Shane was okay, and so was their baby.

Getting them all back had at least been easier than the rather harrowing experience of trying to get in, as well as the promised more direct contact with Doctor and Nurse Henderson, which, clearly by the looks of relief on both boys' faces, was helpful to at least ease some of the stress they were bound to be feeling. Jon kind of wanted to gather them both close and shield them from the world right now, even if they were both broader and Ilya was very much taller, even if Shane wasn't quite.

Most definitely because Jon was almost 100 per cent sure that Shane was far more hurt by his mother's actions than he had let on when they had been explaining everything. Honestly, he wasn't surprised that they were both quiet on the drive back; Jon let him have some peace, and they looked almost exhausted. Fear and panic would do that, more so than even physical strain. Ilya was sitting with Shane tucked against his side still, his face hidden in that dark hair, and even from the rearview mirror, Jon could see that those large hands were tucked under the oversized hoodie and would be staying there for a while.

When they arrived back, Jon half expected to get quickly sent away, but that was not the case. Instead, he helped Ilya out of the car and opened the doors for him to carry Shane through to the living room. Ilya called back over his shoulder as he very gently laid his mate down on the sofa.

"Sit, please. I'll make tea."

So he sat. A bright little spark of joy at not being sent away ignited in his chest; he settled himself comfortably and cast a concerned look over to Shane, but some of the colour had returned to his cheeks, and he looked better now than he had been. Jon leaned forward and smiled at the shorter man.

"How are you feeling, Shane?"

A soft blush rose up those freckled cheeks as Shane lifted a hand up and covered his face with a quiet groan, which caused Jon to chuckle lightly.

"You mean other than utterly mortified?"

The deep, soothing sounds of Russian came from the kitchen as Ilya balanced three large mugs in his hands.

"Nyet, sweetheart, no need for embarrassment now. My fault, not yours. How are you feeling? Have the painkillers they gave you started to work yet?"

Shane reached his hands out, both of them and as soon as Ilya had put the mugs down, Shane was pulling the bigger man into him. Jon just picked up his mug and let them get settled, a genuine, pleased smile on his face as he observed silently over the rim of his very good tea.

Once the tangle of limbs on the other sofa had become Shane across Ilya's lap and comfortably tucked against the bigger man's chest, Shane lifted his head and turned back to Jon, only just seeming to remember that Jon had asked how he was feeling before.

"Sorry, Jon, I didn't mean to sound snappish. Thank you for taking this so well and staying with us. It's been a bit of a mess with my parents since … everything."

Ah. Here was a gentle opening that Jon had been hoping for. Slowly he leaned forward and rested his elbow on his knee.

"Can I just offer something to think about here, boys? Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you want to."

Shane, however, just nodded and settled his weight more heavily back into the larger body behind him, Ilya's arm snug around his belly, even over the hoodie.

"Of course."

Ilya raised one blond eyebrow in curiosity and gave Jon a questioning look.

"Can I ask about what happened with your parents, Shane? Only your anger seemed directed at your mother, not your father?"

The air dropped a few degrees cooler; gold glittered in the edges of those dark brown eyes until Ilya leaned up and murmured into Shane's ear, deep and velvet soft; the Russian flowed quietly between them as Jon waited it out. He knew this wasn't aimed at him, nor was he afraid. Shane hadn't once twitched in his direction, and although Jon was well aware he was working on very little information, he would be changing that as soon as he could.

"I haven't spoken to either of them. Not since I found out."

Now Shane's voice had lost all warmth, his eyes were almost completely golden, and Jon was pretty sure he could see some rather large, wickedly sharp-looking claws peeking out from the end of the sleeve where one was flexing slightly on Ilya's thigh. This caused Ilya to tighten his arms around the smaller man and kiss him softly; one large hand had cupped the back of Shane's neck and was pressing firmly to make Shane turn and look at him.

"Wait, sweetheart. Hear, Jon out, I think I caught the same thing he did, but I was more distracted than he was. Please?"

Shane let out a huff of air as he nodded, and Jon swallowed a little nervously but continued.

"Do you know for absolute sure that you both of them knew? Because from what I could see, your Dad was acting differently than your mother. It might be worth checking, maybe?"

Shane paused, cocked his head to one side, and actually seemed to be thinking it over for a moment until he turned and widened eyes landed on Ilya.

"I mean, he had to have known, right? Mom would have told him; there is no way that I would keep something like this from you, so he had to have known, right?"

Ilya looked heartbroken and elated at the same time, although Jon had no idea what they were saying. He really needed to look at learning Russian, apparently. Ilya reached up and cupped Shane's jaw and face, his thumbs soothed beneath those wide, glowing eyes as Jon watched a few silent tears fall before Ilya pressed Shane back down into his chest and held him close. His voice rumbling low, soft words of what Jon suspected were both soothing and of adoration into that black hair.

Blue eyes flickered up to him, and Jon could read both the gratitude in them and the agreement. When he caught the shaking of those broad shoulders in Ilya's arms, he met Ilya's eyes and gestured that he would leave them to it, as well as the universal sign for Ilya to call him. He got a grateful nod and a quick, small but real smile in response as he let himself out and left the pair to it.

He would check in again soon, but Jon could tell it had all been too much for them both, and as much as he was desperate to do more to help, he would have to earn his place, to earn Shane's trust. For now, he had plans to make and lots of research to do, starting with Male Carriers and all the information he could find on the Hollanders. He needed to know what they could be up against here, and everyone in the NHL knew Yuna Hollander, even if it was only by her fearsome reputation.

Jon would not allow these boys, his now, if he had anything to say about it, to face this shit show alone. There was also the question of Montreal; he would need to do some real digging. The way they had been playing before Shane had been injured and the public attitudes that most of the players and the management of the Voyageurs had been showing in the past week did not look good.

Since Jon did, in fact, have first-hand experience of just how much of a dick Theriault could be, he was well aware that they would need a strategy to explain Shane not being fit for training or the start of the season as a possibility, and knowing Theriault, he would drop the man at the first sign of trouble. This was at least something Jon could do to help, even if he couldn't do as much as he would like, not yet at least, but Jon LeClaire was a patient man; he would wait, he would learn, he would be here.

 

 

---

Nadia's Office …

Nadia grabbed her chin before Kate could turn away and slotted her tongue where her finger had been. Her grip was unrelenting, her tongue even more so. Kate moaned softly and opened her mouth wider to give her more access, letting their tongues roll together; the sharp press of the office door dug into Kate's back as Nadia's larger, heavier body pressed into hers. A different kind of warmth filled Kate’s chest, this one hotter and deeper than the loving warmth from her wife defending her had been. She suppressed a moan as Nadia's hand crept down to the base of her neck, holding her in place as she deepened the kiss.

Nadia wrapped her arm around Kate's waist and spun them away from the door as they kissed. She eased her smaller wife down on the large, comfortable sofa, then followed her, not breaking the kiss as Kate let out a low, pleased purr. Nadia blanketed the lovely, soft form under her and relished the sparks of heat that rose from the contact between their breasts as she tugged off those pretty scrubs.

Her hands moved smoothly and quickly; they didn't have that much time, and Nadia wanted- her wife was gorgeous and had looked so damn hot standing up to that bitch. As soon as the thicker fabric was out of the way, Nadia kneaded the soft flesh and cupped her hand under the full, plump weight of one perfect tit as Kate dropped her head back onto the arm of the sofa, her hand clamped over her mouth to try to keep her moans stifled.

"That's it, stay quiet for me … there's a good girl."

She breathed out the praise into Kate's warm skin as she dragged her mouth down that sleek neck, while she ran her fingers over the curve of each breast. Both wanting to drag it out and knowing that she couldn't really risk it. Kate arched her back and tried to press her chest up into Nadia's touch as she ghosted her breath over one pebbled nipple, then the other as she watched the little buds harden instantly under her attention. That was until she felt Kate's nails dig into her hips; then she was pushed to the side. Now Nadia could definitely choose to hold against the request, but there was very little she would actually refuse her wife, so she went with the motion and settled back on the sofa. Her hands wrapped around Kate's waist as she leaned over her, helping her to balance on the surface; her dark brown curls were starting to escape the clip, and Nadia reached up and plucked it out of the long curls.

With the clip removed, Kate's beautiful mahogany curls tumbled down, and Nadia sank a hand into them with an appreciative groan. Impatient and panting slightly, Kate sank her weight down onto Nadia's lap, their lips instantly finding each other again. She wrapped her arms around Nadia's neck, holding on for dear life as their tongues tangled in a desperate, messy rhythm over and over. As Nadia ran her hands up her lithe back, nails dragging against the skin just enough to send shivers of pleasure through Kate's core and down the plush, soft lines of stretched thighs where she was open and prone over her lap. She couldn’t help but grind her hips against warmth beneath her, and Nadia's hands gripped her ass over her pants; strong fingers dug into her hips and helped by guiding her until her grinding matched the frantic pace of their kissing.

They broke away, only to moan into each other’s mouths with Kate still following Nadia's pace with all abandon and need. The way Nadia shifted so Kate was pressing them both tightly together with every filthy roll of her full hips. The warmth in her chest spread across her body, and Kate felt feverish. It was as if the day's weight, the stress of the last few hours, had been dampening her mind, and was now being lifted by every touch, every kiss. No thoughts wandered in. There was only room for sensation; the wetness making the flimsy fabric of her panties cling to her; her hard nipples straining against her bra; the almost painful way Nadia was kneading her ass; the pressure on her bottom lip as Nadia took it in her mouth and sucked, so sudden that Kate clenched her thighs from the resulting euphoric shock it sent to her clit.

She felt the vibrations of Nadia's groan against her chest, and she licked at Kate’s lips, dragging her tongue across her bottom lip before pushing against her tongue in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. Kate was completely soaked through. She knew it wouldn’t take much for her to come, and her grinding took on a renewed rigour before Nadia's strong fingers stilled her hips.

Nadia drew back, leaving a strand of saliva connecting their lips. Her pupils were blown wide.

Kate was sure they were a mirror to her own.

“Nadia,” Kate breathed, irked at the kiss being cut short.

“Hmmm?” Nadia replied, undisturbed. Instead, she brought her hand to Kate’s face and let her thumb snag on her bottom lip, dragging it down and opening her mouth. Kate gently nipped at the pad of her thumb, desperate, and Nadia chuckled. The sound was low and sultry in the quiet of the office.

“Patience, beautiful. I will give you all you want; you know this.”

Kate rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything back, Nadia had slipped her index and middle fingers into her mouth.

“Since when have I ever left you unsatisfied, my wife?”

There was a slight husky tone to Nadia's voice as those blue eyes darkened and narrowed up on her wife.

Kate hollowed out her cheeks on instinct to suck on Nadia's digits, and she felt her shudder in response. Nadia's fingers slid deeper and deeper until her mouth was full, her lips stretched wide around the girth, and she felt herself on the precipice of gagging, but Kate pushed the urge down to hold Nadia's hungry gaze.

“How are you close already?” Nadia murmured, a mere observation, eyes heavy-lidded and frantic.

Kate let out a muffled whine, tears stinging her eyes. She ground her hips once more to show just how close she was, but Nadia's strong grip stilled her again.

“Well, it does make sense. I am irresistible after all." Nadia's voice was uneven and shuddering, even though she was trying to play it a little cool, but Kate knew her wife too well; she was just as worked up as she was.

All Kate could do was nod helplessly as Nadia tried to pretend she was alright with heat; her panties were soaked, and her inner walls were clamping down over and over again on nothing. She needed more, and Nadia was torturing them both.

Every patch of her skin felt aflame, and she couldn’t go on like this. Not when Nadia seemed so damn intent on torturing her. So, she took hold of Nadia's wrist, looked her straight in the eyes, and bobbed her head to force Nadia's fingers in and out of her mouth.

Nadia let out a strangled noise, halfway between a groan and a whimper. She bit her lip and pulled her fingers out of Kate’s mouth with a loud pop.

“You can come like this, come in your pretty panties for me.” Nadia pleaded, her voice low and wrecked as Kate writhed on top of her.

Kate managed to pin her with a pointed stare, still panting and trying to drag in air after having Nadia's fingers in her mouth; her lips were swollen, painted with her own saliva, and she was trembling.

“Baby …"

Nadia's palm slid over her soaking panties, the lace catching and rubbing against her swollen clit as Kate threw back her head and mewled at the touch. It wasn't enough; she wanted Nadia's mouth, her fingers, something inside her.

“Please … Nadia, love, please … I-I just, I need you"

Kate’s head fell forward, resting in the crook of Nadia's neck, if only to hide the way she was blushing and the tears were clinging to her lashes as she had been reduced to begging so soon.

“You’re gonna get us caught; try and keep quiet, yes, darling?”

Kate whined and nipped at the soft skin along Nadia's throat.

“That’s what makes it good, no?”

The expression that Kate saw on Nadia's face as she drew back was so innocent- too innocent for the request that had left her mouth just seconds before.

Kate groaned, throwing her head back in mock frustration, knowing that Nadia was going to make it as hard as possible for her to keep it down, but she would be damned if they were stopping now. The area was quiet; no one should be around, and honestly, if they wanted to listen, she was too gone to care now.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Kate whispered as she leaned down and kissed her, while adjusting herself so that Nadia's thigh was between her legs. She made sure her knee lodged neatly between the apex of Nadia's thighs. If she was going down, she was taking her wife down with her.

Nadia's throat bobbed.

Kate smiled.

She steadied herself by placing her hands on Nadia's shoulders while Nadia's hands fisted into the pants at her thighs.

Kate guessed she really was going to make this as hard as possible for her. If that was the case, Kate was going to make this as agonising as possible for her too. Carefully, she pulled her own pants down further and kicked them off, and then eased her own hands into her wife's waistband, letting out a low moan as Nadia lifted both her hips and the weight of Kate up enough that she could slide them down enough to get access.

She lowered herself slowly until her wet core was pressed flat against Nadia's thigh. The pressure on her clit made Kate jolt, and she heard Nadia gasp. A sharp intake of air later, Kate was rocking back and forth, leaving a patch of wetness on Nadia's bare thigh. She felt the same cold wetness seep onto her knee.

Kate fucked herself on Nadia's thigh all the while making eye contact with her mean wife. Her jaw was clenched, and she was breathing hard. Occasionally, a small whimper would escape Nadia's mouth. Kate had to stifle her moans and whines as she squirmed. She would be embarrassed if not for the sight in front of her. Nadia looked so pained, so desperate, and it almost made her laugh because it was no one’s fault but her own.

“Holding up okay?”

“Mhm.”

Kate’s thoroughly wet knee said otherwise, but then again, Nadia was never a good liar.

Kate picked up the pace, feeling the rising crescendo of her climax building, but she didn’t want to arrive without Nadia. She stopped grinding and clenched around Nadia's thigh.

Hard.

“Can you just touch me? Nadia, please- I need you to touch me so bad.”

Kate begged. She was not ashamed of it, but she could feel the blush that was creeping down her neck and spreading across the top of her where her breasts were heaving in time with her pants.

It seemed to break Nadia's resolve because the next second her hands were everywhere: palming Kate’s breasts; snaking around her back; crawling up her thighs- it was as if she couldn’t decide where to keep them. Her mouth bruised the space between Kate’s collarbone and neck, her breath tickling the sensitive area, and she licked up the length of her throat, eliciting a loud cry from Kate.

She resumed her grinding, moaning out Nadia's name and begging her to touch her. Which, of course, Nadia did. She would never ignore Kate when she begged. Instead, she braced her hands around Kate's waist and lifted her off her knee. With gentle pressure, she laid her out on the sofa and knelt so she was on the floor between those lush thighs. Strong, firm pressure guided Kate to lie back and open her legs so Nadia could pull her to the edge; this gave her the easiest access as she trailed a hand down to the hot, wet curls.

The soft, silky curls parted under her fingers as she dipped them inside the wet, glistening folds. The sweet, needy whines were music to her ears as she lowered her mouth to suckle on the sweet, swollen clit. Nadia swirled her tongue around the sensitive nub as Kate arched her hips and tightened her glorious thighs around her shoulders and neck with each firm pull of her mouth.

Nadia could feel the way those thighs trembled and reflexively got tighter as Kate was wound higher and higher. The sharp tug on her own hair sent sparks down her spine as she eased her fingers down and teased them around the soaking wet entrance that was spasming in time with her mouth. Kate moaned and keened softly as Nadia slipped one finger in and pressed it deep. The soft, velvet walls gave way instantly, and Kate rocked down and tried to press herself tighter to both Nadia’s mouth and her fingers.

“Ohhh … please …. More”

Nadia lifted her head and looked up through her lashes. There was that pretty, telling flush across her wife’s cheeks that told her she was close.

“Shush … easy, my love, I’ve got you.”

Then she went back to lavishing attention on that lovely sweet bud, but she did give in a little and pressed a second finger inside that tight, wet heat. In time with the pulls of her mouth on the dripping, pink clit, Nadia pumped her fingers until Kate was writhing and squirming against her mouth and hand. The stifled cries and yowls rose as she drew her closer and closer to the edge of climax.

Kate was at the very precipice, and she reached down and took Nadia's face in her hand to bring her up and press their foreheads together as the violence of her orgasm ripped through her. Nadia's arms wrapped tightly around her, bringing Kate impossibly close. It felt almost like she was trying to fuse them as she panted into her open mouth and rutted into Kate’s knee until she came to a chorus of breathless declarations of love.

They had barely caught their breath when Nadia kissed her and murmured silkily into her ear.

“Round two at home?”

Kate looked at her; her eyes still hazy and blurred with the tears from her orgasm. This woman was insatiable sometimes, if felt like not even seconds after they had reached their climax, but she was hers, and Kate loved her, so fucking much. She was also, in Kate's opinion, the hottest thing to walk on two legs; so her answer was a given, really.

“Fuck yes."

 

---

They were at least at home, in their own bed, for the next round. Kate’s head dangled off the side of the bed, and she heard the wet, lewd sounds of Nadia's fingers plunging into her soaking body. Her other hand rubbed slow, tantalising circles on her clit.

From the mirror, she saw Nadia's eyes zeroed in on the place where they were connected. Her mouth was open almost as if she was panting, with the way her bare chest heaved up and down. High, breathy moans tangled with the wanton whines escaping Kate’s own mouth. The sight made her clench hard, and she felt herself spilling even more come around Nadia's fingers and down her thighs.

She didn’t know how that was possible. The sheets were already drenched by the mess she was making.

The noise Nadia made in return was half-animalistic, and she picked up the pace with her fingers.

“I … It’s like- you’re just sucking me in … all by yourself. So fucking eager”

The words were whispered out in utter worship as Nadia watched her with a hungry, greedy gaze.

Kate could only utter expletives, expletives, and Nadia's name. She chanted it as if it were the only prayer she knew.

“Nadia, s … so good. Fuck!”

Kate moaned out as she felt the knot of pleasure build at her apex.

Nadia chuckled wickedly as she pressed the heel of her palm down against Kate’s navel and simultaneously curled her fingers inside Kate’s tight, velvet walls. Kate cried out, and her hips shot up, overwhelmed by the rolling static of pleasure that assaulted the entirety of her body. Every sound but the heavy thump of her heart was drowned out as white spots coloured the periphery of her vision. Her mouth hung open in a perfect O, and her hips moved of their own accord, thrusting into Nadia’s fingers as she rode out the seemingly never-ending wave of euphoria. She drenched the sheets again, and she was sure she had squirted all over Nadia's arm and thigh, but she couldn’t see her. She was completely spent, and her eyes were screwed shut, and she was drifting.

Vaguely, she sensed Nadia slipping her fingers out and positioning herself above her writhing body, one leg by her torso and the other between her legs. A hand kneaded at her breast, pinching and pebbling her nipple, and another spread her legs wide open. She was met with Nadia's dripping folds sliding against her own, warm and deliciously wet. Their come mixed together as it coated the inside of Kate’s thighs while Nadia rolled her hips into Kate.

The shockwaves of pleasure buoyed through her body each time Nadia's clit brushed her own. The friction on her puffy bud fanned the dying sparks of sharp pleasure into a raging tidal wave of ecstasy once more, painfully close to cresting but not quite. Kate held it at bay, wanting to share the moment with her perfect, gorgeous wife. Her hand slipped from the sheets she had been gripping and palmed Nadia's hand over her breast.

Nadia instantly clasped their hands together despite being lost in the act of riding Kate out, grinding her hips back and forth in an unsteady rhythm. The bed creaked as Nadia rolled her hips, caressing her clit and folds against Kate’s, and she muttered illegible curse words.

Kate hardly felt real. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as full and warm as she did then. No matter that holding her climax felt almost painful, the warmth of their hands against her chest as they performed the most intimate act of vulnerability made the experience almost transcendental- of another plane of existence. Or maybe that was the overstimulation talking. But Kate was sure of one thing.

It was the only thing she was sure of.

“I love you.” Kate declared with all the conviction she could muster in her pathetic state, eyes only on Nadia.

It was all it took for Nadia's pinnacle to take full force. She threw her head back and all but growled Kate’s name, and Kate finally let the tidal wave take over her body, shuddering all over. Nadia's body fell limp next to Kate’s, and she brought their clasped hands to her lips to place a tender kiss across Kate’s knuckles.

“I love you, too.”

The whispered words were breathed over their hands in an exhale as Nadia turned over and gathered Kate close to her body. Their naked, silk skin warm and pressed together as Kate tilted her head up and kissed her wife, tender and soft as they slowly calmed.

Nadia would move in a moment; they needed a bath, and the sheets needed changing, but they would do that together once they were clean. But these precious few moments, here, in the safety of their bed, Nadia would forever bask in the warmth and love they shared. Kate was her soulmate, her best friend and the love of her life, all in one amazingly beautiful, smoking hot package.

She gently hooked her fingers under Kate's chin and eased her head up to kiss her. Nadia nuzzled their mouths together in a sweet, easy pressure as she slipped out of the bed and they turned to lean down and soothe the needy, sad little cry her wife made as she lost the body heat from Nadia being wrapped all around her.

"It's okay, my love, I am just running us a bath. I will be back."

Kate lifted one hand and snaked it around Nadia's neck to pull her back down for another sweet kiss before she was released to pad into their bathroom. They would shower off quickly first, then soak, but Nadia was more than happy to set the bath running as she set the fresh, soft, fluffy towels out to warm. Kate had a preference for baths, and Nadia was more than happy to indulge them both. She reached for the bath salts, the ones they used to ease the soreness out of their muscles after both long shifts at work and then the more athletic sex they had indulged in today. A soft-scented oil that made the water nice and silky, then the final touch: a small rose-shaped sizzle bomb was dropped in to add the bubbles to the bath.

Nadia took the lids off their candles that were positioned around the room in the bathroom and carefully pulled out the lighter from the tiny drawer in the counter to flick them to life. The lights were already dimmed to a lovely soft glow, which made her smile, content and pleased as she headed back for her wife.

Who was still sprawled boneless where she had left her, Nadia stepped up to the bed and carefully slid one arm under the warm shoulders and back of her smaller wife's knees to scoop her up into her arms, since apparently she had fucked all the ability to stand and walk out of her. Kate snuggled close but did find the energy to murmur into her neck.

"Oh, stop looking so smug."

Nadia chuckled lowly and pressed a kiss to those damp curls as she set Kate down in the shower, the water warm and running. They washed each other with soft, familiar hands, only really working to wash the mess away. Nadia kept a hand steady at Kate's sweet waist to help keep her upright until she eased them both into the bath with a sigh of bliss at the heat of the water.

Kate nestled between her longer legs as they lay there and enjoyed the heat and the tender caress as they each washed the other. Nadia lay back and let Kate lavish attention on her as she drifted for a bit; they were both tired, and Kate was soon ushering them both out and wrapping Nadia in the larger towel as she began to run the mousse they both used for their curls into her wife's beautiful hair. Nadia stayed sitting on the edge of the tub so Kate could reach, and as she let her pamper her, she ran her hands over the lovely, pretty curves to help dry her, since they both were tired now.

If the sheets were any less soaked, Nadia would be half tempted to leave them and just crawl into bed; however, by the cute nose wrinkle that Kate was giving the mess, that wasn't happening. With a sigh, they quickly stripped the bed and threw new sheets on; by the time they were done, Nadia flopped down with a heavy sigh as she watched Kate flutter around for a few moments until she had had enough.

"Come here, darling."

Nadia reached out a strong hand and tugged her smaller wife down to lie atop her; the warm, familiar weight settled on Nadia quicker than anything ever had before meeting this wonderful creature.

"Sleep now, fuss later, my love."

Kate huffed but was instantly settling into those strong arms. Nadia pressed a kiss into her throat and hummed softly when Kate pulled the duvet up over them both and closed her beautiful hazel eyes. She wasn't far behind as they both drifted off to sleep; the low purr heralded the appearance of their cat as she stalked into the room and padded across them to curl up in the space by her head, meaning the house was all settling down to sleep now. The purring got louder and more rhythmic as they all succumbed to sleep.

 

---

 

Ilya cradled Shane to his chest. He could kill Yuna Hollander right now. It was not a nice thought, but honestly, Ilya was just a little heartbroken for his beautiful mate. Shane's broad shoulders were shaking ever so slightly, and he was buried into Ilya's chest. He carded his fingers through the silky, thick hair and held his mate close.

He knew that Shane was hurt, far more than he had let himself feel at what his mother had done, and it wasn't the fact she had lied, or even kept his status hidden from the public.

Ilya was well aware that it wasn't really any of that; it was the fact that she hadn't told Shane, had not warned him, hadn't allowed him to prepare at all for the possibility. Since Ilya knew as well as Shane did that Yuna fucking Hollander would have done exactly the same as Shane had done- she would research, she would find every scrap of information that she could. Then, knowing one of the only proven things about Carriers was that they were biologically born Gay, she had pushed him towards Landry, not just gently either; from what Shane had told him, she had been aggressive and forceful with it.

It wasn't just the emotional hurt from this, though; Shane had been close to his parents, both of them, or at least he had been for the entirety of the years that Ilya had known him. They had even been sitting in the stands with him the first time they had made eye contact as such young, naïve 17-year-olds.

Shane had let bits slip over the last year or so: the frustration, the growing conflict between them as he and his mother clashed more and more. Then the way she had pushed, bullied him, really, to try and get him back with Rose. Which was even more of a betrayal now, because she had done that, tried to force her only child into a relationship that she knew he could never be happy in.

Gently, he rubbed his hand across Shane's back as the tears eased off; this was most likely the crash of the stress of last night and now today. It had, after all, been a lot to deal with. The fear, the raw, visceral panic that spread through Ilya's veins last night and then again earlier, at the blood, the pain that Shane had felt- it was almost impossible to put it into words. Instead, he soothed Shane with his touch, his presence, and by continuously flooding their combined mindscape with all the love, warmth and affection he could.

The gold glitter in his frozen lake had brightened a little by the time Ilya managed to coax Shane out from his neck with his hands cupped around that lovely jaw. Slightly red-rimmed, chocolate eyes blinked sensually up at him as Shane nuzzled his cheek against Ilya's, his tears finally replaced by the very low, quiet start of that husky purr.

Ilya smiled softly at the sound; gold flecks danced along Shane's hair and skin as the bond hummed softly between them.

"There you are, Lyubimyy. No more tears now; my fragile heart can't take it."

Shane sniffled softly and gave him a tiny smile, which Ilya just had to press a kiss to; he nuzzled their mouths together in a tender caress.

"Your heart is not fragile, Ilyusha; not one bit of you is."

Ilya chuckled lowly at that, the tiny little kitten hiss in Shane's response. He stroked his thumb under Shane's jaw and tilted his head a little more; this time, when he kissed him, it was not a soft, sweet caress. Ilya sealed their mouths together as he sank his teeth into that full, plush lip and felt Shane open for him.

The bond glowed brighter around them as Ilya forced Shane's mouth to open and drove his tongue in to taste the unique, addicting flavour that was his mate's sweet mouth.

Heat was curling up between them as Ilya lapped at Shane's tongue, his hands snaked up the hoodie to settle at those ample hips as Ilya lifted Shane slightly to reposition his mate over his lap and that deliciously heavy weight right over his rapidly rising cock. Shane squirmed and mewled softly as Ilya lifted him; the sparks of pleasure flickered in the bright golden glow that was covering Shane in an ethereal glow.

Ilya let out a growl as he took in the vision on his lap. Shane's lips were red and looked freshly kissed; his lovely tanned skin was flushed with that gorgeous, pink blush that enhanced every single fucking freckle.

He carefully pulled the hoodie off and had to pause to look at his mate again when he took in the sight of him in one of his Bear's T-shirts. It was a size or two too large, but Ilya bunched the fabric at the base of Shane's back for a moment, and the soft, black material tightened across that little hidden curve. With the way that Shane was sitting, the roundness was more visible, and it made the bond spark up in delight as Ilya felt his blood heat and his cock made its way to full hardness.

A large, warm palm cupped the curve as Ilya slid his other hand up into the hair at the back of Shane's neck to guide him down for another kiss. Ilya tilted his head to the side as Shane traced his mouth down the thick line of muscle in his neck; teeth scraped across a sensitive spot as Ilya groaned when he felt the sting of Shane's canine teeth as they bit a little harder. Ilya moved his hand from the curve of Shane's belly to dig his fingers into the muscle at his hip to still the movement of his hips, or Ilya was going to break his promise before it had even been a day.

"Shane … sweetheart …"

There was a flicker in Shane's lake as the liquid gold coiled up and over the edge for a brief second, but Ilya was quick to soothe him with a gentler kiss before he continued.

"Nyet, Lyubimyy, I am not saying stop."

Shane hissed, his very visibly sharper teeth bared at Ilya as those powerful thighs clamped down around him, but as much as Ilya would love to let Shane demand he ignore Dr Henderson's advice, he would not let his all too tempting mate seduce him; from the way the frozen lake had darkened, and Ilya's own snake was writhing through the air above the angry-looking molten gold, this was the bond at play. Since they were both aware that Dr Nadia Henderson had not been joking and Ilya had absolutely no desire to have his dick numbed, thank you very fucking much.

 

Instead, he was going to have to get a little bit creative. Ilya gathered Shane into his chest and hooked his huge palms under those glorious thighs. Shane, having already sensed through the bond what Ilya was up to, wrapped his legs around his waist and his arms around Ilya's neck with a throaty purr as Ilya stood with Shane in his arms. He carried his mate through to their bedroom and lowered him to the bed. Shane braced himself on his arms as he watched Ilya with half-lidded, heated golden eyes.

Ilya brushed their lips together as he knelt to pull Shane's pants and the soft, plain cotton boxers that were still shaped to cradle that little curve rather than dig in. Ilya was very glad his mate had found some he was comfortable in, even if he did lament the fact that most of them were not lace. Still, they framed his pretty cock nicely and drew the eye to where their baby was still safely nestled under those strong, capable muscles.

Ilya followed the path of those boxers with his mouth as he kissed and licked at the inside of each thigh. While he wasn't allowed to fuck his beautiful mate, there was no reason he couldn't worship him, and if Ilya had more than a few ideas of how to get Shane off without him being inside, well, that was for him to know, and Shane would just have to wait and see.

He opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the inner thigh where there was a fading bite mark that Ilya liked to keep fresh, as he pulled the skin into his mouth and sucked. Shane keened and dropped his head back, one strong hand instantly diving deep into his curls, and he could feel the way that Shane tugged at them in time with each stronger suck. As Ilya nosed his way up, he paused to run his tongue along the hot, heavy underside of Shane's erect cock, the head was a lovely pink and beads of pearly pre-come were already decorating the head.

Shane arched his hips up, and Ilya pinned them down with a hand as he gave the pretty cock another full-length lick. He groaned in delight at the still sweeter tang of Shane's pre-come and carefully lapped up every drop before he moved over to the other thigh and proceeded to make a nice, matching bite mark to mirror the first.

"Ilya … Ilyusha …"

Those fingers tightened in his hair as Ilya kneaded at the plush muscle under his hands and sat back. He eyed his mate through his lashes as gold ringed his vision. He was still in control at the moment, but the more the bond activated, the harder it would be not to open his very willing, very sexy mate and bury his cock inside that beautiful ass. Ilya cast his mind into their shared mindscape and nudged at his snake; the beast gave him a soft nudge, but the gold dimmed back from the edge of his vision, and he felt more in control.

Now he felt more stable. Ilya settled into his stance and went back to licking at the sweet nectar that was leaking from the slit in Shane's lovely cock. The more he swiped his tongue along the head, the more sweet reward he was given. Shane was trembling; his thighs quivered as Ilya slid his hand under the right one and lifted it over his shoulder, and then Ilya wrapped his lips around the red, wet head of Shane's cock. He had been ready for the needy, desperate whine that Shane let out as Ilya took in his length. Slowly at first, he took his time, pinned Shane's hips down with his own heavier bulk as his mate tried to arch up into him.

"Nyet, sweetheart, lay back, let me work. Okay?"

He pulled back to growl out the low command as Shane tried to tug him up by his curls, but Ilya was not having it; instead, he reached up and carefully untangled those flexing claws from his scalp, and he guided those strong hands around his shoulder and neck instead, giving Shane something to hold on to as hr went back to work on Shane's pretty, sweet cock.

Ilya took the wet, leaking head back into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it as he relaxed his throat and eased the heavy, silken weight down the root. Ilya loved the feeling of Shane on his tongue; this new subtle shift in his flavour just heightened Ilya's pleasure in swallowing every drop that he could milk out of his mate.

Shane's claws flexed into his skin as Ilya began a slow, steady pace along the length of his cock, he had to stop himself from reaching back and teasing at that beautiful, perfect ring of muscle that was already twitching and fluttering under his attentions. Instead, he rolled and massaged the soft, velvet balls that hung heavy and full, the skin warm and smooth under his fingers as he felt Shane arch his hips and let out a high keen at the sudden touch.

"Ilya … fuck…"

The way Shane tightened his thigh around Ilya's neck had him letting out a low groan; Shane's thighs were so thick, so plush with muscle that Ilya would gladly let his mate crush him and it would still make him want to throw the smaller man down and fuck him till he couldn't stand the next day.

From the way that Shane was mewling, grinding his hips up into Ilya's throat, and his cock was pulsing in Ilya's mouth, he knew his mate was close. He took his hand away from his balls and reached slightly up to press his palm to the width of the soft curve that was where their baby lay, tiny, curled and safe.

Gold sparks chased his touch as Shane was suddenly gripping tightly at Ilya's shoulder with his thigh and dropping back onto the bed as his cock throbbed onto and Ilya drank down every drop that Shane gave him. The taste was heady, and it made Ilya have to reach down and wrap a hand around the base of his own cock to tamp down on his own arousal; he wasn't done with his mate yet.

Carefully, he pulled off, lapping and licking the entire length of Shane's cock as he did so, making sure that he had gotten every last drop. As he stood, he ran a hand down the plush, silken thigh that was over his shoulder. He slowly lowered the trembling leg and leaned over his panting mate. Shane had thrown the arm that had not been dug into his shoulder up to cover his glowing golden eyes.

The movements drew Ilya's gaze to those large, strong biceps as Shane flexed the arm when he felt Ilya leaning down over him. Stunning. Ilya really had gotten the best of everything; Shane was both so fucking strong, his body solid, muscular and yet still softer than his own, and his mate was the prettiest thing Ilya had ever seen, man or woman. And he was all Ilya's.

"Look at you, Lyubimyy. So beautiful."

That lovely, petal-soft blush spread across those perfectly freckled cheeks as Ilya leaned down and kissed him; he nuzzled their mouths together, not trying to deepen it, not yet, even if his own vision was still edged with gold and his cock was still hard and pressed up thick and heavy against his cut abs.

Shane's claws silently sheathed as Ilya felt his warm, strong hand trail down his chest; a finger traced around his nipples, which sent little tiny sparks of pleasure down his spine as Shane kneaded and dug the tips of his claws into Ilya's pecs. He shuddered out a low growl when Shane's hand wrapped around his thick, aching cock. For a moment Ilya thought his mate would be satisfied with just this; he certainly was close enough that it would be plenty, but as the fingers teased up and down the sensitive length, Ilya couldn't keep the needy groan that slipped from his lips as Shane pulled away.

"Nyet … sweetheart… come back … please."

Shane let out a husky purr but sat up, and instead he raised himself on his hands and knees till he was prowling towards where Ilya was standing at the end of the bed. Ilya reached out and sank his hand into that soft, sleek hair as Shane nuzzled his face into Ilya's hard, now dripping cock.

"Fuck …"

He dropped his head to his chest and heaved a breath in as Shane lapped at his thighs, rubbing his face all along the length of Ilya's now aching cock. He had to tighten his hand into Shane's hair to ground himself as his mate nipped and sucked bruises into the inner lines of his pale thighs. He was alternating between each thigh and Ilya's cock, rubbing his face into Ilya's core and his mouth on every inch that he could reach. Ilya was already panting, and gold was glimmering all around them as Shane covered himself in Ilya's hot, wet pre-come.

"Shane … Fuck, you are so hot like this."

Those chocolate eyes were fully gold, and as he looked up at Ilya through thick, sooty lashes, his pretty, petty face was wet with Ilya's pre-come. He snarled and dropped his head back for a moment; Ilya had to close his eyes and fight for his own control. The way Shane looked right now, he was absolutely desperate to wrap his hands around that lovely waist and turn his mate over, spread that perfect ass and sink his cock inside as deep as he could, but he refused to hurt Shane. Even as the bond gave an annoyed twitch when he pulled back, when he hauled his desire back in and re-centred himself.

Shane's lake gave a shiver, and inside the grooves cut into the ice, the molten gold river gave a sudden leap until it splashed up against the underbelly of the huge snake above it. Ilya half-watched as his serpent dropped his head and allowed the little splashes to coat his massive head; at once, some of the heavy, frantic edge settled as the bond calmed.

Ilya let out a deep sigh and eased his fingers into less of a death grip on Shane's hair; it seemed that Shane had sensed the rising irritation from Ilya's side, and since logically they both knew that they couldn't let the bond get a grip on them like before, no matter how much they both wanted it. Shane had, of course, worked out how to calm his end while keeping his own in check.

By now his cock was leaking a steady little stream of liquid, and Shane finally opened those pretty lips and let Ilya feed the burning hot length of his erection into that tantalising throat. Ilya was out of patience now, and he dropped a hand to circle the stretched, muscular neck and gave a squeeze to warn Shane that he was at his limit.

The deep, husky purr sent delicious vibrations up his cock as Shane settled himself and took Ilya deeper. Fuck. Shane was so good at this now that Ilya knew he was done. By the time Shane's throat was visibly taut around his thick girth, and there was a little trickle of escaped saliva down his chin as his lips were stretched wide to accommodate him, Ilya was barely able to thrust his hips a few deep, rolling grinds before he was emptying himself into Shane's willing mouth.

His cock throbbed and pulsed as Shane gagged slightly on the sheer flood of warm rivulets of come that Ilya was emptying into his mate's mouth, which only made Ilya rasp out a low moan and come a little more at the sight. His cock was almost painful as it tried to paint more of his claim inside his mate. He stroked his fingers down the quivering line of Shane's neck as he slowly pulled his softening cock out of that hot, used mouth. Shane whined softly, but Ilya wrapped his arms around his mate and turned them so he pulled the smaller man into his lap.

 

Golden sparks chased his fingers as Ilya drew light, sweet circles into the little curve of Shane's belly; the bond glowed even brighter, but with less intensity now that the edge had been taken off. It had achieved what Ilya had been after, and Shane had managed to pull them back from becoming bond drunk again, for which Ilya was grateful. With a gentle nudge, Ilya got Shane to lean his head back onto his shoulder so he could look at his mate's devastatingly pretty face as he rubbed his thumb across the swell of their baby.

Shane's purr stuttered into life as he melted into the touch; Ilya felt his own rumble to life in his chest in response. He still wasn't quite used to being able to make such a noise, but he had to admit the two very different cadences were very soothing together, making the bond vibrate in utter bliss on both ends. Ilya nestled his face into Shane's hair and inhaled deep breaths of his shampoo and the underlying scent that was all his Shane as he let his heartbeat calm back down.

"Are you alright, Lyubimyy?

The purr got louder, and Shane pressed his lips to Ilya's collarbone when he turned his head slightly; Ilya automatically lifted his chin so Shane had more access, even as he closed his eyes in both pleasure and tiredness. The events of the day were already catching up to them both, and there was something that Jon had said that was bothering Ilya; he just wasn't sure if Shane was going to be up to thinking about it. Now was his best bet, when his mate was soft, sated and sleepy in his arms.

"Yes, Ilyusha. I am okay."

Ilya adjusted them so that Shane was draped over him as he lay back down against the pillows. He let Shane shift until his belly was pressed in, safe and snug between them as his mate nuzzled down into Ilya's chest. Their purring was mingling in a low, pleasant rumble through the bedroom.

Ilya could see that everything was bathed in gold as the bond thrummed happily in his head. His serpent was coiled lazily in the forming pool at the very centre of Shane's ice; and if Ilya was looking at it correctly, then that large, deep pool would soon be big enough for his serpent to submerge itself under the liquid gold.

He let his hands wander up the broad, muscled expanse of Shane's back and ass as they lay for a few minutes. Ilya had honestly half drifted into sleep when he remembered he was going to ask Shane about that particular comment Jon had made. For a brief moment, he almost left it; Ilya almost let the deep, husky purr lull him into sleep, but this mattered. They didn't know how long Shane would carry for, but even assuming that 6 to 7 months was the minimum, they were running out of time.

"Shane, sweetheart?"

Sleepy chocolate eyes flickered open and looked up at him from where Shane was using his chest as a pillow, a silent question in the bond.

"Do you think Jon was right about your father?"

For just a moment, Shane froze; Ilya felt the sudden tension and lamented the hitch in that lovely purr, but then he gently hooked a finger under Shane's chin and brought him up so Ilya could kiss him. As Ilya captured those soft, sweet lips, he nuzzled their mouths together, over and over again in a gentle caress. With each brush of his lips, he felt Shane relax a little more against him again, but he didn't push; instead, he let Shane think.

He was pretty sure that Jon was correct, but Shane needed to decide. Ilya would respect whatever choice Shane made; if it came down to it, he would quit and let Shane go back after the baby was born, if that was what his mate really wanted.

"Can you pass my phone, please, Ilyusha?"

Ilya smiled softly and reached over to the nightstand, plucked up Shane's discarded phone, and passed it to his mate. Shane lifted one arm and crossed it over Ilya's broad chest to type. Before he hit send, worried, pain-filled chocolate eyes lifted back to his own, and he turned the phone around to show Ilya the message he typed out.

 

Shane ➡️ Dad, please can we meet and talk? I really hope I don't have to explain why I am saying this, and I hope you really didn't know, but please come alone.

 

Dad ➡️ Shane, thank god, just tell me when and where; I will be there. I swear to you, Shane, son, I didn't know. Please, I will come alone; just tell me that you are alright. I love you …

 

As Ilya passed the phone back, he swiped his thumb under Shane's eye as the tear slipped out; it broke Ilya's heart, but he was pleased with the response from David Hollander. His chest rumbled with a low purr as he pulled Shane more fully onto him and rolled them so he was spooned up behind his mate and able to wrap his arms around him more fully and pull him as close to his body as possible. The bond thrummed, and Shane burrowed into his embrace as Shane's lake swirled and twisted in both sadness and agitation.

"Well done, Shane. I am so proud of you, sweetheart."

Shane kissed him; Ilya let his mate lead as he settled them down, the tiny curve of their baby pressed safely between them as Ilya let Shane close his eyes. The bond glowed softly as Ilya buried his face in Shane's hair; he sent a silent prayer up to his Mama that David Hollander was telling the truth, and Shane wasn't about to lose both his parents, but for now, all Ilya could do was hold his mate close and support him.

"Ya tebya lyublyu"

He felt Shane shift and murmur against his skin.

"I love you too."