Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova, Troy Barrett, Harris Drover, Ottawa Centaurs Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Original Characters

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Happy Ending, Top Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Shane Hollander, Dom/sub, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Shane Hollander Has a Praise Kink, Dom Ilya Rozanov, Sub Shane Hollander, Kitten Shane Hollander, Subspace, Safewords, Pet Play, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov is Whipped For Shane Hollander, Collars, Shane Hollander in Subspace, Anxious Shane Hollander, Panic Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Control Issues, Good Boy Shane Hollander, Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Kitten space, Autistic Shane Hollander, Fluff and Angst, nonsexual bdsm, Non-Sexual Submission, Total Power Exchange, Financial Domination, Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), aftermath of traumatic event, Ottawa Centaurs as Family (Game Changers), Humiliation Kink, Degradation Kink, Anal Sex, Rimming, Light Bondage, Shaving, Cock Cages, clicker training, bottom prep, minor elements of group play, Biting Kink, Wedding Planning, Vibrators, Anal Plug, Domspace, Jealous Shane Hollander, Cock Warming, A/B/O Roleplay, Hurt/Comfort, Temperature Play, Blindfolds, Wax Play, Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, Ilya Rozanov in Domdrop, Shane Hollander in Subdrop, Internalized Homophobia, Objectification, Snow Leopard Hybrid Shane Hollander, Predator/Prey

Language:

English

Series:

Part 2 of kitten shane series

Collections:

The Best of the Best According to Tabitha (HR)

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-14 Updated: 2026-10-25 Words: 317,898 Chapters: 11/?

is just a plan to fuck forever

Summary

It turned out the hockey season was a lot more hectic with a full social life in the BDSM club scene and a fiancé who he could never quite escape from. Not to mention wedding planning? God, Shane was in over his head. All he wanted to do was shut his mind off and be a kitty.

sequel to 'is just ten year plan to fuck'

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

This is a sequel to the first installment of the kitten shane series: is just ten year plan to fuck. I highly recommend reading that before starting this one!

Friendly reminder that this is a work of fiction! It is not meant to inform anyone of how to participate safely in BDSM scenes/arrangements, nor is it meant to provide an accurate representation of how typical BDSM scenes/arrangements would play out. I am not an expert. This is purely for entertainment purposes. Enjoy!

Given the accusations in this fandom recently, I can't believe I have to say this, but this work is 100% written by a living, breathing human!!! I spend hours upon hours of my time writing, researching, and editing to bring this story to life, for no reason other than the fact that I love doing it. Please do not insult me by accusing my work of being AI-generated.

Please do not translate or post this fic anywhere else without my permission. Just leave a comment if you would like to translate it and I will happily reply!

also my twitter is @sluthollanov if anyone wants to be moots :) will follow back if you post only hudcon/hollanov

“Oh my god,” Rose screams at the top of her lungs, so much so that Shane has to wince and pull the phone back from his face. “I can’t believe it. You’re engaged!”

Shane just grins at her expression. They’re on FaceTime while Rose is sitting in the makeup chair getting painted blue. She looks ridiculous, but Shane is used to seeing her in costume, given how constant the reshoots have been. There are times when he despises his job—although not as often as he used to—but he absolutely does not envy Rose for what she has to put up with on a daily basis.

“He is not!” Ilya calls from somewhere in the kitchen, and Shane rolls his eyes.

“Ignore him. He’s being ridiculous.” Shane shakes his head.

“I am not being ridiculous,” Ilya frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he steps into the room, standing behind the couch to peer at Shane’s phone over his shoulder. “I told you I would entertain your little proposal, but mark my words, it is not going to count as our real proposal. We are not engaged until I have gotten down on one knee and professed my undying love to you.”

“Oh my goodness. Is that the ring on his necklace? Shane,” Rose coos excitedly. “You did so, so well. Ilya, hold it up to the camera. I want to see!”

“Thanks. My mom helped me pick it out,” Shane says proudly as he turns to beckon Ilya closer. Ilya, who is just standing there angrily like a grumpy toddler. “Ilya,” he deadpans. “Can you get over here already? Show her the ring.”

Ilya stands there glaring for a few seconds before he huffs and finally leans in to hold the ring up to Shane’s phone.

“Wait, hold up.” Rose’s eyes go wide. Shane can see one of her blue hands in frame like she’s paused in the middle of a thought. “Is that a tattoo?”

Shane blushes at the sight of Ilya’s new ink on the screen, his palm slightly turned out from where he’s holding the chain of the necklace.

“Ah, yes,” Ilya agrees, looking down at himself before holding his hand up for her to see. He twists his wrist after a moment to show her the other side.

“Ilya. Your mother’s necklace. Oh my god, that is just stunning. You guys.” Rose fans at her face, and Shane feels his heart warm in his chest. “You’re gonna make me cry. That is seriously so sweet.”

“No crying.” Shane hears Rose’s makeup artist tell her warningly, and it pulls a wet laugh out of him.

“Yes. Is becoming quite a mess for me with hockey. I have to be very careful with it,” Ilya sighs, surveying the tattoo in consideration.

That was true. Ilya had been complaining about the washing and taping, but there was really no reason to, since Shane often did a lot of the work for him. After some research, he’d found out that hand tattoos were extremely sensitive and very at risk of getting infected, or even worse, messed up. So, Shane had taken it upon himself to handle the meticulous cleaning routine. He was not going to let Ilya fuck up this tattoo before it had even healed properly.

“Are you guys excited for the club opening? How’s it looking so far?” Rose chimes in.

Shane sighs heavily. “I wish you were coming tonight. It’s going to be a mess having the team there.”

Rose’s eyebrows pinch in confusion, and Ilya snorts.

“He is just upset he can’t go into full kitty mode tonight.”

Shane glares at him before turning back to Rose. “It would’ve been nice to have at least one person who knows, okay? What if I start slipping?”

“You are doing much better at staying up when you need to, котенок.” Ilya rubs over his shoulder, and Shane huffs, but he can’t help leaning into the physical touch.

“I thought you told one of your teammates.” Rose tilts her head in confusion.

Shane blushes as Ilya smirks and gives his shoulder a little shake.

“Ah, yes. Shane is desperate to show Troy all the ins and outs of being a good little sub. He is hoping to have a new puppy to play with.”

“Shut up,” Shane grumbles back, shoving at Ilya’s hand to get it off of him.

He was right, though. Deep down, Shane was really hoping that pet play was something Troy might be into eventually. Or at least interested in trying like Ivan was. But Ivan had years and years of experience, whereas Troy didn’t know anything yet. Troy didn’t even really have a Dom, even though Shane and Ilya were both gunning for him and Harris to get together. But Troy was shy, and Harris was a little too gentle about his approach. Shane could tell they were going to need another push, and he really hoped the club opening would be the thing to get them there. Either way, he didn’t have high hopes that he’d be playing with Troy anytime soon. He would just have to hold out until this weekend, when Ivan and Cedric would be in town for their playdate.

“Well, I’m going to come out and see it soon!” Rose reassures them. “As soon as I can get away from this insane filming schedule. Plus, I still haven’t seen the house or the playroom yet! But how is the club? I’m sure it looks amazing from what Svetlana’s said.”

Shane turns sharply to look at Ilya, finding the other looking down at him with expectant eyebrows that say, Yes, can I help you?

“Rose gets to know about the club, but I don’t?” He demands.

“It is a surprise, моя любовь. It is something that people do when they want to get a big reaction in the moment, hm? Like you did with your little proposal stunt.”

Shane narrows his eyes in annoyance before turning back to Rose.

“Oops. Trouble in paradise,” she laughs. “Sorry, guys. Anyway, let me know if you need my help with any of the details for the wedding. One of the girls just got married recently, and she was raving on and on about the planner they used. I can totally get you her number.”

Shane feels his lips turn up at that. “Yes, please. I have no idea what I’m doing,” he laughs. “I feel like it’s going to be really overwhelming with the hockey season, but we have to get going as soon as possible. I want to get married in the summer.”

Ilya is looking at him with very furrowed eyebrows through the frame of the FaceTime call.

“Excuse me? There will be no wedding until there is an engagement. And there is no engagement until there is a proposal, which I have not done yet.” Ilya points at his chest.

“Ignore him,” Shane sighs. “We obviously need to get started right away, or all of the good venues will be booked.”

“Agreed,” Rose grins, and her face disappears for a second as she does something on her phone, but she reappears a moment later. “I’m going to have Ida send over all her recommendations. Oh, her wedding was just beautiful, Shane. I cannot wait for yours. Is Hayden going to be your best man?”

“Actually,” Shane admits, flushing slightly. “I was sort of hoping you would be my best man. Or…best woman?” He twists his mouth in dissatisfaction. “We can come up with a better name for it.”

“Oh my god!” Rose squeals. “Shane, I would love to. Are you kidding?”

“Well,” Shane laughs. “I figured you’d be a much bigger help than Hayden would. I mean, you seem to know a lot about this kind of stuff.”

Ilya huffs behind him, but Shane keeps his eyes on Rose.

“I would be honored. I’m creating a Pinterest board for your bachelor party as we speak. I’m spending so many hours in the makeup chair these days, but you’ve given me like the perfect project. Ilya, do you know who your best man is going to be?” Rose asks. “We should probably sync up to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“There is no best man yet because there is no wedding,” Ilya reminds everyone once again. “Because there is no engagement, as there has been no proposal.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “I’ll add you to a group text with my mom. She’s really excited about getting involved. She’s already got a shortlist of wedding contacts put together. We can cross-reference with Ida’s list.”

“Perfect!” Rose gets out excitedly. “I can’t wait to start looking at color palettes. Look, I’ve got to go before my makeup artist kills me for moving around so much, but have an amazing time at the new club tonight. Shane, you’re going to love the theme of it, and Ilya, the name is just genius. Honestly. No notes. I can’t wait to come see it in person.”

When Rose ends the call, Shane turns around to face Ilya fully, his gaze more than a little annoyed.

Ilya just raises his eyebrows, and he actually does say it this time. “Yes? Can I help you, котенок?”

“I just don’t get why you’re telling everyone about the club except for me,” Shane says plainly, the dry irritation clear in his tone.

“Who exactly is everyone? I did not tell Rose anything. I told Svetlana. Seeing as she is part-owner of the club, I think it is important to know where her money is going, yes?” Ilya points out, and Shane frowns at the logic.

Mostly, though, he just wants to see the club. Ilya’s been working on it for ages now, disappearing into his office sometimes, calling Shane in to kneel at his feet and warm his cock. If Ilya has phone calls to make, he’ll force Shane to put on headphones and play ocean wave sounds in his ears to keep him from hearing the conversation. Shane hates how deep a headspace that’s sent him into before.

“Meanwhile, you are going around telling everyone in the entire world that we are engaged when I thought we agreed to wait. Or does my proposal mean nothing to you?”

Shane hadn’t been going around telling the entire world, actually. He’d really only told his parents, who already knew he was planning on asking Ilya, and Rose just now. The team didn’t even know, which Shane found surprising considering they’d played a home game since Ilya had started wearing the ring on his necklace. The game was against Long Island, which was a tough team, and they’d lost 3 – 2, but at least they’d put up a good fight by going into overtime. Shane couldn’t be mad at that, even if they still had a lot of work to do to make it to the playoffs this season.

“Look, you can do your proposal whenever you want, Ilya, but the fact of the matter is we agreed we want to get married. There’s a timeline for these sorts of things. It’s already the end of October, which means we’re less than a year out. If we want a summer wedding, we need to start looking at venues. It’s just business.”

“Just business,” Ilya scoffs. “Our marriage is just business now?”

“You know what I mean,” Shane sighs, although clearly Ilya didn’t know. Probably because he hadn’t done the research like Shane had.

“I am not going to rush my proposal just because you are impatient to get started on planning.”

“And that’s fine,” Shane reiterates, because Ilya was really starting to tick him off at this point. “But, like I said, if we want a summer wedding and a proper honeymoon before next season starts up again, time is actually of the essence here. At some point, all of the wedding venues are going to book up.”

Ilya watches him carefully for a second. “You are lucky the team is coming to the club tonight, because if I had my way, you would be on your hands and knees all evening while the humans do all the talking. I am sick of this attitude, and I expect you to be on your best behavior around the guys. I don’t want to hear any talk about this wedding. Understand?”

Shane frowns. “I can’t even tell Troy?”

“Troy is one of the guys, is he not?” Ilya raises a sharp eyebrow. “Unless you are purposely mishearing me, I do not understand the confusion.”

Shane clamps his mouth shut, but he doesn’t hide the exasperation on his face.

“Attitude. Like I said. Cut it out now or there will be consequences. I am done with this conversation.” And then Ilya walks off.

Shane presses his hands over his eyes momentarily while trying to process the many things running around his brain right now. The club opening tonight, another home game tomorrow, his and Ilya’s Halloween party on Saturday, his playdate with Ivan after their home game on Sunday. And then straight into a travel week where they would hit Buffalo, Boston, and New York. It turned out the hockey season was a lot more hectic with a full social life in the BDSM club scene and a fiancé (boyfriend?) who he could never quite escape from. Not to mention wedding planning? God, Shane was in over his head.

All he wanted to do was shut his mind off and be a kitty, but he wasn’t going to have that tonight. At least he would get to see Troy, and Troy wouldn’t mind treating him extra nice. Troy, who had been texting him all day about the club, asking him questions as if Shane knew a single thing. The only thing he knew was that Ilya would be picking his outfit, and they’d go to see the club a little bit before everyone got there in time for the big friends and family opening.

Shane honestly had no idea who the “friends and family” were. It’s not like his parents were invited, and sure, Svetlana was in town, but who else did that leave? Just the team? Shane feels nervousness burn in his tummy at the way his two worlds were about to collide.

When it’s finally time to start getting ready, Ilya hands him a dark blue, short-sleeve button-up shirt that has a slight shimmer to the fabric. It’s pretty, and in his size, which means Ilya bought it for him. Shane tries not to let his pout show on his face. He figured he’d be in Ilya’s clothes tonight. Ilya notices and slides a hand around his hip as he helps Shane into a pair of black pants that fit comfortably on the inside, but look wet and slick on the outside. Shane holds onto his shoulders and tries not to cry. He hates that they’re fighting.

Well, not fighting, exactly. Shane and Ilya didn’t really fight very often. But sometimes, they did disagree, and Shane didn’t understand why Ilya didn’t want to scream their engagement from the rooftops. Was he really that prideful about proposing himself? Was he really so upset that Shane had beaten him to it?

“You are radiating loud thoughts, моя любовь,” Ilya tells him, like he can read Shane’s mind, as always.

Shane frowns and waits until Ilya stands to his full height before he holds his neck securely. “Why don’t you want to tell people we’re engaged?” Shane asks, his voice quiet.

Ilya’s eyes soften as he pulls Shane a little closer to him. “I do want to tell people we’re engaged.”

“But what?” Shane’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and Ilya lets out a sigh.

“I just…” he pauses, shaking his head for a moment, but Shane ducks a little to meet his gaze. “I wanted to be the one to propose. I know it is stupid, and I know it should not matter, but I have envisioned getting down on one knee for you for as long as I can remember.”

Shane swallows thickly, pressing his fingers through the back of Ilya’s curls.

“I know you said I can still do my proposal, but…if we are telling people we are engaged and planning the wedding, it feels like it does not mean anything. It feels like we are already past it. Already moving forward. I wanted to declare my love for you very loudly…in a way you would remember for the rest of your life.”

“Ilya,” Shane voices lightly. “You do declare your love for me very loudly. And it doesn’t matter if we’re already engaged. Your proposal is still going to mean just as much to me as it would have if you beat me to it. I’m still going to remember it for the rest of my life.”

Ilya scrunches his nose up in frustration, so Shane carefully tips his chin in order to meet his gaze.

“Is this like a Dom thing?” Shane wonders aloud. “You’re upset that I’ve been taking control of this?”

Ilya shuts his eyes momentarily.

Shane lets one of his hands glide down Ilya’s neck and across his strong shoulder. He’s shirtless. He’s beautiful. He’s everything Shane never knew he needed. He fucking loves him. He doesn’t get why Ilya’s upset about him wanting to plan the wedding instead of just being so, so happy that they’re having one.

“I want to worship you. I want to provide for you. To be the strong man who takes care of you, and sweeps you off your feet—”

“You do, you are. I fucking need you. I need you more than anything. And right now, I need you to stop being cold to me and just…be excited. We both said yes to spending the rest of our lives together. I mean, I thought you would be ecstatic. You’ve been wanting this for so long.”

“I am,” Ilya assures him. “Fuck, I am so ecstatic. I just…Jesus. I don’t know. I am feeling very weird about it. Like I am not in control. It feels like I am not a part of it or something.”

Shane buries his face in Ilya’s neck before he can stop himself. It’s killing him to see his owner like this. When all Shane wants is for Ilya to be happy and giddy and calling him a good boy for doing all the research, for wanting to make their wedding as beautiful as possible.

“You are so fucking part of it. I didn’t mean to make you feel excluded. I just wasn’t sure how into this type of stuff you are. Like. The venue, and the flowers, and the cake.”

“Cake?” Ilya pulls back slightly to look at him. “We are allowed to have cake at our wedding? Who are you and what have you done with Shane Hollander?”

Shane just laughs and nuzzles closer, rubbing his face against Ilya’s soft skin. “Course we’re gonna have cake. We’re gonna have everything. I want it to be the best night of our lives. We deserve this, yeah? We’ve been through so much. I just want to have the most magical day where it’s all about us and our love.”

-

Ilya’s heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. Shane is right. There are more important things than who proposed to who. In fact, the most important thing was that Shane wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Forever. How could Ilya be upset for even a single second when that was the case?

“I’m sorry for being stupid,” he admits, rubbing his hand along the skin of Shane’s lower back. “If you want to start planning the wedding, then I think we should. And I will…I will try not to be so controlling about it.”

Shane huffs into his neck and presses his teeth in slightly. “I want you to be in control. You’re the one paying for it, aren’t you?”

And, oh right. Ilya was the one who would be paying for this fantastic event. This very expensive and extravagant display of their love. He feels a newfound fire flare in his belly.

“Mm, yes. So, you are going to have to run everything by me then, aren’t you? You will have to get my approval on everything if you expect me to write you a check.”

He feels Shane smile into his shoulder. “Yes, Alpha.”

That makes Ilya feel a lot better. Shane couldn’t do this on his own. He still needed him. He was just doing what he always did: making a plan to ensure his brilliant vision became a reality. And his vision was to marry Ilya loud and proud in front of all their family and friends.

“Well, then, I expect my kitten to throw us the best wedding of all time. I am going to have to see how you are handling all of your kitten tasks, and then I will have to reward you or punish you depending on how they are executed.”

He’s delighted when he feels Shane shiver in his arms. Tonight was going to be so fucking good. He doesn’t want them to be fighting. Rather, tonight would be all about slowly introducing the boys to their dynamic. Svetlana would be there, of course, and Ilya had a surprise guest coming in early to see Shane as well, but mostly, they would just hang out with their team. Relax after an extremely tough week. They had certainly earned it, and Ilya knew there was so much more to come this weekend before they were back on the road for their next round of away games.

He leaves Shane with a series of kisses pressed across his cheeks, and especially his pretty, pink lips, before disappearing into the closet to put on his own outfit: a sheer, light blue button-up long-sleeve shirt that had smatterings of darker blue and green printed throughout. He had sent out outfit requirements for the boys ahead of time. All blue to match the beautiful décor of his new club. He couldn’t wait to show Shane what he has spent all this time working on. Especially the new playroom.

When it’s time to go, Ilya picks Shane up in his arms and kisses him breathless all the way until they get to the garage. He deposits Shane into the passenger seat of his bright orange Porsche and then places a possessive hand on his thigh as he revs the engine. He knew Shane was upset about not getting to be his full kitten self tonight, but with Troy and Svetlana in attendance, as well as Ilya’s surprise guest, he had a strong feeling that Shane would get to go down at least a little bit. And maybe, just maybe, they could start warming the guys up to the idea of having a team kitty cat.

The club is not too far away, only about a ten-minute drive, which Ilya is grateful for. It would be so fucking nice having a place nearby to host events, even better if Troy and Harris or some of the other guys wanted to get involved. For Shane’s sake, at least, Ilya really hoped he could make that happen for him. Shane desperately needed a community. He needed more subs around to remind him that he really could have the best of both worlds. Troy and Harris. That was the goal. Plus, it would be helpful to have more friends who were in a pairing. Ivan and Cedric were great, but they were two hours away in Montreal, so it didn’t make setting up playdates very easy. Still, they would have their first one this weekend, and Ilya knew Shane was eagerly looking forward to that. They both were.

Ilya watches Shane’s eyes as they pull up to the building that will be their new home away from home. From the outside, it was nothing special, but on the inside, Ilya knew a whole other world awaited them.

Svetlana had done most of the work on the Montreal club, but the Ottawa club, now that was Ilya’s baby. He had spent countless hours working with the interior designers, working with the contractors on the floor plan, shopping for things to make each playroom extra special. The entire club had been made with Shane in mind, and Ilya couldn’t wait to show off the fruits of his labor.

“Drift,” Shane comments, noting the name in blue cursive swooping letters.

Ilya smiles and leans over to press a kiss to his cheek before getting out of the car. He appreciates when Shane doesn’t get out, instead letting Ilya run around to the other side to open his door for him. So, yeah. Maybe Ilya was feeling a little extra needy after Shane’s proposal, a little desperate to reclaim control after his kitten had taken things into his own hands. It’s not that Ilya minded that Shane wanted to propose. Obviously, he was over the moon, but there were certain things that felt like they should fall to him as the man of the house. The Dominant. The provider. Ilya wanted to be in charge of fucking everything. He didn’t want Shane to ever have to stress or think or worry. And this evening, he was committed to claiming some of that control back. Reasserting himself in a way.

Ilya pulls Shane into an intense kiss by his waist, warmth gliding through his body as Shane sinks into his arms and gets a little weak in the knees. Now, that was more like it. Ilya was starting to feel like himself again. In his element. He needed the club to feel sane sometimes. As much as he and Shane had a lifestyle dynamic, there were still so many things that were out of his control. He couldn’t actually expect Shane to check in with him before every single thing he did. Peeing, showering, proposing. But at the club, Ilya could ask those things of him. Ilya could take control fully and completely. He could order Shane to crawl on his hands and knees in a crowded room full of people or request that Shane wear a gag all night until he was drooling and fuzzy in front of everyone. Ilya wouldn’t request that, not tonight at least, but the fact that he could made him feel a lot more confident in himself. As a partner and as a Dom.

“C’mon, baby. I’m so excited to show you,” Ilya tells him, pulling back to squeeze his hands slightly, and he’s happy to see that Shane’s eyes are a little glassy, like maybe he’s experiencing the same wants and desires as Ilya is right now. “You wanna see?”

Shane nods jerkily and licks over his wet lips. “So badly.”

Ilya wraps a possessive arm around his shoulders and pulls him in close before walking towards the front door. The security guard isn’t on duty yet, since they’re here early, so Ilya reaches into his pocket for the key and then unlocks the door, holding it open for Shane first before reattaching himself to Shane’s side as they step in.

The first thing they see is a blue hallway that looks like they’re walking on the bottom of the ocean floor. The ceiling above them is painted and lit in a way that makes it seem like they’re underwater, and the ground is a beautiful blue marble that makes Shane’s jaw drop.

“Ilya,” Shane says breathlessly, and they’ve barely even stepped inside.

Ilya just squeezes him and lets Shane take his time as they walk through the entryway, trying to process everything for the first time through Shane’s eyes.

“This is so beautiful,” Shane whispers, and Ilya’s heart soars.

“All of it is for you. You are my inspiration. My muse,” Ilya tells him softly, and Shane stops walking to bury his face in Ilya’s chest. “We have barely seen anything yet, котенок.” But Shane doesn’t seem to care. He’s feeling emotional, which is just the reaction Ilya was looking for.

Ilya feels pretty emotional, too, to be fair. He’s been working on this place for a while now, and it had been so difficult not to gush to Shane about all of the wonderful things he had planned for their future here in Ottawa, their new home. But surprising Shane was something they both enjoyed too much, and the way Shane reacted to each surprise Ilya planned for him was always absolutely priceless.

“I just love you so much, and I want everyone to know it. I want everyone to know how good you are to me. How amazing you are in general, I just. It kills me that people don’t know,” Shane says into his skin, and Ilya can tell he’s close to tears, so he pets over his hair soothingly.

“Everyone will know how great we are together one day. There will come a time when no one can say the names Ilya Rozanov or Shane Hollander without mentioning the other,” he assures Shane, even though it had been that way for most of their careers now. It seemed even the general public realized how potent their chemistry was, even if they did not yet understand all of the many different ways in which it was true. “Can I show you more, baby? We have not even scratched the surface.”

Shane sniffles and nods, so Ilya pulls him into a kiss before walking him further into the club, and when they finally get to the main room, Shane gasps.

There’s a giant fish tank with sound-protective glass spanning across one of the main walls, a whole fleet of exotic, colorful fish swimming along the inside of it. Ilya could picture his kitten sitting in front of it some days, pawing at the glass while he tried to catch the swishing little creatures. He thinks Shane is probably fantasizing about the same thing, if the way he grabs onto Ilya’s shirt is anything to go off of.

The ceiling is painted to look wet and glassy to go along with the theme, and the bar is lit up with vibrant aqua sea glass that makes the whole room glow as if it were bioluminescent. The floor has panels with different screens that move like the ocean waves beneath them, reacting to footsteps by creating little indents in the water. Ilya feels pride at seeing it all come to life before him.

There are seating areas of couches with crushed teal velvet, extravagant chandeliers that hang from the ceiling with massive arrangements of coral in soothing shades of orange. On one of the walls hangs an expansive fisherman’s net that will serve as a rig for any rope demonstrations they hope to hold in the near future. Other parts of the wall are draped with hanging seaweed and kelp, anything Ilya could think of that would help make the underwater scene feel a little more real. The entire club is lit with streaks of blue, purple, and pink, casting moving shadows across the space to really bring some life to it. And every so often, a whale might pass through, or perhaps a shark will shoot by, making the walls vibrate and shake as soft, muted sounds of sea creatures interrupt what will otherwise be blaring music from the DJ. But for now, it’s peaceful. Calming. Immersive.

Ilya isn’t expecting it when Shane suddenly drops to his knees and hugs him around the legs, effectively burying himself in Ilya’s waist.

“Baby,” Ilya swallows, his hand immediately coming to card through Shane’s soft hair. But Shane is speechless and a little shaky, so Ilya just comforts him until he can find his words. “You must know by now that you are everything to me.”

Shane sobs at that, and Ilya can’t take not holding him, so he drops to the ground as well, sitting to pull Shane into his arms as the other immediately comes apart.

“Oh, you are so precious.” God, Ilya couldn’t explain how much he loved seeing him cry. For others, it might mean that something was terribly wrong, but for Shane specifically, it meant that he was overwhelmed, usually in a good way. He could get so emotional that his feelings had no choice but to literally spill out of him. Cause sometimes Shane couldn’t find the words.

Ilya was showing him levels of love that he had never encountered before. Ilya, himself, doesn’t even know how he’s managed to conjure up so much of it. Perhaps it came from years of desperately wishing he had someone to come home to. Someone to put all his energy into during the times when he felt like there was no place for him in this world. No reason for him to exist. But Shane had changed all of that. Shane gave him purpose. Shane was his reason.

“Y-you do so…s-so many big gestures,” Shane sucks in a stuttered breath. “Everything you do is a proposal of your love. You love me so…so loudly. I don’t know what I did to deserve all of this.”

Ilya wants to start crying with him. It seemed they both felt undeserving; they both struggled with recognizing their worth. Ilya thought that Shane hung the moon, sun, and all of the stars, but sometimes, the way Shane reacted to things, it was like Shane thought the same of him. Even though Ilya knew that couldn’t be true. He didn’t contain nearly a fraction of the Golden Boy’s greatness, but he supposed it was a good thing that they each failed to understand the importance of what they could offer one another. It made the give and take of their relationship that much more special, had that little extra element of surprise—like Shane proposing to him, for one.

Ilya had been upset, mostly because he hadn’t expected it, couldn’t plan for it, and, therefore, couldn’t categorize what it meant. Had Shane been expecting him to propose and grown impatient because Ilya hadn’t yet? Did he not trust that Ilya had a plan? Was he doubting Ilya’s love for him? But no, Ilya could see it all for what it was now. Shane had wanted to give him something back. An offering of his love in ways he didn’t normally serve to Ilya on a platter.

Because, normally, Ilya had to work for it. He had to think through all of Shane’s complicated preferences, had to take into account their limitations as a couple who were not publicly out, had to plan for each and every scenario that came with Shane being a cat, and a perfectionist, and a nervous fucking wreck at times.

Maybe that was why Ilya questioned anything that came easy. He’s always had to fight for the people in his life; they rarely ever fought for him. So, Shane’s proposal had triggered red alarm bells in his head. What was the trick? What was the deeper meaning? Why had their dynamic shifted this time, for this specific occurrence? He feels silly now that he knows the answer is quite simple. Shane loved him. Loved him enough to want to try and replicate Ilya’s big, grand gestures, even though it was slightly out of his comfort zone. Just because he knew how good Ilya could make him feel by professing his love—loudly, and sometimes, obnoxiously— he had wanted to try and offer Ilya the same. But as endearing as it was, Ilya didn’t need that from Shane. He just needed to have him. Shane’s love—and god, his submission—that was more than enough.

“You deserve it just by loving me so well in return,” Ilya tells him honestly, as he rubs Shane’s back, holding him so fucking close. “And I get so much out of it, too. Just seeing you react like this…you have no idea how much you mean to me. How fulfilled I am by making you happy. I want to be responsible for all the good things in your life.”

-

Ilya was responsible for all the good things in Shane’s life. And Shane used to think his life was fucking grand, but it was like Ilya had opened up a whole new world for him. A world he hadn’t even realized was so big and beautiful and waiting for him to dive into. Not just the club, but hockey, too. His new friends. Getting to live authentically without fear.

Shane sucks in a heavy breath and pulls back slightly to look at Ilya’s face, his own teary and puffy and messy with emotion. How was it possible that he stumbled across the most perfect human in existence? Ilya got better every single day. He was so selfless, so detail-oriented in the way he cared for others, gave up so much of his time and attention without asking for anything in return. Shane wanted to bow at his feet, kiss the ground he walked upon, give himself over in every single way that existed. How could he ever give Ilya back what Ilya had given him?

“You’re so fucking amazing, and you don’t even know it,” Shane hiccups another sob as he clutches onto Ilya’s neck tightly. “I don’t…I can’t—” he drops his forehead to Ilya’s shoulder, trying to get himself together and failing miserably. How the fuck is he supposed to express the painful mass of feeling that lives inside of him? The one that grows every day and threatens to burst with each step he takes, until he positively explodes and leaks love for Ilya all over the floor, drowning the entire Earth in it. “I love you so much. You—”

“It’s okay, baby,” Ilya is saying to him so gently. “I understand. You don’t have to put it into words for me to understand. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you get so overwhelmed by everything I offer you.”

Fuck. Shane was overwhelmed. He feels like he’s going to have a panic attack with how much he needs to submit to him right now. He needs something. He needs—

“Hey,” Ilya tells him sharply all of a sudden. “You are okay, just breathe for me. Everything’s okay, hm? You wear my collar everywhere you go. There is no question of how much you love me. You asked me to marry you, sweetheart. And I said yes, didn’t I? Even though I was so fucking scared about what that meant. Because sometimes I see my baby kitten taking big human steps, and I worry that you’re no longer going to need me the way I need you. I worry that, as things in your life start to get better, you’re not going to rely on our dynamic as much. That maybe you’re just going to want me a normal amount rather than to be fucking consumed by me the way I would prefer—”

“Never,” Shane cuts in around a gasp. “I’m always going to need this. I’m yours, forever and ever. I’m never going to stop wanting to be your котенок.”

Ilya just smiles against him and cards his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Then, we are exactly on the same page. You never have to worry about proving that to me, you know? You give yourself over to me in so many ways. You may not always show me with your words, or with big declarations, but you show me in the way you listen. The way you respond to everything I give you. We are different, yes? We express ourselves differently. We process things differently. This is one of the reasons we are so good together, hm?”

Shane sniffles and nods his agreement, dragging his tongue across Ilya’s neck.

“Ah, you see? This is one way my kitten loves to show me affection. Your kitten licks mean so much more to me than any human words you could ever string together. You would not question if a pet loves you just because they cannot speak it. We accept each other’s limitations. We each give what we are able to, don’t we?”

Shane loves him so fucking much. He still isn’t sure Ilya understands, still isn’t sure he’s ever going to want to stop proving it to him, but that’s okay. For now, Ilya does get it to some degree, and Shane still had so much time to keep making it clear.

“I am going to take this to mean you approve of the club.”

Shane lets out a wet laugh and practically tackles him to the floor, settling on top of his stomach as Ilya lies back. “The club is fucking amazing. God, Ilya. You’re just…you’re incredible. Everything you do is incredible.”

Ilya smirks up at him, giving Shane’s hips a squeeze. “Full marks already? You have not even seen my new playroom yet.”

Shane dives forward to nuzzle against him, rubbing his face and hair all over the expanse of Ilya’s neck as Ilya laughs and holds him impossibly close.

“I know, I know. It is very exciting. But if you are expecting me to let you be a kitten for a little bit before everyone gets here, then we should probably go take a look, hm?” He questions, and Shane sits up immediately, his eyes impossibly wide.

He tips his head, and if he had ears on right now, they’d be twitching in excitement. He wants to be a kitten so bad. He wants to rub his face all over Ilya’s crotch, wants to sniff him and bite him, and be a slave to his every desire. He wants to crawl at Ilya’s feet tonight. Wants to say fuck it and go down as far as possible, leaving Ilya to explain to the guys why he’s leading Shane around by a leash. Wants Ilya to say Shane is so brain-dead and love-drunk that he can’t process a single thought.

Ilya has a knowing look in his eyes, like he’s following every thought that crosses Shane’s mind. Like he has the subtitles on even though he’s watching his favorite show with the sound off.

Ilya helps him to his feet, and Shane’s knees are fucking wobbling. He feels at risk tonight, like there’s no way he’s going to be able to stay up with everything that’s happened in the past week. The near-death experience. Their engagement. Ilya’s tattoo.

Holy fuck. Ilya’s tattoo would be on full show for the guys tonight. How the fuck was he going to explain it? Was he just going to come right out and say that Shane’s necklace was a collar and Ilya had gotten it tattooed on him as a way of showing his ownership? And if he didn’t say that, how would the guys not make the connection? They had to know, right? How could they not? It seemed so glaringly obvious, to Shane at least, but maybe his brain was a little predisposed towards this type of thing. His breathing picks up again.

“Easy, Shane,” Ilya tells him groundingly, and Shane swallows as he tries to keep himself together.

He focuses on the feeling of Ilya’s hand on his back. He focuses on the soft ocean sounds drifting through the most beautiful club he’s ever seen in his life. He focuses on the gentle vibrations of the whale sounds coursing through the walls. But it only makes him feel more frenzied, more out of control. He needs to submit to Ilya so badly. He needs to show him how happy he’s making Shane feel.

“I know. It has been an eventful week for us, hasn’t it? We have not had much of a break recently,” Ilya acknowledges as Shane tucks further into his side. “It’s okay if you are extra cuddly tonight. The guys already know you are a sweet little angel. And Troy is going to be here, right? If you are feeling like a kitten, you can talk to him. Plus…Ivan is going to be here.”

Shane’s head shoots up. Ivan? Ivan is coming??? But Ivan isn’t supposed to be here until Sunday. Ivan and Cedric! For their playdate. He’s coming tonight??? Since when? What is going on!!!

Ilya squeezes the back of his neck, and Shane moans while sinking back into submission. “We are not going to play with Ivan tonight, baby. That is for Sunday, yes? But he was able to come into town a little earlier, and he wanted to see you, so I said he should come.”

“Ivan,” Shane whines desperately, clinging to Ilya as he pleads.

“No, sweetheart. He is not going to be a puppy tonight, and you are not going to be a kitty either—”

Shane lets out a wounded noise.

“Okay, you are always a kitty,” Ilya relents. “But you are going to need to be on your best human behavior tonight.”

Shane was also always on his best behavior, although maybe not necessarily in the human sense, but he couldn’t fucking wait to see Ivan. Holy shit. Ivan was going to get to meet Troy, too. Now, it really felt like all of his worlds were colliding.

“Are you ready to see my new playroom?” Ilya asks as they stop in front of a door. The outside is covered in silky, ruched, aqua fabric pulled into shapes of diamonds with little holographic fish scales scattered throughout. Shane feels like he’s about to enter into another dimension.

When Ilya opens the door, Shane is grateful for the hands securing him around the waist because he’s pretty sure he might pass out any moment now. The playroom…it looks like something out of a dream.

The first thing Shane notices are the large, 3D, glass-blown jellyfish hanging over the bed, with blue, wavy tulle pieces of fabric that extend down to the floor, strings of beaded crystal woven in between. The bedding is ethereal, different shades of blue coming into play depending on how the shadows of the jellyfish lights play across them. There are starfish pillows and a little plush seahorse that Shane can’t wait to hold close to his chest. There’s colorful fish painted on the walls, each of them wearing a welcoming smile that makes Shane’s heart ache. And to top it all off, there’s a crushed velvet couch that looks like the coziest thing he’s ever seen in his life. It’s Ilya’s playroom, so Shane’s sure there’s more to it than that, more technical stuff, but this is all Shane can process right now. He feels like a mermaid kitty.

He turns around and collapses fully into Ilya’s chest, nearly knocking him off his feet with the force of it, as Shane has a full-on mental breakdown in his arms.

“Alright, come here. You’re okay,” Ilya is telling him from some far-off, distant place. And Shane feels his feet lift off the ground as Ilya picks him up by the hips and carries him further into the room. They’re sitting at some point, but Shane can’t see any part of the world around him. He thinks if he tries to look, he’s just going to wind up crying harder, and they’re never going to make it to this opening tonight.

Ilya fucking Rozanov. Does his greatness know no bounds? Maybe Ilya should be the one planning this wedding. Ilya with his impeccable taste and his god-awfully brilliant ideas. Shane doesn’t even want to imagine what his proposal would look like. It would probably send him into a coma. Send him into an early grave. Perhaps Shane should get surgery to have cat ears physically attached to his head. To add something to his throat that will make his vocal cords rumble with a loud purr every time Ilya does something gobsmackingly fantastic. He’d never fucking shut up if that were the case. He’d be vibrating with happiness at every second of the day. God, he needs his tattoo fast. He needs to mark himself permanently as Ilya’s good, good boy.

Ilya just holds him tight to his chest, grounding Shane with soft words and firm touches. He’s sending Shane down even further; Shane wonders if he realizes that, or if Shane is just that fucking affected right now that anything would. But Ilya is petting him so slowly. Scratching at his hair. Talking to him like his brain can’t understand words. That’s accurate, actually. His brain can’t.

But, eventually, Shane’s breathing starts to even out. His tears start to dry up, not because he’s not still emotional, but because it’s wearing him out. Being so endlessly in love is exhausting. He feels it all through his body.

And the next thing he knows, he’s waking up. He’s cuddled up in bed in the softest sheets known to man and—

Shane sits up and looks around frantically. Ilya. Where the fuck is Ilya? Ilya is gone. Ilya isn’t with him. Ilya left him. He’s alone in the most beautiful bed in the world, and Ilya is nowhere to be found. Shane clutches onto his collar tightly to make sure he didn’t imagine the last few months. Holy fuck. That would be quite the wake-up call, wouldn’t it? No Ilya. No Ottawa. No Centaurs. No being a kitten.

If that were true…if Shane woke up and it was all a dream, he’d have started sprinting to Ilya’s house. To Ilya’s club. Would have hopped on a plane to Boston if he had to. If that’s somehow where Ilya was.

Where the fuck was Ilya? Shane feels his heart pounding in his chest. He feels his lower lip start to wobble. He feels crazy. Out of control. He doesn’t know what to do with himself if Ilya isn’t here. He’s two seconds away from letting out the most ungodly screaming-crying sound when the door to the playroom snicks open, and then, Ilya is there. Right before his eyes. Shane practically throws himself at him.

“You were gone,” Shane sobs desperately.

“Hey. It is okay. I am right here. I was just getting you some water, моя любовь. I have not stocked the fridge in here yet.”

Shane can feel the water bottle digging into his back as Ilya holds him closely.

“I thought I dreamed the whole thing,” Shane cries, his body shaking with the revelation that it is real. He hadn’t made it up in his head. “You. The club. Being your котенок. Everything.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ilya’s voice is filled with pain.

“I thought…I thought I was back in Montreal. Playing with the Voyageurs still. I thought it never happened. I thought—”

Ilya bites his neck sharply, and Shane goes lax in his arms all at once. Holy fuck.

“You are here. This is real. I am yours. Okay? I am sorry for disappearing on you. I am sorry for ever making you doubt that.”

Shane is feeling fuzzy again. Or maybe he never stopped. Maybe his feelings for Ilya are just too intense that he only has a few modes: out of his mind, freaking out and crying, or brainless and unresponsive to anyone except his owner. But somehow, he needed to access his hockey mode right now. He needed to lock the fuck in. He needed to be a human around the guys because Ilya had said so.

Shane is getting hard in his pants. He wants to hump Ilya into oblivion. He wants to be made into a mindless slut for him. He wants Ilya to fuck his throat until it’s raw. He wants Ilya to let Ivan and Troy and every fucking person in this place watch.

“Baby,” Ilya says unsurely, like he has no idea how they’re going to get Shane together in time for the club opening, which, if Shane had to guess, must be happening very soon. He doesn’t know how long he’s been asleep for. The playroom feels like a frozen time trap.

Shane sucks on the fabric of Ilya’s shirt to try and soothe himself.

-

Shane is in quite a state tonight. Maybe it’s because he feels safe in the new club, extra cared for on account of all the things Ilya has been planning for him, but still, Ilya hadn’t been expecting this reaction.

He’s grateful that Troy and Ivan are both going to be in attendance this evening because they were going to have to serve as Ilya’s point people if Shane started to go down again. He’s also glad that the guys have already been prepped for this. They didn’t know Shane was a kitten, but they knew he could be quiet. Affectionate. Oddly clingy sometimes. They were probably going to see a lot of that tonight, if Ilya had to guess.

Ilya tips his chin up so Shane is forced to look at him through his very hazy eyes. “I am going to need you to be my little helper tonight.”

Shane turns to try and bite at his hand. Ilya can’t resist smiling, but he gives him a pinch on the back of his neck to grab his attention again.

“This is Troy’s first night at a club like this. He is probably going to be very nervous. Same with Ivan, hm? He does not know any of the boys,” Ilya explains, scratching lightly at the back of Shane’s hair. “I am going to need you to stay with them all night and make sure they are okay, yes? Can you be a good boy for me and do that? If you are not with me, you need to be with Troy or Ivan. Otherwise, they may get scared, and we will not be able to play with them again.”

Ilya watches as Shane’s eyes go wide in alertness.

“Do you understand?” Ilya looks him over in consideration. “If you are not with me, you are with Troy or Ivan. I need you to be a good kitten and stay with them so they feel safe.”

That was not entirely true. Mostly, Ilya was giving Shane a task so that he had something to keep him grounded. When he was at risk of not being Ilya’s good boy, Shane could get very focused very fast. He could develop an almost laser-like attentiveness to whatever task Ilya had assigned to him. And right now, he needed Shane to stick to his safety humans if there was ever a point that Ilya needed to step away.

They’re doing a friends and family soft opening, but for the rest of his staff, this is a full-out run-through. He’s got new bartenders, new security guards, and most importantly, a new manager, Anastasia. She was nice, friendly, but no nonsense. She would be in charge of the place when Ilya couldn’t be there, which was honestly going to be more often than not. With their hectic hockey schedule, he didn’t have time to commit to running the club day-to-day, and Svetlana had her own businesses to manage in Montreal. Mostly, Ilya would handle big-ticket items. Events. Policies. Executive decisions. The point is, as much as this is just a little shindig for their people, Ilya was still technically working tonight. Helping the staff work out all the kinks—no pun intended—before they opened fully to the wider public.

Shane is still looking at him in confusion, so Ilya gives his cheek a soft stroke with his thumb. “You want Troy and Ivan to feel safe, don’t you, baby? So they can come back to play with you?”

That Shane seems to understand, at least, seeing as he nods his head jerkily.

“Then, I am going to need you to be very nice to them. Stay close to them. Make sure they are having a good time, okay? I need you to be a very good kitten for them. Can you let me know that you understand?”

Shane responds by turning slightly to lick at Ilya’s wrist.

“Good boy,” Ilya praises, giving his cheek another stroke. “It’s okay if you want to be quiet around the guys. They already know you can be like that sometimes. You’re gonna be safe here. It is just people we know.” Ilya lets go of Shane for a second when his phone buzzes in his pocket. “Ah, that is Svetlana.” He reaches to give Shane a rub over his side. “Are you okay if we go say hello to her? You like Svetlana, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Shane just smiles and drops his head to Ilya’s chest. He’s feeling sweet. Maybe a little silly. Nothing that’s setting off any major alarm bells in Ilya’s head.

“Okay,” he says decisively. “We are going to go see her. You are going to hold my hand, and if something is wrong, I need you to let me know. Do you remember your paw squeezes with your kitty claws?” Ilya asks him. “Can you give me the squeeze for green, baby?”

Ilya feels relief when Shane digs his nails into his hand once.

“And the squeeze for yellow and red?”

Shane digs his nails in and holds it.

“Good boy,” Ilya breathes, pulling Shane close to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Alright, we are going now.”

Ilya was excited to see Svetlana. If there was one person he was dying to tell about their engagement, it was her. She was the only person in the world who knew what this meant to him. She had been with Ilya through all the many ups and downs of his Shane obsession. He remembers crying in her lap when the articles about Shane and Rose being engaged first came out. They were disproven, of course, but for those couple of days, Ilya had been a wreck. His Shane…engaged to a woman. A fucking movie star. A movie star who Ilya now owed everything to for finally getting Shane to come to his club. God, he was going to have to send her a fruit basket. Or maybe do some digging on Svetlana. Apparently, he was fucking BDSM Cupid lately; he’s been taking on a lot of clients.

Ilya keeps Shane tucked under his arm as they head back out into the main area, and it’s like Shane is seeing the place for the first time through his kitten eyes. He’s reacting to the fish exactly the way Ilya had hoped he would. His eyes widen when the first whale passes through, and Ilya smiles at the way it makes Shane gravitate closer to him, like he’s a little scared of all the sea creatures. Ilya just pretends they’re attached at the hip and kisses into his hair.

“There are my two lovebirds,” comes Svetlana’s voice from across the room. “Ilyusha, you have really outdone yourself with this place. I think I like it even better than the mock-up you showed me.”

Ilya smiles and looks around the room proudly. “It came together quite nicely, didn’t it? It is very good to see you.” He doesn’t let go of Shane as he leans in to hug her with his free arm.

“It is amazing to see you, too. I am excited to meet some of your teammates. It is so nice you are finally starting to play well together. I was getting a bit of secondhand embarrassment, you know? I am used to cheering for a winning team.”

Ilya rolls his eyes and then gives Shane’s back a little rub. “Baby, can you say hi to Sveta?”

Shane leans his head against Ilya’s shoulder and juts his lower lip out slightly.

“Hi, sweet котенок. I feel like I rarely ever see you human anymore,” Svetlana coos at him, her expression warm and fond.

“Well, he is human tonight. Or at least he is supposed to be. Call him Shane, please,” Ilya requests, even though it makes Shane turn to burrow his face into Ilya’s chest. “I know, I know, but we need to do our best to stay up, sweetheart. We have a long evening ahead of us.” Ilya rubs at his shoulder before turning to Svetlana again. “I did not anticipate him getting so emotional in response to all of this.”

Svetlana laughs as if Ilya is clueless. “I am sure it has more to do with the ring around your neck!”

Oh, right. That. Ilya can’t help the way his lips curl up in reaction.

“You are engaged?” She breaks into a big smile.

“We are,” Ilya relents, his voice going soft because wow. Saying it out loud makes it feel really real.

“Ilya. I am so happy for you,” Svetlana gushes, gripping onto his hand tightly as she leans in to get a look at the ring. Her eyes drift to Shane for a second, and then back to Ilya a moment later. “But you are the one wearing it. Did…did Shane propose to you?”

Ilya huffs out a laugh. “Yes, we have already gotten into a big fight over it. He knows I am still going to do my proposal, but unfortunately, he beat me to it.”

Svetlana shakes her head in disbelief. “You two are very perfect for each other. I am so glad everything worked out. And I am glad you’re safe. I was terrified when I heard about what happened with the—”

Ilya cuts her off with an urgent look that says, please don’t bring up the crash. He and Shane were both doing a lot better with the aftermath of everything, but Ilya honestly did not trust Shane’s mental state right now. He was more emotional and sensitive than usual, and adding the crash to the mix was, decidedly, not a good idea.

“I see you guys got started without me,” a new voice enters the space all of a sudden, and Ilya turns to see Ivan strolling up with a bright smile. “Rozy, the club looks incredible. I may even like this one more than Hush. What’s it called again?”

“Drift,” Ilya smiles as Shane jolts to life in his arms. “I am glad you were able to make it.”

Ivan just shrugs. “I had someone in town I wanted to catch up with, so figured I would come a few days early. There’s my kitty cat,” he laughs when Shane springs over to hug him.

Ilya can’t help hovering close, feeling a little on edge with the way Shane was reacting to things today. He was more sensitive than usual, but hopefully, he would start to feel more comfortable with the added company rather than less.

“You are not wearing your ears, котенок,” Ivan notices as he runs a hand through Shane’s hair.

Shane pouts pathetically and nuzzles into Ivan’s chest, causing the other to frown and look up at Ilya.

Ilya sighs. “He is not supposed to be down right now, but it has been a big day for us. First with the engagement—”

“The engagement?” Ivan’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit. Congratulations, you guys,” he expresses delightedly, pulling Shane a little closer to him from where Shane is cuddled against his chest.

“Thank you,” Ilya can’t help but smile. “Anyway, most of the team does not know about him. They know he is my sub, but not like this. I am hoping to keep it under wraps if possible. They won’t be alarmed if he is quiet or cuddly, but I am worried he is going to go full-on kitten tonight, so. If you could just keep an eye on him.”

“Of course,” Ivan agrees without question, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“There is one other person on the team. Troy. He has watched Shane once like this before, so between the three of us, it shouldn’t be a problem. I just…need to keep him out of trouble. It is a lot to throw at our team, you know? We are around them all the time.”

“No, I understand,” Ivan nods quickly. “I’m impressed you even invited them to the opening. It’s great you guys are able to be out to your team at all, let alone about this.”

Ilya feels his heart pick up a little in appreciation. They were really lucky to have the guys. The fact that all of them were so accepting, and quite curious and eager to learn, was the biggest blessing Ilya could have asked for. And they had Troy and Harris on top of that. Another pairing. Eventually. If Ilya could successfully work his magic.

“They are really good guys. You can be yourself around them. Just nothing too revealing about Shane, please,” Ilya requests, feeling relaxed when he receives a firm confirmation. Ivan was fucking amazing with the way he knew how to handle Shane. He was a remarkable sub, but when he was with Shane, it was almost like he gave off a Dom-like aura. He could be commanding and grounding just enough for Shane to actually listen to him, but he was also enough of a sub that Shane trusted him. And Ilya trusted Ivan, too. He had been a great friend to Shane so far, and Ilya really liked that Shane had another sub to talk to. Plus, they were certainly hot when they played together. Ilya is looking forward to seeing more of that on Sunday.

When the guys do finally start to arrive, Ilya is just glad that Troy gets there first. He feels confident that Ivan will be able to help with Shane tonight if necessary, but it was always great to have more people he could trust to keep an eye out, and Troy had proven to be a pretty stellar cat sitter. In the past week, he’s become Ilya’s sort of right-hand man when it came to Shane. If Shane even seemed like something might set him off, Troy would alert Ilya in an instant. He was starting to get really good at reading Shane’s cues, too, and Ilya liked how eager Troy was to please. Like he got off on being the team’s watchdog. Ilya wondered if Harris might get off on it, too.

“Hey, guys,” Troy says breathlessly as he walks up. “I don’t know what I was expecting when you said ‘BDSM club opening, wear blue’, but it was definitely not this,” he laughs.

“It is like he dreams of being an amateur interior designer,” Svetlana jokes as she steps back over to them after a brief detour at the bar.

“I’d say he’s a little past amateur,” Ivan grins, giving Shane’s shoulder another rub.

“Ivan, Svetlana, this is Troy,” Ilya introduces. “Svetlana is co-owner with me for both of the clubs,” he explains. “She is a long-time childhood friend of mine. And Ivan has been coming to our club in Montreal for many years now. He and Shane are very close, as you can see.”

“This is the teammate who knows?” Ivan asks him lightly, tipping his head towards Troy, and Ilya nods. “It’s really nice to meet you. I’m glad Shane has someone on the team he can be himself around. This kitty deserves all the love,” Ivan hums sweetly, while scratching his fingers through Shane’s hair.

Shane just purrs and nuzzles up into his hand.

“Wow,” Troy comments, watching the way that Shane and Ivan are interacting. “So, you’ve been around him a lot like this, then?”

“A good amount,” Ivan agrees, shrugging. “We have only played together once, although that will be changing soon. Right, kitty?” Ivan reminds him, giving Shane a little shake.

“Play together?” Troy raises his eyebrows. “Like…like as cats?”

“Ivan is a puppy,” Ilya chimes in.

“Well, not all the time,” Ivan clarifies. “Not like Shane here, at least. Though I guess he is quite special.”

Ilya practically preens at the compliment.

“But, yeah. I don’t mind a little pet play every now and then. It’s definitely one of the more fun roles to slip into. Plus, Shane and Ilya are great to scene with. Sometimes I get sucked in just by watching them. Rozy, I seriously went down so far after Pet Playground. Cedric fucked me, like, wild. One of our best scenes together, I think.”

Ilya laughs when Troy’s eyes go wide as saucers. “Well, we are excited about seeing you guys on Sunday. Cedric and I have talked a little about boundaries, but we should probably discuss a few things as a group. Although Shane can have trouble staying up in those conversations.”

“You guys are 24/7, though, aren’t you?” Ivan tips his head.

Ilya’s eyes dart to Troy momentarily before going back to Ivan.

Ivan recognizes the gesture almost immediately and changes the subject. “Wait, you never told me about the engagement. Do you have any idea when you’re trying to have the wedding?”

“Baby, you did not even say hi to Troy,” Ilya realizes, reaching for Shane to tug him away from Ivan a bit. He was getting a little too wrapped up in his comfort person, and while the guys would understand if he was clinging to Ilya, it might be sort of weird for them to see Shane clinging to someone else.

-

Shane pouts as Ilya pries him off of Ivan, but his cat eyes focus in awareness when he zeroes in on Troy. He hadn’t even noticed Troy was here.

“Troy,” Shane mumbles quietly, and he looks to Ilya to see if he’s allowed to touch.

“Yes, sweetheart. Go on, give him a hug,” Ilya tells him, so Shane buries himself in Troy’s arms.

“Hi, kitty,” Troy greets, rocking Shane slightly in his hold as Shane sniffs at him.

Wow. Shane has a lot of humans here with him tonight. He’s practically the only kitty.

“We are going to call him Shane to keep him up as much as possible,” Ilya cuts in, and Shane growls a little.

Why the fuck was Ilya trying to cut into his kitty time with all his best friends?

“I don’t want to hear any of that attitude from you, котенок. I told you I need you to be especially nice to Troy and Ivan. They are very nervous, so I need you on your best behavior.”

Shane pouts and pulls himself out of Troy’s arms a bit, and when he turns his head, he’s confused to find Ivan, Troy, and Ilya all smiling at each other like they’re in on some inside joke.

“Um, so. You guys are engaged?” Troy wonders aloud, and Shane feels happy when Ilya instantly agrees. “Woah. That’s huge. Congratulations.”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” Ilya hums, reaching up to touch the ring. The ring that Shane got for him. It’s around his neck for everyone to see!

“Oh my god, Ilya,” Ivan says all of a sudden, and Shane watches as he steps closer to him to look at Ilya’s hand. “Your tattoo. Holy fuck. Is that what I think it is? That is stunning.”

Svetlana squints while leaning in to try and get a better look at it as well, her hand raising to cover her mouth once she does.

“Ah,” Ilya blinks, holding out his hand and rotating it for them all to see.

“Ilyusha,” Svetlana says quietly, her hand resting over her heart this time. “It is truly beautiful. And the fact that you are also honoring your mother.”

Troy furrows his eyebrows as he looks around the group.

“If a Dom ever did that for me, I’d never get off my knees,” Ivan whistles. “That is so fucking hot, Rozy. Damn. How did Shane react?”

“A whole lot of tears,” Ilya laughs, gesturing for Troy to hand Shane over.

Shane wiggles excitedly as he’s transferred and then immediately starts to lick Ilya’s neck.

“I know, baby. It is because I love you very much,” Ilya indulges him with some nice pets over his back.

“Is it, um…it’s Shane’s necklace, right? The one you used to wear?” Troy voices unsurely.

“It’s Shane’s collar,” Ivan corrects. “It’s a symbol of their relationship. A way of displaying Ilya’s ownership. Ilya’s tattoo is basically the ultimate declaration of love and possession. I mean, to tattoo your sub’s collar, especially around your hand like that, in such a prominent way, is just…it’s breathtaking, really. I would kill to have what you guys have.”

“It is unlike anything I have ever seen before,” Svetlana agrees. “They are truly perfect for one another. I never thought I would see the day the ten-year plan finally came to fruition.”

“Ten-year plan?” Ivan cackles. “For what?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know about Ilya’s life-long crush,” Svetlana rolls her eyes. “It was the most pathetic thing in the world, but I just felt so bad for him. I have never seen anyone pine so hard in my life.”

“You’re kidding,” Troy huffs a laugh, looking between the two of them.

Shane just hugs Ilya tightly around the waist.

“Whatever. Make fun all you want, but ten-year plan obviously worked. And I do not see any of you fuckers in committed relationships. Perhaps you could use my help. I think I have even figured out some of the issues, so it can probably be down to five-year plan now.”

Shane purrs warmly when the entire group laughs.

By the time the rest of the team gets there, Shane is feeling a little more like himself. Or a little less, depending on how you cat-egorized him. But Ilya is holding his hand as they step up to the bar for jello-fish shots, and Shane nearly moans when Ilya sucks the jello shot into his own mouth before passing it to Shane through a kiss. Shane clutches desperately to his shirt and wraps his tongue around the gelatin before swallowing it and pulling Ilya into a real kiss after. Ilya smirks and cups his ass, and Shane has to fight to keep from climbing him and riding him right on top of the bar.

“I’m going to help the bartenders get some trays of shots so we can bring them over to the guys. Can you go with Troy and wait for me, baby?”

Shane nods and purses his lips for another kiss, which Ilya easily grants him, before he scurries off to find Troy, as asked.

He smiles when he sees Troy talking to Wyatt and Bood and immediately sidles up next to him on the couch.

“Shane, buddy, there you are! Oh my god, this place is fucking sick,” Bood whoops. “Rozy is fucking nuts. I can’t believe he’s just doing shit like this in his free time. I can barely even finish a movie before I pass out most nights.”

“I can see why Cassie is looking to spice things up,” Wyatt jokes.

“Oh, shut up, Hazy. So, how does this place compare to the other club?” Bood wonders, and it takes a minute, but when no one else answers, Shane eventually realizes that he must be talking to him.

Shane just looks helplessly to Troy.

Troy leans back against the couch and gestures for Shane to settle into his side. “Do you like this club better than the Montreal one?” Troy rephrases, speaking clearly and slowly to him.

Oh, Shane’s eyes widen in understanding before he nods emphatically. Troy offers him a curl of his lips in response, and Shane’s tummy flutters. He’s doing well. He’s making Troy feel comfortable, helping Troy answer questions. Ilya would be proud of him. Shane wraps his fingers in the fabric at the bottom of Troy’s shirt.

“Is he feeling a little…” Wyatt asks lightly.

“Yeah,” Troy murmurs in agreement, and Shane sighs when Troy’s fingers scratch through the back of his hair.

“God, if the drinks here are as strong as they are at Hush, we’re in for a fucking night,” Ivan voices as he approaches the group of them, a tray of jello-fish shots in hand that he places on the table.

“Guys, this is Ivan,” Troy introduces. “That’s Bood and Wyatt over there.”

“Oh shit. You’ve been to Roz’s Montreal club, then, yeah? You’ve gotta tell us about all the freaky shit that goes on there. He’s always holding out on us,” Wyatt shakes his head as he reaches for one of the shots.

Ivan laughs. “I think he’s probably just trying to protect his and Shane’s dynamic. I’m sure it’s pretty weird having your co-workers know what you and your partner get up to in the bedroom. Especially if your partner is also on that team.”

“I mean, hey. We don’t judge,” Bood shrugs. “We already know Shane’s his sub or whatever. And he invited us here, didn’t he? It doesn’t get much more intimate than that.”

Ivan throws Troy a look that the other guys instantly pick up on.

“Um, unless…” Bood pauses, glancing between them.

“Details about someone’s arrangement are extremely intimate. Some things are meant to be private,” Ivan offers, sitting down on the couch next to Shane. Shane immediately jolts up in excitement and digs his claws into Ivan’s thigh. “Yes, hello, cutie. How are we doing over here?”

Shane just purrs as Ivan gives him a rub. He feels so safe next to his two humans in his owner’s new club.

“You and Shane are pretty close, then, huh? I thought Barrett was the only one allowed to touch him without Rozy going feral,” Wyatt snorts.

“Yeah, Shane’s a good friend,” Ivan agrees, turning back to the group this time as he takes a shot. “Want one, котенок?”

Shane already had one, and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to have another, but Ilya said to make sure Ivan feels safe, so Shane tugs at Ivan’s shirt to get him to focus on him.

“And Ilya’s cool with you just like…touching him like this? Cause I feel like if I did that, he’d lose his fucking mind,” Bood chuckles.

“Mm, probably because you have voiced on numerous occasions that Shane is your hall pass,” Ilya chimes in as he arrives to the table with another tray of jello-fish shots.

“Pretty sure Ivan wants a go at Shane, too, buddy. And you never seem to say anything about Troy, either,” Bood fires back.

“Yeah, didn’t Troy, like, openly try to go after Shane?” Wyatt grins widely.

“He fucking asked for his number! Plus, Troy is actually gay. He’s way more of a threat.” Bood points at Troy.

“Did someone say Troy is a threat?” Harris walks over to the table with a drink in his hand.

Ilya smirks and waves his hand at Bood and Wyatt. “Move down so me and Harris can sit, would you? Uh, no,” Ilya shakes his head when Harris goes to sit next to Ivan. “You over there.” He juts his chin in the direction of the space that’s just opened up next to Troy. “Troy, scooch down. I am taking your spot.”

“Alpha,” Shane mutters into Ivan’s neck. Ivan shushes him and rubs over his thigh in response.

“Maybe gay people are allowed to touch each other like that, but straight people aren’t,” Wyatt muses to Bood, and Ilya snorts.

“He is allowed to touch him like that because he is Shane’s best friend and he is also a sub,” Ilya clarifies. “It is like if Shane cuddled up to Rose Landry. It is not a threat. They are not compatible.”

Bood just wiggles his eyebrows. “So, you think I’m a threat?”

“Are the boys being ignorant about club dynamics?” Svetlana sighs as she walks over. “Vanilla jocks are so tiring.”

Shane lets himself be pulled against Ilya as he settles into the space next to him where Troy has just departed from. Ilya leans in close and takes the shot from Shane’s hand. “Now, how did you get another one of these?”

Shane just blushes and points to Ivan.

“Sorry, was I not supposed to?” Ivan tips his head. “I thought alcohol might be a nice human thing.”

“No, you are right,” Ilya agrees, placing the shot back in Shane’s paw. “Go on, sweetheart. You’re alright.”

“Hey, Rozy,” someone leans over the back of the couch into Ilya’s ear. “Who’s the babe with the curls?”

Shane turns slightly to see Holmberg hovering behind them. He ducks his head when the rookie offers him a small wave with a quirk of his lips.

“That is Svetlana, and she will eat you alive. Don’t even try it,” Ilya warns, and Shane giggles when Holmberg huffs and slinks away in defeat, Ilya rolling his eyes before turning back to him. “These idiots know nothing, I swear.”

Shane smiles and then breaks into laughter when Ilya tickles his stomach.

“I’m trying not to be vanilla, you know? That’s why I’m here. My wife wants to get into it.”

Shane tunes back in to the conversation happening next to them with Bood, Wyatt, and Svetlana. Troy and Harris are just talking quietly to each other like they’re off in their own world.

“Well, you clearly have a lot to learn,” Svetlana replies, looking Bood over pointedly. “But if you are serious, you have come to the right place. There is no better Dom than Rozy.”

“Please,” Ilya refutes. “I have had my fair share of disasters.”

“And that is what makes you such a good Dom,” Svetlana agrees. “I would never feel safe with someone who has not had a scene go wrong before. That is how you learn and get better.”

“A scene go wrong?” Troy clears his throat. “What do you mean?”

“If someone has to color out or if something does not go as planned,” Svetlana clarifies.

“Color out…”

“It is a stoplight system. Green for go, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” Ilya explains. “Basically, a way to communicate or tap out of the scene if someone is feeling uncomfortable or unsafe. A lot of scenes can be very intense, which is why a good Dom must always check in.”

“Oh,” Troy murmurs in understanding.

“I feel like I should be writing this down,” Bood curses while scrambling for his phone.

“Take your shot, котенок,” Ilya catches Shane’s attention by rubbing over his back.

Shane pouts and holds the shot up to Ilya’s mouth.

Ilya just looks down at him with amusement in his eyes. “You want me to feed it to you again?” He laughs and shakes his head. “You are ridiculous. Everyone look away,” Ilya warns, as he pulls Shane close and raises his arm up to hide them from view.

Shane mewls happily as Ilya feeds him the jello-shot via a kiss while they’re hidden in the safety of his big, muscular arm. Mm, Shane loves him, loves him, loves him.

“Holy fuck, Rozanov! Since when did you get a tattoo?” Wyatt practically yells, standing to grab at Ilya’s wrist.

“Ah, careful, careful. Shane is going to fucking murder you if you mess that up. He has been taping and cleaning it nice and well for me for hockey,” Ilya cautions, pulling his hand back to himself before he offers it up to the group for them to see.

Bood whistles. “That’s beautiful, Roz. That’s for your mother, right? For the charity?”

Svetlana laughs. “Wow, they are really clueless, huh?”

Ilya narrows his eyes at her.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Wyatt demands. “I feel like everyone’s in on something except for Bood and me.”

“It’s for his mother,” Ivan agrees. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late,” Luca says breathlessly as he plops onto one of the couches. “Hey, Troy. Hey, Ilya. Hey, Shane.”

Shane huffs into Ilya’s chest. There’s so many people. He doesn’t want to do this right now. He wants to go back to Ilya’s playroom and be a kitty cat for a while.

“Is he just…really stressed today?” Harris whispers to Ilya from somewhere in the distance.

“This week has been a lot,” Ilya says softly, and Shane feels a soothing hand comb over his back.

“No, of course,” Harris agrees. “But…it’s from that still or…”

“They’re engaged,” Troy offers with a smile.

Harris’ jaw drops. “No way! The Centaurs are having a wedding?”

“Wait, what?” The entire group pauses to look towards them, and Shane feels his breathing pick up.

“A wedding?”

“You guys are getting married?”

“Since when!”

Shane desperately digs his claws into Ilya’s side and holds them there for a few seconds.

“Fuck,” Ilya mutters. “Fuck, okay, hold on.”

“Is he okay?” Ivan asks, his eyebrows pinched.

“He is yellow,” Ilya says under his breath, so only Ivan can hear. “I’m going to take him to my playroom for a second.”

“What’s going on?” Troy sits forward. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Ilya’s voice rings out as he pulls Shane into a standing position.

Shane hiccups a sob and wraps his arms securely around Ilya’s neck.

“Okay. You’re okay,” Ilya repeats softly. “We are going to take a little breather. Everything’s good.”

Shane tries to clamp down on any more sounds, but fuck. He’s failing his task. Who was going to help keep Troy and Ivan safe?

He can feel a lot of eyes on him as Ilya whisks him away, can feel how the room has gone practically silent around them, but he just clings to Ilya’s neck tightly and keeps his eyes closed. He can’t fucking handle this right now. Can’t handle all the questions. All the attention. He doesn’t like being human at the club. It’s reminding him of the last time he was human at Hush. When he’d found himself surrounded by people. When he’d gotten so drunk and Nikolai had kissed him. Touched him. Made him cheat on Ilya. A million bodies and voices surrounding him. Making the walls cave in. Making Shane shrink smaller.

Oh fuck. He hasn’t thought about that much at all. Not since the days following. But it all bubbles to the surface now. He grips Ilya tightly again, but they’re halfway across the room now. Ilya’s somehow holding half of his weight as they walk. Shane barely feels his feet touching the ground.

“Doing so well for me, angel. Just breathe. You are safe with me.”

Shane takes a deep breath. And then he’s in the dream bed. The frozen time trap where, for just a split second, he had thought Ilya never entered his life. Wow, he doesn’t feel good. Wasn’t he supposed to be staying with Ivan and Troy?

Ilya is sitting behind him against the head of the bed, his arms wrapped tightly under Shane’s armpits and crossed over his chest. Shane holds him close as Ilya presses a column of grounding kisses down the span of his neck, his stubble digging in with every one.

Shane gasps and sinks into the feeling. Ilya’s big arms pull him even closer, and Shane just relaxes all at once. He can feel Ilya’s dick against his ass. Not hard, necessarily. Just there. It makes him feel safe. His big, strong Alpha would protect him. From Nikolai or anyone else. No one was ever going to touch Shane wrong again.

Shane’s face crumples as he lets his head drop forward. He wants his ears. He wants his ears so badly, but they don’t have code words for everything yet. If he wants Ilya to get them for him, he’s going to have to ask. But he can’t get his voice to work. He can’t get his mind to form the words. He squirms against Ilya’s grip in an effort to try and force the thought to surface.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” Ilya asks, biting gently at the space between his shoulder and neck.

“Ears,” Shane whines softly as the tears spill out of him. God, he was a walking disaster, wasn’t he? It’s no wonder Nikolai had taken advantage of him. He couldn’t stay human to save his life. He thought he’d been doing better, but wow, things are starting to pile up. So many things he didn’t even realize were burning in the background. He should probably call his therapist soon. If he can find time between hockey. And the club. And the wedding, now.

“You can have your ears, sweet boy. You’re okay. Just try and calm down for me, okay?”

Ilya rubs soothingly over his back, and Shane is glad he doesn’t have to leave the bed to look for them when he hears Ilya start rummaging around in a drawer that must be right next to them.

And then, before Shane knows it, there’s a pair of medium-sized ears being clipped into his hair, and he feels like he can finally breathe again. Woah. Okay. He’s okay. He’s Ilya’s kitten right now. Ilya would never let anything happen to his kitten.

“There’s my perfect kitten,” Ilya’s voice oozes out of him, and Shane turns to suck on his neck. “You are just feeling a lot of things today, yes? And that’s okay. So much has happened in one week. It is a lot of emotions to process.”

He’s petting at his hair, and Shane almost wants to tell him. Wants to say he doesn’t feel safe being a human at the club anymore. He only wants to come as a kitten if he has to be around this many people.

“You just wanna be my little baby, don’t you? My sweet boy who doesn’t have to worry about anything?” Ilya hums, rocking him slightly. “You just want me to take care of you. Make all the bad thoughts go away, hm? I know they creep up on you sometimes. My precious angel.”

Shane sniffles and tucks his forehead against Ilya’s jaw, shifting so his ears brush up against Ilya’s cheek.

“There’s my good pet. My gorgeous baby. Oh, you’re the best cat for your owner, aren’t you? Make me so proud of you. So proud that I have such a well-behaved kitty.”

Shane was well-behaved. He never did anything wrong. Except he probably should have told Ilya that he was going to the club that night to meet Ivan. He’d wanted to do it on his own, but maybe it was a sign from the universe that he wasn’t supposed to. If he was a better sub, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he’d have been able to manage being a human around the guys right now. He sucks in another breath.

“Baby, I need you to listen to me, please. Whatever you’re thinking, just let it go. Focus on my voice.”

And Shane listens. He focuses. Even though—

“Good boy. You’re so good for me.”

Ilya is talking to him in that really gooey way he does, sometimes. Like Shane is a tiny, cute little animal he’s being very careful not to spook. Shane relaxes further into his arms.

“There you go, baby. You don’t need to worry about anything else. We’re okay. It is a new space, but that is okay. I know it is probably confusing to have Ivan and Svetlana here at the same time as the boys. Perhaps I could have planned a little better.”

Shane frowns and pulls away slightly to look at him. Ilya’s plans were always great. Shane didn’t ever want him to question himself on that front because Ilya’s plans were never the problem. No, it was usually just Shane and his obsessively detailed mind that could imagine almost any scenario, real or imaginary, to such a degree that it could push him right to the brink of insanity.

Ilya just smiles down at him and bumps their noses together. “I think it is probably best that we tell the boys about you being a kitten, hm? It is not worth all the extra stress of trying to keep it from them.”

-

In all honesty, Ilya really didn’t think they had a choice. Whether they liked it or not, this plane crash had clearly brought up some intense feelings for the both of them, but Shane needed his safe place. And that was what this club was supposed to be for him. It was one thing when they were at practice or out on hockey-related business, but at Drift, Ilya wasn’t going to ask Shane to be anything other than himself.

Ilya couldn’t even remember the last time Shane had been human in his club before. The whole reason they went there was for Shane to be able to play in a space where he felt comfortable enough to just…exist. As he was.

He thinks through the last few times, wracking his brain for an instance he can tie this experience back to. Pet Playground had been the most recent event, but Shane had obviously been a cat for that. There was Fire and Ice, which was a bit of a mess, but Shane had still been a cat. But wait, there was something else. Something he was missing. Because what about when Ilya drove back from Ottawa when he found out—

Ilya’s blood runs fucking cold. God, he feels fucking stupid. The last time Shane had been a human in a BDSM club, he’d been fucking assaulted. And the club was a place where he was supposed to be able to let his guard down, especially because it was Ilya’s club—Ilya’s club where consent was supposed to matter even more than it did at regular clubs, and yet, still, Shane had been violated, his boundaries totally ignored.

Ilya knew he felt safer when he was a cat. Mostly because he trusted Ilya to take care of him, and when Shane was a cat, Ilya was always on high alert. Looking after him. Looking out for him. Because if he had been there, Nikolai never would have laid a hand on him. And maybe if Ilya had told Shane about the texts he’d received when he got outed to the club, then Shane never would have even wanted to go there alone in the first place.

“You know I am always going to protect you from every bad thing in this world, right?” Ilya reminds him, pulling Shane back against his chest, but this time, it’s for his own comfort. “I know there have been times in the past where you needed me and I wasn’t there,” he swallows, rubbing a hand over the expanse of Shane’s back. “But that’s never going to happen again. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He lets his other hand slip through Shane’s hair, scratching expertly behind his cute kitty ears until Shane starts to turn into a warm pile of fur in his lap.

“There’s my sweet boy. Can I get you to drink some water for me?” Ilya asks, reaching next to him for the water bottle he’d retrieved earlier. He uncaps it and hands it to Shane, pleased when the other takes it gingerly and swallows a few sips, holding Ilya’s eye contact as he does. Ilya gives his thigh a little squeeze in approval.

And then they stay there for a while. Ilya tells Shane every thought in his head. He likes hearing Shane laugh, so he tries to stick to silly things. Like when he says he’s going to categorize every guy on the team as either a puppy or a kitty cat, and Shane freezes up in his arms. Only for Ilya to list them one by one and categorize each and every single one of the guys as a puppy, except for Shane, of course. Cause Shane was the only kitty cat. When he tells him as much, Shane laughs so hard that he practically falls over, so Ilya tickles him until he can’t breathe. Until they’re both wrestling and breathless and something akin to how they probably would’ve been if they had gotten the chance to meet up all those years ago in Shane’s hotel room.

Ilya kisses him, and Shane is cognizant enough to kiss back. He’s not all tongue and grabby kitty paws. He’s just sweet as ever, and a little quiet, but that was okay. That was always okay with Ilya.

They’ve been gone for close to an hour now, which is fine, but they should probably try to make one more appearance before the evening is over. Shane seems like he’s in a good place. He isn’t talking, but he’s smiling. And he’s holding Ilya’s hand and playing with his fingers. And he’s giggling and reacting, not like a kitten would, just like Shane would. And Shane was part kitten. And that was okay.

“How would you feel about going back out to the club for a bit?” Ilya hums softly, pressing the tips of Shane’s pink nails to his lips. He was probably due for a nail appointment. Maybe Ilya could send him out with Troy while Ilya was getting everything set up for Halloween on Saturday.

Shane surprises him by ducking forward to press a small kiss to the corner of Ilya’s mouth. “Can I wear my ears?” He whispers, and Ilya feels warm all over.

“As long as you are okay with me telling the boys, angel. I do not have to tell them everything, but I have to tell them something,” Ilya informs, linking their fingers together more securely.

Shane nods. “It’s okay,” he murmurs quietly. “I want to.”

Ilya looks him over carefully. “You are feeling much more yourself, aren’t you, baby?” Ilya asks, because sometimes he wonders what it must be like. To crave the comfort of ears on your head. That element of being able to step out of yourself and into someone else for a bit. The premise of that ‘someone else’ feeling more like you than being yourself ever did. Well, actually, Ilya supposed he could relate to that in some way. Just not the ears part.

“Safe,” Shane whispers, squeezing Ilya’s fingers once.

“Yes, you are very safe with me when you are a kitten, baby, but you are safe with me always, okay? As long as I am there, nothing bad is ever going to happen. That I can promise you. Hm?” Ilya searches his eyes, waiting for the words to sink into Shane’s skin.

Shane leans in to kiss him once more and then pauses with their foreheads pressed together. His eyes are closed, and he’s sniffing, almost scenting the air around him, looking for Ilya’s calming fragrance to bring him back to center.

“You’ll get my attention in some way if something is wrong, yes? Whether it is a color, or your safeword, or you need to squeeze my hand. I need you to tell me so I can make sure you’re okay.”

Shane nods jerkily like he understands, so Ilya rewards him with a peck on the forehead.

As they make their way out into the main room, Ilya can tell Shane feels a lot lighter. He’s gliding through the air with a newfound confidence in his step, and Ilya can’t resist giving him a little twirl, smiling to himself when Shane’s eyes sparkle back at him. He’s at his new fucking club with his fucking adorable kitten fiancé, and he should feel on top of the world. He does.

He thinks the guys will react well, and they probably will, but as always, he felt fiercely protective over Shane, and the need to shield him from all things bad was a consistent fire burning away in his gut. Giving him purpose. Keeping him alive, if Ilya had to guess.

They’re all pretty fucking drunk by the time he and Shane walk over, which Ilya is grateful for. He’s pleased to see that Troy and Harris are very engaged in whatever story Ivan must be telling them, so Ilya steers Shane in that direction, identifying them as the safest entry point for obvious reasons.

“Shane.” Troy perks up when he sees them. “Or...” he pauses, eyes flickering to Ilya once he notices the ears.

“Either is fine,” Ilya tells him kindly as he and Shane sit down on the couch.

“Hey, kitty. We missed you. How you doing?” Ivan asks Shane next.

“Better,” Shane confirms softly, and he smiles when Ivan reaches out to ruffle his hair.

“Oh, wow. Cool ears,” Harris comments in surprise. “Is that like…part of your dynamic or…”

Ilya turns to look at Shane for a moment, and when their eyes meet, he feels like they’re staring into each other’s souls. He feels like they’re starting to share one body, one mind, like they’re way more alike than they are different. Deep down, they had the same fears. The same wants. And, recently, their wants and fears were often one in the same. They wanted to be out. Fully. They wanted to be free.

“Yeah,” Ilya says easily, placing a protective hand over Shane’s knee. “It’s a headspace for him. Helps him relax and feel comfortable. He’s used to being a kitten when he’s at the club, so I think being human was a lot for me to ask of him tonight,” Ilya admits.

“And he is the best kitten in the world,” Ivan praises, much to Shane’s delight.

“He is really, really cute when he’s a kitten,” Troy agrees around a giggle, and Harris raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, wow. Am I the only one who didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?” Wyatt comes bounding over to the group. “Woahhhh. Shane’s got cat ears on,” he laughs, looking over the group. “What’d I miss? Where did you guys go?”

“Shane’s in kitty mode,” Ivan fills in, and Wyatt tips his head.

“I’m confused.”

“When Shane and I are at the club, he likes to be a kitten,” Ilya says casually, reaching for a glass of vodka from the table that he’s pretty sure once belonged to him. And at the wide-eyed look he receives from Wyatt, Ilya shrugs. “You wanted to know what the big secret was earlier. This is it. Shane’s a cat. Sometimes he wears ears, or he likes to be extra cuddly, or get head scratches. It makes him feel safe, and it is how he expresses himself, especially around people he feels comfortable with.”

“Like me,” Troy grins, going in for a pet of his own, that Shane nuzzles into.

Shane is smiling like he’s not scared at all of Wyatt finding out, and it’s then that Ilya realizes Bood, Luca, and Holmberg are looking over at them, too.

“Wait. Did you just say Shane’s a cat?” Holmberg repeats, his eyebrows drawn together like Ilya has just said the sun is purple.

“Yeah,” Ilya agrees. “Sometimes he just wants to be quiet and soft. Wants people to treat him really well with the best pets.”

“And we do, because he’s awesome and sweet,” Ivan hums, booping Shane’s nose. “And it’s pretty sick having a cat around. Shane’s always down for a cuddle, aren’t you, buddy?”

Shane looks at Ilya—who nods at him in approval—before diving into Ivan’s open arms for a snuggle.

“Oh, there you are, sweet boy,” Ivan laughs happily, pulling him close as Shane nuzzles against him.

And when Ilya turns back to gauge the reaction from the guys, they’re all just staring at Shane. Taking in the ears. Taking in how different he seems from when he left the room in tears just an hour ago.

“Wait a second,” Bood cuts in, a hysterical laugh bubbling out of him. “Does that mean we have a team cat now, too? Harris! Is this what all the gays were keeping from us? The fact that Shane is a kitten?”

Ilya feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest. He can’t tell if the reaction is good or bad yet. It feels like his mind might be tricking him. He’s so fucking on guard. He’s ready to jump in and defend Shane with his life if he has to. He’s ready to tell all the guys to get out and fuck off if they can’t be cool with this, but he holds his breath. He tries to let the pieces fall where they may before starting an all-out war like his brain is begging him to.

“I, personally, had no idea,” Harris admits around a big smile. “But you know I love animals. I would never complain about having a cat around. Especially if it’s Shane, who…you know, I already like a lot.”

Wyatt is still watching them with narrowed eyebrows, like he’s trying to figure this whole thing out. “Is this like a BDSM thing or…”

“It’s more of a Shane thing,” Troy chimes in, as if this is all totally normal, and Ilya is grateful to have Shane’s safety people surrounding them on all sides. “But in BDSM, they call it pet play. And it seems really cool, actually. Like, imagine just getting to be a puppy, and everyone wants to pet you and cuddle with you and play with you and tell you how cute you are.”

Ivan raises his hand. “Can confirm it’s very, very fun.”

“Are you a kitten, too?” Harris asks him, although he seems to take note of the fact that Ivan isn’t wearing ears.

“More of a pup myself,” Ivan grins. “But, I mean, not in the way Shane is. Shane is kind of always a kitty. I’d be willing to bet he’s, like, actually part cat if you DNA tested him,” Ivan laughs. “I only really pull out the ears for the club pet events, but trust me, those can be quite a time.”

“See, now we’re getting to the juicy stuff.” Bood rubs his hands together. “Does this mean the straight guys are finally allowed to know more? The gays on this team always get special privileges.”

“Probably because they are known to be more accepting,” Svetlana cuts in sharply as she suddenly appears out of nowhere. “I know, tonight, this opening has been very fun and casual, but everything else that goes on in this club is very serious. It is not a place for jokes or chirping. It is a safe space for people to explore another side of themselves in a way that they do not always get to. As most of you are straight men, I can imagine you have no idea what this feels like. But if you are going to be here, you will be respectful. You do not need to understand fully, but you do need to act correct because it is a huge part of Shane and Ilya’s life, and I think you all very much knew that when you agreed to come here, so there is no excuse.”

“Well, we didn’t know about the kitten part,” LaPointe mentions quietly, and Svetlana just gives him an unimpressed look.

“Really. You did not know Shane is a kitten,” she scoffs as if he’s an idiot. “You should try opening your eyes every once in a while because I know your teammates, and they have never been subtle.”

“Sveta, it is fine,” Ilya sighs, cause he honestly has no idea if she’s making it better or worse. Shane seems to notice his discomfort, and he’s immediately at Ilya’s side again, so Ilya wraps an arm around him and pulls him close. “Look, like she said, the club is a safe space for Shane. I mean, it is for everyone who comes here, but for Shane especially, this really helps him recharge. He goes into his kitten mode, and then he just gets to sit back and relax for a bit while I take care of him. It is not any more complicated than that.”

“But it’s like…a turn on for you?” Holmberg questions, not unkindly. He mostly just looks confused, still.

Ilya smirks. “I mean, everything Shane does is a turn-on for me. If he wants to be a cute, little kitty cat sometimes…even better.” Ilya gives Shane a squeeze, and Shane bites his shoulder gently in appreciation. “But see, he is harmless. If anything, he is just a little sweeter. A little softer and sillier.”

“He seems really happy,” Luca speaks up for the first time. “I hate seeing Shane upset. It’s like…the saddest thing ever. Like when I got here earlier,” Luca frowns. “He seemed really stressed. I mean…he’s been stressed a lot lately.”

“Sometimes he just hits his limit on how much human stuff he can handle,” Ilya hums, petting over Shane’s hair soothingly. “Imagine if you could step out of your head for a bit, not have to worry about the things that are weighing on you. That is what it is like for him. Because it may not seem like it, but Shane is carrying a lot right now. We may be out to you guys, but we still have to hide our relationship and our sexualities. We still worry every day that something will leak to the media and take that choice away from us. We worry about what it will mean for hockey. If we will still be allowed to play professionally. If they will force us to retire,” Ilya explains, giving Shane a scratch behind one of his ears. “These are very big, very real things that are constantly on our minds. Things that threaten our future and how safe we are able to feel when we walk out of the house.”

“You don’t think it would actually come to that, do you?” Bood asks quietly. “I mean, Scott Hunter is gay. They couldn’t really kick you out of the league…could they?”

“Scott Hunter is old and irrelevant,” Svetlana comments dismissively. “Hollander and Rozanov are still some of the biggest names in hockey, and what’s worse, they are known rivals turned teammates who will be married soon enough. One gay hockey player is tolerable, but two of the best players in the league dating each other? On the same team? It would be unprecedented. I am sure Crowell would have some very choice words if this were to go public. The press would have a field day.”

“Well, that’s fucking stupid,” Troy scoffs. “There are four queer people on this team alone and probably countless others across the league who are too scared to speak up. If Scott Hunter coming out wasn’t enough to make the rest of us feel comfortable doing the same, then we should be banding together to figure out what it will take for us to feel safe in our own damn sport.”

“Community,” Ivan chimes in. “You guys need a community. Just like we kinksters have our club, you guys need a safe space where you can talk about these issues with other players who feel the same. If enough of you are willing to team up, maybe you can work together to enact some real change.”

“I’m in,” Wyatt surprises Ilya by rejoining the conversation after a long bout of silence. “I mean, assuming allies are allowed, right? Because I’d be willing to put my name behind any one of these guys. No one should have to live in fear of being open about who they love. And I think it’s really great that you all clearly look out for each other so much. I…think I get now why certain spaces are sacred for certain groups of people, and I also get why having someone like me come into those spaces might be intrusive,” Wyatt acknowledges. “So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really appreciate you trusting us with this, Roz. Inviting us here tonight. Letting us get to see you in your element. And Shane, too.” His eyes go soft. “I think your world is really fucking cool, and if being a cat can help you feel better about the shitty stuff going on out there,” Wyatt says, pointing outside of the club. “Then, I see no reason why you shouldn’t do that whenever you want. At the club or anywhere else.”

Ilya feels his chest in his throat, his fingers moving reflexively through the hair at the nape of Shane’s neck. Shane is just purring and smiling. He’s gone a little more quiet, and Ilya knows that means he feels really safe right now. Really good around all these well-meaning humans.

“Yeah, I mean. Totally,” Bood agrees, gesturing to Shane. “It’s not like he’s acting any different than he usually does. If anything, he just seems happier. And like…super calm.”

“I’d join the ally thing, too!” Luca grins. “I mean, it could be sort of a cool way to meet guys, you know? Maybe I could find a hockey husband.”

LaPointe snorts. “Not Haasy using the gay hockey ally group for his own personal dick gain.”

“I’m cool with Shane being a cat,” Holmberg shrugs. “You all love to sexualize him anyway, so you may as well just do it in the way he likes.”

Ivan barks a surprised laugh at that, but he covers his mouth once he makes eye contact with Ilya. “Sorry.”

“It’s not sexual, you idiot.” Troy rolls his eyes.

“I mean,” Ilya feels the need to clarify. “It can be, but that is not for any of you to worry about. The things I am speaking about are very un-sexual.”

“Yeah, I would be careful if I were you guys,” Ivan adds with a hasty chuckle as he looks between Shane and Ilya. “I’ve been in the scene for a long time, years now, and I’ve never seen anyone even half as possessive as Ilya is about Shane. I mean, both of them about each other, really, but,” he pauses, glancing back to the guys this time. “For the purpose of this scenario, I would very much advise you not to get too comfortable with the way you talk about Shane. Ilya does not mess around when it comes to his kitten.”

Ilya raises his eyebrows and does his own look around the group of guys, all of whom are staring back at him expectantly. “This changes nothing. All this means is that sometimes Shane might want to wear his ears or do something else to make himself more comfortable, and now you will understand why. That is the only reason I am telling you. For your awareness and for his safety.”

“But, um,” Luca cuts in shyly. “Are we allowed to pet him?”

Ilya looks down at Shane. Shane, who is starry-eyed and angelic, tucked up under his arm. Shane, who has just been smiling, and smiling, and smiling since he’s gotten his ears. Shane, who had already inspired a need for some kind of queer allyship alliance to stand up to the league, because no one could stand the thought of him suffering. And all within minutes of coming out to the boys as a perfect black and white speckled kitten.

“Well, that is up to him,” Ilya tells Luca, although he’s still watching Shane. Shane, who can’t look away from him for a second, either. “You know how cats can be. Each one has their own boundaries, and just because they allow you to pet them one day, that does not necessarily mean you will be allowed to pet them the next. But Ivan and Troy know a lot about this, hm?”

“Yeah, I mean.” Troy shrugs, holding his fingers out for Shane to sniff. “I haven’t known about Shane for that long, but he’s pretty easy to read.”

-

Shane already knows he wants a pet from Troy, but for the sake of demonstrating, he gives the fingers in front of him a tentative sniff. Then, he tips his head down and leans in, granting Troy visible permission to rake his fingers through Shane’s hair. He shuts his eyes happily and sinks a little closer, only wavering at the feeling of Ilya’s fingers grounding him around his waist.

“Mm,” he purrs his approval, pulling back when Ilya gives his shirt a small tug.

“See?” Troy smiles fondly at him. “He’ll let you know if he wants you to touch him or not. And he bites, so. Fair warning.”

Shane presses his giggle into Ilya’s shoulder. The humans were always so silly about his biting. It made Shane want to do it more.

“Unless Ilya has given you explicit permission, you should be asking him before you do anything with Shane,” Svetlana’s voice slices through the air. “As far as I know, the only two people who have been given explicit permission tonight are Troy and Ivan.” She points to each of them. “If you are going to be around Shane when he is like this, then you always revert to his Dom. You should not even breathe in Shane’s direction without going to Ilya first.”

“I thought we’re supposed to go off of what Shane wants,” Holmberg voices in confusion.

“It’s a two-step process,” Ivan offers. “You’re asking Ilya if it’s okay to approach Shane, and you’re asking Shane if it’s okay to pet him. If Ilya says no initially, then you stop there. Ilya has the final say.”

“Can I pet him, Rozy?” Wyatt calls out, stepping towards the front of the group with his hand raised.

“Woah, woah. I wanted to pet him,” Bood argues with an affronted expression.

“I’m the one who asked first,” Luca frowns.

Shane shrinks a little at the noise, and he’s thankful when Ilya pulls him closer.

“Okay, no one is going to be petting anyone if you keep raising your voices like this. A cat, remember? My kitten is very sensitive. Which means, if you want to pet him, then you need to be very quiet, and you need to go very slow.”

Shane turns to press his forehead to Ilya’s neck, shutting his eyes for a moment to re-center. He’s feeling good; it’s just a lot, isn’t it? Being in the new club. Having the guys find out about something so personal about him, something he’s been hoping to let go of for a while.

“Just relax, baby,” Ilya whispers huskily against his ear, and Shane does.

He’s really safe. He knows all of these people, for one. He’s spent enough time around each of them to know they would never do anything to hurt him. It’s not just that, though; it’s Ilya, too. Ilya making him feel nice and fuzzy like always. Explaining everything so Shane doesn’t have to. He feels entirely unburdened by reality right now. He chases that feeling a little further.

“No pets from anyone right now.” Shane hears Ilya’s voice telling someone somewhere in the distance. “He is still a little overwhelmed from earlier.” And then, to Shane this time. “It’s okay, angel. You’re safe. You’re right with me.”

Shane stays hidden in Ilya’s neck for who knows how long. He catches partial tidbits of conversation in passing. Something about an Intro to BDSM night for newbies. Questions regarding the membership application process. More talk on the idea to form an NHL-facing queer alliance.

Blah, blah, blah. Shane can’t hear anything over the sound of Ilya’s steady beating heart in his ears. The scent of Ilya’s cologne pulsing strongly from where Shane’s got his nose pressed to Ilya’s throat. Ilya’s warm hand on his back, in his hair, around his hip. Shane’s digging his own nails into Ilya’s thigh in a kneading motion, his eyelashes fluttering every so often against Ilya’s jawline as he shifts his head and tries to nuzzle closer.

And Ilya always finds a way to oblige him. Closing the distance between them by an extra inch, even when no possible space remains. Shane is counting in his head all the times Ilya has said I love you before, although he starts to get a little lost in the memory of each one, and pretty soon he loses count. But he keeps going through them in his mind anyway. It’s all he can think about with the way Ilya’s holding him. Openly loving him, as a kitten, in front of all these people.

Ilya’s the one who gave him all of this. Not just this club, or even this team, but his entire identity. All of his experiences as a gay man. Every single moment he’s spent as a kitten. Ilya was his first love. The first person to make him experience real sexual attraction, to the point where Shane doesn’t even think he knew what it was before. For years, he was just going through the motions, pretending to fit in while, really, he felt like an alien for not craving sex like all the other guys did. Awkward skin-on-skin. Genitals sliding together. Sharing bodily fluids. It was unnatural. Foreign. Gross, at times.

But with Ilya, it was like Shane had entered another dimension. A dimension where everything felt good, and intimate, and earth-shattering. Ilya was the most attractive person alive. The only person Shane thinks he’s ever been attracted to. Because it wasn’t just Ilya’s body, or his wit, or his charm. It was the way his beautiful brain worked, the way he anticipated Shane’s every thought, every wish, every desire. It was the way he knew Shane better than Shane knew himself, and he accepted him exactly as he was. Never asked him to change. Just always met him wherever he was at.

“You’re being so good for me, sweetheart. The guys are so impressed with how well-behaved you are,” Ilya tells him, pulling Shane from his string of consciousness with a heavy pet.

“He’s so cute, I can’t,” Harris smiles, shaking his head. “I have so much more I want to know about this, but I don’t want to be rude by asking.”

And somewhere in the back of Shane’s mind, he remembers about Troy and Harris. About wanting them to get together so Troy can play with him at some point.

Shane mewls and blinks heavily in awareness, focusing his cat eyes right on Harris.

“Oh, wow. Hello there.”

Shane jolts when he realizes he’s being addressed directly this time. Hmmm. He has the power here. Maybe he can open up the conversation between Harris and Troy right now. He catches his claws on Ilya’s shirt to try and tell him as much.

“You are allowed to ask whatever you want,” Ilya says to Harris as he looks down at Shane curiously, taking Shane’s paw in his hand.

Shane tangles his fingers with Ilya’s and then tries to reach for Harris, giggling when Ilya just tips his head in confusion.

“You want Harris to pet you, baby? Is that what you want?”

That’s not exactly what Shane wants, but he hasn’t received pets from anyone new in a while, and the thought is enough to trigger a curiosity within him. He blinks his cat eyes at Ilya and then meows softly.

Troy pushes his lower lip out into a pout with his eyes soft, like Shane is the cutest thing in the world, and it makes Shane’s tummy feel warm all over. He wants Troy to pet him now. He reaches for him as well.

“Ah, I see,” Ilya acknowledges in understanding. “You want Troy and Harris to pet you.”

“So, you can like…understand him? When he does stuff like that?” Harris asks carefully. “Can you actually differentiate his meows or is it the way he’s acting…? Like, how do you know what he’s asking for?”

“Rozy is a fucking wizard,” Ivan laughs in response. “I’m not even exaggerating when I say he knows Shane better than God knows the fucking Bible.”

Ilya rolls his eyes fondly. “It is through a lot of trial and error, but obviously it comes with time. We have signals for certain things when he doesn’t feel like talking. Other than that, it is just my best guess, and it becomes very obvious very fast if I’m reading him wrong.”

Shane leans over his lap to try and get to Troy because, clearly, Ilya finds it more important to answer Harris’ boring questions right now than to give Shane what he wants.

“Alright, котенок. Do you want to sit closer to Troy? Is that it? You can go sit with him, baby. You know you are always allowed when it comes to Troy.”

Shane takes that as permission to start climbing across Ilya and Harris’ laps in order to get to his best friend, but Ilya stops him with firm hands around his waist, and Shane whines defeatedly.

“No, we do not crawl on top of people. You need to stand up and walk over to him if you want to sit near Troy,” Ilya scolds, and Shane pouts resolutely. “You are not in trouble, baby,” Ilya shakes his head. “You just need to use your manners, please.”

“C’mere, kitty,” Troy prompts, patting the space between him and Harris, and Shane squirms to get out of Ilya’s grasp to go join him.

He’s a little unsteady on his feet when he stands, but Ilya keeps a hold on him until he’s able to dive into the new open spot and rub his cheek against Troy’s shoulder.

“Hi, cutie,” Troy laughs at the display of affection. “Where the heck are all your toys, anyway?”

Yeah, Shane thinks. Where were his toys? He finally has the opportunity to play with all these new humans, but there’s no toys for him to play with.

“I do not want him getting too riled up. He can get very, very hyper sometimes,” Ilya explains. “I don’t want to risk him getting into the wrong headspace right now. When we are at the club, the lines can get pretty blurred, so.”

“Meaning what? Meaning it can turn sexual?” Harris questions.

Ilya presses his lips together and nods. “Playtime can get…pretty sexual. Depending on the environment. Depending on why he’s entered his kitten space and who he’s surrounded by. Sometimes, his kitten headspace is a mental coping mechanism. Other times, he can enter it specifically for sex.”

“And that’s when it’s the most fun for me, personally,” Ivan purrs seductively.

Ilya gives Ivan a look. “Easy. Let’s just save that for Sunday.”

“Sunday? What’s happening on Sunday?” Troy pipes in, and Shane starts to get excited at the mention, his wide eyes darting to Ilya.

“Shane,” Ilya warns. “Do not get yourself all worked up. I told you Ivan is just here as a friend today.”

“Sorry, kitty,” Ivan shrugs. “I tried.”

“Ivan and Shane have a playdate scheduled after our game on Sunday,” Ilya fills Troy and Harris in. “We will be doing a scene along with Ivan’s Dom, Cedric.”

“He’s not my Dom,” Ivan corrects. “I mean…he is sometimes. But I am allowed to see other Doms if I wish. We have an open arrangement.”

Ilya narrows his eyes slightly at him. “You are seeing other Doms besides Cedric?”

“Uh, well. Not so often, but you know,” Ivan voices awkwardly, and that only seems to make Ilya double down on his inquiry.

“Who? What other Doms are you seeing? Someone from Hush or another club?”

Ivan laughs in slightly guarded surprise. “Relax, Rozy. It’s no one serious.”

Shane rubs his cheek against Harris’ shoulder this time, just to see how it feels, though he jerks back towards Troy when Harris’ eyes settle on him.

“You’re okay, kitty,” Troy tells him easily, giving Shane’s back a little scratch. “That’s just Harris. He’s really cool and nice. I think you’d like him.”

Shane’s nose twitches a bit when Harris smiles down at him. Ilya and Ivan are still talking about something, but for now, all Shane can focus on is sussing out this new human.

“Do you want to try letting him pet you? You can totally trust him. Do you wanna give him a quick sniff?”

Shane sniffles and nods, staying close to Troy’s side as Harris’ hand comes into view. And then Shane cautiously approaches him for a little sniff and—wow! Shane’s eyes turn huge. Harris smells like green apples!!!

Troy laughs at the reaction and gives his hair a ruffle. “I know, right? He smells good, doesn’t he?” Troy murmurs softly, and when Shane looks between them, he finds them both staring at each other with soft smiles on their faces.

It makes Shane smile, too, and he can’t resist putting his paws on the couch next to Harris’ leg and leaning further into his space for a pet.

“Aww!” Harris coos. “Am I allowed to pet you, kitty?” Harris asks, and he turns to look for Ilya’s approval.

Ilya, who seems to be having a very heated conversation with Ivan about something.

“Ilya?” Troy prompts gently when Ilya still hasn’t responded. “Is Harris okay to pet Shane?”

“What?” Ilya practically snaps as he’s pulled from his conversation, but his expression relaxes once he clues in to the scene in front of him. “Oh. Of course. If Shane is giving you the okay, then go right ahead.”

And Shane purrs fully when Harris’ big, warm hand settles on top of his hair. Holy shit. Being sandwiched between Troy and Harris feels like heaven. He doesn’t know who he wants to pet him more. He leans into the touch, his mouth falling open slightly as Harris starts scratching him just right behind one of his cat ears, and then Shane collapses forward until he’s lying belly-up with his head in Harris’ lap, his legs pulled up until they’re stretched across Troy.

Troy grins widely at Harris and gives Shane’s tummy a rub, and then Harris and Troy are both petting him, and Shane is starting to feel a little loopy. His eyes fall shut, his paws curl up against his chest, and he wiggles happily against the hands that are touching him all over. It feels good. Maybe a little too good. It feels like playtime. The sexy kind. With Troy and Harris. His new friends. A puppy and their owner! Shane has so many friends, oh my god. He feels like the most spoiled kitty alive.

He whimpers and lets his eyes dart open as he reaches his paw out for Troy’s hand. Because he and Troy loved to hold hands. Like pet best friends! Cause that’s what they were, right?

Obviously, because Troy understands him in an instant and reaches out to link their fingers together, offering Shane the sweetest, most private smile in return. Shane growls playfully and lifts out of Harris’ lap in order to tackle Troy against the couch, feeling breathless and alive when Troy catches him around his waist with a giggle.

“Oh, now you’re feeling playful.”

Shane ducks down to rub his face against Troy’s in agreement, licking over his cheek to show just how much he loves him.

“You weren’t kidding about the cat stuff,” Harris laughs, turning to Ilya, who still seems caught up in a private conversation with Ivan, but at the prompt from Harris, Ilya refocuses on the situation.

“Woah, hey. Shane.” Ilya stands quickly and pulls Shane off of Troy by the scruff of his neck. “Let’s keep it PG tonight, sweetheart. It is not a regular club night, remember? I need you to be on your best behavior around the guys.”

Shane whines loudly, the noise turning into a yowl when Ilya effectively gets him all the way off Troy and pulls him into his own lap instead, wrapping his arms firmly around Shane’s waist.

“Shh, sh. Please do not give me attitude right now, baby. We need to be mindful of boundaries tonight. Not everyone has consented to playing with you like that,” Ilya murmurs against his skin.

And Shane sniffles, turning to press his face needily into Ilya’s neck.

Troy furrows his eyebrows as he sits up. “He wasn’t doing anything weird, though. He was just being cuddly.”

“Mm, sure. That is not all he was trying to do,” Ilya huffs a small laugh. “Shane has it in his head that Troy is a puppy who would like to play with him. Like seriously play with him.”

Troy’s eyes go wide as they dart to Harris and then back at Ilya. “What do you mean?”

Ilya sighs, holding onto Shane more securely as Shane twists in his arms. “Like pets do. He wants to wrestle around with you on the floor. Wants you guys to play fetch together. Share toys. He has a lot of fun when he plays with you, and he has decided that you are a puppy like he is a kitty cat.”

“Oh.” Troy flushes. “Um.”

“That is why I needed to pull him off of you. He doesn’t understand that everyone is here as a normal human tonight. Usually, when we are at the club, he is used to being around other pets or other pairings who are more used to…sexual types of behavior.”

“When does the club open for real?” Harris wonders aloud. “Uh. I mean,” he coughs when everyone turns to look at him. “I’d be…you know. Curious. To see him fully in his element. I’ve never really seen pet play before. It’s…I find it really interesting.”

“It opens on Sunday,” Ilya offers, and Shane buzzes to life in his hands trying to reach for Ivan this time. Because Ivan he was allowed to play with. “Baby, if you do not stop trying to get out of my arms, I am going to put you on your leash in my playroom and leave you there until every last one of our guests has gone home.”

Shane freezes immediately, fear curling in his belly at the idea of being left like that. Alone while his owner and all of his friends had fun without him. Alone for hours maybe without Ilya to touch him or talk to him or comfort him. Would Ilya really do that? Would Ilya abandon him?

Ilya rubs over Shane’s lower back soothingly, sliding his hand under Shane’s shirt to resume the motion until they’re touching skin-on-skin. “Take a deep breath for me. You are free to stay out here if you behave yourself, but the choice is yours.”

Shane swallows and closes his eyes when Ilya kisses his cheek. He doesn’t want to cry in front of everyone, but…

“So, that’s like a punishment?” Troy asks, watching them inquisitively. “Shane was telling me there are punishments, but I didn’t really know what that meant.”

-

“Yes. He is very cute, but there are still rules, and he needs to know that there are consequences to not following them,” Ilya explains, because he could tell that Troy and Harris were eager to learn more. “Just because we are at the club does not mean he is allowed to misbehave. And our rules are very important, aren’t they, angel? They help to keep us, and everyone around us, safe.” Ilya tucks his chin against Shane’s forehead as his tears start to pool in the crevice between Ilya’s collarbone and neck.

“He, um…” Harris gestures to Shane warily. “He’s crying.”

“He is alright,” Ilya vows, pressing a kiss into Shane’s hair. “He doesn’t like the idea of punishments. Probably why he is such a good kitten all the time, so he never gets any,” Ilya teases, tickling Shane’s side to pull a giggle out of him before Shane’s face crumples again. His dramatic kitty.

Troy smiles. “So, the rules aren’t bad, then. They’re just like…boundaries. Right? And the punishment is just to help make sure those boundaries stay in place?”

“Exactly,” Ilya grins. “And a punishment could be anything, really. It does not have to be extreme. Mostly, it is just a way of enforcing the dynamic. The Dom gives guidance, yes? But the sub must also want to be guided. Everything between us is a two-way street. I cannot do my part if he does not do his, and vice versa. It is my job to keep him in line, and it is his job to listen. Sure, there are times when a sub may disobey in order to get punished, but if there is no respect, then the dynamic means nothing.”

“But there’s also rewards, right?” Harris hums, and Ilya nods in agreement.

“Of course. Rewards can also be anything. Praise can be a reward,” Ilya offers an example, looking down at Shane in his arms. “For my sweet котенок, at least, who loves to be told how good he is.”

Shane flushes and huffs, hiding his face further into the crook of Ilya’s neck.

“Or soft touches.” Ilya demonstrates by raking his fingers through the back of Shane’s hair. Shane sighs and sinks closer to him in response.

Ilya can feel the idea of any punishment melting away from him. As if Ilya would ever leave Shane locked up alone in his playroom like that. But he couldn’t have Shane losing his cool around the guys. If any one of them left feeling uncomfortable tonight, Ilya knew it could have a really negative impact on the rest of the season for all of them. The guys had consented to being in a BDSM club, sure, but they certainly hadn’t consented to Shane humping them. Not that Ilya thought Shane would. But Shane had gotten excited around his friends before, and Ilya really didn’t want to take any risks.

“And aftercare. Aftercare’s like the best part,” Harris adds.

“What’s aftercare?” Troy turns to him.

“It’s how you take care of each other after a scene,” Harris explains with a warm smile. “It’s kinda just like cuddling and hanging out after sex, you know? Like the emotional comedown.”

“My ex used to hate doing that stuff,” Troy laughs awkwardly as he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Really?” Harris’ expression falters a bit. “That’s awful. I thought everyone liked to cuddle after sex.”

Troy shrugs and scrunches up his nose. “I mean…I do.”

“Me too,” Harris replies, and they’re both smiling at each other this time. It makes Ilya smile, too.

It isn’t long before the guys start having to slowly trickle out. It’s a Thursday night, after all, and they’ve got a morning skate before their game tomorrow. Ilya could tell Shane was getting tired, too. His perfect sleepy baby kitty who was going pliant in his arms, his eyes half-lidded.

Ilya just continues to hold him in his lap while the guys come over one by one to say their goodbyes.

“See ya, Rozy. See ya, Shane. You rock, buddy,” Bood says on his way out, offering Ilya a drunken salute.

“Get home safe, Bood. You too, Hazy,” he comments as Wyatt strolls up. “Thanks for being so good about all of this.” Ilya feels the need to say, pulling Shane a little closer into his side.

“Course, dude.” Wyatt shrugs. “It’s obvious you guys love the crap out of each other,” he points out, gesturing to Shane, who is clinging to Ilya and is so wiped he can barely hold his head up anymore. “What kind of friends would we be if we demanded to come to your BDSM club and then judged you for what you do inside of it? We were kinda fucking asking for it, were we not?” He pulls a sly grin, and Ilya laughs. “Speaking of…are you the one I talk to about putting in an application for membership?”

“If you are serious, then we can talk after practice tomorrow,” Ilya promises, his eyes sincere.

“Aye, aye, Cap. Let’s win this one tomorrow, yeah? For Shane.” Wyatt raises his fist in the air, and Ilya rolls his eyes fondly when several of the other guys do, too.

“For Shane!”

It shouldn’t bring tears to his eyes, but it nearly does. Sometimes, coming out could feel like a never-ending battle. Something they have to keep doing over, and over, and over again. Coming out as friends. Coming out as gay. Coming out as a couple. Coming out as fiancés, and now, finally, Shane coming out as a sweet little kitten, and Ilya, his dedicated, loving owner.

Ilya knows it’s only half of the fight. He knows there’s still a whole world out there that they’re going to have to face eventually—a world full of people who may not be quite as accepting as the wonderful friends they’ve been lucky enough to stumble upon in this lifetime. But there’s something about it that still feels monumental, a massive shift taking place as every piece of the puzzle slowly starts to slot together and the big picture, at long last, begins to come into view.

It’s bright. It’s beautiful. It’s the cat-alyst Ilya needs to keep going. To know that he’s done right by Shane by bringing him into this world. Even if the best of it—and the worst—were still yet to come.

Shane is half asleep in his arms, but there’s a sated smile on his face that Ilya can’t deny, and even though he’s only mildly conscious of what’s going on around him, he seems content. Happy in a way he wasn’t when Ilya found him. The night feels like a success, and the future is so fucking vibrant. They’re not free just yet, but they’ve got more safety people around them now, almost to the point where Ilya barely feels like they need to break free at all. He hopes, for a while at least, that it can be enough.

-

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for the response to this fic series!! Kitten Shane is back in action. I have to be completely honest that I don't think I can keep up the pace of updating that I did for the first book of this series. As always, I'll do my best, but this story takes a lot of time, and I want writing it to continue to feel fun for me :)

I promise I have smut for you coming next chapter (hiiii horny halloween) and there's one thing coming up that you guys have been asking for a while!

Let me know your thoughts and your kudos, comments, shares are always appreciated! Feel free to follow me on twitter @sluthollanov if you want to join in my insanity over this fic <3

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Please continue to check the tags as new chapters come out. If there is ever a point at which you feel uncomfortable with the content of the story, I encourage you to make the choice for yourself whether you would like to keep reading :)

Shane had been pretty surprised when Ilya suggested he go with Troy to a nail appointment that he’d scheduled for them. The last time Shane brought up the idea of going to get his nails done with Troy, Ilya nearly lost his shit, but ever since Troy found out about the cat thing, Ilya has been a lot more lenient at the idea of having him around. Shane knew it was probably because he was hoping the same as him—that Troy and Harris would become similar to what Cedric and Ivan were to them. But then Ilya reminded him that it was Halloween, and Shane’s throat had gone dry, because apparently Ilya was sending him off to get Halloween nails. And that meant Shane got a small clue as to what his costume was going to be.

“Last night was awesome. I’m so glad we won,” Troy grins as he holds the door open for Shane.

A win against New Jersey: 4 – 1. A home game win.

“Me too,” Shane replies breathlessly, flushing and muttering out a thanks while stepping past Troy to walk into the nail salon. “Have you ever had your nails done before?” He asks when he notices Troy looking at all the different colors on the wall.

“Nope,” Troy laughs, placing his hands on his hips as he surveys the options. “My dad would’ve fucking killed me if he ever saw me with my nails painted.”

Shane furrows his eyebrows. “Well, it’s Halloween. You should get something fun.”

“Oh yeah? What are you getting?” Troy tips his head as Shane moves to show him a picture on his phone. “Woah! That’s what you’re getting? That’s so cool.” Troy looks back up at him in amazement.

“Ilya told me to get them like this. I think that means I’m going as a leopard tonight,” Shane shares shyly.

Though excitement burns in his belly about the costume, he’s a little nervous about being dressed up around the guys. He was scared of slipping too far, especially after unexpectedly coming out to them at the club. They’d treated him mostly the same so far, but it’s not like there was much time to interact while they were on the ice. Social situations were considerably different, and this one would be a little more immersive and harder to navigate for Shane in particular.

“Oh, wow,” Troy nods in acknowledgement. “So…um, Ilya picked your costume, then?”

Shane’s eyes go wide as his head snaps back to Troy. “No— I mean,” he winces, and then backtracks, because he had basically admitted to that, and his reaction just now has probably only made it seem weirder than it initially did.

“Shane, it’s fine,” Troy assures him, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s a Dom thing, isn’t it? You can tell me.”

Shane turns sharply when someone gets their attention to start walking them over to their manicurists.

“Look, it’s complicated, okay? And kind of weird,” Shane sighs, resting his hands on the table in front of him as he sits down. “Not everyone would understand.”

“But I would,” Troy reiterates. “Come on, dude. Seriously. I’m curious. Have I judged you on anything you’ve told me so far?”

No, but that didn’t mean that Troy didn’t have his limit. Shane just hadn’t found it yet. But one of these days, he was going to say something that would be sure to scare Troy off for good, and Shane just couldn’t handle that right now. He needed him too much.

“It’s nothing,” Shane mutters, shaking his head. “I mean…I don’t know. He just likes to pick my outfits sometimes.” He’s being mindful to keep his voice down, but the women across from them seem much more focused on setting up their stations than they do in whatever he and Troy are talking about.

“He likes to do a lot of stuff for you,” Troy notes inquisitively, like he’s caught onto the fact that it obviously goes much deeper than just picking Shane’s clothes.

“Like I said, a lot of people wouldn’t understand.” Shane shifts uncomfortably, and he’s thankful when Troy just hums and changes the subject.

“I still don’t know what I should get,” Troy chuckles when the ladies get to work on cleaning up their nails.

“Well, what are you going as tonight?” Shane sits up a little, now that he can let his guard down.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I was probably just going to pick up something last-minute on the way.”

Shane lets out a shocked laugh. “Seriously? No way, come on. Let me help you think of something.”

“Are you and Roz going to be matching?” Troy wonders aloud.

“I don’t know,” Shane admits. “Probably?” Because if he had to take his best guess, then yeah, Ilya was likely going as something to Shane’s leopard, at least if the nail design was anything to go off of. “What do you think Harris will go as?” He teases, and Troy blushes in response.

“I don’t know. Something hot?” Troy offers, holding his free hand up over his face while the manicurist works on his other one.

“I seriously don’t get why you won’t make a move,” Shane grins. “He’s obviously into you. Hm, what does Harris like? Maybe you can get his attention with your costume!” Shane realizes excitedly.

“Oh my god,” Troy barks a laugh. “Yeah, right. Whatever it is, I’m probably just going to look stupid. Besides, the only thing I know that Harris really likes is dogs.”

Shane blinks at him. Because, of course. The answer is so obvious. “You should go as a dog.”

“What? I mean,” Troy stutters. “That’s not a costume.”

“I mean…you could go as a dalmatian. Like 101 Dalmations? That’s totally a costume,” Shane suggests. “White outfit with some black spots. You’re probably not going to be able to find another costume at this point. All the Halloween stores are going to be sold out.”

“Shit, you think so?” Troy looks worried.

Shane shrugs. He didn’t know, actually, but there certainly couldn’t be a lot of good options left at this point. Luckily, Ilya had been in charge of handling Shane’s costume, so it hadn’t been a concern of his personally. “I guess you could always pick up a mask or something…”

“No,” Troy says decidedly. “I don’t want Harris to think I don’t care about Halloween. I know he’s really excited about his costume. He’s probably going to go all out. Fuck,” Troy curses. “How am I supposed to get a white outfit with black spots?”

“You can DIY it,” Shane says, happy to know the term.

“DIY?” Troy wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah. Do-It-Yourself. Rose taught me,” Shane smiles at him. “I think it would be pretty easy. You just buy a white shirt and jeans or whatever, and then cut out black spots with like construction paper. Maybe you could use eyeliner to draw spots on your face, too. So, you look like a real puppy.”

“Oh,” Troy realizes. “I forgot you’re, like, really good at this kind of stuff.”

“What?” Shane flushes. “No, I mean. I wasn’t thinking of it as like a…pet thing,” he lets his voice trail off into a near whisper.

“No, I know,” Troy is quick to assure him, but something does cross his face. Something akin to realization.

Shane clears his throat and nods to Troy’s nails. “You should get white with black spots. For the costume. Or they have skin color, too.”

“You usually get pink, right?” Troy looks at the grown-out polish on Shane’s nails that the nail lady is removing.

“Usually,” Shane agrees softly, but the leopard print seems fun to have for a while. Maybe Shane could try being a different kind of kitty cat.

But it wasn’t just the boys who were coming tonight. Some of the WAGs were coming, too. Which meant that Shane had to be on his absolute best behavior. His best human behavior. At least as much as he possibly could. Fuck. He wonders if Ilya’s as worried about it as he is.

He and Troy chat a little more about Halloween as they get their nails done. Shane is really hoping that Troy and Harris walk out of this evening with at least a conversation, if not a kiss, but he isn’t sure he trusts Troy’s ability to make a move. Maybe Ilya would be open to strategizing about how to make this happen for them tonight.

The sooner Troy and Harris got together, the sooner Shane would have a shot at playing with them, at least as a kitten in the club. The jury was still out on whether they’d be into pet play as a pairing. No pressure, Shane tries to exercise restraint, but the thought of having a puppy on the team with him makes him ache. To have a friend close-by who understands what it’s like to need this on an emotional level…well. Maybe Troy wouldn’t understand it like that, but it would still be nice to have someone.

“Wait, these are actually awesome,” Troy laughs, holding up his nails for Shane to see when his nail tech finishes up. “I thought it would look girly, but it actually just looks fucking sick.”

He’s grinning, and it makes Shane grin back at him. “I told you. Spots are cool.”

“Let me see yours,” Troy prompts, leaning over to take a look at Shane’s.

Shane lays his hands out for Troy to see, and the sight of the leopard print makes his tummy swirl in excitement. He feels like an exotic type of kitty. Like more than just your average house pet. No, tonight, Shane was going to be a fancy cat. A big cat. And big cats knew how to keep their cool and stay human. He was determined to succeed.

“Oh my god. Those are amazing, too,” Troy compliments, reaching for Shane’s hand to get a better look at his nail art. “I bet your costume is going to be so legit. I mean, after the club the other night? Rozy’s got style, man. I can see why you’d like him picking stuff out for you.”

Shane can tell Troy is trying to fish for information about his and Ilya’s dynamic again, but he still doesn’t understand why, so he ducks out of the conversation by standing to pull his wallet from his pocket, except—

Fuck. He doesn’t see Ilya’s black credit card. Two blue ones. A gray. But no black. Shane feels his heart in his throat.

“Shane,” Troy says next to him. “Is everything okay?”

Shane swallows and pulls all of the cards out to sift through them one by one. “I—um. Fuck.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Ilya was going to kill him. He’d been very intentional about giving Shane his card to pay for this appointment.

“Did you lose something?” Troy’s eyebrows pinch together in concern.

“I just, um,” Shane whispers as Troy steps closer to him, trying not to let his panic consume him. “I was supposed to pay with Ilya’s card. He gave it to me when I was on my way out, but I must have forgotten it on the counter. He wanted to pay for both of us,” Shane shares shyly. “He said it was his treat.”

Troy blinks at him a few times before a smile crosses his face. “Okay. I’ll pay, then. It can be my treat. And he can get the next one if he wants. You have to get these things done pretty often, don’t you?”

“Kind of,” Shane laughs in surprise, letting go of some of his worry. “But the gel makes it last a little longer. It just depends on how fast your nails grow.”

“We look so fucking cool, dude.” Troy whistles, taking another look at his nails as they walk up to the front to pay. He hands over his card while the woman rings them up.

Shane wasn’t sure that Troy paying for their nails was the best idea, but the logic was there. Troy could pay for this round, and then Ilya could get the next; Shane would make sure he had Ilya’s credit card next time. In the end, Shane still thought it was better to have Troy pay than to use his own card. Ilya had specific rules about Shane using his money, but they’d never explicitly discussed anything about gifts from other people. That’s all this was. A gesture from a teammate and close friend. One that Ilya could return next time Shane and Troy needed an appointment. No harm done.

“Um, thank you again,” Shane feels the need to express, cause he doesn’t know how much of this seems weird. Ilya picking his costume. Shane using Ilya’s card to pay for things. All that on top of everything else Troy has seen so far. Was it starting to pile up? Had they approached the threshold yet? “I promise I’ll get you back.”

“Ilya will,” Troy teases, while waving him off like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t made Shane’s whole week by coming to do this with him.

When Shane gets home, Ilya is finishing up making lunch for them, and he greets Shane with a smile.

“Hello, драгоценная принцесса-котёнок. Can you repeat it back to me?”

Shane pauses at the request, mouth open to tell Ilya about Troy paying for their nails first thing, but instead, he repeats the pet name back to him as requested.

“Dragotsennaya printsessa-kotonok,” Shane tries, and he feels warm when Ilya’s lips curl up in approval.

“Good job, baby. And can you tell me what it means?” Ilya asks next.

“Precious princess kitten,” Shane says with a flush as Ilya plates their meals. A protein salad for Shane, and a Mexican taco bowl for Ilya.

“Good boy. That was an easy one, but your pronunciation is getting much better,” Ilya compliments.

Shane’s sure it is. There were certain words Ilya had said so many times to him that Shane could probably recite them in his sleep by now.

“Here’s your lunch, baby. Want to show me your nails?” Ilya hums, placing their meals down at the kitchen counter.

Shane goes to sit next to him and offers up his nails for Ilya to look at.

Ilya takes Shane’s hands into his to look at them more closely. “Oh, these are beautiful, моя любовь.”

Shane’s heart thrums at the way Ilya is looking over each nail in great detail, like he’s taking it all in, or possibly just checking to make sure the nail artist didn’t make any mistakes on his perfect kitten’s kitty claws.

“You are just the prettiest leopard, aren’t you? So exotic with all your spots,” Ilya comments his approval, and Shane’s stomach swoops at the way Ilya is assessing him, his knuckles coming up to brush across Shane’s freckled cheek.

“So, I’m…I’m going to be a leopard, then?” Shane asks tentatively, because that had been his first assumption, but one could never be sure when it came to Ilya. He was known for his surprises.

Ilya just smiles at him, bringing both of Shane’s hands up to his mouth so he can kiss all over Shane’s new big kitty nails. “How much did it cost for these? Now that I’ve seen them, I am thinking of so many ideas for how to dress up my kitten’s claws.”

“Um,” Shane falters, cause he didn’t actually know how much they cost. Hadn’t even seen the number when Troy was paying for them.

“How much did both cost together?” Ilya tries again, like he thinks Shane has gotten stuck on the math somehow.

“No, I mean. I don’t know,” Shane admits, since there’s no point in lying. Ilya wasn’t going to see the charge on his credit card either way, and Shane had meant to tell him when he first walked in, but Ilya had distracted him with his sexy Russian professor bit. Shane wants to get fucked over his desk. “Troy paid for us,” Shane breathes out quickly, eyes darting up to catch Ilya’s reaction. “I know you gave me your credit card, but I forgot it on the counter, and I told Troy that it was supposed to be your treat, so he offered to get it and let you get the next one,” he says in a rush.

But Ilya is frozen in place, his eyes squinted just slightly, his eyebrows very nearly furrowed.

“You forgot my card, so you decided it was a good idea to let Troy Barrett pay for this nail appointment that I scheduled for the two of you?” Ilya clarifies, after a long bout of silence.

Shane shifts uncomfortably and fights the urge to pull his hands away from Ilya’s. “Yeah, um. Because…because I knew you’d be upset if I used my card. Right? So, I figured if it was a gift—”

“This was supposed to be a gift from me. I invited Troy. I wanted to pay for Troy. It was my intention to treat the both of you to a nice afternoon. And now you are having Troy not only pay for an expensive manicure that he did not even want, but you are also having him pay for your manicure when that is supposed to be my job—”

“He offered!” Shane argues. “And you would have been more mad if I used my own card, so I didn’t know what to do. I had to decide! They were waiting on us to pay!” He says emphatically, his eyes wide while he tries to make his case.

“So, you fucking call me,” Ilya bites back as he leans in further. “You call me, or you text me, and you ask me what to do. You do not just decide for yourself, especially when I have specifically told you that I wanted to pay for this. Jesus, Shane.”

Shane swallows and shakes his head. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. It made sense at the time. I didn’t mean to mess up…”

Ilya sighs, dropping his head for a moment, and then his hands are on Shane’s shoulders. “I know you didn’t, baby. But this is not the first time I have had to tell you this. If you are unsure about something, then you are supposed to come to me before making a decision. I do not know how much clearer I can make myself. The message does not seem to be sinking into your brain, sweetheart. So, what am I supposed to do here? Because it sounds like I need to do something to make you remember.”

Shane's face crumples as he nods quickly. Fuck. Ilya was right. It wasn’t the first time Shane had done something without giving Ilya a heads-up. Even before they had established their lifestyle dynamic, Shane had traded fucking hockey teams without so much as a text to let Ilya know. That wasn’t just bad sub behavior; no, that was bad boyfriend behavior. And Ilya wasn’t mad about the nails; mostly, he was probably just mad at what they stood for—in their dynamic and in their relationship.

“Let me make myself abundantly clear,” Ilya starts, gliding his hands down Shane’s shoulders to squeeze over his biceps this time. “No one should be paying for anything for you without my permission. I do not care if it is Troy offering to pay for your nails. I do not care if it is Harris who has bought coffees for the entire team. If someone is offering something, if you have a way to check with me, then you need to do that.”

Shane knew he didn’t really have to check in with Ilya if he didn’t want to. Shane could push back on aspects of their dynamic at any time if he no longer felt like participating, but Shane did want to participate. He liked the idea of Ilya paying for him. Liked the idea of going to Ilya to get permission to spend money, his own or other people’s. It was a turn-on. He got off on it. It made him feel safe and warm and fuzzy. He just actually had to do it, and truthfully, he had fucked up this time. He can see that clearly now.

“Yes. Yes, sir,” he nods profusely, all of a sudden overcome with a desperate need to prove himself.

“Good.” Ilya cups his jaw. “And if it is between Troy paying for your nails or using your own card, then you will use your own. I am perfectly happy to transfer the money over to you—”

Shane opens his mouth to speak, to say you don’t have to, but then he remembers that that’s the point. Ilya didn’t have to. He wanted to. He really wanted to, if the look he’s giving Shane is anything to go off of.

“No, don’t say anything right now, baby,” Ilya cuts him off before any sound can leave his lips. “You are not in trouble, but I am upset. I do not like the idea of another man paying for this.” Ilya glances down at Shane’s nails again with an indecipherable look in his eyes. And then, his stare zeroes in on Shane’s face. “I hope you know we are going to have to do something about this.”

Shane’s blood runs cold. Fuck. Ilya was actually going to punish him for this. On Halloween. When they had people coming over in just a few hours. How the hell was Shane supposed to keep it together this evening? Was Ilya going to be mad at him the whole party? Would he ignore him? Would that be Shane’s punishment?

Ilya must be able to read all of Shane’s thoughts over his face, because he cups Shane’s neck and gives it a healthy squeeze to ground him. Shane focuses on him, eyes searching.

“These are not punishments, sweet boy. But I do need to remind you of the rules if you’re not going to act accordingly.”

But all Shane can hear is the word punishment. Shane was bad. Shane made the wrong choice. Shane shouldn’t have let Troy pay for them because that was sending the wrong message. Shane was Ilya’s. That was the whole point of this. No one else should be paying for Ilya’s pet.

“Shane. I need you to calm down. I understand you do not like to be bad, but I have to find ways to correct your behavior when you disobey me. And for today, I am not talking about the nails. It sounds like we had a gap in our rules, something that has not come up before, but I have told you time and time again about checking in with me whenever you are uncertain, and yet, you continue to make these choices for yourself.”

Shane pulls his lower lip between his teeth and nods, nuzzling against Ilya’s hand for comfort. His behavior did need to be corrected, but it didn’t mean Shane had to like it.

“Why don’t we eat our lunch, and then we can talk about this a bit more, okay?” Ilya suggests.

Except now the sight of Shane’s lunch in front of him is nauseating. The thought of Ilya’s disappointment lingering in the air around them while they eat has completely taken his appetite. He knows Ilya will just be even more upset with him if he doesn’t eat, though, so Shane picks up his fork and forces the food down his throat.

They eat in relative silence. Ilya tries to make conversation once or twice, but Shane can’t find it in himself to utter a word. He drops his fork at least twice from how hard his hand is shaking.

Ilya places a comforting hand on his knee and squeezes, and then, after he’s done with his own plate, he just rubs Shane’s leg until Shane finishes. Or, at least until he can’t stop pushing the last final bites of his food around the bowl.

“You finished?” Ilya asks eventually, and when Shane nods numbly, he stands to clear off their plates. “Come with me, please.”

Shane rises like he’s headed to his own execution.

Ilya holds his hand as they walk through the bedroom and then on toward the bathroom. He’s rubbing the pad of his thumb across the back of Shane’s, trying to offer soothing touches as a distraction, if Shane had to guess, but Shane has a one-track mind right now. Failure. Disappointment. Correction.

“Now, like I said, this is not meant to be a punishment,” Ilya tells him, even though Shane’s heart is in his ears. “This is just to remind you of my ownership. I think it is something you are actually going to really enjoy if you can let yourself sink into it.”

Shane feels like he’s going to throw up. He doesn’t know what the punishment could possibly be, but right now, it feels like there’s no way he could ever enjoy it. Not if it’s meant to be a symbol of Ilya’s disappointment. Fuck. Was Ilya still upset over how Shane had handled his trade to Ottawa? Was all of this just pent-up frustration from all of the previous times Shane had failed at communicating something to him? Going to the club with Ivan that night he got assaulted. Showing up to Ilya’s house unannounced with no calls or texts for three days straight after shit went down with his team. Not trying to get in touch with Ilya once during that whole week Shane spent dying inside at the cottage.

Holy fuck. Was Shane a bad boyfriend? Maybe this was more than just a Dom reaction. Maybe this was an Ilya reaction. Maybe Ilya needed him to be better. Needed more from him. Shane feels like the ground is about to swallow him whole.

“Baby,” Ilya says with so much concern etched into his expression, his eyebrows drawn together in a way that makes Shane’s heart very nearly crack. “Sweetheart, why are you so pinched up? What is going on right now?” Ilya asks, reaching out to touch Shane’s shoulder, but Shane flinches.

He feels like there’s more that Ilya’s not telling him. More that Ilya’s not saying. He wishes Ilya would just spit it out, but he’s terrified of what he might say.

“Angel, I am going to call safeword right now and stop us right here for a second, okay? I am pausing our dynamic, just so you do not feel any pressure. Because the way you are reacting to this is scaring me,” Ilya expresses, and Shane swallows thickly.

Neither of them has ever actually used the actual safeword before. It’s been mostly just colors up until this point. So much so that Shane doesn’t even know what it means. Was safeword worse than red? Had Shane really pushed Ilya that far?

“I would like for you to come here,” Ilya requests, holding his arms out. “You did not do anything wrong. There is nothing to be scared of. I’m never going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. This is why we have our colors and our safeword, yes? Because this is supposed to be fun for us. Something we enjoy that adds to our life. And if that ever stops being the case, then I need you to tell me, okay? You never have to do this for my benefit.”

Shane hiccups a breath and shakes his head. “I’m not. I want this so badly,” he says quietly, before collapsing into Ilya’s waiting arms, the tears falling the second he feels them wrap around him. “I just want you to think I’m good. Not just…not just with this. But like,” Shane swallows, sniffling heavily. “Good all the time. Good for you. Good as your boyfriend.”

“Fiancé,” Ilya corrects him immediately. “And you never have to worry about that because you are the best in the world. You bring me so much happiness. And I know you do not understand what your submission means to me. I know you think that I give you so much, and all you do is take, but you show your love very differently, and trust me, I see every ounce of it. I know how hard it is for you to let your guard down, so the fact that you willingly give yourself over to me in every way possible means more than you will ever know. I see it as a very loud declaration.” Ilya pulls back to cup Shane’s jaw, his fingers scratching through the back of his hair.

Shane blinks away a few stray tears as he looks Ilya over. He’s so fucking beautiful. He’s watching him in that way he sometimes does, with his eyes completely locked on Shane and analyzing, waiting, trying to anticipate his every move. Trying to obliterate any worry before it comes.

“I just,” Shane whispers, wrapping his fingers in the fabric of Ilya’s shirt. “I don’t want you to hold onto things that make you upset because you think I can’t handle it.”

Ilya’s face falters. “Shane, no.” He cups Shane’s cheeks in both hands now. “I am not holding on to anything. I am telling you exactly what I feel,” Ilya vows. “If there is something I need to talk about with you, then I will bring it up.”

“But, you’re right. I have been a bad communicator. I should have…I should have told you about the trade, cause…you shouldn’t have had to find out like that from Coach Wiebe. I could have at least texted you to let you know. I mean,” he shakes his head, bringing his hands to his face as the tears well up again.

“Yes, this did upset me,” Ilya admits, as he rubs his hands over Shane’s sides. “But I meant what I said. Once you had finished your punishment, I was past it. You had made it up to me and, even more so, I knew that you really understood. In fact, the whole point of the punishment is to serve as a reminder if you ever find yourself in that situation again, hm? So you know not to do the thing that earned you the punishment in the first place. It is not to hurt you or to make you suffer or to have you feeling like you are anything other than my best boy,” Ilya clarifies, squeezing Shane’s hips. “I will never hold things over you like that.”

Shane shudders out another sob because he just loves him so much. He loves how Ilya accepts him for all his faults, how he wants to carefully help correct them by setting up little scenes for them that, more often than not, bring Shane an immense amount of relief in the end. Ilya never pushes his boundaries. He’s never gone past one of Shane’s limits. He’s taken every color in stride and has even used their safeword tonight himself out of concern for Shane.

Once again, Shane feels silly for getting so worked up at the idea of a punishment. He couldn’t help it sometimes, though. The want to be good for Ilya could consume him, because if Shane could be good for Ilya, then maybe he could trick Ilya into keeping him forever.

“Is there a reason you called me your boyfriend?” Ilya asks, eyebrows drawn together all of a sudden.

-

Because that was fucking concerning to him. Sure, he and Shane hadn’t been engaged for very long. Not even a full week, actually, but still. Ilya had struggled with not calling Shane his fiancé nearly every single day of their relationship. Because, in his mind, Shane was his. Permanently. Forever.

But the way Shane was talking…it was like he was convinced that there was something he could do to make Ilya not want to be with him anymore. Which was scary, and also, completely untrue.

“You know I am in this with you forever, right?” Ilya double-checks, gently pulling one of Shane’s hands from his face to get the other to look at him. “I know we are not married yet, not legally anyway, but this tattoo—” Ilya pauses to hold his hand up. “This means that I am entirely dedicated to you. This is more permanent than any stupid paper could be. And there is nothing you could do that would scare me off or make me think any less of you.”

Shane closes his eyes like he doesn’t believe him, so Ilya doubles down.

“Shane, I am so serious. You could literally murder someone and I would help you hide the body,” Ilya stresses, catching him by the chin. “If our dynamic is causing you stress, if it is making you doubt things between us, then I need you to tell me. I will not let our arrangement affect our relationship.”

“It isn’t,” Shane loosens the knot in Ilya’s gut by saying. “Fuck. I just can’t believe it sometimes. I keep waiting for you to wake up and realize I’m just a big hot mess and decide that you don’t want to deal with me anymore. I’m sure there’s someone easier to be with.”

Ilya crowds him against the bathroom wall until Shane is completely pinned against him. “I do not want easy. Easy is boring.”

“I thought you said I was boring,” Shane mutters, and Ilya has no choice but to kiss him intensely, maneuvering Shane’s face exactly where he wants it with the grip he has around his jaw.

When he finally pulls away, he does so with a gasp, and Shane’s looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. “You are the most interesting person in the world to me. Everything you do lights me up with fascination. I feel like a kid in a candy store every time we are together. I feel like you were custom-made in a lab, hand-delivered just for me. There is no one in the world who could ever compare to what I feel when I am with you, Shane. I will tell you in as many ways as you need until it sinks in.”

He’s delighted when Shane pulls him back into another kiss, and for a while, they just stay there like that. Kissing. Making out against the bathroom wall. Breathing each other in. Touching each other with their clothes on. It’s soft. It’s intimate. It’s everything to Ilya. These moments are just as important to him as the ones where Shane is crying and screaming his name.

Ilya picks Shane up by the hips, never pulling away from his mouth as he turns to place Shane gently on the bathroom counter. It doesn’t even strain his muscles anymore, picking Shane up. It just feels like a welcome comfort. Like it’s something his body was designed to do.

Shane keeps his legs wrapped tightly around Ilya’s waist as he places his hands on the counter and leans in to kiss Shane even deeper. With his eyes closed like this, he gets to experience Shane differently. His soft, slippery tongue. The little noises he makes when Ilya teases him with a nip or an extra graze of his scruff. The way Shane’s greedy fingers are always trying to pull Ilya closer, raking through his curls and tugging on the back of his neck.

Shane’s smell. So fucking sweet. And the way he gasps and tries to breathe through his nose sometimes when he doesn’t want to pull away, which is pretty much always. He glides his hands across Shane’s strong thighs and slips them all the way around to his gorgeous ass, where Ilya squeezes until Shane moans against his mouth. It’s the most delicious sound he’s ever heard, like music to his ears, and yeah, Ilya was never letting go of this. Never letting go of Shane. Not in a million years. Not in a billion different lifetimes. More, even. Higher than Ilya can count.

“I want the punishment,” Shane surprises him by saying, and Ilya pulls back to assess him properly.

“I thought we do not like the word punishment,” Ilya voices in confusion because his Shane could certainly give him whiplash sometimes when he was feeling like a particularly complex kitten.

“The reminder. The training. Whatever it is, I want it,” Shane gasps against his mouth, pulling Ilya in tighter with his feet linked around Ilya’s back.

Ilya swallows and nudges their noses together while rubbing over Shane’s hips. “I think we probably need to have a conversation about our dynamic before we do anything like that, sweetheart. I feel like some of these rules we have in place are causing you extra stress, hm? Maybe we should remove the part about me controlling your finances.”

But Shane sucks in a sharp breath and clenches Ilya’s curls tightly. “No. Absolutely not,” he says decisively. “I fucking love you paying for things. I think it’s so fucking hot. Makes me feel so,” Shane pauses to sigh softly. “Makes me feel so cared for. Fucking love when you take care of me.”

“All I wanna do is take care of you,” Ilya smiles against his lips, kissing them gently. “I just do not enjoy making you cry unless it is in the good way, драгоценный."

“It’s always in the good way,” Shane laughs into Ilya’s mouth. “Even when it’s in the bad way, it’s just because I love you so much and I’m so scared of losing you.”

“Well, you never have to worry about this. Because you’re not going to lose me. Even if I died, I would just haunt you for the rest of your life.” He means it as a joke, but Shane’s smile instantly drops.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Shane murmurs, and Ilya’s heart clenches.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers back, trying to look up at him from where their eyelashes are nearly touching. “I didn’t mean it. And…for what it’s worth,” he starts, pressing a kiss to each corner of Shane’s mouth. “I really think you would have liked the punishment.”

Shane bumps their foreheads together and huffs a laugh. “I thought we don’t like the word punishment.” He giggles wildly when Ilya starts digging his fingers into his sides.

“I really think you would’ve liked the training,” he corrects, before pulling Shane in for another kiss. “You are so fucking perfect for me, you know? I mean it when I say you could never do anything wrong because I know that you are never doing it on purpose. You are always trying to be good for me.”

“But the rules mean nothing if I can break them without any consequences,” Shane murmurs, repeating Ilya’s explanation from the club the other night.

Ilya raises an eyebrow. So, Shane had been present during that conversation. Listening, apparently. He loved to use Ilya’s words against him.

“Well, I do not like the way these consequences make you react. You get very upset, and I do not enjoy the idea of causing you pain.”

“It’s only at first. It’s…fear. It’s adrenaline,” Shane attempts to explain. “I’m trying to get better at staying relaxed.”

Ilya just gives him an unimpressed look. He’d had to use their safeword for the first time because Shane looked like he was three seconds away from imploding. Ilya doesn’t even think the idea of coloring would’ve occurred to him in that state.

“Okay, like I said, I’m trying.” Shane rolls his eyes, and Ilya fights the urge to bite his cheek. “But these conversations are helpful. You know? Especially with the way you said you were pausing our dynamic,” Shane expresses, blinking his big brown doe eyes up at him. “It just took some of the pressure off. I didn’t feel like I was going to disappoint you because you reminded me it’s not real. Or—” he backtracks. “Not that it’s not real, I just—”

“I know what you mean, baby,” Ilya agrees, because it could definitely be nice to remember that, deep down, at the end of the day, he and Shane were really just two boys in love. That, outside of the insane levels of dynamic they had built up around them, there was really something so pure and sacred between them. Intimate moments that, ten years ago, Ilya could’ve never imagined having with anyone, let alone his Canadian rival with beautiful freckles. “So, maybe we just need to take more time where we shut our dynamic off for a bit.”

Shane growls like Ilya has threatened to take something away from him, and it forces a laugh from deep within Ilya’s chest.

“Even if it is just for one evening, or a few hours here or there. A period that we dedicate to just spending time together. When you are not my sub or my kitten, but just my Shane,” Ilya hums, rubbing his hands over Shane’s hips. “My gorgeous fiancé, who I cannot wait to marry. And if we were out to the rest of the world, I would be showing you off as much as possible. Taking you out and posting pictures with you every chance I got. It kills me that I cannot scream it from the rooftops sometimes.”

-

Shane purrs at the idea of Ilya posting him on Instagram. Taking him out for a nice dinner, or lunch, and laying his credit card out loud and proud for everyone to see. So, everyone could know that Ilya was whipped for Shane. Because as much as Ilya owned Shane, Shane owned Ilya, too. He had him by the fucking balls, and sometimes Shane could forget that, but Ilya was also really good at reminding him.

“Can we unpause the dynamic now?” Shane questions hopefully because he was starting to get curious about what Ilya had in store for them. “I promise I’m okay. I promise I’ll use my colors if I need to. Unless…” Shane trails, since technically, Ilya is the one who used their safeword.

Ilya just smiles at him like he’s the cutest angel in the world and cups his cheek again. “I am perfectly okay to unpause it whenever you are, baby. As long as you promise to let me know if it ever gets to be too much.”

Shane swallows and nods, pressing a quick kiss to Ilya’s cheek. It was a good wake-up call, a conversation that Shane recognizes they obviously needed to have. And maybe it would help with his fear of punishments going forward. His training. Speaking of…Shane really wanted his training.

“So…” Shane trails, waiting for Ilya to take the bait, but he doesn’t budge an inch. Finally, Shane just rolls his eyes at Ilya’s expectant expression. “Can I please have my training now? Can you tell me what it is?”

Ilya grips Shane’s hips a little more tightly from where he’s still perched on the bathroom countertop, his hands gliding across Shane’s lower back, nails grazing up his spine and under his shirt. “I think you are due for a shave now, yes?”

Shane full-body shudders and nearly starts to go down from the thought. Holy fuck. Ilya had only shaved him one time before, but to this day, it was the highlight of all of Shane’s softest, most intimate dreams. The way Ilya had held him, caressed him, treated him like he was fragile, yet expansively vast. Like he was the most important person in the world. Maybe, to Ilya, he was.

“And then I would like to lock your pretty, hairless cock up in a cage if you will let me—”

Shane’s head drops to Ilya’s shoulder as he pants heavily, because suddenly, he can’t breathe. He tries to get control of his heart rate. This was what Ilya had wanted to punish him with. Punish. As if it wasn’t something that Shane fantasized about often.

He’d been to hundreds of websites by now. Had read every Reddit post, every blog entry, every Tumblr think-piece to try and get to the bottom of what people loved so much about cock cages. The control—his findings had overwhelmingly shouted back at him. The submission. The feeling of being owned. Shane knew that feeling better than anyone, but somehow, he still always wanted more. It never felt like enough. With Ilya, nothing could ever be enough.

“I am going to take that as a yes, sweetheart.” Ilya’s hand comes up to card through the back of his hair. “I am hoping this might be able to keep you from going down tonight, hm? To your kitten space? It can be very grounding for some people, but not for all, so I would like to try it with you while we have some time before people arrive. If you are taking well to it—if you are comfortable—you can wear it for Halloween later, too.”

Shane sucks in a deep breath while Ilya rubs over his back. He buries his face in Ilya’s shoulder and presses his smushed lips into a kiss against his skin.

“Are we clear on that?”

“Yes,” Shane whispers before he can stop himself because he wants it so fucking badly. He’s never wanted anything more in his life.

“Good boy,” Ilya soothes, and then pulls away to catch Shane’s eyes. “I am really hoping we can re-frame the way you look at these corrections. The last thing I want to do is cause you stress when, really, you are always so good for me.”

“I love you,” Shane tells him tearfully as his eyes well up again, and Ilya’s smile makes his heart flutter.

“I love you very much as well. I want you to have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“I do,” Shane stresses. “Half of it I didn’t even know I needed, but now that you’re here, I never want to let go.”

Ilya kisses him one more time and then carefully helps Shane off the bathroom counter and out of his clothes. He shaves him much like he did last time. A towel on the floor. Some electric clippers. Both of them standing up, facing the mirror so Shane can watch himself be doted on.

Ilya still touches him like he’s so, so special, and Shane keeps nuzzling against Ilya’s face from where it’s perched over his shoulder. Ilya smells especially good right now. Shane wonders if he’s somehow already torn into the bag of Halloween candy they purchased for the party later tonight. Maybe that’s why he was being so sweet.

Shane holds onto Ilya’s curls when he drops to his knees to finish shaving him with a razor. It’s a new kind because Shane hadn’t loved the one he used last time, so Ilya bought a whole host of brands that were supposed to be the best for sensitive skin. Shane can already feel the difference in the glide, and he lets his eyes slip shut to relax into it a little more. He moans softly when Ilya finishes by massaging aftershave lotion all over his pelvic region, even letting his hands slip up higher to massage Shane’s hip bones and upper thighs as well.

Shane feels small. And smooth. And cared for beyond belief. He’s smiley and sated when Ilya returns in front of him for a kiss. “I love you,” he says again, just in case Ilya hasn’t heard it enough lately.

“I love you more,” Ilya replies, giving him a peck on his nose. “Stay here, please. I will be right back.”

Shane sulks but listens dutifully by staying in the exact same spot Ilya has left him. And when Ilya returns, Shane’s eyes go wide at the sight of the soft pink cage in his hand. It’s silicone, and looks almost squishy, and Ilya has several different matching rings in his hand that seem like they vary depending on testicle size. Shane watches in embarrassment as Ilya selects one of the larger ones, giving Shane a smirk when he notices Shane eyeing him.

“My baby’s got such a big dick,” Ilya tuts. “Which is too bad because it’s pretty much useless, isn’t it? Don’t really need this for much of anything, do you?” He hums tauntingly, reaching out to give Shane’s cock a poke.

It wiggles dumbly in response, and Shane just pouts down at it before training his eyes back on Ilya.

Ilya begins to assemble it, putting together a few pieces that will allow the selected ring size to connect to the rest of the cage. And then, Ilya cleans it, which Shane appreciates, his tummy fluttering a little in excitement at the attention to detail as Ilya prepares everything for him. He dries each piece with a clean towel before opening one of their bathroom drawers to retrieve a bottle of Shane’s preferred brand of water-based lube. After that, he takes his time lubing up the inside.

Shane swallows because the sight of Ilya prepping the cage for him is already getting him hard, and if there was one thing he learned from his research, it’s that you needed to be completely flaccid to get the cage on properly. Still, he can’t look away. He can’t force himself to close his eyes even for a second because part of him wants to remember this forever. The first time Ilya caged him up. Locked him away. Slid the key into his pocket with a wink and a promise of nothing. Shane could suffer all night for all he cared.

Only Shane wouldn’t be suffering. He’d be buzzing, probably. He has no idea if it’s going to send him further into his kitten space or help to keep him present. Either way, he’s eager to find out. He just needs his dick to cooperate first.

Ilya looks over at him as Shane starts to bite his lower lip harshly. He’s hoping the pain will somehow make him soften before Ilya gets to him, but Ilya notices his predicament immediately, eyes dropping to Shane’s growing erection with a knowing smile.

“Look at that,” he shakes his head, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’re so big, angel. What am I gonna do with you?” He sighs, one hand on his hip as he surveys Shane.

Ilya steps forward to cup his cock, and Shane moans loudly, clutching onto Ilya’s big shoulders as soon as he’s close enough. Shane wants to fucking climb him, but he’s trying to be so good today. He needs to behave himself, so instead he just whimpers and rubs his cheek against Ilya’s stubbly chin.

“Most guys with a dick like this would want to do all the fucking, but not my boy. My boy wants his giant cock locked away under the control of his owner, doesn’t he? My boy wants to wear it until his cock starts to shrivel up. Till it gets so small that it no longer works anymore. You’d like that, sweetheart, wouldn’t you? If I ignored your big dick forever and ever? If I put all my energy into your greedy hole instead?”

Ilya’s voice is so slow, going up at the end of each question like he thinks Shane’s stupid. Like he has to make extra sure that Shane can understand him cause his brain is stuck in sticky-sweet honey land again.

“I—not forever,” Shane argues lightly, even though the fantasy Ilya’s painting is pretty hot. Giving himself over. Wanting and waiting for Ilya always.

“You know,” Ilya starts, leaning in real close to him now as his hands slide around to cup Shane’s bare ass. “Some people say that wearing a cage can make your ass so much more sensitive. It’s probably hard to imagine for my little kitten, who is already so sensitive, but there’s something about being locked up that makes pleasure everywhere else feel so much more intense.”

Shane gasps as Ilya squeezes him and starts to pull his cheeks apart slightly. “Everything with you feels intense,” he splutters out, rubbing his hair against Ilya’s shoulder as he noses along his neck.

“Mm, yes. And that’s because my Shane loves when I take control. When I can possess him in new ways. And there is nothing more possessive than holding the key to your orgasms. Than being the one to decide whether you come for me or stay restrained.”

“I’ll be good,” Shane vows around a hiccupped breath. “I’ll be so good. I’ll do anything you want. Make you so happy.”

“You always make me so happy, baby,” Ilya replies, and Shane can hear the smile in his voice. “Always so good for me. And that’s why I know you’re going to be able to stay up for me tonight, hm? Because every time you strain against this cage, you’re going to remember that that’s what I asked of you. That that’s what I want. And you want to please me, don’t you, драгоценный?”

Shane nods jerkily against Ilya’s shoulder, pressing a soft round of kisses there just to have an excuse to show his affection.

“How well you do tonight is going to decide whether you get to come or not.”

Shane whimpers and pulls back slightly to give Ilya his best sad kitty eyes because, fuck. He couldn’t control it sometimes. Like tonight, for example. Would he really be able to keep from going into his kitten space while dressed as a fucking leopard?

But no, clearly Ilya had faith in Shane’s ability to do this. Maybe he had a deeper plan because Ilya always had a plan, but recently, with the plane crash, Shane felt fragile. Out of control. Emotional, and reckless, and often that resulted in him slipping quite deep quite fast.

“You can still color whenever you want,” Ilya reminds him softly, and Shane lets out a slow breath.

“Yes, sir,” he murmurs, because Alpha feels too dangerous right now. He closes his eyes and shakes away the thought. Ilya would be Sir tonight, just like Shane would be a human. A human who was dressed like a leopard, even though he was still a kitty deep down.

“Good boy. Now, let’s get you soft.”

Shane has no idea what that means. All he knows is that Ilya’s warmth has suddenly disappeared from all the places they were connected, and by the time Shane can open his eyes, Ilya is on him with an ice-cold, wet towel.

“Shit,” Shane curses, grabbing onto Ilya again as soon as he’s back within reaching distance.

“Easy, baby. I know it’s cold, but you were getting too excited. I need my angel soft and as small as possible.”

The way he says it makes Shane want to start getting hard all over again, but instead, he just shivers and clings closer to Ilya while the two of them wait for his dick to come down.

When it finally does, Ilya reaches for the ring first and carefully starts to maneuver each of Shane’s testicles through the hole.

Shane bites down on Ilya’s shoulder to keep from going clinically insane as Ilya tucks his shaft under to slip it through the ring as well, and when Shane risks a glance down, he pants at the sight of Ilya fitting the cage over his softened cock and locking it up with a fucking key. Once the key twists, Shane drops his head back onto Ilya’s chest to rub his face all over the other’s skin.

It feels like Ilya’s got a firm hand around his cock even though he’s not touching him anymore. He’s just looking down at Shane in amazement, like maybe this is somehow doing something to him as much as it's doing something for Shane.

“All fucking mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

And Shane nods pitifully while sniffling as the tears start up. “Thank you,” he murmurs into Ilya’s neck while hugging him close.

“What are you thanking me for, sweet boy?” Ilya hums fondly as he hugs Shane right back.

“For—” Shane chokes out a quiet sob. “For taking care of me and looking after me and making me really, really happy. Like…way more than I used to be. I can’t believe it’s only been a few months,” he laughs wetly, wrapping his arms more securely around Ilya’s neck.

“Almost four,” Ilya whispers, like he’s been keeping count, but the number just sounds absurd.

Four months. Four months for Ilya to become absolutely everything to him. His moon, his sun, the oxygen in his lungs, the only person he could ever see standing by his side for the rest of forever.

“God, you look so gorgeous in this cage,” Ilya groans, pulling back from Shane slightly to look down at him again. He rubs his hand over the outer part of Shane’s thigh and then meets Shane’s brown-eyed gaze with a curious expression. “How is it? Is okay?”

Shane nods quickly. “It…um. It feels like…feels like you’re holding me,” he stutters out nervously, feeling frenzied with the way Ilya’s watching him. His dick flickers in awareness, but the cage doesn’t budge. “Is it gonna be noticeable? Under my clothes?” A part of him almost wants the boys to see, but he knows he has to be good tonight. He knows he needs to get better at staying up. He has to be the best kitty leopard human in all of existence for Ilya.

“Nope,” Ilya promises, ducking down to retrieve Shane’s boxer briefs from the edge of the bathtub and start helping him into them. “And if you ever feel like you want to take it off, you just tell me, and we’ll come back to the bathroom together. Okay? I don’t want you pushing yourself tonight. You use your colors, or you let me know some other way, alright?”

“I feel good so far,” Shane says a little breathlessly because it’s only been a minute or so, but the weight of Ilya’s cage around his cock was a welcome comfort. He feels like a man with a mission, and he’s wearing a constant reminder of that mission in the one place he can’t ignore. Especially when Ilya’s lightly calloused hands graze over his skin as the elastic band of his boxers snaps against his waist. He can see the outline of his cage against the fabric, but it’s probably not enough to be visible through his clothing. Well…depending on what Ilya had in mind for his costume.

But for now, Ilya just gets him back in his clothes and then has Shane come help him with the rest of the Halloween decorations.

Ilya has really gone all out with his purchases. So much so that by the time they’re done with the place, it’s starting to look more like a haunted house than it does their home. Shane just rolls his eyes as Ilya stands in the middle of the living room with his arms spread out proudly.

“So, this is a little ridiculous,” Shane feels the need to point out, eyeing the spider-web chandelier meaningfully. “And did we really need sixteen bags of candy?”

“Some for our guests and some for any trick-or-treaters since I’m going to leave a bucket at the door,” Ilya explains, rushing over to Shane to tackle him in a headlock. “Then, some for me.”

Shane shoves at Ilya until he can get away and then tries to make a run for the couch, but Ilya catches him around the waist before he can get very far.

“No, no, no. Do not run away from me, little leopard. You may be fast, but you are still mine,” Ilya reiterates.

Like Shane has forgotten. As if the cage isn’t still sitting on him like a heavy reminder.

“Can you tell me your costume now, please?” Shane begs, twisting in Ilya’s arms and falling back onto the couch while pulling Ilya with him. Ilya settles like a welcome weight on top of him, and Shane gasps at the way it puts some light pressure on his cage. He wonders if Ilya can feel it digging into him.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Ilya laughs in surprise, wedging his hand in between them to cup Shane’s caged cock. “Well, if you are going to be in kitty theme tonight, it seems only fair that I get to coordinate, hm? I figure even leopards need big kitty trainers to help them learn tricks and be good.”

Shane lets his mouth fall open a little, his cock twitching in interest, despite the fact that it has nowhere to go. “You’re gonna be my trainer?” He hiccups a gasp.

“Aren’t I always?” Ilya has the nerve to fucking wink at him before pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to Shane’s chin.

Shane didn’t really understand how that was a costume.

In fact, he still doesn’t by the time they’re fully dressed, but it’s hard to argue when Ilya looks like a vision in front of him. He’s completely shirtless with most of his chest on show, other than the tiny cropped, tan utility vest that barely covers his pecs. Shane guesses he’s supposed to be some sort of safari animal wrangler or something if the jungle hat and cargo pants are anything to go off of. The pants are slung low on his waist, probably because his sorry excuse for a belt is really just a rope, like he might have to suddenly spring into action and tie Shane up to keep him from acting out. God, Shane really hopes so.

Ilya’s arms look fucking big in that tiny vest, too, and dressed like a leopard, Shane badly wants to get wrangled by him. Shane feels pretty cool in his own costume, probably because it’s mostly stuff from Ilya’s closet. He has on a leopard print button-up shirt that’s been left mostly unbuttoned save for the way it’s tied in a loose knot at the bottom over his belly button. He has on a pair of Ilya’s brown jeans, too, and they’re so big that Ilya has had to roll the fabric of each leg to fall comfortably at Shane’s ankle. He feels like he’s drowning in Ilya’s scent, but the one thing that didn’t come from Ilya’s wardrobe is the fur-lined belt that hangs around his waist extra-long, so it’s almost like he’s got a make-shift tail wrapped around him. It’s a much better alternative for this evening than Shane’s usual plug.

Ilya is in the process of applying some glitter leopard face tattoo spots to each of his cheekbones, all before gliding some eyeliner along the inner corners of Shane’s eyes to elongate them and make them look more feline.

“While you were at the nail salon, I had Svetlana walk me through a tutorial of how to do all this. Was very informational, actually. I think I am getting pretty good,” Ilya says conversationally as he finishes off the look with a little shading along the tip of Shane’s nose.

Shane smiles fondly at him and tries not to move too much as his heart speeds up in his chest.

He’s feeling a tiny bit fuzzy when Ilya pulls out the ears, but the cage is still an ever-lasting thought in the background, and for now, at least, he finds it hard to drift all the way down like he normally might.

“You with me, Shane?” Ilya asks him as he fits the headband over Shane’s hair, adjusting it so the ears sit comfortably on his head.

He’s being more intentional about the way he’s talking to him. He’s not using as many pet names, like he thinks it’s going to bring Shane closer to the edge if he gets too mushy, but Shane’s alright. He secretly hopes Ilya drops the act after a drink or two. Usually, Ilya never drank if they were planning on doing a scene or if he thought Shane might be at risk of going down. Tonight, however, Ilya deserved to have a good time like everyone else, and Shane was determined to give him that by focusing on the cage and keeping himself grounded.

“Shane?” Ilya checks again, and Shane shakes out of his foggy thought bubble to form a response.

“Sorry. I—yes, I’m with you. I’m good,” Shane confirms with a nod.

When he receives a curl of Ilya’s lips, he turns to the mirror to admire his full look. The fur on the ears is a little more costume-y than Shane is used to, but it still makes him laugh when he leans in to admire the finished product. With the makeup detailing, he really does look like a leopard, and it’s different than how he feels when he looks like a cat. He doesn’t relate to this creature as much. He thinks it’s a good thing just as much as it’s a fun, different thing.

“This is perfect, Ilya. Thank you,” Shane hums as Ilya wraps his arms around Shane’s waist in order to duck forward and kiss him on the corner of his lips.

“You are very welcome, моя любовь. You make the most beautiful leopard,” Ilya murmurs into his neck while watching him in the mirror.

“And you make a fucking hot Indiana Jones,” Shane grins, giggling wildly when Ilya starts tickling his sides in reprimand.

“Hey,” Ilya growls playfully against his skin. “I told you I am big hotshot animal trainer. I am not Indiana Jones.”

“Mm, you’re right, baby. You’re way hotter,” Shane purrs, twisting in Ilya’s arms to pull him into a warm kiss. He’s delighted when Ilya lifts him onto the counter to kiss him some more.

-

“Troy!” Shane says excitedly as Ilya opens the door to reveal Barrett here bright and early for the party.

It’s 8pm, which is technically when it starts, but Ilya thought it went without saying that the boys shouldn’t begin showing up until at least 9pm. He’s so caught up in the timing that he barely notices Troy’s outfit as he steps right past him to greet Shane.

“Holy shit. You look amazing,” Shane gasps, his eyes wide. “Oh my god. You did so good.”

Troy laughs in appreciation, squeezing Shane’s hands tightly in greeting before pulling him into a hug. “The tutorial you sent me from Pinterest made it super easy. I mean, I already had the white tank top and shorts, so I just ran out for some black construction paper for the spots and a sharpie for my face. Then, I just needed the ears.”

Shane pulls away from him with a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to use sharpie on your face, idiot. It’s like permanent.”

Troy frowns, tipping his head. “Seriously?” He surveys Shane’s makeup for a second. “What did you use for yours?”

“Eyeliner.” Ilya steps over to them to wrap a possessive arm around Shane’s neck. “The leopard spots are a face tattoo.” The fact that Shane has very obviously played a part in Troy deciding to dress like a fucking dalmation this evening is not lost on him, but he keeps his mouth shut to avoid saying anything he shouldn’t. Like calling attention to the fact that Shane is knee-deep in his ‘Troy Barrett is a puppy friend’ pet fantasy.

“The costume looks great. You picked really well,” Troy says to Ilya this time, and Ilya raises an eyebrow at Troy’s awareness of the fact that Ilya has selected Shane’s outfit tonight. “And safari tour guide? That’s so sick.”

“It is not safari tour guide.” Ilya rolls his eyes. “It is big cat animal trainer.”

“I thought it was Indiana Jones at first.” Shane shrugs, pulling a titter from Troy until he catches Ilya’s expression looming back at him.

“Uh, no. I mean—” Troy clears his throat. “It’s totally giving…um, what did you say it was? Animal wrangler?”

Ilya tips his head in consideration. “Maybe that’s what it’s called, but it sounds very aggressive. Something is telling me my leopard will not need to be wrangled tonight.”

Shane shrugs and gives Ilya his best big kitty growl. “You never know.”

Ilya just smirks and tickles his side until Shane gives up the tough guy act. “Barrett, there is alcohol and some snacks in the kitchen. Feel free to help yourself while I wrangle this wild leopard.”

“Hey, hey—” Shane tries to get away from his attack, but Ilya is relentless. The weight of the key to Shane’s cage is still burning a never-ending hole in the back pocket of his pants.

By the time the next person arrives, Ilya, Shane, and Troy are already two shots deep, so Ilya leaves the leopard and dalmatian giggling in the kitchen in order to answer the door. What he isn’t expecting to find is Harris dressed as a sexy fireman in his entryway.

“I don’t know why I’m surprised.” He shakes his head, opening the door wider for Harris to step inside.

“What do you mean?” Harris asks, his big smile slowly morphing into a frown of confusion as he looks down at himself.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Ilya assures him, and he waits with his arms crossed over his chest while Harris enters to see Troy and Shane making crazy drink concoctions in the kitchen.

“Hey, guys,” Harris says as he walks further into the room, lifting his firefighter hat off his head in greeting.

Ilya watches in satisfaction as Troy’s mouth drops open, his eyes grazing over Harris’ arms in the black fitted tank top and sexy red suspenders.

“Oh, wow,” Harris laughs in amazement when his eyes land on Troy as well. “Great minds think alike?”

Ilya meets Shane’s excited gaze over Harris’ shoulder. Yeah. This was going to be a great fucking night.

One by one, the boys continue to arrive, until their entire house is full of hot, spooky people that, recently, Ilya would quite honestly trust with his life. He still wouldn’t trust them with Shane’s life, however, which must be why he feels compelled to shove through a sea of bodies when he sees Shane reaching for his third shot of the evening. It appeared that Dalmation Troy Barrett and Leopard Shane Hollander could prove to be quite the troublesome duo.

“Ah, I think we should slow down on this.” Ilya swipes the shot from Shane’s hand before he can down it, tossing the alcohol into his own mouth instead.

“Hey,” Shane huffs, eyebrows pressed together as he turns over his shoulder.

“Hi,” Ilya grins hazily at him, leaning in extra close to press a kiss to his cheek. “You are so cute, моя любовь. Very sexy as a leopard.”

“Stop trying to distract me,” Shane accuses, poking a finger against Ilya’s bare chest, but Ilya just grabs him by the hips and kisses him against the kitchen counter.

“Alright, alright. You guys are fucking adorable. We get it,” Wyatt shouts, throwing an M&M at them.

Ilya pulls away from Shane to glare at the other, but it’s hard to stay mad for long with how ridiculous Wyatt looks in his devil horns and bright red bathrobe.

“Hazy, what the fuck are you supposed to be anyway?”

Wyatt holds his hands up in defense. “What? Your text said Horny Halloween. How else was I supposed to make the Devil sexy?” He unwraps his robe and holds it open wide to reveal a pretty intense set of rock-hard abs as well as black boxers with little pitchforks on them.

Ilya glares when Shane audibly swallows.

“Plus, with this angel on my arm, I’m sure you understand why I need to show off the goods with easy access.” Wyatt grins toothily, pulling his girlfriend, Lisa, close to his side.

Ilya smirks when she rolls her eyes like he’s being ridiculous, but still happily accepts a kiss from their star goalie.

In all honesty, everyone’s done a pretty good job with their costumes this evening. Bood and Cassie are arguably best dressed as the Joker and Harley Quinn. They’ve done extremely well with the makeup and tattoos, and they’ve even gone as far as to act comically unhinged all night to remain in character, so Ilya has to give props where it’s due.

Holmberg and LaPointe are somewhat coordinated as horror icons Chucky and Freddy Krueger. Luca looks fucking adorably innocent as usual in his Woody from Toy Story costume, and everyone completely loses it when Dykstra comes in late from Halloween with his family, dressed as Sully, from Monsters, Inc., in a giant fur suit and head.

“Maybe we should get you something like that,” Ilya whispers teasingly to Shane, and then he breaks into hysterical laughter when Shane shoves him hard and glares in response.

Shane is definitely drunker than usual, but it seems to be helping him to stay human, at least, which Ilya is thankful for. He had sent out a text to some of the guys earlier today, asking them to please gently let their partners know about Shane, just in case he was to accidentally go down tonight. The only WAGs who are here, anyway, were Cassie and Lisa, who had already expressed interest in joining the club, so Ilya saw no harm in sharing this with them.

Dykstra, who hadn’t been able to make it to Drift’s soft opening, had already found out when the boys couldn’t stop making cat jokes at their game on Friday. It was all in good fun, of course; Ilya had made damn sure of that. Shane had been blushing like crazy as Ilya pulled him into his chest to playfully shield him from the attention, but for the most part, the news of Shane being a cat had gone over well.

“You two are fucking trouble together,” Ilya curses as he has to stop Shane from taking yet another shot with Troy.

“Come on,” Shane whines. “I never get to drink.”

“And why do you think that is?” Ilya raises his eyebrows, taking the shot for himself before crowding into Shane’s space. “Is it perhaps because someone is always wanting to go down?”

“I’m not the one planning elaborate scenes for us every damn night,” Shane fires back, and Ilya has no choice but to roll his eyes.

“Fine. I suppose I will just stop planning them, then,” he shrugs, while retreating slightly, as if it makes no difference to him.

Shane doesn’t even last a second before he’s pulling Ilya back with two hands around his bare abdomen.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Shane stretches the word, giving Ilya his best sulky face when he’s within reaching distance again. “Don’t leave me, hot Indiana Jones. Your scenes are the best.”

“Is that what he’s supposed to be?” Harris pokes his head into the conversation, with Troy, unsurprisingly, right at his side.

“Do you guys wanna do shots with us?” Troy grins, his eyes a little cloudy at the edges.

“What is up with you and the shots?” Ilya demands to know. “Why are you trying to get my leopard drunk?”

“Because it’s fun!” Troy giggles, especially when Harris offers him a mega-watt smile in return.

“He’s been making them pretty light,” Harris side-whispers to Ilya. “Each shot is mostly chaser with only a little bit of alcohol. I’ve been keeping an eye on it.”

“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Shane runs over to Troy to help him start chanting.

They’re pumping their fists and jumping up and down, and Ilya is shocked that Shane has been able to remain this up and this human while dressed as a leopard who’s still wearing his cage, but the sight of them in their costumes is too cute to deny, so Ilya reluctantly loosens the reins just a tad.

“Okay, fine, fine. But just so everyone is very clear,” Ilya says loudly, holding his arms out wide to catch the attention of the entire room before cupping his hands around his mouth to make a declaration. “I am dressed as a big cat animal trainer. I am not a safari tour guide. Nor am I Indiana Jones. I am the animal trainer of this big cat!” Ilya stresses, putting his hands on top of Shane’s leopard-spotted shoulders to give him a shake in emphasis.

“Okay, Rozy, we get it,” Bood calls back. “You can stop pissing in circles around Shane, buddy. No one’s trying to take him from you!”

“And I am the dog of this firefighter!” Troy feels the need to yell out for some reason as he stumbles into Harris’ side while breaking into laughter.

“Woah, there.” Harris reaches out to steady him with a hand on his lower back. “You alright?” He looks down at Troy fondly.

Troy just blinks up at him with warmth in his eyes and nods. “Fuck yeah, I’m alright,” he says breathlessly. “You look so good like that.”

“Like what?” Harris laughs, looking down at himself.

Troy gestures to Harris’ entire get-up in response. “Like…like that.”

Harris’ lips pull into a big smile. “You look really good, too. The ears are cute. I think I’m starting to understand Ilya more and more these days.”

“What about me?” Ilya demands to know, sticking his head in between the two. He’s got both arms wrapped around Shane’s chest while Shane makes grabby hands for one of Troy’s half-finished shots.

“Oh, just that you’re onto something with the pet stuff! It’s super cute!” Harris expresses, pointing to Troy’s dog ears.

Troy tips his head endearingly towards Ilya in slight confusion, like he doesn’t understand what point Harris is trying to make.

“Heyyy,” Shane whines, ducking his chin and biting at Ilya’s wrist on his chest to get the other’s attention. “I thought we were taking shots. And why is no one calling me cute?” He pouts deliciously.

Ilya bites into his cheek with a spirited growl. “Don’t make me have to wrangle you, leopard. But yes, of course, you are very cute. And yes, of course, pet play is fucking awesome,” he directs to Harris this time. “I never used to be into it either, but clearly, I had no idea what I was missing.” He squeezes Shane gratefully.

Shane purrs and nuzzles up into him in response, but he’s still human. He’s still being very, very good. Ilya wonders if the alcohol is making him forget about the cage. Or…maybe it was just time to give him a little reminder.

Ilya can admit he’s getting pretty tipsy as well. He usually doesn’t drink much around Shane because his kitten could be quite unpredictable, and Ilya needed to stay on guard, but he feels safe with the knowledge that they’re in their house rather than out at some bar or surrounded by people in the club. He feels safe with the knowledge that none of the guys would even question it if they needed to step away. He also feels confident that he’ll be able to take care of Shane if need be because he’s not that drunk. He’s only had two watered-down shots and a glass of vodka for crying out loud. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of a kitten, especially Shane, whose mood swings Ilya could practically predict in his sleep by now.

It must be why he maneuvers Shane until he’s crowded up against the kitchen counter, until his hips are slightly hidden from view, his cage taking on the unforgiving press of the cabinet in front of him. He feels the way Shane’s chest stutters as he sucks in a breath while Ilya directs his view to Troy and Harris across from them.

“Wow, so you weren’t into pet play at all until Shane?” Harris questions, his gaze drifting back to Troy, eyes flitting over him for a second before his lips quirk up affectionately.

-

“My Shane is quite convincing as a kitten,” Ilya hums, and Shane can feel it reverberating against his neck. “Lots of people in the club started asking for pet play events after seeing him be so well-behaved for me. I think pet play is often very misunderstood—it was by me as well— but there are a lot of different avenues to explore. I feel like I am learning something new every day.”

“Are you gonna finish making those shots?” Shane huffs at Troy, darting forward to try and grab one once again, but Ilya holds him in place.

“Excuse me, Mr. Leopard. I am in the process of wrangling you right now. Please be good for me,” Ilya requests.

“I thought you weren’t going to use the word wrangle. You said it was too aggressive.” Shane rolls his eyes.

“Yes, well, you are making me feel very aggressive!” Ilya shouts, wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist fully to lift and jostle him high in the air before placing him securely back on the ground.

“Okay, okay, here!” Troy laughs, shoving two, admittedly, much larger shots in their direction. “These ones are less watered down to make up for before. But um…okay. Harris has to take two.”

“What?” Harris’ eyes crinkle as he throws his head back in surprised laughter. “Why do I have to take two?”

“Just…just cause, okay?” Troy insists, grabbing Harris by the shoulder, but by the time he’s handing over the first shot, his hand has slipped down to Harris’ chest. “Just cause I made them for you, so you have to! Two for you cause you’re the best.”

Shane feels warm all over watching them. He turns in Ilya’s arms and grunts softly when Ilya presses forward to put pressure on his cage again. “Can I take my shot now, please?” He asks gently, a wave of submissiveness washing over him at the reminder. He didn’t need to be a cat to serve Ilya. To be good for him. He could do that while still being up and totally human.

Ilya’s eyes flicker over him in awareness, almost like he can sense the way the gears have started shifting in Shane’s brain. “Course, you can. My pretty leopard,” he hums, kissing all over Shane’s leopard-spotted cheeks.

Ilya steps forward to grab the shots from behind Shane. He presents one to him, which Shane gingerly takes, only for Ilya to make them link their arms at the last second. Shane doesn’t really know why, but it makes him giggle, so he does it anyway, licking his lips in appreciation after the liquid has gone down.

Ilya’s being really loose, less intense, more silly, and Shane feels really good, too. It’s nice to feel like a little bit of a cat, while also not. It’s nice to be around his friends who know exactly who he is and what he likes, without having to worry that they might see something they shouldn’t. It’s even nice to see Troy and Harris—

Holy shit. Shane digs his nails into the back of Ilya’s neck sharply.

“Oww,” Ilya groans, trying to flinch away from Shane’s painful grip on him. “What? What is it?”

Shane can’t look away, though, because Troy and Harris are kissing. Like kissing, kissing. It looks like Troy must have made the first move, given the way Harris is still standing frozen in shock. But then, in an instance, Harris springs into action. He pulls Troy close to him and tilts his head to deepen the kiss. And Troy just relaxes and sinks into it like he can finally breathe.

“Aw, baby.” Ilya squeezes Shane tightly while jutting his lower lip out in adoration. “Very good job helping them get together,” he says softly to Shane. “You did so well, angel.”

Shane’s heart is pounding in his chest as he soaks in the praise. He feels heat all through his body, but especially in his cock. He feels his blood rushing there. He feels his cheeks getting flushed.

Ilya ducks even closer to him, and Shane can feel Ilya’s hot breath against his ear as he mumbles, “Look at you making someone else want to be a puppy. Do you see the things you do to people by being the absolute best boy for me?”

Shane shudders. Fuck. Did Ilya understand the things he did to Shane?

“Woah! No way!” Wyatt whistles loudly as Troy and Harris finally pull away from each other, the two of them staring at one another, red-lipped and in shock.

But Shane can see the way Troy’s jaw has gone slack, his mouth parted slightly in realization. He can see the way Harris’ face sparks with something hopeful and new, like he’s just been given something he never even considered could be in the realm of possibility for himself.

“That’s Halloween magic right there,” Bood chimes in poetically, while staying in character with the Joker’s voice.

Luca sighs and shakes his head. “When’s it gonna be my turn?”

“Aw, Haasy!” LaPointe practically tackles him in a hug. “Maybe Freddy can help you…in your dreams!” He shouts evilly before taking off in another direction of the house, where there’s no doubt a million more over-the-top decorations just waiting for him to explore. Since Ilya has decided to buy out the entirety of the closest Halloween store.

“Not without Chucky,” Holmberg cackles maniacally as he chases after him.

“It will be your turn someday, Haasy,” Ilya vows, raising his beer to Luca from across the room. Shane doesn’t even know where he acquired the beer from, considering he hasn’t moved a muscle. He’s still pressed up against Shane, after all, but Ilya was sometimes prone to magic in that Shane didn’t really understand how he achieved half of the things he did. He was an endlessly rewarding conundrum that Shane had happened upon.

“Were you guys talking about pet play earlier?” Cassie sidles up next to them in the kitchen, just as Troy and Harris rush out of the room with claims of needing to get some ‘air’.

“When are they not talking about pet play?” Wyatt grins while he and Lisa step up to refill their drinks.

“Shut up, Hazy. I have rarely ever used the words pet play to you. You did not even know what that meant until two nights ago.” Ilya narrows his eyes at him.

“I’m just teasing, Roz, relax. I think everyone here knows you don’t play about your kitty.”

“I think it’s really interesting,” Lisa chimes in, and Shane can tell that Ilya instantly likes her, which puts Shane at ease as well.

So, Lisa and Cassie…not a threat. Shane relaxes into Ilya’s touch a little more.

“I mean, from what Wyatt’s told me, anyway. Which I guess isn’t much,” Lisa laughs good-naturedly.

“Well, you will find out soon enough at the club, but you are welcome to ask any questions you like. Shane and I are trying to be a bit more open about it. We do not think it is anything to be ashamed of. Right, котенок?”

Shane smiles warmly at him and nods. “Right,” he says intentionally, to show Ilya he’s still capable of using his words.

Ilya’s eyes sparkle with an unspoken good boy.

“How did you get into it? I mean, did both of you want to explore that, or was it someone’s idea first?” Cassie asks as Bood slides her over a fresh glass of the bloody punch Shane had helped Ilya to prepare earlier.

“Mm, it was technically my idea to introduce it, but I was just going off of what I thought Shane would be into. I did not know he would take to it so much. I certainly had no idea it was going to become such a huge part of our dynamic. But it seems I know my leopard very, very well,” Ilya teases, pinching Shane’s side to get a squirm out of him.

“And Shane was like…new to this sort of thing? Cause you’ve owned the club for a while, right? The one in Montreal?” Lisa clarifies.

“Shane was very new to it, yes. He was definitely looking to me to guide him. I have my preferences when it comes to kink, but I have tried many things over the years, and I am not really opposed to much. I have my hard limits, like everyone else, but for the most part, I was happy to help Shane explore what he wanted. It just so happened that we were very into the same things. Or perhaps, we are just very into each other.”

Shane grins and nods because he’s pretty sure that’s the answer more than anything, but still, there were definitely certain things about pet play that appealed to the two of them specifically. “I think it’s a possessive thing, too. Like…I dunno. Having a Dom is one thing, but…” he trails off cause he’s not sure if it’s appropriate to talk about being owned by Ilya.

“But what?” Bood prompts, and he looks genuinely curious.

“There are different levels to BDSM arrangements. Sometimes the control ends when the scene does,” Ilya explains. “And, other times, it can extend past the scene and bleed into everyday life. I think the dynamic of pet play—for us, at least—can be a bit more like that sometimes. Yes, Shane is not always a kitty—”

Shane frowns resolutely at that, but Ilya gives his hips a squeeze in apology because obviously Shane was always his kitten. Even during times when he technically wasn’t. But Shane recognizes that Ilya’s trying to divert from going through the entire inner workings of their TPE lifestyle dynamic.

“But we assume certain roles the way anyone does in a relationship. You know, how like…one person cooks, another does the dishes. One person pays the bills, another may clean the house. It is the same way in that there is a constant give and take with what we do for each other. The boundaries of what our dynamic covers may just be a little more widespread than the average couple.” Ilya shrugs.

“So, wait a second,” Wyatt pauses, his eyebrows scrunched up as he tries to process the new information that’s being said to him. “Give me an example of how that correlates to pet play.”

Ilya presses his lips together in thought. “Okay, well. Imagine Shane is a real-life cat and I am his very dedicated and loving owner,” he paints a picture. It sounds like he’s trying to be silly and dramatic, but Shane’s tummy flutters at the thought that he’s actually telling it exactly like it is. “I would not want my precious pet, who I love very much, going off on his own without permission. I need to know where my sweet cat is at all times because, otherwise, he could get lost. He could get hurt. If he is in trouble, how do I know where to find him? He could be lost. He could be in danger. He could be road kill for all I know.”

Wyatt barks out a laugh. “So, what? He needs permission to go out?”

Shane bites his lip because he actually needed permission for everything, but he highly doubts that’s what Ilya is about to say.

“It just means I like to know where he is at all times. Who he’s with. What he’s doing. Like Shane said, there is a level of possessiveness. I do not want him doing certain things, just as he does not want me doing certain things. Just as I’m sure you and Lisa have certain boundaries in your relationship. You would not want Lisa texting random guys, would you?”

“Hell no,” Wyatt agrees, his face pinching up in discomfort.

“Yes, well. It is exactly like that, only ours goes a bit deeper than that. Maybe if you found out Lisa was texting other guys, the two of you would get into an argument. Maybe if Lisa found you texting other girls, she would make you sleep on the couch. For Shane and I, we have rules in place that account for all these things. If the rules are broken, there is nothing for us to fight about. We already know what will happen as it is outlined and agreed upon in our dynamic.”

“Wow,” Cassie raises her eyebrows in amazement. “So, you guys have just…already planned for everything? Anything that could go wrong? Your communication must be like…level 100 or something.”

“I mean,” Shane chimes in lightly. “Not everything. But I think our dynamic allows us to be more upfront about what we want to get out of our relationship. You kind of have to over-communicate to stay safe. I think it definitely allows us to approach problems or arguments more effectively.”

“Plus, I’m sure your sex life is fucking awesome,” Cassie sighs longingly before looking pointedly at Bood.

Bood just blinks in awareness before zoning in on the conversation with a new level of focus. “Okay, so. How do you figure out what you like? You just throw on some cat ears and see how it feels? Help us out here, man.”

Ilya huffs a laugh. “Easy there, Bood. It can take years of experience to get to something like what Shane and I have. And I highly doubt you all are looking to go into it as deeply as we do, but if there is an interest in doing a BDSM deep-dive, I have already spoken to Ivan about doing an intro event with a variety of demos. We can hit some of the high points. Have an open panel where you can ask the demo leaders all of your pressing questions. It would be a good way to sample what’s out there without having to jump in headfirst without any prior knowledge.”

“That sounds really cool, actually,” Lisa agrees as she leans against Wyatt. “I have no idea if I’d be into any of this, but I’d love to learn about it! Especially if there’s something to be taught on the communication front. Every couple, vanilla or not, could probably stand to benefit from those conversations, no?”

“It definitely allows for better transparency,” Ilya confirms, wrapping an arm around Shane’s waist as he moves to stand at his side. “And if there is a want to try anything in the bedroom, even if it is nothing too out of the ordinary, it allows for much more open discussion. One of the first things we suggest when looking to get into BDSM is printing out a kink list for each partner to fill out. That way, you can see what’s out there, and you can know your partner’s comfort level with each kink right off the bat. Again, this does not have to be anything crazy. Maybe you just want to do a little impact play or pull out the handcuffs every once in a while, but having each other’s preferences listed out and discussed ahead of time really helps to make sure you are both on the same page.”

“Impact play meaning spanking?” Lisa quips.

“That is one option.” Ilya’s lips quirk in response. “It can mean paddles, whips, riding crops.”

Shane swallows as Wyatt and Bood’s eyes dart to him. “That doesn’t mean—”

“These are just things that exist,” Ilya cuts in before anyone can get the wrong idea. “There are things that Shane and I like, and there are things that we have not and will never do. That is what the kink list is for.”

“So, what about the pet stuff? I still want to know more about that,” Cassie expresses excitedly. “Is it just like…ears and head scratches? Crawling around on all fours?”

“Dude, head scratches,” Troy says achingly as he comes stumbling into the room. His lips are bright red, and his hair is disheveled.

Shane’s stomach swirls enticingly. He really, really hopes Troy isn’t messing around with this puppy stuff. Shane doesn’t want to get excited only to be let down if Troy’s not actually interested.

“Who the fuck wouldn’t want to get their head scratched? Is it really any different than being a human? Like, come on. What’s with the judgment?” He rolls his eyes and then turns to Ilya. “Can I please pet this super sweet kitty? I mean, look at him. He’s been dying for it all night, I bet. He’s so fucking cute, Rozy. Please.”

Shane’s heart picks up in his chest while he waits with bated breath for Ilya’s answer.

“Yes, you may pet him, but just be gentle, okay?” Ilya hums, surveying Troy like he’s trying to get a sense of how drunk he is.

“I am so gentle,” Troy says confidently with his hands on his hips.

He looks pretty fucking cute himself with his sharpie-covered black-spotted eye and his folded puppy ears. He looks like the exact type of pet that Shane would love to curl up with, or chase around, or go on a fun walk with around the park.

Shane realizes after a beat that Troy is waiting for him to give his okay as well, which Shane really appreciates, but also, Troy should know by now that Shane would always welcome a pet from him. He smiles and tips his head forward in permission, regardless.

“Oh, there’s my good kitten,” Troy smiles as he sinks his fingers through Shane’s hair, scratching behind one of his big leopard ears. “I could tell you were sad because no one was cuddling you.”

Shane hadn’t actually been that upset about it so far, but now that he’s getting a real nice petting from his favorite puppy best friend, fuck yeah, he wants more. He turns to Ilya desperately with one hand on his chest. “I—please. Please, can I—”

Ilya’s eyes soften at the barely uttered request, but Shane knows Ilya understands what he’s trying to ask right now. “Course, you can, baby. I told you you’re always welcome when it comes to Troy, but I appreciate you checking with me.”

Shane preens at the praise before catapulting into Troy’s arms to give him a crushing hug that nearly knocks Troy off his feet.

“Jesus,” Harris mutters as he slips into Shane’s previous spot next to Ilya. “They’re going to be the death of me.”

Ilya lets out a slow breath of a laugh before turning to Harris to smirk in agreement. “You have no fucking idea, man.”

Shane is nuzzling into Troy’s neck while Troy rubs at his back, the two of them trying to get as close to each other as possible while they let out a series of drunken giggles. Shane manages a nip on Troy’s neck, and he’s stunned when Troy gasps before biting him back on the shoulder.

Shane jumps in surprise at the unexpected display of affection, and for a second, he just sizes Troy up for a minute, trying to decide whether this animal is friend or foe. He turns to make eye contact with Ilya, who appears content to let this play out however it may, but when Shane’s gaze lands on Troy again, he feels nothing but excitement in his stomach. His eyes darken slightly when Troy grins and reaches to link their fingers together. Shane mimics his expression and meets him halfway.

“See, for my kitty, pet play is usually very affectionate. Lots of licking or nibbling. He can be very playful or silly. It is basically an excuse to give in to your more primal instincts, hm? We are all animals at heart; sometimes, it can be sexy to strip ourselves down to the way Mother Nature intended. Relying on scent or sound to guide our interest. Not having to put our complicated emotions into words. When you are a pet, you can just focus on feeling. If something feels good, you chase after it. If something feels bad, you reject it. Can be very relaxing to let go like this,” Ilya explains to their crowd of onlookers as Shane and Troy continue to explore each other like a puppy and kitty would, not inappropriately, just curious.

“So, this is where you take on the role of the owner, right?” Harris takes a stab at trying to understand. “Make sure he’s safe. Not going to hurt himself. Not doing anything that’s going to get him in trouble.”

“Exactly, yes. Because when he is in a kitten headspace, he does not always understand right from wrong, the same way an actual pet would not.”

“Like, what?” Bood laughs. “Piss outside of his litter box if he’s angry with you? Knock something off the counter? I thought cats were pretty harmless.”

“I have had to stop him from tearing up the leather of my couch before,” Ilya shrugs. “Sometimes he tries to bite people or does not understand the concept of personal space.”

“Lisa doesn’t mind if Shane wants to bite me, right?” Wyatt double-checks with her.

“Oh my god. I don’t know why you always think Shane’s going to suddenly awaken something within you.” Lisa rolls her eyes while offering Ilya and Harris a look. “I’m fairly certain he’s entirely straight, just so you guys know. I think his weird fantasy has more to do with Shane being the best player in the league than it does with Shane being a man. He’s been making these comments since before Shane even came out.”

-

Ilya just smirks in acknowledgement. He was quite used to his precious kitten awakening something within people. He had seen it happen with countless members of the club. Not to mention Troy, Cedric, Ivan, Harris, and now even the WAGs. There was something about Shane in general that just seemed to mystify people. He was the golden boy in more ways than just hockey. In fact, he was probably one of the brightest stars in the sky period.

“He’s not the only one.” Cassie rolls her eyes. “Zane’s been freaking obsessed with him for years. He made me watch that stupid workout video like a million times.”

Lisa laughs brightly. “I’ve seen that one. To be fair, though, I did try the yoga routine, and it totally relieved some of the pressure in my lower back. Plus, it opened my hips up a lot, too. So, you know. Thanks for that, Shane.”

“Thank you, Shane,” Wyatt whispers up at the sky in prayer.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Harris cuts in with a disbelieving laugh. “Are you saying there’s a workout video of Shane, and Zane and Wyatt have been watching it? Like, often?”

Cassie and Lisa give each other knowing looks in amusement.

“Oh, like all the time,” Lisa nods. “Wyatt works out with it. Says it motivates him.”

Ilya raises his eyebrows and turns to Wyatt. “Works out with it how often would you say?”

“Once a week? That I’ve noticed. But I work long hours at the hospital, so. It could be more,” Lisa replies with a shrug.

“Zane is always watching that home tour one, too.”

“Hey, not always,” Bood argues.

“The one of his cottage? Yeah, I’ve seen that one.” Lisa cackles.

“Okay, yeah, maybe like one time. Only cause it just came out,” Wyatt clarifies.

“Yeah, we were literally waiting on the premiere of it,” Lisa recalls. “The little YouTube timer still said 3 minutes, so we just waited for it to come out.”

She and Cassie are in stitches as they relay their shared experiences, but Ilya just furrows his eyebrows slightly as he looks between Bood and Wyatt. Before he can react any further, though, Shane is rushing past him with Troy in tow, and Ilya turns sharply in inquiry. “Ah, excuse me. Where are you going?” Ilya calls over his shoulder.

“I have to go to the bathroom, so Troy is coming with me!” Shane shouts back.

“Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not.” Ilya strides out of the kitchen to rush after them.

Aside from the fact that there was no reason whatsoever they needed to go to the bathroom together, Shane was also in a cock cage, and that meant that he wasn’t going to be able to pee standing up unless he wanted to piss all over himself. Something tells Ilya it’s not a revelation Shane’s going to want to come to with Troy in the room.

“Shane,” Ilya says sternly, stopping to cross his arms over his chest. “Can I talk to you alone for a second?”

Shane instantly pauses, and Ilya can see the way concern slips across his leopard features.

“Is that okay?” Ilya repeats, tipping his head when Shane still hasn’t reacted in the slightest.

“I’m gonna go see if Harris wants to kiss again,” Troy whispers loudly before rushing off back in the direction of the kitchen.

“You are not in trouble, little leopard. Can I come to the bathroom with you?” Ilya offers, reaching to link his fingers with Shane’s.

Shane’s expression loosens a bit as his lips pull into a smile. “Okay. I really do have to pee, though. Like right now.”

“Then, let’s go pee. Like right now.” Ilya smiles back at him, tugging Shane in the direction of their bedroom.

When they get to the master bathroom, Ilya carefully shuts the door behind them and leans against the wall as Shane starts to undo his belt.

“What did you want to talk about?” Shane asks, and he’s obviously struggling to unhook the belt with all the fur in the way, so Ilya steps forward to help him.

“Mm, mostly I just figured you might need some help in here,” Ilya admits, getting the metal prongs out of the holes to pull the belt loose.

“Need help?” Shane’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “With what?”

“With peeing,” Ilya answers, working to unbutton Shane’s jeans now and push them down his thighs. “You are going to have to sit down to go to the bathroom.”

Ilya watches as Shane’s life flashes resolutely before his eyes, the realization settling over his features deliciously.

-

Shane had nearly fucking forgotten about the cage. He’d been so caught up in playing with Troy, in drinking, in having a good time, that he’d barely even noticed it for most of the evening. Not until Ilya started to call attention to his predicament by pressing Shane’s hips into the counter and reminding him of who was in charge.

Shane’s throat feels thick when Ilya tugs his boxers down too, revealing the sight of his dick kept and locked away in a pretty pink cage.

It looks small. Smaller than Shane’s maybe ever seen it. Compact. Neat and tidy. It’s cute, almost. It makes him feel cute as well.

“I can’t do it standing up?” Shane sucks in a breath, meeting Ilya’s gaze to assess his eyes for confirmation one way or the other.

“If you would like to make an absolute mess, you may…” Ilya trails, lifting his shoulders in indifference like it's Shane’s right to decide.

Shane swallows and glances back down at his dick; then, the toilet. He looks helplessly over to Ilya once more before finally coming to terms with his fate, a mix of defeat and acceptance washing over him.

“You remember why we’re doing this, don’t you, baby?” Ilya’s soothing voice permeates the hazy air around them.

Shane thinks the alcohol is starting to mess with his head. Either that, or he’s getting even more drunk off Ilya’s words.

“We are doing this so you remember who you belong to. Because you have been having some trouble with communication lately, yes?”

“Yes,” Shane gasps, feeling his cheeks start to heat up at the way Ilya is talking to him. At the way Ilya is looking at his cock. “But I’m going to do so much better. I promise I’m going to be so good.”

“You are so good for me, мой большой котик. You are good for me always. You have been on your best behavior all evening. You have stayed out of your kitten space just like I asked, hm?” Ilya’s lips curl up at the corners. “Now, sit down and go pee for me. I want to watch you.”

Shane’s dick throbs in a way that makes him want to fall to the floor at Ilya’s feet. Ilya is still looking at him expectantly, his arms crossed over his chest like Shane is wasting his time. Like he’s making him wait unnecessarily.

“Sometime today, angel. I do not want to be gone from the party for too long,” Ilya encourages him with a nod. “You said you had to pee, didn’t you?”

Shane shakes himself out of his stupor and springs into motion, nearly tripping over himself with the way his jeans and boxers are still bunched around his knees. His cheeks are flaming red as he sits down on the toilet.

He’s peed around Ilya before, obviously. He’s even peed with Ilya one time when Ilya couldn’t wait his turn, so instead, he went at the same time as Shane and tried to cross streams. But this is much different. This is sitting down to pee. Ilya staring at him with the key to Shane’s cage right in his back pocket. Shane is having so much performance anxiety that he isn’t even sure he’ll be able to go, despite the fact that he was aching for it just minutes prior.

He closes his eyes and tries to picture that he’s alone, thinking maybe that will help, but all it does is just make the cage feel that much more present. That much heavier on his cock. It feels like it’s tightening. Shane burns with the realization that it’s because his dick is trying to get hard.

“Am I making you nervous, sweetheart? Do you want me to wait outside?” Ilya’s strong accent rings through the air. It gets thicker when he’s been drinking, and since he doesn’t usually drink much around Shane, Shane never really has the pleasure of hearing it like this.

Sometimes, Ilya’s accent could be stronger in the mornings when he was barely awake. His first words of the day were often in Russian—muddled with sleep and pressed into Shane’s ear. Shane would shudder with the force of it. The warmth of Ilya’s breath mixed with the vibrato of his lungs against Shane’s back. Their bodies glued in a line together. Ilya’s arms like a furnace around him.

Shane lets out a small whimper, but it turns to a gasp at the sudden feeling of a hand in his hair.

“Hey, just relax for me, yeah? Think of something peaceful,” Ilya instructs, scratching his fingernails just right over Shane’s scalp.

All of Shane’s tension instantly flows out of his body as all of his safety signals kick in. Ilya’s cologne. The weight of his hand on Shane’s head. The remnants of his instructions still wavering through the air.

Shane’s urine starts to flow out of him before he’s even mentally aware of it. He’s so tethered to Ilya’s presence at his side, the way Ilya hasn’t stopped moving his fingers, the way he recognizes that Shane doesn’t want to be made fun of right now, even though, sometimes, if he were in the right mood, it could sort of turn him on.

“Good boy,” Ilya murmurs softly, giving Shane’s hair another appreciative rub. “You’re mine, aren’t you? Tell me.”

Shane inhales slowly as he continues to pee. His eyes are still closed. He’s terrified to open them, to see the way Ilya must be looking at him. “I’m yours.” And he feels the cage around him solidifying it. He was completely Ilya’s right now. Ilya held the key to a part of his body. His most sensitive organ, the one that controlled pleasure, and pain, and apparently fucking piss.

Shane drops his head forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.

But then Ilya is crouching down next to him and rubbing his back, squeezing the back of his neck, touching him all over. Fuck, Shane wants to suck him off so badly. Wants to sit here on the toilet just like this and have Ilya slowly nudge his cock down Shane’s throat. He wants to nurse on it for a second, to feel the weight of it on his tongue, the flavor of Ilya on his taste buds. And then he wants Ilya to fuck his throat until it’s raw, until Shane’s voice is so ruined that he has to rest it all day tomorrow, and Ilya is forced to speak for him. During morning practice. At the game. Later with Cedric and Ivan. Shane just wants to be a voiceless, thoughtless, obedient pet at his side.

Shane whines as the last few drops trickle out of him. He can feel himself dripping against the cage, but Ilya is an everlasting comfort in his ear.

“You did so good for me. Absolutely perfect,” Ilya praises, his voice gentle but solid. “I’m going to give you exactly what you need later, okay? As long as you’re good for me, I’m going to be good to you. You are doing everything I asked for this evening, and I am very, very happy because of it.”

Shane sits up to pull him into a hug because he needs Ilya closer. He feels so needy right now. He wants Ilya to climb on top of him and hold him down, suffocate him until all Shane knows is the weight of Ilya on his chest.

“Oh, hi, precious,” Ilya coos at him, wrapping Shane up in his muscular arms.

If Shane were a cat right now, he’d be purring, but Ilya is telling him everything he wants to hear, and he doesn’t want to risk messing up by slipping this close to the end of the night. It was getting late, after all, and they still had morning practice before their game tomorrow, which probably meant the party would be wrapping up pretty soon.

Shane doesn’t want to let go of Ilya, but eventually, Ilya reluctantly pulls away to help him stand and get cleaned up. Shane tries not to get too emotional when Ilya wipes his cage with extreme detail, being extra careful to make sure he doesn’t jostle Shane’s cock unnecessarily. Shane pulls him into a warm kiss after Ilya gets his jeans up and buckles him resolutely into his belt.

Ilya hums into his mouth happily, which makes Shane feel gooey all over. He can’t believe he’s kissing his soon-to-be husband. He can’t believe they share a house now, a team, one fucking soul, it could seem, at times.

Shane cups Ilya’s jaw to pull him closer, licking tenderly into his mouth as Ilya sucks on his tongue in response. It makes Shane a little weak in the knees, but Ilya just grips him more firmly at the waist. You’re okay, the action tells him affectionately.

I love you, Shane tries to kiss back in response.

He thinks Ilya must get the message if the look he gives him after they pull away is anything to go off of.

-

After another hour or so of socializing, the last few remaining Centaurs start to make their way towards the exit. It’s mostly just Troy and Harris who have decided to linger behind, almost like they’re looking for an excuse to keep hanging out with each other. Any other time, Ilya might have the patience to explain that they’re more than welcome to retreat to either one of their houses after this, but right now, he has a slutty little caged-up leopard that needs tending to, and admittedly, a one-track mind.

“Thank you sooo much for having us,” Troy slurs as he attempts to grab onto Ilya.

Shane actually fucking growls when he tries to get close, so Ilya just pulls Shane in front of him to ensure Troy keeps his distance, but the only thing that achieves is Troy wrapping his arms around both of them in a big, bear hug.

Troy sighs happily. “I love you guys so much. You fucking rock, you know that? Like, how fucking cool is this? Halloween with all my gays.”

Ilya grins when Shane laughs and sinks forward to press his nose into Troy’s neck.

“You’re going to come to the club tomorrow, right?” Shane murmurs, brushing his hair softly against Troy’s jaw.

Ilya tries to avert his eyes. He feels like he’s intruding on a private moment, and this probably shouldn’t be getting him half-hard in his jeans right now, but it is. He tells himself it’s just because of Shane’s costume. He tells himself it’s just because of the way Shane’s cock has been locked up in a pretty little cage for the entire night. But deep down, he knows a new aspect of their relationship is blooming right in front of him. He knows that their playdate with Ivan tomorrow could change things permanently going forward.

There would always be boundaries, of course. Ilya has no interest in sharing his Shane. But he couldn’t deny that seeing Shane with others did something to him. It was like watching porn that had been crafted specifically for him, like it was made to his exact preferences, designed to get him off in the perfect way. And naturally, Ilya’s preferred type of porn would always star his favorite hockey player of all time, Mr. Shane Hollander. And since Ilya found Shane’s kitten tendencies to be particularly mouth-wateringly delicious, he definitely couldn’t deny that it felt all too good to watch his Shane lose himself in the presence of another pet.

“Yup,” Troy hums, shutting his eyes as he grips onto just Shane this time, Ilya slyly pulling away from the duo to try and keep his increasingly obvious erection to himself. “You have your playdate with Ivan, right? After the game?”

Shane takes what Ilya thinks is meant to be a discreet inhale of Troy’s scent before nodding against him. “Yeah.” He brushes his chin over Troy’s shoulder. “But Ilya said you can come still. It’s the official opening first. The playdate is, like, later in the night.”

Troy smiles and pulls away to look at Shane properly. “Are you and Ivan going to be wearing your ears? Maybe I should wear mine,” he jokes, but Ilya can see the undercurrent of truth in his voice.

“I do not want you wearing ears at the club unless you have someone to keep an eye on you,” Ilya voices lightly in concern, because he’s seen how Troy could get when he was around Shane, and Shane was certainly known for being able to lure others down into his very convincing pet space.

“Oh, uh. Is it cool if I go?” Harris offers himself up awkwardly, but Ilya feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. “I mean, I’m happy to hang out with him. Make sure he’s okay or...” Harris’ eyes drift to Troy. “Whatever he needs.”

If Harris and Troy were really ready to start giving their feelings a proper exploration, then maybe Ilya would actually be able to let Shane have this. Another pairing he could be totally himself around. A person on their team, someone who would have Shane’s back no matter what—on and off the ice. And it couldn’t hurt to have another Dom to talk to, either. Ilya liked Harris; he liked him a lot. And he especially liked the fact that they were building quite the community around themselves. Their team was shaping up to be everything he had hoped for and so much more.

“Absolutely. I think that’s a great idea. Actually, Harris—” Ilya jerks his head in Troy’s direction. “You should probably make sure Troy gets in his Uber alright.”

“Oh, that’s not an issue. I’m just going to drive him home,” Harris beams warmly. “Right, Barrett?” He teases.

“Heyyy,” Troy whines around a huff, letting go of Shane to playfully punch at Harris’ chest. “I told you. I like it when you call me Troy.”

Harris laughs in delight. “So, should I just call you Barrett in the locker room, then?”

“You should call me Troy always. In the locker room or…in my room…or…” Troy lists off, eyebrows furrowed together as he loses his train of thought.

Ilya barely has time to react before Shane is collapsing heavily into his arms, causing Ilya to stumble back a bit at the force of him. “Oof. Hello there, маленький леопард. Are you that tired already?”

But the way Shane growls lowly and bites him in response tells Ilya that Shane is actually not tired at all. In fact, Ilya would be willing to bet he’s the exact opposite of tired with the way that cage must be weighing on him after going so many hours restrained.

When the door shuts resolutely behind Troy and Harris, Ilya bends down to throw Shane over his shoulder while still being extremely mindful of his cage.

Shane lets out a smooth mrowl like a leopard might, and Ilya grins at the idea of getting to roleplay this a bit.

“I am sorry, Mr. Leopard. You have breached containment, and I was brought in to wrangle you and take you to my big cat animal training school.”

Shane twists in his arms like he’s trying to get away, but Ilya knows he’s not very far down right now. The cock cage has been a surprisingly good distraction so far. If Ilya had to guess, anyway. He’d have to get full confirmation from Shane later, whenever his boy was done dissecting the experience from every angle before coming to an overall conclusion with his thoughts on the matter.

“I do not have time for your squirming. I have to get you trained up very quickly if you expect to graduate from my training school. My school is only for the best of the best, you see. I cannot have any kitty cat causing trouble and messing up my good name. Not every kitty is worthy of wearing Rozanov across their back, after all.”

Ilya has no idea where he’s going with this plotline, but as usual, Shane is incredibly receptive to the picture he’s painting. Ilya carefully sets him down on the bed when he makes it to their bedroom, and then Shane is watching him with wanting, waiting eyes.

“Why don’t you take your shirt off for me, baby?” Ilya tries out, because he feels like giving a command.

Maybe the cock cage hadn’t physically affected Shane as much with all the other stimulation from the party, but Ilya would be willing to bet it was still rather mentally stimulating. Especially with the sudden awareness that he’s been locked away this entire night, unbeknownst to all of their guests this evening. And Ilya still held the key in his pocket, the one thing standing between Shane and an orgasm. A real one, at least.

Shane looks like a leopard possessed as he moves at lightning speed to strip out of his (Ilya’s) spotted button-up.

“Mm, let’s try a little slower next time, yes? I know you are a leopard, and you are very fast, but I need to make sure you are doing things correctly to your training,” Ilya tells him, slipping into that voice that can always make Shane’s eyes go half-lidded. “Plus, you are very pretty. I want to look at you and all your perfect spots.”

Ilya takes in Shane’s cute glitter tattoos on his cheeks. He would have to be very gentle when removing those before they went to bed tonight. Shane’s inner corner eyeliner has smeared a bit, but he still looks like the most devastatingly gorgeous creature to walk this Earth.

Ilya pulls the soft cotton rope belt from around his waist and watches as Shane’s brown, doe eyes slowly widen in response.

“Can you tell me your color, sweetheart?” Ilya tips his head, looking down at the piece of rope in his hands before glancing back up at Shane.

“I—I’m a little tipsy,” Shane blurts out, and Ilya pauses for a moment, letting the rope drop down to the bed in front of him.

“Okay. That’s okay. Would you like to stop for the evening?”

“No,” Shane shakes his head fervently. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant, um. I just…I thought I should tell you.”

Ilya’s lips curl into a soft smile. “I know you are not completely sober, but I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, baby. You seem very lucid, and you have not had a drink in over an hour. Do you think you will be capable of using your colors if you need to?”

He receives a jerky nod in return. “Yes. I’m green,” Shane breathes out, shifting in his spot on the bed.

“Good boy,” Ilya praises. “Why don’t you get yourself out of your pants for me, hm?” He suggests next, watching as Shane scrambles to complete the request. “Slowly, remember? Boxers, too.”

Shane takes the instruction in stride, slowing his movements down to the pace of a snail, which Ilya greatly appreciates. His boy is all caged up and putting on a show for him. Ilya picks the rope back up and idly wraps it around either of his hands as he waits for Shane to finish.

“That’s very pretty, leopard. You are taking your training so well,” Ilya compliments, keeping his voice level and low. “Now, are you going to be okay if I tie your wrists? I need you to stay up enough to let me know if you are experiencing any discomfort. Do you think you can do that?”

Shane is fully naked now, save for his pretty, pink cock cage, and Ilya can’t help looking him over in a mix of appreciation and hunger. He looks more seductive than all of Ilya’s wet dreams combined. He’s still got his leopard ears on, and his skin is flushed deliciously pink, possibly from the alcohol or maybe just from whatever Ilya’s commands are doing to him.

“I’m green,” Shane says again, which is good, but Ilya can also tell he’s losing access to his vocabulary the deeper into this they get.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You’re doing so well for me,” Ilya rewards him as he crawls across the bed to meet Shane at the head of it with a warm kiss. “Can you raise your arms?” He prompts, admiring the way Shane’s biceps flex as he lifts his wrists up in the air, pressing them together in offering.

Ilya’s boy was so damn gorgeous. He feels desire burn in the pit of his stomach at the thought of getting to have this every day for the rest of his life.

He has Shane budge up a little so Ilya can adjust the pillows behind him to sit a bit more comfortably, and then he gently takes Shane’s wrists in his hands and pulls them until they’re looped through the frame of the bed.

“This is not real rope,” Ilya reminds him, offering up the fabric for a second for Shane to see before he touches it gently to the skin of Shane’s arm. “It is not going to tie as well as real rope does, but that is perfect for us. If you need to get out, it will be very easy to do so. I am going to be watching you the entire time. If you are even slightly uncomfortable, we will stop, okay? Can I have your color again?”

“Green.” Shane looks up at him with a dazed expression, almost like he’s endeared by the number of times Ilya has stopped to check in with him. “I trust you,” he adds, and Ilya hates to admit how much it makes him feel at ease.

He smiles at the reassurance, and as he starts to secure Shane’s wrists to the bedframe, he can’t help but think of the similarities between this scene and the one at the cottage where Shane had tried to Dom him. It had been scary and a complete disaster, really, but it had also brought them much closer that night. Ilya had been able to step into Shane’s shoes for an evening to see what it was like to give up control; he’d hated it, but he had developed a newfound respect for Shane and anyone who chose to sub in general.

Being a Dom was difficult, yes. It was almost second nature to Ilya at this point, but that didn’t mean it was easy. Being a sub, though…well, Ilya thought they had the hardest job in the world. The ability to just let go and give yourself over like that was not something that Ilya took lightly. He sees it now in the way Shane’s eyes have gone a little milky around the edges, like he’s not fully all the way there, as he shifts in his new position.

Ilya loops his fingers through the rope just to make sure it’s not at risk of cutting off Shane’s circulation, but it’s too bulky to sit flush against his skin, anyway. Ilya takes Shane’s hand and presses it onto the wall behind him.

“If you need to color out for any reason, I want you to knock on the wall for me. Like this.” Ilya demonstrates by wrapping Shane’s knuckle against the wall. His wrists are tied in the perfect place to reach it. “Can you show me how you would do it?”

Shane looks a little breathless, but he’s still cognizant. Still following instructions. He knocks his hand into the wall just as Ilya has asked.

“Good boy,” Ilya smiles, shifting to strip out of his cropped safari vest to reveal his bare torso. He doesn’t miss the way that Shane’s hungry eyes track the movement. “I am going to use your mouth. Because you are nothing but a hole for me right now.”

Shane sucks in a small gasp at his words, but Ilya doesn’t react. Instead, he looks down at himself to start unbuttoning his cargo pants, pausing momentarily to fling his safari hat across the room before stripping out of the rest of his clothes.

“Tied up, cock locked away, just waiting for me to do whatever I want with you,” Ilya taunts, dragging his palm down the expanse of Shane’s chest before stopping to thumb at one of his nipples.

Shane pants and squirms slightly in response.

“You wanna suck my dick for me, baby? Want to show me how good you can be? Maybe you can earn yourself an orgasm if you let me fuck your throat nice and pretty. You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you? Getting to serve your owner like it’s all you were made to do. Who owns you?”

Shane must not realize he’s been asked a question, so Ilya reaches down to cup his cage in reminder, very conscious of the fact that he’s still got the key in the back of his pants, which now lie discarded on the floor.

“I—fuck. You do. You own me,” Shane moans. “Every part of me.”

“You wanna suck my cock?” Ilya tips his head.

“Yes. Please. Please, I wanna suck it so bad,” Shane begs, his eyes eager and desperate, like he thinks Ilya isn’t going to give it to him if he doesn’t put on a good show.

Ilya shuts him up by shoving two fingers in his mouth. “Why don’t you show me what you’re going to do? Practice on my fingers. Prove to me that you’re going to make me feel good. That I did the right thing by taking you in to train you.”

-

Shane splutters around the fingers Ilya presents to him, but he recovers quickly by hollowing his lips and giving Ilya his best kitten eyes. The ones he’ll usually pull out when he wants to convince Ilya to give him something he wants. Except Shane actually has no idea what he wants right now. His hands are tied over his head, Ilya is stepping over to straddle his chest, and all Shane can focus on is swirling his tongue around the ridges of Ilya’s fingers in his mouth.

The taste of Ilya’s skin is more present than usual, and Shane realizes it’s because his hard cock isn’t distracting him from the task at hand. It isn’t clouding his judgement, swaying his thoughts like it normally would. Right now, his only thoughts are on making Ilya’s fingers as wet as possible. He’s putting his all into the task. He feels hyper-sensitive to Ilya’s every command, every breath, every reaction.

“Oh, that’s real good, baby,” Ilya says through hooded eyes as he drags his saliva-covered digits all over Shane’s lips and chin.

Shane closes his eyes and tries to nuzzle up closer to him, but by then, Ilya’s hand is a sharp pull in his hair, and Shane’s eyes snap open wide in awareness.

“I’m going to fuck your throat now,” Ilya tells him, ducking down until they’re face-to-face. “I need you to please knock on the wall if you’re struggling to breathe or if you’re feeling overwhelmed. Show me one more time that you understand.”

Shane whimpers and wraps his knuckles against the wall once more, shifting in anticipation as Ilya’s cock head glides across his lips. “Please. Please, please, please,” he begs, feeling his dick start to ache in his cage, but there’s nowhere for it to go. The cage keeps him locked in place, and all he can do is buzz in anticipation.

Shane kitten licks over the tip of Ilya’s cock when Ilya gets close enough for him to reach, but Ilya pulls him back roughly by his hair in reprimand.

“Did I say I want you to lick me like a baby kitten? No, I said I am going to fuck your throat now. Who is in control, Shane? Is it you or is it me?”

“It’s you,” Shane says raspily. “You’re the one in control. You’re the one who owns me.”

“That’s right,” Ilya agrees, pushing into his mouth all of a sudden.

Shane makes a choking noise around him as he grips onto the bedframe for purchase.

“Uh, uh. Just let your mouth go lax around me. I do not want you to get hurt,” Ilya warns when Shane starts trying to suck at him again. “You are a hole for me to use right now. I need you to open your mouth and let me use you. You should be a snotty, drooling mess by the time I am done with you.”

Shane moans around him and lets his face completely relax. Ilya is still just waiting, probably trying to give Shane time to get used to the feeling, but it isn’t long before he starts thrusting into him.

He starts slow, like he’s trying to find his rhythm; over time, though, he picks up the pace. His balls are fucking smacking against Shane’s chin while Shane’s eyes roll back into his head. His mouth is leaking like a waterfall all over his face, and he’s making these god-awful gagging sounds every time Ilya hits the back of his throat. But more than anything, he feels so fucking good and used.

He’s doing what he was made to do. He’s serving Ilya. He’s getting his owner off while not sparing a single thought to his own pleasure. Ilya is his pleasure. He gets pleasure from anything Ilya wants to do to him. If Ilya wants to keep him denied for hours, or even days on end, then Shane will gladly bow at his feet and beg for an orgasm until he’s earned it. He knows Ilya is always going to take care of him. He knows Ilya is always going to give him what he needs. All he has to do is listen and obey; Shane finds it to be a remarkably easy and rewarding task.

“My messy fucking leopard,” Ilya grunts as he pounds into him, gripping onto his hair so tightly. “I love to be sweet with you, but other times, all I want to do is fucking ruin you. Watch you take my cock with your sloppy mouth. Fuck, Shane.” Ilya throws his head back in pleasure.

The noise of Shane’s spit accumulating around Ilya’s length and the smack of Ilya hitting the back of his throat, pulling choking gags out of Shane every time he thrusts forward, is all that fills the room. Shane is out of his body. He feels like a sex toy whose entire purpose is to be used and denied.

He barely notices when Ilya pulls out of his mouth. His eyes are closed and leaking like the rest of his face. He sniffles to try and clear some of the snot in his nose, but Ilya just rubs his hand through the mess until Shane has no choice but to hiccup a sob. He’s overwhelmed. He’s experiencing feelings he’s never felt before. His body feels weird from the inability to produce an erection. It’s sending bizarre signals to his brain.

“Are you okay, baby?” Ilya leans down to address him, pressing a kiss to his ruined, red lips.

Shane blinks hazily up at him. Ilya cups his chin, and Shane immediately turns to suck Ilya’s thumb into his mouth to give himself something to focus on.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” Ilya whispers low in his throat. “It’s like it is in your blood to submit to me. I am constantly amazed by how perfect you are.” Ilya leans in to kiss Shane’s messy face once again, and then he reaches for Shane’s discarded leopard shirt next to them to wipe up some of the saliva and snot from his lips and nose. “Oh god, you’re just beautiful, aren’t you? You get more beautiful every day,” Ilya keeps talking to him while caressing his cheeks.

All Shane can do is try to nuzzle up to him whenever Ilya gifts him with a touch. He can’t reach for him, so he just has to take what Ilya is willing to give. He has to accept that it’s not for him to decide. Every moment with Ilya’s attention on him feels like a blessing. He never wants it to stop.

Shane whines out when Ilya’s lips press against his ear in a kiss, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Your dick is all locked up, baby. So, tonight, we are going to focus on your ass,” Ilya murmurs against his skin, letting his tongue glide along the ridges of Shane’s inner ear before he sucks the lobe into his mouth. “I need you to pay close attention if you want to come.”

Shane has no fucking idea what he’s talking about, but he feels like he’s beyond drunk. Ilya’s grazing over his chest just lightly, just enough for it to tickle, and then Shane jerks when wet fingers start to rub over one of his nipples.

Ilya is all over the place. He’s licking at Shane’s armpits, massaging Shane’s pecs with the occasional flick of each nipple, pausing every so often to kiss Shane sloppily with his tongue.

Shane doesn’t know right from left. He feels really good and mindless, like a perfect caged slave should be, and Ilya decides everything for him because Shane doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. He moans out helplessly and pushes his legs against the bed just to have something to do.

“I know, gorgeous. It can be a very strange feeling, yes? Being turned on but not being allowed to really feel it,” Ilya goads him, fingers dancing across Shane’s hip bone now as he presses one of Shane’s thighs up towards his chest. “Your dick is nothing to me right now. It’s worthless. I want you to forget about it completely,” Ilya says with a fire in his eyes. “I am going to make you feel really good, but I need you to be a good boy and think about what I am doing to you down here, okay? Do not think of anything other than my mouth, my fingers, my cock, and your slutty fucking hole.”

Shane twists helplessly. He wishes he could grab onto Ilya’s hair or press his face into one of Ilya’s hoodies or have Ilya suffocate him with his entire weight.

Before any of that can happen, though, all of Shane’s thoughts are cut off by the feeling of Ilya spitting on his hole.

“Yours,” Shane gasps, feeling fucking feral with the way his arousal is all trapped inside him. He can feel it buzzing under his skin, simmering under the surface, but where it would normally fill his cock, now it just stays within him like burning sparks off a fire crackling nearby.

Ilya massages the spit into him with his thumb and then flattens onto his stomach to press a few biting kisses to Shane’s inner thighs.

“Please, please. Please, sir. Please—”

“Who’s in charge here?” Ilya reminds him.

“You are,” Shane cries out, tipping his head back into the pillows because he needs more.

“Who owns you?”

“You do,” he says firmly.

“Okay, then please shut the fuck up and take what I give you.” Ilya bites at one of his ass cheeks this time, and Shane yelps helplessly.

“Yes, sir,” he manages, an inhuman noise coming out of him when Ilya’s tongue finally comes down wet and steady against Shane’s hole. “Oh, fuck,” Shane sucks in a frenzied gasp. “Oh, fuck. Please.”

Ilya presses Shane’s other leg up in order to spread his ass nice and wide so he can start lapping incessantly at him, and Shane does his best to focus just like Ilya asked him. It’s not like he can focus on anything else as Ilya’s fingertips start creeping in next to his tongue. He’s massaging Shane’s rim with what feels like his middle and his pointer finger, dipping them down once or twice as he continues to swirl his talented tongue across Shane’s sensitive puckered skin.

He’s going crazy at not being able to touch him, but it really solidifies the fact that Ilya is in control of everything right now. Shane’s not allowed to do a single thing without his permission; in fact, he’s not even physically capable. He can’t come, he can’t move, he can barely form a coherent thought other than please and yes, sir.

Ilya licks down his crack and presses one finger inside of him, just a little bit. Just enough to draw Shane’s attention to where he’s breaching his entrance. And then Ilya’s tongue is back near his fingers again. He pulls away to spit messily at Shane’s rim before lapping at him nice and close, the scruff of his chin rubbing against the back of Shane’s cheeks.

“Holy fuck,” Shane gets out desperately, pulling a bit at his wrists just to feel the bite of the restraint against him. The fabric of this rope is so much better than the one last time. “Shit,” Shane whines when Ilya presses into his prostate. “Oh my god.”

“Right there, baby?” Ilya double-checks, pulling his fingers back for a second before pressing into it again.

“Fuck,” Shane moans. “Fuck, right there. Yes. Yes, please. Fuck. Fuck,” he stammers repeatedly because it feels so good. Better than it’s ever felt before. He feels white-hot pleasure, but it’s not in his dick like it usually would be. It’s lower. It’s deeper. It’s inside of him. It’s so fucking intense that Shane doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Ilya goes back and forth between massaging that bundle of nerves and working him open to take more fingers. Shane thinks he’s going to get fucked tonight, which is good, because he’d prepped extra well for it earlier in the day, and he needs to feel like a bottom right now. Like a hole. He needs to get pounded into good and deep. Tied up just like this with Ilya’s big hands holding him steady, his addictive voice spewing filth into Shane’s eager ears. He wants to feel like a toy for Ilya’s amusement. He wants to feel like an object whose only purpose is to be useful to someone else.

He feels like he’s being pretty useful right now. Ilya is fucking playing with him, after all. He must be enjoying himself if the way he’s looking at Shane is anything to go off of. Shane can’t look away from him. He feels like his brain is being fucking rewired right now. He pants heavily just to have a way of releasing some pent-up energy.

Ilya’s lips are dripping wet when he smirks at him before spitting onto Shane’s hole again.

Shane whines as he watches Ilya swirl his tongue deeper into the open space between his fingers, until it feels like Ilya’s tongue is all the way inside him. Shane arches slightly off the bed. He’s so turned on that he thinks he’s going to start levitating. Something is building in his body, but he has no idea what.

And then Ilya is pulling away from him all at once, and Shane starts to hyperventilate.

“Fuck, please. Please, more.”

“Are you being greedy, angel?” Ilya tuts in disapproval.

“No, sir,” Shane swallows, shutting his eyes tightly.

“I should not have to keep reminding you who is in charge here.” Ilya massages over Shane’s hole with the pads of his fingers, and Shane’s mouth drops open. “I want you to fucking beg for my cock.”

“Please,” Shane says desperately, his eyes going wide like it will help to portray just how emphatic he’s being. “I need your cock so badly. Need to feel you inside of me. Fuck, I want you so bad. Please, please. Can I have it? Please?”

“Hm,” Ilya says contemplatively, looking Shane over in consideration. “Is it going to feel good for me?”

Shane looks at him helplessly. “I—yes. I…I think so. Fuck, I hope so,” he replies, feeling nervousness start to consume him all of a sudden.

“You are going to take me very well, yes? Take everything I give you? Squeeze around me extra tight?” Ilya asks, massaging his hands over Shane’s thighs, his legs still pressed up against his chest.

“Yes,” Shane nods jerkily. “Gonna be so good for you. I promise. I promise it’ll feel good.”

“Yeah?” Ilya crawls forward to grip his hair again, their eyes just inches from each other. “Who owns you, baby?”

“You do,” Shane moans, staring up at Ilya’s gorgeous blue eyes.

“And the next time you are unsure of something, who are you going to call?”

Shane’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. “You. I’ll call you.”

“If you are ever in trouble or you feel uncomfortable, who are you going to call?”

“You,” Shane whines.

“If you are upset, or if you need help, or if you need anything at all—”

“You. I’ll call you for everything, Ilya. Please. Please. I’m sorry,” Shane gets out frantically as the dam inside of him finally breaks and the tears start to flow. The guilt from upsetting Ilya earlier, by having Troy pay for his nails, leaks out of him, dissipates through his pores, and seeps onto the bed beneath him.

Ilya is petting soothingly over his tummy. “That’s my good boy. You’re doing so well for me. Just keep focusing down here, sweetheart,” he reminds him, giving his hole a little flick that makes Shane’s whole body spark up in want.

“Oh, please,” Shane cries out, sniffling pathetically. “Please, please. I need it. Need you to fuck me.”

“You are such a fucking slut for me. So fucking needy. All you do is cry and whine.” Ilya spits down into his hand this time, and Shane watches in anticipation as Ilya places it over his rock-hard, nine-inch cock and gives it a firm stroke. “That’s it. Watch me. I want you to see what a real cock looks like. Now, look at yours,” Ilya instructs, nodding towards where Shane’s dick is still sitting lifeless in its cage.

Shane hiccups a breath, teary eyes zeroing in on Ilya once again after he’s taken a good look at his locked-up cock. He only has one second to process what’s going on before Ilya is sliding into him, the drag of his bare cock making Shane’s groin flutter all over. He puffs out a few exhales in quick succession.

Ilya is watching him with rapt attention, and Shane can tell there’s more going on inside his head than just the dirty talk that’s been spilling out of his mouth. He’s checking to make sure it’s not too much, that Shane isn’t feeling too overwhelmed, or going too far, but Shane just feels the perfect amount of everything right now. He’s exactly where he wants to be. He’s with exactly who he wants to be with.

“I love you. I’m yours,” Shane manages around a choked noise as Ilya fucks into him hard. Shane tips his head back to stare at the ceiling while stars appear behind his eyes, and then, he gets the fucking of his life.

Ilya is driving into him like a man on a mission, his hands wrapped around the backs of Shane’s knees so he can keep him folded up like a pretzel. It makes his strokes deeper, and it’s pulling soft little uh, uh, uh’s out of Shane as the pillow behind him keeps his head from knocking into the headboard.

Ilya’s face is pinched up in focus, and he keeps adjusting his hips slightly. Shane doesn’t really understand why until Ilya pounds directly into his prostate, causing him to hold his breath and squeeze down around him intensely.

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, baby. Squeeze real tight for me,” Ilya requests, pushing down on Shane’s thighs this time as he makes it his personal mission to hit that same spot with every thrust.

Ilya dick is big, and long, and thick, and with it jamming into him this hard, this repetitively, Shane has no choice but to cry out with every slap of Ilya’s balls against his ass.

“Come on. Let me fucking hear you. Am I hitting your spot, sweetheart? Does that feel good?”

Shane nods because he can’t get the words out, twisting his hands up in the rope around his wrists while stupid noises continue to spill out of him. “Ah.” He closes his eyes tightly as Ilya picks up the pace. Shane is starting to get sensitive, and he can feel something building inside of him, but he has no idea what it could be. His dick is still straining against his cage, and the lock keeping him tightly bound is rattling a bit as Ilya continues to fuck into him.

“Look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Ilya groans, pressing Shane’s legs up higher to jackrabbit into him even harder. “Fuck, Shane. Fuck, that’s my good boy.”

Shane can do nothing except for lie there and take it. He exists completely for Ilya’s pleasure right now, a doll for his amusement. He’s going to be happy with whatever he can get. He feels something enticing drift all over his body. It’s warm and burning and glowing from within him. He keels high in his throat. “Uh,” Shane cries out, his mouth falling open as his abs tense up. Holy fuck. Holy fuck, Ilya feels so good. Shane can hardly breathe. There’s something swirling in his lower tummy, something stirring right behind his dick, only slightly lower.

Ilya is quite literally ramming into him at this point, and it feels like they’ve been going at this a while. He looks like he’s trying to hold himself off, like he’s waiting for something, although Shane doesn’t know what.

He’s hiccupping gasps with every thrust, moaning like a little bitch, whimpering and whining like a stupid, desperate puppy. And Ilya’s eyes are fucking black. The veins in his forehead are pulsing like they always do when he’s straining to achieve something. Shane feels like he’s having a religious experience.

And then something happens that he doesn’t have a name for, something that makes his entire body tense up, something that rips the most ungodly cry from his throat.

-

“Fucking hell,” Ilya curses, holding onto Shane’s hips as Shane squeezes like a vice around him. “Ты просто, блять, безумна. Самое горячее, что я когда-либо видел. Ты вся моя.”

Ilya fucking loses himself when Shane’s eyes roll back into his head while his body starts to convulse. His hole is clenching down so tightly that Ilya feels like his orgasm is ripped right out of him as he gets his last couple of thrusts in and paints Shane’s walls with his come.

Shane is moaning and throwing his head back like a fucking pornstar, but Ilya is so turned on by the fact that he knows Shane isn’t exaggerating. He knows Shane is in bottom fucking heaven right now, having a hands-free anal orgasm with his cock all wrapped up and bound in its cage.

“God.” Ilya’s eyebrows press together when Shane’s legs start to quiver underneath his hands, and his dick starts to leak from where it’s still locked away. “That’s it. Good fucking boy. You are so fucking perfect. Holy shit, Shane.” Ilya lets out a heavy breath, collapsing forward to press kisses all over his sweaty face.

Shane is still panting, and his eyes are dazed like he can’t force them to focus on what’s in front of him, but that’s okay. Ilya is ready and willing to take over everything. Shane has been so good for him all night. He stayed up around the boys, he hadn’t slipped into his kitten space, and he had even come just from getting fucked, just from getting his prostate stimulated—with nothing for his cock whatsoever.

Ilya presses his fingers through Shane’s hair to give him a little scratch behind his leopard ears, and he can’t help but smile when Shane arches needily into the touch. “Feeling good, baby?” Ilya questions, kissing his forehead and then into his hair.

His cheeks are flushed, and Ilya notices he’s starting to twist his wrists restlessly, so he immediately reaches up to untie them, squeezing Shane’s hands groundingly in his own to try and encourage some extra blood flow. Then, he brings Shane’s hands up to his lips and presses a round of kisses there, too.

“Wrists feeling alright?” Ilya asks softly, giving Shane’s hair another pet to try and soothe him as he comes down from whatever high he’s on right now.

Shane just sighs and lets his eyes slip closed, a tiny satiated smile curling up on his lips. It makes Ilya smile as well.

He lets them stay like that for another couple of minutes. Shane’s hole is still fluttering in aftershock around him, and it’s a welcome comfort that makes Ilya glide his hand meaningfully over Shane’s abdomen, massaging his skin wherever he can reach.

“You did so, so good,” Ilya murmurs quietly, blue eyes grazing over him in appreciation. “You were such a beautiful leopard tonight. So well behaved for me, precious. I am extremely proud of how you did with your cage and keeping out of your kitten space.”

Shane purrs in response, so Ilya ducks down to peck his nose, which still looks a bit like a leopard’s.

“I love you more than anything in the world. Fuck. You are so, so special to me,” he says earnestly, tracing over Shane’s precious freckles and leopard spots with his thumb.

Eventually, and much to his dismay, he’s forced to pull out and deal with the mess they’ve created. Shane is only half aware of his surroundings as Ilya cleans him up with a wipe before maneuvering him into the bathroom to get him out of his cage.

Shane is standing up when Ilya finally unlocks him, but his knees start to buckle once Ilya gets him entirely free, one of Ilya’s arms catching Shane steadily around the waist so he’s not at risk of falling.

“Easy, easy,” Ilya soothes, placing the cage on a towel on the counter to be cleaned before he deposits Shane in the bathtub.

He feels like he’s running a kitty groomer shop as he rushes around left and right trying to find all of the necessary tools and equipment needed to handle his kitten’s delicate bath routine. Shane is tired and sore and clearly wants some attention, if his incessant whimpering is anything to go off of, but Ilya needs to get his face tattoos off ahead of their game tomorrow. He needs to thoroughly clean Shane’s body and help him with his elaborate skin care routine, and then he has to get Shane some water and a snack to gradually start bringing him back up before they go to bed.

By the time he’s done all that, he’ll be able to relax completely, but for now, he’s on high alert. He loves this part of being a Dom. Of having Shane rely on him fully while Ilya tends to his every need. He loves looking after him, loves doting on him, loves getting to admire him in such a raw and unguarded state.

Ilya could spend all day staring at his freckles. The warm chocolate brown of his eyes. The ever-present tint of his cheeks.

“You’re mine forever and ever,” Ilya presses into Shane’s neck once he’s got him against his chest in the bathtub. “I can’t believe we’re going to be husbands soon. I can’t believe you want me just as much as I want you.” Ilya squeezes him tightly, kissing across his skin.

He pets over Shane’s collar and admires the way his tattoo looks poised next to it. He hums contentedly at the way it makes Shane curl up closer to him in response. His heart warms at the sight of his engagement ring glinting on his chest right next to Shane’s sleepy, sated face.

He’s still so conflicted over what he wants to do for his own proposal. All of his past ideas didn’t seem special enough now that Shane had already beaten him to it. In some ways, it felt like their proposal was over and done with. Whenever anyone asked the story of how it happened, they would say that Shane popped the question. That was the truth, and nothing would change it.

So, what did that leave Ilya with? If Shane had scooped him on the marriage proposal, the only other thing that Ilya could think of was some kind of official D/s proposal. A way to symbolize an eternal commitment in their dynamic as well, since it often felt like they were living a double life recently, constantly straddling between their two worlds, between their two identities.

Ilya blinks as the idea hits him all at once.

Fuck. Of course. A collaring ceremony. Something to solidify a permanent bond between them. Dom and sub. Kitten and Owner. Alpha and omega.

Shane already had an everyday collar, obviously, but maybe Ilya could get him something nicer, too. Something for special occasions. Something for when Shane was feeling like a particularly fancy kitty. Like on their real wedding day, for example. Something with diamonds.

When his head finally hits the pillow later that evening, and the events of the day start to flush out of him, Ilya pulls Shane close and shuts his eyes with that picture fresh in his mind. Diamonds glinting off his kitten’s neck for all the world to see. Shane wearing Ilya’s hard-earned money across his chest as a declaration, as a symbol of being claimed by someone who was willing to do anything and everything for him.

His body feels so relaxed to be wrapped around his favorite person, to be smelling his favorite scent, to be experiencing his favorite heartbeat right under the palm of his hand. And as he drifts into slumber, he commands his brain to take him to whatever dream world he has to go to in order to find Shane in his sleep. They’ve already spent so much time apart when they should have been together. He doesn’t want to lose another second.

-

Chapter End Notes

here's an example of what the cock cage might look like!

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EMMA AND SPICYNOON FOR THIS BEAUTIFUL LEOPARD SHANE COMMISSION

Thank you all for your patience with this chapter. With how long the past two have been, it's been taking me longer to write/edit, as I'm sure you can imagine! But I'm still here and very committed to this fic! Thanks again for all your lovely comments, and can't wait to hear your thoughts as usual!!

I did want to give a small heads up, as we head into Shane/Ivan's playdate next chapter, that there will be minor elements of group play coming up in this fic. Ilya and Shane are extremely possessive, so it's never going to be anything that pushes them too far out of their boundaries as a pairing, but I did want to call that out in case anyone had any questions or concerns going into future chapters. For Shane and Ivan, I think we are looking at some light pet-on-pet play, similar to what you saw from them in the last book—mostly just pet-adjacent behavior. Other than that, there will be some play within each couple while in the same room.

Once again, please feel free to ask questions in the comments if you feel you need clarity on something to continue reading. I cannot make that judgment for you :)

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

please continue to check the tags. this chapter contains minor elements of group play, clicker training, as well as bottom prep. i do not consider the bottom prep to be very graphic, but if you're not into that, feel free to skip past it. (should be obvious when it's starting)

there is one point that ilya grips shane's throat, so minor warning for that, but i do not feel it qualifies as choking so i have left that tag off

Ilya doesn’t remember waking up this morning. He’s at Shane’s cottage. The sun is shining high in the sky, and Ilya closes his eyes to bask in it a little longer. His head is foggy, but he feels good. Something important is happening soon. He doesn’t know what, but he can feel it in his bones. Anticipation is buzzing through his veins.

“Is she almost here?” Shane’s warm hand glides across his shoulder as he appears suddenly at Ilya’s side.

“Yeah,” he replies easily, even though he doesn’t know who Shane is talking about or whether she’s here yet or not.

Shane smiles at him, but there’s something in his expression that Ilya can’t place. He feels far away. Ilya wants to reach out for him.

Before he can, however, there’s a halo of light waltzing towards them, a young woman emerging from seemingly nowhere. She’s young, and she has the face of his mother; she hasn’t changed a bit.

She still smiles the same way. Like sunshine personified. Her hair is still flowy and beautiful. Her skin is still perfect. Still radiant with youth. Ilya’s heart thuds in his chest. She’s walking, but she never gets any closer.

“Mom,” Ilya says, except the word comes out muffled. Garbled. Distorted in a way that Ilya can’t understand. “Mama, I need you to meet Shane,” Ilya tries breathlessly, and it feels like it’s taking all his effort to produce air in his lungs.

Shane is still looking at Ilya, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as he turns to glance in the direction of Ilya’s mother before facing Ilya once more. “There’s no one there, Ilya.”

Ilya’s expression slowly morphs into one of slight panic as he looks between the two of them. His mother appears even further away than she was last time, despite still walking forward, so Ilya grabs Shane’s hand tightly and tries to run towards her, but it isn’t long before Ilya notices that Shane’s hand has vanished from within his like vapor.

“Shane.” Ilya watches him with a hurt expression. “Please, come meet her. I swear she will like you. She will have to because she knows that I love you.”

Shane just smiles sadly at him. “It’s already over, Ilya.”

Ilya’s face does fall fully this time as he shakes his head. “No…no, what do you mean? She is right there. She is so close, Shane.”

“She might feel close, but that doesn’t mean she is,” Shane replies, and Ilya isn’t sure why he’s denying what’s right in front of him. Surely, Ilya can’t be the only one seeing her right now. Surely, he wasn’t losing his mind.

Ilya blinks and then turns back to her, only to find that she’s more of a light than she is a physical being right now.

“Please, Mom,” he begs, wishing she would just stay a little longer. Wishing she would meet Shane so Ilya could find peace in the fact that his two favorite people in the whole world have existed together, simultaneously, at least for a moment. At least so Ilya could cling to that image in his mind if he ever started to doubt that there were people who loved him. Two people, to be exact. Two people that he thinks would have also loved each other.

“She’s really great, Ilya.” Shane’s hand is threaded through his own this time, and when Ilya looks over at him, he’s smiling. “Thanks for bringing me to meet her.”

You haven’t met her, Ilya thinks tragically. You have no idea what she smells like, or what her voice sounds like, or what it feels like to see her smile. I want you to know everything about me, but how could you if you can never know this?

Ilya pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to cry.

When he wakes up, it’s to Shane’s warm, sleepy limbs tangled up in his own, and when those brown eyes pop open to look at him, Ilya finds it incredibly difficult to be sad. Yes, his Mom was never coming back; Shane would not meet her, at least not for a while, but that didn’t matter. Ilya traces his fingers over Shane’s freckled cheek to make sure he’s real.

“That tickles,” Shane complains, scrunching his face up as he turns his head into the pillow to try to hide from Ilya’s gaze.

“I will show you what tickles,” Ilya fires back, digging his fingers into Shane’s sides just for the way it makes Shane collapse forward into his chest while giggling wildly.

“Stop, stop,” Shane begs, so Ilya does, but only because he’s gotten his wish of incapacitating Shane this early in the morning. He was so beautiful when he was under Ilya’s control.

“Good morning,” Ilya says softly, with a smile, as he waits for Shane’s face to resurface. When it finally does, his heart threatens to beat out of his chest at the silly, playful look adorning his features.

“Good morning,” Shane replies, his eyes sparkling, his lips quirked. “Last night was really fun, thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for, gorgeous?” Ilya hums, cupping Shane’s jaw to pull him in for a kiss.

“Mm.” Shane’s eyes slip closed momentarily, and Ilya is glad he’s pulled back before Shane opens them so he can see the sated look on his face. “Because you put everything together. You’re really good at planning events.”

Ilya’s mouth curls into a smirk. “Well, you are really good at attending events,” he teases, loving the way it gets a rise and an eye roll out of Shane. “Are you excited for tonight, baby?”

Shane’s cheeks flush this time, and Ilya can’t help pulling him closer with a strong arm wrapped around his waist.

“You are going to be on your best behavior for me, yes? I know it is fun and exciting, but it is very serious, too.”

Shane’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Ilya licks over his lips, running his hand over the expanse of Shane’s bare back. “It is our first scene with another pairing. I want to make sure we are on the same page. I think this is something we will enjoy, but I do not want to risk anything coming between us.”

“What could come between us?” Shane sits up on one elbow, his eyebrows creased even further together.

Ilya squeezes his hand to keep him from spiraling. “I just…I know that you and I are very possessive of one another. I do not want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I do not want you to think I care about anyone in that room but you. If there is ever a point at which it stops being fun, I really hope you will tell me before it goes too far.”

Shane visibly swallows and accepts Ilya’s hand, giving him a firm squeeze in return. “I appreciate that,” he says lightly, quietly, like he wants Ilya to understand how much it means to him, but also, how seriously he’s taking it. “I’m not worried about Ivan and Cedric, though. We know them really well. I know you’re not like…interested in Ivan or anything. I mean, right?” He asks, tipping his head like it’s an actual question.

Ilya fights very hard not to laugh. “No, моя любовь. I have absolutely zero interest in Ivan.”

Shane’s resounding smile is enough to quell any lingering worries. “And I’m not interested in Cedric. Or Ivan. Not like that.”

Ilya brings Shane’s hand up to his lips to press a kiss there. “We are just going to see where things go, but we will talk about boundaries with them before we start to make sure all of us are on the same page. Cedric knows that neither of us have any intention of letting it go too far. His and Ivan’s relationship may be open, but they both understand that ours is not.”

“It’s just…it’s just for fun, right? Just like…two pets. Playing,” Shane says simply.

“Exactly,” Ilya agrees with a smile. “It does not have to be anything more. We are going to play with some toys. Maybe do some training,” Ilya teases, threatening to tickle Shane’s sides again, but Shane catches him before he can get too far.

“Training?” He chews at his lower lip in contemplation. “Like…like what kind of training?”

“Nothing bad, котенок,” Ilya vows, looking him over. “Cedric and I had an idea that we thought would be fun, but I know you like to be surprised.” He pauses to survey Shane carefully. “Unless you would rather I tell you just to make sure we are on the same page?”

“No, no,” Shane shakes his head quickly, pulling Ilya closer to him. “I want it to be a surprise. I trust you. As long as it’s not anything like, um—”

“I am very aware of your boundaries, sweet boy,” Ilya hums, scratching his nails through the back of Shane’s hair. “I would never plan something that I think you are not going to like. I only want to make my kitten feel good things, yes?”

Shane practically purrs in his arms as he collapses forward, nuzzling into him affectionately.

“There’s my baby,” Ilya sighs happily, wrapping his arms tightly around Shane while taking an inhale of his hair. As usual, he smelled like Ilya’s shampoo. “You are so good for me always. Took everything I gave you so well last night. It was alright, yes?”

Shane’s sharp inhale is response enough.

“Mm, you liked your cage, didn’t you, angel? It seemed to help you stay up during the party. Or maybe it’s just because you were trying to be on your best behavior so I would let you come, hm?”

Ilya is unsurprised when he feels Shane press forward so Ilya can feel Shane’s erection against his own thigh. Truthfully, it made sense that Shane would be extra horny this morning. Ilya had gotten him off last night, yes, but he hadn’t actually come. Not in the way his dick needed to.

It was just one night. It wasn’t a big deal, but Ilya knew Shane was probably a little more on edge than usual, especially with the knowledge of what they were doing later.

“I know, baby,” Ilya tells him fondly. “You will get what you need later, but for now, you’ll have to be good for me. Come on. Let’s get ready for practice.”

He gives Shane a peck on the forehead and then moves to get out of bed, but Shane’s leopard claws dig into his skin and immediately pull him back for a hungry kiss. Ilya moans, sinking into the lip-lock with ease, and it isn’t long before they’re running late to practice.

Twenty skincare products and a few dozen more kisses later…

-

“There you guys are,” Bood whoops when they enter the locker room only ten minutes tardy. “We were beginning to wonder if morning practice was cancelled today. You know, on account of leopard training school and all.”

Ilya rolls his eyes as Shane’s cheeks flush.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Ilya jibes back at him, giving Bood a hard shove before gripping his shoulder very tightly. “Watch yourself, yes?” He says lowly, and Shane fights hard to keep from shivering.

“Woah, sorry, Cap. Just messing around,” Bood promises, holding his hands up in defense. “I thought Shane was still in Halloween mode. Barrett certainly is.”

Shane glances over to Troy, who is hovering with Harris near Coach Wiebe’s office. He’s listening attentively to whatever Harris is saying, his back pressed against the wall as Harris leans over him, and he’s got a black eye from his dalmation spot sharpie disaster. It’s a little faded, like Troy had half-heartedly tried to scrub it off before ultimately giving up and succumbing to his fate.

“Plus, Holmberg still thinks he’s Chucky,” Bood whispers, pointing to the aforementioned who keeps sneaking up on people to scare them before cackling maniacally and running away.

Ilya laughs as he follows Bood’s gaze to where Holmberg has just nearly scared Luca half to death, giving his shoulder another friendly shake before he retreats to his stall next to Shane’s to get his gear on.

“Hey,” Troy gets out breathlessly, suddenly appearing at Shane’s side. “Great party last night, guys.”

“I’m sure it was,” Ilya says pointedly, giving Harris an obvious glance before winking at Troy. “Nice black eye, by the way. I assume the night was great after the party as well?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Shane cuts in before Troy can reply. “He’s just being nosy.”

“Actually, you should respond if you expect me to continue playing Cupid at the club tonight. I may be a miracle worker, but I am no mind reader,” Ilya warns while tugging off his shirt.

Shane catches himself staring for a moment before quickly shaking out of his stupor. “Ignore him,” he insists once more as Troy looks wide-eyed between them. “If you want to keep your business private, then you should do that.”

“Why? Um,” Troy starts, looking around to make sure no one is listening to them. “Did Harris say he wants to keep it private? I mean, did he mention anything to either of you?”

“No…” Shane wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion, pausing to turn to Ilya. “Did he say something to you?”

Ilya raises his eyebrows while he tugs his practice jersey over his head. “I saw you two less than twelve hours ago. What could he have possibly told me since then? If you would like to fill me in, then maybe I can offer some assistance, but I am flying blind right now, Barrett.”

Troy curses under his breath and then leans in close. “Look, okay. He just dropped me off. Nothing really happened. I don’t know if I should, like, be worried. Maybe he’s not really looking for something serious. Maybe it was just, like, a Halloween thing. Cause of the matching costumes, you know?”

Shane just stares at Troy like he’s losing his mind right now, because he’s pretty sure that he is. “Alright, maybe just…try and relax,” Shane suggests, gripping Troy’s forearm for a second to try to ground him. “Harris is a good guy. He probably just didn’t want to take advantage of you while you were drunk. I mean, you did have a lot to drink last night.”

Ilya bursts into laughter next to them. “Trust me, I highly doubt Harris kissed you because you ended up in matching costumes. If anything, it probably had more to do with the fact that you were dressed like a cute little puppy dog—” He cuts himself off when he catches Shane glaring at him. “Uh, if you’re into that stuff,” Ilya coughs awkwardly. “Me, personally, I’m more of a cat guy myself, but you know. To each their own.”

“Sure,” Shane nods at him slowly, his eyes narrowed into near slits. “Nice save,” he says in warning.

Ilya swallows thickly and turns back to his stall before he can get himself into any more trouble.

Shane sighs before zeroing in on Troy once again. “Look, he’s still coming to the club opening tonight, right? None of the other guys are coming, so it’ll be a good chance for you to grab some more dedicated alone time with him. You guys can hang with me and Ilya. Ivan and Cedric will be there, too, so. It’s kinda like a triple date,” he offers with a smile.

Troy nods fervently, his eyes darting somewhere over Shane’s shoulder as he lets out a heavy breath. “Right, yeah. A triple date. Do you really think Harris will see it that way?”

“Totally,” Shane assures him with a soft smile. “And maybe you can tone down the drinking a bit, too. That way, if things go well, you can invite him in for a nightcap or something.”

“You are going to invite him in for what?” Ilya wrinkles his nose, jumping back into the conversation.

“A nightcap,” Shane repeats. “It’s like, um.” He snaps his fingers, glancing over at Troy as he tries to come up with the right descriptive words, but Troy seems just as confused as Ilya does. “Inviting someone in for tea. Or a midnight snack. It’s just an excuse to invite them in, basically.”

“Ah,” Ilya blinks in understanding. “So, it is code for sex.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “No, Ilya. It is not code for sex, god. It’s just…fuck, I don’t know. A way to spend more time with someone if you’re not ready for them to leave yet. You invite them in for a nightcap.”

Troy’s gaze drifts helplessly to Ilya, and Ilya just scoffs in response.

“Basically, it is code for sex. Get him to take you home and invite him in. He will know what you are asking for. Shane is just innocent. If you want to have sex with him, that is what you should do.”

Shane’s jaw drops slightly, his eyebrows furrowed. “You didn’t even know what that word meant until I just explained it to you.”

Ilya shrugs his indifference. “Once you explained it to me, I understood. I can read between the lines. It doesn’t make you any less innocent.”

Shane lets the words wash over him and thinks about the last time he was invited in for a nightcap. It was Rose who asked him, right around the time when they had first started dating. She’d questioned if he wanted to come in for a nightcap, and Shane had stupidly said no, claiming he was all full up from dinner and didn’t really have the stomach for anything further. Rose tilted her head and looked at him like he was odd, but the realization had never quite hit him that she was probably hoping for more. That she had probably invited him in specifically for sex.

Fuck. How long ago was that? Only nine months? Less than a year, definitely. Shane couldn’t believe how different his life looked now. Nine months ago, he was still fumbling around, trying to date girls. Massive movie stars who could sniff his sexuality out in nearly two seconds flat. Well, not two seconds. It had taken almost two months for Rose to kindly break the news to him, but that was probably just because she was extremely nice and didn’t want to make Shane feel bad. In hindsight, he’s really lucky she came along when she did. He almost wishes she had come along earlier, but Shane wouldn’t risk changing anything at this point. His life is perfect as is.

“Shit,” Shane realizes all of a sudden. “I was supposed to call the wedding planner back about touring event spaces next weekend.”

“Oh my god.” Troy perks up immediately. “I totally forgot you guys have to start doing that. Do you need any help?” He offers kindly. “I don’t know much about weddings, but um, my ex’s sister was in the process of planning hers when we were together, and I guess I always thought—” Troy pauses, and all of a sudden, he’s frowning like a kicked puppy.

Shane’s heart throbs a little in understanding. Troy’s ex, right. They probably broke up before the sister’s wedding ever happened. Shane couldn’t even imagine having a long-term partner cheat on him like that, let alone someone he thought he might marry. The idea of Ilya ever doing that to him—no. He shakes that bad thought away immediately, mostly because Ilya could never. But, luckily, Harris was the perfect person to help fix Troy right up. That was definitely what Troy needed to get his mind off things.

“I think we’re okay for the moment.” Shane smiles to let Troy know he appreciates the offer. “We’ve barely done anything yet. I mean, I only just proposed.”

“Wait,” Wyatt cuts in, appearing out of nowhere. “Shane’s the one who proposed? Holy fuck,” he mutters, looking down at the ring on Ilya’s necklace in amazement.

Shane rolls his eyes as the rest of the guys come to approach them in a similar uproar.

“Aw, Rozy got proposed to!” Bood teases, pinching at Ilya’s cheek.

“That’s so cute,” Luca chimes in. “I love that.”

“Wow, that’s awesome, guys,” Harris adds, stepping back into the room from where he had temporarily disappeared into Coach’s office. “See? That just proves why queer relationships are awesome. There are no set traditional gender roles.”

Shane can tell that Ilya is starting to get really irritated with the way the guys are talking about their proposal, so he quickly swoops in to divert the tone of the conversation.

“Actually,” Shane inserts himself. “Ilya and I both wanted to do our own proposals. His is just taking a bit more time to set up, but since we knew we were on the same page, we figured we may as well start planning.”

“Jesus, you two have to make everything a competition, don’t you?” Wyatt cackles loudly, clapping his hands together. “Even your fucking marriage proposals are competing against each other.”

“Shane’s all, ‘Well, my proposal was first’,” Holmberg mimics around a flurry of laughter.

“And Ilya’s like, ‘Well, my proposal was better. And it took longer to prepare’,” LaPointe adds in his best Russian accent, which is not terribly far off from the real thing.

Shane can still see tension littered across Ilya’s shoulders, but it loosens slightly with the way the topic has shifted, and Shane doesn’t miss the way he offers him a soft look in appreciation. Shane feels the corners of his lips tug up ever-so-slightly, but Troy is distracting him before he can put any more thought into the matter.

“So, um. Do you know who your best man’s gonna be? I mean, you probably have someone already, right? Aren’t you pretty close with Pike or something?” Troy asks, feigning nonchalance, but Shane can see the hidden meaning behind his question.

“Uh, yeah,” Shane replies awkwardly. “He’s not going to be my best man, though. He’s…he’s a good pal, but he’s kind of useless with this sort of thing. Plus, Rose is probably my best friend, so. I figured she’d be really helpful since she knows all kinds of stuff about weddings, and one of her co-stars got married recently, so she has all the best contacts for, like, flowers and invitations or whatever,” Shane explains with a smile.

“Totally, yeah.” Troy nods jerkily, and Shane can tell he’s a little disappointed, even if he must understand that he and Shane only became close recently. Like super recently, actually. Within the last couple of weeks.

Still, it begs the question: Did Troy have many other friends? Maybe he was mostly thinking about the fact that Shane was his closest friend. The thought makes Shane’s heart sink to the pit of his stomach, not because it bothers him in any way, but because it makes him feel bad that Troy maybe doesn’t have a lot of people in his life who he can talk to.

“But, I still haven’t picked out the rest of my wedding party yet,” Shane tries to cheer him up. “I don’t really have that many close friends other than Rose, Hayden, and Ivan…” he chews at his lower lip in contemplation. “Maybe you could be one of my groomsmen?” Shane offers before he can think of any reason why not to. It’s worth it for the way Troy’s blue eyes positively light up in response.

“I—woah, really? Are…are you serious?” Troy double-checks, looking positively gobsmacked by the proposition.

Shane can practically sense Ilya rolling his eyes next to him, but this feels too important, so he powers on. “Of course,” Shane laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to have at least a few people, right? I can’t even really think of who else I’d ask, so. You’d be doing me a huge favor, honestly.”

“Fuck, I mean—” Troy shakes his head in disbelief. “Yeah. I…I’d love to. I mean, only if you’re sure.” His eyes grow worried for a moment.

“I’m sure,” Shane replies confidently. “Like I said, I don’t think Hayden is really into this sort of thing. Plus, it’d be nice to have someone in town to bring to stuff. It’s always nice to get a second opinion.”

Ilya clears his throat loudly, and Shane can tell he’s starting to get impatient with the lack of attention—since, apparently, he’s like fucking Tinker Bell, meaning he’ll die without it—so Shane turns over his shoulder to pull Ilya into a headlock.

Ilya lets out a shocked noise as his entire world turns upside down, and Shane can’t resist giving him an affectionate head noogie.

“Other than my wonderful fiancé’s, of course,” Shane announces dramatically. “Since I’m getting married to this man. Ilya Rozanov,” he says loudly, pulling the attention of the entire locker room. “Russian Love Machine. Fetus Shane’s Gay Awakening—"

It doesn’t take long before Ilya has wormed his way out of Shane’s grip, and then, he’s ducking to throw Shane over his shoulder before addressing the room at large.

“Damn straight,” Ilya declares, balancing Shane over his shoulder with one arm as he points threateningly to the rest of the Centaurs. “Always remember,” he warns, narrowing his eyes at each one of them. “You can watch Shane’s workout videos as much as you please. You can wish you were the sweat dripping from his pretty skin. You can even dream about his cottage as much as you like, but you will never, ever get to tap this.” He smacks Shane’s ass to prove his point and then grips the firm muscle tightly. “You all hear me? This—” he points to Shane’s ass once more and then gestures to the rest of his body. “This is all mine. Property of Ilya Rozanov. Do not touch. Do not even look at him without my permission. I will fuck you up.”

“Yo, we fucking get it,” Dykstra hollers, cupping his hands around his mouth to project the sound. “Jesus, what the fuck happened with you two last night? Did you make a blood oath or something? You’re acting even crazier than usual,” he snorts, and the rest of the guys break into hysterical laughter.

Shane blushes dark red and pounds his fists against Ilya’s back to get the other to put him down, since Shane was no match for Ilya’s superhuman strength these days. When Ilya finally deposits him back on the floor, he gives Shane’s ass one more squeeze, but he looks so pleased at having staked his claim that Shane can’t resist leaning in to peck him gently on the lips. He laughs and scrunches his eyes up when Ilya returns the sentiment with a kiss to Shane’s nose.

Ilya smacks the outside of Shane’s geared-up thigh and then goes back to his stall to finish getting ready for practice.

“Anyways,” Shane offers Troy a breathless laugh. “I’d love for you to be my groomsman. If that’s something you think you’d be interested in.”

Troy is looking between him and Ilya with something like want in his eyes, like maybe he’s a little jealous of what they have, but Shane didn’t blame him. People should be jealous of what he and Ilya have. What they have is fucking amazing. But Shane is also confident that Troy’s own happily ever after is just around the corner. And he knows that Ilya and him can help to make that happen.

“Yeah,” Troy says after a beat, nodding jerkily. “Fuck, I would like that. A lot, actually. Thank you.” And this time, the want has turned into genuine appreciation. Like Shane has offered him a gift, a leg to stand on, a beacon of hope in an otherwise dim and doomed reality.

Shane can relate. Ilya offered him something similar not too long ago. For someone who believed he was a stain on every living being he touched, Ilya really had a knack for bringing people together. He’d done it with his and Shane’s own relationship, he’d done it for Cedric and Ivan, and now he was helping to make it a reality for Troy and Harris. Shane had complete faith in his ability to ignite sexual sparks between the two of them because, clearly, the romantic sparks were already there. Now, they just needed to take things to the next level.

“Is anyone going to ask me to be one of their groomsmen?” Wyatt questions loudly, walking over to throw his arm around Ilya’s shoulder pointedly.

“In your dreams, Hazy.” Ilya rolls his eyes while shoving their star goalie off of him. “And, before any of you ask, yes, I already have a best man. As if any of you fuckers are worthy of standing next to me on the biggest day of my life. Maybe come talk to me after you have put in some more man-hours.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Wyatt shakes his head in defeat.

“It means I have been trying to lure Hollander into my very capable arms for ten years now, and he is finally mine. None of you will distract him away from me by wearing your fancy tuxes. That is why the only safe bet is to have Svetlana be my best man. Zero risk of Golden Boy running off with her because she is lacking one very important organ.”

Everyone seems to be waiting for the punchline, eyes wide and confused as they continue to look at Ilya, but Ilya seems to think it’s as obvious as Shane does.

“A penis,” Shane sighs. Even though he thinks Ilya’s entire declaration is ridiculous, he can’t exactly fault him on his logic. “He’s talking about a penis.”

Yet, still…blank stares. Wow. No wonder he and Ilya were able to avoid getting outed.

Shane furrows his eyebrows in concern. “Because I’m gay…” He trails, hoping that will at least ring a bell.

“Oh,” Bood laughs in understanding, and Shane exhales in relief that at least someone on this team has a few working brain cells to rub together.

“I knew what he meant.” Wyatt rolls his eyes. “I was just annoyed that he said I wasn’t worthy of standing next to him, so I let the joke flop.”

“Riiiight,” Ilya nods his agreement. “Sure, you did.” He claps Hazy on the back before shutting his locker resolutely. “Alright, practice time, you fucking chumps. You boys owe me another win tonight, yes?”

“Yes, Cap!” The rookies chant like they’re about to go to war.

Shane smirks and shakes his head. He looks over at Troy again, but the confused expression on his face mixed with the permanent sharpie black eye is just way too much, so Shane doesn’t fault himself for the way he breaks into laughter.

“What?” Troy frowns, looking so, so much like a puppy that Shane’s stomach starts to physically hurt from how much it’s cracking him up.

“God, you’re so fucking funny, you know that?” Shane grins, wiping at his teary eyes. “C’mon.” He wraps an arm around Troy’s shoulders before tugging him in the direction of the rink. “I bet Harris will totally be all over you if you score a goal tonight. Even more so if we win,” Shane tempts, and he feels warmth in his chest when Troy immediately puts on his game face.

“Let’s fucking do this, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” Shane smiles in appreciation, giving Troy a playful shove as they head out to the ice.

-

“A win by one point is still a—”

“Win!” The Centaurs cheer as they pile back into the locker room after a grueling game against Pittsburgh.

“3 - 2, baby,” Wyatt whistles loudly. “Barrett was on fucking fire!”

Ilya smirks and shoves at Troy’s shoulder as he, Troy, and Shane all roll up to their stalls. The three of them were turning into quite the power line, and considering Troy scored two goals and assisted on the third, Ilya figured congratulations were in order.

“Why don’t you head over to Harris and let him take some pics of you for the team Instagram page? You’re our star tonight. Plus, I think you finally almost sweat off your sharpie dalmation spot.” Ilya leans in to squint at him. Not quite, actually, but at least he would feel right at home with Shane and Ivan at the club later.

“Oh, I don’t think—” Troy shakes his head, and Ilya is forced to roll his eyes.

“Just go, Barrett.”

Troy looks between Ilya and Shane for a second before swallowing and nodding quickly, bouncing on his toes for a moment like he’s trying to work up the courage.

Shane steps forward to place a comforting hand on Troy’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says calmly, and Ilya watches as Troy’s eyes zero in on him with laser focus. “He already likes you. He’s coming to the club tonight. Just…be cool, yeah?”

“Cool, right,” Troy agrees jerkily. “I am so cool.”

“Cool as the ice you just destroyed,” Shane smirks, pushing him in the direction of Harris, who is chatting aimlessly with Luca near Coach’s office. “Don’t overthink it.”

Ilya snorts, but he holds his hands up in defense when Shane shoots him a glare over his shoulder. As soon as Troy scurries out of sight, however, Ilya crowds all up into Shane’s space.

“And what about our other star player tonight? The one who scored the winning goal,” Ilya hums, keeping his voice low as his hands creep across Shane’s hips.

Ilya loves him when he’s like this: all sweaty from a game, breathless and pink-cheeked, high off a win. He never thought he’d get to experience this Shane up close, not from the same side of the ice, at least. Not in a shared locker room surrounded by all of their very tolerant and supportive teammates, one of whom was turning into a mini Shane right before their very eyes. Ilya has half a mind to take him right here.

“Should we go to the club straight after? I have clothes in my playroom for you so we don’t have to go home to change,” Ilya offers, but his eyebrows pinch together when Shane immediately starts acting shifty.

“Um,” Shane replies, trying to feign nonchalance as he skirts out of Ilya’s grip, but Ilya, as usual, can see right through him. “How about you go ahead, and I’ll just meet you there?”

This time, Ilya’s eyebrows raise high on his head. “Meet me there,” he repeats, because since when did his Shane ever want to do things separately? “And why would we do that?”

“Because.” Shane waves his hand half-heartedly. “It’s the big opening. You probably want to be there early. And I could use a little time to myself.”

Okay, now Ilya is really concerned. “Time to yourself?” He scoffs in confusion. “Shane, what are you—”

But Shane gives him an urgent look, one that immediately has Ilya stopping in his tracks and clamping his mouth shut. One that says Shane really, really doesn’t want to talk about this here with all of the boys around.

And then…it finally dawns on him.

“Oh,” Ilya says, his eyes turning soft as a wave of understanding washes over him. “Well, I will come with you, then.”

Shane shuts his eyes momentarily, like he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “I’d really prefer some privacy.”

Ilya presses his lips together in mild discomfort, but he recognizes that this is not the time or place to have this conversation, so instead, he reaches to tangle his fingers with Shane’s and then presses a quick kiss to the back of his hand before heading off to the showers.

Once he and Shane are all cleaned up and ready to go, they start heading towards the car, but Ilya notices Troy hovering nearby before they can reach their destination.

“Hey, so, um,” Troy approaches them nervously. “For tonight, should I wear, like…”

“It is a club,” Ilya tells him plainly. “Just wear what you would wear to a club.”

Troy’s eyes dart to Shane. “What are you going to wear?”

“Ah.” Ilya shakes his head, snapping his fingers to get Troy’s attention. “That is up to me. He wears what I tell him. Do you need me to tell you what to wear, too? Because I am not on the market for another sub.”

Shane lets out an ugly scoff, and when Ilya turns to face him, his arms are crossed over his chest.

“Excuse me, котенок. Watch the attitude,” Ilya snaps. “I just said I am not on the market for another sub. Behave yourself or I will start taking things away from you before our evening has even begun.”

Shane’s expression instantly falls from his face and is, instead, replaced by one of fear and regret.

“Hey, guys,” Harris greets happily as he steps into the parking lot, seemingly on his way out as well. “So, what time should I get there tonight?”

Troy freezes in place.

Ilya steals a glance at his watch. It’s approaching 10pm. “Shane and I need about an hour, and then we will meet Ivan and Cedric for a chat. I would say around 11:30, if that works. Club stays open very late.”

“Awesome,” Harris smiles, and then redirects his attention to Troy. “That work alright for you?”

“Yeah,” Troy spits out like he can’t help himself. “Totally. I need some time to figure out what to wear, anyway, so…” he trails, scratching at the back of his neck like he’s still struggling with a life-or-death decision.

“Well, you always look great, so I wouldn’t stress too much,” Harris offers in consolation. “Are you planning on wearing your ears?”

“Um…” Troy says helplessly, looking over to Shane and Ilya as if they’ll be able to offer something that might sway him one way or the other.

“Shane will be wearing his ears. I cannot be sure about Ivan, but I know it takes him a little longer to warm up, so I would say there is a high probability. Otherwise, I doubt we will see too many pets tonight since there is not an event. It is completely up to you, though,” Ilya shrugs in Troy’s direction.

“Why don’t you bring them just in case?” Harris suggests, once it appears Troy is still struggling to make headway on a decision. “That way, if you want to wear them, you’ll have them handy, and if you don’t, no harm done. Plus, you’re already halfway there with that spot over your eye,” he teases, reaching up to brush his fingers over Troy’s cheek. The spot was, admittedly, massively big. Despite being partially faded by now, it still spanned the space from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.

“Yeah,” Troy replies raspily. “I’ll bring them just in case. I can always just leave them in my car.”

Harris tips his head in consideration. “How about I pick you up instead? Your house is on my route, anyway. Plus, then I can drop you off if you wind up drinking.”

“I’m not going to drink much,” Troy cuts in quickly, but Ilya shoots him a pointed look that says take the offer. Troy swallows. “But, um, yeah. That sounds good. Do you wanna pick me up at 11:15, then?”

“Perfect,” Harris smiles in response, and Troy flushes under his gaze.

“Great. Well, we’ve got to get going, but we will see you two later. Should be a very fun night. You will get to meet Cedric tonight, too. He is also pretty new to Domming, so I’m sure you two will have lots to talk about,” Ilya mentions to Harris, who grins in appreciation.

“Can’t wait.”

Ilya glances over at Shane, who is still fidgeting restlessly at his side. “Ready, драгоценный?”

Shane hesitates for a second, eyes darting to Troy and Harris, who are still watching them with rapt attention, before quietly saying, “Ты пойдешь первым, да? В клуб?”

Ilya blinks in surprise at the Russian, but he’s more than pleased with Shane’s pronunciation. It’s clear Shane has been practicing on his own outside of their usual sessions, which makes Ilya’s heart flutter just a tiny bit faster in his chest.

“Нет, солнышко. Мы пойдём вместе,” Ilya replies, reaching to brush some of Shane’s fringe out of his eyes as the other looks at him pleadingly. “Не спорь. Пойдем.”

Shane frowns resolutely, but Ilya is way too endeared by him to be bothered, offering him a reassuring smile instead.

“I’m still so impressed with the fact that Shane knows Russian,” Harris laughs in amazement, with Troy nodding in agreement at his side.

Ilya smiles proudly. “He is getting much better. My star student,” he teases, nudging Shane’s cheek with his knuckles before tugging him in the direction of the car. “We will see you both very soon.”

Troy and Harris say their goodbyes, but Ilya can feel the tension radiating off of Shane as soon as they shut the doors to his orange Porsche.

Ilya doesn’t say anything as he starts up the engine, and Shane doesn’t say anything either, so Ilya switches on the radio, and they spend the rest of the car ride in stilted silence. The second they’re home, Shane is out the door and into the house, but Ilya is right on him, pressing Shane against the wall of the entryway with two hands on his hips.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ilya murmurs, leaning into Shane’s space, leering over him a bit.

“Ilya, seriously.” Shane pushes at his forearms.

“What are you so afraid of? Am I not going to be your husband? Do we not share everything?” Ilya challenges.

“Some things are private,” Shane says steadfastly, letting his arms fall to his sides once he realizes Ilya isn’t budging.

Ilya just blinks down at him. “You are entitled to your privacy. But there is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Jesus,” Shane sighs, pressing his hands over his face. “Can you just leave me alone? I told you to go without me.”

“I don’t like the fact that you are embarrassed by this—”

“It’s not about being embarrassed, Ilya. It’s just gross,” Shane huffs.

“It is part of your routine. It is part of our sex life. It is not gross, and it is nothing to be self-conscious of.” Ilya looks him over carefully, letting one of his hands come up to cup Shane’s jaw, his thumb stroking across Shane’s cheek. “Let me help you,” he says softly.

“Ilya.” Shane lets his head thunk lightly against the wall behind him as his eyes slip closed.

“I feel bad that this is your burden to shoulder when—”

“It’s not a…” Shane shakes his head, his brown eyes blinking back open to meet Ilya’s searching blue ones. “It’s not a burden,” he admits quietly. “I like it. It relaxes me. I like feeling clean. And I like thinking about what I’m getting clean for.”

Ilya’s eyes darken as he talks, his fingers slipping under the fabric of Shane’s shirt to glide across his hip bone. “You are thinking about me while you do it?” He questions, tipping his head while continuing to survey the beautiful creature laid out in front of him.

“I mean,” Shane sucks in a measured breath. “Not explicitly.”

“But you think about what I’m going to do to you,” Ilya clarifies, letting his hand on Shane’s jaw shift subtly until he’s gripping Shane’s throat.

Shane swallows, and Ilya can feel his Adam’s apple bob against his fingers. “Yeah,” Shane gets out breathlessly. “How good it’s going to feel. Your voice talking me down. The way you’re gonna take care of me after.”

Ilya squeezes around his throat slightly, not enough to restrict airflow in any way, just enough to add pressure. To remind Shane of the position he’s in. “Always take care of you, don’t I, baby?” He questions, pressing his fingers in a little further when he doesn’t get an answer.

“Yes,” Shake chokes out, gripping onto the fabric of Ilya’s shirt in front of him to find purchase in something. “Always. So fucking good to me. Give me everything I need.”

“Everything,” Ilya reiterates. “I give you everything. I take care of you always. You’re mine, aren’t you?” Shane nods emphatically, and Ilya loosens his grip, letting his fingers graze down Shane’s neck and across the expanse of his chest achingly slow. “Then, let me have you. Fully. All of you. Let me help you,” he begs, attempting one more time as his eyes flicker over Shane’s face in assessment.

Shane hitches another breath, his brown eyes big and wide and so, so enticing that Ilya has to fight the urge not to kiss him senseless. Instead, he holds Shane’s gaze and waits for the answer to find him. Finally—

“Okay,” Shane agrees, bobbing his head fervently in agreement. “Fuck. Please. I—god, I want you to.”

Ilya ducks forward to lick up the expanse of Shane’s neck before claiming his lips in a bruising kiss, fingers shifting to hold him in place as Ilya presses his tongue into Shane’s mouth.

Shane just goes lax against the wall, taking what’s given to him, and when Ilya pulls away twenty seconds later, his eyes are blissfully shut. He looks like he’s waiting on his next instruction.

“Will you tell me what I need to do?” Ilya hums, peppering a row of kisses across Shane’s jawline. “This is your show. I’m just here to help. To keep you company and be an extra set of hands. I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Shane groans and presses forward to sink his lips against Ilya’s again, his body sparking back to life now that he has an active task to throw himself into.

Ilya pulls him close to his chest and sighs into the kiss, letting his hands slip fully around the span of Shane’s waist and lower back whilst digging his fingers into soft, perfect skin that’s plagued all of his wildest dreams for the last decade. He could sit here all evening kissing Shane breathless against the wall, and it would never get boring, but they do have to get moving if they expect to meet their company for the evening on time, so Ilya reluctantly pulls away to meet Shane’s hazy eyes.

Shane grins lazily up at him, pressing his hand into Ilya’s muscled abdomen. “You’re so fucking hot,” he laughs, cheeks flushed from exertion as he surveys Ilya in appreciation.

“You’re one to talk,” Ilya teases, digging his fingers into Shane’s sides to tickle him momentarily before reaching for his hands. “Alright. How do you want me?”

Shane’s lips quirk into a little smile as he darts in to press a kiss to the corner of Ilya’s mouth. “Make me some tea?” He prompts, and Ilya nods in agreement.

“Of course, моя любовь,” Ilya agrees easily, returning the gesture with one more peck to Shane’s lips.

He’s well aware that Shane has a bottom prep routine. Well…his Shane had a routine for practically everything, after all, but with this, he was meticulously private. Ilya knew he didn’t do it every time they had sex—considering Shane’s diet was pretty well structured on its own—but it was still something he wondered about. He and Shane had very few secrets between them, very few boundaries left uncrossed, and especially since this one hit so close to home when it came to their very active sex life, it seemed only natural to learn Shane’s process for this as well.

Still, he’s picked up on a few things just by watching Shane so closely these last four months. His Shane was a creature of habit. Ilya knew about Shane’s tea—how he’d fill a mug and settle in front of the TV for a good twenty or thirty minutes before silently slipping off to the bathroom to relieve himself. He knows the tea comes from a pink box that’s always shoved to the back of the cabinet, hidden away like a dirty secret. Ilya walks over to that cabinet now and pulls that box out front and center. Ginger peppermint green tea, the box reads, and Ilya selects one tea bag, placing it into a clean mug before grabbing their electronic kettle to fill it with water.

“Boil some extra water for me, please,” Shane requests, as he sidles up to him in the kitchen.

Ilya obliges and then pulls Shane into his side, Shane’s head lolling on his shoulder while they wait silently for the water to heat up.

Their kettle is pretty speedy, so luckily, it doesn’t take too long until it reaches the desired temperature. Once it does, Ilya pours just enough water to fill Shane’s mug, and then he watches in open curiosity as Shane pours the rest into a bowl before reaching for a container of plain table salt. Shane measures out some of the salt to carefully spoon it into the bowl, using the same spoon to mix the salt until it starts to dissolve into the hot water. Ilya tips his head when Shane picks up the bowl with a clean towel and tucks it away in the fridge.

When Shane turns back to him, Ilya presents the hot cup of tea to him with two careful hands.

“Thank you,” Shane preens, touching Ilya’s chest warmly. “Will you carry it to the living room, please?”

Ilya doesn’t have to be asked twice, happily and readily following Shane over to their big, plush couch. He places the mug down on the coffee table for a second while he piles on top of one of the cushions and starts to get himself comfortable.

Shane does the same, sitting close to Ilya while tucking his legs up under himself so his bent knees are resting on Ilya’s lap. Ilya reaches one long arm out for the mug and hands it off to Shane with a sweet smile.

“Here you are, мои ангел,” Ilya says softly while placing the warm mug in Shane’s palms. “Let me know if it is okay.”

Shane leans over the glass and inhales, letting his eyes slip shut, like the smell is a comfort to his senses.

Ilya wonders if this is the first step to Shane’s process of getting in the right headspace for their scene tonight. Maybe the smell of the tea kick-started his brain to trigger his ultra-mega kitty sub bottom extraordinaire mode. But if it did, the only thing Shane had to show for it was hazy eyes and a relaxed expression, one he directs to Ilya after a moment.

“Can you put on some TV?” Shane requests.

“Absolutely,” Ilya obliges, reaching for the remote as he throws an arm over the back of Shane’s side of the couch. “Any requests?”

Shane flushes and ducks his head a little before meeting Ilya’s gaze once more. “Tom & Jerry?”

Ilya raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t argue, searching the show up to put on an episode at random. He glances over at Shane to see if he’s done well, but Shane’s eyes are already wide at the way Tom is cleaning himself as Jerry starts to sneak up on him. Ilya watches as Shane takes a sip of his tea on autopilot.

Ilya smiles and directs his attention to the screen as well, but he finds his gaze drifting back to Shane more often than not. Shane, who goes into high alert every time Tom jumps ten feet in the air. Shane, who looks like he wants to start pawing ferociously at the screen whenever Jerry completes a successful run back to his mouse hole. Shane, who’s drinking his tea in measured sips like he’s got the timing of this down to a science. And when the tea is finally done, he doesn’t even look over as he silently hands the empty mug back to Ilya to discard on the edge of the coffee table.

The episode is exactly 25 minutes long, and Ilya can’t help but think the timing of that was probably intentional, because when the credits roll, Shane quietly dismisses himself to the bathroom. Ilya rubs over his leg, giving his thigh a squeeze, and accepts the warm kiss that Shane plants on his lips before departing.

Ilya lets the next episode of Tom & Jerry roll on auto-play, smiling to himself when Tom’s owner steps into view, although their face has deliberately been left out of frame. The owner is scolding Tom for making a mess—Jerry’s mess, really—but it doesn’t matter because Ilya would never scold Shane like that, regardless of whether it was his fault or not. Tom’s owner probably shouldn’t either, considering how sad it seems to make him. Ilya makes a mental note to take extra good care of Shane tonight, especially since they could potentially have their own version of Jerry running around and trying to stir up trouble.

Fifteen minutes later, Shane returns with his lower lip pulled between his teeth.

“All good?” Ilya double-checks, and Shane nods, so Ilya clicks off the TV. “Do you want me to get the bowl from the fridge?” Another nod. Ilya rises with a big stretch of his arms over his head and then heads off to retrieve what he assumes to be the prep solution before going to meet Shane in the bathroom.

When he gets there, Shane’s stripped down to his boxers, and he’s fiddling with his hands nervously. Ilya sets the bowl on the counter before stripping to his boxers as well.

“What are you doing?” Shane says in confusion, his eyebrows pressing together.

Ilya shrugs. “I figured it would make you more comfortable if we are both naked.”

Shane’s expression softens slightly, but he still looks hesitant. “Are you sure you want to be in here for this? It’s really gross.”

“Hey,” Ilya frowns, shaking his head as he stalks over to cup Shane’s cheek. “There is not one thing about you that I find gross. You are not the only gay man on the planet, Shane. Lots of people do this. It is completely normal and natural, and if you ever wanted me to bottom for you one day, I would probably need to do it at some point as well.”

Shane wrinkles his nose in obvious distaste, and Ilya laughs at his inability to shield his blatant revulsion towards the idea.

“What? You do not want me bottoming for you?” Ilya asks, tipping his head in question. “You have never been curious?”

“Have you?” Shane shoots back, but his face is now wearing a mix of genuine fear and concern.

“Curious? Yes,” Ilya relents, because of course he’s wondered what it might be like. With the way Shane looked like he was in absolute heaven every time Ilya fucked him good and hard, Ilya had to assume there was something to it. Something worth trying at least once.

“I—” Shane stutters, shaking his head in disbelief, like Ilya’s just suggested death by execution.

Ilya decides to put him out of his misery before he has an aneurysm. “Shane, relax,” he soothes, rubbing his hands over Shane’s defined arms. “I am curious, but that doesn’t mean it’s something I want. I was only trying to say I’d be open to it if you wanted to try it out. I am perfectly happy with the way our dynamic works.”

Shane lets out a massively huge sigh of relief as he sinks into Ilya’s touch. “I…no. I’ve fucked girls before. Trust me, I don’t think anyone wants to get fucked by me as much as I don’t want to fuck anyone.”

Ilya laughs warmly and pulls Shane into a hug against his bare chest, rocking him gently from side to side for a moment. “Look, all I am saying is that if we switched off, this would be something that we both do. And I do not find it gross or disgusting or whatever word you want to use. It is part of our sex life, and I want you to be comfortable in your body around me, no matter what. We are going to be married very soon. And that means in sickness and in health, yes? That means I will be taking care of you when you are old and gray, and I will not be put off by any single thing that comes with being with you because I love you. We are gay, and that means that, sometimes, we clean out our assholes. It is part of our lives, and I will not shy away from things just because we are taught, socially, that they should make us uncomfortable.”

-

Shane head-butts Ilya’s chest in response, squeezing him tightly around the middle. He loves him so much that he thinks his heart might physically break out of his body sometimes. He doesn’t know how his skin and cells and tissues can even contain the beating, bursting thing inside of him that grows bigger and louder with each passing second. “You’re so fucking cool,” Shane lets out a wet laugh, and he can feel Ilya smiling into his hair.

He knows what unconditional love is, of course. He knows his parents are supposed to love him no matter what. That even if he’s injured or sick or dying, his mom and dad will always support him. Will always be there to lift him up, or take care of him, or make sure he has what he needs. But it’s a whole other thing to have someone else promise that to you. Someone who is not related by blood, who hasn’t grown you from their body with the expectation that you’re always going to need them. That they’re always going to be in your corner, no matter if you do something wrong or bad or stupid. Ilya promises him the world with no strings attached. Shane isn’t sure he’s even real.

“I do not want to rush you, моя любовь, but if we expect to meet Ivan and Cedric on time, we probably have to get moving,” Ilya tells him lightly, and Shane sniffles, nodding quickly against him. When he pulls back slightly, Ilya is watching him with an unguarded expression, wearing all of his emotions on his face like it costs him nothing to express his love so freely. Like he isn’t afraid because he knows Shane could never look at him any differently.

“I know you know this, but I really do love you a lot,” Shane feels the need to say, because the words never really felt like enough.

“I will never get tired of hearing you say it,” Ilya smiles down at him, thumbing over his freckles. “Now, how can I be of service to you, my liege?” Ilya purrs, nosing over Shane’s hair.

Shane giggles and squeezes Ilya’s hips before stepping back to take a deep breath and psych himself up for what’s to come. “Okay.”

He starts by going to their bathroom counter and pulling out a fresh towel to lay on the ground in the space between the bathtub and the toilet. Then, he retrieves the bulb and his preferred bottle of lube. Lastly, Shane grabs the bowl of saline and puts it and the other items along the edge of the bathtub.

“What happens first?” Ilyas asks, looking between Shane and the bowl.

“I like to start in the bathtub,” he explains shyly, looking down at himself for a moment before hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxers to push them off.

“Okay,” Ilya nods, and Shane watches in confusion when Ilya tugs his own boxers down as well.

“Um, you don’t really need to be naked for this…”

Ilya just smiles at him. “I figured you wouldn’t mind the view.”

It jolts a surprised laugh out of Shane as he surveys Ilya’s body in appreciation. He definitely didn’t mind the view. “Um,” Shane clears his throat, picking up the bulb from the side of the tub. “Then, I take this, and I fill it with the saline.” Shane demonstrates by dipping the tip of the bulb in the water and squeezing the top until it fills up. “Do you want to…do you want to help with the lube?” Shane asks, recognizing that Ilya is still waiting to be told what to do. It’s weird to think that Shane is the one leading right now, but he can’t deny how good he feels when Ilya steps forward at his request.

Ilya reaches for the bottle of lube, snicking it open before he holds his hand out so Shane can give him the bulb. “Just lube up the tip of it?” He double-checks, eyeing the pipette-like tube that comes attached.

Shane swallows and nods. “Yeah,” he replies raspily. “Lube it up really well or else it could tear something.”

He feels a little thrill when Ilya’s eyes lock in, like the fact that Shane has mentioned this can cause him harm if not done correctly has given Ilya a newfound sense of purpose. He squirts a generous amount of lube across the entire length of the tip and then uses his hand to coat it from top to bottom.

“That’s good,” Shane comments lightly, once he deems it enough, and he gently takes the bulb from Ilya when it’s presented to him. Shane inhales another deep breath and tries to slow his racing heart. It’s just Ilya who’s with him. He’s in the presence of someone he trusts.

He doesn’t even know why it’s so scary, why it’s making him feel so vulnerable, but there’s something about cleaning out your insides that feels like it should be done in the dark. With no witnesses and no evidence. His tea stays hidden in the back of the cabinet, his bulb usually shoved underneath a pile of towels like a shameful murder weapon, and Shane would do anything to avoid being caught at the scene of the crime. By the time Ilya came around, the bathroom would be clean and spotless, the weapon stashed away. No fingerprints. No accomplices. No proof that Shane was ever even there at all.

But he was a fugitive on the run. And he’d put so much effort into hiding that he’d forgotten he wasn’t wanted for anything. In fact, the act that he was so scared of being found committing wasn’t even a crime. Why was he trying so hard to avoid slipping up? Why did the threat of being caught feel like it would earn him a life sentence? A record that would follow him forever.

“Maybe, um. Maybe I could show you how I usually do it?” Shane suggests, while trying not to feel like he’s in a glass box.

Ilya reaches out to pet at Shane’s abdomen like he can’t resist touching him. “Я бы очень этого хотел.”

Shane furrows his eyebrows momentarily, distracted from the task at hand by the sudden physical contact and shift in language. “I would really like that?” He tips his head, checking his translation.

Ilya smiles and rewards him with a kiss, letting his hand slide down to cup one of Shane’s ass cheeks. “Very good, kitten. Show me what you do next.”

Shane feels himself react to the pet name, especially with the way he’s standing naked on show for Ilya right now. He’s a cat letting his owner in on his meticulous grooming routine. He’s a pet to be observed. An animal. He has no boundaries with his owner. His owner just wants to take care of him.

Shane tips the bulb and squirts a little bit of it out just to make sure there are no air bubbles. He also lets some drip onto his fingers to double-check that the saline is around room temperature. “I’m, um, getting out any air and making sure the temperature is safe,” he explains, since Ilya is watching him with attentive eyes.

Shane lifts one foot up on the edge of the tub and then reaches behind him to carefully press the tip of the bulb into his hole. He closes his eyes and bites back a small noise when it sets into place. Doing this part with Ilya watching him feels euphoric. It’s making him a little hazier than normal.

And then, Shane starts squeezing the saline up inside of him while counting to five. “1…2…3…4…5,” he says aloud for Ilya’s sake, and his voice is shaking. Shane forces his eyes open to find Ilya looking at him with his pupils blown. It sends a shiver down his spine that pumps blood straight into his dick.

Shane carefully steps out of the tub, taking Ilya’s hand when offered to him. He steps onto the towel and then takes another step until he’s standing on the bare floor.

“Um, so, you’re supposed to move around a bit. To…you know,” he stutters, gesturing to his torso in a circular motion. Loosen things up, his mind supplies, but his mouth refuses to say the words. He figures his silence is answer enough. “So, I like to do yoga poses.”

Shane isn’t expecting the huge smile that overtakes Ilya’s face.

“What?” Shane frowns at the reaction.

“No, nothing,” Ilya waves off. “It’s just, of course you are doing yoga while douching. That is such a Shane thing to do.”

Shane shrugs. “I am Shane, so.”

“You are cute.”

Shane flushes, but he has to keep things moving, so he lowers himself partially to the ground in order to get into downward-facing dog. He’s surprised when Ilya takes up the spot next to him and tries to mimic his position.

Shane glances over at him and feels his mouth go dry at the sight of Ilya doing naked yoga. He wasn’t as limber as Shane, but what he lacked in flexibility, he made up for in the way his muscles strained, rippled, and flexed deliciously against the bathroom light.

Eventually, Shane shifts to a regular plank, and after about thirty seconds of stretching has passed, he rises back to his feet. The next part was the part he was most uncomfortable with. Ilya seems to notice his hesitation.

“The toilet next, yes?” Ilya asks gently, hovering next to Shane near the bathtub.

“I—yes,” Shane nods jerkily, eyes darting to the toilet before back to Ilya in quick succession. “Are you sure you want—”

“Shane,” Ilya says carefully.

“It’s just that sometimes it can smell—”

“I have been to the bathroom before. I am very aware of the smells the human body can produce, but if you want me to step outside, then I will.”

Shane forces himself to sit on the toilet because he needs the solution out of him already, and he can’t deal with putting this off any longer. He shuts his eyes tightly and lets go. There’s a whooshing sound as the water drains out of him and into the toilet. He feels like crying from embarrassment, but Ilya’s hand sinks into his hair before Shane can start spiraling, his warmth radiating off of him from where he’s stepped in front of Shane.

Shane doesn’t fight it as Ilya tugs him by his hair to fall forward against his abdomen. Instead, Shane sucks in a deep breath and feels tension bleed out of him at the familiar smell of Ilya’s skin filling his senses. He lets gravity assist in grazing his face across Ilya’s hard abs until the wiry hair of Ilya’s treasure trail grazes against the soft suppleness of his cheek.

“Good boy,” Ilya tells him encouragingly, while scratching his fingers against Shane’s scalp in the way that always makes him melt. “Oh, you’re so good for me, baby. My sweet, sweet kitten.”

Shane is practically panting against Ilya’s skin. He feels separate from his body right now. His two worlds that have never met before are suddenly both in the same room with him, and Shane is struggling to find how all of the pieces are supposed to fit together. He feels like he’s entered an alternate reality.

“Stand up,” Ilya commands, and Shane’s body acts on autopilot as he rises to his feet.

He’s vaguely aware of Ilya shutting the toilet and flushing the contents, but it’s distant enough from his current headspace that he doesn’t have to worry. He’s listening to Ilya right now. He’s being good.

“Back in the tub now, yes, baby?”

Shane shivers and nods.

“Alright. In you go,” Ilya declares, holding Shane’s hand to help him balance as he steps into the tub once more.

This time, Ilya takes over, almost like he can sense that Shane is starting to feel buzzy now that the worst part is over. He’s a fast learner, Shane notices. He goes through the motions the same as Shane had shown him last time, starting by filling the bulb. He doesn’t have to be told to reapply lube to the end of the nozzle, and he coats it just as generously, if not even more so than last time, like he’s hyper-aware of Shane’s warning about tearing something if they aren’t careful. Shane blinks at him when he even squirts a bit of extra lube on his fingers, warming it slightly before jerking his chin in Shane’s direction.

“Foot up on the edge. Bend over a bit for me,” Ilya continues to instruct, like Shane didn’t teach him how to do this for the first time not even two minutes ago.

Still, Shane hesitantly moves into the position, gasping when he feels Ilya’s fingers massaging lube against his hole, dipping within him slightly to coat the inside of his rim. He can hear drips of water fall to the floor of the tub as Ilya squeezes out any remaining air bubbles before pressing the tip against him.

Shane moans lightly and digs his nails into his raised knee when the nozzle breaches his entrance. Then, Ilya squeezes the water continuously for five seconds, counting at the exact same pace as Shane had before.

“There you go, my angel,” Ilya says softly, placing the bulb aside before coming up behind Shane to kiss his neck and glide his hand across Shane’s chest, all the way down to his tummy. “Come. Let us do yoga now.”

Shane’s heart flutters as Ilya takes his hand once more and then leads him to the floor for more yoga. This time, they do cat cows.

“This is much better than downward dog,” Ilya sighs in relief as they approach the end of their thirty seconds. “Is probably because cats are way more amazing than dogs.”

Shane smiles and flushes all over. Then, they head to the toilet for the final step of round two. Shane isn’t as embarrassed this time. He’s following Ilya’s instructions, hanging onto Ilya’s every word, Ilya’s every praise. Because he keeps telling Shane how good he’s doing. He’s talking to Shane in that comforting voice. The one that makes him feel like everything’s going to be okay. That he doesn’t have to worry about anything because Ilya’s going to take care of him. Because Ilya always takes care of him.

They repeat that process a few more times. They do warrior 1 and warrior 2, and they even attempt a tree pose, but all of that is upended when Ilya loses his footing and nearly takes himself out, very narrowly avoiding clipping his head against the edge of the bathtub. Luckily, Shane’s all clean on his next rinse.

But Shane is nothing if not thorough, which means he usually likes to insert a butt plug before deeming himself fully clear. Sometimes, there could still be extra water trapped inside him, so as Shane saw it, it was better to take the time now rather than risk the surprise later. As expected, Ilya doesn’t require too much instruction on the butt plug front.

-

“Feel alright, sweetheart?” Ilya double checks, petting over Shane’s back from where he’s on his hands and knees in the tub. Ilya’s got a finger looped through the end of a normal-sized butt plug, pushing it in slightly as Shane stretches to accommodate.

Shane drops his head and nods once or twice. He’s a little hazy around the edges, a lot looser than he was when they started this process—both figuratively and literally—but Ilya can tell he’s still lucid.

He’s not talking much, probably because this is clearly some type of meditation for him. Some warm-up of his own that he likes to partake in before they even get to Ilya’s warm-up for them. Ilya is content to watch him, to observe and offer comfort or guidance where needed. He’s not turned on right now; he’s just tuned in.

“Mm,” Shane lets out a small, impatient noise, so Ilya presses the plug the rest of the way in, reading Shane’s reactions to inform his next move like he usually does. “Ah,” Shane breathes in satisfaction, and Ilya smiles at the way he practically sinks forward into a cat stretch.

Ilya leans down to press kisses across the length of his vertebrae, glad to have the extra time to spend with Shane, even if it’s only thirty minutes he would have otherwise had to spend alone. Ilya didn’t care. He’d spent a lot of his time alone. Frankly, he was sick of alone time. Being around Shane felt too good. It healed too much inside him. It didn’t matter if it was cleaning, laundry, errands; Ilya wanted it with Shane—no matter how boring, no matter how gross or ordinary or downright miserable said task might seem—he wanted it all. If Shane was there, Ilya would be better off for it. He’d be happier. Brighter. More alive, probably, his heart beating faster to pump more blood and serotonin into his contrarily bleak brain.

Ilya lets Shane sit just like that for a moment, his ass up, his face pressed into his folded arms in front of him. Ilya presses onto the plug once or twice, but mostly he just pets over Shane’s skin, grazes his nails down Shane’s back to watch the way he reacts with a flurry of goosebumps. After a few minutes, he gives Shane a warning before slowly pulling the plug from him, a few additional trickles of saline flushing out with it. Ilya thumbs over his hole to hear Shane moan prettily for him, and then he gets in the tub so they can both have a quick rinse.

Unfortunately, they’re on a bit of a time crunch, so Ilya isn’t able to worship Shane the way he’d really like to right now. He’d have later to do that, though, and Ilya knew the evening ahead of him would not disappoint.

By the time they get to the club, it’s five minutes past 11pm, so Ilya quickly ushers Shane in through the back door while simultaneously shooting Cedric a text to let the other pairing know that they have arrived. Ilya opens the door to his office, guiding Shane forward with a firm hand on the back of his neck.

“Sit for me, котенок,” Ilya murmurs, pressing him into the warm fabric of the blue couch.

Shane follows the instruction beautifully, clearly already feeling a little out of his head from their warm-up activity for the evening.

Ilya hasn’t given him his ears yet, and he doesn’t plan to, at least not until they can get through their discussion about boundaries. As much as Ilya liked to indulge Shane by letting him go down, he recognizes that it’s extremely important he’s present and aware for this particular conversation. Engaging in a scene with another pairing was no joke, so Ilya was determined to do this as diligently as possible—for Shane’s comfort, of course, but also for his own.

Shane seems relaxed and quiet at his side, waiting patiently like a very good kitten, which Ilya thinks is a good headspace for him to be in right now. It was better than Shane being hyper and overeager to play like he could sometimes get when anticipating a visit from Ivan. Either way, Ilya feels comforted by the fact that he’s pretty tuned in to Shane’s boundaries at this point, enough that he feels he could probably set the limitations to this scene with little to almost no input from him. If Shane was even half-human right now, that would certainly be enough to ensure they were both on the same page.

Shane’s eyes widen in curiosity when the knock comes at the door, and Ilya gives the top of his head a little pet before stepping over to answer it.

“Hello,” Ilya greets, offering Cedric a smile when his face is the first to come into view. “Sorry we’re late. We had to run home after the game, and it took a bit longer than expected.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Cedric waves off, good-natured as always. “Ivan was showing me around the club, anyway. You really outdid yourself with this one. I think I may even like it better than Hush.”

“You’re not the first person to have told me this,” Ilya grins toothily. “Make sure to let Sveta know next time you see her, would you? She will be glad to know so many people think I am the superior designer between us two.”

Cedric lets out a laugh. “I absolutely will.”

“Come in, come in,” Ilya ushers them forward, spotting Ivan lingering behind Cedric in the doorway. “Hi, Ivan. Good to see you again. I trust you had fun at the soft opening the other night?”

“Loads of fun,” Ivan agrees with a smile. “Your team is awesome, by the way. I’m glad you guys clearly have such a good support system around you.”

“Yes, actually Troy and Harris will be joining us to hang out for a bit before the playdate. They are both really interested in the scene, so I figured it would be great for them to spend some time with you and Cedric as well.”

“Troy’s the one who came early, right?” Ivan double-checks as he and Cedric step fully into Ilya’s office. “The one who already knew about Shane?”

“Correct,” Ilya nods in affirmation.

“And he and Harris are together?” Cedric chimes in, trying to get caught up on the situation. He waves to Shane upon spotting him, and Ilya turns in time to see Shane flush shyly in response.

He recognized Shane would probably need some time to warm back up to Cedric again before their scene, which was why Ilya had structured their night in such a specific way. First, they’d talk boundaries, but having time to mingle with Troy and Harris at the club would give Shane some time to prepare himself for what was to come. Shane’s headspace could be a fragile line to walk, but luckily, Ilya practically had it down to a science by now.

“They are both extremely into each other, but they haven’t really taken that next step. We are hoping that tonight will give them the push they need to make it official,” Ilya explains. “Almost like a triple date. I think spending time with the four of us in our element will be very eye-opening to them.”

“Ah,” Cedric nods in understanding. “And you think they are a good match as well?”

“Oh, yes,” Ilya insists without hesitation. “I have seen it with my own eyes. They are a clear pairing. I think Harris has some light experience in the scene. He has expressed he is more interested in Domming, which works out perfectly because Troy is a clear sub, in my eyes. He and Shane are becoming very, very close.”

“Hey, what about me?” Ivan frowns, plopping down on the couch next to Shane, who immediately falls into Ivan’s arms for a big hug. “Hi, cutie. Did you have a fun Halloween? I heard you were a fancy leopard.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees quietly, rubbing his face against Ivan’s neck before pulling away to offer his nails up.

“Oh my goodness,” Ivan smiles in response, taking Shane’s fingers in hand when presented to him. “These are awesome. Did Ilya pick these out for you?”

The corners of Shane’s lips turn up as he nods in confirmation.

“Very, very cute, котенок. I’m pretty sure you could pull off any type of kitty cat,” Ivan tells him honestly, and Ilya is endeared by how much Shane seems to take that compliment to heart.

“Alright, well.” Ilya claps his hands together, looking between his three counterparts. “We should probably get started, yes? Troy and Harris will be here soon, and I do not want to leave them for too long on their own. They will be a little out of their depth, and I told them we would meet them out there around 11:30.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Cedric agrees. “Ivan, come over here and sit with me, please?” He requests, gesturing Ivan over with one hand as he situates himself on the other available couch.

Ivan offers Shane one last curl of his lips and gives his hand a squeeze before standing to follow Cedric’s instruction, while Ilya slips into the spot that Ivan has just departed from. He wraps an intentional arm around Shane’s shoulders and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead before turning back to their present company.

“So, Cedric and I have already established some hard limits for our scene based on everyone’s comfort levels. I want to be clear that I will not be touching Ivan in any way, and Cedric will not be touching Shane. This is strictly a playdate between pets, and our role will be as handlers to our own sub only. Of course, exceptions may be made in the form of light friendly touches such as head pets or something similarly non-invasive. Cedric and I believe it is probably okay to make those judgment calls in the moment, at the discretion of the Dom, the same as we would at any pet event. Does everyone feel okay with that?”

“All good on my end.” Ivan gives a thumbs up.

“Baby?” Ilya double-checks, redirecting his attention to Shane as he gives his shoulder a squeeze. Shane still looks a little mentally wiped from being so vulnerable earlier, so Ilya gives him an out to make this process a bit easier until he can find his bearings again. “Why don’t you just give me your color? Green if you are good, yellow if you’re not sure, and red if you’re uncomfortable,” Ilya offers.

Shane looks relieved at having been given a multiple-choice option in a language he’s already very familiar with. “Green,” he says easily, sinking a little closer to Ilya’s side.

“Good,” Ilya comments softly, giving Shane a small scratch in reward. “To make things simple, I think it would make sense for each pet to abide by the typical rules we have in our pairing. I do not want to confuse Shane by setting up specific expectations for this scene alone. He knows when to ask for permission versus when he is allowed to act freely. I assume Ivan knows the same. That way, there is no misunderstanding about what might be perceived as bad behavior by each Dom. Again, this should be similar protocol for any pet event. I do not see any problem with how we handled it at the last one.”

“I agree,” Cedric nods, slinging an arm over the back of the couch as he scooches closer to Ivan. “Ivan will follow my rules, and Shane will follow yours. For anything else that comes up, we can check in as needed,” Cedric tells Ilya.

“Perfect,” Ilya says as everyone else voices their approval. “Now, let’s get into some pet-specific behavior. And this is regarding what Cedric and I are alright with between Shane and Ivan,” he clarifies before continuing. “I think we have both said that sniffing, cuddling, nuzzling, and some playful wrestling is completely fine. I am also alright with Shane licking Ivan or Ivan licking Shane, as long as they stick to areas that are appropriate. Biting is okay as well, but not if it is intended to cause harm, and certainly nothing that breaks the skin. Cedric and I will be on guard to intervene if anything goes too far. I think that probably applies to most scenarios as a general statement, too.”

So far, everyone is on the same page, so Ilya resumes with the rest of his mental checklist. They go over boundaries about gear. Ilya knew Shane could have trouble sharing sometimes, so Cedric has brought some of Ivan’s toys along, just so no one feels put out or like their territory is being infringed upon. Ilya also feels the need to mention Shane’s sensitivities towards correction or comparison. A little playful competition between pets was probably fine, but Ilya knew Shane would react poorly to any insinuation that he wasn’t Ilya’s best kitty, so they make it a boundary to be mindful of verbiage when engaging in shared activities.

“Okay. Let’s talk about sexual behavior. I know Shane tends to get a little frisky when he is excited and in the right headspace around someone he trusts. Considering what happened at the last event, I think it is safe to assume Ivan is the same?”

Cedric glances over at Ivan to find him grinning bashfully. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for pretty, kinky boys.”

Ilya narrows his eyes slightly at Ivan, but thankfully, Cedric chimes in before he can comment.

“I think we were both a little surprised by how far Ivan went down that night. Shane is really convincing, as I’m sure you know, so we should prepare for the fact that they both might reach a point where instincts take over.”

“I think that would be wise,” Ilya voices in return, squeezing Shane’s shoulder when he shifts restlessly against him. “I am perfectly okay with pets being pets. Letting off extra energy, chasing things that feel good because they do not know any better—that is fine with me. I draw the line when it becomes more than that. I am not sure what you have planned regarding attire or tail attachment, but I am not comfortable with full nudity or anything too revealing below the belt if humping is on the table.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Cedric shakes his head. “Ivan likes to be shirtless for nipple play, but below the belt, he’ll be properly clothed. I brought his harness and his plug as tail options depending on how he is feeling, but if you are worried about the plug, we will just stick to the harness.”

“No, I think the plug is totally fine if that doesn’t raise any red flags with you for Ivan. Shane will be wearing his plug, but I’m prepared to remove it if it becomes a problem,” Ilya expresses.

“We will play it by ear,” Cedric decides. “I think the plug helps Ivan go down a bit more, but if he’s already somewhat down from the club, we may go with the harness.”

“Kissing is a hard limit for me,” Ilya says next. “I am okay with pet behavior, like I said, but human kissing, absolutely not.” He pauses before adding, “The point of this playdate, at least to me, is to allow each pairing to explore the social aspects of pet play that cannot be explored comfortably at club events. I just want to be abundantly clear that this scene is still primarily between Shane and I, and you and Ivan. The point is not for Shane and Ivan to get off together. It is to allow Shane to have all the pet experiences that his kitten heart desires, and it is for you and Ivan to learn more about your dynamic.”

Ilya’s eyes flicker over to Ivan, whose lips slowly curl into a big smile.

“What?” Ilya raises his eyebrows in question.

“No, nothing,” Ivan laughs, shaking his head. “It’s just hot. How possessive you are over him.”

Shane is suddenly a fierce presence at his side, and if he were more in his kitten mode, Ilya reckons he’d be growling lowly in his throat. Instead, he’s gripping Ilya’s knee tightly, like Ivan is threatening to come over and take Ilya away from him.

“Котёнок,” Ilya says lightly in warning, giving Shane’s shoulder a squeeze before pulling him closer.

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Ivan adds, gesturing to Shane this time. “Considering who you’re engaged to.”

Except for now, Ilya is the one who’s on high alert.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two had gotten engaged. Congratulations,” Cedric voices before Ilya can do anything rash, like call this entire thing off. “And ignore Ivan, please. He’s just perpetually horny, but both of us understand what this is. We’re here to have fun with another pairing, not to come between you and your котенок,” Cedric vows, reaching over to cover Ivan’s mouth when it looks like he’s about to speak again. “I promise he will be on his best behavior this evening, because if he isn’t, he’s going to have a punishment waiting for him when we get back to Montreal. And unlike last time, I will not be going easy on him,” Cedric says pointedly.

Unfortunately, it’s the wrong thing to say around Shane in a discussion like this, and Ilya can feel the way he tenses up in fear at the word punishment, like somehow Shane would be implicated in whatever hardcore pain play Cedric clearly had in mind for Ivan.

Ilya grips Shane by the back of his neck and pulls him close until he falls face-first into Ilya’s chest. “We will need to discuss language as well. Shane is not comfortable with that word in a scene. Anything that is meant to help improve behavior, we refer to as training.”

Cedric takes his hand off of Ivan’s mouth and slides it across his thigh instead. “Training, got it,” he corrects immediately. “Look, if I’m being honest, I am mostly here to learn from you two. I really admire the care with which you approach your dynamic, and I’ve never had anyone react to me the way that Shane reacts when he’s with you. If I can make Ivan feel even half as good as that, I’d be pretty ecstatic.”

“Well, I did feel really good last time,” Ivan interjects. “And to ease your worries, Ilya, yes, you and Shane are both hot—”

“Ivan,” Cedric warns, glaring at him.

“Okay, he thinks so, too. Don’t let him fool you.” Ivan rolls his eyes, jerking a thumb in Cedric’s direction. “But, my point is, we know you and Shane are like…not on the menu. It’s just that, last time, we got a little taste, and it sort of helped us cook up something pretty delicious on our own.”

Ilya snorts at the analogy, rubbing a soothing hand over Shane’s back as the other slowly starts to unfurl and relax in his arms. “I am glad we helped inspire you. And you are not the only ones searching for new things to try. There is a lot that Shane and I have not explored yet. It is nice to have another pairing who is interested in the same things we are.” Ilya offers up a soft smile, eyes dropping to Shane when the other lifts his head from Ilya’s chest. “Are you alright, baby?” He hums, running his fingers through Shane’s hair.

Shane nods, pursing his lips expectantly, and Ilya easily meets him halfway with a kiss.

“Mm, hello there. You are very sweet. You are with me still, yes? You are following along with the conversation?”

Shane sighs and nods again. “Are we almost done? You said I could have my ears,” he reminds Ilya, and Ilya can tell he’s starting to get a little restless.

“Almost, baby. We still need to discuss a few more things, and then, I am going to walk you out, so we can go meet Troy and Harris.”

Shane furrows his eyebrows, presumably at Ilya’s choice of words. “Walk me out?”

“Correct,” Ilya validates, reaching to link their fingers together. “I have a few things that I would like to discuss with Ivan and Cedric in private.”

Shane’s mouth falls open slightly, his eyebrows scrunching up even further as he goes to protest. “But why—”

“Because you like to be surprised, моя любовь. Do you not?” Ilya raises his eyebrows, eyes searching Shane’s as he awaits an answer. “Or if you prefer, you can stay while we talk through the rest of the scene?”

“I thought…I thought we were just going to play like last time,” Shane voices unsurely, his gaze darting from Ilya over to Cedric and Ivan.

“We are going to play,” Ilya confirms, running the pad of his thumb over the back of Shane’s from where their hands are still intertwined. “But Cedric and I had another activity planned as well.” He tips his head momentarily, reaching up to cup Shane’s jaw with his free hand as he surveys the other. “Maybe it is best if we talk it through, hm?”

“No,” Shane stutters out, shaking his head. “I mean,” he huffs, ducking his gaze for a moment before meeting Ilya’s blue eyes once more. “Maybe just some of it? Just to make sure.”

Ilya smiles and bumps their foreheads together to press a kiss to Shane’s cute button nose. “Of course, sweetheart. I still had some stuff I wanted to go over with the four of us. Let’s finish the rest of our conversation, and then you can decide if you want to know the rest or if you would rather find out later.”

“Okay,” Shane nods jerkily, a tiny smile working its way onto his features as well, so Ilya gives him a kiss on the lips this time.

“So,” Ilya clears his throat, opening himself up to Cedric and Ivan again. “The Doms thought it might be fun to do our version of pet training school. We were wondering how you two might feel about sucking us off while in the same room.” Ilya scratches his fingers through the back of Shane’s hair before he can work himself into any type of panic. “We have some pet-related incentives to motivate you, and we do not have to be in view of each other for what Cedric and I had in mind.”

“Shane and Ilya would take one corner of the room, and Ivan, you and I would be across from them. Ilya said the chairs are big enough to block each other out if we set the room up correctly. The training would still be a group activity, but we would split into our respective pairings before getting to anything sexual,” Cedric clarifies, glancing around the group to try and gauge everyone’s thoughts.

Ilya tips his head down to look at Shane, finding the other already staring back at him. When their eyes meet, Shane swallows, Ilya zeroing in on the way his Adam’s apple bobs against his throat. “Hey,” Ilya says gently. “If you are not comfortable with this idea, I’m not going to be upset with you, and neither will Ivan or Cedric,” he assures, giving Shane’s neck a reassuring squeeze. “We are doing this for fun. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Shane tightens his fingers around Ilya’s hand. “I…I don’t want anyone watching me.”

“No one’s going to be watching you,” Ilya vows, bringing Shane’s hand up to press his lips to the back of it. “Cedric and I will have our backs facing each other on opposite sides of the room. You and Ivan would each be on your knees in front of us, and with the distance between us, as well as the dimensions of the armchairs, everyone will be completely shielded. I will only be looking at you, and you will only be looking at me.”

Ilya waits as Shane seems to take in that information. He watches Shane’s thoughts flit over his face, mildly aware of Cedric and Ivan deliberating amongst themselves somewhere in the distance, but all Ilya can focus on is Shane.

“If I say yes, am I still allowed to change my mind later?” Shane questions tentatively, and Ilya’s face falls at the idea that Shane feels he needs to ask that in the first place.

“Baby.” Ilya’s eyebrows pinch in concern. “You are always allowed to color out if you no longer feel like you want to do something. It does not matter what we agreed upon ahead of time. It does not matter if we are right in the middle of it, if we have just started, or even if we are nearly done. If you are uncomfortable with anything at all, at any moment, you tell me and we will stop immediately, okay?” He cups his jaw again. “That’s what our colors are for. And if you cannot color, then you will give me your paw squeezes, yes?” Ilya double-checks, waiting until he gets a nod in confirmation.

Shane collapses into his chest heavily, Ilya letting out a soft grunt on impact as he brings his arms up to wrap around Shane. “I’m green,” Shane murmurs into his neck, and Ilya almost doesn’t remember what they were even talking about, but then, it hits him.

The playdate, right. Blowjobs with Ivan and Cedric in the room. A continuation of Ilya’s big kitty training school adventures with Shane, only this time, they had a puppy and his handler joining them.

“We’re going to check in very often with each other,” Ilya promises, pressing his lips to Shane’s hair. “If there’s ever a point where you no longer want to do this, then we don’t have to, okay? I will not be disappointed. I just want you to feel safe and enjoy yourself,” he says quietly, rocking Shane in his arms.

Shane’s rumbling purr is answer enough.

They get through the rest of their discussion with ease. If anything goes wrong and they feel they need to split up into separate rooms, Shane and Ilya will navigate to Ilya’s playroom, while Ivan and Cedric will remain in the club’s pet-themed playroom. They talk about aftercare, how it’ll be handled separately unless anyone feels differently in the moment, and they go over all the scenarios for what to do if someone has to color out or safeword. After thirty minutes of talking everything over, Ilya feels confident that they’ve covered every avenue that they possibly can in order to execute this safely.

Ilya looks down at his watch and curses when he notices the time, unlocking his phone to find a text message from Harris.

“Alright, give me one second,” Ilya says to Cedric and Ivan. “Troy and Harris have arrived, so I want to drop Shane off with them. There is one more thing I want to discuss with the two of you.”

“Am I gonna get my ears?” Shane pouts, tugging on Ilya’s shirt as he rises to his feet.

“I will get you your ears very soon, princess. Come with me, please,” he requests, wiggling his fingers at Shane until the other takes his hand, Ilya immediately pulling him to his feet.

Then, he leads Shane out of his office and heads into the club to find Troy and Harris. It isn’t hard. The two of them stick out like a sore thumb, hovering in between spaces like they aren’t sure if they want to grab a drink from the bar or check out the dancefloor. The club is already in full swing, so Ilya can imagine it’s a bit overwhelming for anyone who maybe doesn’t go to places like this very often.

“Hey,” Ilya greets, placing his hand on Harris’ shoulder to grab his attention. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he expresses, glancing over to Troy. “You had no issues getting in, yes? Member cards worked?”

“Oh, yeah. It was super easy,” Harris assures him, offering him and Shane a big smile. “Good to see you guys. The club looks totally different with the DJ and all the people dancing. The effects are so much cooler when it’s in full swing.”

“Why aren’t you wearing your ears?” Troy questions, watching Shane curiously. “I thought he likes to be a cat in the club.”

Ilya sighs when Shane huffs and headbutts his shoulder. “Yes, I know. And he is always a cat,” Ilya says, giving Shane a reassuring rub before he can get all grumpy. “I just have to finish my conversation with Ivan and Cedric, and then I will run to my playroom to grab them.”

“Your playroom?” Troy repeats.

“Yes,” Ilya replies only semi-patiently. “Look, I will be happy to chat and answer any questions you have once I am done, but for now, it would be a great help if the two of you could watch Shane for me.”

“Sure,” Harris replies, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“It is fine.” Ilya waves off gruffly. “Just ten minutes. Go to the bar. The man, he is named Silas. Tell him you want some of my special vodka for Shane, and then order something for you and Troy. Whatever you want. Just tell him to put it on my tab. After that, go find us a table with enough room for six, and I will meet you over there soon.”

Harris nods in understanding. “Yeah, sure. We can do that. Shane’s always welcome to hang with us.”

“Shane, baby.” Ilya turns to Shane next, placing two hands on his shoulders. “I am going to be right back, okay? I’m going to grab your ears for you. Will you be good for me while I’m gone?”

“I’m always good,” Shane mutters crossly.

“Yes, you are always good,” Ilya agrees with a curl of his lips, cupping Shane’s neck this time. “And you were very good staying up with me for our discussion. I need you to keep staying up while I talk to Cedric and Ivan.”

Shane’s expression narrows curiously. “For…for the surprise part?”

Ilya lets out a breath. “For the surprise, yes. You may like surprises, but Ivan does not, so we will talk about it and then come to meet you out here, hm? Does that sound okay?”

Shane looks like he’s mulling it over, but then all of a sudden, he’s nodding and offering Ilya a warm smile, pressing forward to give him a kiss.

Ilya laughs as their mouths meet, pressing one, two, three kisses to Shane’s perfect kitten lips before squeezing him tightly. “I am going to miss you while I am gone, котенок. Don’t forget to miss me, too.”

“I love you,” Shane offers instead, which Ilya will gladly take.

He loves Shane, too. So much. Which is why he’s not messing around with this whole ‘Ivan seeing other Doms’ bullshit.

“We need to talk,” Ilya says seriously once he’s back in his office, shutting the door resolutely behind him as he turns to face Cedric and Ivan.

“Is this about the clicker training?” Ivan asks. “Because Cedric already talked it over with me and I don’t have any issues. Unless there’s something we need to know about Shane?”

“No, this is about you, actually,” Ilya replies evenly. “I did not get a chance to speak to you in private the other day and I did not want to have this conversation over the phone. You mentioned you are seeing other Doms. Are you seeing them sexually? Because if you are—”

“Ilya,” Ivan scoffs, eyes flickering pointedly to Cedric.

“No, I am serious,” he doubles down. “I asked the two of you to get tested, but if you have seen someone else in the time since, then I need you to tell me that. I will not put my kitten at risk. I do not think I am being unreasonable by bringing this up.”

“You’re not,” Cedric chimes in, raising his hand slightly to get Ilya to pause before he turns to Ivan. “You know I do not mind if you see other people, but you also know you’re supposed to tell me if you are,” he mutters.

“I know that,” Ivan argues, shooting Ilya a glare. “I’m not fucking seeing anyone, okay? I had one dinner. Just a fucking conversation. Nothing happened between us, and of course, I have not been with anyone else since getting tested.”

Ilya feels his shoulders start to loosen as a layer of stress bleeds out of him.

“Is that okay? I mean, do I have to come to you every time I speak to someone or—”

“Of course not,” Cedric huffs, rolling his eyes. “You are free to do what you want, Ivan. I don’t own you. You have made that very clear.”

Ilya’s eyes flicker between them. “I am sorry for bringing up what seems like an uncomfortable topic, but I am sure you can understand my need to clarify these things.”

“It’s fine, Ilya. I’m glad you brought it up,” Cedric admits, and a moment later he puffs a sigh. “And you are right, Ivan. You don’t have to tell me every time you speak to someone. But if it does start to go further than that—”

“I’ll tell you,” Ivan interrupts, nodding heavily. “I wasn’t, like…trying to sneak around or anything. I just got a call from an old flame, and he wanted to meet for dinner. That’s it. It hasn’t gone any further than that.”

Silence hangs in the air after that statement, the implication that it may go further at some point, but that’s not any of Ilya’s business. Not right now, at least. He does make a mental note to check in if they decide to do something like this in the future. As much as Ilya enjoyed spending time with Cedric and Ivan, he had no interest in subjecting Shane to sexual play with anyone who was sleeping around—no matter how tame that sexual play may be.

“Alright,” Ilya breaks up the tension in the room. “Shane is waiting on me to grab his ears, but if you would like some privacy to continue talking, my office is all yours. We’ll be sitting at one of the tables with Troy and Harris whenever you’re ready to come join us.” He casts one more look between the two of them before rising to exit his office and head towards his playroom.

-

“So, are you excited for your playdate tonight?” Harris asks conversationally as Shane sips shyly at his drink.

He doesn’t love being at this new club without Ilya by his side, but he trusts his friends to help keep him safe. Plus, he knows that if anything happens, Ilya isn’t too far away. He tries to remind himself that he isn’t in any real danger. It’s just a leftover instinct from something unfortunate that happened, but he’s alright. Really, he is.

“Yeah,” Shane nods, eyes darting over to Troy, who looks a little nervous as well. He doesn’t like the idea of Troy feeling nervous at the club, so he sits up and tries to put on a brave face, hoping that it will inspire his friend to feel more confident. There was nothing to be scared of. Ilya’s club was a place to let loose and have fun.

“Ivan seems really nice,” Harris continues, and Shane appreciates that he’s trying to fill the empty air between them with light conversation. Like maybe he understands Shane is a little on edge here without Ilya to keep him grounded.

“He is, yeah,” Shane smiles, even though he’s sick of being human. It’s been an exhausting night. Between winning their hockey game, having Ilya help him with his bottom prep, and getting through their discussion with Ivan and Cedric, all while trying to stay up, Shane was well overdue for some kitten time. He’s starting to feel overwhelmed with how much human stuff he’s had to take on today, but he knows there’s a big reward waiting for him at the end of the night, so he tries to hold strong to that thought as he continues to power through. “Cedric is, too. He’s, um, newer. To the scene.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harris leans forward in interest. “I’m excited to meet him. I haven’t known a lot of people in the BDSM community before. I mean, an old boyfriend of mine was into it, but he was coming out of a complicated situation, so. My introduction was brief and kind of isolated. I’ve always found it interesting, though.”

“I’m still pretty new to it also,” Shane shrugs, flushing slightly as he takes another sip of his drink. He fights the urge to check what time it is. Surely, Ilya was almost done, right? He’d have to be here soon.

“But, you know so much,” Troy interjects, and Shane is grateful he’s decided to join the conversation.

“Well, that’s just because he has a really experienced Dom to teach him,” Harris reasons. “Plus, I’m sure there’s a shorter learning curve when your boyfriend literally owns a BDSM club.”

“Fiancé,” Shane corrects him fiercely, narrowing his eyes a bit as he feels his kitten instincts threatening to take over.

Troy shoots Harris an urgent look.

“Fiancé, that’s right,” Harris immediately concedes. “Wow. That’s still so insane to think about.”

“What is?” Shane frowns.

“Just the fact that you two only got together this summer. I mean, I know there were feelings before that, but still. It just…” he pauses, shaking his head before offering Shane a smile. “It makes me believe in true love. Is that, like, really stupid?” Harris laughs.

“Not at all,” Troy chimes in, looking Harris over carefully. His gaze drifts to Shane a moment later. “Do you believe in it? I mean, is that what you have with Ilya? True love?”

Shane doesn’t get a chance to answer before he feels someone touching his hair, and he doesn’t even have to turn his head to check who it is, feeling the weight of the kitten ears settle on top of his hair. Shane’s world suddenly starts to shift, a cloud washing over him as he’s finally given the permission to let go. To go down. To be himself.

“Of course, it is true love,” Ilya hums, giving Shane’s scalp a good scratch that makes Shane want to melt into the ground below them. “Shane is my soulmate. He knows that. And, one day, everyone else will know it, too.”

Shane swallows thickly and starts pawing at Ilya to try and get him to sit down because, fuck. Shane needs him so badly. He’s needed him all day. He needs Ilya to drown out his senses, control his thoughts, touch every inch of his desperately buzzing skin.

“Hi, angel,” Ilya greets him warmly, sinking down into the spot next to him.

Shane responds by tugging Ilya close, and laving his tongue across the span of his owner’s neck.

“Good boy,” Ilya praises quietly, and Shane whimpers at how good it feels to be talked to like that.

“Can I—” He gasps desperately, his claws catching on the fabric of Ilya’s shirt.

“Yes, baby,” Ilya acknowledges, petting over his hair intentionally. “You have been on your best behavior for me. You can go down to level 2, but no further, alright? I’m going to be keeping an eye on you. Let’s save level 3 for a little bit later when we have our playtime, yes?”

Shane nods emphatically and scrambles to try and get into Ilya’s lap.

“Alright, alright,” Ilya laughs, adjusting himself a bit so Shane can perch comfortably on top of him while still facing their friends to participate in the conversation.

“Hey, Ilya,” Harris smiles in greeting. “Did your discussion go okay?”

“Oh, yes,” Ilya redirects his attention to Harris this time. “We are good to go for later tonight. Shane and I met with them earlier to discuss our boundaries and make sure we are all on the same page for our scene.”

Shane grumbles and head-butts Ilya’s chest, causing Ilya to roll his eyes in amusement.

“My kitten and I,” he relents, giving Shane a pet down the expanse of his back. “Excuse him. He is ready to go into his headspace. We have been talking about the playdate for many hours at this point, so he is a little impatient to go down. I apologize if he is a tiny bit feisty in the meantime.”

Troy smiles at Shane’s behavior. “I think he’s cute when he’s acting like a kitten. He seems a lot more himself.”

“He really does seem just…at ease,” Harris nods in agreement, watching the way Shane is nuzzling into Ilya’s neck.

“Yes, he will be even more so when Ivan and Cedric come to join us. Actually,” Ilya pauses, and Shane’s cat ears twitch in high alert. “There they are now. Cedric,” he calls, waving the two of them over.

Shane sits up and jerks in that direction, curling his paws protectively around Ilya’s neck as he searches for his puppy friend. Ivan’s got his ears on now, but he still looks pretty human when he walks up, which causes Shane to eye him suspiciously. He has no idea what to do with all these pets who are pretending to be people. Shane’s gaze drifts to Troy, then back to Ivan, and finally, to where Ilya is watching him fondly.

“I know, baby. Ivan takes longer to warm up than you do, remember? Not everyone can slip into their kitten space like that.” Ilya snaps his fingers, and Shane just blinks at him in confusion.

Is he going to get to fucking play with these puppies or not?

“Hey, kitty,” Ivan smirks, pulling up a chair next to Shane. Cedric slips into the seat beside him and places a hand over Ivan’s knee, but Shane is still focused on sizing Ivan up to notice anyone else.

“Hi, I’m Harris. It’s nice to meet you,” Harris introduces himself to Cedric.

“You are the new Dom, right?” Cedric smiles, reaching over to shake Harris’ hand. “And this is your sub?” He nods to Troy, whose eyes go wide.

“Uh, not quite,” Harris laughs, sparing a glance at Troy before turning back to the group. “I mean, yes, I’m interested in learning more about the scene. As a Dom,” he corrects.

“Oh.” Cedric furrows his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. I thought…” he trails, looking over to Ilya in confusion.

Ilya rolls his eyes. “They are very interested in each other. I don’t know why both of them are too scared to make a move, especially considering how obvious they are, but that is none of my business, I suppose.”

“Woah, that’s not true,” Harris disputes. “We…I mean, we did kiss last night—”

Ilya offers him a bored look while Shane busies himself with batting at the engagement ring on Ilya’s necklace. “They kissed when they were drunk, then Harris dropped him off last night without making a move, so Troy is freaking out because he thinks that means Harris doesn’t like him.”

“Ilya!” Troy shouts, at the same time as Harris proclaims, “What?”

Ivan snorts loudly. “Jesus, Rozy. Just putting everyone’s business on blast tonight, aren’t you?”

Ilya shrugs, unbothered.

“You think I don’t like you?” Harris frowns, addressing Troy directly this time. “I thought we had a good time last night.”

“We did,” Troy insists, while fiddling with his hands nervously. “But I’m the one who kissed you, and then, when you dropped me off, it sort of felt like you were, I don’t know…” Troy trails. “Not interested, I guess?”

“I am so interested,” Harris laughs, his eyes scrunching up and crinkling at the sides. “Like, seriously. The most interested. But you were drunk when you kissed me. I wasn’t sure you really meant it. I didn’t want to be too presumptuous by thinking it meant anything.”

“I am sorry, but this is killing me,” Ilya butts in once more. “Can you two please just fucking kiss or something? As someone who pined after Shane for ten years, I simply cannot watch this go on for any longer. We are in a sex club, for god’s sake. You came here together.”

It pulls a laugh out of Ivan and Cedric, but Shane is too caught up in sniffing Ilya’s neck to care. He’s been desperate to go down all day. Now that he’s finally been given permission, all he wants to do is soak in Ilya’s scent.

Troy’s eyes dart to Harris uncertainly. “Do you want to—”

Shane turns sharply at the sudden gasp, and his kitten eyes go wide at the sight of Harris surging forward to kiss Troy, his soon-to-be puppy friend, positively melting in the other’s grasp.

“Puppy,” Shane whispers into Ilya’s ear, and Ilya just smirks and holds him closer.

“Maybe, котенок. Only time will tell.”

Shane purrs and lets himself relax a little further, pressing his forehead to Ilya’s as the other’s nails rake up and down his back. He’s feeling really good. This club has good energy, and the fact that it’s helped bring Troy and Harris together is a good omen. Shane really hopes he can have another pet playdate soon, but first, he has to get through this one.

They spend the next hour doing their best to socialize. Well, Shane’s doing his best, anyway. He’s getting really fucking impatient, though. He’s got a nice, clean hole that’s just waiting to be plugged up for his tail. Ilya looks hot, as per usual, but he’s even hotter when he’s playing club owner and ordering everyone around. And as much as Shane wanted to be Ilya’s one and only sub, he also liked the idea of Ilya being so in charge that even the other Doms listened to him.

“You can put your arm around him, you know? He’s fucking dying for it,” Ilya comments to Harris, nodding in Troy’s direction.

Shane bites his neck hard and ruts up into him a bit, panting into Ilya’s neck while Ilya groans.

“Fuck, baby. You’re doing a number on me tonight.”

Troy smiles when Harris slyly scoots closer to cuddle up to him.

“So, you guys are interested in learning more about pet play?” Cedric asks conversationally as the waitress comes around with more drinks.

Shane makes grabby paws for one, but Ilya keeps him in check by the hood of his jacket.

“No more drinks for you, солнышко. I need you level-headed for playtime,” Ilya murmurs into his skin, pressing a round of kisses down his neck.

Shane digs his claws into Ilya’s curls and tries to climb into his skin, but Ilya continues to hold him in place.

“Patience, baby, please. We are hanging out with our friends right now. I will take you to my playroom soon to give you what you want. You will have to be good for me, though.”

“I think so,” Harris nods in answer to Cedric’s question, biting back a smile as he looks down at Troy under his arm. “I mean—sorry. I am, at least. I think it’s really cute. I’ve never really been exposed to it, but the way Shane is with Ilya is just…”

“Yeah,” Ivan comments, eyeing Shane heavily. “They’re fucking hot together. Playing with Shane is the first time I’ve ever gone into puppy space before.”

“Puppy space?” Troy repeats, crinkling his eyebrows.

“It’s like subspace, but more puppy-focused. That’s when you go full-on pup and start acting entirely on instinct. It’s a total headfuck, but in like the best way possible,” Ivan smirks, taking the glass when Cedric passes him a drink.

“Like how Shane does?” Troy realizes, and Shane sits up in immediate awareness once he notices eyes on him.

“Well, not exactly how Shane does,” Ivan snorts. “I’m pretty sure Shane’s kitten space crosses, like, actual astral planes with how far he goes.”

Ilya’s lips quirk from where they’re pressed against Shane’s skin. “Shane has different levels to his kitten space. We have had to develop a system to keep him from going too far. That is why it is also very important for him to have places like the club. Places where he can go as far down as he wants, and still hang out, without having to feel scared or unsafe.”

“Is he down all the way right now?” Harris asks, casually tracing his fingers over Troy’s shoulder.

Troy shivers and sinks closer in response.

“Mm, no,” Ilya says fondly, while petting over Shane’s tummy. “He is only about a level 2. Level 3 is technically the furthest, but there are levels to that as well. He is a complex kitty. He is very, very sexy when he goes down all the way,” Ilya hums, pulling Shane close by the waist as he presses their foreheads together.

Shane giggles and squirms a little in Ilya’s grasp when he digs his fingers into Shane’s sides.

“Can confirm.” Ivan wiggles his eyebrows, but Ilya turns sharply to address him before that statement can linger for too long.

“No,” Ilya replies firmly. “You have not seen Shane when he is all the way down, and you will not, because that is only for me.” Ilya looks around at everyone pointedly. “And, trust me, he is better than you could ever imagine. He is something out of my wildest, wildest dreams,” Ilya mutters hungrily against Shane’s lips, before claiming his mouth in a bruising kiss.

Fuck. Shane has half a mind to call this whole playdate off and have Ilya whisk him away to his playroom for the rest of the night, but a playful woof from Ivan causes him to pull away with a wide-eyed mewl. He can’t help it. His kitten ears are sensitive, and right now, his kitten senses are tingling.

“Please,” Shane begs into Ilya’s neck, rubbing his nose along the scruff of Ilya’s two-day-old stubble.

“You are ready for playtime, baby?” Ilya double-checks, gliding his hand over Shane’s upper thigh, kneading at the skin there.

Shane pants against him, nodding his head desperately. He wants his toys. He wants to meow and run around and wrestle with his friend. He wants his training. He wants Ilya to pet him all over.

Ilya stays close to Shane’s face as he turns slightly to meet Cedric’s gaze. “Do you think you will be good to start in thirty minutes or so?” Ilya asks when Shane starts nipping needily at his neck. “I’m going to take him to my playroom to get him ready.”

Shane moans and licks a little more eagerly against the column of Ilya’s throat, grazing his teeth across Ilya’s Adam’s apple.

“Jesus.” Ilya sucks in a breath, gripping onto Shane tightly.

Shane feels fucking frantic right now. He wants Ilya to take him apart. His skin is so sensitive to the way Ilya’s scruffy cheeks feel against his speckled fur. He can’t stop rubbing, craving the cut of Ilya’s sculpted jawline across his fluffy kitten face. He wants to get endlessly closer. He winds his arms further around Ilya’s neck to try to get Ilya to squeeze him with all his might.

“Uh, yeah,” Cedric says slowly, raising his eyebrows as he takes in the scene in front of him. “Same as Hush, right? With the special menu items?”

-

“Man’s Best Friend,” Ilya gives him the menu item their party is listed under, while Shane continues to attack him like he’s gone rabid.

Jesus Christ, Shane was going to fucking kill him tonight.

He’s got a hand in Shane’s hair now, trying to keep the other off of him long enough to be able to get them where they need to be, but his kitten is absolutely relentless. Ilya wants to fucking eat him alive. He needs a few minutes alone to just…suck on Shane’s face. To kiss him ferociously, to suck the air from his lips, to remind him of who the fuck he belongs to. They may be in the company of others tonight, but Ilya was going to make damn sure Shane remembered that he was always only ever going to be Ilya’s at the end of the day.

“Harris, Troy, you are welcome to stay as long as you want. This is your club now, too. Please feel free to put drinks on my tab,” Ilya manages, before Shane surges up to bite him on the neck. “Holy fuck,” Ilya grits out, and his eyes slip shut momentarily as he clutches onto Shane tightly.

“Wow,” Troy whispers, with Harris jerkily nodding his agreement.

“Okay, fuck. We are going,” Ilya says suddenly, rising to his feet and using all his strength to pull Shane along with him. “Sorry. I’ve got to— yeah,” he stutters, hissing out another gasp when Shane’s claws dig into his torso this time. “Ты сводишь меня с ума, котёнок,” Ilya practically growls into Shane’s ear as he whisks him off in the direction of the playroom.

“I want my tail, too,” Ivan begs, leaning further into Cedric’s space to blink his brown puppy dog eyes up at him.

Ilya can’t focus on anything else except for hauling Shane off to his playroom by the scruff of his neck.

“You are such a ridiculously sinful creature,” Ilya tells him roughly, as Shane makes delicious mewling, whimpering sounds into his ear. Ilya’s cock is already coming to life in his black jeans, and while he usually had the patience to refrain from getting off before Shane—since his kitty was always desperate and usually got off more than once—he wasn’t sure how he planned on holding off this evening.

Still, they’ve got a checklist of items to get through before they meet Ivan and Cedric in the pet-themed playroom. Shane needs his tail plug, for one, and Ilya’s also purchased him some special new paw socks and hand gloves for his most perfect, best-in-show kitty.

As soon as he gets them to his ocean-themed playroom, he falls backward onto the bed and pulls Shane on top of him, squeezing the other’s ass as he sucks Shane’s tongue fiercely into his mouth. Shane is letting out these delectable whines that are making Ilya want to devour him whole, pressing his hips forward to get Shane to grind down against him.

“Oh, god, baby,” Ilya moans, sucking a series of hickeys down the side of Shane’s neck just to hear the wrecked sounds that pour out of him in response. “You get hotter every fucking day. My precious little kitten. So needy for me, aren’t you? You just need your owner to take care of you, hm? Shut your stupid, little brain off so I can do all the thinking for you, sweet angel. Isn’t that right?”

Shane shuts his eyes tightly and nods against Ilya’s neck, rubbing his face all over while he tries to get a grip on reality.

He was going down far and fast, Ilya could tell, but that was okay. Ilya wanted it just as badly as Shane did, maybe even more, and with another away week coming up, Ilya knew this would be their last chance to indulge like this for a while.

Being in the closet fucking sucked. They lucked out on the situation with their team, Ilya knew that, but it didn’t make hiding from the rest of the world any easier. Ilya had Shane Hollander’s ring around his fucking neck, and not one person outside of their close circle of friends knew that. Ilya was getting sick and tired of how bigoted hockey could be. Next time Shane scored the winning goal, maybe Ilya would skate right up to him and give him a big, fat kiss. And not on his helmet either. On his mouth. In his hair. All over his body, until Shane was tingling, high off the fact that Ilya was loving every inch of him with the entire world as his witness.

“Everyone’s gonna know about us one day,” Ilya tells him indulgently, groaning when Shane presses his sharp fangs into Ilya’s exposed shoulder as they continue to wrestle each other into the bed. “Fuck hockey. Fuck Russia. Fuck anyone who has anything to say about it,” he gasps out a breath. “We’re gonna have the same last name on our jerseys next year,” Ilya vows, even though he has no idea how to make that happen or if it’s even possible.

Unsurprisingly, Shane is slipping a lot further with all the filth that Ilya is spilling into his very susceptible ears, so Ilya decides it’s time to move along to the cat accessories before Shane is too kitten brain-dead to make it through the rest of their plans tonight. Shane starts running around the bed like crazy when Ilya pulls out the paw socks.

“Oh my goodness,” Ilya laughs, because he could never get enough of Shane when he got the zoomies. He was mouth-wateringly adorable on the average day, but when his kitten behaviors surpassed even level 3, Ilya had to fight really hard to keep his shit together. He has half a mind to fuck into each one of Shane’s holes right now until he’s a crying kitten-y mess. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you dressed so we can go play with our puppy friend, hm? We do not want to keep Ivan and Cedric waiting.”

Shane halts abruptly on his hands and knees, tilting his head in mild confusion at the words coming out of Ilya’s mouth, but Ilya just shakes his head fondly and approaches to show him the socks and gloves.

“Look, cutie,” Ilya hums, holding up the thickly padded black socks with 3D pink and white kitten toe beans on the bottom. There are little speckles of black on the white toes, since Ilya was a very thorough owner who liked to buy his angel the best custom items from only the most expensive sellers around.

He feels his heart clench when Shane looks up at him with a devastating kitten pout, and his dick throbs when those big, brown eyes threaten to water around the edges.

“I know, handsome boy. I take such good care of my pet, don’t I?” Ilya coos as he helps Shane toe out of his shoes to get his socks on. The socks were mainly for decoration, since Shane would likely be on his hands and knees most of the night, but the gloves served an actual purpose to help protect Shane’s precious wrists. His kitty was a prize-winning kitty, after all, which meant his comfort was of utmost importance.

Shane keeps head-butting him and nuzzling against Ilya’s curls, scenting him while Ilya tries to get him situated. He’s overly affectionate and getting cuter by the minute, letting out an impatient meow when Ilya hasn’t looked up at him to accept his kitten musings, too engrossed in the task at hand.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Ilya smiles at him once he’s finished sliding the socks over Shane’s precious feet and ankles. He lifts one of the newly adorned kitten feet and presses his lips all over the top of the fabric, exaggerating the sound as he playfully munches on Shane’s toe beans.

Shane growls excitedly and pounces up, wrapping his paws around Ilya’s neck to pull him back onto the bed, and Ilya laughs as he catches himself before he can crush the tiny creature under his weight.

“Oh, you are such a good boy for me. My baby is so playful and silly right now, isn’t that right?”

Shane whimpers and licks the prominent mole on Ilya’s cheek, laving his tongue over and over until he’s effectively slobbered all over Ilya’s cheeks, lips, and nose.

Ilya just closes his eyes and savors the feeling of being worshipped by his best boy. It’s like he has tunnel vision right now. He feels like a fucking god. His fingertips are buzzing from where they’re pressed to Shane’s hipbones. The room around him has entirely disappeared, and the only reality that exists is the writhing, needy creature beneath him. Ilya could ask for anything and Shane would bend over backwards to comply.

“You were just made for me, weren’t you?” Ilya hums, raking his fingers through Shane’s soft hair just to feel the other rumble in response. “No one else could do what I do to you, and you know that. You’d beg me to make you feel this way, wouldn’t you? If I told you you couldn’t,” Ilya breathes a taunting sort of laugh. “If I forbid you from going into your kitten space, refused to talk you down, ignored you every time you tried—”

Shane sniffles and licks at Ilya more incessantly, like the thought of that is making him worried. Anxious. Ilya gives his scalp another scratch as a distraction.

“Oh, you’d beg until you were crying and desperate. You’d get me off any way I wanted you to. You’d be a perfect little sub trying to convince me. Anything to get me to make you my good, good boy again, wouldn’t you? If I asked you to go to the seediest bar you could find and let every man in there use you until you reeked of cum—”

Shane shakes his head and hiccups a broken sound.

“No?” Ilya double-checks, taking advantage of the distraction to start slipping the paw gloves onto Shane’s hands. “You wouldn’t do anything I asked? Wouldn’t give yourself over in every way possible in order to please me? In order to make me happy?”

Shane sobs out, trying to pull his paw away to wipe at his teary eyes, but Ilya just keeps him in place until the pad of his paw is sitting properly against the palm of his hand. Then, he reaches for the other one.

“I think you would. I think if I wanted you to, you’d set yourself up in one of those truck stop bathrooms, press your pretty lips against the grimy gloryhole in one of the stalls, and take any dick that presented itself to you—”

“Red,” Shane cries out, shutting his eyes tightly as he shakes his head. “Red, red, red.”

Ilya drops Shane’s hand like ice and sits back to try and remove some of his weight from where he’s perched in Shane’s lap. He feels like he’s been slapped in the face. He feels like a white, hot branding iron has been pressed down his throat.

But Shane just cries harder once Ilya gets off of him, and for the first time in a long time, Ilya doesn’t know what to do. He thought their night was going so well. He’s so zeroed in on Shane right now that he doesn’t know how to separate himself enough to figure out what the problem is.

“Okay, sweetheart. Sh, you’re okay,” Ilya whispers, unsure if Shane wants to be touched or left alone right now. “We’re pausing. Everything is okay. You’re with me, yeah? Just tell me what you need.”

“Tell me I’m yours,” Shane begs, and he’s crying even harder now, big sobs ricocheting out of him like bombs on a battleground.

And, fuck. Ilya understands exactly where he went wrong. Shane didn’t want fantasies right now. He didn’t want Ilya to talk about others using him, about Ilya denying him and making him work for it. Right now, Shane needed his loving and devoted owner. He needed Ilya as his husband, his Alpha, his one and fucking only.

“You are all mine,” Ilya promises, crawling back over to wrap Shane up tightly in his arms. He’s grateful when Shane immediately grabs onto him with a vice-like grip. “Oh, I’m so sorry, precious. I didn’t mean any of it. I would never, ever let anyone else touch you, fuck. I was just…I was being stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I should have known you didn’t want to be talked to like that right now. Since you’re being my best good boy.”

Ilya swallows thickly as he clutches onto Shane until no space between them exists, Shane’s legs linked around his waist while he inhales deeply within the confines of Ilya’s chest.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into Shane’s ear. “Just take a deep breath, hm? God, you’re so good for me always. I love you so fucking much. My little baby omega. Don’t you know you’re always going to be mine? Going to be my husband soon enough, and that means no one gets to touch you but me.” Ilya nips at his neck and smiles when it pulls a moan out of Shane. “There’s my boy. Just come back to me, okay? You’re right with me.”

Shane shudders and nods. His eyes are still closed, like he’s trying to find his way back to that good place, so Ilya just continues to graze his fingers lightly over Shane’s back as he attempts to soothe him. Shane sniffles, and Ilya can feel a few stray tears dripping into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Always been mine. I’m the only one who’s ever been inside of you, haven’t I? That’s never going to change,” Ilya promises. “I’ve been in love with you for so fucking long. Wanted you ever since I first saw you, and that’s because you’re my soulmate, isn’t it? Tell me,” Ilya demands.

“I—” Shane tries, hiccupping as he hugs Ilya tighter. “M’your soulmate.”

“You are, baby.” Ilya nods against him. “My soulmate. Everything I do is for you. Spend all my money on you, don’t I? Making sure my sweet kitten has everything he needs. Spoiling my baby with all the best supplies. Feeding my kitten. Grooming him.” Ilya punctuates that statement by licking Shane’s cheek.

Shane laughs and tries to squirm away, but Ilya just pulls him closer.

“Mm, don’t try to escape from your Alpha, baby. I need to scent you to make sure no one ever forgets who you belong to.”

Shane moans, and Ilya can feel the way all his limbs have started to relax again. Ilya rubs over his arms, his back, his ass, his muscular, thick thighs. He presses kisses across Shane’s neck and then pulls Shane’s collar from beneath his shirt to tug on it intentionally.

“As long as you are wearing this, no one will ever question who you belong to. You’re mine, aren’t you? Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” Shane nods emphatically. “Fuck, I’m yours. Please. Fuck. I’m green.”

Ilya lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay. Okay, good. Good boy. Do you want your tail still?”

Shane whines loudly and tries to rut down against him.

“Alright, baby. I’m going to get it for you. Do you…do you still want to play with Ivan today or—”

Shane wiggles his hips even more incessantly, nodding his head so fast that he nearly gives Ilya a concussion when their foreheads bump together.

“Okay, kitty. Thank you for using your colors. You are so fucking good for doing that. So fucking good for knowing your limits, god. I never want to make you feel that way—”

Shane cuts him off with a desperate kiss. A real, hard human kiss that has Ilya panting for breath by the time Shane finally pulls away.

Noted. Shane wanted him to shut the fuck up and get back to the scene. A temporary fuck up in an otherwise really, really good thing they had going. Ilya tries not to let it get to him.

The whole time he’s fingering Shane open, Ilya is on high alert. Dom space, his mind flickers warningly, as he becomes hyper-aware that that’s what he was feeling before Shane colored. He’d been deeply attuned to Shane, had felt energized by how far down he was going, a sense of confidence that made Ilya feel more in control. Now, though, he was overprotective. Worried about their upcoming scene with their friends. But Ilya would just have to be extra attentive to Shane’s needs. He’d have to make sure Shane never questioned just how possessive Ilya was over him.

By the time Shane is prepped and ready to go, they’re both feeling a little better. Shane’s got a fresh set of whiskers drawn on, as well as his pretty heart nose. His tail is in and swishing beautifully behind him. He’s got black satin pants similar to the ones he wore last time, but the ribbons that tie around his tail are baby pink. He has one of Ilya’s hoodies over his bare chest, one that’s been freshly scented, though Ilya thinks that will come off with time once they start playing. He’s already stashed the pet playroom with all the necessary supplies ahead of time.

After going through Silas to get the key card for their room this evening, Ilya leads Shane by the hand until they arrive at the correct door, knocking sharply to signal their arrival. When Cedric opens the door, he looks flushed and sweaty, and Ilya blinks once before looking past him to try and get a sense of Ivan’s state. Given Shane’s reaction to Ilya’s dirty talk about others using him, he wants to be very intentional with the tone of their scene tonight. He wants to make sure Shane stays focused on him, even when he gets swept up with Ivan.

Luckily, Ivan looks perfectly relaxed lounging on the fake grass on one side of the room. It’s a split pet playroom, which Ilya thought might come in handy when he was designing it. One side is set up for dogs, the other for cats.

Ivan is shirtless in a pair of loose basketball shorts, and Ilya notices that his nipples are pierced, a chain hanging between them that’s connected to each bar. When he looks down, he finds Shane’s gaze is drawn to it, too. Like a cat mesmerized by a string.

“Hey guys,” Ivan greets with a lazy grin. His dog ears blend perfectly with his hair, and Ilya can tell Shane is already sinking back into that super cat-like state just by looking at him. That, and the fact that the cat side of the room is totally decked out in soft, cuddly areas, human-sized climbing posts, and massive scratching posts that extend all the way up the wall.

Shane grips onto Ilya’s hand tightly, digging his claws into his skin, but Ilya knows Shane isn’t trying to color right now. More so, he’s trying to keep himself under control until Ilya gives him the okay to go wild.

“Good boy,” Ilya tells him softly as he leads them forward, walking Shane right over to one of the large, comfortable cat beds. The armchairs he and Cedric will be using for training later are in corners on either side of the room, and there’s a big set of drawers that Ilya has already temporarily stashed to the brim with Shane’s toys. Ilya presses Shane down into the cream cushion of the cat bed and then carefully sits down with him, smiling when Shane immediately pushes up into his space for pets. “There’s my boy. Hi, gorgeous. Aw, thank you for being so good for me, kitten. I really appreciate that.”

“Guess Shane’s ready to go,” Ivan chuckles, as Cedric shuts the door resolutely behind them.

“Come on, pup.” Cedric snaps his fingers. “Let’s follow Shane and Ilya for a bit while we try and get you in the right headspace.” He sits down on the grass and then gestures for Ivan to come to him.

-

Shane watches the other pairing curiously, big eyes drifting occasionally back to Ilya as he tries to make sense of what’s going on. His tail is pressed deliciously up inside of him, and Ilya’s hand is grazing over the bare skin of his back under his oversized hoodie, Ilya watching him with a slightly dazed smile.

“Feeling good, baby? This room is really nice, yes? I made it with you in mind,” Ilya tells him.

Shane just catapults into his arms, knocking Ilya back into the cat bed as he gives his necklace a playful swat.

Ilya looks up at him with an incredibly fond expression before glancing over at Cedric and Ivan. “We will plan for around two hours, yes? One hour of playtime and another for training. If we decide we want to start training a little early, that is okay, but no more than two hours. My kitten needs his rest for our travel day tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cedric voices his approval, giving Ilya a big thumbs up. “Do we wanna break into some toys now?”

“I was thinking some grooming would be a good warm-up activity,” Ilya suggests instead. “I want to get my kitty comfortable in this room before bringing any group dynamics into the mix. Here,” Ilya pauses, reaching into one of the nearby drawers to grab two brushes. “I think it’ll be a good way for your pup to observe and sink into some of those puppy behaviors as well. I have treats set aside, too.”

Shane lets his tongue hang out of his mouth in excitement at the idea of getting a treat. That meant he was going to have to be a very good boy tonight. Ilya had probably set aside a lot of treats for Shane since he was always, always on his best behavior, and Shane wants to earn every single one of them.

“Yes, I know, baby. Some blueberries for my sweet boy. Some freeze-dried strawberries—”

Yummy, Shane thinks, leaning forward to swipe his wet tongue over Ilya’s cheek.

“You will have to be good for me first, though.”

So, Shane pauses and starts kneading his kitten paws into Ilya’s tank top, panting a little while he tries to hold on to his excitement. And when Ilya smiles, sitting up to glide a brush through the back of Shane’s hair, Shane practically melts into his lap, rubbing his cheek all over Ilya’s muscular chest to try and get closer to the sensation.

“There are some puppy cookies for your boy,” Ilya tells Cedric from some far-off place, but Shane is too focused on the way Ilya is brushing and scratching at him just right.

He shuts his eyes and allows himself to feel everything fully. Oh, fuck. There was something about the way Ilya touched him when he was in kitty mode. Possessive and careful, like he was taking care of his prized possession. Shane lets out a rumble of a purr.

“There’s my good boy. So relaxed for me. You are so, so well-behaved,” Ilya says in that low voice that Shane fucking loves.

His tummy is warm at the praise. He wiggles his tail in anticipation, feeling excitement start to brew in his belly at the promise of playtime soon.

“Oh, now you are feeling like a pup, aren’t you?”

And when Shane snaps his eyes open, he spots Ivan watching him half-lidded, his eyes dark and zeroed in as Cedric gives him some intentional tummy rubs.

“Is that your best friend over there?” Cedric is saying. “He’s usually such a good kitty. We could stand to learn a lot from our friends.”

Shane meows and presses his face low to the ground as he watches the other pairing, wiggling his tail high in the air at the idea of having someone to release his energy onto. And before Ilya can stop him, Shane takes off running on his hands and knees to tackle Ivan right out of Cedric’s lap.

Ivan is laughing and barking in a way that only half sounds like a puppy, but it’s making Shane grin regardless, because this is so fun. He’s playing with someone who’s just like him!

He’s grateful when Ilya doesn’t immediately come rushing over to pull him off. He needs time to sniff this other animal to completion, needs to determine what type of puppy he’s dealing with here. But luckily, Ivan smells familiar. He smells a little bit like Cedric’s cologne, and Shane jolts a bit when Ivan’s collar jingles loudly, but that was good too. This was a puppy who had a definite owner. Ilya would not want him playing with strays.

Shane wrinkles his nose when Ivan surges up to lick him, and before Shane knows it, Ivan has flipped him and pinned his wrists to the ground. Shane’s cat eyes go wide, but he relaxes once he realizes Ivan is just sniffing him in return. Oh. That was alright then. Surely, Shane owed him that same courtesy. He hopes Ivan can smell Ilya on him, but he growls a little when Ivan gets too close to his collar. Ivan whimpers in apology.

Shane sniffles and looks Ivan over, pausing when he notices the metal chain hanging in his face. That was odd, right? Even for a puppy. Why would Ivan have a string attached to him?

Shane wiggles one of his paws free to hook his claws through it, freezing when Ivan’s head falls forward in a moan. Wow. Ivan must like that a lot. Shane doesn’t even know what this string does. He tugs on it again out of curiosity, and when Ivan pulls back slightly, causing it to escape from his grip, Shane surges up to swat at it.

“Oh fuck,” Ivan breathes out, dropping his head to Shane’s chest.

Shane wants to feel the metal between his teeth, so he bites at the string to give it another yank, but Cedric is pulling Ivan off of him before he can get a proper grip on it. Shane whines and wriggles around on his back at the loss. He turns his head to make pleading kitty eyes at Ilya, his paws pulled to his chest to show off his custom kitten gloves.

“You’re okay, baby,” Ilya smiles, crawling over to him to give Shane’s tummy a rub. “If you wanna play with toys, we can play with toys. That string is tugging on Ivan’s piercings, hm? So, we want to be careful and make sure we don’t hurt him.”

Shane’s eyes go wide as he glances back to Ivan, heartbroken at the thought that he’s somehow hurt his puppy friend, but before he can get too distraught, Ilya is offering him a blueberry. Shane mewls excitedly and sits up to lick the blueberry from Ilya’s palm, purring at the sweet taste of fruit on his tongue.

“Mm, good boy,” Ilya praises, giving him a scratch behind his ears, and Shane can’t help twisting himself happily in a circle. It makes his tail jerk inside of him, causing Shane to moan and swish it some more.

“The pets are getting excited,” Cedric notes, holding one of the dog cookies high in the air and feeding it to Ivan once he jumps tall enough to reach.

“C’mere, baby. Do you want out of your hoodie? It is a little hot in here,” Ilya offers, gesturing Shane closer to him again so he can help him out of his jacket.

Shane just sighs like a proper kitty once he’s free of the fabric, loving the way Ilya’s hands feel on his bare skin. His owner knows everything. His owner is god. Shane wants to worship him until he remembers only one word: Ilya.

“Maybe we will play some fun games now, yes?” Ilya suggests, looking to Cedric for confirmation, but Shane is just sizing Ilya up, trying to determine how to give his owner the best bath of all time.

That all changes, however, when Ilya produces a squeaker toy out of seemingly nowhere, and Shane catapults ten feet into the air, running around wildly as he tries to figure out where the noise has come from.

“Woah, kitty,” Cedric laughs, keeping a hold on Ivan’s collar when the puppy woofs excitedly. “That’s more like it. How about this? Whoever catches the toy first and brings it back to either me or Ilya will get a treat.”

Fuck yeah, Shane was going to ace this. He was so fucking fast. He could totally take Ivan down. Shane smirks and crouches low, wiggling his tail as his butt rises to the ceiling while he gets ready for takeoff.

As soon as the toy leaves Ilya’s hand, Shane is off to the races, scrambling over to the toy to catch it between his teeth before rushing back over to Ilya in about ten seconds flat. He lets his tongue loll out of his mouth as he proudly deposits the toy in front of his owner before waiting patiently for his reward.

“Aw, pup, it’s okay,” Cedric coos when Ivan whines in defeat, but Ilya is watching Shane with nothing but pleased admiration as he offers Shane a freeze-dried strawberry.

Shane licks all over Ilya’s hand in appreciation, head-butting into him after for a round of pets that have him buzzing out of his skin. Not only is he being such a good kitty for his owner, but he’s also outperforming other pets. Ilya wasn’t wrong about him being a prize-winning kitty. He wonders if there’s a form of Stanley Cup for kittens.

Shane swishes his tail boastfully as he stalks back over to where Ivan is, and Ivan growls lightly in admonishment, but Shane doesn’t care. He’s a well-practiced kitty. No stupid dog is going to come in here and take his crown.

Shane wins the next few rounds, much to Ivan’s dismay, and when he goes to collect his treat for the fourth time, Ilya whispers in his ear that it’s time to let his friend win one. Shane pouts because, since when did it make sense for him to let someone else win? But the last thing he wants to do is make Ivan upset, so when Cedric throws the squeaker toy this time, Shane purposely gets distracted by his tail, spinning in a circle to chase it as he allows Ivan to flourish to victory. It’s worth it for the private smile that Ilya offers him in return.

They play fetch for a little while longer, until the owners can tell that Ivan and Shane are starting to tire out. Shane crawls his way over to where Ivan is panting and resting in the grass, and stretches his long limbs out as he collapses next to his friend. He purrs when Ivan turns to slobber on his cheek, the bell from his collar jingling as he does so.

Shane giggles and shuts his eyes, vaguely aware of Cedric and Ilya talking amongst themselves, but Ivan is giving him a thorough cleaning right now, so it’s hard to focus on anything else. Shane hums, tipping his head this way and that way as Ivan licks across the span of his neck. He shivers when Ivan’s tongue dips lower. Over his collarbones. His chest. His nipples.

Oh.

Shane’s eyebrows press together at the spark that sends all throughout his body. His dick twitches in his pants. And then Ivan is nibbling…just lightly…and Shane’s eyes snap open to find Ivan inches from his face, that string dangling in his peripheral vision once more. He can’t help reaching out to paw at it.

At the pull to his nipple chain, Ivan collapses face-first into Shane’s chest and ruts down against him, and Shane moans at the feeling of a warm, heavy weight on top of him. Ivan is sniffing religiously against his neck, making puppy-like snuffles, and Shane is fucking confused. He doesn’t know what any of these feelings are, but it’s making his tail press into him with a vigor. He wiggles his hips to chase after it.

-

“I’m thinking we get them warmed up to clicker training with some simple commands. Sit, shake, roll over, and then once they get the hang of it, we can introduce the next part,” Ilya is telling Cedric, but his words die in his throat as soon as he spots Ivan and Shane slowly grinding against each other.

Shane is letting out these little noises—a mix between a whine and a moan that’s sending jolts of electricity straight to his cock. It shouldn’t be so fucking hot to see Shane with someone else, and really—mostly—it isn’t, but there’s something about engaging with another pet that seems to send Shane to places that Ilya could never get him on his own. Still, if anyone is going to make Shane feel good, Ilya is going to make damn sure he’s involved.

“Is Ivan making you feel nice, baby?” Ilya asks, abandoning Cedric in favor of posting up near Shane. He lowers himself to sit right near Shane’s head, raking his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Desperate little pet, aren’t you? You need to hump other animals to get off? You’re just a silly kitten, right, sweetheart? My silly, little angel,” Ilya coos, and Shane’s breathing picks up.

He tips his head back to look at Ilya, and Ilya is delighted to see how blown his gorgeous brown eyes are. Glassy at the edges, mouth hanging open as he pants heavily. Ilya can’t resist sinking two fingers past his puffy, red lips.

Shane closes his eyes as he sucks on them, and Ivan is rutting faster against him, whining like a fucking mutt, but all Ilya can focus on is Shane. Shane, who’s swirling his tongue around his owner’s fingers, trying to pull them deeper into his mouth, like pleasing Ilya is more important than whatever Ivan is currently doing to him.

“You are mine. Never forget that,” Ilya tells him lowly. “The only reason you have any of this is because I gave it to you. The only reason you feel pleasure is because I allow it.” He tugs on Shane’s hair sharply until Shane’s eyes blink back open. “You are my fucking pet to do what I please with. And you will do what I say because I am your owner and you live to serve me, right?”

Shane nods jerkily, practically choking himself on Ilya’s fingers as Ivan tries to find a new angle to get himself off against Shane. But Ilya has had enough of watching the pets play stupid games. Now, it was time for them to impress their owners.

“Off, puppy,” Ilya shoos Ivan away, gesturing for Cedric to get his mutt. “I want my kitty to show me how good he can be. Come on, boy. Up for me,” Ilya commands, standing to his full height as Shane scrambles to comply. “Why don’t you remind our friends who you belong to?”

He doesn’t give much other instruction than that, curious to see what Shane will come up with on his own, and he’s delightedly surprised when Shane rises onto his knees, places both of his paws on either of Ilya’s thighs, and presses his sloppy face right against the fabric covering Ilya’s groin.

“Oh, good boy,” Ilya groans, pulling Shane close to him by the back of his hair. “You fucking love my scent, don’t you? Love rubbing your messy lips and your teary eyes all over your owner.” He indulges himself by grinding forward against Shane’s face, and he receives a series of desperate meows from Shane in return. “Open your mouth, baby. Put that slobber to good use.”

Ilya bites his lower lip when Shane starts lapping all over the fabric of his jeans, letting out soft little mewling sounds as he gets into the rhythm of it. And for a second, Ilya almost forgets they have company. He’s so completely engrossed in what Shane is doing to him that when he opens his eyes, he’s startled to find Cedric and Ivan staring back at them with dazed expressions.

Ilya smirks at the realization, pulling Shane off of him with a yank of his hair before diving down to press his tongue into Shane’s waiting, drooling mouth. Kissing a cat could be tricky, Ilya knew better than anyone, but nothing compared to the way Shane completely lost all sense of control when he was this far down. It was like his brain ceased to function in any sort of human capacity.

Shane’s mouth is lax against Ilya’s, his tongue is wiggling back and forth like he doesn’t know what to do with it, but he wants to lick. He wants to express love and joy in some way, even if he can’t wrap his head around how or what it truly means. Ilya doesn’t care. He thinks it’s the hottest thing in the fucking world. He kisses Shane like a human just to feel how much Shane isn’t one. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Pet play could be so fucking hot. Ilya can’t believe he went so long without this. His dick is going to burst out of his fucking pants.

When Ilya pulls away, he’s still holding Shane up by his hair, which is probably a good thing because Shane looks like he can barely hold his head up on his own. He still looks like he’s off in some other reality, so Ilya bites his neck once for good measure, just enough for Shane to yelp and refocus on the situation at hand.

“That’s right. Listen to your Alpha. We’re going to do some tricks now, and I want you to show our friends what a good, good boy you are for me. You are a kitten much more often than Ivan is a puppy, so my expectations for you are much, much higher. Understood?” He smiles when Shane places his paw on the edge of Ilya’s shoe. “Good, now go line up next to Ivan.”

Shane’s tongue is hanging out as he scrambles to complete the request, and Ilya feels that recognition of Dom space washing over him once again. God, he could barely even focus on Cedric and Ivan when Shane was acting so perfect and desperate to comply. Pet play was so ingrained into their everyday dynamic that Ilya forgot how fun it could be to plan pet-specific scenes. His Shane could get so immersed. Ilya only has eyes for him right now. He shakes the bag of dried fruit for motivation. Shane twirls in a circle to show off his tail.

“Jesus,” Cedric mutters to him as he steps over to join Ilya with his own bag of treats. “You’ve gotta teach me how to get Ivan like that.”

Ilya smirks and shakes his head. There was no secret, no special way, no tips that Ilya could offer him. His Shane was just that much of a kitten. He’d been that way practically from Ilya’s first scene with him. Maybe Ilya inspired it out of him in some way, sure, but as far as Ilya was concerned, Shane had котёнок written in his DNA.

“Alright, pets, listen up.” Ilya makes a clicking sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “We are going to be doing some clicker training, yes?” He holds the clicker tool up to show them. “When you hear this, it means you have done a good job. When you hear this enough times, it means you are going to get a treat at some point. So, you want to hear this as much as possible,” he emphasizes. “Me and my kitty are going to demonstrate.”

Shane wiggles in place excitedly as Ilya steps over to him.

“Okay, baby. Give me your paw, please.”

-

Shane complies by immediately placing his paw in Ilya’s hand, and he’s so grateful for his new gloves at a time like this. The weight of the paw pad and toes, and the way they’re pressing against his hand, is sending him so far down right now. He keeps his fingers politely curled up so it looks as real as possible. And when Shane receives that click click, it sparks a jolt of electricity through him. He swishes his tail just to feel the plug shift inside of him.

“Good boy,” Ilya praises, and Shane closes his eyes at how good it feels. But then, Ilya is giving him his next direction. “Now, lie down for me.” He makes a hand motion that Shane tries to commit to memory just in case Ilya ever wants to use it again.

Shane drops to his stomach, curling his elbows and knees up under himself like a little cat loaf.

Click click.

“Good boy,” Ilya says once again, and Shane feels like his cock is starting to leak from how turned on he is. “Now, roll over.”

Shane mewls and keeps his obedient eyes on Ilya as he rolls over onto his back, his paws pulled to his chest while he tries to look as cute as possible for his owner.

Another click click.

“Good boy,” Ilya reiterates. “And then, eventually, when you have done well enough, you will get a real treat.” Ilya demonstrates by offering Shane something new this time.

Shane eagerly leans forward to lick up the treat, and his taste buds go crazy when a burst of chocolate-covered raspberry explodes on his tongue. Wow, wow, wow. It tastes so fucking good. The last time he had tasted chocolate, Ilya was eating honey out of his ass, and Shane was calling him Daddy.

Fuck. Shane had left for his cottage the very next day. His heart burns at the memory.

“Very good, baby,” Ilya smiles down at him. “Treat is very yummy, yes?”

Shane sniffles and pushes himself up to wrap around Ilya’s leg, almost like an apology for all the times that he didn’t reciprocate Ilya’s feelings—couldn’t reciprocate them, even, because he hadn’t known how to, or maybe he was just too afraid. He’s not afraid now, though. In fact, he’s never been more sure.

“Aw, you’re okay, my tiny monster,” Ilya hums fondly, giving Shane’s ears a little scritch. “It is very nice to be told you’re good, I know. You are so sweet when you are like this.”

Ilya doesn’t know, Shane thinks. Not really. But Shane was going to keep being the best boy in the world for him. He was going to make his owner so proud for the rest of their lives.

Ivan and Cedric do a round of training next, and Shane stays wrapped around Ilya’s leg, dipping forward occasionally to lick across the fabric of his jeans. Every time he does so, Ilya looks down at him with a blinding grin and gives Shane another appreciative pet, so Shane makes an effort to do it as often as possible.

By the time everyone has demonstrated that they understand clicker training, Ilya and Cedric get to setting up the armchairs on their respective sides of the room.

Shane tips his head when Ilya pulls away from him in order to do so, and across from him, he can see Ivan doing the same. Ivan’s tongue is out of his mouth, so Shane mimics him, and then, before he knows it, Ivan is tackling him to the ground.

Shane falls back with a definite oof, feeling his head thud against the ground while Ivan digs his paws into the fake grass on either side of Shane.

“Hey,” Ilya barks out, snapping his fingers loudly at Ivan. “Puppy, you are playing too rough. Cedric,” Ilya calls, rushing over to Shane to gently lift his head. “Принцесса Китти? Are you okay, baby?”

Shane pouts and takes advantage of the situation, milking it in the hopes of getting some extra special pets from his owner. God, his tail is digging into him just right. Shane moans and rubs his cheek against Ilya’s clothed thigh.

Cedric is pulling a petulant Ivan off of Shane’s lap, so Shane wastes no time in crawling onto Ilya’s instead.

“Hi, моя любовь,” Ilya greets him graciously, hugging Shane close to his chest. “Oh, you have been on your absolute best behavior for me this evening. I am going to give you lots of kisses and snuggles later, hm?”

All of that sounded fantastic, of course, but for right now, Shane has a little something else in mind.

Ilya laughs when Shane tries to grind his tail down against him, his cock feeling trapped even within the loose fabric of his pants. “Ah, yes, you are looking to get off. I know, baby. Desperate little kitten, like always. Desperate for your owner. But we have not finished your training yet.”

Shane tips his head as Ilya points to the armchair, which is now facing one corner of the room.

“I am going to sit in that chair, and you are going to suck me off,” Ilya tells him nice and slow, like he isn’t sure Shane’s brain can keep up with him right now.

Shane wonders why that is as he dives forward to lick across Ilya’s lips.

“Uh, uh. Listen to me, angel.” Ilya holds his hand up to keep Shane’s attention. “I am going to need you to be very good for me if you want your clicks.”

Shane sits up in attentiveness.

“You will use your mouth on me, and every time I like what I am feeling, I will give you a click. This means good boy,” Ilya reminds him, petting heavily down Shane’s side, and Shane sinks into the touch. “It also means that when we are finished, if you have been good enough, you will get a special treat.”

A special treat??? Shane swishes his tail wildly as he lets out an excited meow.

“Yes, I know, I know. It is very exciting, but only if you do a good job, hm?” Ilya prompts, and Shane puts his paws on Ilya’s shoulders to rub his head lovingly across Ilya’s, nuzzling into him repeatedly until Ilya starts meeting him halfway with a round of kisses. “I love you so much. We are almost done, baby. Then, you are all mine.”

Shane likes the sound of that, so he doesn’t argue when Ilya instructs him to get down on the floor. He watches with curious cat eyes when Ilya grabs a pillow, but a purr roars through him once he realizes Ilya is just placing it on the floor in front of the armchair to protect Shane’s knees. And the second Ilya has sat down, Shane is face-first in the fabric of his jeans, scenting every inch of the one thing standing between him and his favorite meal in the world.

There was nothing that compared to the feeling of Ilya’s cock down his throat. Shane fucking dreamt about it some nights. His musk was so strong when Shane’s nose was buried in his pubes, even if he couldn’t stay there for too long without the risk of choking. Because Ilya was big enough to feel all-consuming, to take Shane’s focus away from everything except serving his owner. Ilya always took such good care of him. The very least Shane could do was make him feel good in return.

“You love the smell of me, don’t you?” Ilya sighs in a way that sounds relaxed, his fingers casually sinking through Shane’s hair, nudging at the edges of his ears.

Ilya’s hands were so big, too. His fingers. His fingers in Shane’s ass, fuck. They could reach so much further than Shane could on his own. He laves his tongue over Ilya’s zipper, nudging his nose up under Ilya’s tank top to try and find his treasure trail. Luckily, Ilya seems to get the message and strips out of his shirt almost immediately, already going for his trousers as well. Shane distracts him by sucking two of Ilya’s fingers into his mouth.

Click click. “Fuck, good job, baby,” Ilya says, and Shane moans around his digits.

He was being good by sucking Ilya’s fingers? Fuck. Shane could do that. Shane could do that so easily. He sinks down further, trying to give Ilya a preview of what awaits him once he gets his stupid pants off.

When Shane is finally presented with Ilya’s bare cock, he falls into it face-first, rubbing his cheeks and nose and lips all over it. This is where he fucking belongs. Not on the ice. Not in the media. Not even at his stupid, lonely cottage. He belongs right here at Ilya’s feet, and if he had his way, he’d never ever leave.

He risks a glance up at his owner and gets a satisfied thrum inside his tummy when he spots Ilya watching him with lust-blown eyes and the most dazed expression on his face. He tugs Shane a little closer by the back of his hair, grinding his cock and balls against Shane’s face, and Shane just takes it like a good little pet.

His tongue darts out when Ilya’s treasure trail catches his eye again, Shane taking the opportunity to lap over it hungrily. He finds every part of Ilya so insanely attractive that the thought of him could quite literally consume Shane sometimes.

“You are so fucking hot, котёнок. God. The things you do to me. You are unlike anything else in this world.”

Shane preens and licks at him a little more incessantly, and eventually, he gets distracted by his mission of wanting to lick Ilya clean all over. A kitty bath for his owner. Shane gets all the way up to his chest and starts to go for his arms before Ilya stops him.

“You are getting off track, gorgeous. I love that you are trying to make sure I am all clean, and any other time, I would love to spend all evening letting you do that, but right now, I need you to get me off and prove that you can earn lots of clicks. Because I am starting to hear quite a lot for Ivan,” Ilya points out, nodding to the other side of the room.

And for the first time in a while, Shane remembers that they’re not the only ones in here. And Ilya is right, Ivan is getting a lot of clicks right now. Did Ilya not think he was good? Did Ilya think Ivan was better than him?

Shane flashes a panicked expression at his owner, but Ilya is shaking his head and cupping his jaw before he can spiral too far.

“It is not a competition, my baby flower,” he smiles, gliding his thumb over Shane’s lower lip before pressing it inside.

Shane’s lips wrap around it on autopilot.

“But I am very turned on right now, and it would please me very much if you would get me off. Please, kitty.”

Shane feels feral at that, and it causes him to spring into action, instantly zeroing in on Ilya’s cock as he licks along the length of it. The taste was decadent as always. Shane thought Ilya tasted like heaven. He thought everything Ilya did was lined with pure gold, diamond-encrusted, made from fucking pixie dust. He’d taken Shane’s broken shell of a life and had turned it into something so full of love and meaning. He’d given hockey back to him. He’d given him an identity in a broken world that he never saw himself fitting into.

He tries to channel all of that emotion, all of that feeling into the way he’s sucking Ilya’s cock. He’s never sucked Ilya with kitten paw gloves on, but Ilya never said anything about not using them, so he gives that a try. Ilya must not be expecting it because he jerks backward and moans uncontrollably.

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya grits out.

Shane almost doesn’t even mind Ilya calling him that right now. He just wants to be good. He just wants to fulfil all of Ilya’s fantasies, give him everything he desires. Shane digs his claws into Ilya’s upper thigh as he kitten licks the tip of Ilya’s cock, and something jolts inside of him when he gets another click click. Shane stutters out a moan.

What the fuck was that? Was Shane losing his mind? Had the click nestled that far in his brain already that he was feeling actual physical pleasure from it?

Shane bobs his head again, saliva pooling around the corners of his mouth as he tries to gag himself on Ilya’s dick, cupping Ilya’s balls with one of his kitty paws.

Click click. Shane’s entire body twitches violently as he keens high in the back of his throat. Oh god. Why did the clicks feel so good? Like they were directly stimulating his prostate. But only for a second. Only during the clicks.

Shane needed to fucking focus because Cedric was clicking for Ivan non-fucking-stop; meanwhile, Shane hasn’t gotten one for at least a full minute now. Was Ilya not enjoying his blowjob? Was Shane not making him feel good? He doubles down on his efforts and attempts to speed up his motions, swirling his tongue deliberately over Ilya’s slit whenever he’s forced to come up for air. But still…no clicks.

Shane whimpers pathetically and tries not to start crying. But all he can hear from the other side of the room is click click, click click, click click, faster and faster until it seems like Cedric must have to be close to the edge at this point. There was no way he was giving that many clicks if he wasn’t about to come.

But why wasn’t Ilya giving him clicks? Why didn’t Ilya feel satisfied with what Shane was doing to him?

Shane pulls off of his cock with a sniffle, batting his big eyelashes up at Ilya as his eyes fill with unshed tears.

Ilya raises his eyebrows at Shane’s defeated state. “You are giving up already, kitten? What happened to wanting to make your owner happy?”

But Shane had tried every trick in the book. He’d pulled out all the stops. None of the usual things Ilya liked were working. Shane cries a little harder, feeling so fucking confused and unsure of what Ilya wants right now. That probably made him a bad kitty, right? Not knowing what his owner wanted. Even Ivan seemed to know, and he was barely a real puppy.

When Shane risks a glance at Ilya again, he’s watching him with a newfound fervor, a renewed sense of fire in his eyes as he takes in Shane’s expression.

Shane sniffles and pouts as he tries to understand, but then, it finally hits him. Ilya was turned on by him crying. Ilya wanted to see him be a whimpering, sobbing mess while Shane got him off.

He goes back in for another taste, and this time, he makes a big show of looking up at Ilya, of flashing his big, brown doe eyes that are still dripping with emotion. He lets himself feel it all as he cries, the tears mixing with the saliva that’s coating his fiancé’s big, gorgeous cock. Shane cries some more when he thinks about the fact that he’ll get to have this forever.

The clicks start coming after that, each emphasized with a tiny buzz of vibration that Shane eventually figures out is coming from the plug buried inside of him. He whines and moans and sobs until his body can’t take it anymore, until he’s so fucking stupid and drunk on pleasure that he finds himself humping Ilya’s leg while he continues to suck him to completion.

He barely even notices when Ilya pulls out to come all over his face because the vibrator isn’t stopping anymore. It’s on full force, pressed right up against Shane’s prostate if he can nudge the angle of his tail just right.

“Ah,” he cries out, eyes closed as he gets the most delicious friction of his cock against Ilya’s leg, his tail swishing and moving inside of him with the motion.

He comes just like that, his mouth wide open in a gasp while his body jolts against Ilya’s. He’s rubbing his cum-covered face all over Ilya’s cock, clinging to him anywhere he can reach as the aftershocks shoot through him, causing him to twitch and succumb to a new onslaught of tears.

“Good boy. Good boy. You are so fucking good for me,” Shane hears from somewhere in the distance.

He tries to bury his face further into Ilya’s groin, finding comfort and warmth between his legs as Ilya shushes him and strokes his hair. Eventually, he feels Ilya’s hand over his back, petting him. The vibrator dies down, and all Shane can focus on is Ilya all around him. Ilya’s voice reverberating through the air, even though Shane doesn’t know what he’s saying. He knows it’s probably something good. Shane purrs and presses even closer.

-

By the time Ilya gets Shane back to his playroom, he’s exhausted. It’s been a long day of hockey, bottom prep, BDSM, and pet play. All of Ilya’s favorite things, really, but it sure made for a tiring mix.

Shane is okay for the most part. He really didn’t enjoy having to slip past their friends while he was in such a vulnerable state, but Ivan and Cedric had been very courteous to avert their eyes while Ilya cleaned Shane up and ushered him out of there. Shane had been a good little kitten by hiding in Ilya’s hoodie as Ilya piggybacked him across the club to their destination.

They’re in bed now, all washed up from their messy finishes with their kitten props put away. Shane is just staring at him, slow-blinking while Ilya tells him everything his feline mind wants to hear right now.

“You’re so good, baby.”

Shane’s eyes slip into another slow blink.

“My absolute best kitty. I’m so proud of you,” Ilya tells him, using his best cooing, gushing baby voice because it seems to pull a plethora of sated smiles out of his sleepy boy.

Shane arches into the touch when Ilya pets over his side, nuzzling closer until his freckles are so close to Ilya’s face.

Ilya can’t help ducking to kiss as many as he can. In fact, he takes his sweet time peppering kisses all over Shane’s face, not wanting a single spot on him to go unloved. He feels Shane’s claws kneading into his shirt, and he can’t help but smile, pulling away to get another look at him. He’s stunningly beautiful, the same way he was when Ilya first found him, only this Shane belongs entirely to him. Ilya knows no one else is ever going to get to kiss those perfect lips. He traces his fingers over them. He knows no one else will ever get to touch Shane the way he does. No one could get him like this even if they tried. No, Shane was made entirely just for him.

He believes it even more when Shane dips forward to bite at his neck, where Ilya’s pulse is throbbing the hardest, like he wants to suck Ilya’s beating heart right through his veins and keep it warm in his tummy. Carry it around with him just in case he ever forgets how it beats for him and him only.

Ilya would never stop reminding him. He cards his fingers through the side of Shane’s hair as he cups his jaw and pulls him into a heavy kiss.

Shane sighs happily against him, so Ilya pulls him even closer, one hand scratching through the back of his hair while the other cups Shane’s ass. He sucks on Shane’s tongue until Shane’s hands are shaking, until he’s squirming against the bed like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Only then does Ilya pull away with a gasp, holding Shane’s chin firmly in his hand to ensure he’s paying attention.

“I wouldn’t be anything without you. Do you understand? You are everything to me, Shane. Absolutely everything. I love you more than words could ever explain.”

Shane just swallows and nods, pulling Ilya closer by the back of the neck. “Love you. Love you. Love you,” he says, licking fervently over Ilya’s face, until suddenly they’re kissing again.

Kissing and rutting against each other like fucking teenagers. Ilya uses way more tongue than necessary, but it doesn’t matter because Shane is meeting him every step of the way.

Eventually, they start to tire out for real this time. Ilya doesn’t need to come again, so he decides that Shane doesn’t need to either. It was better to leave his kitten horny and wanting more, anyway. So, Ilya turns off the jellyfish string lights and gives Shane his seahorse to cuddle close to his chest. He pulls Shane close until all of Shane’s limbs are wrapped around him like a pretty kitty octopus. He lets Shane bury his face in his neck while Ilya scratches at the back of his hair, big biceps squeezing him tightly.

They’ve got an Away week coming up, their first since the disaster in Florida, but Ilya feels confident that this trip will be better. He’s looking forward to their game in Boston, in flashing his newfound love in front of some of his ex-teammates, even if they won’t entirely understand. He’s excited to see Marlow, either way, sure that his good buddy will be able to notice something different in him, at least. A renewed sense of purpose.

He feels hopeful, excited, eager for each and every day he gets to spend with Shane, no matter how ordinary. He dozes off to the soothing sound of Shane purring against his chest, the pendant of his collar wrapped up safe in Ilya’s willing and capable hands.

-

Chapter End Notes

Happy Birthday, Ilya Rozanov!! I hope you had the best day with kitten Shane!!! <3

It is summer, so I do have a bit more going on in my life than I did during the last book (i.e., upcoming trips, etc), so please be patient with me when it comes to updates :) I am doing my very best, but I have no plans of abandoning this series, don't worry.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, please!! I hope you enjoyed the long-awaited playdate! Next chapter, we'll be seeing our good friend Cliff Marlow. Also coming up: extremely jealous Shane!

I will try to update you all on my progress with the next chapter here in the notes, so please check back here to see where I'm at with the next update. This chapter ended up being quite long again, but I am hoping to get back to slightly shorter chapters in the future since these 25-30k ones have been a massive pain to edit. Thanks for the support, as always, and I look forward to seeing you all for the next one!!!

June 25th author's note: update coming in a day or two!

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

tw: this chapter features shane having some pretty anxious thoughts, jealousy/insecurity, as well as sex while under the influence of weed. brief mentions of knifeplay, safewords ignored, bad dom etiquette (not related to shane or ilya)

Shane is in rare form today. He’s been overly affectionate since their playdate with Ivan last night, which is not to say that Shane wasn’t usually affectionate, but today, he’s even more so.

He’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself in the airport. Ilya almost wants to write it off as pre-flight nerves, but Shane didn’t seem nervous, no; mostly, he seemed happy. A little dazed even, though not in a cat way. Just…sated, like last night had satisfied a big scratch he’d been trying to itch for a while now. Ilya is pleased that he’s in such a good mood.

“No,” Ilya laughs, yanking his hand away when Shane tries to reach for it for a third time. “Shane,” he warns, crossing his arms over his chest this time to block off all hand-holding entry points. “We are in public. I already told you, you need to watch yourself.”

Shane gives Ilya his most devastating grumpy kitty pout. “No one’s even looking.”

“What is up with you today?” Ilya smiles, stepping closer to Shane before he can stop himself. “You are so grabby.”

Shane takes advantage of the new position, gripping onto the fabric of Ilya’s sweatshirt. “I just wanna get on the plane already so we can cuddle.”

Ilya’s eyes soften as he looks down at the love of his life, drowning in one of his hoodies. “Do you want to do some Russian lessons or should we watch a movie?”

“Movie, please,” Shane begs, and Ilya has to dodge him again when Shane tries to cozy up into his chest.

“Моя любовь.” Ilya shakes his head. He turns over his shoulder and then makes a quick dash to stand behind Harris once he spots the other lingering near the terminal. He can see Shane’s upset, frowning face from over Harris’ head.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Harris asks tentatively, glancing at Shane before looking back to Ilya.

“You are my shield,” Ilya tells him seriously. “I am under attack by this kitten.”

Shane huffs in irritation. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to be near my own husband now.”

“Fiancé, dear. If we’d gotten married, I would have remembered it. And you should really try to keep your voice down,” Ilya suggests.

“Why?” Shane demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “Is there a reason you don’t want people to know? Still holding out for some slut when we get to Boston?”

Ilya’s jaw drops, affronted. “Shane,” he replies, eyebrows pinched together in a mix of hurt and confusion, but Shane has stalked off before Ilya can question him any further.

He doesn’t find him again until they board, and there’s a second where Ilya almost thinks Shane’s not going to sit with him, but luckily, Shane slides into the window seat without any argument. Ilya doesn’t hesitate before pushing right up into his space.

“Hey,” Ilya broaches quietly, slipping his hand across the inner part of Shane’s closest knee. “You are acting strange. You don’t actually think I am looking to score with someone in Boston, do you?”

“You’ve been buried in your phone all morning. If it’s not an old flame, then I don’t know who the fuck has you so giddy,” Shane states plainly.

Ilya can’t control the snort he lets out, Shane turning sharply to glare at him before Ilya can school his features into something less amused. “Shane, I was texting with Marly.”

He watches fondly as Shane’s face slowly falls at the realization. “Oh. Like…like Marlow?”

“Yes, like Marlow.” Ilya gives Shane’s leg a healthy shake, unable to help his cuteness aggression for the decadent creature in front of him. “There is no one I want to see except my old teammate, hm? You have nothing to be jealous of. Unless you are jealous of Marly…”

Shane shoves at his shoulder in what Ilya assumes is meant to be irritation, but instead, Shane’s hand pauses on his bicep, his fingers pressing into the hard muscle in curiosity.

Ilya tries to flex as subtly as he can.

“How the fuck are your arms getting so big so fast?” Shane wonders aloud, and Ilya can see the way his throat bobs when he swallows.

“Yeah!” Bood wedges his face through the crack of the seats in front of them. “I was going to ask you that, Rozy. Are you on some new type of supplements or something? Because you look fucking huge lately.”

Ilya raises an eyebrow at Bood. “You were listening in on our conversation, were you?”

Hazy reveals himself next, offering a toothy grin. “We heard about the potential girl in Boston. Had to make sure no one was planning on hurting our Shane.”

“Your Shane?” Ilya laughs in disbelief, pulling Shane’s thigh a little closer to himself. “The only reason he came to this fucking team is because of me, and even if that weren’t the case, he has been mine for the better part of ten years. But most importantly, you should all know by now that I would never, ever hurt him.” Ilya punctuates that thought by tugging Shane half into his lap to kiss him fiercely on the mouth.

Shane stumbles forward, but it isn’t long before he’s sinking into Ilya’s grasp, still clutching onto Ilya’s bicep and going lax in his arms.

“Okay, lovers, I still wanted to know Rozy’s gym routine,” Bood sing-songs to get their attention. “The entire team has been wondering, actually. Please tell me it’s not steroids.”

Ilya rolls his eyes when he pulls away from Shane, pleased to find his kitten all starry-eyed and still hovering close like he wants another.

“I am not on steroids, you idiot. Don’t go spreading that rumor around. The last thing I need is more attention from the media right now, especially going into this game against my old team.”

As far as Ilya was concerned, more media coverage meant more eyes on him and Shane, and lately, they were getting enough of that as is. In the past few days, pictures of Ilya’s tattoo had surfaced, and some publications were already making the connection between Shane’s necklace and the symbol’s overall connection to their charity. No one had made the jump that he and Shane were engaged just yet, but Ilya was also highly aware of the wedding ring that was dangling across his chest like a massive clue hidden in plain sight. He could just see the headlines now if the focus were to somehow shift to his rapidly growing pectoral muscles.

“Then, what, Roz? If you have a secret method, you should share it with the rest of the team. We could all get totally buff,” Wyatt presses. “Maybe it’d be the edge we need to win the Stanley Cup.”

Ilya puffs a laugh. Oh, Ilya’s secret method was the edge they needed to win the Stanley Cup, alright. Mostly because Ilya’s secret method was actually just Shane Hollander. Shane Hollander and his need to be carried everywhere like a tiny baby kitten.

“There is no method. I just have been lifting heavy and a lot more often,” Ilya replies nonchalantly, even as his gaze falls upon Shane, his hand coming up to appreciatively thumb at the freckles on his fiancé’s cheek.

Shane’s watching him with those little smiley crinkly eyes, his cheeks pink, his lips raw from the way he bit them on the entire car ride over.

“Did he just say he got that big from lifting Shane?” Bood mutters to Wyatt, who makes an inquisitive sound.

“He did pick him up yesterday in the locker room like it was nothing. Maybe there’s something to it,” Wyatt mumbles back.

Ilya is too caught up in his lover to pay attention to either of them, but at the sound of Wyatt clearing his throat, Ilya re-centers his focus.

“So, maybe during practice later, we can all take turns lifting Shane?” Wyatt questions as he glances over at Bood, a look on his face that suggests he’s being entirely serious.

“Yeah, totally. If that’s Rozy’s secret, it’s worth a shot, right? Plus, I’m sure Shane won’t mind. If it’s for the Stanley Cup and all.”

Ilya can feel his face starting to turn very red, a fury building inside of him that almost has him worried he’s going to do something he’ll regret, when—

“I’m fucking messing with you, bro,” Wyatt breaks into laughter.

But Ilya can’t even hear him with the way that Shane has slipped even closer into his space, nuzzling up into him like he’d been wanting to do at the airport. Ilya realizes that, this time, they actually are about to take off, and maybe Shane is attempting to seek comfort, so Ilya blocks out all the surrounding noise. He rids his peripherals of Bood and Wyatt and, instead, focuses all his attention on his favorite person in front of him.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Ilya hums, cupping Shane’s jaw in one hand as the other continues to rest on Shane’s thigh. “I’m sorry I kept running from you in the airport.”

“It’s okay,” Shane assures gently, and his hands are so soft from where he’s gripping onto Ilya. They should be considering he ordered himself a $370 hand cream on Ilya’s credit card. “Sometimes I just don’t care about hiding anymore. Sometimes I just need you to touch me so badly.”

Ilya’s heart speeds up rapidly in his chest with the way Shane’s words wash over him. He knew Shane wasn’t ready to come out yet, that he maybe wouldn’t be ready to for a while, but the fact that Shane was also bursting out of his skin with the need to claim him publicly is a massive comfort to Ilya. It was good to know they were on the same page with how hard hiding was starting to become.

-

The beginning of their Away week goes off without a hitch. They get into Buffalo on Monday with no issues during the flight. Upon landing, they go to practice and head straight into a game the next day.

They win 3 – 1.

On Wednesday, they travel to Boston and then have most of the day to themselves. Shane and Ilya spend their time goofing off in the hotel pool before heading back to the room to shower and then meet the rest of the guys for dinner. The hotel isn’t super well-located, and no one really feels like traveling too far out of the way to get food, so they all decide to order room service instead. Luckily, Bood and Wyatt have been blessed with a suite that has a massive dining room table with enough room for everyone.

They’re in the middle of eating when the bomb hits.

“Woah, Rozy,” Holmberg calls out all of a sudden, his eyes locked to something on his phone screen, and Shane’s blood instantly goes cold, a terrible feeling working its way through his veins.

“What? What is it?” Ilya grunts around a mouthful of steak.

“Uh. Picture of you. From Halloween. Who’s the cat?” He turns the phone around, zooming in on the picture and—

Shane’s heart stops.

It’s a picture of Ilya with his arm wrapped around some girl. An Asian girl with dark hair. And freckles. And whiskers drawn on her face because she’s dressed like a fucking cat. She’s got the ears and the tutu and everything. She’s even got the big, perky, in-your-face tits.

And, in the picture, Ilya’s eyes are glazed over like he’s seven drinks deep. He’s touching her like he wants more, like he wants to take her back to bed and fuck her until she’s meowing and screaming his name. What’s worse is that the picture coming out now makes it seem like it was taken this Halloween, like Ilya had actually been with this girl—this cat—four days ago, instead of in his shared house with his team and his soon-to-be husband.

Shane feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Jesus Christ. That is from so long ago. Who the fuck posted that?” Ilya demands, reaching for the phone, but Shane doesn’t want to see it any closer.

He stands from his chair before he can stop himself, Ilya’s eyes darting to him as he does.

“Shane—”

But Shane doesn’t want to hear it right now. Right now, he just wants to run and hide and scream into his pillow. He’s down the hall and back in his own room in thirty seconds flat. Unfortunately, he knows he only has about twenty more seconds before Ilya comes storming in after him, so he takes his opportunity, and he screams. He screams into the pillow, he kicks his legs wildly as he pounds his fists against the bed, he takes fifteen seconds to feel every emotion coursing through him, and then he just goes still.

The door flies open two seconds later.

“Shane, please. I know you are upset,” Ilya says as soon as he enters, his hand gliding across Shane’s back once he gets near enough, and god.

Shane wants him close almost as much as he wants him far, far away.

“But it is in the past, моя любовь—”

“In the past,” Shane scoffs, shooting up from his spot on the bed to address Ilya directly. “In the past? This is not in the past, Ilya. This is four fucking days ago on Halloween.”

Ilya is looking at him in guarded confusion, his eyebrows slowly furrowing. “Shane…I was with you on Halloween four days ago.”

“They don’t know that,” Shane fires back, placing his hands on his hips. “Nobody fucking knows that except me and the rest of the team. For all they know, this was four days ago. Meaning the entire fucking world probably thinks you and this cat girl just hooked up.”

“Oh,” Ilya says dumbly, and Shane watches his throat bob as he swallows.

“Yeah, oh,” Shane mutters, shaking his head while pushing an anxious hand through his hair.

He still feels queasy, a million thoughts threatening to overtake him all at once. Because it wasn’t just the fact that it was a girl. And it wasn’t just the fact that she was dressed like a cat. It was the fact that she looked exactly like him. Like Shane just happened to embody Ilya’s preferences. Like he was just one of many who fit the bill. Like maybe he’d just been in the right place at the right time, and really, it could have been anyone who’d ended up with Ilya. If things were slightly different, maybe Ilya’d be engaged to that cat girl right now, and it’d be Shane whose picture was blasted all over the internet, Shane who was just a casual fling that Ilya was writing off as in the past.

By the time they play their game the next day, more pictures of Ilya from that night have leaked. Shane is so focused on the ice that he nearly forgets about it entirely, but Ilya’s former teammates seem determined not to let him live it down. So, for the entire game, every shift, Shane is distracted by the god-awful, relentless chirping in the form of meow, meow.

Every face-off: meow, meow. Every press against the boards: meow, meow. Every time he passes, or goes to score, or gets sent to the fucking penalty box, all he hears is meow meow, meow meow, meow meow. Shane feels like he’s losing his fucking mind.

It’s not a surprise when they lose 4 – 2. Boston was already a better team, and Shane was so far off his game today, it’s not even funny. He throws his gear to the ground the second he gets back to the locker room.

Ilya tries to comfort him, and Shane screams at him for the first time ever in front of the boys.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Ilya’s hand drops like ice.

Shane shuts his eyes tightly as he tries to get himself together, and, luckily, the room keeps moving around him. Ilya eventually goes off to shower, and Troy seems to recognize that Shane isn’t in the mood to chat. In fact, no one tries to talk to Shane at all until he and Ilya get back to their hotel room. Shane gets three minutes of silence before Ilya finally breaks.

“I was going to go out with Marly tonight, but I will cancel—”

“Don’t,” Shane says back. “Just…go. Whatever. I don’t care.”

He’s just so fucking tired from today. He can’t go online without seeing new pictures of Ilya and that girl. Ilya talking into her ear. Ilya using his flirty smile, his flirty eyes, the ones that Shane had stupidly assumed were just for him.

And it doesn’t help that Ilya looks almost exactly the same. He’s maybe a little bit less buff, but his hair is the same length. He obviously doesn’t have his tattoo, but his hand is nearly always hidden. Grabbing her ass, gripping her waist, touching her tits.

Shane closes his eyes, but the images still don’t fucking stop.

“Shane, I don’t want to—”

“Ilya, just—” Shane holds his hand up to keep him from saying anything else. “Please. I just want some fucking alone time, okay? It’s bad enough we lost the game.”

Ilya doesn’t speak for a minute, but Shane knows him well enough that he’s expecting it when Ilya takes one more stab at trying to talk him down.

“I am very sorry about the chirping. I know that must have been a lot,” Ilya says quietly, and Shane has to bite his lower lip to keep it from wobbling.  “I am sorry about this whole thing in general. Just tell me what to do to make it better—”

“Jesus, Ilya,” Shane scoffs, turning to face the other. “There isn’t anything to make better, don’t you get it? There’s nothing we can do except wait for this to fucking pass. And even still, who’s to say there won’t be other pictures tomorrow? Or the next day. Or the day after that. I mean, you can hardly keep track of how many people you’ve fucked. Can you at least tell me how many of them were cats?”

Ilya’s eyebrows raise high on his head.

Shane would almost feel bad if he wasn’t so fucking angry, but he’s had all of his sore spots poked at over the last day and a half, and he’s tired. All he wants to do is pass out. All he wants to do is cry until the pain turns to numbness, until he’s able to play his next hockey game and the noise of all this dies down.

“We can talk about this when I get back. Will you still be awake?” Ilya says with a sigh.

Shane doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know if he’ll be awake when Ilya gets back, isn’t sure how late Ilya is planning on staying out to party with Cliff Marlow, isn’t sure if he’ll be in the mood to talk if Ilya is loose and tipsy from the alcohol.

He’s grateful when Ilya excuses himself by heading into the bathroom to get ready, and when he comes back out, Shane closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep. His heart only bleeds a little when Ilya kisses his forehead before the hotel door snicks closed behind him.

-

Ilya feels like a steaming pile of dog shit. He’s convinced there’s nothing worse in this world than having Shane Hollander be mad at him, especially because it’s warranted. Ilya had fucked up. Well, he hadn’t fucked up recently, but he had certainly fucked up years ago by mindlessly and aimlessly having sex with half of North America. He should have known that his future husband would be put off by something like that. Who wouldn’t be? Ilya was a vile, vile creature for the sheer number of partners he’s gone through in the ten years since he first set his eyes on Shane.

And, who was there right at the beginning of Ilya’s decade of debauchery? Well, that was none other than Cliff Marlow, Ilya’s right-hand man from his time spent on the Boston Bears.

“Don’t tell me you’re that much of a sore loser, Roz.” Marlow teases, clueing into his bad mood the very second he walks up. “I know you guys have been on a winning streak lately, but you had to have known what you were walking into tonight.”

Ilya shakes his head, grinning slyly as he pulls Marly into a hug, clapping him excitedly on the back. “It is so fucking good to see you.”

Marlow squeezes him in return, giving him a little shake before they pull apart and settle into their respective spots at the bar table. “Our first time grabbing drinks after a game against each other. Crazy, right? Who would’ve thought? Marlow and Rozanov not on the same line.”

“Oh, quit crying about it. I need a fucking drink,” Ilya says over the volume of the music.

Once he’s got a crisp vodka in hand, Marlow turns to him again. “So, you gonna tell me what the hell you’re up to these days? First, you run off to Ottawa out of nowhere; then, you start a charity with Shane Hollander; next, you’re going to tell me you’re married with three kids and a baby on the way.”

Ilya takes a big gulp of his drink. Well, he wasn’t married yet, and he certainly didn’t have any kids, but Ilya was making a lot of massive life changes lately. One in particular, he always assumed Marlow would be a part of. But Ilya had other factors to consider now, ones that mattered much more than his nearly decade-long friendship with Cliff.

“Listen, dude. You’re not as subtle as you think,” Cliff voices, breaking through the apparently translucent wall that exists between them.

Ilya lifts his head to meet Marlow’s gaze, eyebrows pinched together. “What do you mean?”

Cliff nods to the ring on Ilya’s necklace. “It’s about those pictures, right? Wife not too happy with you, I’ll bet.”

“Fiancé,” Ilya corrects, and he’s thankful the pronunciation doesn’t give away the spelling. “The timing of the pictures is…admittedly, not great,” he relents, because it’s easier than saying Cliff’s hit the nail right on the head.

“I remember that Halloween,” Cliff laughs, taking a swig of his own beer. “You went as something so stupid. God, what was it?”

“Bouncer,” Ilya recalls with a twitch of his lips. “Tight black shirt and some sunglasses.”

“You’re a fucking beautician,” Marlow praises him, beaming from ear to ear. “But you’re a taken man now, huh?”

“Mm, maybe not for long if these pictures keep resurfacing,” Ilya sighs, running a hand through his curls as he tries to think up a solution. “Everyone thinks they are from this Halloween. My fiancé is very, very upset.”

Ilya is pretty sure he already knows what Cliff is going to say. Cliff is going to say, ‘Why not just post a real photo from this Halloween?’ Or maybe he’ll go with, ‘Say you’re engaged and this is an old picture.’ Or possibly even, ‘Ignore them. She’ll get over it.’

Instead, Cliff says, “I’ll take care of it.”

What? Ilya blinks at him once, twice, and then, “What do you mean?”

Cliff just waves him off and pulls out his phone. He’s taking his sweet ass time, typing in his password, struggling to find the app he’s looking for, doing something so painstakingly slow that, by the time Ilya gets the buzz of notification in his pocket, he can barely put together what’s just happened.

RT @Cliff_Marlow:

Love a good #ThrowbackThursday! @Ilya_Rozanov 2014 was wild times man. Good seeing you tonight. Can’t wait to beat you on home ice next time 😈 #GoBears

At first, Ilya doesn’t really understand. Marlow’s just quote tweeted one of the many gossip accounts that seemed to be posting new pictures of that night hour by hour. It certainly wouldn’t stop the pictures from being posted, nor change the fact that Ilya happened to be with someone who was dressed like a cat, but it did attempt to solve one major issue by making a huge callout to the fact that these pictures were not recent. Ilya may have spent a Halloween with this unfortunate cat girl, but it wasn’t this one, and maybe that would help to quell some of Shane’s worries, even if he might not get over the fact that his soon-to-be husband was a retired whore.

“There,” Cliff says with a goofy, satisfied grin, like he’s just solved all of Ilya’s problems with one tweet.

It probably wasn’t that simple, but admittedly, Ilya thinks it might alleviate part of the issue. He turns his phone on silent, as the notifications start to stack up again from Marlow’s new post, and places his phone down on the table.

“Now, the future Mr. Rozanov can rest easy.”

Ilya’s smile dies right on his face. “What?” He replies in confusion, because there’s no way that Marlow just…

“Well, I’m right, aren’t I?” He snorts, jerking his head in the direction of Ilya’s ring once again. “Men don’t usually wear an engagement ring. So, unless you and your girl are particularly progressive, you must be engaged to a dude. Right?”

Ilya’s mouth is left hanging open in shock. Fuck. Would it really be that easy for someone to put the pieces together? Or did Marlow just happen to know him better than most people?

“Dude, relax,” Marlow chimes in, once he notices that Ilya has gone white as a ghost. “You didn’t really think I would care about something like that, did you?”

“I—” Ilya stutters, shaking his head as he forces himself back into motion, reaching for his drink to take a grounding sip and confirm he’s actually experiencing this right now, instead of entering some weird alternate reality. “No one has outright guessed before. Frankly, I am a little bit surprised.”

“You shouldn’t be. I know you better than anyone, don’t I?” Marlow laughs good-naturedly, taking it upon himself to clink his beer against Ilya’s glass. “I mean, the second I saw that necklace—”

Ilya’s heart stops in his chest. “Necklace,” he repeats, eyes wide, limbs frozen in place.

“Come on.” Marlow offers him a look as if to say, seriously? “Your mother’s necklace? The one you’ve never taken off in the ten years I’ve known you? You think I wouldn’t notice something was up when it suddenly appeared on Hollander’s neck?”

Ilya opens his mouth to speak again, but no words come out. He’s stunned. Has Marlow known this whole time? Did his other teammates? How long would it be before the entire world figured it out right along with them?

“Relax,” Marlow assures him, seemingly able to pick up on his rising panic. “No one else seems to have any idea. Your secret is totally safe with me.”

And that has Ilya relaxing a little bit. A tiny bit. But not much.

“You are reacting to this much calmer than I would expect,” Ilya replies, still feeling tension in his shoulders as he tries to come to terms with the fact that Marlow is fully aware that he and Shane are together.

Marlow just shrugs. “I mean, you’ve always been kinda weird about him, haven’t you? Like how you used to watch all his interviews and stalk his Instagram, but you’d blame it on the scoring race. Or when he and Rose Landry were supposedly engaged, and you made us skate suicides for almost the entire time they were together.”

Ilya lets out a surprised laugh.

“Plus, don’t think I didn’t notice your obsession with freckles. He’s totally your type.”

“Ah, no,” Ilya corrects immediately. “There is no type. It is him. Only him. Everyone else was just a distraction until I could have the real thing.”

Marlow’s lips curl into a slow smile. “I’m really happy for you, Roz.”

It shouldn’t mean as much to Ilya as it does.

-

Shane is sick of tossing and turning. Instead of a peaceful night’s sleep, all he’s gotten out of staying in is a ferocious case of anxiety that’s only festering with the added darkness. He can’t stop his mind from picturing the cat girl, from filling in the blanks from the many other nights Ilya probably spent fucking someone else. Girls. Boys. People who weren’t Shane.

Shane’s body count feels measly in comparison. A few girls, sure. Rose, which is kind of…gross to think about now, but he’s grateful that it brought her into his life. He’d attempted one failed hook-up with a guy, and other than that, nothing. Maybe six people total if he was being generous by counting his first high school girlfriend, who he’d barely gone to third base with.

But Ilya…if his body count was well into the triple digits, that meant he’d slept with hundreds of people. Multiple hundreds. Multiple hundreds of people who have sat on his future husband’s nine-inch dick that is curved deliciously for optimal pleasure. Multiple hundreds of people who have gotten off from his future husband’s very capable hands and even more talented mouth. Multiple hundreds of people who might have a picture, or a story, or an experience that they’re just dying to share for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Fuck. Shane pushes himself out of bed and immediately throws on some clothes while texting Troy to see where the team’s ended up tonight. He can’t sit in this room alone any longer if his mind’s just going to torture him with what-if’s and could-be’s.

When he gets to the bar, he’s relieved to find that everyone’s already a little drunk, so much so that none of them comment on his late arrival or the terrible mood he’s been in for the last two days.

“Shaneee,” Troy greets him, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here. Look, Harris already ordered you a drink,” he grins, sliding the crisp glass of vodka over to him.

Shane lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he accepts the drink gratefully. “Thanks, guys,” he murmurs, taking a heavy sip as he shuts his eyes to allow the liquor to wash over him.

“No problem,” Harris smiles, and Shane tries not to track the movement as Harris links his hand with Troy’s over the table. “So, Rozy’s out for drinks with Marlow, huh?”

Shane tenses and tightens his fingers around the glass in his hand. “Yup.”

“Lucky us,” Troy declares, grabbing onto Shane’s shoulder. “More Shane time for me, right?” He laughs, and he’s in such a good mood that it pulls a laugh out of Shane as well.

“That’s right,” Shane agrees, feeling a little lighter when Troy squeezes his shoulder like he’s trying to rid some of the tension that’s built up over the last day or so.

“Hey, Hollander’s in the house,” Hazy whoops as he sidles up to their table. “Look what Dykstra just managed to hook us up with,” he relays, before producing three joints that he pulls from his back pocket. “You guys down for a smoke outside?”

Shane raises his eyebrows as he looks between the rest of the group, trying to gauge their reactions, but everyone seems positively stoked at the idea, so Shane wordlessly follows the rest of them outside with his drink in tow. He leans against the stone brick wall in the alleyway behind the bar, taking a sip of his vodka as Bood and Holmberg each spark up.

He knows it’s pathetic, but he feels a little lost without Ilya here. Shane had never been a big going-out person before, and now, being here without his comfort person, he understands why. What was so fun about drinking in a loud bar? Choking down alcohol that didn’t taste very good. Forcing himself to be social when all he really wanted was to shut his mind off. But tonight was just about distracting himself until he could hopefully pass out later. Even being around the guys right now, Shane’s finding it hard not to think of that girl…

He blinks when he notices the joint hovering in front of him, realizing that they’ve now reached his turn in the rotation, and Wyatt is just waiting for him to take the hit.

“Hollzy?” He prompts when Shane still hasn’t moved.

“Um,” Shane stutters, eyebrows creasing together. “I’ve never actually…”

“You’ve never smoked weed?” Troy bellows, his eyes wide as his mouth opens in shock.

“Holy shit. Seriously?” Wyatt asks, looking Shane over in disbelief. “Oh, dude, you’ve gotta try it.”

Shane laughs awkwardly. “I don’t know if—”

“Gimme that,” LaPointe demands, once it becomes clear that Shane’s still on the fence.

Shane watches as he inhales, watches as his face seems to relax once the drug hits his system, and then…a puff of smoke in its wake.

“Jesus, that’s some good shit,” LaPointe laughs while passing the joint off to Troy.

“What’s it like?” Shane can’t help but wonder, his head tilted as he watches Troy take a hit this time.

“Oh, it’s awesome, dude. I smoke all the time for my anxiety. It totally helps to calm me down.”

“Really?” Shane asks again, his curiosity getting the better of him as he watches his entire team enter some new, tranquil sort of state. He feels a little left out, but he still doesn’t understand what exactly he’s being left out of.

“Weed is awesome,” Bood grins hazily, and before Shane knows it, the second joint is coming around to his point in the circle. “You want some, Hollz?”

Shane looks around at the rest of the guys, all of whom have bloodshot eyes now, except for Harris, who is watching him cautiously. Shane just shrugs and reaches for the lit joint, figuring it can’t possibly make him feel any worse than he already does. “What do I do?” He asks, looking over to Troy this time for instruction.

Troy grins and holds the other joint in his hand, gesturing for Shane to mimic him. “Just wrap your lips around the end and inhale deeply for a few seconds. Then, hold your breath and breathe out.”

Shane follows the steps exactly as Troy has outlined, taking a deep inhale before holding his breath and letting the smoke spill out of him in a jolted fury. He coughs heavily as it does, the smoke burning his lungs while the taste hits him like burnt asphalt. “Jesus,” Shane splutters out, handing the joint off before clutching at his stomach to cough some more.

Troy laughs and pats his back a few times, like it will somehow help the god-awful feeling of bonfire that’s scorched its way inside of him.

“Here.” Wyatt hands him the second joint before producing and lighting a third. “Take another hit. You have to smoke a lot your first time to get high.”

“Totally,” Holmberg nods in agreement. “Hollzy, just finish that one off.”

So, Shane does. He listens to the boys as they instruct him. He inhales when he’s told. He coughs a metric fuck-ton. He smokes until the world around him starts to look blurry, and the feelings inside of his body start to become glaringly present.

By the time they head back inside, Shane’s heart is beating a million miles per minute. He’s hyper-aware of the way it’s thudding loudly against his chest. He can hear it in his ears over the increasing noise of the bar chatter around him. His teammates’ lips are moving, but it’s hard to make out what any of them are saying with all the things distracting him.

“How you feeling?” Harris asks, eyebrows pinched together as he surveys Shane.

Shane just blinks at him worriedly. Why is Harris asking him that? Does he not seem okay? Does he not look okay? Is he acting weird? Can everyone tell?

Troy is laughing wildly beside him, grabbing onto Harris wherever he can reach. “Oh my god. I can’t believe that was your first time smoking weed.”

Troy should probably lower his voice. Shane’s pretty sure they’re not really supposed to be smoking weed as professional athletes. What if someone overhears? What if someone reports them to the NHL, and their entire team is barred from playing for the rest of the season? Was Shane really prepared to forfeit the Stanley Cup over a fucking joint? Fuck, he did not think this through.

“Just let me know if you start to feel weird, okay?” Harris pulls his attention once again.

Before Shane can respond, however, Wyatt is clapping him on the shoulder.

“God, that game was fucking brutal. I know I blocked a lot of shots, but Rozy wasn’t kidding when he said those Bears do not mess around.”

“No shit,” Bood agrees, burying his head in his hands. “I think if I hear the words meow, meow one more time, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“Yeah, well. Imagine how Shane feels, bro,” Holmberg calls out. “I mean, it’s one thing to have your fiancé plastered all over the internet with some other chick, but to have it show up on the ice like that? Fucking brutal.”

Shane tries not to let the ground swallow him whole.

“Dressed like a cat, too. I mean, what are the odds?” LaPointe laughs maniacally.

And Shane can’t be sure, but it kind of feels like they’re laughing at him. He opens his phone to see if he has any missed messages from Ilya. He tries not to spiral when there aren’t any. Right. Cause this was just another day in the life for him. Nothing new. Nothing out of the ordinary. Shane felt like his entire world was crashing down around him, but Ilya…Ilya was having the time of his life with his old teammate. They were probably reminiscing on all the girls they used to fuck back in the day. Back when Ilya was apparently going out and humping everything that moved, as long as that person had dark hair and a face full of freckles. Shane can’t catch a breath.

“Shane, buddy,” Harris says again, and he’s touching his shoulder this time.

Shane immediately jolts out of his grip. He wipes his sweaty palms against the fabric of his jeans. He feels hot. Out of place. Panicked in a way he usually doesn’t. Was he having a heart attack? Was he going crazy? Could everyone tell?

“Do you want me to call Ilya?” Harris still looks apprehensive, and when Shane faces the rest of the group, he realizes that everyone’s eyes are on him.

“I—" Shane breathes out, shaking his head quickly. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna run to the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.” He doesn’t wait for a response before making a hasty exit, practically slamming the door shut behind him so he can lock himself in the single stall room.

Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck. Shane’s hands are trembling as he tries to calm himself down by running his shaking fingers through his hair.

Why hadn’t Ilya tried to call him yet? Was he just trying to give Shane his space like Shane had wanted? Or was he secretly pissed off? Maybe his time with Cliff was reminding him of why he liked to be single in the first place. Maybe he was beginning to question his engagement to Shane at this very moment. Shane, with all of his very difficult and complex needs. Shane and his absolutely bizarre obsession with wanting to be a cat.

Except for Ilya obviously liked cats. Was clearly drawn to them if that girl was anything to go off of. Had it been the cat ears, though, or had it been the freckles? Was it the whiskers that had drawn him to her, or just the fact that she was Asian? Did Ilya have some weird Asian fetish? Was that it? Did he just like Shane because Shane was practically the only Asian player in the entire NHL? Did that turn him on for some reason? Excite him in some way? Did he just see Shane as someone who was rare and exotic in a sea full of white people? Did they even have Asian people in Russia? Shane isn’t sure.

Shane clutches onto the sink tightly and tries not to lose his mind. He quickly turns on the water and splashes some over his face. Then, he does the absolute dumbest thing possible and looks at the pictures again.

He zooms in on the way Ilya’s gripping her ass beneath the tutu. He takes note of the long hair that she’s flipping over her shoulder. His twitter feed lights up, encouraging him to refresh, so he does, and oh, good. There’s a video this time.

Ilya’s talking in her ear, and the girl is laughing like he’s just said the funniest thing in the world. He’s touching her all over. Her waist. The small of her back. Petting over her like he’s done to Shane a million and one times now. Shane wants to bash his face into the mirror.

He’s dialing Ilya’s number before he can think any better of it. Needs to give Ilya a piece of his mind. Needs Ilya to understand how much this fucking sucks, how much Shane is hurting over this stupid girl and these stupid pictures. Fuck. He needs Ilya to calm him down. He needs Ilya to tell him everything’s going to be okay. Shane isn’t sure he likes being high, and right now, it feels like he’s going to be stuck like this forever.

The phone rings and rings and rings, but Ilya doesn’t answer, and Shane is really starting to freak out now. Maybe Ilya was off talking to some girl. Maybe he was just keeping up appearances so Marlow wouldn’t raise any suspicions about why the great Rozanov no longer had a desire to get laid. Maybe a similar girl with similar features was all over him at this very moment.

Shane buries his face in his hands as he sinks to the bathroom floor, his back pressed up against the door while he sucks in desperate, jagged breaths.

Fuck. Maybe Hayden had a point. Maybe Shane has gotten engaged way too early. Four months was not a lot of time to get to know someone, even if he’s technically known Ilya for the better part of a decade now. And Ilya had his tattoo, sure, but that was mostly for his mother, right? To honor her, since Shane had stolen his necklace away. His last remaining keepsake from Russia. Even the Ottawa club could boil down to Ilya wanting a place closer to home now that he had up and moved cities. Fuck. Maybe Shane has gotten this all wrong. Maybe his relationship with Ilya is not at all what he thinks.

-

“And then, when I got home, he was just there surrounded by flowers and candles,” Ilya is relaying, a big, giddy grin overtaking his features. “After I walked in, he got down on one knee and proposed. I was not expecting it at all. Mind you, I was fresh off of my tattoo appointment, my hand was fucking killing me, and I’d spent hours sitting in the chair—”

“Jesus,” Marlow comments, letting out a warm laugh. “I can imagine.”

“Mm,” Ilya hums, eyes lit with a fondness that threatens to consume him. “But it was all worth it for the look on his face.”

“The tattoo’s for him, then?” Marlow asks, peering down at it as Ilya slides his hand across the table to give him a better look.

“It has deeper meaning that I will not go into,” Ilya admits, because this was more than enough for one night. “It is partially for my mother, of course, but it is representative of our relationship in more ways than one. The charity. How we got together. All of it.”

“It sounds like you two have something really special.”

“He is the love of my life,” Ilya agrees, his chest going tight as he tries not to feel overcome with emotion.

“So, you’ve really been in love with him this whole time?” Marlow questions, not unkindly.

Ilya just presses his lips together and nods. “Maybe I did not realize it at first, but…from the moment I met him, I felt something. Something I did not have a name for until many years later.”

“And you never tried to—I don’t know,” Marlow pauses, his eyebrows cinched together. “Make a move?”

Ilya puffs a laugh while shoving his fingers through his curls. It felt so fucking good to talk to someone about this. Someone who he’s known for his entire career. Someone who wouldn’t judge him. Someone who Ilya didn’t have to worry about potentially leaking this story to the press.

“I arranged a whole photoshoot for us summer before rookie season. Spent the entire day flirting my ass off. He gave me his hotel room and everything,” Ilya relays, shaking his head at the memory. “I waited outside his room for hours, only to find out ten years later that I’d gotten the room number wrong. Wasn’t even on the right floor.”

“Jesus, Roz,” Marlow snorts, throwing his head back. “Fumble of the fucking century. No wonder you were so miserable for so many years. But, hey, it worked out, didn’t it? That’s how you know it’s meant to be.”

“Yes,” Ilya nods his agreement, because he had to choose to see it that way, otherwise the guilt and regret would eat him alive.

“So, where is he right now? Out with the rest of the team? You could have brought him along, you know?” Cliff offers, downing the rest of his beer. “You’ll have to introduce us one day. I’ve gotta meet the guy who locked down the Ilya Rozanov. Even if he did kidnap you away to become a Canadian.”

“Technically, I kidnapped him away from Montreal. Since those stupid fucking Voyageurs are so god damn homophobic.” Ilya rolls his eyes. The mere thought of the Voyageurs was enough to make his head nearly explode from rage.

“I knew something was up when he wasn’t at training camp.” Marlow shakes his head, tapping his fingers against his empty beer bottle. “You don’t leave a team like that without good reason.”

“Yeah, well. They did not leave him much of a choice. I have never heard of a team being so disrespectful to their Captain. Especially one who has led them to as many Cups as Shane has.” Ilya clenches his jaw. “They are lucky I am a healed individual, otherwise I would be using each and every one of my connections with the Russian mob to hunt them down and have them dismembered.”

Ilya smiles when Cliff just lets out a loud cackle. Fuck, he’s really missed his teammate. There were very few people who Ilya felt like understood him as is, without filter, but Cliff was one of them. Cliff was someone he had always been himself around, even when there were key parts that he always felt like he was hiding. But Cliff clearly saw him. If he had clued into Ilya’s decade-long obsession with Shane, maybe he saw him in much deeper clarity than Ilya had even realized.

“Anyway, he is back at the hotel room, hopefully sleeping. This whole thing with the photos has really put him on edge. Especially since we are not out, you know? I imagine it is not easy having images shared of your fiancé with someone else.”

“Are you out to your team, at least?” Marlow questions, signaling a waiter over to order them another round. “More vodka?”

“Sure,” Ilya nods, offering the waiter a smile as he walks off to retrieve their drinks. “Yes, we have the best team in the world. They are very, very accepting. I am pretty sure they would go to war for Shane if he asked them to,” Ilya chuckles, raising his glass in cheers once a fresh round of drinks has been delivered. “They all think he is the greatest thing to grace this Earth. The group of us, together, are practically a Shane Hollander fan club. It doesn’t hurt that he is extremely motivated to win the Cup, and most of these guys have only ever dreamed of being in the same room as one.”

“Well, knowing Hollander, I’m sure that Cup is well within reach for them now. Though, don’t get it twisted. The boys and I are still prepared to give you guys a run for your money,” Cliff warns, his fake teeth glinting as he offers another toothy smile while clinking his glass against Ilya’s.

“I’m sure we will see you in the playoffs,” Ilya agrees with a smirk.

“And hopefully people will start to back off once they realize those pictures are years old. I mean, if I remember correctly, that was a tough time back then for you. Your father…your brother…”

Ilya straightens a bit at the reminder. He really had been a mess back then. It was definitely the height of his sleeping around. Unfortunately, that height lasted nearly two years before he grew tired of it. Before he grew numb. He’d still had plenty of partners in the time between that and finally connecting with Shane, but the particular phase that Marlow was referring to—the time around his father and brother’s passing—was not one that Ilya looked back on fondly.

Ilya clears his throat. “I was blackout drunk a lot of those nights,” he says, as way of agreeing because they weren’t nights he particularly wanted to remember, much less see the light of day. And the very last thing he needed was all of it being broadcast years later for the entire world to see, his Shane included.

The truth was that Ilya didn’t have a lot to live for back then. Having his entire family ripped away from him was not an experience he could have prepared himself for. His relationship with them had been so stilted at the time that he didn’t realize how hard the loss would hit him until it did. And when it did, the loneliness took him captive and held him under.

He tried to distract himself with alcohol, girls, cars, but nothing filled the void. In fact, nothing helped at all until Ilya gave himself a new purpose by investing in Svetlana’s club. He’d been a member and a loose participant in the scene for a few years, but everything changed when he decided to become a part-owner. When he decided to pour himself into something instead of wallowing and withering away into non-existence. Part of him liked to think that Shane only came to him when he did because Ilya wasn’t ready to receive him yet. Wasn’t ready to treat him and take care of him in the way he deserved.

Ilya recognizes that his past is drenched in mistakes. He knows what Shane will find, should he choose to go looting through it. A hit list of probably close to a thousand people by now; maybe only 500 if his math is that off—and he hopes to god that it is. He’s tried every drug in the book, has ended up in the hospital on multiple occasions with alcohol poisoning, and has even had to sweet-talk his way out of getting arrested more than once. He’s a walking fucking nightmare with a list of regrets a mile long, and maybe Shane needed to know what he was getting himself into before agreeing to tie himself to Ilya for the rest of forever. Maybe Ilya at least owed him that.

When Ilya refocuses in on Cliff, he’s reminded of how well this person knows him, of how much time they’ve spent together to have given Marlow a unique ability of being probably one of the only people in this world who can read what Ilya is thinking just by looking at his face.

“He’d be crazy to think any different of you,” Marlow offers, before Ilya can figure out what to say. “Just…you know. Talk to him. Explain it. Hollander seems like a good guy. I’m sure he’ll understand. Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to see you’ve obviously cleaned your act up. You have the look of a man in love, Roz,” he teases, playfully leaning forward to knock his knuckles against Ilya’s cheek.

It works to pull a laugh out of Ilya, and he feels really fucking grateful to still have a friend like this around after everything. He’s about to tell Marlow as much when his necklace hums to life on his chest, his engagement ring making a buzzing noise against the pendant that immediately puts Ilya at unease. 

He flips his phone over on instinct, since Ilya turned off his notifications with the hopes of getting just one hour of peace from the incessant tabloids. He’s regretting that now when he sees the 5 missed calls from Shane, 1 from Troy, and 2 from Harris. 

“Fuck,” Ilya curses, standing from the table to start tugging his jacket on. “I’m sorry, Marly. I really have to go.” He reaches for his wallet to pull out some cash, but Marlow is stopping him with a hand on his arm before he can get there.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. You get going. I’ve got the check.” He waves off, grabbing his own wallet instead. And Ilya must look like he wants to argue, because Marlow doubles down a moment later. “It was good seeing you,” he smiles, pointing at Ilya this time. “Next time I’m in Ottawa, I wanna meet this fiancé of yours, okay?”

Ilya’s lips curl slightly at the edges as he steps forward to pull Marlow into a one-armed hug. “Absolutely. I will put it on the calendar,” Ilya agrees, because he’d really like to introduce him to Shane. “And either way, I will be seeing you at the wedding, yes?” Ilya hums, his heart clenching when he gets another one of those classic toothy Marlow grins.

“Wouldn’t miss it, Roz.”

It’s the last thing Marlow says before Ilya high-tails it out of there in pursuit of Shane.

Ilya doesn’t entirely know what’s going on. Of all the phone calls, he only has two texts, and they’re both from Harris. One is an address; the other, a message to get there ASAP. Luckily, it’s only a five-minute drive from where he is currently, so he calls an Uber and asks the driver to step on it.

When he finally gets there, all of the boys look guilty. They’re avoiding eye contact, but Ilya doesn’t even care because the only person he’s looking for right now is Shane. Where the fuck is Shane?

“Ilya, thank god,” Harris says as he rushes over. “He’s this way. In the bathroom. Troy is with him.”

“Is he okay? What the fuck is going on?” Ilya demands, following Harris to the back of the bar.

“He’s fine, I think. He’s just really freaked out,” Harris winces, and Ilya doesn’t have time to ask what he isn’t telling him because, a moment later, Harris stops in front of a door and knocks on it twice. “Can you open up? Ilya’s here.”

There’s an unlocking sound, and then the door snicks open to reveal his Shane, wide-eyed, teary, and with his knees pulled to his chest as he sucks in a series of panicked gasps.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” Ilya breathes out as he throws himself forward to get to Shane.

Troy very narrowly avoids getting caught in the crossfire by slipping away at the last second, just as Ilya gets his arms around him.

“Some of the guys brought out some joints, and Shane mentioned he’s never tried weed, so…” Harris trails awkwardly. “They offered him some. I guess everyone thought it might help with his anxiety about the pictures.”

Ilya tightens his grasp on Shane as the other lets out a distressed sound, like it’s causing him actual physical pain to have to think about the shit storm that’s still circling around online, the pictures haunting Ilya like a sick and vengeant ‘I told you so.’

“Who the fuck…is everyone?” Ilya grits out, turning over his shoulder to glare between Harris and Troy searchingly, but they look just as guilty as the rest of the guys.

“I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I didn’t want to overstep—” Harris tries. He cuts himself off, however, when Ilya tells both of them to get hell out and guard the door.

-

The one constant in Shane’s life these days is Ilya. And at a time where he feels so far from himself, having someone familiar to hold onto brings with it an enormous, enormous relief. Shane clutches onto him like a lifeline as soon as he arrives.

Harris and Troy are still in the vicinity. He can hear them speaking in hushed voices around him, but all Shane can focus on right now is the soothing scent of Ilya’s cologne, a safety anchor he’s become accustomed to as of late. When Ilya pulls him close, Shane goes nose-first into his neck, taking a big inhale until the recognition washes over him and soothes his body in a hyper-tuned way that he’s never experienced before.

He hears the word pictures again, and he can’t help the way he tenses, shuddering as he encircles his arms around Ilya this time, beckoning the other closer. Pretty soon, Troy and Harris disappear, though, and that’s when Ilya really starts talking to him the way he needs.

“You’re okay, baby. Don’t freak out. Everything’s just feeling really intense right now, yeah? It’ll calm down soon, but I am right here with you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Shane nods to give Ilya an indicator that he’s listening as he sucks in a deep breath, sinking against the hand that’s rubbing over his back in comfortable succession. He presses his face a little more securely into Ilya’s neck and continues to try and bring himself back to baseline.

“I did not even know you were going out, Shane. Fuck. I would have kept my phone on if I’d known. I’m sorry I did not answer your call when you needed me,” Ilya murmurs against his skin, and Shane’s heart aches at how good he is.

“You’re here now,” Shane sniffles, because that was all that mattered.

Ilya winds his arms tighter around Shane’s waist. “What happened to staying in tonight, sweetheart?” He asks quietly, as Shane rubs his wet nose across Ilya’s neck to soothe himself.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Shane admits, his voice raw. He’s not trying to hide, so he doesn’t filter away any of the emotion. He isn’t sure he could even if he wanted to. The air is still buzzing against his skin. The fabric of his shirt is making him shift uncomfortably. “I couldn’t stop thinking about those fucking pictures,” he finally breathes out, and he can feel the way it causes Ilya to stiffen in response.

“Shane—”

“I don’t…I don’t want to talk about it,” Shane interrupts before Ilya can tell him something he doesn’t want to hear right now. “I just, fuck. I’m freaking out, and I need you, and I want to go home.”

He means the hotel because, unfortunately, home is not an option right now. If it was, maybe Shane would fancy a nice nap in his crate. Or even better, curling up in his omega nest that was filled to the brim with Ilya’s clothes. Shane grips onto the other’s shirt tightly at the idea.

“My nest,” he hiccups a gasp. “At the hotel. Please. I need my nest.”

Ilya looks down at him in confusion, but Shane can see the moment the realization washes over him, and Shane practically melts when Ilya’s gaze instantly softens. “You want your nest, baby? Need to be surrounded by your Alpha’s scent. Is that it?”

“Please,” Shane swallows thickly, scrambling for purchase as he slides his hands all over Ilya’s big, beefy chest. The fabric of his shirt feels so good against Shane’s palms. What was that? Silk? God, Ilya looked nice. Was this all for Marlow? Or had he really been looking to score this evening?

Ilya’s face changes as Shane’s does, eyes grazing over his features repeatedly like he’s trying to get a read on him. “Let’s get out of here, hm?” Ilya voices, bringing his hand up to slowly thumb at Shane’s freckles.

At first, Shane leans into it, but then he remembers the girl from the picture. He remembers the video of Ilya touching her, petting her. Shane shudders and shies away, lightly pulling at Ilya’s wrist to get him to stop.

“Alright, angel,” Ilya says after a moment. “I am going to call us a car. When we get back to the hotel room, we are going to talk, and you will tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s not a request; it’s a command, so Shane doesn’t try to argue. Instead, he wipes his face on the sleeves of his jacket, he takes Ilya’s hands when prompted to hoist himself up, and he forces himself not to spiral as Ilya leads him out of the bar without touching him. They’re still in public, after all—still just teammates to the outside world—which meant that Shane couldn’t glue himself to Ilya like the cat girl could.

Because Ilya and her, that was okay, but Shane and Ilya would be wrong. Right? Because they were two men, or maybe because they were rivals. And if Shane had been wearing the ears, that would’ve been wrong as well. Because girls were allowed to want to be cats, especially on Halloween, but guys? Absolutely not. That was weird. And stupid. And feminine. And for a few minutes, Shane is glad that it’s the cat girl being posted all over the internet instead of him, because Shane wouldn’t have been able to take it. All those eyes. All those opinions. That was why he and Ilya were still in the closet, after all. That was why they might always be.

“Hey, breathe for me,” Ilya commands when Shane apparently forgets how to. “It is in your head, Shane. You are on drugs,” Ilya reminds him, quietly enough that the driver won’t be able to hear.

Shane digs his nails into Ilya’s thigh, doing his best not to be obvious about how much he’d rather be in his lap. His head keeps pulling him in a thousand different directions, but his body knows one thing for sure: nothing would be more comforting than Ilya’s touch right now. The air coming out of the car’s cooling system feels like it’s assaulting his skin. There’s a smell permeating the vehicle that he’s reading too much into. Even the way his jeans are digging into his abdomen is making him want to jump out of his skin.

“We are here,” Ilya informs lowly as the car rolls to a stop.

Shane jumps when the door unlocks right next to his ear.

“Easy,” Ilya murmurs, and Shane’s eyes fall victim to his steady gaze. “Everything is okay.” Ilya waits for Shane’s nod before leading him inside.

As they pass through the lobby, Shane feels like everyone is watching him. They must be able to read it on his face. How gone he is for Ilya Rozanov, a man who had people falling at his feet everywhere he went. Shane couldn’t blame them, even. Ilya was hot, and talented, and a really good person, despite what the press liked to make him out to be.

Shane supposes his biggest fear of all is that Ilya will get bored someday. Bored of waking up next to the same person every morning. Bored of only having one body to sink himself into. Bored of Shane and all his rules. Bored of how much reassurance he needs. Bored of how often he calls yellow, or even red, because Shane wasn’t as kinky and adventurous as Ilya was. Shane could probably never compare to what his previous subs were to him.

Maybe Ilya wanted a sub with less limits. A sub who craved punishment, or had less of a set identity, the way Ivan seemed to. Maybe Ilya wanted someone who was okay with being passed around. Okay with threesomes or even foursomes or anything at all other than being a cat.

Shane feels like he’s sinking into the Earth’s molten core by the time they finally get to their hotel room. His face is on fire. His skin is burning. He’s a million layers deep in the mental warfare of his own self-destruction. He wonders if Ilya can sense it, too.

“Just try to relax,” Ilya says as the door closes behind them. “You aren’t going to feel this way forever. It’s going to pass.”

But what if it doesn’t, Shane’s brain demands. Because it’s not the physical effects that are bothering him the most; it’s the mental ones. The ones that keep telling him over and over again that he’s just one of many. He’s not special. He’s not Ilya’s only lover. He wasn’t his first, and he may not even be his last. He’s only had a claim on him for four fucking months, and the sudden revelation that he might not have him forever is almost too much for Shane to handle.

“Hey. Deep breaths,” Ilya reminds him, a hand on his back now that they’re alone and they can exist without having to pause and think through their every move.

That doesn’t stop Shane, however. From thinking. Overthinking. Re-thinking everything that’s happened between him and Ilya over these last few months. How many others were there like him? Had Ilya convinced anyone else that they were going to be his one and only? Or was Shane just a special type of lay for him? A unique get that Ilya had been after for years.

“Shane, I am going to need you to voice your thoughts out loud for me,” Ilya requests. “Because you are in your head right now, and it is scaring me.”

Oh, yeah. Cause Ilya knew him well enough to know that Shane’s mind was a weapon. Sometimes, it could stay dormant for days, even weeks at a time, but it was always loaded. It was always ready and aimed to fire. And today, the safety was off. Anyone and everyone was a possible target. Shane braces himself for impact.

“She looks just like me,” he relinquishes the first and most-present bullet that’s worked its way into the sensitive flesh of his mind and heart. “The hair. The freckles,” he gasps.

“She does,” Ilya agrees calmly. And then, “She could never compare to the real thing.”

Shane sucks in a stuttered breath because that doesn’t make sense. Not to him. Not right now, at least. “Do all of them look like that? Like me?”

Ilya sighs like he doesn’t want to answer, and Shane tries not to die a little more inside. “A lot of them, probably,” he admits.

Shane shuts his eyes and shakes his head, willing all of this to go away. He can’t handle losing the dream life he’s been letting himself picture. The life where he actually gets to have everything: hockey, a husband, a group of friends who love him and accept him as is. It was all being ripped away from him before his very eyes.

“So, what?” Shane lets out a bitter laugh to mask how close he is to losing control. “I’m just the first one you convinced to stick around? How many people with freckles did you fuck before you settled on me?”

Ilya’s eyebrows press together in discernment. “Shane, you have got this all backwards—”

“No, seriously, Ilya. You have a type. That much is obvious. Is it an Asian thing? Do you have some weird fetish—”

“My type is you,” Ilya cuts in before Shane can finish trying to form a rational thought. “I am not with you because you have dark hair and freckles. I do not have a fucking Asian fetish or whatever the hell you’re talking about. I was fucking those people because they looked like you. Because I am in love with you. Any physical similarities are because you are the one I could not get out of my head, not because I care about freckles. Jesus.”

“I’m just the same as all of them, aren’t I?” Shane does let the tears fall this time. He can barely hear what Ilya is saying to him because he’s so overwhelmed and overstimulated. “Put me in a lineup with everyone you’ve been with and I’d fit right in. This whole time, you made me think I was special, but I’m not fucking special. I’m just like everyone else.”

“Shane, you are the most special. Baby, please, listen to me for a second—”

“You were petting her the same way you pet me,” Shane screams, his face red with anger this time as he points to Ilya accusingly. “Everything we’ve done together,” he sobs, pressing his hands over his face. “It’s all happened already. You’ve done it all before. I thought it was ours, but it’s yours. The same fucking experience over and over again. The same moves. The same gestures. Fuck, how many other people have worn your necklace? How many other people have been your котёнок?”

-

“None,” Ilya says venomously because he refuses to let Shane’s anxious, weed-muddled brain rob this from him. From them. “I have never been with anyone the way I have been with you, Shane. I am not perfect. I am so fucking flawed, in fact, but do not twist this around on me. Do not make the love I have for you out to be anything other than what it is. And that is pure, true, soulmate-level love.”

Shane sucks in another gasp, and Ilya is really terrified he’s going to stop breathing altogether, so he makes the executive choice to grab Shane by the scruff of his neck and drag him over to the bed.

“I understand you are overwhelmed right now. I know that this game was not easy on you, that these pictures are hurting you more than I could have ever prepared for, and fuck, I am so sorry that you have to experience this right now,” Ilya apologizes with all his might as he deposits a bone-dead Shane onto the comforter. “But I will not let you destroy all of our memories together over my shitty past. I will not let you push me away just because you are scared.”

“But you—” Shane tries, only Ilya cuts him off with a hand over his mouth. This time, he sits on top of him and plants himself right in Shane’s lap, so the other is trapped under his weight and forced to listen.

“I have been with a lot of people, yes. I am not proud of it, but it is the truth, and I cannot change what has already happened,” he explains, blue eyes searching brown as Shane just stares back at him helplessly. “But hear me when I say I would take all of it back if I could. If there was any way to make you my one and only experience, I would, Shane. I would do it in a heartbeat.” He sighs and drops his head to Shane’s chest for a minute, trying to soothe himself with the off-beat thrum of Shane’s rapidly increasing heart rate. “I am just a person. I have mannerisms. Quirks that were probably present for every partner I’ve been with. The way I kiss. The way I touch…” he trails off, picking his head back up to meet Shane’s gaze once more. “But believe me, the similarities end there. There is nothing that compares to how I feel when I am with you. It is entirely unique. It is not like anything I have felt in my entire life. And I am telling the truth when I say that all of those people were just sick and unsatisfying copies of you when I did not know or think that I could ever have the real thing.”

Shane is crying harder now. He hasn’t tried to speak or say anything else, but Ilya keeps his hand over Shane’s mouth just in case because he has so much more he wants to tell him. So much that probably shouldn’t be discussed with Shane high and writhing beneath him, but he can’t let Shane believe the lies that his brain is telling him for a single second longer.

“I have not told you everything about myself,” Ilya heaves a breath. “The period of my life when my father died, when my brother and his family did—” Ilya pauses, shutting his eyes briefly. “I lost everyone who I am related to in the span of a few months. My entire family…gone. There is no rational way to react to something like that. And so, yes, I fucked until I thought my dick was going to fall off. I buried my problems in alcohol and girls and anything I could to try and distract myself from the pain. To try and distract from the fact that I was completely and utterly alone in this world—”

Shane sniffles and shuts his eyes tightly as well, an avalanche of tears pouring out of him while Ilya just holds him steady.

“Until Sveta intervened. Until she forced me to get my act together. To live for something other than my own vices. And mostly, that came in the form of the club, in Domming, so I could actually fucking mean something to someone other than myself after a lifetime of providing for my family, of them needing me to survive—” Ilya shakes his head. “Because I was suddenly nothing. No purpose. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to strive towards until…you. All of it was completely meaningless until you.”

Shane is calmer beneath him now, watching Ilya like he’s actually listening instead of working himself into a spiral, so Ilya carefully eases his hand off Shane’s mouth and slips his fingers through his hair instead.

“Why?” Shane says brokenly, his voice raw and raspy from crying even as he leans into Ilya’s touch. “Why me? What the fuck makes me so different compared to anyone else you could have had?”

Ilya just looks down at him with fond eyes. “You are one of the first people I met when I first came here. I could barely speak English, I did not know what you were saying to me, and already, we should have been sworn enemies. But you were complimenting my hockey and, when you introduced yourself, you shook my hand twice. Tried to make conversation with me, even though I could not be sure why. What angle you were playing at.”

Shane swallows and furrows his eyebrows.

“I thought you were the prettiest thing I had ever seen. The sweetest, too. So nice when you did not have to be. The only person I really knew when I was forced to upend my life. Move to a different country. A place where people are not so welcoming to foreigners, especially ones who do not speak very good English,” Ilya relays from where he and Shane are still just inches apart. “And you were the best. The very best. Usually, players like this are cocky. Competitive. Assholes. But not you. You were kind from the start, and at one point, I envied this about you,” he lets himself admit. “How you could be ruthless on the ice, but still so personable in interviews. How you could make everyone like you. You did not have to chirp or get into fights to make your mark. You did all of this simply by being good at your craft.”

Shane lets his eyes slip shut again, like he’s absorbing the words, so Ilya gives his hair a little scratch in reward. He’s pleased when Shane takes the bait and arches into it.

“But over time, I just became more and more enamored with you. I fell in love with your drive. Your determination. How you never cared about money, or girls, or fame. You just cared about hockey. You had the perfect family, as far as I knew. The perfect life. The sponsorships. The success. But you were still a fucking mystery to me, and I couldn’t help but wonder who Shane Hollander was when the lights went down. When the cameras shut off and you scurried away back to your private cottage. Who was the boy that had been so kind to me all those years ago? Did he have someone in his life making him feel as safe and seen as he had made me feel when I was a scared seventeen-year-old?”

Shane sniffles, his sad, wet eyes blinking open to reveal little boba pupils that are rimmed with red. “And what? You wanted to fix the repressed hockey superstar?”

“Maybe,” Ilya whispers, combing over Shane’s hair once more. “Would that be so terrible? If I thought you were the most beautiful thing in this world with the saddest kitten eyes? If I wanted to be the one to make you better the same way you made me better without even realizing? Is it so crazy that sometimes I think you are the last good, pure thing on this entire Earth?”

Shane doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, he just winds his arms around Ilya’s neck and pulls him close until Ilya has no choice but to collapse on top of him and hug him with all his might.

“If it makes you feel any better, you have so many of my firsts, Shane. You are the first person I have ever loved. The first partner I have lived with. The first person I have been engaged to. You are even the first sub I’ve had a long-term arrangement with,” Ilya tells him soothingly, pressing his lips to Shane’s neck. “You are the only person to wear this necklace besides me and my mother, and you are the only one who will wear my ring when we are married. You are the only person who I will share a last name with when the time comes. I am so serious about you, Shane. I never want you to feel like you are anything but my top choice. My only choice. Before you…before this, I did not think I was right for this world.”

“Fuck,” Shane gasps out, and Ilya can feel more tears cascading down his cheeks. He feels Shane’s nails in his back, Shane’s legs wrapped around his waist. “I’m freaking out, but also, you feel really good. You feel really good against me.”

Ilya can’t help the smile that he presses into Shane’s skin, turning slightly so his scruff rubs up against Shane’s jawline. “Mm, being high can be nice when you are not having a kitten panic attack.” He smirks when Shane shivers against him before sitting up slightly to catalogue his fiancé’s face. “You are alright though, yes?” He asks carefully, searching Shane’s teary eyes. “I know it is probably not any consolation, but Marlow…he—" Ilya starts lightly. “He tweeted in a way that will let people know the photos are not recent. I figured that will hopefully at least—”

“You told him?” Shane asks abruptly, and Ilya can see that terrifying level of panic building up inside of him again.

“He guessed,” Ilya offers with a wry smile. “From this,” he hums, tugging on Shane’s collar. “But he was not surprised. Said I have always been a little obsessed with you—”

Shane cuts him off by kissing him fiercely, and with more tongue than Ilya probably deserves right now, but before he knows it, Shane is rutting up against him. Gasping into his fucking mouth like a man possessed. “I just want you to be all mine,” he gets out desperately, grappling to find somewhere to hook his claws into Ilya’s skin. “I hate the thought of you with anyone else. You’re supposed to be my person. Everyone’s had a piece of you.”

“Not the way you have me,” Ilya vows. “Never the way you’ve had me. I am more present with you than I have been with anyone in my entire life. I’m more attentive,” Ilya murmurs, attaching his lips to Shane’s neck to suck a bruise into his otherwise perfect skin. “And when I am with the person I love…” he punctuates that statement with a kiss to Shane’s pouty lips. “I am never selfish. In fact, all I can think about,” Ilya whispers hotly against Shane’s ear. “Every hour of the day…is how I can get you off better. Make you come harder. Make you want me more.”

“I could never want you more than I already do,” Shane tells him frantically. “Fuck…I—I want you so bad right now.”

Ilya just watches him carefully, trying to determine the best way to handle the situation, because Shane was clearly in a state. He was frenzied, sensitive, and very overwhelmed, but he also had this urgent need to be desired. He was staking everything on Ilya’s reaction to his advances right now, and if Ilya acted incorrectly, it could trigger a whole host of problems within their relationship that didn’t really truly exist. But Shane was high as a kite, which meant that any feeling he had could easily feel like a fact in his terrorist of a mind—one that may even haunt him all the way back to reality if Ilya allowed it to fester for too long.

“You will have me, baby. You do have me,” Ilya corrects, before Shane can get the wrong idea. “I want to make your nest so you don’t forget who you belong to, okay? I have had enough of these big-boy, human thoughts from you today. I want you to shut your mind off and listen to me now.”

He can see the change in Shane almost instantly, how his mind detaches from his body a bit. How he becomes a little more physically reliant on Ilya, sinking closer on instinct, like his heart knows where its home is once he can finally get the clutter of his thoughts to cease.

Ilya gets them set up with a big pile of his clothes on the bed. He’s basically emptied his entire suitcase, paying close attention to which clothes he’s already worn because, naturally, Shane was going to gravitate towards the scent on those the most. Next, he strips out of the clothes he’s wearing and adds them to the pile before making a pathway for him and Shane down the middle. He sits down first and spreads his legs, patting the space in front of him until Shane crawls forward.

“Right there, baby.” Ilya stops him with a hand in his hair. “Lie down on your belly for me,” he commands, placing a pillow between his thighs for Shane to rest his face. “I want you to keep my cock nice and warm for me while I sort through these items. I do not want you to move. I do not want you to think. I just want you to focus on the way that I smell, the way that I taste, and the weight of my cock on your tongue. Nothing more. Do you hear me?”

Shane whimpers like a puppy and settles into his position, reaching to slide his hands across Ilya’s blonde, hairy thighs.

Ilya positions his cock and balls over the edge of the pillow, holding his mostly flaccid dick out to feed it past Shane’s waiting and eager lips. Usually, Shane preferred to get acquainted with Ilya’s cock first, liked to rub his face all over it until Ilya was white-knuckled and fighting demons, but he’s not taking any chances this time. He doesn’t want Shane getting distracted before Ilya’s cockwarming activity can work its magic on his boy’s highly susceptible brain.

“That’s it,” Ilya says slowly, raking his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Good boy. You are so perfect for me, hm? Your mouth was made for my cock. I have never felt anything better than being inside you, Shane. God, I’d fucking live inside you if I could. You are always so warm. Take everything I give you so well.” He strokes his fingers across Shane’s cheek, hooking one of his legs over Shane’s shoulder so the other feels completely surrounded by him.

Ilya knows he’s laying the praise on a little thick tonight, but he doesn’t care. If Shane was having doubts, then Ilya would do whatever it took to ease them. Plus, there were no negatives to praising Shane too often. If anything, his kitten would just feel extra, extra loved, and as far as Ilya was concerned, that was never a bad thing. He didn’t need to prove his authority as a Dom with Shane because Shane was his partner for life, and preserving that was far more important than anything related to their dynamic. As long as they were being safe, Ilya would give him whatever he wanted. He would move mountains and oceans to keep Shane happy.

He presses his fingers more firmly against Shane’s scalp, encouraging him to relax further into the pillow under the guise of a really good head massage, and he’s pleased when Shane moans around his cock, his eyes slipping shut as he focuses on the feeling of Ilya all around him.

“Good, baby. Just relax for me, hm? You are high, so everything is heightened right now.”

-

Doesn’t Shane fucking know it. He hated whatever he was feeling before, but this…this is fucking heaven.

Holy shit. Shane should have taken up drugs a long time ago because he’s never felt more relaxed in his life. His body feels like it’s one with the bed beneath him. His cheek feels so good against the pillowcase as he melts into it. Ilya is an ever-present weight on his tongue, and Shane can’t stop suckling on him like a baby with a soother.

He’s got one arm wrapped around Ilya’s waist, keeping him as close as possible, while the other hand rests on Ilya’s warm thigh. He grazes his nails through the wiry, blonde hair just to feel the way it sends electricity through his veins, just to feel the way Ilya reaches down to squeeze his hand in reassurance.

He gets one of those every so often. A pet, or a scratch, or a few words singing his praises. Shane laps it all up like a kitten receiving a warm bowl of milk and nuzzles closer. But the real fun begins when Ilya starts testing his reaction to the different scents of each of his clothing items. Shane keeps his eyes shut because he likes how primal it feels to focus solely on his sense of smell.

The first item up smells delicious. Shane has almost no frame of reference, but it’s potent enough to have him sinking down further on Ilya’s cock to try and get closer to it.

Ilya sucks in a breath and grips Shane’s hair a little more tightly, anchoring him in place. Then, the item pulls away from him, and Shane whines with the urge to chase after it, but Ilya’s in control of his movements now. His brain sheds another layer as he sinks deeper into thoughtlessness.

The clothes keep coming, and Shane starts to tell the difference between the items he likes and the items he really likes pretty fast. Some of the clothes smell nice. Faintly like laundry detergent, or Ilya’s cologne, but some of the clothes…some of the clothes smell like musk. Like pure, unfiltered Ilya, and right now, that smell feels more real to Shane than any reassurance that could leave his lover’s lips. Because that smell…that smell is just for him.

Shane purrs and kneads his claws into Ilya’s skin, making vibrations around his cock to let Ilya know how happy he is. How much this all means to him. Because Ilya had fucked people, yes, but had he made them nests? Had he painstakingly sorted and placed each item of clothing according to their preference? All to keep them safe? All to keep them comfortable and happy and at ease? Shane didn’t think so.

Shane feels like he’s going into heat when he’s presented with what he’s pretty sure are Ilya’s boxers from this evening. He tries to make a sound around Ilya’s dick, which is rock hard in his mouth at this point, but Ilya just shushes him and holds him there. Keeps the boxers pressed to Shane’s face until Shane feels like he’s losing his mind. He blinks his teary eyes open to find Ilya staring back at him in a daze, his blue eyes foggy, yet focused.

“My sweet, little omega. You must know by now that Alphas mate for life,” Ilya tells him, gliding his fingertips along Shane’s jaw until he can fit his thumb in Shane’s mouth next to his cock. He’s still pressing the boxers to his face, still watching him with an expression that Shane wishes he could commit to memory. “You react to my scent the same way I react to yours.” Ilya makes his point by ducking forward to take a big, satisfying inhale of Shane’s hair. “It is biology, baby. I am yours and you are mine.”

Shane is so dizzy. He jerks to try and pull himself off of Ilya’s cock, but he nearly chokes himself in the process.

“Woah, easy, sweetheart. You want off? Here, let me help you.” Ilya removes his thumb from Shane’s mouth and then reaches down to gently ease his cock past Shane’s lips. “Is your jaw okay?” He murmurs, reaching to cup Shane by the chin, but Shane is scrambling on top of him before Ilya’s hand finds its destination.

“Я тебя люблю,” Shane manages from somewhere deep within him. The part of him that has been rehearsing it for five minutes a day for over a month now. He’s been saving it for a special occasion, or maybe until his pronunciation was better, but he feels like he needs to say it now. He feels like he needs to get across to Ilya in some way that this temporary implosion of doubt is just that—temporary. Shane isn’t going anywhere. Shane is in this for the long haul. No matter how scared or insecure he feels, he’s not going to run from his soulmate. Not when Ilya has made it clear on so many levels how in this he is.

Ilya just watches him, ice blue eyes looking so deep into Shane’s brown ones that, for a second, Shane is sure time has stopped, the world frozen in place around him. He doesn’t dare utter a breath, doesn’t dare move from where he’s half on top of Ilya, doesn’t even blink for a solid minute until Ilya’s lips pull into a slow smile.

“Baby,” he says, with so much emotion wrapped up inside those two syllables. “Your Russian is getting so good.” And then, before Shane knows it, Ilya is turning his head away, a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he attempts to hide how affected he is.

Shane leans forward to lick up his Alpha’s tears, and for a while, they stay just like that: Ilya lying back against the bed with Shane on top of his chest, Shane’s little kitten tongue cleaning Ilya’s tears as they fall. Eventually, Ilya wraps his arms around him, and Shane nuzzles impossibly close, content to let the world around him fall away for a bit. Things with Ilya make a whole lot more sense when he allows himself to turn his brain off and just feel. In those instances, he doesn’t have to convince himself that this is genuine; he just knows in his heart that it is.

But today is different because Shane still has a random strain of weed coursing through his system, and the way Ilya’s body feels against him is just, quite honestly, fucking ridiculous. Shane presses his hands into Ilya’s pecks, grazing his palms all the way down the ample muscle till he gets to Ilya’s taught upper abdomen. Shane mouths at his neck and tries to keep himself from grinding down against Ilya’s bare cock. His soon-to-be husband’s bare cock. The one Shane has wanted since he was a fucking teenager, and now, it was his for life. Shane doesn’t care where the hell it’s been; he just cares where it goes now that it’s his.

“Fuck, я так сильно тебя люблю,” Ilya tells him, pulling Shane into a kiss with one hand on his jaw, the other gliding down the expanse of his back.

Shane moans and nearly goes lax at the feeling of Ilya’s mouth on his. Holy fuck. Kissing has never, ever felt like this. Ilya’s tongue is so smooth and slippery against his own. Shane’s eyebrows shoot high on his head when Ilya starts sucking Shane’s tongue into his mouth, and Shane leans forward, content to let this play out however it may. Because Ilya is sending love-struck zings to each and every one of Shane’s nerve endings. He thinks this man must have somehow invented kissing because there’s no way there was anyone in the world more qualified to speak on the matter. Ilya was making love to Shane with his fucking mouth.

-

“Jesus Christ, baby. You are so horny from your catnip,” Ilya gasps when he finally manages to pull away from Shane’s suction cup lips long enough to come up for air. God, his boy was emotional and needy tonight. Not that Ilya was complaining. Ilya loved when his Shane was needy, especially when Shane clearly needed to be reminded how much Ilya needed him in return. “Is my omega going into heat? Now that I made your nest all nice and pretty for you, you feel safe to let your Alpha take care of you. Is that it? Oh, мой драгоценный омега.”

Shane just wriggles uselessly on Ilya’s chest like a ragdoll, so succumbed to the feeling of his slow-moving brain, so relaxed by the idea of giving over all his decision-making power in order to get fucked and dominated like the sultry little minx he is.

“You need your Alpha’s big knot to remind you who you belong to, don’t you?” Ilya hums, and he can feel that glow taking over again. That Dom space. That tunnel vision where all he can focus on is Shane in front of him. “God, you have no fucking idea how important you are to me,” Ilya shakes his head.

He’s still a little emotional from Shane pulling out his near-perfect pronunciation of Я тебя люблю while knee-deep in some pretty intense subspace—especially after Ilya nearly thought he was going to lose him to a weed-induced panic attack. Seeing Marlow today, and being reminded of some of the darkest moments in his life, has certainly put things into perspective as he looks down at Shane now. The light of his life. His entire future. His family. Shane, and the Hollanders, and Sveta, of course, but also Rose, as well. And the Pikes. Because anyone in Shane’s life was now part of Ilya’s, too, and the thought makes him feel incredibly warm inside. His Shane was the gift that kept on giving. He had given Ilya a purpose, a reason to stay on this Earth, and so, so much love and devotion in return.

“When I first moved to North America, I did not think it would ever feel like home to me,” Ilya admits, as he starts to maneuver Shane out of his cute little going-out shirt. “But, in these past few months with you, Canada has felt more like home than Russia ever did. You and your parents feel more like my family than my father or brother has ever felt. You are just so warm and loving, and it is in your nature to be so incredibly sweet. I can’t believe how lucky I am, sometimes. You are cute, yes, but I love you for so much more than your good looks and your adorable speckles,” Ilya tells him indulgently, booping Shane’s nose once he’s rid him of his button-up.

Shane is smiling at him in that quiet way that he does, where his eyes are practically shining up at Ilya, and his wide Cupid’s bow takes on the shape of a tiny kitten mouth.

Ilya smiles right back at him, and Shane giggles when Ilya tries to slyly wriggle him out of the rest of his clothing. “Do not get all giggly with me, котёнок. I am trying to make love to you and, instead, you are being a squirmy, little worm.”

Shane laughs fully at that, so Ilya leans forward to kiss him again. With less tongue and more feeling. He considers the scented items bordering the bed to be his version of candles, his version of a romantic gesture. A declaration to Shane, his many specific needs, and Ilya’s limitless desire to fulfil them for as long as they both shall live.

“I want you to ride me so badly,” Ilya whispers hotly into Shane’s ear, licking across the outer shell of it before dipping his tongue inside.

Shane, like the ticklish baby that he is, just starts squirming again, so Ilya bites his neck playfully.

“Enough, giggles. Stand up. Pants off, please. Listen to your Alpha when he is using his Alpha voice.”

Shane moans and goes lax in Ilya’s arms at the bite, so Ilya swiftly hoists him to his feet, encouraging Shane to hold onto his shoulders while he works on getting him naked.

“That’s a good boy. You have no English for me right now, do you? My quiet little angel. Just Russian, yes? Are you hiding any other Russian phrases from me? Don’t think I haven’t clued into the fact that you are having secret Russian kitten lessons without me. Did they teach you this one? Дай лапу.” Ilya watches carefully, but Shane is just staring back at him with big, brown, clueless eyes. “This means give me your paw,” he explains as his lips pull into a soft smile. He’s more than pleased when Shane instantly offers Ilya his cute leopard nails.

Ilya ducks down to kiss Shane’s paw, smiling to himself once again at how perfect Shane is for him. He can’t imagine anyone else letting him take control like this. Taking control of Shane’s finances. His decisions on what to wear, or how to get his pretty kitty nails painted. His desire to be good and his willingness to participate in punishments despite how fucking scared they made him sometimes. But he was willing to do it all, and so much more, for Ilya. And in that moment, Ilya vows to himself that, when he gets back home, he’s going to hire someone to hunt down the rest of these pictures and get them wiped from the internet. These pictures and any others that may exist, because Shane was too important. And if the pictures were causing him discomfort in any way, then Ilya would do whatever it took to make sure they were gone.

“I am going to have a big talk with the boys about giving my kitten things without asking his owner for permission. Imagine my surprise when I find my precious pet all zoomied out on catnip. I did not even know my kitten was out at all!” Ilya declares, over-animating himself as he pulls an exaggerated surprised face—his eyes wide, his jaw dropping open.

And Shane is eating it right up, giggling wildly like Ilya is the funniest thing ever. It seems to be keeping the mood light, so Ilya continues with the act. He uses his silly pet baby voice, that he might use on an actual cat, the entire time he gets Shane prepped. And he does so with Shane facing him in his lap while Ilya reaches behind him to finger him. Because he can’t go more than ten seconds without kissing his fiancé. God, today has reared up some ugly memories. Ilya presses close to Shane as he collapses head-first into his neck.

“Good boy,” Ilya says softly, soothingly, even as he’s massaging Shane’s prostate with two fingers, his other arm wrapped tightly around Shane’s waist. He presses a kiss to his omega’s shoulder. “Your Alpha knows exactly how to take care of you. Don’t ever forget that.”

Shane shudders, grinding his hips in little circles, and Ilya lets him because he wants Shane to set the pace tonight. Tonight, he wants Shane to have whatever he wants. He can ride Ilya to his own enjoyment until he gets tired, and then Ilya will fuck him into oblivion, pounding him into the headboard until he can no longer remember his own name.

“Ah,” Ilya tuts when Shane starts moving faster, looking like he’s getting way too close to his release for Ilya’s liking. “Do not come without my permission, baby. Do not forget who is in charge here.”

“Uh,” Shane moans, throwing his head back as Ilya massages him just right, threading his fingers further into Ilya’s curls.

Ilya takes advantage of the extra room and attaches his lips to Shane’s neck, sucking soft hickeys down the line of his throat. “You’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. The noises you make for me,” Ilya sighs, clutching onto Shane’s back to pull him closer. He’s a man possessed. “The way you react. The way you’re always, always on your best behavior. You can’t even help it, can you? It is in your nature to be good for me. To submit to me.”

Shane is still writhing around like he’s approaching a climax, rutting against Ilya’s fingers like a kitten in heat, so Ilya slowly pulls them out of him to delay the inevitable. Shane immediately starts whimpering like a wounded animal, cozying up to Ilya with desperate omega kitten licks, like it will convince Ilya to give him his treat back.

“I know, baby. I know. I am going to give you something much better, hm? You want your Alpha’s big knot to knock you up? Fill you with lots of my babies until no one questions whose you are?” Ilya offers, watching Shane’s face as he carefully pumps his cock and then lines it up with Shane’s beautiful, twitching hole.

Shane is panting so gorgeously, though, that Ilya can’t help but want to tease him a bit longer. So, he rubs the head of his cock over Shane’s rim a few times. Back and forth, pressing forward once or twice just to feel the way Shane clenches in anticipation.

“Alpha,” Shane whispers into his skin, rubbing his face all over Ilya’s scruff until Ilya’s sure his pretty cheeks will be marked with beard burn tomorrow. The thought of Shane walking around with a myriad of his markings turns Ilya on more than it should.

Ilya lets Shane’s hole catch on his cock fully this time, still holding some of Shane’s weight with an arm around his waist to help guide him down slowly. Ilya had only given him two fingers in preparation, had wanted Shane to feel the stretch, so it stayed with him a little longer than usual when they were done, so he’d have a constant reminder of just how deeply Ilya’s he really was.

-

Shane cries out, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s neck as he sinks torturously slow down the never-ending nine inches. It hurts more than it typically does, but in a good way. A burn—a sting, maybe—but not a sear. Nothing that makes him feel like he’s being split in half, since Ilya was always so careful with him.

Fucking hell. Shane has never felt closer to his fiancé than when Ilya is inside of him. When they feel like one fucking person, and Shane can feel Ilya’s dick throbbing against the inner part of his tummy, can feel how much Ilya wants him. And sometimes, Ilya’s eyes zero in on him, and it’s like Shane is the only person in the world. Like the room could be burning around them and Ilya wouldn’t even notice. He feels like that now—in Ilya’s lap, with Ilya’s blue eyes fluttering half in pleasure, half cause he’s still trying to make sure Shane is okay.

Shane tugs him into a hungry kiss, gasping into it as the motion impales him further on Ilya’s cock, but he doesn’t care. He wants to feel it. He wants Ilya to fuck him until Shane is screaming his name.

“Ilya.” Shane’s face crumples, his mouth dropping open as he sinks the last bit further, until he’s sat fully on top of Ilya’s thighs.

Ilya cards some of Shane’s hair out of his face, rubbing over his lower back lightly before both hands come to settle on Shane’s ass, squeezing each cheek between his fingers. “I love your tiger stripes so much,” Ilya tells him softly, tracing over the lines with his fingertips. “A cat in every single way, aren’t you?”

It makes Shane’s throat tight with emotion, his leopard nails digging into Ilya’s big shoulders. Because Ilya had taken his job of lifting Shane so seriously. Because he knew it was important for Shane, sometimes. To feel small in a life that had somehow become so, so large. So far from the kid who loved hockey just because it was fun, and not because he had to be the best at it. Not because he was using it as a scale to measure his self-worth.

“I…I was a scared seventeen-year-old, too, you know?” Shane whispers shakily, finding his voice again since he knows he has to communicate if he wants Ilya to understand. But he doesn’t know how to put the rest of it into words. Can’t find the proper way to say that Ilya isn’t the only one who was so affected by their initial meeting and the many years that followed.

Luckily, Ilya’s lips just pull into a smile, his eyes flickering over Shane’s like they always do when he finds him to be particularly endearing. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over the dimples in Shane’s back as he leans forward to bump their noses together. And he does seem like he knows. Really knows what Shane is trying to tell him. That Ilya was just as much of a comfort to him during those early years as Shane was.

Shane can’t fucking take being still anymore, so he circles his hips around Ilya’s cock, clutching onto him tightly when it inadvertently pulls a moan from both of them. Ilya feels a lot deeper inside of him in this position, like he can feel Ilya’s cock right against his organs, bulging against the skin of his tummy.

“You gonna ride me, kitty? Milk your Alpha’s knot until you are all full? Come on. Show me how much you want it. Show me why you deserve to have my babies in your tummy.”

Shane lifts his hips slightly and then presses himself back down onto Ilya with a satisfying sigh. He holds onto Ilya’s shoulders for leverage, trying to find a steady rhythm, but he’s too distracted by Ilya’s words. Wonders if he means what he’s actually saying.

“Would you—” Shane gasps, clutching onto Ilya’s curls while trying to catch a breath long enough to form words.

“Что-либо,” Ilya appeases, eyes grazing over him in determination.

“You would really want a family with me?” He finally manages, the words rushing out of him in one exhale, running into each other with the speed at which he’s said them. He can see the way Ilya’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to make it out, but once he does, his eyes go wide.

“Of course, I do, мой милый принц. It is all I dream about.” Ilya punctuates that statement with a thrust, and Shane’s eyes go half-lidded in pleasure. “You are the love of my life. It is only natural to want everything under the sun with you. You’re my family. My whole world. The father of my future kids.”

Shane moans wildly and grinds back against Ilya’s cock because, with that image in mind, he’s suddenly ravenously horny. Not that he wasn’t before, but…wow. The thought of Ilya being the father of his children…holy fuck. Ilya would be a hot dad. Everything Ilya did was hot, but there was nothing hotter than the idea of Ilya raising Shane’s children. God, he’d probably be the most irritating PTA parent alive. Shane loves him so fucking much.

“Does that turn you on, baby?” Ilya grunts out a laugh as Shane starts fucking himself back onto Ilya’s insanely amazing dick that has just the perfect amount of curve. “Your Alpha raising your kids. Taking care of them. Of you. Keeping our whole family safe. Your big, strong Alpha.”

“Please,” Shane begs, dropping his forehead to Ilya’s to pant against his mouth while grinding his hips.

“You don’t have to beg,” Ilya smirks. “You already know I’m going to give you the best babies of all time,” Ilya says hotly into his lips. “Whole litter of hockey stars. We’re going to be the worst hockey dads, yelling at the refs for all their bad calls.”

Shane’s heart clenches uncontrollably, skyrocketing in his chest. “You want that?” He closes his eyes, rubbing his face against Ilya’s while the other keeps fucking into him. Everything is so heightened right now. His sense of smell. His nerve endings. The delicious glide of his husband’s cock touching his inner walls. “You want that with me?”

All of a sudden, Shane’s entire world spins on its axis when Ilya picks him up and presses him hard against the bed, a hand curled around one of Shane’s knees as he shoves it up next to his ear, fucking into him deeply. “Yes, Shane. I am not speaking as your Alpha, or your owner, or even your Dom right now. I want so many kids with you. As many as you will allow. As much as we can while still having time for this right here. Because this will always be the most important thing to me. Me and you. God, you are everything to me, Shane. Fucking everything. I will say it as many times as I need to until you understand.”

Shane pulls him down for a desperate kiss with shaking hands on Ilya’s cheeks. “Fuck. Please. I love you so much. Fuck. I—I’m sorry I—”

Ilya just cuts him off with another kiss, and with the way Ilya’s fucking into him—with the way he’s somehow tonguing Shane into the next dimension—Shane’s words die right on his lips. He can’t even remember how to speak, much less how to form sentences out of the English language.

“After this summer, you’re mine forever,” Ilya groans, his arm flexing as he holds himself over Shane to fuck into him harder. “Our wedding. Our collaring—”

Shane doesn’t get to hear what he says after that because Ilya has adjusted his angle and is now somehow nudging his prostate just right with every thrust. Shane cries out and shuts his eyes, gripping onto Ilya for dear life as the other continues to pound into him. “Fuck. Ilya,” Shane moans.

“Shane,” Ilya gasps, the vein on his forehead prominent as he presses his lips together and starts to zero in on the task at hand, the same way he always does when he’s really close. “You want your Alpha’s knot, precious? Or do you just wanna be my good boy? What do you want, sweetheart? Anything you want,” he says breathlessly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Shane says shakily, his lower lip wobbling as he wraps his arms tightly around Ilya’s neck to keep him close. “Just want you. Just wanna be us.”

Ilya kisses him again, but they’re both just heavy-breathing into each other’s mouths as they get closer to the edge. “C’mon, baby. You gonna come for me?”

Shane nods fervently. “You feel so good.”

“You’re so good for me,” Ilya moans against his lips, kissing him once more.

Shane lets out an ah when he feels his climax start to build, and Ilya takes notice, keeping his rhythm up while he gets out a similar flurry of noises against Shane’s neck. They’re being loud, Shane realizes, but he doesn’t care. Right now, the only thing that matters is feeling every inch of Ilya. Committing this to memory in case doubts ever start to creep in. There’s something magical between them; Shane can feel it everywhere their bodies are touching.

“Fuck—”

“Ilya,” Shane whines, biting down hard on his neck when Ilya’s hips start to stutter as his own orgasm wracks through him. And most times, when Ilya makes him come, Shane is accustomed to seeing stars, but this time…this time he sees lightning bolts. “Oh, god. Fuck. Fuck, Ilya!” He screams, digging his nails into Ilya’s back and scraping them across his skin while scrambling for purchase.

He starts to feel Ilya’s warm cum inside of him. The babies that Ilya promised to give him one day. The invisible string that’s been tying the two of them together—probably since before they were even born. This thing between them has always been fated in the stars, Shane realizes, and it’s because of that that Ilya can turn his mind into sticky, gooey, love-sick mush.

“Shane,” Ilya mutters, still thrusting on autopilot even as the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through him, his skin flushed and sweaty. He’s looking Shane over like he’s trying to commit this to memory as well. Like Shane isn’t the only one who will walk out of this room a changed man. “Jesus fucking Christ, the way you’re clenching around me.” Ilya drops his head to Shane’s shoulder. “You want me dead. It is the only explanation that makes sense. You are trying to kill me, Hollander.”

Shane hisses and digs his nails a little further into Ilya’s back until Ilya is forced to look up at him. Then, Shane shoots him a pointed glare.

“Oh, now you are back to angry kitty with me? What? Because I called you Hollander? Would you prefer I call you Rozanov?” He suggests, raising his eyebrows, but it’s the perfect thing to say because it sends tingles all through Shane’s body.

He finds himself relaxing into the bed sheets beneath him, feeling his gaze go soft.

“Ah, you like that, don’t you?” Ilya hums knowingly, lowering himself down so he can card his fingers through the side of Shane’s hair while peering into his soul. “If you have my last name, everyone will know you are mine, yes? That you belong to me. That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Proposing to me.” Ilya digs his fingers into Shane’s side until he’s giggling and squirming away. “You do not care about being married so much as you care about getting my last name for your jersey. Is that right, котёнок?”

Shane hadn’t thought about that at all, really, but now that Ilya has put the image in his head, Shane wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it. Was that even allowed? For two players to have the same last name on the same team? Surely, that would get confusing for the announcers, right? Obviously, it’s never happened before, since two players have never gotten married. Shane’s heart speeds up at the thought of him and Ilya making history.

“Mm, you do like that,” Ilya notes with a knowing smirk. He watches him for a minute and then ducks down to kiss Shane’s nose. “My possessive kitten. Always with the claiming bites. Next time, the press will think I am dating a vampire.”

Shane whimpers pathetically at the callout to the pictures again because, fuck, even if he knew it was stupid, it still hurt.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I am evil cat Daddy again. Causing stress for my baby kitten.” Ilya shakes his head, but his expression is nothing but fond. “I am going to fix it. Don’t you worry.”

Shane believes him. So, he purrs and nuzzles into Ilya’s hand when prompted. He only cries pathetically for the two minutes it takes for Ilya to grab some stuff from the bathroom in order to clean Shane up, do his skincare for him, and help Shane brush his teeth. He wiggles happily when Ilya cleans the cum from his ass. He holds onto Ilya’s necklace and shuts his eyes when Ilya smears moisturizer all over his face. He grips Ilya’s thigh as he spits toothpaste into the cup held out for him, repeating the same steps with the mouthwash before showing off his pearly white fangs. And then, he cries some more once Ilya pulls away to put everything back and turn the lights off.

When Ilya gets back to bed, Shane latches onto him like a baby koala and starts licking Ilya’s face all over to scent and groom him with his minty toothpaste tongue. Luckily, Ilya just maneuvers them into the perfect spot, leaving Shane’s nest made up as is while navigating to a position that exposes Shane to his most favorite of the scented items laid out for him. Shane hums happily and climbs all over him to his heart’s desire, letting Ilya pet him and touch him aimlessly, each of them doing what they need to soothe themselves after this nightmarish day.

Eventually, the stress and exhaustion catch up to him, and Shane finds himself falling asleep just like that: on top of Ilya, his arms looped tightly around his neck, face buried in his chest as he lets out little kitten honk shoo breaths.

Unbeknownst to him, Ilya waits up until his breathing has evened out, until he’s sure Shane is asleep, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead as he hugs him close, with his fingers grazing soothingly down Shane’s back. “I will make it up to you, little prince. I swear it. You will get everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

In his sleep, Shane smiles and sinks closer. His body recognizes he’s home.

-

The next morning, they’re up bright and early to travel to New York. Ilya has a lot of misgivings about everything that’s gone down in the past few days, but the thing that he’s struggling with the most is the fact that the guys, for some reason, had the nerve to offer Shane weed. Knowing everything they know about him. Knowing that he’s prone to panic attacks, knowing that he was already in a rough place with the pictures and the loss against Boston, knowing that it was his first time smoking ever—how the fuck did they think that it was appropriate?

And the part that’s eating at Ilya the most, the part that’s ripping him up from the inside out, is that they should have fucking asked him. Giving Shane weed without his permission was just the cherry on top of it all, because did they really not understand this by now? Did he really need to spell it out for them? Shane was his. His to decide what to do with. His to provide for and entertain and fuck into oblivion. And his to give drugs to, if he damn well pleases, or not. Ilya was going to make sure they understood that going forward.

Shane is a smiley, smiley boy this morning, which Ilya is grateful for. He keeps looking over at Ilya with this lovestruck look in his eyes, and it makes Ilya melt with the heat of a thousand suns every single time. They’re in public, so they keep their hands to themselves, but they make up for it by not looking away from each other.

When they’re finally on the plane, Shane lets out the biggest sigh of relief when Ilya glides a hand over his thigh. He gets all languid and liquid like a cat, slinking closer into Ilya’s space until they’re touching more than they aren’t.

“You gonna be good for me the whole plane ride?” Ilya asks, just because he knows Shane’s in the type of headspace to eat that sort of thing up right now.

Shane nods quickly, gliding his cheek over Ilya’s big bicep. He looks like he’s awaiting his next instruction.

Ilya smiles and reaches for his backpack, pulling out his iPad. Shane presses his chin over his shoulder to watch while Ilya opens his latest app purchase: an app with TV channels for cats.

Shane’s eyes go wide when the swishing fish start up, the water rippling around them as they dive in the air or swim in schools. Different colors of pink, orange, yellow, blue. The visual changes about thirty seconds later to cartoon mice scurrying around, disappearing into their mouse holes, stealing food. Shane is mesmerized, so Ilya carefully maneuvers it into his lap so he can interact with it fully.

He stays close to Ilya’s space, still lying on his shoulder while he watches in rapt attention, pawing at the video with his hoodie sleeve every time a particularly eye-catching visual comes on screen. Ilya just watches him fondly, his fingers lightly brushing through Shane’s hair until the other starts to doze off in his arms. They’ve been in the air for thirty minutes when the seatbelt sign goes off.

Ilya takes a look around to see what state the rest of the boys are in, but they’re awake. They’re alert. With Shane knocked out, Ilya’s taking his chance. He slowly maneuvers Shane from his shoulder, sliding a hoodie under his head to keep Shane from startling awake, and then unbuckles his seatbelt to head to the front of the plane.

“Rozy!” Bood calls out as Ilya gets to the section where the majority of the guys are sitting.

Coach Wiebe is fast asleep in the back, a row or two down from Shane. Bood and Wyatt are up front with Troy, Harris, and Dykstra, while Holmberg, LaPointe, and Luca fill out some of the middle with the other rookies.

“You and Shane are cool now?” Wyatt questions. “I hate when mom and dad are fighting.”

The rest of the guys break into laughter at the joke, but their smiles die on their faces when they take one look at Ilya, his expression set in a hard line with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Who here offered Shane weed last night?” He questions, blue eyes searching across the group of them. “Who offered it to him? Who showed him how to smoke it? And who the fuck sat around watching this happen and thought it was a good idea to let it go on?” He raises his eyebrows when no one dares to speak up. “Hello? Am I speaking fucking Russian right now or am I speaking English?”

“It was my joint, Cap,” Dykstra offers weakly, raising his hand.

“I should have stopped him,” Harris sighs. “I knew it was a bad idea, Ilya. I should have jumped in before it got to that point, but I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”

“I showed him how,” Troy blurts, looking more guilty than anyone. “Fuck, fuck. Is he okay? Did we fuck up that badly?”

“You are lucky that I was close by and that Troy and Harris were able to get him somewhere safe in time, but that was a bad fucking call. On all of you,” he says, addressing the whole horde to make sure that each and every one of them is hearing him clearly. “You knew he had not tried weed before. You knew he was already upset over the pictures and the chirping, and you very well know how overwhelmed he can get sometimes. So, to give him a drug that is known to cause paranoia, on a night when I am already not with him…” Ilya scoffs and shakes his head in disappointment.

“Shit, Rozy. We thought it might help with his anxiety,” Bood shrugs sheepishly.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t really think anything of it. I figured…you know. He was safe with us,” Wyatt voices awkwardly.

“No,” Ilya shakes his head. “You should know better. Especially Troy and Harris.” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily before letting his arm drop. “Look, going forward, if you are thinking of offering Shane something, I would like to ask that you check in with me first. Or at least, encourage him to check in with me. I have not explained every aspect of our dynamic to you, and I do not wish to, but I think this is the perfect scenario to highlight why Shane and I have certain rules set in place.”

The guys are all staring at him, waiting for him to go on, so Ilya does, swallowing thickly.

“He told me he was staying in and going to bed early last night, but apparently, he couldn’t get to sleep, so he found you guys instead,” Ilya admits, running a hand through his curls. “He was emotionally vulnerable. He was not in the proper headspace to make a decision about drugs, and that is why our dynamic works the way it does. If I were there, he would have asked me, I would have said no, and maybe he would not have had a huge panic attack like he wound up having. But I was not there. Which is why I would like to set the expectation with you all going forward, because I am deeply frustrated by the lack of good judgment displayed yesterday evening. You are his teammates, and you are his friends, and I expect better from you.”

“I didn’t think it was my place to tell him no, but I will absolutely step in next time,” Harris is the first to offer, with Troy bobbing his head next to him. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“We tried to call you when things went downhill. We should have called you sooner, fuck.” Troy presses his face into his palms, and Ilya watches as Harris places a comforting hand on Troy’s back.

“Thank you,” Ilya offers softly, giving Harris a meaningful look that the other returns.

“We know better for next time,” Wyatt nods confidently, making eye contact with Ilya. “Thanks for giving us the heads up about your dynamic. And I agree that we could have exercised better judgment given everything we know.”

“Agreed,” Bood chimes in.

After everyone has voiced their understanding of the situation, Ilya licks over his lips. “I appreciate you all continuing to be so respectful and mature about this. I know I am asking for a lot with all the BDSM stuff. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you are open to learning and adjusting. I promise I would not ask if it weren’t important.”

“We get it, Ilya,” Bood laughs good-naturedly. “Shane’s your everything. You guys are crazy levels of obsessed with each other. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still going through a lot. If you’ve found a way to make that easier on yourselves, then you should do that. None of us care if you want to be in charge of your precious cat.”

Wyatt snorts loudly, and Ilya can’t help the way the corners of his mouth turn up in amusement. “Seriously, Roz, it’s fine. I mean, Jesus. What more could you guys possibly be hiding with this dynamic? I feel like we’ve covered all the bases at this point, no? What else is there?”

Ilya rolls his eyes. “I am sure you would all love to know more, so you have new Shane fantasies to jerk off to—”

“Ouch!” Holmberg cackles wildly, shoving LaPointe while Luca just turns red. “Good one, Rozy.”

“But I am trying to keep it on a need-to-know basis. I assumed ‘Do not give Shane weed for the first time while he is already freaking out’ was not something you needed to know, but here we are.”

“It’s, um. You guys have a lifestyle dynamic, though. Right?” Harris clarifies lightly.

“What’s that mean?” Troy frowns, eyebrows pressing together as he looks to Ilya.

Ilya sighs, casting a glance at everyone before deciding it is probably best to, at the very least, explain this distinction. “Lifestyle dynamic basically means we have rules even when we are outside of our negotiated scenes. It extends to a lot of different areas of our life. For us, it means Shane has to ask permission sometimes. Doing drugs would be one of those times.”

“Got it.” Wyatt looks around at all the boys. “From now on, everything with Hollzy goes through Roz first. Understood?”

“Aye, aye,” Holmberg agrees, giving Wyatt a little salute. And one by one, the rest of the guys follow his lead, each of them making a pact to put the control back in Ilya’s hands.

It quells the feeling of dread in his stomach for the first time in days.

When Ilya returns to his seat, he’s a million pounds lighter, and Shane is sleep-rumpled—rubbing his eyes, and letting out a tiny kitten yawn as Ilya slips into the warm spot next to him. “Morning, sleepy head. Did you get a nice cat nap in?”

Shane smiles and shuts his eyes once more, shoving the armrest away, before burrowing into Ilya’s chest the moment he’s close enough. “Why are you always sneaking off when I need your warmth?” He murmurs, sounding like he’s well on his way to kitty dreamland again.

“I was not sneaking off. I was just using the restroom,” Ilya appeases, petting over Shane’s back as relaxation drifts through his bones.

“Mm, sure you were,” Shane hums, and Ilya raises an eyebrow. A moment later, one of Shane’s brown eyes pops open. “Do I need your permission to sleep, too, or was it just the weed?”

Ilya’s eyes go wide in realization. “You…you heard?”

Shane’s lips curl as his eye snaps shut, but he rubs his cheek pointedly over Ilya’s shirt, almost like he’s giving his approval. Like he’s glad the boys know exactly who he belongs to. Like he can’t wait for the next instance to come up so they can completely bypass Shane in favor of asking Ilya first.

Ilya huffs a small laugh at how ridiculous Shane is. How perfect for each other they both are. How good it feels to have Shane willingly cuddle up into his arms after how badly last night could have gone.

The things Shane was saying…fuck. Ilya had been really scared for a minute. Scared that he had fucked things up for good this time. Scared that Shane had finally wised up and realized how much better he could do. How much better he deserved. How long would it be until he figured it out?

For now, though, Ilya lives to see another day. He pulls Shane close to his chest and rubs his lips against Shane’s soft hair. He closes his eyes and focuses on the soothing hum of Shane’s heartbeat, finds solace in the weight of the engagement ring hanging from his own neck. He’ll soak up every moment he can get of this, even if his time still feels limited, like no good thing can exist in Ilya’s life for too long without harm soon coming to follow.

-

Meanwhile, somewhere back in Ottawa…

“I understand you are with a new Dom.”

Ivan’s eyes twinkle mischievously as he fiddles with the straw in his drink. “I do not like to be tied down to just anyone. You must know this by now.”

“I think I know all about you and just how you like to be tied,” Sasha retorts, hooking his ankle around Ivan’s chair under the table to pull him closer. “You were always willing to give yourself over to me, at least. Is your new Dom not doing it for you?”

Ivan smirks. “He is nice.”

Sasha snorts, and Ivan raises an eyebrow. “Nice,” Sasha repeats. “Because those are qualities you look for in a Dom.”

“Rozy set us up,” Ivan explains with a shrug. “He is appropriate. Follows the rules.”

“You hate rules,” Sasha replies knowingly. “Spend enough time breaking them, don’t you?”

Ivan puffs a laugh, but it’s flirtatious. Always flirtatious around pretty boys who want to do vile things to him. “Rozy will not allow you back at Hush. That’s a rule that I know is rock solid.”

Sasha leans forward in interest. “Good thing I am in Ottawa right now. Not Montreal.”

“Yes, well. Montreal is still home for me, as I’m sure you very much know,” Ivan hums, taking a pointed sip of his drink, cheeks hollowed as he does so. “I am only in town temporarily to see friends.”

“You told me you were leaving days ago, and yet, here you are.” Sasha gestures to the dimly lit restaurant around them.

Ivan watches him for a moment, deliberation in his eyes, before finally, “You are bad news. You do not play safely, and that can be a big problem.”

“Maybe,” Sasha puffs a laugh. “But, you find me to be much more thrilling than whatever nice, rule-following Dom you are stuck with right now. You would not be here with me otherwise. You’d be back in Montreal with him, right? Getting praised or coddled or whatever it is Ilya and his pack of soft Doms enjoy. But you…” Sasha points at him, reaching for his own glass of amber liquid. “You like to be beaten within an inch of your life, don’t you? Cut with my sharp blade. Scared of what I might do to you. Wondering whether you will get aftercare, or if I will just leave you to suffer. Because you like that, too. Hm? The suffering. The anticipation.” Sasha lets out a taunting laugh. “You’re a slut for mistreatment, Ivan. Don’t sit here and lie to me. I have always seen right through your bullshit, and that is why I am the perfect Dom for you.”

Ivan swallows and tries not to let his emotions show on his face, tries to shield himself from Sasha’s almost superhuman-like ability to see right fucking through him. Being safe during play was important; Ivan knew that. He knew that rules were there for a reason. That safewords existed to help partners be exactly that—safe. But he couldn’t deny that there was a certain thrill to having his safeword ignored. To having Sasha take whatever the fuck he wanted from him with absolutely no remorse, no silver lining, no escape. Sasha had sliced him open and left him dazed and bleeding all over the floor, and Ivan…Ivan fucking liked it. He’d gone into subspace so hard he saw stars. Even as he struggled to make sense of reality. Even as he tended to the cuts for days after, risking infection and subdrop all because Sasha didn’t give a fuck, and Ivan was so self-destructive that he craved it for months after. He’s so self-destructive that he craves it even now.

“Well,” Sasha’s words cut through the silence. “If you are uninterested, I will not sit here and beg. I have other subs who can attend to my needs. But, you have always been my favorite object to use, and it is not hard to see that you are unsatisfied with your current arrangement. If you change your mind…” Sasha opens his wallet and tosses a business card at him uncaringly.

It nearly hits Ivan in the eye as he desperately reaches out to grab it. He feels a pit in the bottom of his stomach as Sasha signals the waiter over. They haven’t even ordered their food.

“Two checks, please,” Sasha requests, and when the waiter walks away, Ivan reaches out for Sasha’s arm.

“Wait—” Ivan says, because it seems like Sasha has already checked out of the conversation. Sasha offers him a bored look in exchange. “How much longer are you going to be in town?”

“I fly out tomorrow. Back to Dubai for a bit. But, I will be back here in two weeks, assuming business goes well.”

“Tonight, then,” Ivan decides before he can think any better of it. He can feel Sasha slipping through his fingertips, and the sub within him can’t help but want to please his Dom. He had been entangled non-exclusively with Sasha for the better part of a year before Cedric came into the picture, and so far, none of his experiences with other Doms had even remotely compared. “I need it. Seriously. I—” Ivan shuts his eyes tightly before taking a big breath and opening them once again. “I just need something. Anything.” He hadn’t gone to that super fuzzy place in as long as he could remember. The one that sometimes took days to properly come back from. He didn’t care if Sasha played unfairly. He just wanted to feel good.

Sasha raises an eyebrow at him, and for a second, Ivan thinks he’s going to say no. Just to fuck with his brain. Just to make him feel like shit after putting himself on the line. After begging in the middle of this crowded restaurant, where Sasha just made it clear they are not here together. But then, a slow smirk slides over Sasha’s features, his brown eyes grazing over Ivan in unhurried succession, and Ivan tries not to squirm under his intense stare.

“Only if you promise to scream.”

-

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed high Shane!!

I promise you I haven't forgotten about Ilya or Shane's therapy. More of that to come next chapter, as well as some wedding planning! And I am very happy to announce that we will have a new pet entering the villa soon (no, i'm not talking about troy barrett)

Let me know your thoughts, and thank you again for your support!

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

So far, wedding planning is exhausting, to say the least. Admittedly, Rose and his mom have been doing a lot of the legwork, and Shane cares about this wedding—he really does—but he’s quickly realizing it’s an exercise that’s intended to test one’s patience, and Shane doesn’t have a lot of it right now.

After their miraculous win in New York and with Marlow’s helpful tweet for timeline reference, the pictures of Ilya and the cat girl thankfully started to die down. What Shane failed to realize, however, was that going out to look at wedding venues with Rose and his mom would cause a massive media shit storm to follow.

The worst part of it all is that the venues have been absolutely terrible so far. They’d toured five on Monday, and by the end of it, Shane nearly wanted to tear his hair out. The only thing that would have made it even slightly better was if Ilya had been there, but since they couldn’t be seen in public like this together, on their next day off, Shane brings the next-best thing he can think of.

“I’ve never met your mom before,” Troy murmurs nervously as Shane leads him into their first venue of the day.

“She’s in crazy wedding mode,” Shane warns, and he wishes he was kidding, but his mom has been a lot ever since he and Ilya got engaged. She was taking her role as assistant planner a little too seriously, especially since she kept trying to undermine Shane’s actual wedding planner in favor of taking things on herself—like wedding venue appointments. His mom could be a little mistrustful when it came to the handling of Shane’s affairs, and with good reason; she’d been managing him for his entire career.

“So, what do you want me to do if she starts getting a little…?” Troy circles his finger near his head, making the sign for crazy.

“Nothing,” Shane sighs. “Rose is going to pull her away and distract her if I need a minute. You’re just here for moral support. I don’t know why I assumed the paparazzi wouldn’t show up just because we’re in Ottawa. They’re practically hounding her these days since she booked that new movie.”

“The one with Hugh Jackman?” Troy says excitedly, and Shane rolls his eyes.

“Yes, the one with Hugh Jackman. Now, pay attention,” Shane requests.

Troy straightens immediately and puts on his game face.

“We have to find the perfect venue. That’s the most important thing, but November is already almost half over, and the summer dates are going to book up fast. Okay? Which means we have to be fast, too. If Ilya and I don’t get married this summer, then we have to wait until next summer, which is a year and a half away. I can’t wait that long, Troy. I need to be married like yesterday,” Shane stresses.

But Troy just furrows his eyebrows. “Why?” He asks carefully. “I mean, I know you love him and everything, but what’s the big rush?”

Shane pauses in surprise at the question, since no one has ever asked him that before, but after taking a moment to think it over, the answer seems simple. “I’ve already spent ten years not being his. If things had been different, we probably would have gotten married years ago. I’m just making up for lost time.”

Troy is watching him carefully, and Shane swallows when he reaches out to squeeze his arm. “He’s not going to change his mind, you know? I mean, the thing with the girl last week seemed to really stress you out. I can’t imagine it’s easy having your partner’s past thrown in your face like that, but…Ilya’s serious about you. He’s not going anywhere, whether you guys are legally married or not.”

“It’s not about that,” Shane shakes his head, although he appreciates the sentiment. And the cat girl had been a rude wake-up call, but mostly, Shane has made his peace with it by now. “It’s…it’s about the plane crash,” he admits softly, letting his gaze drop to the ground. “It’s the fact that if I had been in Montreal, if something happened, no one would have told me. I’d probably be the last person to get a call if something went wrong. If he wasn’t okay.” Shane looks up at the ceiling to keep his eyes from watering. “I just…I need to have some tie to him. Something that’s undeniable if anything happens. Some…some proof of what we are to each other while we can’t be…you know,” Shane sighs. “What we are to each other.”

“Hey, that makes sense,” Troy nods, letting his grip slide down to Shane’s fingers this time. “I can see why having that security would make you feel safer. And you deserve to feel safe, Shane. In your relationship and everywhere else.”

Shane bites his lower lip to keep it from wobbling before pulling him into a hug, because fuck it, this is the whole reason why he brought Troy in the first place. For moral support because Shane was feeling irrationally emotional lately, like this wedding was dragging up all of his deepest, darkest fears, but also all of his utmost desires. The life he’d always dreamed of was just within reaching distance, and yet, he felt like he still had so many hoops to jump through in order to come out on the other side.

Before he can harp on it for too much longer, his mom and Rose step through the door to greet them, and Shane wipes his eyes as he quickly pulls away from Troy.

“Shane,” his mom looks him over in confusion, her eyebrows pressed together. “Is everything okay? Is it something with Dianne?”

“No, Mom.” Shane rolls his eyes while shooting Troy a pointed look. “It’s nothing with Dianne. She’s doing her job perfectly fine. She already checked in with the venue coordinators this morning.”

“Well,” Yuna lets out an exasperated sigh. “This is the problem with having a New York-based wedding planner. I mean, have you ever heard of such a thing? What kind of planner doesn’t want to be on-site with the client?”

Shane narrows his gaze at her because his mom knows damn well that Dianne had offered to fly in, but she insisted it wasn’t necessary. Still, it’s not worth the energy to get in an argument with her. Shane just wants to lock down a venue.

“Hi Rose,” Shane greets, smiling lightly at the look Rose gives him as she pulls him into a hug. “Thanks again for being here. I know it probably wasn’t easy getting the week off from shooting.”

Rose just waves him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Getting the week off shooting was easy. It’s my trainer that’s been on my ass,” she laughs. “She calls me like a million times a day to make sure I’m keeping up with my workouts. The prep for this role has just been, like, insane.”

“With Hugh Jackman, right?” Troy pipes in excitedly, and if he had a tail, Shane’s pretty sure it would be wagging right now. He shoves those thoughts aside for later.

“This is Troy Barrett, by the way. He’s my other winger,” Shane introduces. “Troy, this is Rose, and my mom.”

“Of course. I know Troy,” Rose grins, and Shane can see the glint in her eyes that shows just how much she knows. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Even better now that you guys are starting to win some hockey games,” Yuna laughs, offering her hand for Troy to shake.

“Mom,” Shane groans lightly.

“Shane mentioned you’re going to be in the wedding party,” Rose says excitedly.

“I—oh? Yeah? I wasn’t sure if it was, like, official yet,” Troy voices awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck as he glances between them.

“It’s official,” Rose laughs, while Shane nods in agreement. “Which is great because I’m going to need someone to bounce ideas off of for Shane’s bachelor party.”

“Really?” Troy perks up a little in response.

Shane stiffens at the mention of a bachelor party. Strippers. Booze. A wild night out. None of those seemed like activities he particularly wanted to partake in if Ilya wasn’t around. And he didn’t particularly want Ilya partaking in said activities without him around either. All in all, the bachelor parties were becoming a bit of a sore subject for him.

“Let’s just…focus on the venues for right now,” Shane says rigidly, trying not to let on how stressed out he is by this entire ordeal.

He doesn’t know how successful he is, though, because by the time they wrap up the third venue for the day, Shane starts to realize that he may actually be the problem. His mom hasn’t criticized anything once. Rose isn’t going into her super seller mode to try and convince everyone how great everything could be. And Troy is just along for the ride, content to go wherever he’s needed.

But all day, Shane has been a downright terror. He can’t picture him and Ilya tying the knot at any of these places, mostly because Ilya isn’t at any of these places. Ilya isn’t here. Because Ilya can’t be here. Which, unfortunately, means that Shane is in this alone, even if he’s surrounded by people who are trying to help.

“Hey,” Troy says to him quietly when they get to Shane’s car, to start driving to the fourth and second-to-last venue of the day. “Is everything alright? You’re being a little—”

“Yes,” Shane huffs out a breath, placing his hands on top of his head while he tries not to lose his mind. “I’m being a little—” he mimics Troy’s tone. “I’m out here trying to figure this all out by myself because my fiancé isn’t allowed to be seen with me.”

“I’m sure we could get Ilya on FaceTime and—”

“And, what?” Shane scoffs, throwing his hands in the air this time. “We just tell the venue coordinator, ‘Don’t mind Ilya Rozanov on FaceTime with us because he’s the groom’?”

“Shane,” Troy frowns, shifting uncomfortably.

“Jesus,” Shane sighs, pressing his hands over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m just—”

“You’re stressed. I get it. It’s fine,” Troy appeases, hesitantly placing a hand on Shane’s back. “But there are ways we can include Ilya without giving away that he’s the groom, okay? How about, at the next venue, I’ll take a video of the place while you guys are asking your questions. That way, we can send it to Ilya, and maybe he can text his thoughts. Or at the very least, you guys could look at it together when you get home,” Troy suggests. “Does that sound good?”

Shane sucks in a big inhale before letting all of the tension drain out of him. “I—yeah,” he agrees, nodding quickly while he tries to collect himself into something that looks a little less like a walking panic attack. “Fuck. That sounds really good,” he agrees, offering Troy his best apologetic look. “Thank you. For putting up with me today. I know this is a lot.”

Troy just smiles and shakes his head. “I’ve got your back, dude. Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you want me to be involved, you know? I…I’ve never been to a gay wedding before.”

“Yeah,” Shane breathes a laugh while putting his hands on his hips. “I’ve never been to a gay wedding either. Certainly didn’t think I’d ever be having one.”

“Well, fuck. I’m glad you are,” Troy grins at him, jerking his head in the direction of Shane’s car. “Should we get going? Your mom and Rose are going to start wondering where we are if we don’t get a move on. She kinda scares me, so. I really don’t want to get on her bad side.”

“Who? Rose?” Shane splutters in amusement as he gets into the driver’s seat.

“Jesus. No,” Troy laughs while shaking his head. “Your mom. She keeps trying to ask me about hockey. You’d think after your hat trick yesterday she’d be feeling pretty good about this season, but…” he trails, shaking his head. “Yuna is ruthless.”

Shane just smiles to himself as he backs out of the parking lot and gets them en route to their next destination. He may not have Ilya with him for part of this process, but all in all, he recognizes it could be a lot worse. He’s lucky to have the people he does on his side. He just needs to relax and trust that everything will work out the way it’s meant to.

-

“Sorry,” Ilya apologizes in Russian, smiling down at his phone as his eyes graze over the wedding venue video Troy has just sent him. He quickly silences the device and shoves it back into his pocket. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Is that from your partner?” Ekaterina, his new therapist, asks him. It’s taken a while to find someone who was well-versed in kink, as well as someone who spoke Russian, but Ilya thinks it’s worth it for how at ease he feels knowing he can express himself freely, and in his mother tongue, too.

“A friend of ours. He is, um. They are out looking at wedding venues,” Ilya explains, even though he feels a lump start to form in his throat as he does.

“That must be very tough. Planning a wedding with everything you have going on.”

“I hate that we cannot be seen together,” Ilya admits, thumbing at a loose string on the fabric of his jeans. “I should be with him for this. He should not have to do it alone.”

“Are you struggling for sentimental reasons? Or is this a control issue?” She asks bluntly, and Ilya likes that, too. She doesn’t beat around the bush. They covered a lot of ground in their first session two days ago, and she seems to be using all of that information to her advantage today.

“It is our wedding,” Ilya says simply. “I’m the groom, no? I should be involved. We should be experiencing this together.”

“Sure,” she agrees easily enough. “That is a valid feeling. But based on what you told me from our last session, you seem to struggle during times when your partner is off on his own. When he is making independent decisions. When there are variables that you are not around to control.” She pauses for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

Ilya furrows his eyebrows slightly, but he nods for her to go on.

“What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about him making a decision on his own without your input?”

Ilya licks over his lips in thought. The very first thing that comes to his mind is Shane’s surprise dabble with weed last week. “I guess...I guess I would be worried in case something goes wrong. If he needs me, and I’m not there. Something could happen to him. I mean, things have happened to him.”

“You are referring to his assault at the club,” she clarifies, and Ilya hadn’t been, but his mind sure travels there now. “He went without your permission, didn’t he? You associate the event with a lack of control. You feel that if you had been in charge of the decision, things would have gone differently?”

“I know they would have,” Ilya insists. “I would have told him it was a bad idea. Or…or maybe told him what people had been saying about him. Maybe he would have changed his mind. Maybe the whole thing could have been prevented.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, nodding imperceptibly. “Something bad could have gone wrong at a different time, though. Could it not? A time when he did have your permission. Where you knew exactly where he was. Could something bad still happen?”

“I— of course,” Ilya frowns, not understanding where she’s going with this. “Bad things can happen, but then, at least, I know where he is. If he’s checked in with me, then I at least have some idea of where his head’s at. And if he’s in a bad headspace, then I can try to predict his next move and, hopefully, intercept it.”

“Some of what you are saying is valid.” She taps her pen against her notebook thoughtfully. “If your rules have helped to keep your partner safe before, then they have merit, sure. But you cannot plan for every bad scenario, Ilya; more importantly, you cannot carry the burden of thinking it is your responsibility to. From what you’ve told me about your family, I am not surprised that you feel you must prepare for the worst. You have gone through a significant amount of loss for a man of your age, and it’s clear to me you have been through some traumatic events recently, as well. Adding the stress of a wedding—” She shakes her head, her Russian accent sharp as she curses. “You are in the eye of the storm.”

“I just…I feel like bad things happen to me. And to people around me,” Ilya admits quietly. “Isn’t it my responsibility to look out for the people I care for? Especially if I know I’m…” he pauses while trying to come up with the right verbiage. “I don’t know. Unlucky, maybe? Or just…destined for disaster,” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Let’s dig into that a bit more,” she decides, sharp eyes cataloguing him. “You have lost people. Starting with your mother when you were just a boy. I can see why that might take a large toll on you. Especially in the case of suicide. But you mentioned your mother suffered from depression.”

Ilya lets out a heavy sigh, pressing his hands over his face for a moment before letting them fall to his sides. “Yeah. She was…very sad. I think even as a child, I always knew that.”

“Depression can be deadly,” Ekaterina sympathizes. “It can also be genetic.”

Ilya’s eyebrows twitch together. “What do you mean by this?”

“It is passed down to family members,” she shrugs. “Your mother is not the only family member you lost, correct? Your father died of natural causes. But, your brother…”

“Died because I was stupid enough to offer him a never-ending supply of money for drugs,” Ilya mutters.

“Drug addicts will usually find a way no matter what,” she diverts. “But it was after the death of your father, no? After the loss of both parents?”

“I am not following,” Ilya says tiredly.

“Do you think it is possible your brother was coping with some depression of his own? That maybe the drugs were meant to be a distraction from the sadness? People make extreme choices when they are in mourning. When they feel helpless.”

“He was a fucking drug addict,” Ilya scoffs. “He was taking drugs long before my father died. Neglecting his family. Practically stealing from me, blackmailing me when he was desperate enough.”

“That must have put you in a difficult position,” she nods slowly. “What I am getting at is that your brother’s addiction may have been a side effect from something he genetically inherited. I am wondering if it is possible that you suffer from the same.”

“No,” Ilya shakes his head steadfastly. “I am not an addict.”

“No, but you are maybe depressed. And perhaps, you are learning to cope in similar ways. Ways that are not as destructive, but addictive, nonetheless,” she adds as an afterthought. “I am, of course, talking about your need for control.”

“I am not depressed,” Ilya lets out a surprised laugh. “I am the happiest I have ever been. I am planning a life with the man of my dreams. I am enjoying hockey more than I have in a while. I have a new family, new friends, a new business. I am thriving.”

“And yet, you feel a sense of helplessness when you are not in control,” she reasons. “It sounds like you’ve surrounded yourself in a way where you can always be in control. You are in control in your relationship and your dynamic. You are captain of your hockey team. You are the boss of your own business. These things make you feel safe because control can be emotionally regulating. There is nothing wrong with this,” she relents. “I think the issues arise when you can’t be in that role. This is where your depressive thoughts may become relevant. A feeling of hopelessness.”

Ilya just watches her for a minute because he doesn’t know what to say. Was that really depression? Feeling hopeless in times where he couldn’t control the outcome? Had Domming really become his addiction? His version of coping when things felt out of control?

“Let’s talk about the plane crash for a moment, and then I think we are done for the day.” She informs, glancing at her watch before settling back on Ilya. “You mentioned you were really shaken up by this experience, not because you feared for your own life, but because you felt like you could not protect your partner.”

Ilya swallows and shuts his eyes briefly. “He would not have been on that plane had it not been for me. It is my responsibility to keep him safe. If I cannot do that, then I have failed him. I have accepted the fate of the rest of my family, and maybe the four of us were doomed from the start, but I will not bring him down, too. I will not suck him into the never-ending pit of darkness that people around me fall prey to.”

“I think you are looking for meaning in tragedy that can often feel senseless,” she suggests instead. “It’s emotionally rational to deduce that you were the common denominator in all of those scenarios, especially if you feel you played a larger role in your brother’s death, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true or factual. You are trying to give yourself a solution to one of life’s biggest mysteries, which is: why do bad things happen? If you blame yourself, then it gives your mind a way to solve the problem. It makes you feel like you are in control of the situation again, even if that means shouldering the blame by accepting that you are responsible. It is almost like your mind is trying to protect you from an even more unbearable truth, which is that sometimes, these things happen for no reason at all. Which brings us back to that feeling of helplessness.”

Ilya tries to take in what she’s saying, tries to really absorb the words and hear them, but it’s hard to rationalize against the thoughts that have plagued him for years now in the face of someone he’s really only spent a few hours with. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t know the horrors he’s seen. Doesn’t really understand the role he played in Andrei’s death, or the death of Ilya’s sister-in-law and niece. He knows that this is what therapy is about. He knows he has to at least give this outside perspective a chance, but she can’t feel the darkness that lives inside him. She isn’t aware of how sure he is that certain things have stemmed from his doing. Maybe not the plane crash or his mother and father, but indisputably Shane’s assault. All of Shane’s bad experiences at the club. Shane’s quick and hasty departure from his team. Ilya was responsible for all of it. It would take a lot more than just two sessions with a near stranger to convince him otherwise.

-

By the time they get to the last venue, Shane is feeling a little more relaxed. He’s soothed by the fact that Troy is taking videos to send to Ilya while his mom and Rose ask the venue coordinator a million questions. He’s even grateful when his keychain gets a surprise buzz, like Ilya is thinking of him while off doing whatever errands he said he was going to run today. But it doesn’t change the fact that none of the venues have felt right so far, and in a town like Ottawa, they were quickly running out of options.

“Okay, Shane, remember this is one of the only venues still available with an indoor and outdoor space—" Rose starts.

“I’m sorry, but these example photos are terrible.” Yuna shakes her head. “The centerpieces are cheap—don’t even get me started on the flower arrangements—and the color scheme…” She makes a face.

“We just have to use our imagination,” Rose responds patiently, and Shane can tell that, despite being skeptical, his mom clearly trusts Rose’s authority on this type of thing. She was an A-list movie star, after all; it was clear she at least had some taste. “Obviously, Shane’s décor will be much more expensive and elaborate than any of the events they’ve held here before. The venue is only a frame. An outline. What we do with the space is entirely up to us.”

Yuna tips her head in consideration. “The views are certainly spectacular. The way that the property overlooks the sunset would be really nice for pictures. And I absolutely cannot stand the wood paneling on the ceilings from the last few venues. At least this event space has a more neutral setting.”

“Exactly,” Rose agrees. “Our color palette will really shine through with all the windows and natural light. Some of the other venues were overpowering. I mean, the greenhouse was beautiful, but—”

“It felt like a greenhouse,” Yuna nods, like she and Rose are sharing the same brainwaves right now. “Too much dirt. Too many plants. I could literally see the irrigation system. There’s no hiding that.”

“Absolutely. But here…” Rose gestures to the main room they’re standing in. “We have a blank canvas. We can make the space our own. Plus, then we can have the ceremony outside and still utilize it during cocktail hour while we prepare for everyone to move over for the reception. I’m also thinking of taking advantage of the beautiful night sky. Maybe some candles or fireworks before their big send-off?”

Yuna seems to be looking around the room, contemplating, before breaking into a slow smile as she glances over at Rose. “You know, I think I’m starting to be able to picture it. The other weddings really did not do this space justice. I think that, with the right elements, we could turn this into something really incredible.” Suddenly, she turns to look over at Shane. “Shane? What do you think?”

In all honesty, Shane isn’t sure. Part of him was hoping that he’d step into the right wedding venue and just know, but now, he’s starting to doubt that feeling will ever come. They’re running out of places. They’re running out of time. Shane has no fucking idea what to do.

“I think…I think it’s nicer than a lot of places we’ve seen,” Shane lets himself admit, because that much was at least true.

He didn’t like any of the venues that looked like barns. He hated the ones that were something else even more—like the Wellness Centre or the Garden Conservatory. The only other one he had felt even slightly drawn to was the Fairmont Chateau, but they didn’t have an outdoor space, and many of the ballrooms looked like they could double as conference rooms. In truth, this was the only space that Shane could even halfway picture him and Ilya getting married in. Even more so, it was in a remote enough location that they could ensure privacy, so no paparazzi could try to impede on their special day. “I don’t want to decide on anything until I show Ilya, though. It’s his wedding, too.”

Before Rose or Yuna can comment, the venue coordinator approaches them with a binder full of package options.

“Hello, how are we doing over here?” She asks, offering the group of them a warm smile. “I just wanted to remind you all that we have extremely limited availability, and the remainder of our dates are going fast, so if you would like to book, it’s best to get a deposit down immediately. We are already completely booked up for August and September.”

“What about July?” Yuna asks, pulling out her phone to check the calendar.

The woman flips through a few pages in her binder, tracing her finger down the page as she looks through their bookings. “I am seeing…just one weekend available in July. Actually,” she pauses, squinting down at the page. “I have a couple coming in to tour just after this who are hoping to nail down that date. I do have some availability in June, as well.”

“June is no good,” Yuna shakes her head. “He’ll be playing for the Stanley Cup in June, and we need to leave some time for recovery after. It would have to be July.”

Shane swallows at how confident she sounds that he’ll be playing for the Stanley Cup at all, like their team wasn’t still a way’s away from proving that they deserved to be in the running for something like that.

“As I said, my next appointment is very interested in our July opening. If you are hoping for that date, I would act fast, because it may be gone within the hour,” she says sympathetically.

“What do you think, Shane?” His mom asks him this time. “If you think this might be the place for you, it’s worth putting down a deposit, wouldn’t you say? Worst case, if your fiancé doesn’t like it, we’ll lose the deposit, but it’s better than losing out on the venue. I mean, we’ve toured a lot of places. There are only so many venues in Ottawa, right? Do you really think you’re going to find one you like more?”

Shane can’t argue with her logic, and the idea of this venue no longer being an option, when it’s the only one he’s even slightly connected to, feels like too big of a risk to take.

“Um. Okay. Let me just…let me make a call. At least to let my fiancé know,” Shane voices awkwardly, still hyper-aware of the venue coordinator hovering nearby.

He fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket and makes a hasty exit through one of the side doors for a bit of privacy as he escapes to the outdoor area of the venue. He then leans against the edge of the railing while dialing Ilya’s number, eyes raking over the expanse of trees that were already starting to change colors. By summertime, the leaves would grow back green again, but for now, the venue is a fall fortress of different shades of orange, red, and brown.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings, but Ilya doesn’t pick up. So, Shane dials him again. He sends a text. He leaves a voicemail, but still—nothing.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane curses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Ilya’s checkbook is burning a hole in his pocket, and even though Ilya had added him as an authorized user to the account, Shane still needed Ilya’s permission before spending money on anything related to the wedding. And Shane didn’t blame him for that rule. It was a way to ensure he was involved in the process even when he couldn’t be physically present. He’s on his third call to Ilya when he feels a presence appear beside him.

“Shane,” his mom says gently as she sidles up next to him. “If you’re not sure about this, we can keep looking. I just don’t want you to miss out if there is a chance this could be the one. It sounds like the couple coming in next are really interested in the July date, and with your schedule around the Finals, I don’t think it would be wise to hinge everything on the last weekend of June. You’re going to be exhausted.”

“Mom, I know,” Shane sighs, jabbing his finger into the call button once more. Why the fuck was Ilya so unreachable right now? “I just…I don’t feel comfortable putting the deposit down without Ilya’s okay. This is supposed to be our wedding. I don’t want to make choices without him just because he can’t be seen looking with us.”

Yuna nods. “I understand that, but right now, I think it’s more of ensuring that this is still an option for you two, rather than deciding full-stop that this will be the venue. I’m sure Ilya will understand. You can look at the venue together when you get home, and then, at least you’ll know that you have time to think it over. But these places are booking up fast, and I think her next appointment will be arriving any second now. We’ve already gone well over our thirty-minute time slot.”

“Fuck,” Shane curses, slamming his phone down on the balcony ledge while cupping his hands behind the back of his neck. “I can’t just…write a check without his permission. It’s…it’s his money.”

He doesn’t have to look up at his mom to hear the confusion in her voice. “So, use your own money. Or I can put down the deposit if that’s easier and you can pay me back—”

“No,” Shane says stiffly, while straightening back up. “No, just—”

Luckily, he doesn’t have to come up with a mom-friendly excuse for why he needs Ilya’s permission to spend any money—Shane’s, his mom’s, or otherwise—because, a moment later, his phone vibrates to life on the ledge next to him.

“Ilya,” Shane breathes a sigh of relief as he picks up, pressing the device close to his ear. “Thank god.”

“Is everything okay?” Ilya’s worried voice trickles through the receiver.

“Yes. I mean, yeah, everything’s fine,” Shane confirms before Ilya can get the wrong idea. “I just…I’m at one of the venues and…” he pauses, sighing. “I think it’s one of the better options. We all really like it, and I don’t want to decide anything without you, but they only have one more date available, and it’s about to book up. My mom and Rose think we should at least put down a deposit so we don’t lose the date, you know? Just in case this is the one.”

Shane can practically hear Ilya’s smile in his tone as he responds.

“That is very good news, sweetheart. I appreciate you wanting to run it by me, but I trust your judgement. If you think we should put down a deposit so we don’t risk losing the venue, then I agree, we should.”

Shane exhales gratefully. “Okay. Okay, so, um. Is it okay, then? If I…if I write them a check? It’s called Le Belvédère. The deposit is a flat rate of $5,000, and the packages range from $15,000 to $35,000, but I think we were looking at the $35,000 one.”

“Mm, you love spending all of my money, don’t you?” Ilya purrs into the phone, and Shane can’t deny the way it sends a shiver up his spine. “$35,000 just on the venue. You are lucky your fiancé is very, very rich. How much do you think this wedding is going to cost me, мой избалованный котёнок?”

“I, um—” Shane stutters, pulling on the neck of his collar as he tries to remember the other quotes his mom, Rose, and Dianne had pulled together. “I dunno. It depends on a lot of factors. But, like, the flowers could easily be $50,000 for really nice arrangements. Then, there’s the DJ, the photographer and videographer, our tuxes, the cake. Plus, Rose mentioned fireworks. I have to imagine that could be another couple thousand. Weddings can be really expensive, Ilya. Especially nice ones.”

“Избалованный. You are very избалованный. Do you know what this word means?”

Shane doesn’t, so he waits for Ilya’s translation.

“It means you are spoiled. Spoiled beyond belief. Spoiled rotten. My kitten thinks he can have everything under the sun for this wedding. One single day out of the rest of our lives, and yet, you want to spend all of my money on it.”

Shane swallows, eyebrows pinching together as he goes to defend himself because he thought they were on the same page. He thought Ilya wanted to spare no expense for their wedding. He thought it was going to be the day they remembered for the rest of forever, an extreme celebration of their love after going so many years without each other. They had each finally found their missing piece after what felt like a lifetime of yearning, but maybe Shane has gotten this all wrong. Maybe Ilya didn’t want a big, expensive wedding. Maybe he just wanted something low-key. Private. Just for them.

“You are so fucking delicious, I can’t stand you,” Ilya groans into the phone, and Shane lets out a surprised laugh at the sudden change of tune. “Yes, you have my permission to put down the $5,000 deposit. You are going to use my checkbook, hm?”

“Yes,” Shane assures him quickly. “Absolutely. I have it with me.”

“Good boy,” Ilya soothes. “I appreciate you checking in with me. You did such a good job asking for permission.”

“I—thanks,” Shane stutters out his response while he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected on the surface, but he knows his cheeks are flushed from the praise. “I didn’t want to decide on anything without getting your approval. I know, um. I know how much this means to you.”

“This wedding means the world to me, just like you do. I will spend any amount of money to make you happy, драгоценный. Thank you for indulging me with the financial aspect.”

“Yeah, well. I like it a lot, too,” Shane practically whispers into the phone, still hyper-aware of the fact that his mom is hovering over his shoulder. “Look, I’ve got to go give them this check before the other couple gets here, but, um. I’ll see you at home, okay? I love you.”

“Tell me in Russian,” Ilya requests.

Shane just rolls his eyes. “Я тебя люблю,” he says, because he can’t deny Ilya anything these days, and Ilya has become obsessed with hearing him say it after Shane copped up to sometimes teaching himself Russian in secret. His ‘punishment’ for that had been that Ilya would now be requesting a lot more Russian phrases from him since he felt the need to progress behind Ilya’s back. Not that Shane minded, though. Ilya’s reaction every time he pulled out a new word was reward enough.

“Я люблю тебя бесконечно,” Ilya replies, and Shane’s smile overtakes his face when he presses a kiss sound into the phone.

When Ilya finally hangs up, Shane turns to find his mom watching him with a contemplative expression.

“Is he giving you pushback on the cost of the wedding?” She asks him, tipping her head.

“What?” Shane frowns. “Mom, no.”

“Because I already told you, your father and I can chip in if necessary. I mean, I don’t know why money would be a problem—considering you both make plenty—but I know you took a pay cut, so if Ilya is having to shoulder too much responsibility here, just say the word.”

“Mom,” Shane cuts her off with a strong shake of his head. “I promise you that’s not what’s going on here. Ilya wants to pay for the wedding. He won’t accept any of your money, and neither will I. We’ve got it covered, okay?”

“Okay,” his mom replies, raising her eyebrows pointedly. “But, if he starts to give you pushback on the price of anything, I’m going to have to step in because some of these elements have a certain cost if you expect them to be of significant quality. And I refuse to let my only son get married with cheap flower arrangements and bad décor.”

“Trust me. It’s not going to be a problem,” Shane assures firmly. If anything, Ilya would probably get off on the fact that everyone in his wedding party seemed intent on them spending as much money as possible to make this day what they wanted it to be. “Let me just write the check so we can lock this place down, okay?”

And twenty minutes later, Shane has a venue booked for his and Ilya’s wedding. It wasn’t set in stone yet—he still wanted to show Ilya the videos and some of the Pinterest boards Rose had put together for them—but it was one step closer to them being married for real. July. That was only eight months away. He’s going to be Ilya’s husband in eight fucking months. It’s exciting more than it is scary.

“Holy shit,” Troy laughs once they’re back in Shane’s car.

Rose and his mom have disappeared together under the guise of a late lunch, but Shane highly suspects they’re just sneaking off to talk about more wedding plans behind his back. He doesn’t even particularly mind because they’ve both been a huge help so far. But his mom could be a little too nosy for her own good sometimes, and Shane really hoped his conversation with Ilya hadn’t set off any alarm bells in her head. The last thing he needed was her trying to pry information from Rose.

“Are you fucking stoked?”

When Shane glances over at Troy, he’s looking at him expectantly, like he’s waiting for some sort of huge reaction. “Stoked?” Shane questions in confusion.

“Yeah…” Troy trails, eyebrows pressing together. “About the wedding?”

“Oh,” Shane says as the realization hits him. “I mean, I still have to check with Ilya to make sure he likes the place. It was really just the deposit so we wouldn’t lose it to that other couple.”

Troy is still staring at him with wide, waiting eyes, though, so Shane lets out a huff and gives in to what he knows Troy wants.

“Yes, I’m fucking stoked about the wedding,” he concedes, but it’s worth it for the way Troy howls ridiculously out Shane’s car window. Shane grins wildly in return.

“Dude, July. That’s so fucking soon. Are you going to be able to get everything done in time?”

“I don’t know,” Shane admits honestly because their wedding checklist still seemed like a million miles long, and he was quickly learning that some wedding vendors booked up years in advance. They had struggled enough with trying to find a venue; now that they had one, the question remained whether they could achieve the rest of it. Shane feels like he’s in over his head.

“Hey, I’m sure you will,” Troy backtracks when he realizes the effect his words must have had on him. “Your mom and Rose are totally on top of it. Plus, I’m sure Ilya has some amazing ideas. I still can’t believe he designed that club all on his own.”

Shane smiles faintly at the mention of Drift. It’s been over a week since his playdate with Ivan, and he was already starting to miss his friend. But Ivan spent the majority of his time in Montreal, as did Rose, which meant that Shane still needed some more friends in Ottawa. Kink-adjacent friends, preferably. Maybe ones that wouldn’t mind running around and playing fetch. His gaze wanders over to Troy once again.

“How are things going with you and Harris?” Shane asks, realizing it’s been a while since he got any updates.

Troy blushes ridiculously and hides his face behind his Dalmatian-spotted nails.

“Hey, come on,” Shane begs, pulling at Troy’s arm. “I tell you everything, don’t I?”

“Oh, do you, really?” Troy counters, dropping his hands to raise his eyebrows at Shane. “How was your playdate with Ivan?” He asks tauntingly, and it’s Shane’s turn to flush this time. “Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

“Okay, I tell you basically everything. But some things are just…private, I don’t know. I don’t know if Ilya wants me, like, sharing stuff like that,” he admits lightly, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Well, he already told the whole team you guys have a lifestyle dynamic. Which, I looked up, by the way,” Troy declares, smirking. “And you’ve definitely been holding out on some things. Like when he didn’t want you to use your credit card for our nails.”

“Yeah, because it’s probably fucking weird to some people,” Shane scoffs, resting his elbows on the steering wheel. “Maybe I don’t want to scare off all my teammates by letting them know that Ilya and I do a lot of crazy shit. A lot of weird, and probably fucked up shit.”

Troy frowns slightly, like it hadn’t been his intention to pull this type of reaction. “Shane, I know the other guys are kind of, like…ignorant, or whatever, but I thought by now you knew that you could trust me. I’m…I’m like you. Or…I want to be, at least.” His eyebrows pinch together again.

Shane laughs dryly. “Jesus. Do you want to be like me? Really? Do you think it’s normal that Ilya and I have a human-sized cage in our house, and sometimes I just fucking nap in there, naked with a tail up my ass, like I’m an actual fucking animal? Is that something I should go around advertising? You think just because you might be into BDSM that you’d be cool with all of this other shit, but you don’t get it. You don’t get how fucking fucked up I am. You think I’m keeping this a secret because I’m trying to be elusive, but really, I’m keeping it a secret because it’s fucking insane. I’m a grown man with a whole room in my house designed for a cat. I mean, fuck,” Shane curses, letting his forehead drop to rest on top of his hands, which are still spread all over the steering wheel.

Troy’s quiet for a minute. Maybe he’s contemplating how he can get himself out of Shane’s car and back home without making a scene of it. Perhaps he’s trying to work out the logistics of what having a human-sized cage in one’s house, or a playroom made for a cat, actually means. Shane’s just trying to keep himself from imploding in front of one of his best friends, who he still feels like he has to hide from.

“Maybe you could…show me the room some time,” Troy suggests softly. “I mean, only if you’d be comfortable. And if Ilya would.” He pauses for a moment and then continues. “I might not fully understand, but that doesn’t mean that I think it’s weird. Or bad. Or wrong,” he adds carefully. “It doesn’t mean I’m not still going to think you’re the coolest guy I know. Or that I wouldn’t want to be friends with you.”

Shane’s going to fucking cry.

“Hey,” Troy murmurs when Shane’s back starts rising and falling with heavy breaths.

And then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and before Shane knows it, he’s having a full-on mental breakdown collapsing into Troy’s arms, sobbing into his neck while the stress of this week melts out of him. Every time he thinks he’s okay, it’s like he’s right back where he started. Scared, and anxious, and, over everything, insecure. Because, at the end of the day, this is all still so taboo, isn’t it? It was hard enough to expect people to accept him and Ilya as a couple, but this? This would never be right. This could never be okay. No mentally sane person would ever fucking choose this life. He doesn’t get why Troy seems so enthralled with it.

“Harris and I…we, um,” Troy mutters against his skin. “Well, we didn’t have sex fully, but um. After the club, we went back to his place, and we got each other off, and, uh…I don’t know. Afterwards, he was petting my hair. And not like a human, I mean— it was…it was like a dog. Like Ilya does to you. And I guess it wasn’t exactly the same, but it got me thinking, you know. How good it would feel to have someone be in charge like that. To…to tell me what to do, so I don’t have to worry as much, sometimes. I don’t think I would have been into it before—or maybe I wouldn’t have known to be into it before—but when I see what you and Ilya have it’s…” Troy cuts himself off with a jerky laugh. “It’s kind of everything I want, to be honest. Like, I’m sure some things I might not be into the same way you guys are, but…your dynamic. It’s so loving. It’s so…all-consuming. I think about you two a lot. How perfect you are together. How awesome it is that you guys found each other, that you’re into the same stuff, and that you love each other, maybe more than I’ve ever seen anyone be in love. It’s unconditional. Kinda like how people are about their pets.”

Shane doesn’t understand why he’s saying any of this. When he pulls back carefully, Troy is offering him a tentative smile, like he’s just shared something really raw and honest, and maybe he’s feeling vulnerable for having done so.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m really grateful to you for opening up to me about all of this. I don’t think I would have ever had the courage to make a move on Harris if I hadn’t seen how good you and Ilya are together. And I certainly don’t think I would have ever thought to try pet play if you didn’t make it seem so god damn awesome,” he grins slowly.

Shane rubs his fist over one of his teary, red eyes. “You only think it’s awesome because you don’t need it. If you felt like I do, then you wouldn’t think it’s awesome. There’s nothing awesome about needing to be a cat so you don’t completely go off the rails. It’s not, like…cool that if my fiancé isn’t within two feet of me, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I mean, fuck. Even now,” he gestures to himself—the fact that he’s falling apart in Troy’s arms. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

“Yeah, well. You’re navigating a lot. And it’s fucking stressful,” Troy tells him encouragingly. “You’re still in the closet—in like the most homophobic sport—and you’re engaged to your teammate, and you’re trying to secretly plan a fucking wedding on top of that. It doesn’t help that your best friend is also, like, a massive movie star, who happens to be your ex that gets chased around by paparazzi all the time,” he jokes, and it pulls a wet laugh from Shane. “Your life is complicated, dude. I seriously don’t think it’s the pet play that’s causing you problems.”

Shane sighs and drops his forehead to Troy’s shoulder once more because it feels nice to be comforted by someone other than Ilya, for once. It feels nice to just…hug a friend—someone who he knows is going to be there for him, who values him as a real person outside of hockey, and sex, and even being a cat. And then, because Troy knows him too well, he slips his fingers through the hair at the nape of Shane’s neck and gives him a nice, thorough petting. Shane almost starts crying again at how good it feels. He closes his eyes, burrows himself even further into the crook of Troy’s neck, and accepts for the millionth time this year that this is something he’s allowed to want. In fact, nearly every person in his life has accepted it by now. They’re not running. They’re not looking away. They’re actively indulging him in his utmost desires on a regular basis. So, why could Shane not do the same?

It’s been five minutes, maybe ten, when Troy tugs on his hair a bit to get him to look up.

“Hey,” he says, and his eyes are warm and smiley. “What’s something you’ve been wanting to do recently but you were too scared of what people might think?”

Shane scrunches his face up at the question, trying to find his way back from kitty head-scratch heaven in order to get his mind to conjure up thoughts that will hopefully form words.

“Like…I dunno,” Troy muses, trying to come up with an example once he realizes that Shane is struggling to understand what he’s asking. “Wearing cat ears in public,” he suggests at random, and oh, Shane understands now. He’s talking about pet things, specifically. Things that maybe shouldn’t be allowed under the context Shane wants them to be, but were maybe not really so incriminating when it actually came down to it.

“I—” Shane frowns, rubbing his two-day-old stubble against the fabric of Troy’s shirt just to feel the way his whiskers catch on the material. “My, um. My tattoo. Ilya and I, we…we kind of wanted to have matching ones. Since he got my collar, I was thinking I would get cat ears. Behind, um…behind my regular ears.” He shifts slightly and turns his head to show Troy the area he means. “But it would be weird, right? I mean, if anyone saw it.”

“But your hair would cover it a bit, wouldn’t it? They don’t have to be huge,” Troy reasons, looking Shane over in consideration. “And it’s just two triangles, basically. Tattoos usually have deeper meaning, yeah? No one would have to know what yours is.”

Shane swallows and chews on his lower lip in contemplation.

“I know Ilya would love it,” Troy smiles, carding his fingers through the side of Shane’s hair. “He’d probably go fucking feral if he saw it. I mean, how did you feel when he got his?”

God, Shane thinks to himself. He’d felt on top of the world when he first saw Ilya’s tattoo two weeks ago. He’d cried like a fucking baby and then came within an inch of his life when Ilya knotted him and tied them together like a real Alpha and omega. Like a real mated pairing. Even seeing the tattoo now could still send Shane into a frenzy. The fact that he and Ilya wore matching pendants for all of the world to see, if even most of them would be too stupid and blind to put it together. Because people were more likely to believe that he and Ilya had come together for a good cause rather than the fact that they were mind-numbingly in love. Maybe they always have been.

“Yeah,” Shane nods, letting his lips lift slightly at the corners. “I guess it just…seemed insane to get cat ears tattooed on me. Like it would make it more real or something.”

Troy lets out a surprised laugh at that, his fingers curling through Shane’s hair again in a way that makes Shane want to bask out in the sun and completely melt. “I’d say it’s pretty fucking real, dude. I get that you might still be struggling with it, or people’s perceptions of it, or whatever, but like…” he trails, looking Shane over. “Your DNA is 100% cat. Ilya knows it, I know it, even the boys know it. You’ve got a collar and a cage. You said you have a whole custom kitty playroom at your house. I’m not trying to overstep or anything, but I’d be willing to bet this is, like, not a phase. I’d say you’re pretty fucking in this. And I think Ilya’s pretty fucking in this with you, so like. Not much of a risk with the whole permanent thing. I mean, you’re going to be married soon enough. I think it’s safe to say you guys are in this pet/owner thing for the long haul.”

Shane huffs a laugh of his own as he indulges himself by rubbing his cheek over Troy’s shoulder. Because it feels really good to show affection that way. And he’s allowed to act how he wants around his friends and loved ones. Ilya had taught him that. Ilya had made certain it was possible, actually. Because he cared about Shane’s comfort more than anything in the world.

And even though Shane still has his moments of panic, or outbursts, or just extreme expressions of emotion in any and all capacities, it’s nothing compared to the rigid, structured, lonely life that he used to live before stumbling into Ilya’s club like a lost and hungry stray cat. Ilya had taken him in, had taught him what it was to be loved, and had shifted his entire life to make space for Shane in the process. He had done it without question or complaint; Shane feels like that now.

“Yeah, okay,” he says finally, picking his head up from Troy’s neck with a slow and wholehearted grin.

“Okay?” Troy raises his eyebrows animatedly, letting out a loud whoop when Shane nods in agreement. “Okay. Hell yeah! Maybe I’ll get something, too.”

“I—you wanna come with me?” Shane double-checks because he had hoped, of course, but he never wanted to assume. Troy probably had something better to do on his day off than spend the entire day with Shane. But apparently, Troy doesn’t. Apparently, Troy thinks it’s fucking awesome that Shane is a cat. And maybe…just maybe…Troy might be a dog, too. “I just, um. I gotta ask Ilya first.”

“But it’ll ruin the surprise,” Troy whines, pouting ridiculously.

And he has a point. But Shane can’t risk getting in trouble today. Especially when he’d already done so well by narrowly avoiding having to sign a check without his Dom’s permission. So, with that in mind, Shane does the next best thing he can think of.

“Hi, моя любовь. Are you on your way home yet? I was about to start on dinner.”

“Uh, not quite,” Shane replies, glancing over at Troy as he presses the phone closer to his ear. “I wanted to ask your permission about something.”

“Okay,” Ilya says slowly. “It is something about the wedding?”

“No, um. Actually, it’s something for you,” Shane corrects.

“Something for me?” Ilya asks, and he sounds happily surprised.

“Yeah,” Shane replies breathlessly, cause now Troy has gotten him all fired up and excited. “A surprise for you. I mean, it’s not completely a surprise. We’ve talked about it before, but um. I wanted to get permission to spend my money on it. Or…or it could be your money, if you want. I just didn’t want you to see the charge before I get home cause that might spoil it.”

“Hm,” Ilya hums into the receiver. “It is expensive?”

“Not that expensive.” Shane shakes his head. “I mean…maybe. But not in the way you might be thinking. It’s more of a gesture than an item.”

Ilya laughs, and Shane can’t help the way it sparks fireworks in his tummy. “You are so cute, god. I hate being away from you for a single second. My gorgeous boy spends all day planning our wedding, and now you want to surprise me with something? How lucky am I?”

“I dunno. Maybe, like, the luckiest?” Shane grins, snapping his fangs at Troy when the other tries to playfully poke at his cheek in impatience.

“Hey!” Troy shouts, laughing wildly as he pulls his hand back just in the nick of time.

“You are with someone right now?”

“Just Troy, still,” Shane replies, holding the phone out for a second so Troy can say hi.

“Hi, Ilya,” Troy sing-songs, loud enough so the other will be able to hear him. “Your kitty cat is being very well-behaved, except for he just tried to bite me.”

“Lies,” Shane declares into the phone as he pulls it back by his ear.

“Mm, sure. Cause you are not at all known for your biting,” Ilya replies, sarcastic yet fond.

“You love it,” Shane retorts, blushing when he gets an affirming sound in return. “So, what do you think? Can I do the thing I wanted to do?”

“If we have talked about it like you said, and you think I would approve, then yes. You have my full permission to spend your own money. It is probably a good idea so they do not cancel all your credit cards, anyway. Might be odd if Golden Boy is suddenly no longer spending money on expensive kitten diet and workout toys.”

“Hey,” Shane whines, his pout audible through the phone, but it just pulls another laugh from his Russian counterpart.

“I am going to make dinner, but you will be home in the next few hours, yes? I do not want you up too late tonight for our game against Philly tomorrow. I was hoping my kitten would score another hat trick.”

“Is that a challenge?” Shane grins widely.

“Perhaps we need to bring the clicker out on the ice to motivate you.”

Shane’s belly swirls with want.

“Ah. I will take that as a yes. I love you, okay? See you soon.”

“Love you,” Shane voices back, doing his best purr through the phone so Ilya can hear it.

Ilya gives him a growl in response before hanging up.

“Sickening,” Troy shakes his head, but he’s smiling like he couldn’t be happier for them, so Shane quickly leans over and bites his shoulder before pulling out of the parking lot while Troy looks for the nearest tattoo shop on his phone.

When they finally get there and walk inside, Shane is immediately intimidated. He isn’t sure what he expected a tattoo shop to look like, but the walls are blood red, and all the displayed art books are full of skulls and dragons breathing fire. He’s instantly questioning whether he’s made a mistake in coming here.

“Are you sure there weren’t any that looked a little less…scary?” He whispers to Troy, but before the other can respond, someone steps out to greet them.

“Do you have an appointment?” A gruff voice asks, and Shane nearly jumps in surprise.

“Hi! Um, nope. No appointment. We can come back later if it’s a bad time—”

“Are you getting something out of our books or do you need a custom piece?”

Again, Shane looks over at Troy for help, but his teammate appears just as much like a deer in headlights as Shane feels.

“Probably, um. Probably custom? I mean, it’s nothing complicated, but. I’m not sure it’s something you would have,” Shane voices unsurely.

The man just blinks, unimpressed with them, and turns over his shoulder. “Brooks!” He calls loudly, and a moment later, a second man appears.

Well, not a man, really. More of a boy. He looks younger than Shane, at least. Maybe even younger than Troy, but not by much. He’s tall, lanky, with tousled ginger hair that he shoves his fingers through, freckles, and piercing blue eyes that settle on the two of them. But what Shane can’t stop staring at is his tattoos. Where the guy who had greeted them looks like he very much belongs against a background full of dragons and skulls, this guy is much the opposite. He’s completely decked out in rainbow scribble tattoos—whimsical, random, some even downright silly, like the flurry of star and flower doodles all over his fingers and hands.

“Hey,” Brooks greets them, flashing his pearly whites in a grin, and upon closer inspection, Shane notices that two of his teeth have sparkly fangs positioned over them. Shane’s heart picks up in his chest. “You guys need a custom piece?” He asks, looking between Shane and Troy.

“He does,” Troy volunteers, nudging Shane forward.

Shane stumbles a bit before clearing his throat. “Me, yeah. I do,” he raises his hand awkwardly.

“Awesome! Do you wanna come with me into my studio, and I can draw something up for you?” He offers brightly, and Shane has no choice but to bob his head up and down. “Coolness. Let’s do it.”

Shane follows after him with Troy in tow, and when they get to Brooks’ station, Shane’s relieved to find that it looks much less intimidating than the rest of the shop. Mostly because Brooks’ station is pastel pink. Not just that, but his tattoo chair is leopard print, and he’s got a big poster of Hello Kitty holding a tattoo gun pasted over the wall. More importantly, his doodles look a lot more up Shane’s alley than the terrifying death décor he saw out in the lobby.

“Alright, so you can have a seat there,” Brooks says, patting the leopard tattoo chair for Shane as Brooks sinks into a hot pink stool next to it. He produces an iPad with a pencil stylus and then looks up at Shane. “So, what did you have in mind?” He asks, smiling at Shane before directing the same crinkly-eyed gaze to Troy, who slinks under the attention.

“Um,” Shane says nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “It might sound kind of weird, but I sort of want two triangles behind my ears. Like this,” he says, turning slightly to demonstrate the shape and area.

“Triangles, got it. That should be easy enough,” Brooks shrugs, scribbling something quickly on his iPad. “Like this?” He questions, turning the device around to show Shane.

“Uh,” Shane hesitates. “Not quite. I wanted to leave the bottom line off, like, so it’s just the pointed part,” he struggles to describe, well aware he’s leaving out key details to try and protect the true meaning behind this tattoo. Just in case this guy feels like leaking a story to the press later on. Not that he seemed like the type, but…Shane couldn’t be too careful these days.

“Oh,” Brooks laughs in realization, turning his iPad back around to make the change. “I see what you mean. Like cat ears.”

Shane feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach, but when Brooks shows him the edited sketch, it’s much closer to what Shane had in mind. “Yeah,” he breathes in relief, nodding at the correction. “Yeah. More like that.”

“Do you want me to add some additional line work to make them look more like cat ears?” He asks, eyebrows raised while he watches Shane’s reaction.

“Um,” Shane says, feeling panic rise in his chest. “I guess I don’t want it to look too much like cat ears, you know?”

“Oh,” Brooks replies in confusion. “That’s what it’s supposed to be, though, right?” He double-checks, and Shane huffs in mild frustration—not at Brooks, but mostly just at himself for not being able to explain this the way he wants to. “Look, if you’re interested in animal tattoos, I’ve got loads in my book,” Brooks offers, spinning in his chair to grab a big binder off the counter. “Kind of my specialty, actually,” he grins, flashing his sparkly fangs once more, and it’s then that Shane notices the fox tail keychain attached to his belt loop.

Brooks places the binder in Shane’s lap and leans over him to flip to the correct section.

“Hmm…oh, here we go!” He pauses his flipping, gesturing to the relevant tab. “These are all mine, so you’re welcome to anything in this book. I can still do something more custom if you want, but…” he trails, eyes flitting over the page. “Ah, here it is. Cat ears,” he says proudly, pointing to one section in the laminated binder.

Troy leans over Shane’s shoulder in interest, and when Shane places his hand down on the page to survey the options, Brooks immediately points at his fingers.

“Holy shit! Your nails are so cool.” His eyes light up in excitement. “Is that cheetah print or—”

“Leopard,” Shane fills in, flushing a bit under the attention. “It’s, um, just from Halloween, so…” he tries to play it off.

“Woah! You were a leopard for Halloween? That’s so sick,” Brooks declares, and his eyes drift for a moment before settling on Troy, whose hand is now resting on the back of Shane’s chair. “More spots! Oh my god. Dalmatian!”

Shane immediately shoots Troy a worried look, which the other returns with wide, panicked eyes like he has absolutely no idea what to say or do to help remediate the situation.

“Did you guys both go as animals? No way. That’s so fucking cool!” Brooks claps his hands delightedly. “Usually, I’m more of the fox variety, but I went as Nyan Cat for Halloween this year.” And as he smiles wider, Shane notices he has more gems scattered across his teeth. “Do you guys know what that is? It’s like this cat, but his body is a Pop-Tart, and he leaves this rainbow trail behind. It’s so cute. Oh my god, I have to show you the video, hold on.”

Before Shane knows what’s happening, Brooks is pulling up YouTube on his phone and ushering it in their faces. And it’s exactly like he says—a cartoon gray cat, with the body of a pink-sprinkled Pop-Tart, leaping across what looks to be a night sky, and leaving a rainbow trail in its wake. Shane can’t deny how much he loves it. He commits the name to memory so he can show Ilya later.

“See? I wanted to surprise my boyfriend, so I made the rainbow part out of flowy ribbons so they could, like, drag behind me. Fuck,” he frowns suddenly. “I wish I could show you, but I don’t have the pictures since they’re all on his phone. But it was really, really cool, trust me.”

“Boyfriend?” Shane asks, feeling himself relax a little at the revelation. “Wait—” he backtracks, eyebrows pinching together. “Fox?”

“Oh,” Brooks laughs, holding his arm out to show them the white fox tattooed across the span of his forearm. There’s a colorful galaxy behind it, a flurry of blue, purple, pink, and yellow stars scattered around, some casting light on the fox’s tail to make it look like a pastel array of sunset rainbow. “Yeah. Siberian Fox. It’s kind of my spirit animal,” he explains, holding up the fox-tail key chain clipped to his pants as proof. “My entire personality can pretty much be summed up between tattoos and foxes. Well, and my boyfriend,” he adds as an afterthought. “But I hate the idea of being defined by someone else. Even if he would beg to differ,” Brooks snorts.

“You guys are into pet play?” Troy feels the need to blurt out for some reason, and Shane urgently shoots him the most scathing glare possible. But Brooks just bursts into laughter.

 “Oh my god. You know about pet play? That’s so epic! No way! Are you guys, like, pets?” He asks, wide blue eyes searching between Troy and Shane, and Shane really wishes the ground would swallow him whole. “Wait…” he pauses, blinking like something has suddenly dawned on him. “Do you guys live around here? Are you…are you members of the club Drift? Cause, now that I think about it, I could have sworn I saw you guys there last weekend! Or…or maybe just someone who looks like you. But either way, you guys look super familiar.”

Troy starts choking on seemingly nothing (fucking air), so Shane gives him a hard—almost scolding—couple of slaps on the back to try and get him to calm down before he somehow alerts the entire nation of what he and Shane get up to in their free time. They’re hockey players in the NHL, for crying out loud. What happened to a little discretion?

“I, um—” Shane stutters, placing his hands over his face momentarily as he groans into them. “Fuck. Okay. You go to Drift?”

“Yeah.” Brooks presses his eyebrows together, like he doesn’t understand the reaction he’s getting from them. “Oh, sorry. Am I not supposed to tell people that? I know it’s like exclusive, or whatever, but I thought—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Shane cuts him off, while trying to get a handle on his quickly approaching panic attack. “You can tell people you go there. You’re just not really supposed to, like, out other people for being there,” he voices awkwardly. “It can be a really private thing, you know? And some people really value their privacy.”

Brooks’ face falls instantly. “Oh…oh, I’m sorry,” he apologizes again. “Fuck. That makes sense. I mean, I just figured since your nails and all, and the tattoo, but yeah. No. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

But he looks so wounded, almost like a kicked puppy, that Shane can’t help but try and rectify the situation. “No, I mean. It’s okay,” he relents, since he can’t stand to look at Brooks’ admonished, sad pet face any longer. “Actually, um,” Shane sighs, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment before looking at Brooks straight on. “My partner owns the place.”

“Fiancé,” Troy adds quickly, since Ilya and Shane were getting really good at programming it into the guys’ brains after they kept mistakenly referring to them as boyfriends.

“Wait, seriously?” Brooks’ eyes go huge again. “Your partner owns Drift?”

“Fiancé,” Troy chimes in once more, almost like he’s scared that Ilya is going to somehow jump through the walls and punish the group of them for not using his proper title.

“Yeah,” Shane nods, bracing himself for the big reveal. “He just opened Drift recently. He owns another club back in Montreal called Hush.”

If Brooks thinks any differently of him for being with a man, he certainly doesn’t show it on his face because he breaks into a big smile. Which, right. Clearly, Brooks had a boyfriend, too. But Shane wasn’t used to coming out to people, especially not strangers in the form of a tattoo artist he’s just met.

“Holy shit, that’s insane. Me and Grey totally just found out about Drift. The club is fucking gorgeous.” He flashes his shiny teeth again. “We stayed for a few drinks just to check it out, but I’m way more interested in the events! Do you know when the next one is happening? There’s like no information online.”

Shane huffs a laugh. “The partner events are invite-only. You have to be in good standing with the club for a while to start getting invited to those. But I think there’s going to be an Intro to BDSM demo night soon with different kinks spotlighted. That’s all I really know so far.”

“Harris and I can come to the partner events, though, right?” Troy asks lightly, looking over at Shane with his striking blue eyes.

“I mean, yeah. Of course,” Shane responds, his own eyes and expression softening. “The waiting period is mostly just for safety reasons. After what happened at the last club—” He cuts himself off, but not before Troy can furrow his eyebrows.

“Why? What happened at the last club?” He presses.

Shane just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important. The point is they restructured a lot of things after that. It’s much safer, but unfortunately, that also means there’s a waiting period to get invited to some of the more exclusive events.”

“So, why does he get special treatment?” Brooks pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He doesn’t,” Shane defends, but he realizes he’s tripping over his words at this point. “Look, none of this is even up to me. It’s Ilya’s club. He’s the one who has a say in the invites. You can ask him next time we’re there if you want.”

“Ilya’s not going to invite me and Harris?” Troy crosses his arms this time.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane throws his head back against the headrest of the chair. He just wants to get his fucking tattoo and go home so he can roll around and be a cat. “Like I said, you can ask Ilya. I had to get permission to even come here,” Shane reminds Troy, because certainly he hadn’t forgotten that Shane was not the one wearing the pants in the relationship. No, he was the one wearing the tail.

“Woah, is your Dom like super strict or something?” Brooks tips his head, and Shane’s face ticks as he realizes just how out of control this has gotten. Brooks must be able to tell that he’s uncomfortable by looking at him, however, because, a second later, he drops it. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that. Hey,” he diverts quickly. “Did you see anything you like in the book? I have more than just cat ears if you want to look at some other stuff, too. You are a cat, right? Er—” he cuts himself off again. “Sorry. You really don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s fine. I just—” Shane sighs. “I’m not exactly out about a lot of this stuff.”

“Out about pet play?” Brooks asks with wrinkled eyebrows.

“Out of the closet,” Shane clarifies. And, well, some people definitely knew that he was gay, but for the most part, the general public hadn’t clued into that fact yet, and Shane preferred to keep it that way. “My job is kind of public, so. Whatever I get, it has to be discreet.”

Brooks just watches him for a moment, mouth twisted slightly in thought as he taps his chin in consideration. “Hmm…oh!” He exclaims, his mouth splitting into a grin as he steps forward to flip a few pages in the binder. “Here! What about this? These are my absolute most discreet pet designs.”

At first, Shane doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. He doesn’t have his glasses on, so to him, the ‘design’ that Brooks is pointing to just looks like a couple of dots on paper. But when he leans closer, he realizes that the dots are actually tiny paw prints. They’re microscopic. Almost the same size and circumference as each one of Shane’s freckles. And when Brooks speaks again, it seems that that is exactly what they are.

“Paw print freckles! Inspired by my own freckles,” he giggles, turning his face left and right to demonstrate the array of regular human freckles that span the majority of his skin. “Actually, it was Grey’s idea. Grey’s my boyfriend, by the way. And my Dom. I was stuck trying to come up with ideas for the book, and then he reminded me about this one time I drew star freckles on him! So, I decided to make paw print freckles. I think they’re so awesome, but no one’s actually asked for them yet. Come to think of it…you could be the first,” he says toothily.

“Ilya would really like those,” Troy murmurs next to him, like he thinks Shane needs to hear the encouragement right now, especially after his mini freak-out in the car just thirty minutes ago.

Shane closes his eyes for a moment because this, like everything, is a lot. The sea is rising again. He’s dipping below the tide, getting caught up in the choppy waves. He has trouble swimming these days without his lifeboat. Maybe he used to have more strength.

He definitely has more support now, though. Ilya never strays far, and Troy is becoming more important to him with each passing day. More essential. It’s not just that, though. It’s all of the guys. It’s Rose. It’s Ivan. And now, possibly a new friend in Brooks. Shane’s never met another pet before. Not a real one. Not like Brooks seems to be.

Shane opens his eyes to look at him again. He’s standing there, looking confident, a friendly glint in his sparkly, fanged smile. A light in his eyes that mimics the light Shane feels like he’s been after for his whole life now. But maybe this is a door. Maybe Brooks is a key. Maybe the light is just within reach, and all Shane really has to do is let it in.

“I want the paw print freckles,” he says decisively, because he does. And Ilya would really like them. And now Shane is starting to wonder if it’s the hiding that’s been doing him in the most. He used to live under much worse conditions. A time where he didn’t even let himself admit he was gay as a fucking penguin. Cause, apparently, penguins could be gay—according to Ilya. But he couldn’t go back to living like a machine, and he was getting real fucking sick of cosplaying as a straight man who wasn’t devastatingly in love with his Captain. “I want the kitten ears, too,” Shane adds. “Maybe we could add a tiny bit of detailing like you had on some of the ones you showed me,” he suggests, flipping back to the correct page. “Just so they look like real cat ears and not triangles.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Brooks agrees instantly. “I’m going to make it so awesome for you, you have no idea. Let me show you what I’m thinking.”

After they finalize the tattoo stencil, Brooks mentions he’s going to have to shave a small amount of hair behind Shane’s ears just to make sure the tattoo has a fully clean surface for the stencil to adhere to properly. Shane knows it’s something he should check in with Ilya about, but he really doesn’t want to risk ruining the surprise, so he breaks the rule and risks the punishment. He was maybe starting to like those a little bit, anyway. After the cock cage…yeah. Well, Ilya always had the best ideas. Shane just wants to devote his entire body to him.

Troy holds his hand as the needle buzzes to life, and Shane braces himself, closing his eyes and scrunching his face up when Brooks goes in for the kill. It’s not so terrible at first. It feels like someone’s scraping a needle against his skin—a sharp cat scratch, probably similar to what Ilya feels every time he fucks him so good that Shane rips up his skin until it’s raw and bleeding. Shane wishes Ilya were here to hold his hand instead. He’s getting markings for his fucking owner.

He sucks in a sharp gasp when Brooks pulls away to wipe over his sensitive skin, because when the gun comes back, Shane realizes how loud it is from the position against his ear. The vibrations are ricocheting against his inner eardrum. It’s getting uncomfortable. He grits his teeth and digs his claws into Troy’s skin.

“Ouch, kitty. Your claws are sharp,” Troy mutters, and Shane fights to keep from yowling at him because he’s not in the fucking mood.

By the time Brooks is finishing up the second ear, Shane is way too overstimulated. His brain feels like it’s humming in a way that makes him want to empty out his skull, pour the remnants all over the floor until his head is good and vacant. He flinches when Troy touches his shoulder.

“Shane,” Troy tries again, and Shane realizes he’s been trying to get his attention. “You good, man? You still wanna do your paw prints today? Brooks said you need to take your shirt off, but you look like you still need a minute,” he says, looking Shane over in mild concern.

Shane wiggles his jaw to try and get the feeling from his ears to clear. “Let’s just get it over with,” he shakes his head, sitting up to rid himself of the garment.

“Sorry,” Brooks winces. “I did warn you the ones behind the ear can be pretty gnarly for some people. It’s totally cool if you need a breather. This is your first tattoo, right?”

“Yeah,” Shane lets out, gripping onto the tattoo chair to keep his head from spinning. He’s going to need to take some pain medicine when he gets home. He can already feel a headache forming.

“Woah, two in one session. You’re a natural! You’re exactly like me when I first started.”

Shane doubts that. But the next tattoo is easier, at least. It’s on his shoulder. Right next to the scar he got during a nasty hockey scuffle when he was a kid. He gets three little paw prints because getting just one or two doesn’t feel right. Then, he remembers that he and Ilya have been together for four months, so he asks Brooks to add just one more. When he shows him in the mirror, Shane can’t help the way his smile overtakes his face. They’re tiny. They look like freckles, but they’re paw prints. They’re crawling up his shoulder, and they blend in right along with the rest of his regular freckles. Shane bites his lip to keep it from shaking.

“It’s so good,” Shane laughs finally.

Brooks tips the mirror to show him the ears next. And, fuck. Shane…Shane’s a real fucking cat. Maybe he’s always been a real cat, but now he had the ears to prove it. They fit right behind his own, right in the spot where Ilya’s fingers would frequently glide over on their way to Shane’s hair. The place where Ilya’s tattoo of Shane’s collar would now align perfectly with Shane’s new kitten ears. A match made in heaven and in permanent ink. There was no going back.

“Ilya’s going to be so happy,” he voices, still amazed at how delicate the ink looks on his skin. Shane was so happy. He feels a thrill in his belly as Brooks wraps up his new tattoos and explains the care instructions. Shane’s eyes go half-lidded at the thought of Ilya doing all of it for him.

By the time he gets home, he’s half in subspace. The adrenaline of the tattoo has worn off, and in its wake, Shane is left feeling sensitive and tired. It’s been a long, eventful day without his comfort person. All he wants is to curl up with Ilya.

When he steps into the house, the kitchen smells delicious. The lights in the living room are dimmed, and Shane notices Ilya has lit a row of candles across the flaming fireplace. It makes the whole place seem cozier than usual.

And then he sees Ilya, in sweatpants and a tight tank top, plating up two bowls of miso-glazed salmon, pickled cucumbers and radishes, zucchini noodles, edamame, fresh ginger, and a small portion of soba noodles. It’s a Shane meal if he’s ever seen one. He immediately walks over to wrap his arms around Ilya’s waist and bury his face in Ilya’s back.

“Oh, hi, сладость. You are finally home. Just in time for dinner, too.” But when Shane still hasn’t said anything, Ilya turns slightly to look down at him. “Is everything okay, моя любовь?”

Shane lets out a humph sound into Ilya’s shirt, his eyes closed as he takes in the scent of his comfort person. He feels himself relax even further as Ilya twists to put the final touches on their food, Shane moving in tandem with him.

“What is with you, baby?” Ilya laughs, turning in Shane’s grip this time to regard him fully. “You are that tired from your big day, or what? You just missed me? Is that it?”

Shane tips his head up until he can see Ilya’s face.

Ilya’s eyebrows furrow. “Shane?” He says softly, reaching out to rub his thumb over Shane’s jawline. “Are you okay?”

Shane nods against Ilya’s abdomen, well aware that his eyes are a little gooey right now, a little hazy, a little blown out. He’s had a big, long day, indeed, but most of it was spent putting effort into his and Ilya’s love. Loud declarations of their love, in fact. So much so that Shane feels like he’s overflowing with it. His heart thumps loud in his chest.

“You are a bit down,” he notices, eyes flickering over Shane in quick succession. “Have you been like this for long?”

Shane blinks twice for no, something they’ve established recently to help expand their language when Shane is feeling nonverbal. Because shaking his head up or down could sometimes be a lot, and today, with his fresh tattoos still stinging behind his ears, less movement feels like the easier choice.

He sighs when Ilya slips a hand through his hair, sinking further into his touch, but he jerks back slightly when he feels Ilya’s fingers dipping too close to his new tattoos. Ilya’s hands freeze on his skin.

“Sweetheart?” Ilya says carefully. “I need you to tell me what is going on right now. You’re scaring me.”

Shane huffs a laugh into Ilya’s torso and forces himself to rise up, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s neck to press their foreheads together. “S’just my surprise for you,” Shane whispers, blinking slowly as his brown eyes meet Ilya’s blue. “Can I have some Tylenol, please?”

“Of course, you can,” Ilya agrees easily, his eyebrows still pinched together in concern. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?”

“The Tylenol, please,” Shane requests again, and Ilya twists to reach for the bottle in one of the top cabinets.

Ilya retrieves two pills, handing them off to Shane before reaching for one of the prepared bowls of miso soup. “Take a sip of this. I do not have a glass of water over here,” he says softly, holding the edge of the bowl up to Shane’s waiting lips.

Miso soup has too much sodium, Shane thinks distantly, but he can’t deny how nice the warm liquid feels traveling down his throat and settling in his belly. He feels better already knowing that relief is on the way. Shane smiles and presses his face to Ilya’s chest once more after the pills have gone down.

“Yummy?” Ilya asks, still clearly trying to get some kind of response or explanation out of him. Shane can hear the worry in his voice, but it just feels too good to latch onto Ilya right now. Especially after coming in from the cold. Their house is warm from the lit fire in the living room. Shane wants to curl up in front of it. “Do I get to know the surprise, my sweet boy? I am a little concerned if it is causing you pain and sending you half into subspace when I am not there to take care of you.”

-

“Troy was with me,” Shane says, like that will assure Ilya in some way. Like Troy and Shane weren’t up to all sorts of trouble pretty much at all times.

“Yes, I know,” Ilya appeases, a small smile crossing his lips as he rubs over Shane’s lower back. “Can you tell me the surprise now? I am very excited to know what it is.”

Shane just smiles dazedly back at him and slowly turns around.

For a second, Ilya has no idea what it means. Maybe Shane wants to be held right now, wants Ilya to hug him real close from behind and press kisses across what must be a sore neck, possibly from the day he’s had or maybe even from their last home game. Ilya leans in closer to do exactly that when he sees them. Two kitten ears stamped proudly on the skin behind Shane’s regular ones.

“Малыш,” Ilya whispers in awe, his fingers coming up to graze over the second-skin wrapping, to trace the ink in front of his eyes and make sure it’s real. Shane’s declaration to him, to them and their future together because, apparently, the wedding couldn’t come soon enough. They were bursting with the need to find ways to scream it to the world. “God, it is so perfect. I love it so much. My sweet, sweet, sweet kitten.” He collapses forward to hug Shane tightly around his shoulders, pressing his lips in a flurry across Shane’s neck. “You are mine forever, and ever. Fuck,” Ilya laughs wetly, pulling back again to look at the new set of ears. Shane was the best human, pet, fiancé, teammate—you name it. There was no one better in this world than Shane.

“Careful,” Shane says weakly, pushing Ilya’s hand off from where it’s resting on his shoulder.

Ilya frowns. Maybe Shane did still have an injury on top of getting the tattoo. Maybe it was his shoulder that was hurting him. “You are sore from the game, my love? Do you need some ice for your shoulder?”

“No. I mean, well, sort of,” Shane backtracks. “I just—” He sighs like he’s growing frustrated with having to voice his thoughts, and then before Ilya knows it, Shane is pulling his shirt off over his head.

Ilya watches him in confusion, still trying to understand why Shane is acting so odd right now. He’s fucking beautiful with his shirt off, though, and Ilya has been missing him terribly all day. If Shane was sore, then maybe Ilya would give him a nice, long, tender massage to ease his aching muscles.

Ilya steps forward and kisses the back of Shane’s neck, smiling when he gets a whiff of Shane’s (his) shampoo. He glides his hands over Shane’s hips and presses his lips across the skin lining the way to Shane’s shoulder.

“No, Ilya,” Shane utters, even as he sinks into the touch. “Look.”

And when Ilya looks up, his eyes catch on the glint of another tattoo wrapping, this one on Shane’s shoulder right next to his scar. Ilya squints, trying to see through the slightly blurry visual of the second-skin tape, but all he can make out are a couple of tiny black smudges.

“I do not understand. Did you get another tattoo?” Ilya asks uncertainly. “It is very hard to see if you did. Is very tiny.”

“Yeah,” Shane says quietly. “Paw print freckles. They’re really small.”

Ilya thinks his heart is going to explode. He steps forward to wrap his arms around Shane’s middle and squeeze him as tight as possible, burying his face into Shane’s neck. “Paw print freckles, are you freaking kidding me?” Ilya mutters out, shaking Shane in his arms, which pulls a flurry of giggles from the other. “Oh my god. You are the cutest thing alive. I think you are trying to kill me with your cuteness.” He presses a layer of smacking kisses all over Shane’s neck, making exaggerated gobble noises like he’s trying to eat him.

“Four paw prints. Four months we’ve been together,” Shane expresses.

Ilya’s breath catches in his throat. “It is almost five,” he feels the need to correct, because he was counting down the days until their six-month anniversary. Any day was reason enough to celebrate Shane, but six months seemed like the first socially acceptable milestone to really go all out. He would have to plan something special for that.

“Well, then I’ll go get a fifth,” Shane surprises him by saying, spinning in his arms as he pulls a laugh out of Ilya.

“Oh, I see. You are trying to compete with me now by getting more tattoos for our dynamic,” Ilya teases, letting his hands slip down to cup Shane’s ass.

“No,” Shane flushes. Apparently, he’s not being silly and playful right now. He’s being shy and sweet. He’s had a stressful day, Ilya can tell. “I just went to get the ears, but, um…then I met someone. Someone who goes to Drift, actually. It was…um…another pet.”

Ilya raises his eyebrows. “Another pet? Who goes to Drift? You met a pet at the tattoo shop?” Ilya tips his head in confusion.

“Yeah, he was my tattoo artist,” Shane exhales lightly. “He had this whole book of pet tattoos. So, I saw the paw print freckles, and I really liked them. I thought you might like them, too.”

“I love them so much. I love you so much. I cannot believe you just ran into a pet at the tattoo shop,” Ilya says, shaking his head delightedly as he cups Shane’s jaw. “You are just something else, aren’t you?” He hums, tracing over Shane’s lower lip with his thumb as he gazes into his eyes. “Let me feed you some dinner, and you can tell me all about this pet, alright?”

Shane’s eyes twinkle back at him in agreement.

Ilya is grateful that Shane doesn’t complain about the sodium in the miso soup or the fact that Ilya wants to eat on the couch. Shane was letting Ilya get away with a lot right now, which was probably a testament to just how worn out he was. Still, Ilya can’t complain since it gives him an excuse to feed Shane, the other curled up under his arm with his legs over Ilya’s lap as Ilya lovingly offers him one spoonful at a time.

They spend the next hour like that, exchanging sweet bites of Ilya’s home-cooked meal while the TV plays on low volume in the background. Shane shuts his eyes sometimes, and Ilya will lean in to press kisses into his hair. He can’t imagine what this season would have been like not having him here. It’s a comfort he’s blessed not to know.

Shane’s still shirtless, so once he starts turning away from Ilya’s offered bites of food, Ilya puts their plates aside and starts rubbing his shoulders, being mindful of the new tattoos and their wrappings. Shane purrs like a human-kitten hybrid and leans into the touch, Ilya maneuvering Shane to sit in front of him so he can have full reign of Shane’s back, Ilya’s legs bracketing him in on either side. And then, he gets to work massaging him. He digs his fingers into Shane’s aching muscles, smiling when he gets pleased little moans out of the other, his kitten relaxing into his grip.

He massages Shane’s shoulders, his neck, all the way down to the center of his back, and then lower. Shane’s hips. Each vertebra of his spine. Shane’s tailbone. Every tendon, every muscle, every cell of Shane’s precious skin until his head falls back against Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya smiles and wraps his arms around him, massaging Shane’s chest this time. His glorious pectoral muscles. His abdomen. His biceps, and triceps, all the way down to the muscles in his forearms, his hands. He presses kisses down Shane’s neck as he does so, worshipping every inch of the sleepy creature he’s been lucky enough to inherit. He kisses the freckled cheek closest to him. Shane’s nose. Then, his mouth, until Shane is waiting for the next kiss with his lips parted, eyes closed.

“If you are tired, we should go to sleep, my love,” Ilya whispers against his parted lips, even as he grants him another soft kiss.

Shane whines lightly, fingers searching for Ilya’s from where he’s still got his arms wrapped around Shane’s waist.

Ilya interlinks their fingers at the silent request and pulls Shane closer to his chest.

“Didn’t get to see you all day,” Shane mumbles, pushing his head up against Ilya’s face needily.

“I know, baby. But you will see me all day tomorrow. And the day after that. And all the days for the rest of forever, hm?” Ilya appeases, turning his chin so his scruff glides across Shane’s neck. “You have had a very long day.”

“I wanted to show you the wedding venue,” Shane frowns, shifting slightly so he can look up at Ilya. “I didn’t get to tell you about the other pet.”

Ilya’s lips curl at the sides. He relinquishes one arm from around Shane’s waist to brush some of Shane’s hair out of his eyes with his fingers. “You want to tell me so many things, and yet, you love to be quiet for me. I imagine this can feel very conflicting for your beautiful kitten brain.”

Shane huffs and twists in Ilya’s grasp fully until he’s able to wind both arms around Ilya’s neck, crawling his way into Ilya’s lap.

Ilya would never complain about a lap full of kitten, though, so he immediately adjusts to account for the difference. “You can tell me whatever you want, baby angel. I just do not want you to be exhausted for our game tomorrow.”

“I met a fox,” Shane says, and Ilya tries not to be endeared by the fact that that’s the first and most pressing topic on his mind.

“A fox who goes to Drift? Oh, that is very exciting. We have not been around many pets before, have we?”

“He’s fully a fox,” Shane agrees. “Like way more than Ivan. His name is Brooks. And, um. He has a Dom called Grey. He was asking about the partner events. If they could be invited. Actually, Troy wanted to know for him and Harris, too.”

“Mm, and what did you say to them?” Ilya’s pleased when pink blooms across Shane’s freckled cheeks.

“I said it wasn’t up to me,” Shane mumbles, ducking down for a kiss that Ilya easily grants him. “But he seems really cool. And he goes to Drift, you know?”

Ilya knows exactly what Shane is getting at. Brooks is a potential pet friend for him—someone who Shane could be himself around, yes, but also maybe someone Shane could learn from. When it really came down to it, he and Ilya were both still pretty new to pet play, and so far, they had yet to run into any actual pets. Ones that identified the way Shane did. Ilya was sure he could stand to learn a lot from the Dom as well.

“I understand, precious. I think it is perfectly fine to invite them both to the next event. We will have extra security hired on to make sure the first few go off without a hitch, yes? I am not going to take any risks with you ever again.” Of course, Ilya also cared about the other members of his new club, but as always, Shane was his top priority. He would not allow another Sasha situation to come up, and he certainly would not be overlooking any Nikolai’s this time.

Shane breaks into a soft grin, pressing forward to kiss him again. “He’s so cool, Ilya. He has sparkly fangs and this big tattoo of a fox. He’s a Siberian fox, which means he’s a white fox, I think. But he had a key chain with a fox’s tail on it, and it was orange and pink, so maybe he likes different colored tails, sometimes. I guess you can still be a Siberian fox with a pink tail if you want to. I just…never thought of that. Oh!” Shane exclaims. “And he went as something so cute for Halloween. Do you have your phone? I want to show you the video.”

Shane is apparently feeling talkative again, which Ilya would never complain about, so he hands his phone over without question and watches as Shane types something into YouTube. When the video comes up, Ilya laughs at the sight of a tiny, grey kitten poptart flying through the sky in a path of rainbow and glitter stars.

“See? Isn’t that so cute?” Shane prompts, looking over at him brightly.

“I love you,” Ilya says in return, because he doesn’t think he can ever say it enough.

Shane just pulls him into another kiss, and before Ilya knows it, his phone has fallen into the couch cushions, and the two of them are making out. But even as Shane sucks on his tongue, he’s shivering, so Ilya rubs both of his hands up and down Shane’s arms.

“You are cold, мой маленький котёнок?” Ilya murmurs against Shane’s skin.

“A little,” Shane replies, nodding. He yelps as Ilya swiftly picks him up and, instead, lowers himself to the ground in front of the fire, depositing Shane right back in his lap as he does so.

-

“Better?” Ilya asks, and it is.

Shane sighs and nods against him, feeling the fire start to bleed into his bones as it flares against his skin.

“Mm, good. Just relax,” Ilya hums, soothing his hands across the expanse of Shane’s back.

Winter was shaping up to be so much better now that he had someone to hold him close after temperatures dropped and the season got more intense. Last winter had been a particularly brutal one, with Shane hitting the peak of what he can now admit was a bad case of internal homophobia. He met Rose not long after that, and he had been determined to make it work for the sake of his career. For the sake of his future. Now, though, he was surprised to find that he would be much more likely to choose his relationship with Ilya over hockey. If anything were to happen that required Shane to choose between the two, he had no question about what his decision would be. It was crazy how much could change in just a year’s time.

“I feel so close to you,” Shane says into his shoulder. “Closer than I’ve ever felt to anyone in my life.”

“Me too,” Ilya echoes without question.

“You’re so good to me.”

“You are so good to me in return. Everything I do, I do because I love doing it. I love every moment I spend with you.”

Shane swallows as his heart sparks to life in his chest. He doesn’t understand how, nearly five months in, Ilya can still say things that invoke new levels of feeling within him, new heights of love that are already so many mountains high. “I never thanked you for this season.”

Ilya pulls back slightly to regard him, his eyebrows pulled together. “This season?”

“With hockey,” Shane clarifies, dragging his eyes up to meet Ilya’s blue. “For making sure I had a place to go when things got bad. For letting me play center. For making this team feel like a family before I even realized I was in desperate need of one.”

Ilya is watching him with soft eyes and a little curve of his lips.

“You knew I was in a bad situation and you did everything you could to ensure I had something to fall back on when shit hit the fan. So, thank you. You always put me first, and I want you to know I don’t take it for granted.” Shane cups his jaw to pull him close. “I know you think you let people down, but you have to understand that you have always, always been there for me when I needed you.”

Ilya’s smile falters, like he’s drifting back to instances where he doesn’t consider that to be true, so Shane cuts him off with a kiss before he can go too far down a bad thought path.

And before he knows it, Ilya is pressing him back against the living room rug, laving his tongue over Shane’s neck in a claiming gesture, like he’s feeling part wolf tonight. Like Shane is a pack member who strayed too far away without his Alpha today.

“I’m in love with the way you smell,” Ilya tells him indulgently, and Shane laughs against him.

“I’m wearing your cologne.”

“No, not your cologne. The way you smell,” Ilya corrects. “Your natural scent. It is like a fucking drug to me.”

“Too soon,” Shane groans, because he was still too triggered by his recent experience with weed.

Ilya smirks in response. “One day I will get you high and show you how good it can be when you are not having your super panic kitty meltdown.”

“I think it’s good enough already. I don’t think I can handle it being any better, quite honestly,” Shane admits.

“Is that a challenge?” Ilya raises his eyebrows, cupping Shane’s pec to circle his thumb over Shane’s nipple.

“Jesus,” Shane sucks in a breath, eyes slipping shut. He was fucking easy for Ilya right now, the fire hot next to his face while the wind blew cold and hard against the window.

“I noticed you had to shave a bit of hair behind your ears to get that tattoo,” Ilya mentions casually, but he pinches Shane’s nipple as he does it.

“Ah,” Shane whines, raking his fingers through Ilya’s curls to have something to hold onto. “Are you mad?” He manages, opening his eyes again to catch Ilya’s gaze.

“Never mad,” Ilya vows, ducking to suck Shane’s nipple into his mouth this time.

Shane tugs hard at his hair to try and escape—or maybe bring him closer; Shane isn’t sure. “T-too bad,” Shane gasps, writhing a bit in Ilya’s hold.

Ilya raises his head to offer Shane a look. “Did you want me to be mad? Wanted me to train you a little bit, baby? Is that it? You were hoping to get in trouble by not asking for permission?”

“No, I mean,” Shane stutters. “I never wanted to bad—”

“And you never are,” Ilya assures him, petting over Shane’s tummy and immediately calming any panic that starts to rise within him. “You were absolutely perfect for me today. You called me before putting the deposit down on the wedding venue. You called me to ask about using your own money. You even gave me a clue about the surprise so I wouldn’t worry. You are the best I could ever, ever ask for. You were so, so good for me, in fact, that I think you deserve a reward.”

“A reward,” Shane asks, pushing up onto his elbows in alert, because his kitten ears are definitely tingling right now.

“Yes, kitty,” Ilya smiles at him. “A reward for my good boy. You behaved yourself with Troy today, correct?”

Shane nods emphatically. “Yes. I—well, he pet me for a minute when I was feeling stressed over the wedding venues.”

“You were stressed over the venues, baby?” Ilya questions softly, grazing his thumb over Shane’s jawline.

“Just, you know,” Shane frowns. “I wish you could be there, of course. Rose, Troy, and my mom, they’re all great, but…I just wish we didn’t have to hide for this part. It’s not anyone’s fault.”

“I know,” Ilya appeases, looking him over. “I wish I could be there, too. But I will be as involved as I can. If we have to show up thirty minutes apart to appointments, or use back entrances, or make people sign NDAs, then we will. I promise you I will find a way to be there for you.”

“It’s okay, though,” Shane says softly. “Troy offered to take videos so you and I could look at them together. I didn’t want to decide anything without you, but we were nervous the next appointment might take the last July date.”

“I understand, precious,” Ilya promises, kissing his chin. “Troy is always allowed to pet you, just so we are clear. Especially if I am not with you and you are upset. I am really glad you have a friend like him that you feel comfortable around,” he states honestly.

Shane’s lips curl slightly at the corners. “Troy told me something happened between him and Harris after the club the other weekend. Said they went home together, and uh, well, I guess Harris was petting him after. Petting him like a dog.”

Ilya’s eyebrows raise high on his head. “No way,” he laughs, rubbing his hand over Shane’s bare chest. “God, look at you. First, a new puppy friend, and now a fox? You must be the friendliest kitten in the world, hm?”

“Can I go down?” Shane says suddenly, desperately. “Fuck, please.”

“You wanna be my котёнок, sweetheart? You have had such a long day, haven’t you?”

Shane nods pitifully.

“Is your Tylenol working, angel? You’re not in any pain, are you?” Ilya double-checks, carding his fingers through Shane’s hair.

“Hurt my ears,” Shane whispers, turning to press his mouth to Ilya’s wrist.

“The tattoo hurt your ears?” Another bob of his head. “Oh, baby. My poor little солнышко. Hard at work all day being the best kitten for your owner, is that it? Planning your kitten wedding, getting your kitten ear surgery.”

Shane purrs in surprise at that one. Wow. Kitten ear surgery. To be an actual kitten!

“Mm, I better take such good care of you while your new ears are healing. I think I know just the thing to make sure my kitten is nice and relaxed.”

Shane tips his head curiously as Ilya peers down at him.

“I am going to eat you out nice and slow. With tiny little kitten licks because I want to take my time. I want you to get nice and quiet and braindead for me. I want you to have the best sleep of your life tonight, like a cozy, curled-up cat.”

Shane moans and nods, gripping onto Ilya wherever he can reach, but Ilya stops him with a hand on his abdomen.

“Alright, драгоценный. Let me get the rest of your clothes off. I am in control right now, yes? I just want you to relax and take what I give you now.”

-

There’s nothing Ilya enjoys more than staring down Shane Hollander’s beautiful, twitching hole. He’s on his elbows and knees in front of Ilya, back arched, head on a pillow beneath him, legs spread wide—just as Ilya has arranged him. God, Shane’s yoga could allow him to stretch into unfathomable positions that Ilya has never experienced with any man before. He’s grateful for it now as he lies on his stomach in front of the fireplace, both hands cupping Shane’s ass.

A face full of this ass is the best dessert he could ever ask for, and it only gets better when Shane starts to squirm and whine as Ilya licks into him slowly. One baby lick every three seconds or so, his hot breath fanning over Shane’s inner thighs. He can’t stop staring at Shane’s permanent kitten ears, can’t stop thinking about the fact that, every day, Shane somehow found new ways to make himself appear more like Ilya’s.

Ilya laps lightly over Shane’s scrotum, fingers grazing across the backs of Shane’s thighs as he does so, and Shane just shudders, turning his face until Ilya can see shadows of the fire flickering against his dark eyebrows and lighting up his sweet face.

“Perfect. My absolutely perfect boy,” Ilya murmurs against him, pressing a wet kiss to Shane’s rim. “Oh god, the thought of you spending so much of my money on this wedding for us. I would go fucking bankrupt declaring my love for you. I will spend every single dollar I have trying to keep you happy, trying to take care of you the best I can. My money is nothing without you to spend it on. Everything I have, it is all for you.”

A shiver runs through Shane, so Ilya presses another slow kiss to Shane’s quivering hole, smiling into the sensitive skin when Shane tries to grind back against his face.

“Easy, kitty. You are not trying to get off right now. You are just letting yourself feel everything I give you. I want you to relax into me fully. Let me take control,” Ilya requests. He can feel the change in Shane’s skin, the way he lets tension bleed out of him like it’s Ilya’s choice to decide what he does or doesn’t hold onto. Ilya is constantly fascinated by Shane and his submission, wishes he could live for a day inside Shane’s wondrous head to see how his mind worked, how he was able to submit so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world to him—at least when he was with Ilya. “Okay?”

He’s pleased when Shane nods jerkily against the pillow, his hands making fists in the fluffy rug beneath him. So, Ilya gets back to tasting. To taking his sweet time. Because his Shane is sensitive, and Ilya values every twitch, every breath, every purr.

“That’s my baby. That’s my sweet boy,” Ilya says hypnotizingly as he traces over the prominent vein on Shane’s cock with his finger. “You get so wet for me, don’t you? My desperate, little pet. You are so silly and small. Need your owner to tell you exactly what to do, is that right? You just want me to be in charge of everything.”

Shane arches into his touch, rubbing his face all over the pillow as he whines pathetically for Ilya’s attention.

“I do not know what you are begging for, angel. I am right here. I’m here to give you everything you need, but I want to go slow, so we will go slow.” He taps Shane’s rim once, twice, and then flicks it, soothing it over with his tongue before Shane can cry out.

Ilya continues like that for a while. It’s just as much for him as it is for Shane, maybe even more so. Because Ilya just fucking loses himself. He’s self-soothing by burying himself in Shane again, and for the first time, he actually realizes he’s doing it. This isn’t just Ilya being disgustingly in love, taking care of his partner; this is also Ilya trying to cope with being terrifyingly afraid, trying to remain ten steps ahead so he can protect Shane with every stressed-out instinct he has, trying to keep him with all his might because Ilya knows that he will cease to exist if he ever loses him. Whether that’s to a break-up, or something much worse.

Ilya licks into him more intensely, using his full tongue as if he can somehow spell out his love for Shane in big, broad licks. As if Ilya’s feelings can somehow wash over him like a protective shield and keep him safe from everything threatening to cause him harm. Shane is desperately trying to grind his hips in little circles, even as Ilya holds him open with firm fingers.

“My horny baby keeps trying to hump against me. Oh my goodness. If only everyone could see you like this,” Ilya fantasizes. “Some things are just for me. Some things will always be just for me, but you are perfection. God, I just want to show you off. Show everyone how lucky I am that you are mine. That you want me just as much as I want you.” Ilya swallows because that was another fear of his—that he and Shane had just gone way too deep, way too soon, and one day Shane would wake up and run for the hills.

Shane rises from his pillow, blinks up at him through half-lidded eyes—something like the need to reassure Ilya sparking within him—and then all of a sudden, Shane’s face is lit up animatedly as his little tongue pokes out.

It triggers a grin from Ilya, and stirred back into motion, he licks into Shane with a fury, gripping his hips tightly as Shane melts back into the rug beneath him. Fuck yeah. All Ilya knows is that he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, worshipping Shane Hollander like the ancient cat god he is, turning his head into sticky, gooey mush. Ilya’s thoughts could sometimes consume him, but when he was here, when he could shut all the noise off and just focus on the delicate creature in front of him, Ilya didn’t have a care in the world.

He’s going at Shane with a rigor now, eager to finish him off good and hard. Until his balls are empty, and his mind barely works, and he has no choice but to let Ilya take over, to let Ilya give him everything he needs.

Shane is whimpering and rutting back against Ilya’s face like his life depends on it, his thighs shaking when Ilya forcefully scrapes his scruff against them, wanting to ensure that Shane will feel him there tomorrow. He has half a mind to mark him all over, to make such a mess of his skin that the guys approach him after the game in worry that Shane has somehow been mauled by a bear. Why the fuck are you staring at his ass so much, Ilya would wonder in response, but he knows the answer. In fact, it turns him on how much everyone wants the one thing they can’t have. The one person that has always and will always belong to Ilya.

Shane comes with a scream of his name, Ilya jerking his dick off with one hand while he continues to slobber and rub his face all over Shane’s anal wonderland. He could stay here for another hour, at least, his own dick hard and leaking all over his sweatpants, but Shane is already starting to become bone-dead, melting into the carpet like liquid as the aftershocks of his orgasm shudder through him.

Ilya follows him on the way down, content to keep licking lightly at Shane’s puffy rim like it’s his favorite popsicle flavor on a particularly sweltering day. He wants to nuzzle into Shane’s ass and fall asleep on the pillow of muscle, hook his arms under Shane’s thighs and cuddle into him like his own personal safety blanket. He’s in love with every single inch of him.

Ilya hasn’t gotten off, but he’s so fucking sated from feeling the stress of today melt out of Shane that he decides he doesn’t need to. There are things he wants much more. Like crawling up Shane’s warm, sweaty, naked body to wrap himself entirely around him. Pressing a series of kisses across his new kitten ears, fitting his tattooed hand in the space between them just to see how their ink lines up together. Two pieces of a puzzle that have gone so long-forgotten in a box that, for a second, the universe almost forgot they were part of something bigger. The picture is so clear to Ilya now, the warm fire beating down on Shane’s sunflower seed-speckled face as his brown boba eyes fall to a close. Ilya buries himself in Shane’s soft black hair, wedging his knee between Shane’s legs and winding around him like a weighted body pillow. Shane purrs and sinks closer on autopilot like his aching muscles recognize he’s home.

-

Chapter End Notes

here's my pinterest board for brooks and grey if anyone is interested

next chapter we have ilya who will be sick for an away game week and kitten shane hollander who will be stepping up to the plate as captain! i'm about 15k into this chapter and i think it might be one of my favorite ones yet :)

would love to know your thoughts as usual!! thanks for your patience and dedication to reading this story! i hope it has still been as fun for you to read as it has been for me to write!

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

tw for guilt/shame from aftermath of sexual assault

They’re coming up on their first Western Away trip when Ilya comes down with something. It starts as ‘allergies.’ That’s what Ilya keeps telling him, but Shane has been living with him for months now, and as far as he knows, at least, Ilya doesn’t have allergies. Not to dust, not to pollen, not to anything.

But he’s sneezing. He’s sneezing when they finish their Home game on Saturday, and by Sunday, he’s no better. His nose is all stuffed up, and it’s starting to turn puffy and red from how often he’s been blowing it.

“Would you please just take some medicine?” Shane sighs after Ilya comes back from the bathroom with toilet paper up his nose for the third time this evening. “You’re going to get sick on the plane tomorrow if you don’t get ahead of it.”

“I do not get sick. Russians never get sick,” Ilya says with a roll of his eyes, but Shane just watches him intentionally as he blows another round of snot into the tissue.

Later that night, Shane wakes to the sound of Ilya throwing up in the toilet. His eyebrows crease together in concern, and he’s up, out of bed, before he can stop himself. When he gets to the bathroom, he finds Ilya hunched over, his face sweaty and miserable.

“Jesus, babe,” Shane sighs, running a hand over Ilya’s back as he sinks down next to him. “You’re piping hot,” he notices, shifting his hand to Ilya’s forehead this time to push back his sweaty curls.

Ilya just sniffles again and shakes his head, but Shane can see his eyes are watery; his sinuses are clogged. “I am always hot, Shane. I don’t know why you are just now noticing.”

Shane smiles faintly at the joke. At least he was still capable of being an idiot, but Shane knows in his heart that this is more than just allergies or a stomach issue due to something from dinner. He knows that this is something that probably warrants Ilya missing a game or two if he expects to get better.

He also knows that Ilya isn’t going to want to hear that right now, and they still have a few hours before their alarm will go off, so Shane carefully helps him to his feet, cleans him up, and ushers him back to bed.

When their alarm finally does ring out in the morning, Ilya doesn’t budge. Shane has to climb over him in order to turn it off, and when he presses his hand to Ilya’s forehead once more, he’s alarmingly warm. So much so that Shane calls Coach Wiebe to let him know that Ilya should not be flying today. That he’s in no condition to play a game tomorrow, regardless of how much Ilya might beg to differ.

“Baby,” Shane says softly, raking his fingers through Ilya’s wet hair to try and get him to rise.

Ilya groans like the morning light streaming in is causing him pain, so Shane shifts to try and block it from view.

“Sweetheart, you’re really warm,” Shane informs his fiancé. “Can you open your mouth for a second so I can take your temperature?”

Ilya must be feeling too shitty to argue right now, because he slowly parts his lips without question to allow Shane to stick the thermometer underneath his tongue. Shane smiles at how cute he is like this, soft and pliant compared to how commandeering he could normally be. Shane leans down to check the device when the beep goes off, and his heart clenches when he sees the number.

104 degrees.

Ilya wasn’t going anywhere this morning.

It’s a fight they have as Shane secretly calls the team doctor, asking him to come over. It’s a fight they’re still having as the doctor administers a flu test and confirms that’s what Ilya has. It’s an even bigger fight when the doctor declares that Ilya is absolutely forbidden to come on this away trip, lest they risk getting anyone else sick, Shane included. And when the team doctor eventually leaves, Ilya is red in the face and screaming out with what little voice he has left.

“I am not fucking staying home while you go to California without me. Are you kidding?”

“Ilya, you have the flu,” Shane stresses. “You can’t travel right now. You’re only going to make yourself worse, and you’re just going to get the rest of the team sick if you try to come. It’s not like you can play like this. You can barely stand up.”

As if to prove his point, Ilya wobbles, catching himself on the edge of the bed before he can topple over. He looks weak. He looks sick.

“Ilya, please,” Shane begs. “It’s only a week. Four games. It’s not the end of the world. We can go that long without each other. We’ve gone more than two weeks when I was still in Montreal.”

“You expect me to let you leave when you are comparing this trip to when you were in Montreal? You mean the worst weeks of my life when I was worried fucking sick about you? How many times do we have to prove that we are not good at being apart? How many bad things have to happen before you understand we are so much stronger when we are together?”

“We are,” Shane agrees, eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, we are stronger together, but there’s also no reason why we can’t go a week without each other. Especially when you’re sick and you need to stay in bed and rest.”

“Shane,” Ilya swallows, shaking his head, but it’s hard for Shane to take him seriously when his voice is raw and his eyes are all swollen and puffy. “I do not like the idea of you going on this trip without me.”

Shane sighs and moves to sit on the bed, pulling Ilya by the hand to sit down with him. Even his hand feels like a million degrees. “I don’t like the idea of going without you either,” Shane says quietly. “But I’m a big boy, and I’ve traveled to away games a million times by myself. I promise I can survive for one week without you.”

“The plane—” Ilya cuts in, and he sounds like he’s close to tears.

“I will text you the second we take off and call you the moment we land,” Shane promises, squeezing his hand tightly, because Ilya has every right to be concerned given their past experiences.

“What if you lose the games—”

“Then, I will call you,” Shane repeats. “I will call you twenty times a day, okay? Until you’re positively sick of me checking in on you. I don’t care about these stupid games, Ilya. I only care about making sure you’re better. Yeah?” He hums, cupping Ilya’s cheek this time to get the other to meet his eyeline. “I promise you everything’s going to be okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I just want you to focus on getting some rest. I’m going to handle everything in California.”

-

Ilya wants to believe him, wants to believe that everything with Shane will be just fine while he’s away, but nothing about what they’ve been through so far can stand as a testament to that. In all of Ilya’s time with Shane, he has never once seen him come out of a loss without needing some kind of comfort as consolation, and if Ilya was thousands of miles away from him, how the hell was he going to make sure Shane got what he needed to be okay? How the hell was he just going to let Shane go off and try to Captain this team all on his own? It didn’t matter that Shane had done it for nearly ten years with his team in Montreal. That was then; this was now. And now, Ilya had taken on that responsibility. Ilya had offered to shoulder the extra weight as Shane’s life became increasingly unmanageable, as he quickly realized Shane had bitten off way more than he could chew.

“I do not want you to go alone,” Ilya whispers weakly, almost brokenly. He didn’t want to be alone. He’d also become accustomed to the comfort of having Shane around.

“I won’t be alone,” Shane smiles lightly, tucking a stray curl behind Ilya’s ear. “I’ll have the rest of the boys, hm? Our family. Plus, I know Troy and Harris will keep a close eye on me for you. You can probably even ask them for regular updates,” he teases, like he knows how much Ilya is going to struggle with this. The not knowing. The lack of control.

That feeling of helplessness creeps in again.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay home to take care of you.” Shane’s expression drops minutely. “I hate the idea of you being here all by yourself.” Shane sighs and looks down at his Rolex. “If I don’t get going though, I’m going to be late.”

Ilya swallows and nods because, ultimately, he knows Shane’s right. He feels dizzy from his headache. His body feels like it’s on fire. He’s not in any condition to be going on this trip. He hates himself for getting sick in Shane’s time of need. Why couldn’t this have happened during a home week?

“Please, take your medicine,” Shane requests, gliding his hand over Ilya’s lower back. “Drink lots of water. I’m going to order some supplies to the house, so you can get healthy as soon as possible. Soup. Electrolytes. Make sure to take lots of baths. I have Epsom salt under the counter if you feel sore. There’s tons of ice packs in the freezer from when I hurt my wrist. Just—”

And, for a second, the mask slips, and Ilya can see the fear creep in. Can tell that Shane is just putting on a brave face because he feels like he has to be the strong one right now, has to make Ilya believe he’s feeling calm and collected so that Ilya won’t put up a fight about him leaving. Because, at the end of the day, this is their job, and as much as Ilya wants to cry and scream and beg for Shane to stay home with him, he also knows how ridiculous that would be. Shane had a responsibility to show up for the team, and hopefully, captain them to victory. Ilya had total faith in his ability to do so.

“Hey,” Ilya says, finding a moment of strength to put on his Dom voice, to take control of one more thing before Shane heads off to handle everything on his own. “You are an excellent Captain. I have—” he pauses to cough, clutching onto Shane’s shoulder for purchase. “I have total faith in your ability to lead this team,” he finishes with the last amount of fight left in him. He says a silent fuck you to the universe for putting yet another roadblock in his path to happiness.

Shane huffs a small laugh, pressing his face into Ilya’s neck for a moment like he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t worried about leading the team, idiot. I was worried about you. I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself so I have a healthy, handsome husband to come back to, okay?”

Ilya pouts, wishing more than anything that he could have Nurse Hollander taking care of him this week instead. “I am not handsome unless I am healthy?”

Shane laughs and kisses him right on his sick, contagious mouth. “You look like a sad, little puppy dog. You’re ridiculously cute, and handsome, always. I love you so fucking much.”

Ilya thunks his forehead against Shane’s, clutching onto him wherever he can reach, which ends up being his hand and his thigh. “I love you more,” he mutters back, and he feels lucky when Shane lets him win that one by not arguing with him. When the front door finally closes in his wake, the silence echoes all through the house.

Ilya scrambles for his phone and quickly puts the entire team into a group text, excluding Shane.

🏒 CENS minus love of my life :(

Ilya: I am out sick this week with flu. I expect regular updates on my Shane, and you better tell me immediately if anything is wrong. Do not let him sit by himself on the bus or plane. Please make sure he is okay when the team loses. He can be very hard on himself about hockey, and I do not need him blaming himself because I cannot be there. If he is in need of pets, then please give him pets. Harris, I am putting you in charge, and Troy, you are on Shane duty. All week, okay? Do not fuck this up, I swear to god. I will lose my mind if anything bad happens to him.

Hazy: WHEN the team loses? Jeez, Roz. Thanks for the vote of confidence. You really think we can’t win without you? 😂

Bood: Fuck. Feel better, dude. But is it wrong that I’m a little excited we get to experience Captain Shane Hollander? I mean, like, once in a lifetime experience, am I right?

Harris: You don’t have to worry about a thing. We’ll take good care of him! I hope you feel better soon. Troy and I are looking forward to the extra Shane time.

Troy: You can count on us, Ilya!!! I’ll send so many pictures, you won’t even realize he’s gone!

Luca: get well soon :( I wonder who Coach will move to line 1

LaPointe: Do we actually get to pet Shane???

Holmberg: Dude chill

LaPointe: What?? His hair looks so soft.

Harris: Guys, you still need to run all pets by me first. And Shane, remember? The only one who has explicit permission is Troy.

Ilya throws his phone across the room and collapses back into his pillow, coughing weakly as another round of phlegm rises in his throat. He was not going to survive this week apart. It’s the last clear thought he has before his body gives up in exhaustion, sleep capturing him and luring him away unwillingly until the only thing he can perceive is darkness.

When he wakes up, it’s to the sound of the front door opening, and for just a second, his sleepy mind believes that Shane has come back for him. That Shane couldn’t stand the thought of being away from him for a whole week just as much as Ilya couldn’t. That Shane has somehow made up some excuse, come up with some lie as to why he needs the week off, too. Some lie that might reasonably explain why Ottawa would have both of their star players out this Away stint.

Instead, when his door creaks open, he finds Yuna Hollander watching him with sympathetic eyes.

“Yuna?” Ilya tries, his voice wrecked already from coughing so much.

“Oh, dear,” Yuna shakes her head. “Let me get you some tea. Don’t say another word.”

Ilya’s heart thuds, but he hesitantly lies back against the pillows and nods, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Shane must have stopped by his parents’ house on his way to the airport to drop off their house key.

Yuna returns a few minutes later with a mug of piping hot liquid and a coaster, which she sets next to him on the nightstand. “Come here. Let me check your temperature.” She reaches for the thermometer and gestures Ilya forward.

“I—did he land yet?” Ilya questions, well aware of the fact that his phone is somewhere halfway across the room.

“Not yet, darling. Few more hours,” Yuna tells him sadly. “I’m tracking the flight on my phone, though, and I will let you know as soon as he lands.” She takes his temperature and then looks at it with a frown. “102. Well, I picked up your prescription and some other medicine to get you through the week. I’m going to make you something to eat so you can get these down. Drink your tea. I’m going to bring a pack of water bottles for you to keep by the bed and an ice pack for your fever.” She lays her hand over his forehead for a minute before nodding and heading off in search of the relevant supplies.

Ilya wants to cry at how much she reminds him of Shane. He wants to cry at how much she reminds him of his own mom, how she used to dote on him when he was too ill to go to school. He hasn’t been doted on like that in a while, he realizes. His body sinks a little further into the bed. He tries not to think about how good it feels to be looked after, tries to ignore the warm feeling in his bones at the fact that Shane made sure he would have someone to take care of him.

-

The first thing Shane does when he lands is call Ilya. It rings endlessly before going to voicemail. He hopes that means that Ilya is getting some much-needed rest. He dials his mom next.

“Shane, hi,” his mom greets, and he’s thankful to hear her voice. “Did you just get in?”

“Yup, just landed. How’s Ilya? Are you with him?”

“Oh, he’s a mess,” Yuna sighs. “Poor baby. I can tell he’s not used to being sick like this. He’s completely restless. Keeps waking every hour to ask if you’ve made it in yet.”

Shane’s heart clenches. “Would you tell him that I did?”

“Of course.” He hears his mom’s smile through the phone. “I just want to let him rest a little longer. He’s gone two hours so far. It’s a new record. But I’ll have him call you as soon as he wakes up.”

“That’s good,” Shane breathes out, grateful that Ilya has someone there with him to make sure he’s okay. “Yeah, don’t wake him if he’s resting. I’m half convinced he still thinks he’s going to fly out and meet us midway through the week.”

Yuna laughs warmly. “Well, I don’t blame him. You are going up against Los Angeles.”

“Mom,” Shane warns. “Don’t encourage him.”

“I know, I know,” she relents. “I’m just saying, if he starts to feel better—”

“Mom,” Shane cuts in again.

“I’m kidding, god. Relax,” she huffs, and then, her voice softens. “Everything’s…okay between you two, right?”

Shane frowns, holding his hand up when Troy tries to get his attention for something. “Of course, everything’s okay. Why wouldn’t everything be okay?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “You just seem…a little codependent lately. I worry that you’re sometimes struggling to do things on your own.”

“He’s the love of my life, Mom,” Shane says simply. “I want to be with him whenever I can. We’ve spent so long being apart when we should have been together. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“I understand,” Yuna agrees, but then she pauses. “I just want to make sure you’re still you. That you’re still making choices based on what you want, and what you need.”

“Mom, what is this about?” Shane asks abruptly.

She lets out a breath, like she’s growing slightly irritated. “This is all just happening very fast, Shane. It’s clear you feel very strongly for each other, but—”

“But what?” Shane demands.

“Look, you went through something traumatic together. I’m sure it stirred up a lot of intense emotions for both of you. And now, with the wedding…I just…as your mother, I need to know you’re not getting swept away in someone else and losing parts of yourself.”

“Mom,” Shane exhales softly, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never been more sure about anything than I am about Ilya. I know this might be hard for you to hear, but he made me realize there are more important things in life than hockey. I’m still your son. I’m still me,” he stresses. “But I’m part of a pair now. The same way you are with Dad. He’s my other half, and I’m always going to look to him for guidance, or miss him when he’s not with me. I…haven’t had that before. Not ever,” Shane informs her seriously. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with how much we need each other. We’ve been through a lot recently. Is it such a bad thing if he’s my safe place? Don’t I deserve that after ten years of feeling so alone?”

For a second, she doesn’t answer him, and worry starts to pool in Shane’s gut. He doesn’t think he could handle it if his mom suddenly started losing faith that what he and Ilya had was the real deal. They were getting married, for Christ’s sake. They’d put down a deposit on a venue. She’d encouraged him to do so. But she’s speaking again before Shane can spiral too far into those troubling thoughts.

“It kills me to think you were struggling all this time and we had no idea,” her voice breaks. “You could have told us, Shane,” she nearly whispers. “We wouldn’t have thought any different of you.”

“I know,” Shane stresses. “I wasn’t keeping it from you. If anything, I was keeping it from myself. I just…I couldn’t come to terms with it. Couldn’t deal with what it might mean if I let it be true.”

“I’m glad you have him,” she assures, and Shane relaxes minutely. “I can tell you’re happier here. In Ottawa. With your new team.”

Shane’s lips curl at the ends.

“You’re still Shane Hollander, though. My very strong, and brave, and capable son. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it, but just make sure you don’t disappear. Your father and I are a team, but we only work as well as we do because we recognize that we are each our own person, okay? You carried your last team to four Cups. I’ve seen what you can do by yourself, without the help of anyone, and I have full confidence that you’re going to carry your team to victory this week, too.”

“Mom, without Ilya—”

“Uh,” she stops him. “I don’t want to hear it. You’ve never needed Ilya to win hockey games in the past; you don’t need him now. He’s going to be right here waiting for you when you get back, and I’m sure he’ll be cheering the loudest when you score a hat trick tomorrow night.”

A surprised laugh escapes Shane’s lips.

“Just…prove to me that I’m worrying over nothing. Just to give your mom some peace of mind before she gives away her only son’s hand in marriage. Okay?”

Shane’s chest feels tight as he nods jerkily. “I will, Mom. I promise.” He was going to make her proud. Her and Ilya.

When Shane gets to the hotel, it’s alarmingly quiet. He puts his suitcase on the luggage rack and tries not to feel Ilya’s absence all around him. He sits down on the bed and presses his hand into one of the pillows. It’s soft. Too soft. Shane was used to sleeping on Ilya’s chest. He liked his pillows hard as a rock and breathing beneath him.

Shane practically dives for his phone when it lights up next to him. He tries not to feel disappointed when he sees his mom’s number instead of Ilya’s, but when he picks up—

“Shane?” Ilya sniffles, and he sounds even more stuffed up than he was when Shane left. “You are in California?”

“Hi, baby,” Shane breathes, a sudden sense of calm washing over him. “I am. I just got to my room at the hotel.”

“And the plane was alright?”

Shane smiles, tracing over the cross pendant on his collar. “Super smooth take-off and landing. I sat with Troy and Harris. We started our movies at the same time so we could all watch together.”

“Good,” Ilya murmurs. Shane can hear how tired he is.

“How’s my mom treating you?” Shane asks, biting his lip at the thought of his conversation with her an hour ago.

“She is an angel,” Ilya sighs. “I am going to miss her when she leaves tonight, but she said she and David will come by tomorrow so we can all watch your game.”

The thought of his family watching his hockey game with Ilya makes Shane’s heart soar.

“I don’t want to be here by myself. I don’t like being alone. It reminds me of the time when you were still in Montreal.”

Shane frowns because it’s killing him that this is his first real opportunity to be there for Ilya in a rare time of need, and yet, he’s unable to actually physically be there for him. “I can tell my mom to stay the night if you want. The guest room is already made up. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“That is nice, but—” A sneeze. “It is not the same as having you. I know I am the one who is sick, but…I feel useless when I can’t take care of you.”

“Ilya,” Shane says worriedly. “You can take care of me by taking care of yourself right now. I just need you healthy. I’m going to handle everything over here.”

Ilya doesn’t say anything else, just makes a non-committal sound, and coughs.

“If it’ll make you feel better, we can go to sleep on FaceTime or something. Then, it’s kinda like we’re right next to each other.”

He can practically hear Ilya’s smile through the phone. “Mm, I would like this very much. I am on your mom’s phone, though. I chucked mine somewhere across the room, and I do not have the energy to go look for it.”

Shane laughs in endearment. “Ask my mom to find it for you, please. I want you to actually pick up when I call. Unless you’re sleeping, okay? Promise me you won’t pick up if you’re asleep.”

“You cannot see, but I am rolling my eyes at you right now,” Ilya mutters. “You are ridiculous. Of course I will wake up if you call. I—” Ilya turns away from the receiver slightly as a coughing fit washes over him. “Please send me pictures,” he begs, and he sounds miserable. “I will die if I cannot see your pretty Shane face.”

“Ilya, are you still on the phone?” Shane hears his mom from somewhere in the background. “Here, let me talk to him for a minute. Shane?” Her voice is suddenly clear in his ear now. “I wanted to let you know that Gatorade called again today—”

“Mom, I told you,” Shane says in exasperation. “It’s straight sugar!”

“Sweetie. This is a deal with a lot of zeroes at the end of it. Now, I don’t mean to pry, but I realize you took a huge pay cut, and with the wedding and all—”

“Mom, I’m not doing a deal with Gatorade,” Shane tells her for the hundredth time.

“I am the groom, and I have plenty of money because Ottawa signed me as star center—”

“You know, if you need me and your father to contribute to this wedding—” And Shane can tell he’s been put on speakerphone.

“Mom, please. Can we not talk about the wedding right now? I just wanted to check on Ilya and say goodnight.”

“It is not good night if you are not here,” Ilya whines.

“Don’t mind him. I just gave him some cough medicine,” his mom cautions. “It’s probably starting to kick in.”

Shane doesn’t know how to say that Ilya’s not acting any different than usual. In fact, if anything, he’s being a tiny bit more tame with her around. “Can you look for his phone? He threw it on the ground somewhere. I want to make sure he has it with him in case he needs anything.”

“Now, why did he do that?” His mom lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Because the boys were going to pet my kitten without me,” Ilya cries out.

“What on Earth is he talking about? You took Ilya’s cat with you?”

“Um, yes,” Shane says quickly, because he forgot Ilya was even supposed to have a cat. “Just, you know, so he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping her fed.” Shane bites his lip in contemplation. “Mom, is there any way you can stay in our guest room tonight? He sounds really—”

“I already called your father to bring over my bag. You should get some rest for your game tomorrow, okay? We’re going to be just fine over here.”

“Wait, please. I did not get to give him a goodnight kiss. He is going to think I don’t love him.”

“Ilya,” Shane laughs.

“Shaaane,” Ilya gets out pathetically. “How am I supposed to fall asleep without my little kitten?”

“Maybe Mom can bring Moose over to see you at some point,” Shane suggests, even as he feels a stab of jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

“No,” Ilya says disgruntledly. “It is only going to make me miss you even more. My body hurts without you.”

“Your body hurts because you have the flu, baby,” Shane replies patiently.

“Found the phone!” His mom calls out, and Shane can’t help but smile when he hears Ilya’s half-hearted woo!

“Ilya. Повесь трубку. Я перезвоню тебе на мобильный,” Shane instructs, since he really doesn’t need his mom’s two cents about him and Ilya needing to stay on the phone while they sleep.

“Oh my goddd,” Ilya murmurs deliriously. “Ты такая сексуальный, когда говоришь по-русски.”

“You are so something when you speak Russian,” Shane translates slowly in confusion.

“Сексуальный. You are so fucking sexy.”

“Ilya,” Shane hisses urgently, as he’s hit with the sudden realization that he should not have asked.

“Alright,” Yuna says loudly. “I think it’s time for me to hit the hay. Your dad is about to be here with my bag, so say goodnight, please. I’d like my phone back. Ilya, do you need another cup of tea before bed?”

“Mm, yes, please,” comes Ilya’s tiny voice, and Shane’s heart throbs.

“Okay. I’m going to go make you one, and when I come back, I’m taking my phone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ilya says softly.

Shane waits a few seconds until he’s sure his mom is gone, and then he lets out a sigh of relief. “Ilya, you can’t just call me sexy in front of my mom,” he huffs a small laugh.

“Why not?” Ilya pouts again. “Is true. She is your mom. She must know by now how sexy you are.”

“Don’t say that. That’s weird,” he requests. “Just call me on your phone once she leaves.”

“My sniffling is going to keep you up.” Ilya punctuates that sentence by blowing his nose loudly in Shane’s ear.

“Yeah, well. It’ll make me feel better knowing you’re alright and that your fever didn’t burst you into flames.”

“You are being dramatic,” Ilya huffs a stuffy-sounding sigh. “Я так сильно тебя люблю.”

Shane clutches onto his collar a little more securely. “Я скучаю по тебе и люблю тебя.”

“Wow, Shane,” his mom’s voice appears all of a sudden. “Was that you speaking Russian just now? You’re getting really good.”

“Yes, he is the best at everything,” Ilya coos. “Best boy in the world, actually. Best at hockey. Best fiancé. Best kitten—”

“Okay, baby. I think it’s time to hang up now. You’re saying odd things,” Shane tries to divert. “Mom, take the phone away from him, please, and make sure he plugs his in. Ilya, I’m going to call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tell me you love me again,” Ilya requests, and Shane obliges because he can never deny him anything.

“I love you so much. More than anything in this world. Get lots of sleep for me so you can be better by the time I’m back. Promise me?”

Ilya presses a loud kiss into the phone. “I love you. I am sending you lots of kisses. Ты позвонишь мне, когда она уйдет?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Да, я позвоню тебе, когда она уйдет. А теперь клади трубку.”

“Okay, boys. I am taking the phone. Both of you get some sleep, please. Shane, you better show up with your A-game tomorrow.”

“I will, Mom. Please…please take care of him.”

“We’re just fine over here, I promise.”

By the time Shane tries to call Ilya back, he’s pretty certain the other is completely passed out, which is a good thing as much as it is a bad thing. A good thing because it means he’s finally getting some much-needed rest; however, a bad thing because Shane wasn’t kidding about wanting to hear him breathing. He feels oddly alone for the first time in months.

He forces himself to open his suitcase, and he nearly cries at the neatly wrapped array of cat supplies that Ilya must have packed him when he wasn’t looking. A set of ears, some toys, a brush in the shape of a paw, and a sweet little stuffed bear wearing a Boston Bears jersey. There’s a travel-size set of Ilya’s body wash and shampoo, and a handwritten note that says,  First Kitten Captain to win 5 Stanley Cups. Make me proud. <3 Ilya.

Shane actually does start bawling at that. He picks up the bear and pulls it close to his chest, burying his face in the plushness of its fur to find that Ilya has sprayed it with cologne, because, of course, he always thought of everything. So, Shane reluctantly gets in the shower and rinses himself off. He closes his eyes and tries to pretend Ilya is here with him, tries to pretend Ilya’s hands are the ones soaping up his body, making him feel safe ahead of their first game in a while that Shane is actually nervous about. And when he finally deposits himself back into bed for the evening, he wedges himself so his nose is pressed right against the bear’s chest, and tries not to sleep as terribly as he feels with no one to hold him close.

He gets breakfast with Troy the next morning ahead of practice, fighting against every fiber of his being to reach out and touch. Ask for something. Demand attention. Because Shane, as it turns out, has become quite accustomed to Ilya’s frequent, and sometimes clingy, levels of physical touch—something that, unbeknownst to him, Shane has been starved of for years. He feels that way now. Unsettled. A nervous energy buzzing under his skin. He tries not to feel jealous when Harris kisses Troy and wraps an arm around him on their way to the bus.

Still no texts from Ilya this morning. Shane tries not to let it get to him. Tries to rationalize that it’s probably a good thing. If Ilya is still passed out, he’s likely gotten over twelve hours of sleep since they last spoke. Which hopefully means he’s going to start feeling better soon. Unfortunately for Shane, he still has a long week ahead of him, and today is only day 1. He tries to put on his best Captain’s hat for everyone else’s sake.

“Alright, boys.” Shane claps his hands loudly when they get to the locker room.

The guys are looking at him with wide eyes, glancing around at each other like they have no idea how this is going to work. At this point, everyone was incredibly used to the way Ilya took charge—of this team, and also, of Shane. It’s clear they’re all in for a steep adjustment period, except they don’t have time for that. Los Angeles certainly wasn’t going to sit around waiting for them to figure it out.

“Tough game tonight. Obviously, we’re missing our strongest winger.”

A couple of boos sound out from the group.

“But we’re not going to let that stop us, right? We’ve got a good thing going lately, and I don’t want us to lose any momentum. Bood and Haas, I’m going to need you two to step it up this week. We’re starting with Haas-y on line 1 tonight. We’ll see how that goes and make any adjustments as needed. Barrett, no distractions. You’ve been a beast with steals our last few games; I need you to keep up that energy. And Hazy,” Shane addresses, pointing to Wyatt this time. “I don’t want to see a single puck touch the net tonight, got it? We’re a little weaker on offense, which means our defense needs to be tight. Understood? I don’t want to see any messy lines. If there’s a gap, fill it. If there’s a loose puck, go after it. We’re finally starting to prove we’re a team who has what it takes to make the playoffs. Don’t let this week get in the way of that.”

“Aye, aye, Cap,” Barrett sounds out first, giving Shane a salute.

The rest of the boys still look a little shell-shocked at seeing Shane in Captain mode, but they’re motivated nonetheless.

“Let’s run it quick and easy for practice, okay? Map it out. Get yourselves in check. And show me why this is a team worthy of the Cup. Remind me why I came here.”

“We’ve got it, Hollzy,” Wyatt agrees, clapping him on the shoulder.

“We won’t let you down!” Holmberg calls out, shoulder-checking LaPointe.

“Ow. What he said,” LaPointe huffs, shoving him back.

By the time practice is over, Shane is feeling confident. About as confident as he can be without his other half, anyway. His body feels strong, but he’s mentally exhausted. He’s vibrating with the need to call Ilya and see how he’s doing. He’s the last to finish his shower, and by the time he gets back to his stall, all of the guys are looking at him oddly.

“What?” Shane frowns, glancing around the group of them, looking for some indication as to what they could possibly be staring at.

“Nothing, it’s just—” Bood starts.

“Hey, Shane?” Harris asks, stepping over to him with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me for a second?” He seems nervous, his smile jerky.

“What’s going on?” Shane questions, eyebrows furrowed as he takes another glimpse at the rest of the guys, but they’re all looking at their feet, avoiding eye contact.

“Do you want to step out—”

“No, I don’t need to go anywhere. Why doesn’t someone tell me what the hell is going on?” He demands, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Rozy’s in the hospital,” Troy blurts, and Shane feels the air around him go fuzzy.

“Hey, look. It’s fine. He’s okay. Maybe we should just—”

“Where’s my phone?” Shane says all of a sudden, turning to start digging through his bag. But there’s about a million things in it, and by the time Shane reaches the bottom, he can’t tell if he’s shuffled the device back to the top. “Fucking hell. Where is this fucking thing?”

Before he knows it, Troy and Harris have appeared at his side to help him look, and each of them hold onto items for Shane until the phone eventually appears in the newly empty space. He grabs it and tries not to think about the fact that he has zero missed messages as he immediately dials Ilya’s number, his heart racing wildly in his chest. The call goes straight to voicemail, and Shane spins sharply to face the rest of his team.

“Who told you that? How the fuck do you know that?”

“It’s, um…he texted the group chat,” Bood utters out awkwardly.

“What groupchat?” Shane raises his voice because he certainly doesn’t have any messages.

“I—the one he made without you,” Luca dares to admit, and Shane’s stomach sinks when the rest of the guys shoot him daggered glares.

Before Shane can weigh in on that, however, his phone buzzes to life in his hand, and he presses it to his ear the moment it does.

“Ilya?” He gets out in a breath, since the call is coming from Ilya’s phone, but his shoulders fall when his mom answers instead.

“Shane. Shouldn’t you be at practice?”

“Are you at the hospital right now?”

A pause that goes on way too long for Shane’s liking, and then a sigh. “We’re back at the house. I didn’t want to worry you—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mom. Seriously?” Shane practically shouts into the phone. “What the hell is wrong with you? Put him on the phone right now.”

“Shane, he’s resting—”

“What happened? Tell me what happened. Is he okay? I—do I need to get on a flight and come home?”

“He’s okay,” she assures him calmly. “He woke up in the middle of the night vomiting with a really high fever. I was worried because he was struggling to keep down fluids, so your father and I dropped him off to get checked out.”

“Dropped him off? You couldn’t fucking stay with him?”

“We were worried someone might see us. I didn’t want to accidentally out you by—”

“Mom, I don’t fucking care if I get outed. Don’t…don’t leave him alone like that ever again. Oh my god.” Shane pinches the bridge of his nose and tries not to combust in the middle of the locker room. The guys move quietly around him, like they’re scared of drawing too much attention to themselves. “I—is he alright? Why didn’t you fucking call me?”

“Ilya’s the one who told me not to, okay? He was going to tell you after the game tonight. He said there was nothing you could do anyway, so he didn’t want to worry you.”

“That’s a load of bullshit, and he knows it,” Shane scoffs, shaking his head.

“They gave him some fluids and medicine to bring his fever down and help with the nausea. He’s sleeping on the couch right now, but I’ll have him call you as soon as he wakes up.”

“Tell him that, next time, I expect to hear it from him and not my entire fucking team who somehow knew before I did. At least they seem to understand that’s something I should be informed of. As his fiancé and all,” Shane says scathingly.

“I just didn’t want you to be distracted before the game, sweetie. It wouldn’t have done you any good anyhow—”

“How many times do I have to tell you this, Mom? Ilya is more important than some stupid fucking game!” Shane yells this time. “He’s the love of my life, the most important thing in this world to me, and I’m not going to put hockey over him. Not now, not ever! If you can’t understand that, then maybe I need to find someone else who can. Because I am so sick of you acting like my manager when the person I need right now is my Mom.”

She tries to say something else, but Shane doesn’t hear what it is because he hangs up before the words make it through his end of the line. He slams his phone on the bench next to him as he collapses onto it, his elbows falling to his knees as he hunches forward and grips the back of his neck to try and calm down. Within a few seconds, there’s a gentle and hesitant hand on his back.

“You okay?” Troy whispers, moving his hand up and down in tentative strokes across Shane’s skin.

Shane doesn’t answer. He just takes a moment to regulate his breathing, tries to find peace in the white noise of the locker room as his other teammates continue to pack up their stuff around him. When he can stomach opening his eyes again, he risks a look at Troy, finding the other watching him sympathetically while Harris hovers nearby, leaning against the wall.

Everyone else has been kind enough not to stand around, so Shane lets himself collapse face-first into Troy’s shoulder, exhaling a shaky, heavy breath when Troy’s fingers push through his wet hair.

“He’s back home, right? He’s gonna be okay,” Troy reminds him, and Shane nods, trying to take the words as fact. He’d much rather hear the reassurances from Ilya’s lips, but he’s glad he has someone to comfort him like this in the meantime. Troy was a good friend, and so was Harris. Shane wishes that was enough to make him feel better about the fact that his fiancé is severely ill, and nearly three thousand miles away from him, but long distance has never once felt like this.

“Can I pet him?” Shane hears one of the boys—Wyatt, he thinks—ask Harris on the bus ride back to the hotel, but Shane is staring out the window with hazy eyes, and when Troy tries to get his attention, he doesn’t budge.

“Not right now,” Harris says gently. “It’s not a good time.”

“Sorry,” the voice whispers back. “I thought it might help.”

Shane wishes it would. All he needs right now, though, is Ilya.

-

When Ilya awakes from his nap on the couch, he’s groggy, and he has Yuna Hollander sitting across from him staring him down.

“Shane,” Ilya rasps out the first thing that comes to his mind.

“Your boyfriend is very upset with both of us.”

“Husband,” Ilya says on autopilot.

“Fiancé,” she corrects, and well, technically, yes, but he would be Ilya’s husband soon enough, so Ilya might as well get used to saying it.

Ilya coughs and presses his face into his pillow miserably.

“How are you feeling?” She has the decency to ask him.

“Like I have been chewed up and spit back out,” he grumbles, probably incoherently, though it seems to get the message across.

“You shouldn’t have texted your team you were in the hospital,” Yuna sighs, setting out some pills and a fresh bottle of water for him. “It sounds like they told him almost immediately.”

“I just wanted to make sure they are taking care of him in my absence,” Ilya says softly, quietly. “It is…very difficult to be away from him. Especially for hockey. He does not take losses very well.”

“Yes, well,” Yuna replies almost stiffly. “He’s been playing professionally for ten years now. I think he’s capable of taking care of himself.”

Ilya scoffs before he can help it, but he schools his face a little when he catches Yuna’s raised eyebrows. “I do not mean any disrespect, but…” Ilya trails, testing the waters before he continues. “I do not think punishing himself with unhealthy levels of gym time and restriction qualify as taking care of himself.”

“What do you mean?” Yuna’s eyebrows pinch together, and Ilya isn’t sure he can have this conversation sober, so he stretches in order to reach for the pain pills, wincing slightly at how much the effort sets him back. “Here,” she offers, opening the water bottle for him once it’s clear he’s struggling to twist the cap off.

Ilya swallows the pills and takes slow sips of the water to keep from getting more nauseous.

“You were saying?” Yuna prompts, her scrunched-up face looking so much like Shane’s that Ilya has to fight to keep from crying.

Ilya hesitates. “I do not want to sit here and tell you what you do not know about your son.”

“Try me,” Yuna challenges, and Ilya sighs, sinking back into the pillow as the pills work their way through his system.

“I have never met anyone more anxious than Shane.” He coughs heavily, covering his mouth with his arm. “He is extremely hard on himself. I have seen how personally he takes losses, or even just shots he feels he should not have missed—”

“He’s the best for a reason—”

“He is,” Ilya agrees instantly. “But it is almost to a fault.”

Ilya wants to tell her about how Shane begged him for a punishment the first time they lost together. How he came to Ilya’s room drenched in sweat, two seconds away from collapse after pushing himself too hard in the gym because he could not stomach the fact that he was starting off the season with a losing team.

“He has panic attacks,” Ilya admits softly. “All the time. Not as often, anymore, but they were constant when we first got together. He has shut himself off from everyone for the past ten years because he is terrified of being outed. He is terrified of losing hockey because he thinks it is all he has to offer this world. I have seen him nearly pass out from exhaustion on several occasions, from not eating enough, from working himself to his absolute limit because he would risk everything—his health, his happiness, his sanity—to put hockey first.” Ilya pauses to swallow heavily. “It scares me how much of himself he is willing to compromise to be the best at it. I used to envy him for this,” Ilya admits. “But, now. Now, that I have seen it up close…I am so scared. I will not watch him destroy himself for a sport that would do nothing for him in return if they found out the truth. He is…better now. In therapy,” Ilya mentions. “But, still. I worry what will happen when I am not there to talk him off that ledge. I could not live with myself if he got hurt. Especially if there is a way I could have prevented it somehow.”

When he looks up, Yuna is staring at him with a complicated look in her eyes, like maybe she’s beginning to realize that Hockey Star Shane Hollander isn’t any different than the scared little boy she used to drive to Mini Mites when he was just five years old.

He may not be little anymore, but he was still scared. Ilya had seen him tremble with fear every time someone or something threatened one of his very carefully laid out plans. Ilya saw the way his thoughts could spark up one by one, multiplying, and banding together until they were strong enough and big enough to form a fully-fledged weapon inside of him. A weapon powerful enough to take everything Ilya has built between them and whisk it all away. He’s become an expert at Shane’s special language to disarm it, has studied the way it resets and comes to life almost as quickly as it could be defused. Ilya means no offense to Yuna Hollander, but by now, he considered himself to be a Shane anxiety bomb technician. He would never tell her how to do her job as a mother, but he would also not consider it wise to assume Shane was capable of taking care of himself. Or at least, he certainly wasn’t willing to leave it up to chance.

Before she can say anything else, Ilya’s phone is lighting up in a fury next to him. He and Yuna both make eye contact with the knowledge that it’s most definitely a phone call from a very furious Shane. Ilya reaches quickly to grab it, but he glances up at her before he answers, his finger hovering over the accept button.

“Go ahead,” she nods. “He’s worried sick about you.”

Ilya takes a breath into his aching lungs and brings the phone up to his ear, unable to help his faint smile at Shane’s shaky, angry voice. He closes his eyes and soaks in the sound, wishing Shane was right here next to him to lure him to sleep.

“Ilya? Hello? Are you even fucking listening to me?”

“Hm?” Ilya jerks a little. “Mm, no. I was just enjoying the sound of your voice,” he says around a weak cough.

“Stop trying to sweet-talk me when I’m mad at you,” Shane grumbles back.

Ilya wasn’t trying to sweet-talk Shane at all, but his lips lift a little higher at the fact that it definitely seems to be working. “My little sugar plum.”

“Ilya,” Shane sighs heavily. “Do you know how upset you would have been if I went to the hospital while you were gone and didn’t tell you?”

Ilya’s heart lurches uncomfortably at the thought, the smile dropping from his face. “I did not want to stress you out before the game. I do not need you worrying over me when you need to focus.”

“So, you told all the guys except me? Seriously?” Shane scoffs.

Ilya sniffles and shakes his head. “I am stupid. What do you want me to say? Please do not be mad at me. And do not be mad at your mother. Was my idea not to tell you.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Shane replies with a small exhale. “I’m just worried. Going to the hospital is serious. Tell me you wouldn’t have been freaking out if the situation were in reverse.”

“I would be losing my mind,” Ilya agrees. “I’m sorry. I was so out of it this morning. I was not thinking clearly. Please, Shane. I don’t want to fight with you. I am already missing you so much.” He presses his cheek further into the pillow and wipes a stray tear from his eye. Whether it’s from the sickness or from missing him, Ilya isn’t sure, but he blinks in surprise when Yuna hands him a tissue, regardless. He carefully takes it from her and presses it to his face.

There’s a pause on Shane’s end, and then a shaky inhale. “I miss you so much, too. I just want you to be okay.”

“How is my kitten?” Ilya asks desperately, because he needs to know that Shane’s okay, too. That he isn’t just putting on a brave face.

“I—everything’s fine,” he says, but by the tone of his voice, Ilya doesn’t believe him. “Tell me about you. How are you feeling? Did the fluids help?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Ilya appeases, even while blowing his nose into the tissue. “Everything is okay over here, I promise. Your mother is being very good to me, and your father is coming over soon so we can all watch your game. We are going to cheer so loud when you win.”

“Ilya,” Shane argues, and he sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. “Be serious. We’re not going to—”

“Hey,” Ilya cuts him off firmly, using a hint of his Dom voice. “What did I just say?” He asks. “We are going to cheer so loud when you win. You did not get hat trick last game, so you still owe me.”

“I scored twice—”

“Ah, is not hat trick,” Ilya fires back. “I am going to need a hat trick from you for at least two of these next four games, yes?”

“Ilya—”

“Shane, you are making me use my sore throat to argue over something so stupid. You are a better player than anyone on…stupid team Los Angeles—I do not even know what they are called.”

It pulls a laugh from Shane through the phone.

“You do not need me to win this, okay?”

Another pause. And then, “Fuck. I miss you.” Shane lets out a heavy breath. “I slept with your bear last night,” he gets out quietly.

Ilya closes his eyes with how badly he wishes he could touch him.

“Showered with your body wash so I smelled like you. Pretended it was your hands in my hair. Washing it. Washing my body,” Shane sighs. “I even tried petting my hair like you do, but it wasn’t the same. It’s not the same without you here.”

“Did you see the note I left?” Ilya nearly whispers.

“Yeah,” Shane smiles with his voice. “I’m gonna bring it to the arena tonight for good luck.”

Ilya clutches his stomach, like his body is physically reacting to being so far away from Shane.

“I wish I had one of your hoodies. Something that smells like you. Other than the bear.”

Ilya smiles at how sweet he is. “There is one in the front pocket of your suitcase, angel.”

“I—” Shane stutters, and then Ilya hears a shuffling sound. “Fuck.” A big inhale. “I love you so much. Thank you—”

“You’re very welcome,” Ilya murmurs. “I love you, too. I am sorry again for earlier. I promise not to keep things from you again, okay?”

“You sound really sick still,” Shane says quietly, almost nervously.

“I am going to be better by the time you’re home,” Ilya vows. “I’m going to rest a lot and do everything your mother tells me so that I can spend so much time with you when you are back. And you can tell me all about how you took the team to victory four times in a row.”

Shane giggles softly, and Ilya almost melts at the sound.

By the time they hang up, Yuna is still watching him, but her gaze looks a little less calculating and a lot more soft. Like maybe she’s starting to understand that he and Shane are more than just two idiots in love. They make each other better, complete each other in ways that people may find hard to comprehend, but certainly not hard to see. Anyone who spent enough time around them could testify to that.

Ilya sleeps for another hour before Yuna wakes him, and when he wakes, he’s met with the smell of something he hasn’t had in over a decade. It smells like lapsha, like his Mama’s homemade Russian chicken noodle soup. Ilya sniffles to try and clear his nasal passages and get a better whiff.

“David found the recipe online,” Yuna informs him, once it becomes clear Ilya is looking for the source of the smell. “Thought it might make you feel better if it reminded you of home.”

Generally speaking, Ilya did not really appreciate being reminded of home, but with this…he can’t help the way his lower lip wobbles at the gesture.

“Is very kind of him. He did not have to do that,” Ilya says, while trying not to let his voice shake.

Yuna just sinks to the ground next to him and reaches for his hand. “I’m glad you told me what you said earlier. I don’t think any mother wants to hear that their son isn’t doing as well as they thought, but maybe…maybe I needed to hear it,” she admits. “Maybe I got so caught up in all of this, in Shane Hollander, that I forgot he’s still my baby underneath. And I get why this might be a lot for him to handle. This new—or maybe not so new—thing that you guys are dealing with.” She pauses to look him over carefully. “I’m glad he has you by his side. Looking out for him. I may not understand fully, but…I know how important you are to him. And I can see how important he is to you.” She smiles, glancing around at his and Shane’s beautiful house for a moment. “Thank you for bringing him to Ottawa. I was worried about it at first, the two of you getting a house together so soon, but I know Shane, and he doesn’t take these kinds of things lightly. He’s decided you’re his partner,” she says matter-of-factly. “Which means you’re part of our family now.”

Ilya sniffs as a round of tears pours from his eyes, Yuna squeezing his hand tightly in hers. “I…I do not know what to say,” Ilya replies honestly, because he never expected Yuna Hollander to be sitting next to him, holding his hand while giving Ilya her blessing to marry her son.

“Oh, honey. You don’t have to say anything,” Yuna shakes her head, carding some of his sweaty curls out of his face. “I know you’ve had a tough go of it. I won’t apologize for being protective of my son, but I will apologize for making pre-emptive judgments about you based on a few shoddy articles. You’re so far from the man the media paints you out to be. And you deserve to be surrounded by loved ones. I know I said I’m glad Shane has you by his side, but I’m glad you have him, too.” Her lips curl slightly at the ends. “He is the strongest, most loyal, brave, loving person you will ever have the pleasure of knowing. And, from what I’ve seen, you are worthy of every single bit of that love. I can’t think of anyone in the world who I’d rather have take care of my son.”

Ilya’s face positively crumples at that, his tears pouring out of him like an avalanche that’s been building up for nearly a decade now. He’s thankful for the way Yuna scoops him up and holds him in her arms, Ilya sobbing into her shoulder as she rubs his shaking back. He doesn’t tell her that this is all he’s wanted for as long as he can remember, doesn’t explain the way he fell in love with Shane’s freckles the very first time he saw him. Doesn’t try to get across his insurmountable feelings for Shane, and that he was willing to cross oceans and mountains to get to him—based on the way she was hugging him close to her chest, Ilya was pretty sure she already knew.

“Everything alright out here?” David steps into the living room, wearing one of Shane’s cute aprons that he always liked to wear when he was cooking.

Ilya is so comforted by the fact that he’s around people who look, and talk, and act exactly like Shane. It makes him feel like Shane is not so far away, after all. Like a piece of Shane is very much still right here with him. Taking care of him. Loving him. It’s not hard to see why his Shane ended up the way he did. It’s obvious that Yuna and David have played a huge part in shaping the man that he is today. The man that Ilya is critically and overwhelmingly in love with.

“Oh, you know,” Yuna says dismissively as she pulls away. “Just having a heart-to-heart with my future son-in-law,” she smiles, reaching up to wipe at Ilya’s tear tracks with her thumb.

“We always wanted two hockey stars,” David jokes, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder as she looks up at him.

“We must be master manifesters,” she says back with a twinkle in her eye.

Ilya sniffles and offers both of them a teary smile. “I think I must be one, too. I am not sure what Shane has told you about my family, but…I feel very lucky to have you both in my life. I did not ever think I would have something as good as this. He is…he is the best thing to ever happen to me. And I am very grateful to you two for being the reason he exists.”

They look at each other for a second, and then before Ilya knows it, he’s in a Hollander sandwich, both of them hugging him like he truly is one of their sons. Like he’s just as important to them as Shane is.

After a few more sniffles and a lot more tears, they spread out across the couch. Ilya is fully expecting the Hollanders to set up camp on one of the other couches while they eat dinner and wait for the game to start, but Yuna complains about the view, so she just picks Ilya’s legs up, places them over her lap, and uses his shins as a place to rest her bowl like it’s nothing. Like they’ve spent enough time together by now that this is normal. Just family being family.

Ilya smiles at how domestic it all is, and his heart soars with the thought of getting to have this with Shane, too, next time he’s home. Ilya wonders if the Hollanders already have plans for Christmas. Maybe Shane wants to get a big tree for the living room and deck the whole house out with lights. Ilya’s family has never celebrated Christmas in the Western sense, but he makes a mental note to ask Shane about it when he returns. Now that he has a new family, he’s more than happy to conform to new traditions. The Hollanders seem like the type to wear matching pajamas and open presents together on Christmas morning like Ilya has seen people do in all those classic Christmas movies. His stomach flutters in excitement.

When the game finally starts, Ilya sets the remainder of his soup down on the table next to him so that he can fully focus on his Shane. It looks like Troy is giving him a pep-talk as they head out onto the ice for the first face-off. He’s got Troy and Luca on either side of him, both of them looking zeroed in, like they were ready to defend Shane with their lives if it came down to it—which Ilya really appreciates. He’s not at all surprised when Shane wins the face-off.

What is surprising, however, is the fact that Shane scores immediately. Ilya’s eyes go wide as he snaps his head in the direction of the Hollanders. Did Shane just…

“Did he just break a record?” Yuna blurts out before Ilya can say anything. “How many seconds was that?”

Ilya squints at the television, through his incredibly painful sinus headache, and tries to make out the numbers.

“Shane Hollander with a record-breaking time for fastest goal on an opening puck drop! That’s right, folks. Shane Hollander has just made National Hockey League history here tonight with a time of 4 seconds, marking the absolute fastest goal to ever start a game. The record was previously tied across four players, who each held a time of 5 seconds. Not a bad way to start the game for the Ottawa Centaurs tonight,” the announcer croons.

“Holy shit,” Ilya blurts, as Yuna and David let out loud cheers, hugging each other excitedly. He watches on screen as the boys go absolutely wild from the bench, banging their sticks, and practically tackling Shane as he makes his way back over the boards. Ilya feels an ache in his chest that’s part pride, part longing—the part of him that wishes he could be there to celebrate with him.

Whatever Ilya said to him on the phone clearly worked because Shane doesn’t let up after that. In fact, he puts himself forward tenfold. By the second period, Shane’s already earned his hat trick, and Ilya uses up every ounce of his energy to rise to his feet and whoop at the top of his lungs. His blood is pumping hot in his veins. He feels on top of the world for more reason than one: firstly, he was engaged to someone who would no doubt go down as the best hockey player in history; second, Shane had, hopefully, proven to himself what he was capable of; and third, Shane had followed Ilya’s instructions to perfection. He was so fucking good. Ilya would have to figure out a way to reward him somehow later, but for now, he just grins from ear to ear and collapses back onto the couch, eyes glinting as the Hollanders share in his excitement.

They end up winning the game 5 – 1. And suddenly, Shane has put their team back on the map. They’d been off-and-on until now, winning some, and, quite often, still losing some, but beating a team like Los Angeles—one of the best in the League right now—would not go unnoticed.

Ilya is fucking exhausted from how much effort he’s put into actively watching, feeling the symptoms of his sickness start to creep up on him again as he’s rid of his temporary distraction. Yuna offers him more soup, but he doesn’t trust his stomach to keep it down right now, so he requests a cup of tea instead. David is still watching the TV screen when Yuna departs from the spot between them.

“You must be so proud,” Ilya offers, because he’s bursting with the need to boast about Shane. He badly wishes he could be there with Shane to tell him himself.

David breaks into one of his usual closed-lip smiles, but when he turns slightly, Ilya can see the happy tears in his eyes. “My hockey career never really went anywhere,” he reveals, glancing back at the TV where Shane is still being hounded by the rest of the Centaurs, all of them wearing huge smiles on their faces. “Having Shane achieve something like this…” he shakes his head. “It’s just as rewarding as if I’d done it myself,” he laughs, wiping at his eyes. “I guess it’s true what they say about kids. He really is my greatest accomplishment.”

Ilya smiles right back at him, his own eyes a little misty around the edges. “Yes, well. I hope to know the feeling one day.”

David meets his eyeline then, offering him a serious look. “You will.” He looks him over carefully, his expression softening when Ilya sneezes violently into his arm. “Feeling any better after the hospital?”

Ilya shrugs, blowing his nose into a tissue. “A bit, but. I do not get sick like this. Is terrible to sit here all day doing nothing.”

David nods in consideration, his gaze following Ilya’s back to the TV. “I can imagine it’s not fun to watch your team win without you.”

“Mm, I do not mind that. They are good guys. Talented. They have been working hard this entire season for that win,” he says proudly, though his smile turns sad a half second later. “I just wish I could be there with Shane. This is a big moment for him. One he will remember for the rest of his life. I want to celebrate him. Share this with him.” Ilya sighs and ducks his head. “I dunno. Maybe is stupid,” he sniffles, lying back into his pillow.

“Not at all,” David assures him, his voice a solid anchor for Ilya to tether himself to. “I’m sure Shane wishes you were there with him, too. Actually, I know he does.” He chuckles, and Ilya’s eyebrows furrow in confusion before he realizes that his phone is coming to life on the table next to him, and as Ilya takes a few seconds to process that, his necklace starts lighting up as well.

Ilya scrambles for the phone and presses it furiously to his ear.

“Did you see—”

“Did I see?” Ilya laughs happily. “Of course I fucking saw. Oh my god. Baby, are you fucking kidding me?”

“Fastest opening-whistle goal in—”

“In league history,” Ilya finishes, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I scored a hat trick,” Shane says breathlessly, but Ilya can hear his smile.

“You are the best hockey player in the whole world. Fuck, Shane. I am so proud of you.” Ilya grins as tears prick at his own eyes. He turns to look over at David, catching sight of Yuna returning with two mugs of tea over his shoulder. “Shane, I am with your parents. I’m putting you on speakerphone.”

“Shane?” Yuna says, her voice full of joy as she sets their drinks down on the table and rushes to sit. “Oh, honey, we are so proud of you. We saw the whole thing. But it was so fast. We barely knew what was happening!”

“Shane, you were absolutely incredible,” David calls out. “The whole game. Just a masterclass in hockey, all-around. We really could not be prouder.”

“Thank you,” Shane laughs, and there are voices all around him. “Hey, I still have to do some interviews and stuff, but um, I love you so much. I just wanted to give you guys a call before—”

“Hollzy! Hollzy! Hollzy!” A loud chant starts up in the background.

“You go enjoy yourself. We love you, okay?” Yuna tells him. “Be safe tonight.”

“Love you,” David echoes.

Be safe, Ilya thinks to himself. What the hell could Shane possibly need to be safe with tonight?

“Ilya, are you there?”

He shakes himself out of his stupor. “Yes, моя любовь. I am here.”

-

“Я тебя люблю,” Shane presses against the receiver, hoping that Ilya can feel it with all his might.

“Я люблю тебя так сильно, что это чувство поглощает меня целиком. С каждым днём я люблю тебя всё больше и больше — если это вообще возможно.”

Shane blinks a few times, pressing his finger to his free ear as if it will help to keep the noise from distracting him, but Ilya is saying words he simply does not understand. “Okay, I didn’t get most of that,” he laughs, rubbing the sweat from some of his blushing face, because he’s pretty sure Ilya has just said something mind-numbingly romantic.

“I will text it to you,” Ilya hums, and Shane can hear the hint of amusement in his voice, even behind how sick he is.

“Wait—” Shane intercepts. “I— send it to me in a voice note. I want to see if I can figure it out.”

A sneeze, and then a sniffled laugh. “You are ridiculous. Go do your fancy interviews so I can watch them tomorrow when I am missing you terribly. Tell them please make in high resolution.” He sounds like he’s pouting. It just makes Shane miss him that much more.

“I will.” Shane shakes his head in amusement. He presses a kiss into the phone, and smiles when Ilya does the same. “It’s late for you. You should get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow before we hit the road.”

“Please do.” And then, softer, “You did so good tonight. Мой самый лучший мальчик.”

Shane’s heart races in his chest. He touches his lips to the phone one more time and hopes Ilya’s Shane telepathy powers are working properly given his current limitations. He hangs up after that because the boys are hounding him, and if he stays on the phone any longer, he might never get off it.

“Alright, alright! Since Rozy’s not here, allow me to do the honors,” Wyatt announces to the entire team as they gather around him in the locker room. “To our Golden Boy Superstar and the absolute legacy he’s going to leave behind,” he pauses, grinning at Shane. “We are so honored to have you playing with us this year, and I have no doubt that you’re going to lead us all the way to the Stanley Cup. So, without further ado, I bestow upon you: the record-breaking puck. There’s nothing special about it at all, except for the fact that it was lucky enough to touch Shane Hollander’s stick!”

The boys all cheer loudly as Wyatt offers up the puck to him, kissing Shane wetly on the cheek.

Shane laughs and winces under the affection, reaching to wipe some of Wyatt’s slobber off of him while he proudly takes the puck and displays it for all to see.

“Hollzy! Hollzy! Hollzy!” The chants start up again, Troy pulling him into a headlock while ruffling his sweaty hair.

“Hockey player of all time!”

“One of the greats!”

“We’re going out to celebrate tonight!”

Shane can barely hear over the sound of blood pumping in his ears, his fingers twitching with the need to call Ilya back so he can be a part of this. All Shane knows is that he couldn’t have done this without him. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to do it if he were still floundering around with his old team back in Montreal. And really, the only reason he did do it is because Ilya told him to, and Shane had wanted to make him proud.

He has made him proud, Shane reminds himself, because they’d already won one of four games this week, and he’d gotten the hat trick, just like Ilya had wanted. Shane still feels his presence all around as he does his interviews, fighting not to bring up Ilya’s name despite how badly he wants to. It doesn’t stop him from winking at one of the cameras towards the end, his fingers intentionally wrapped up in the chain around his neck, hiding the pendant from view just so no one can hyperfixate on it. Well, no one except his fiancé at least.

When they get back to the hotel, Shane changes into one of the cute outfits Ilya had picked out for him ahead of their Away week. It’s a crushed velvet, short-sleeve, black button-down shirt, some dark jeans, and one of Ilya’s black Balenciaga hats, which he turns backwards on his head. He spritzes himself with Ilya’s cologne before meeting Troy down in the lobby.

“There he is,” Troy whistles loudly when Shane appears. “Wait, you look so good. Let me take a picture.”

“What, why?” Shane laughs, his lips curling slightly as Troy snaps a few.

“Oh, no reason. Just your very needy husband begging me non-stop for pictures of you.”

Shane blushes at his use of the word ‘husband.’ Shane and Ilya had started referring to each other that way more often, and some of the boys were beginning to pick up the habit as well.

“Hey, there’s our record breaker!” Harris says excitedly, strolling over to them. “Did you talk to Ilya yet? I bet he’s so proud.”

“Yeah,” Shane sighs forlornly. “I just wish he was here.”

“Don’t worry,” Troy assures, cozying up to Shane with an arm around his waist. Shane slips into the gesture by hanging his arm over Troy’s shoulders. “We’re going to give you lots of pets later tonight when you’re drunk and dying for it.” He breaks into a cheesy grin, and Shane’s stomach flutters with want. Not as badly as he wants Ilya’s pets, but…Troy was a good buddy.

“Not too drunk,” Harris warns, like he’s hyper-aware of the fact that he’s sort of in charge of keeping an eye on Shane.

“Yup. I am not getting in trouble with Rozy again,” Bood grins as the rest of the team crowds around them in the lobby. “Guys, we better watch this kitten with our lives.”

Shane lets out a surprised laugh when the other guys murmur their agreement.

“No kitten panic attacks,” Wyatt pleads, pressing his hands together and closing his eyes like he’s praying to the heavens up above. “Just a fun, safe night celebrating our boy.”

Shane’s glad Ilya’s not around to hear them talk like this, sure that he wouldn’t take too kindly to anyone referring to Shane as their boy except him.

Upon arriving to the bar, a shot is immediately pressed into Shane’s hand. He takes it without question when Troy pushes his elbow up towards his face. They have a travel day tomorrow, but no game, so there’s really no reason to hold back. It wasn’t like he could scene with Ilya later either, since his poor, sick baby would be sound asleep by the time Shane got back, especially considering the time difference. So, he allows Troy to feed him another shot. And then, another. Until Shane is surfing through the room by placing his hand from shoulder to shoulder, trying to keep his balance.

He gets all the way up to the bar, throwing himself against it while he raises his hand and waits for a bartender to notice him. Before that can happen, however, Shane turns to find a mildly familiar face staring him down. The guy’s eyebrows furrow for a second, and then soften in recognition.

“Wow, um. Hi. Hey. Shane, right?”

Shane’s cheeks start to turn pink when he realizes who it is. The businessman he’d tried, and failed, to hook up with back when Rose first clocked him for being gay. Shane had fled from his hotel room in a panic while the guy was in the bathroom, running down the hallway to the elevator and eventually taking the stairs two at a time when it took too long to arrive. He’d been so scared of being caught, of being outed. Shane doesn’t think the guy knew who he was at the time, but he certainly seems to know who he is in this moment, almost like he’s just now putting the pieces together.

“Uh, great game,” he gets out, gesturing to one of the TVs where announcers are still discussing it in a post-game review. “Congrats on the record. You must be stoked.”

“Yeah,” Shane says, a little too loudly as he offers the man a jerky nod. Corey, he thinks his name is.

Corey risks a glance over his shoulder at the rest of Shane’s team before redirecting his attention when the bartender comes over.

“Hey, I’ve got his drink,” Corey tells the man, tipping his head in Shane’s direction. “Whatever he wants. Put it on my tab.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

The bartender gives him a bored look, like maybe Shane has interfered with a bet of his tonight by beating their home team, so to avoid the discomfort of having to talk to him for any longer, Shane lets his shoulders sag in defeat.

“Just, um. Vodka, please. Your highest quality.”

Corey smirks and raises his own glass of clear liquid to Shane. “Your drink’s different than I remember,” he notices, like maybe everything from that night is starting to come back to him.

Shane shuffles awkwardly under his gaze, accepting the drink with a muttered thanks as the bartender passes it over to him.

Corey leans a little closer, clearing his throat. “So, um. Are you staying nearby?”

Shane pulls his drink to his lips to avoid having to answer, chugging half the liquor in one go with the hopes that it will somehow make this conversation any easier. But the only other man he’s been with is sitting right in front of him, possibly propositioning him, and all Shane wants to do is scream from the rooftops that he’s taken. He has someone already. Another man who he would do anything for. A man who would do anything for him.

“Well—” Shane starts, but he’s interrupted by Harris before he can say anything else.

“Hey,” Harris says, his face twisted in concern as he looks between Shane and the man in front of him. “Everything okay over here?” He places a hand on Shane’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Shane relents, sinking into his touch. “I was just, um. I—” he stutters, drawing a blank when he looks at Corey once again.

“We’re all good here, man. Just catching up with an old friend,” he smiles, taking a swig of his drink.

“You know this guy, Shane?” Harris asks, eyes darting back and forth.

“Sort of,” Shane splutters, taking a small step back.

“Okay…” Harris replies slowly, like he doesn’t like the sound of that. “Why don’t you go back over and sit with Troy, yeah?”

“Seriously, dude. We’re fine,” Corey tells Harris, raising his eyebrows. “There a problem?”

“No problem,” Harris offers him a smile in return. “We’re just a little protective over our star player. Got a long week of games ahead of us.”

“He’s in good company,” Corey huffs a laugh.

“Yo, are you fucking bothering my boy here?” Wyatt comes thundering in all of a sudden, standing to his full height as he sizes Corey up. “He’s celebrating with his team tonight. Got it? You can back off now.”

“He wasn’t doing anything wrong…” Shane mutters, because he feels bad.

“Shane,” Troy says, appearing at his side. “What are you doing? You left, and you said you’d be right back,” he whines, grabbing onto Shane’s hand.

Corey averts his gaze momentarily, but Shane doesn’t miss the eye roll he tries to keep to himself. He shifts to pull out his wallet, taking out a card and sliding it across the bar to Shane. “Look, here’s my number. Why don’t you give me a call sometime when you’re more available?”

Harris grabs the card before Shane can. “I’ll hold onto that for him. Just so he doesn’t misplace it.” He shoves the card into his pocket, flashing Corey a tight-lipped smile.

Corey just stares at him for a second, and then scoffs, rolling his eyes again as he flags down the bartender to close his tab.

“Do you know that guy?” Troy whispers into his shoulder, blue eyes roaming from Corey back over to Shane.

“I—it’s a long story,” Shane shakes his head, because he doesn’t think he has the vocabulary to put it into words right now.

“Let me take this from you,” Harris says while gently removing Shane’s drink from his hand.

“Why?” Shane frowns, even as he leans a bit more of his weight onto Troy.

“Because something tells me Rozy isn’t going to take too kindly to someone buying you a drink, yeah?” Harris tells him seriously. “Plus, you look like you could use a glass of water.”

Shane wants to argue, but Troy is tugging on his arm again before he can, so Shane just nods in defeat. He’s not having as much fun drinking as he would with Ilya anyway, and the thought of having to nurse his hangover alone with no one to rub his back if he ends up having to throw up is enough to convince him he should probably be done for tonight. So, he allows Harris to get him a glass of water, and then follows Troy back to the table where the rest of the guys are still waiting for them.

“God damn,” Wyatt shakes his head. “No wonder Rozy is always freaking out. These dudes are fucking hounding you.”

Harris sighs his agreement, resting his elbows on the table as soon as he gets back from disposing of Shane’s drink. “It’s a full-time job.”

“Harris, my man! Honorary Dom. You’re doing awesome, by the way,” Bood hollers from across the table. “You’re like a mini Ilya in training. You’ll have to give me some tips after we round out this week. I mean, you’re technically on double-duty, no?” He wonders, tipping his head in the direction of Troy and Shane, who are leaned in close, murmuring to each other about something.

Harris lets out a small laugh and shrugs. “I don’t know about that. I mean, Troy isn’t…”

But at the sound of his name, Troy looks up abruptly, his eyes big and wide like a puppy dog’s.

“I’m not what?” He asks innocently, his blue-eyed gaze darting between them.

“Nothing,” Harris smiles, reaching for him to pull him closer, and subsequently, Shane as well. Since the two of them are practically attached at the hip right now. “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Troy beams at him, and Shane feels the hole in his chest grow a little larger, his lower lip jutting out slightly unbeknownst to him. He only realizes it when Luca appears at his side with a soft smile.

“Hi, Shane,” he says lightly, and Shane smiles back at him, tipping his head.

“Hi, Luca,” he replies, eyebrows furrowing a bit when Luca looks just past him to Harris. Shane frowns in confusion and turns to follow his gaze.

“I—um,” Luca stutters nervously, but he’s still looking at Harris. “I was wondering if I could maybe, you know…pet you?” He gets out, eyes flickering between him and Harris. “It’s just…you looked a little sad, so,” he frowns, chewing at his lower lip. “I thought maybe you just wanted some attention.”

Shane’s expression softens at the question because Luca’s not wrong. He had been a little sad and maybe wanting some attention—not necessarily from Luca, per se, but he supposed beggars could not be choosers. Shane turns briefly to make eye contact with Harris as well, a question in Harris’ eyes that Shane answers with a look of his own.

“Hey,” Troy whines, suddenly bursting out of Harris’ grip to latch onto Shane’s shoulders. “I thought I was the only one who was allowed to pet him!”

“Troy,” Harris says seriously. “Personal space, remember? You’re not the only one who’s allowed to pet Shane. You’re just the only one who has blanket permission from Ilya.”

“Blanket permission,” Troy grumbles, reluctantly pulling his arms away and crossing them over his chest. “I don’t need a blanket to be able to pet him.”

“Luca, if Shane says it’s okay, then you’re good to go ahead, alright?” Harris informs the other, while trying to wrangle Troy back under his arm.

“Really?” Luca’s eyes go bright and then settle on Shane once more. “Can I, Shane? I promise I’ll pet you really nice,” he begs, linking his fingers together in a pleading motion.

Shane’s heart yearns for Ilya. He looks around at the crowded bar and realizes he’s never felt more alone. His eyes drift to Harris and Troy, who are now gazing at each other with literal heart eyes. Bood and Wyatt are laughing their asses off at something Dykstra’s just said. Even Holmberg and LaPointe are over in a corner trying to chat up some girls. And when Shane glances back at Luca, he’s just watching him with this hopeful look on his face, like there’s nothing he wants more than to make Shane feel better right now. So, Shane swallows thickly and gives him a jerky nod, practically collapsing forward into Luca’s arms because the thing he actually needs most right now is a hug. Just…not from Luca.

Still, he can’t deny how good it feels to have someone hold him. Tentatively, like Luca isn’t sure what the best way to handle an armful of kitten is. Ilya would know. Ilya would hold him so good. He shuts his eyes tightly and buries his face in Luca’s neck, tries to drown out the noise around him and focus on the gentle fingers in his hair, tries to pretend the cologne he’s smelling is much closer to the one on the bear back in his hotel room. Fuck. What’s the point of celebrating this stupid record if Ilya isn’t here to celebrate with him?

“It’s okay,” Luca says carefully, like he maybe recognizes the headspace Shane is in right now. “I know you’re missing him, but…you have us in the meantime,” he murmurs, scratching Shane a little better now.

Shane arches up into the touch, the corners of his lips curling at the reassurance.

“There,” Luca laughs softly. “That’s better, right? Am I doing it like Troy does, at least?”

“Hey,” Wyatt says all of a sudden, causing Shane to jerk back out of Luca’s arms in surprise. “What the hell is going on here?”

Shane’s heart speeds a little in his chest, wide, brown eyes looking up at Wyatt in alarm, but at Wyatt’s next words, he heaves a sigh of relief.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me we could give out pets?”

Harris looks over and rolls his eyes at Wyatt’s abrupt question. “Because. Luca asked, and Shane said it was okay. Probably because he didn’t rush over screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding to be allowed.”

“Ouch,” Wyatt frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as some of the other guys’ attention is pulled to where a group is slowly forming around them.

“I don’t think everyone should pet him here,” Troy whispers to Harris, glancing at Shane.

Harris looks Shane over in contemplation and then takes a cursory scan of their surroundings. “Yeah, guys, this isn’t a good place for this. Plus, it’s getting late. We’ve got a long week of travel and games ahead of us. Maybe we should all call it a night and head back to the hotel.”

Shane feels his stomach drop at the thought of going back to his lonely, empty hotel room to nurse his spinning head alone. He clutches onto Luca a bit more tightly, but makes no move to work his way back into Luca’s arms. He flinches when he feels a different hand on his back.

“Shane.” Troy’s eyebrows pinch in concern. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Shane says on autopilot, forcing a smile, because he is. He’s fine, really. He’s just missing his husband on one of the most important nights of his career—his husband who’s sick at home in bed, having just come out of the hospital—and he knows he still isn’t going to get to see him for at least another week. “I’m okay, just. Water, probably.”

Harris is pushing the glass of water into his hand before he can even finish his sentence.

“Thanks,” Shane practically whispers, and he’s still holding onto the fabric of Luca’s shirt as he swallows half of it in one go.

“You alright?” Luca asks him with a worried expression.

When Shane looks up, he notices that most of the guys are watching him similarly.

“I’m okay,” he huffs a sigh, forcing himself to let go of Luca fully this time and take a sure step back. “Fuck. I’m fine, okay? Jesus. Can we just get the fuck out of here? I’m tired, and I want to go home.”

If the rest of his team catch his slip-up, they certainly don’t comment on it, instead choosing to migrate to the bar to close out their tabs. Harris is hovering nearby, though, and he sidles up to Shane when the group of them disperse, reaching into his pocket to pull out the business card he’d taken from Corey earlier.

“I’m going to assume you don’t need this, right?” Harris questions, raising his eyebrows.

Shane shakes his head minutely, letting his eyes go hazy as he stares at a spot of cracked wood on the table in front of him.

“You’re allowed to miss him, you know?” Harris says next. “You’re allowed to wish he was here.”

Shane straightens up immediately and locks eyes with Harris. “I’m fine,” he assures the other seriously because he really doesn’t feel like being psycho-analyzed right now. Sure, he was missing Ilya, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t survive one week without him.

And if he falls asleep with his face buried in Ilya’s hoodie, listening to Ilya’s sniffly Russian voice note on a loop…well…no one has to know.

-

On their flight to Vegas the next morning, Shane opts to sit with Luca. He tries to ignore the sad puppy dog eyes Troy keeps shooting him from across the aisle, but Shane honestly can’t stand to sit next to him and Harris today. Not after having to stomach waking up alone this morning. If anything, it’s getting harder, not easier, not having Ilya here with him.

He already tried to call Ilya before they had taken off, but he’d gotten Ilya’s voicemail, so Shane left a text instead. A promise to call him as soon as they landed. It’s only a short flight. Still, his eyes are drifting shut before they’ve even taken off, and Luca, like the very generous and perceptive teammate he is, taps Shane lightly on the arm to offer his shoulder as a pillow.

Shane almost says no, just because he feels like he should, but before the words can leave his lips, he finds himself nodding. Apparently, physical touch was becoming quite important to his emotional regulation. He just wasn’t really accustomed to getting it from people other than Ilya.

“Do you want me to pet your hair a bit?” Luca whispers to him as Shane is getting settled with his cheek pressed to Luca’s shoulder. His shoulders aren’t as big as Ilya’s, but the fabric of his hoodie is soft and smells like vanilla cinnamon. Like the tea his mom used to make for him when he was little. He wonders if it’s the same tea she’s been making for Ilya back at the house.

“You don’t have to,” Shane mumbles because he really doesn’t want to be a bother. He’s about to knock out anyway, but Luca just shakes his head and smiles like it’s no trouble at all, and before Shane knows it, there’s a hand in his hair. The pets are jerky and not quite right, mostly because of the angle; Shane is hungover, though, and not in the mood to talk or think, so he shouldn’t be surprised when it knocks him out, regardless.

Once they land, the first thing he does is check his phone, but it’s just his mom wondering if they’ve made it in yet. Ilya’s still asleep. Apparently, he was up all night, suffering through his fever and more bouts of nausea. Shane tries not to feel hurt that Ilya didn’t call him, tries to rationalize that Ilya probably wasn’t in a position to pick up the phone, or maybe he just didn’t want to impede on Shane’s evening. Shane fights against every fiber of his being to go right back into the airport and hop on the next flight back to Canada.

They’ve got the day off, so as soon as they get to the hotel, Shane goes into active recovery mode. It’s what he used to do on the road back when he was playing with Montreal. If Ilya were here, they might explore the pool or take a long nap, but Shane’s got a long week of games ahead of him, and with the first win under his belt, there’s only more pressure to keep up his streak.

He heads to the gym first for twenty minutes of cycling to warm up his stiff joints. Then, he goes straight into yoga, doing his mobility drills just like his trainer taught him. He works on his muscles next with a foam roller, massaging all the tight spots in his calves, his quads, his glutes. Finally, he finishes off with a shower, alternating between one minute of hot water and thirty seconds of cold water to stimulate blood circulation. By the time he’s done, he feels focused. Ready to play another winning game tomorrow. Still no calls from Ilya.

“Hi, babe. It’s me,” Shane says into his phone after getting Ilya’s voicemail once again. “I’m at the hotel in Vegas. Just wanted to check in on you and see how you’re feeling.” He swallows, trying not to let his voice give away just how worried he feels. “My mom said you were up pretty late last night, so um…” Shane sighs. “Look, you can call me if you need to, okay? Even if it’s late for you, you’re still three hours ahead, so don’t worry about waking me. I understand if you don’t feel like being on the phone, but…just—” Shane pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just let me know you’re okay, yeah? I’m thinking of you, and missing you, and I love you so much. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

He forces himself to hang up before he can say anything else because his lower lip is already wobbling at the thought of Ilya small, sick, and alone in their bed. But he refuses to cry. He’s a grown man on a work trip with a job to do—one that he’s done on his own a million times before. It’s Wednesday. They fly home on Tuesday. Just six days and three games to go.

-

When Ilya wakes on Wednesday morning, it’s not morning at all. He doesn’t know this, of course, because of the blackout curtains, but by the pain he feels in his body, he has a strong suspicion that he’s been out for a while. His head is aching with an intensity he’s never felt in his life.

Ilya groans and goes to reach for the water bottle next to his bed, but he’s distracted first by the extra weight on his legs. And when Ilya forces himself into a sitting position to see what could possibly be on top of him right now, he’s met with the sight of bright, glowing green eyes peering back at him.

“Jesus,” Ilya says in surprise, clutching weakly at his chest, but his expression softens when Moose offers him a slow blink.

He’s a lot bigger than the last time Ilya saw him at the Hollanders’ house. He’d only been a kitten at the time—he still is—but, already, he was massive. He’s much more so now, and Ilya’s heart beats loudly in his ears at the thought of his kitten thousands of miles away in Vegas right now.

Ilya coughs weakly, accidentally startling Moose, but the large creature doesn’t go far, instead watching him in curiosity. Ilya wonders if he can tell that something’s missing in this room. Wonders if he can pick up on Shane’s lingering scent, a scent that probably reminded him of the rest of his family—David and Yuna. Ilya supposes he’s technically part of the family too now, so he tentatively reaches his fingers out for Moose to sniff, using up every ounce of energy he has in order to do so.

Moose tips his head at the offering, and then presses himself into a big cat stretch, one that makes Ilya smile despite how queasy and terrible he feels.

“C’mere. Pspsps,” Ilya whispers at him, in hopes of tempting him closer, and before he knows it, there’s a giant, fluffy tuxedo cat planting two big paws on his chest. “Hi kitty,” Ilya murmurs, letting Moose sniff his fingers before Ilya goes to pet him. “Remember me? Last time, I was with Shane at your parents’ house, but he is not here right now. I miss him very, very much,” Ilya tells the cat because he’s pretty sure he speaks fluent cat at this point. At least, it feels like Moose can understand him.

Ilya’s lips curl even further when Moose presses up into his hand, a big, rumbling purr rolling out of him as he climbs further into Ilya’s space, settling all of his weight on top of Ilya’s torso. Ilya grunts slightly at the extra pressure on his sore body, but he knows that if Shane were here, Ilya would want his fiancé on top of him in the exact same way, so he embraces the feeling of warm kitten and soft fur all over him. He lets out a soft laugh when Moose head-butts him next.

Ilya is so wrapped up in the giant cat that he almost doesn’t notice Yuna has stepped into the doorway, not until the door creaks open to trigger his awareness.

“I see Moose found you,” she smiles in greeting, placing a fresh cup of hot tea next to Ilya’s bedside.

“You brought him,” Ilya realizes, scratching behind one of Moose’s black ears.

“It was Shane’s idea,” Yuna explains, perching on the edge of the bed to run her fingers through Moose’s soft fur. “He thought it might make you feel better.”

Ilya’s heart clenches at the idea of Shane asking his mother to bring Moose over just to cheer him up, despite how jealous it must have made him feel. “What time is it? Has he landed yet?” Ilya realizes, turning to look for his phone.

“It’s 4pm,” Yuna says calmly, but it makes Ilya jerk himself into a sitting position.

Moose jumps off of him in an instant, but Ilya doesn’t care. Shane must have landed hours ago. He was probably waiting on a call from him.

“Relax,” Yuna attempts to soothe. “He got in okay. He’s at the hotel.”

“My phone,” Ilya begs because it isn’t on the charger. “My phone. Please. Where is it?”

Yuna reaches into the pocket of her jeans and produces it for him. “It kept ringing, and I didn’t want it to wake you. He’s really worried, but I told him you’re just fine. You needed your rest.”

Ilya coughs weakly into his arm and stretches forward to reach for it, immediately going to his missed calls to dial Shane back. “Shane?” Ilya breathes the moment the line connects.

“Baby,” Shane sighs in relief. “How are you feeling?”

“I am fine,” Ilya replies dismissively. “You are in Vegas? Everything’s okay? The plane was alright?”

“I’m all good,” Shane lets out a soft laugh.

Ilya closes his eyes at the sound.

“I’m at the hotel. Just got back from the gym.”

Ilya feels his blood run cold. “The gym?” He says carefully. “Why are you at the gym? You played great last night.”

“It’s just recovery,” comes Shane’s sweet voice. “I promise I didn’t do anything crazy. A small warm-up on the bike, some yoga, foam rolling, and then hot and cold therapy in the shower. I’m okay, Ilya.”

Ilya swallows and nods. “That’s good. You go to Harris if you start feeling otherwise. Troy or Harris, okay? Promise me.”

Shane is silent for a minute at the other end of the line.

“Shane?” Ilya says again, with a bit more urgency in his voice. “What is it? There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Yuna is still watching him from where she’s perched at the edge of the bed.

“Nothing,” Shane murmurs. “I just…it’s hard being around them right now. They keep kissing, and staring at each other like they’re in love. It’s making me miss you more.”

Ilya pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know, sweetheart. I miss you so much, too. I am so sorry this had to happen this week. You did not drink too much last night, yes? Did not stay out too late?”

“No,” Shane admits. “I mean, a few drinks, but…Harris thought it was a good idea for the team to call it a night. There was…well—” Shane pauses.

“There was what, angel?” Ilya asks softly.

“I don’t want you to freak out.”

Ilya fights very hard to not let his worry consume him. “I am not going to freak out,” he promises. “I am so very calm. You can tell me.”

Another bout of silence, and then, “Okay, um. Remember how I said I had only been with one guy before you? And we kissed a bit in his hotel room, but then I got too scared, so I left.”

Ilya’s eyebrows pinch together. “Yes, I remember.”

“Well, uh. At the bar last night…I ran into him.”

Ilya stops breathing.

“Ilya, just. Listen to me for a second, okay? He recognized me, and he…he tried to ask me back to his hotel. Tried to give me his number. He…he did buy me a drink, but—”

“You let him buy you a drink?” Ilya says in disbelief.

“Only because the bartender was getting really annoyed. I think he lost a bet or something because of me—because of the game—but I swear, I watched him pour it, and…and Harris and Wyatt came over and told the guy to fuck off, okay? I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even drink most of it. We left so soon after that, and I don’t want you to be mad at me—”

“I’m not mad,” Ilya shakes his head. “Not at all. I just…I wish I could have been there to tell him to fuck off myself.”

Shane laughs wetly, but Ilya can hear the shake in his voice. “I shouldn’t have taken the drink. I was a little drunk, and nervous, and I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted him to go away. But, um, then I was missing you. And Troy and Harris were just…I don’t know. Being so fucking…couple-y. Like…fuck. Even if you were there, we couldn’t have done that. Not in public.” He sucks in a breath. “I think Luca noticed, so he asked if he could pet me, and Harris said it was okay…”

“I miss you so much,” Ilya whispers, feeling his chest go tight at the thought of someone else getting to pet his kitten. “I am glad Luca was there for you.”

“I sat next to him on the plane this morning. He…he let me lay on his shoulder because I was really tired, and he pet me some more, but— god. No one makes me feel like you do. All I wanted to do was go goof off in the pool today, but there’s no fucking point if it’s not with you.”

Ilya smiles lightly, pressing the phone closer to his ear like it will somehow make Shane less far away. “I also wish that, милый мальчик. Your mother brought Moose over to see me. Said it was your idea.”

He can hear Shane swallow from the other end. “Did it cheer you up?”

“Course, it cheered me up,” Ilya agrees without question. “You know how much I am missing my kitten. Was very sweet of you.”

Shane lets out a little grumbly growl that pulls a laugh from Ilya.

“Nothing compared to you, baby. I promise. You know you are the number one thing in my life.”

A purr this time. Ilya is so fucking endeared.

Yuna shifts, watching him with slightly furrowed eyebrows like she has a question on the tip of her tongue, but she refrains from saying anything, so Ilya allows himself to stay on the phone a little longer.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day, ангел?” Ilya asks, reaching for his mug of tea next to him. He blows on it before taking a small sip.

“I’m about to go grab lunch with Luca and some of the other rookies. They’re waiting for me down in the lobby.”

“Good,” Ilya nods, setting his mug back down as he sinks lower under the covers. “Please get something good to eat and make sure you are taking care of yourself. You have a long week ahead of you. I need my star player in peak condition. I am expecting another hat trick tomorrow, yes?”

“Ilya—”

“Uh, I do not want to hear it,” Ilya cuts him off. “You did not think you would win last night, and you broke a fucking record, Shane. And got a hat trick. Do not sell yourself short.”

Shane sighs. “How’s your fever? Mom said you were up all night.”

“I have not used the thermometer yet today, but I will let you know as soon as I do,” Ilya vows. “Your parents are being very good to me,” he says, making eye contact with Yuna, whose lips curl in return.

“Well, good. You’re part of the family now. You’re just as much their son as I am.”

Ilya hates how quickly his throat gets tight with emotion. He clears it so as not to let on how close he is to crying. “You should go to lunch, малыш. The boys are probably wondering where you are. But I will keep my phone on me if you want to send any pictures. I saw a couple from Troy last night. You looked very cute.”

Shane giggles softly through the phone. “Thanks. Must have been your hat.”

“Mm, you are cute always, but especially in my clothes.”

Yuna clears her throat discreetly, so Ilya doubles his efforts to get off the phone. He was probably due for his morning medicine, seeing as he must have slept through at least one dose already.

“I love you very much, okay? Promise you will call me later tonight before I go to sleep?”

“Promise,” Shane says back quietly. “Can I text you, too?”

“Of course, you can,” Ilya smiles. “Your mother is trying to give me some medicine, though. I’m sure I have to get something in my stomach in order to do that, so. I will not torture her any longer by forcing her to listen to us profess our undying love to each other.”

“Jesus,” Shane curses. “You could have told me that before.”

Ilya laughs softly.

“I love you. Get better soon for me. I am going to need so much attention when I get home. A week without you feels like a lifetime.”

“I am going to hug you so tight you’ll have bruises for weeks,” Ilya promises. “Tell Luca I said thank you, hm? And Wyatt, Harris, and Troy.”

Shane presses a kiss into the phone that Ilya returns before hanging up, and when he does, he’s left with Yuna Hollander staring him down.

“May I ask what you were talking about? With Troy and Harris and the rest of the guys?” Yuna asks point-blank. At Ilya’s furrowed eyebrows and inquisitive gaze, she clarifies further. “You told me yesterday that my son is not okay. I guess I’m just wondering what exactly he’s going to them for. You said to thank them for you.”

“Oh,” Ilya replies, frowning. “Well…in case he gets anxious. Is hard work being Golden Boy every second of the day. Sometimes, his thoughts get very loud. I do not want him to resort to old coping mechanisms that are unhealthy.”

“Such as what?” She questions.

Ilya reaches for his tea again, wincing when the stretch causes a shooting pain to run through him. “Uh, working himself too hard in the gym. Especially after a game. He could get injured,” Ilya explains, as Yuna produces a thermometer for him. “Restricting his diet. Not getting enough calories.” He pauses when she puts it under his tongue.

The thermometer beeps, and Yuna removes it, squinting down at the number. “101,” she says. “Better than yesterday, but still quite high.” She watches him for a minute, lips pursed, before letting out an exhale. “They’re looking after him, then? Making sure he’s okay, or what?”

Ilya nods quickly, despite how much his head hates him for it.

“And at the bar?” She inquires next. “He thought you would be mad at him for what?”

Ilya swallows, feeling a little uncomfortable with the line of questioning, mostly because he isn’t sure how much Shane wishes for him to share with her. Luckily, her face softens before he can answer.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this an interrogation,” Yuna sighs, reaching up to place her hand on Ilya’s forehead for a minute before it drops back to her side. “I’m just worried about him. You have me wondering what else I missed. Where else I failed him as a mother. How could I not know these things about my own son?”

Ilya sniffles and shakes his head, pausing for a moment to sneeze into his arm. “I do not think you are a failure. Quite the opposite, in fact. I think Shane is very lucky to have you and David both. I…I cannot remember the last time I felt so cared for,” he admits quietly.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Yuna’s expression drops and then turns into one of soft contemplation. “May I ask what happened? To your family,” she clarifies, her face poised like she knows she’s broaching a sensitive topic. “I know you said they passed…”

“Yes,” Ilya replies lowly.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to—”

“No,” Ilya shakes his head. “No, it’s okay,” he relents, sucking in a breath. “My father died of old age. Dementia. Just a few years ago,” he starts with the one that feels the easiest to explain. “We were not very close. We had a complicated relationship,” Ilya admits. “Still, I wish I could have been there more for him. Was difficult playing hockey here while he was slowly starting to lose himself. My older brother had to shoulder most of the burden. I sent money. Paid for his medical bills, but…” Ilya trails off. “I will never get that time back. It is something that will always weigh on me, I think.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Yuna replies, her lips pursed as she watches him. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Ilya sniffs, rubbing at one of his eyes that has suddenly gone a bit drippy around the edges. “He died shortly after my father did. He always had a bit of a drug problem, but it got worse as my father got sicker.” Ilya pauses before continuing. “Unfortunately, he chose to get behind the wheel and got into a wreck. His wife and my niece were both in the car with him.” Ilya leaves out the part about how it had been his money that had paid for the drugs.

Yuna hands him a tissue before he even realizes he’s started crying, his tears leaking out of him uncontrollably as they spill down both of his cheeks.

He takes the tissue gratefully and presses it against his face.

“It sounds like you’ve had a rough couple of years,” she says sympathetically, like she can see just how much pain he holds within himself. “Was your mother around for any of this?”

“No,” Ilya sniffles again, wiping roughly at his eyes. “She died when I was young. I was just twelve years old when I found her.”

There’s a break in the air, like Yuna is holding her breath at the revelation. Like maybe she doesn’t know what to say, or perhaps isn’t sure what’s appropriate to ask.

“She…she was very sad. She swallowed a whole bottle of pills,” Ilya gets out around a choked sob, and before he knows it, he’s being wrapped up in Yuna’s arms.

If it were any other time, Ilya might push her away, assure her that he’s fine, that it’s all in the past, but Ilya doesn’t feel fine right now. He feels fragile, small in a way that he hasn’t felt in years. He doesn’t blame himself for the way he burrows into her chest and lets it all flow out of him. Her scent reminds him of Shane.

“You’re okay,” she says soothingly, while rubbing his back just like his mother used to, so much so that Ilya almost feels like he’s traveled back in time. Like he’s sitting in his childhood bedroom, crying over his first hockey injury. Only, this time, his father isn’t yelling from somewhere in the kitchen. He can’t hear the creak from their broken air vent. Can’t hear Andrei complaining about his homework against the very thin wall that separated their bedroom doors.

Ilya hugs her back tightly and cries into her until his shoulders shake. Until she’s probably covered in a mix of his snot and tears, but Yuna doesn’t seem to care. She’s still rocking him in her arms, still shushing him like it can somehow make all the bad thoughts go away. Like it can somehow heal the years and years’ worth of built-up trauma that he’s buried deep down within him.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that,” she whispers into his hair. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.” She presses a kiss to his forehead and then pulls back slightly, taking the tissue from him to help clean up his face before offering him a teary-eyed smile. “I hope you know that you can come to David or me with anything. I wasn’t kidding when I said we consider you a part of this family now.”

Ilya laughs wetly, nodding while he lets her dote on him. It feels good to be babied, for once—to be taken care of while he’s sick, at a time where it feels totally warranted to let his guard down, and especially because Shane isn’t here for Ilya to take care of. “You have been through way too much loss for someone of your age, but I am sure you’re so much stronger because of it. I think your mother would be incredibly proud of the man you’ve become. I know I would be,” she tells him seriously, holding his face in her hands.

Ilya blinks up at the ceiling to keep from crying again. He doesn’t think Yuna Hollander expected him to turn into a weeping, sobbing mess when she brought up this topic, but he’s placated by the fact that she doesn’t seem to mind. The Hollanders were clearly a warm, loving bunch. It’s so different to the way he remembers his childhood back in Russia.

“It means a lot to hear you say that,” he gets out, his lower lip wobbling. “I…I think she would have loved to meet Shane. I think she would be very honored to know that her necklace lives on his chest.”

Yuna’s lips curve upwards as she tucks some of Ilya’s curls behind his ears. “I’m sure Shane would have loved to meet her as well. We all would have. Maybe one day, you could show us a picture? If you have any.”

Ilya nods jerkily. “I have just a few.” Because most of his memories were long forgotten in Russia by now, but a few pictures remained of his mother. “She was so beautiful, and smart, and funny.” He wipes at his nose again. “She was so sad. And my father was so hard on her.”

Yuna shakes her head and brushes some tears out of her own eyes. “You had such a tough childhood, but I’d never guess it by how you treat Shane. You’re so gentle with him. I guess I didn’t understand why before, but…” she lets out a wet laugh. “I think I understand it now.”

“I can’t lose him,” Ilya explains further. “I have lost too many people close to me. I do not know what I would do if something happened to him.”

“I’m going to do better,” Yuna promises, reaching for Ilya’s hand to squeeze it tightly. “Shane told me the other day that you made him realize there are more important things in this world than hockey. And I’m so, so glad you did because you made me realize it, too.” Her face pinches up with emotion. “I never wanted him to put hockey over his mental or physical health. Maybe that’s how it came across, and I see that now, but I just want him to be happy. And I haven’t seen him happy in a long, long time. Not like he is with you. Not since he was a little boy,” she smiles tearfully.

“I think he is my soulmate,” Ilya whispers honestly. “I have never felt anything close to how I feel for him. He is the most important thing in my life, and I would do anything to keep him safe.”

“That is all a mother wants for her son,” Yuna whispers back.

Before Ilya can say anything else, David knocks lightly at the door, balancing a bowl of Russian soup in one hand and a massive armful of cat in the other. “Delivery,” he says cheerfully, but his smile drops when he notices the state they’re in. “Everything okay in here?”

“Everything’s just fine,” Yuna agrees, pressing a kiss to the back of Ilya’s hand before she turns to face her husband. “Just getting to know my son-in-law a little better.”

“Do you have to bring the poor boy to tears every time you say that?” David teases, and it pulls a laugh from both of them. He steps forward to gently place Moose down on the bed before setting the bowl of soup next to Ilya’s cup of tea. “I was thinking, if Ilya is feeling up to it, we could show him how the Hollanders do game night.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Yuna rolls her eyes. “Now, you’re really trying to scare him off.”

David just grins and wiggles his eyebrows while Ilya’s heart beats so fast he’s pretty sure it’s going to burst out of his chest.

-

Shane’s just getting back from dinner when Troy finally corners him on his way to his hotel room.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He demands, his face scrunched up in a mix of hurt and betrayal. “Did I do something wrong? Is it something I said or—”

Shane sighs and presses his hands to his face, shaking his head swiftly. Troy was right. Shane had been avoiding him, but not for the reasons he thought. “No,” he appeases. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I just—” he pauses, sucking in a deep breath.

“Just, what?” Troy presses. “You’ve been acting weird since last night. You wouldn’t sit next to me on the plane this morning, and you turned me down for my invitations to lunch and dinner. I thought we were, like, best friends, bro.”

“We are,” Shane insists, dropping his hands as he frowns deeply. “It’s just…god,” he lets out a defeated exhale. “It’s hard being around you and Harris right now. You guys are so…” he gestures vaguely, hoping the right words will find him. “Lovey dovey. You keep staring at each other with these fucking heart eyes, and it’s killing me knowing that Ilya is thousands of miles away—sick, in bed, needing me—and there’s nothing I can do about it,” he gets out in a rush.

“Shane,” Troy says softly, his eyebrows pressing together in concern.

“He had to go to the fucking hospital, okay? That scared the hell out of me. And it’s like…this is the one time he actually needs me for something, and I can’t be there for him, and it fucking sucks.” Shane huffs, looking up at the ceiling. “And maybe it’s selfish,” he adds quietly. “But I really wish he could have been there last night. I know I’m being stupid, and unfair—”

“You’re not,” Troy assures him quickly. “You’re not being stupid or unfair or any of those things. I totally get why you would have wanted Ilya there yesterday. It was a really big moment for you.”

Shane lets his eyes drift to Troy, watching him with slight misery as he thunks himself against the wall of the hotel hallway. “I’m sorry I avoided you. That wasn’t cool of me. Especially when you’ve had to be around me and Ilya probably, like, a zillion times by now.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Troy attempts to ease Shane’s worries. “I’m not mad at you or anything. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me.”

“Never.” Shane furrows his eyebrows. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It was just me being petty and jealous.”

“Okay,” Troy breathes what sounds like a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure if you were like…replacing me with Luca.”

Shane lets out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Not a chance. I could never replace you with Luca,” he vows because Luca would certainly never understand him the way Troy did. “He was just easy to be around, I guess. He’s not, like, you know…paired up with anyone.”

“We can hang out just us, you know?” Troy offers sympathetically. “I don’t have to be with Harris all the time. Ilya just told us to keep an eye on you. You know he trusts Harris more with that type of thing.”

“I like hanging with Harris,” Shane clarifies. “He was really helpful last night. I’m glad he stepped in when I was talking to that guy.”

“Yeah,” Troy bristles a bit. “I mean, who even was that guy?”

Shane bites at his lower lip for a moment before tentatively breaking his silence. “Remember how I told you Ilya’s the first guy I’ve been with?”

“At the beach. I remember,” Troy nods, looking at him in confusion.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Shane reveals, tipping his head back against the wall. “I did go back with a guy one time before I started seeing Ilya. We kissed in his hotel room and got a little heavy with our clothes on, but I sort of bolted when he went to the bathroom. I was really drunk and, like, terrified of getting outed, so I just…ran.”

Troy blinks a few times like he’s still missing a piece of the puzzle, but the revelation seems to hit him a beat later. “Shit. That was the guy?”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, feeling the past couple of days starting to weigh on him. “I don’t think he knew who I was before last night, but he definitely put it together in the bar. He bought me a drink, wanted me to go back with him,” Shane relays.

“Fuck,” Troy curses, letting out a scoff. “If I had known, I would have told him to fuck off.”

A laugh tumbles out of Shane’s lips at the thought of Troy trying to tell anyone off. To Shane, Troy was just a cute little puppy dog whose bark was bigger than his bite, but he was endeared by the mental picture of his friend sticking up for him. “Well, it’s fine, anyway. I think Harris and Wyatt got the message across.”

“Still,” Troy shakes his head. “I hate the idea of some guy bothering you like that without Ilya there to tell him off.”

“Eh. He was harmless,” Shane waves away, even though he had felt like a fish out of water in the moment. He wasn’t exactly used to men openly hitting on him. Especially not men who knew his secret.

“Did you tell Ilya about it?”

Shane bobs his head up and down. “He was fine. He was glad I had you guys there with me. I think he’s just exhausted more than anything. I’m really worried about him.”

“He’s going to be okay, Shane,” Troy reassures him, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “People go to the hospital for all sorts of things even when it’s not serious.”

Shane levels him with a look.

“Okay, so maybe they don’t,” Troy relents, but it pulls a chuckle out of both of them. “I’m just saying. It sounds like your mom and dad have got it totally under control. But if you need something in the meantime, you know I’m here for you, dude. Ilya’s been texting us for, like, regular updates. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to go down a bit. I know he packed your ears.”

Shane can’t help the way his lips twitch into a smile—partly because Troy was really starting to learn the language, and partly because, even from all the way back home, even when he was sick as a dog, Ilya was still finding ways to look out for him. Ilya was still trying to make sure Shane was comfortable and safe.

“I love you, you know?” Shane tells him honestly, lifting his arms as he gestures Troy forward for a hug.

Troy’s mouth splits into a massive grin before he practically tackles Shane against the wall, wrapping his arms tightly around him while rocking him back and forth. “I love you, too, dude. You’re like…the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Shane laughs wetly, tucking his face into Troy’s neck for a second. “Well, you’re always telling me I deserve good things. You deserve good things, too. Like so many good things.”

Troy shudders a little in his grasp. “Yeah, well. I’ve done some pretty fucked up shit.”

Shane knows he’s referring to Dallas Kent, to all the awful stuff he’s said in the past, but Shane knew better than most what it was like to be closeted. To be so lonely. To have a secret you couldn’t tell anyone—not even yourself. He just holds Troy that much tighter.  “You’ve had a rough couple of years. If anyone could understand, it’s me.”

“It doesn’t excuse how I acted,” Troy declares. “Doesn’t excuse my behavior. I should have told those guys to fuck off a long time ago. Maybe I could have prevented some people from getting hurt.”

“Hey,” Shane cuts in gently. “There’s no use in dwelling on it or beating yourself up over it. People make mistakes. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy. What matters is how you present yourself going forward, and you’ve always been there for me.”

Troy sniffles and clutches onto him a little more securely. They probably look insane like this, two grown men, two massive athletes, pushed up against the wall of the hotel hallway, grasping onto each other for dear life while they both have a semi-breakdown in each other’s arms. Shane doesn’t care, though. He’s spent a lot of time around guys who, looking back, never really truly gave a fuck about him. He’s so grateful to have someone like Troy on his team. Shane knows that if he had still been playing with Montreal this season, it would have been a much different story.

“There you guys are,” Harris interrupts, stepping over to them with slight concern on his face. “Is everything alright?”

Troy rubs over his eyes as he pulls away, and Shane lets his hand glide across Troy’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, we’re alright,” Shane agrees with a smile.

Harris breathes a small sigh of relief. “Good. You had me worried for a second. Troy thought you were avoiding us.”

Shane nods imperceptibly. “I was a little bit. Just because I was missing Ilya, though. You guys didn’t do anything wrong,” he assures Harris before turning back to Troy. “All good?”

“Yeah,” Troy breathes a laugh. “No, we’re fine. I was just telling Shane that Ilya said we could play with him a bit if he wants.”

“Oh yeah?” Harris looks over to Shane in surprise. “We could do that. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in, Shane?”

Shane swallows and looks the two of them over. He’d never really gone down into his kitten space without Ilya around. He wasn’t even sure he could get there, wasn’t sure if there was even a point if his owner wouldn’t be there to take care of him. But Troy looks so, so hopeful, like maybe he’d taken Shane’s avoidance to mean something a lot deeper than it was, like maybe he’s spent the better part of the day assuming things between them had somehow taken a turn for the worst. Like Shane was ready to take back his offer of Troy being his groomsmen, take back his offer of friendship entirely.

“I…maybe we could just watch a movie or something?” Shane suggests instead. “I still want to call Ilya before he goes to bed, but um, I could meet you guys back at one of your rooms?”

“That sounds good,” Troy nods jerkily, his eyes drifting from Shane to Harris. “Maybe we could watch, like, an animal movie?”

Shane can’t help the way his lips curl at the corners. “Yeah,” he replies. “Why don’t you guys start looking for one and I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”

“Cool,” Troy grins, and when Shane looks over to Harris, he finds a similar expression on his face.

So, Shane rounds the corner to get to his hotel room, reaching for his cell phone to dial Ilya as soon as he gets inside. It’s approaching 9pm, meaning it was almost midnight back in Ottawa, but Ilya had promised to stay up at least until Shane called him to say goodnight.

“Hi, моя любовь,” comes Ilya’s small, sick voice through the receiver.

“Hi, baby,” Shane says softly. “How was today? Any better?”

“A little bit,” Ilya sniffs, and then Shane hears the sound of him blowing his nose. “I am just finishing up game night with your parents. Your mom is super competitive.”

“Oh, god,” Shane lets out a laugh as he lowers himself to the edge of his bed. “I swear I’m not actually related to them.”

“Mm,” Ilya hums warmly. “It is nice to be around people who remind me so much of you.”

“Yeah?” Shane asks, smiling when he receives an affirmative sound. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m in bed hanging out with Moose. He has been keeping me company all day. I think he knows how much I miss you.”

Shane sighs in response. “Yeah. I can relate.”

“What are you up to?” Ilya questions, and Shane can practically hear Moose purring through the phone. He tries not to let jealousy flare in his belly.

“I told Troy and Harris I’d watch a movie with them,” Shane relays. “They offered to pet me or play with me a bit, but…” he trails.

“But what, малыш?”

“I don’t know,” Shane huffs, letting himself fall back against the bed. “I doubt I could even get into the right headspace without you here. And even if I did, what’s the point? I’d still just have to come back here and go to sleep by myself. It’s not like I’d have you to talk me back up.”

Ilya pauses on the other end of the line in what sounds like contemplation, and Shane just waits with bated breath for whatever his husband’s genius mind is about to supply.

“I could help get you there,” Ilya offers. “Could help you relax a bit before you go to them. Maybe you will not be able to be in full kitten mode, but you could go to level 1, hm? Possibly even level 2 if Troy and Harris want to give you some pets.”

Shane’s insides bubble with want. “But when I come back,” he stresses because he knows the come down would be horrible if Ilya wasn’t there to cuddle him and kiss him better.

“I could leave you a voice note,” Ilya proposes. “You can listen to it when you get back to your room. It will be like I am right there with you. You could snuggle up with my bear, listen to your fiancé tell you lots of nice things.”

“Husband,” Shane corrects a little breathlessly because fiancé doesn’t feel like enough right now.

“Your husband,” Ilya affirms without a second thought. He sneezes and Shane’s heart aches a tiny bit more. “But I do not think you are needing your husband right now, baby. I think you are much more needing your owner, yes?”

Shane swallows thickly and reaches for Ilya’s hoodie to bury his face in it.

“I know it has only been a few days, but my kitten is very needy,” Ilya murmurs lowly. “You are missing my pets, sweet boy?”

“Yeah,” Shane says emphatically.

“Yeah, baby?” Ilya replies, using that taunting voice he sometimes uses. Like Shane’s just a silly, little kitten who hardly knows any better. “What do you miss the most?”

Shane hiccups a small gasp. “Your arms around me when I sleep,” he whines.

“Mm, I miss this very much too,” Ilya placates, and Shane doesn’t understand how he can sound so in control even when he’s so under the weather. “There is nothing better than waking up to a warm, sleepy pile of kitten. Petting my angel’s soft fur. And the way the sun streams in across your beautiful speckle spots in the morning.”

“Ilya,” Shane says desperately because there’s no way that being away from him should hurt this much.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m right here with you. I would stay up and talk to you all night if I could.”

And Shane appreciates that, but he also knows it’s getting late. He knows that, more than anything, Ilya needs his rest.

“You should get some sleep,” Shane practically whispers into the phone. “You sound exhausted.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, котёнок?” Ilya teases. “You are hoping to run off with your best friend Troy Barrett and his new Dom?”

“Never,” Shane shakes his head.

“Then, let me talk to you a bit more,” Ilya requests lightly. “I am feeling so useless here. I cannot do anything on my own right now. Let me take control. Let me make you feel better.”

Shane shuts his eyes tightly and tries not to let his yearning consume him. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “I mean, yes. I’d really like that. Just…just for a few minutes, okay? I don’t want to keep them waiting too long.”

“Thank you, angel,” Ilya sighs, and there’s a shuffling at the other end of the phone like he’s getting more comfortable. “Why don’t you go get your kitten ears from your bag? I want my baby very relaxed ahead of his big game tomorrow, hm?”

Shane wants to argue, wants to say this is definitely a bad idea, but the thought of getting to shut his head off is too enticing to deny, so he doesn’t shame himself for the way he scrambles out of bed to retrieve the ears from his suitcase. He tries to ignore the way it feels wrong clipping them in himself. He’s so used to feeling Ilya’s warm fingers in his hair, Ilya’s deep voice ricocheting and reverberating from within his chest.

“Ears on, baby?” Ilya double-checks, and Shane reaches to bring the phone back to one of his human ears.

“Yes, Alpha,” he says sweetly, his tummy swirling at the way Ilya coos at him in response.

“That’s my good boy. Just relax for me, okay? Pretend I’m right there with you,” Ilya requests.

“Wish you were,” Shane replies without question.

“I would be holding you so nicely. Petting my kitten’s hair. I love when my kitten clings to me, when you dig your pretty kitty claws into my arms—”

“Your arms are so nice,” Shane groans, turning to press his face back into Ilya’s sweatshirt. “You always smell so good.”

“My kitten is addicted to his Alpha’s scent. Maybe when you get back we can hole up in your nest for a few days.”

“My crate,” Shane begs.

Ilya sucks in a breath. “You wanna sleep in your kitten crate, baby? It’s very comfy in there, yes?”

“Want you to fuck me in there,” Shane blurts because, apparently, it’s more than just Ilya’s arms that he’s missing. “Fuck. I miss showering with you. Miss having you wash my hair. Miss touching your body and feeling your cock against me when we wake up.”

“Cause you’re so seductive. It’s impossible not to get hard around you,” Ilya moans. “God, your sexy little eyes. You look at me like I hung the moon and the stars. You’re so obsessed with me, aren’t you, baby? Such a desperate little angel for me.”

“I just love you so much,” Shane whimpers, gasping as he squirms against the bed. “Always talk to me so good. I— your accent.”

Ilya lets out a surprised laugh. “You like my accent, sweetheart? You think your big Russian husband is very sexy, yes? Is that it?”

“So sexy,” Shane agrees without question. “I listened to your voice note a million times last night. You…when you speak Russian it’s—” Shane swallows. “It makes me feel all tingly. Your voice gets all deep and your accent is so thick. You sound so, so hot. I just wanna get on my knees and rub my face all over you.”

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya curses, and Shane can hear him shifting slightly, like maybe he’s decided he wants to touch himself a bit. “Тебе кажется сексуальным, когда я говорю с тобой по-русски, детка? Когда ты можешь вести себя как бездумный котенок?”

“Oh my god,” Shane stutters out, pressing his hand against his erection before he can help himself. “Please, can I touch? I’ll be so good for you.”

“You wanna get off, baby? You’re gonna be all tuckered out by the time you get to Harris and Troy,” Ilya reminds him gently.

“I need you,” Shane begs. Troy and Harris were the last thing on his mind right now.

“You can’t even go a few days without my touch. You’re so desperate for me, god. Can I hear you whine, princess?”

So, Shane does. He whines like he’s fucking pathetic, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get his mouth on Ilya’s cock in the next five minutes. He whines until he’s not even sure why he’s doing it anymore. If he’s doing it because Ilya asked or because he’s a stupid fucking mutt who’s frantic for his owner.

“Jesus Christ,” Ilya mutters, and Shane can hear him breathing heavily into the phone. “Just like that, baby. That’s my sweet boy. So fucking good for me. You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you? You just live to please me. And I live to worship you.”

“I’m touching myself,” Shane blurts out. Ilya hadn’t really given him explicit permission, even though Shane had asked, so he feels the need to let him know just in case he isn’t supposed to.

“Tell me,” comes Ilya’s thick accent. It’s even more raspy from what must be a sore throat and the coughing, but Shane certainly isn’t complaining. It’s sending shivers down his spine.

“Just over my jeans. Over your jeans,” Shane paints the picture.

“You are wearing my jeans, моя любовь? Did you have to roll them at the ankles so they do not drag when you walk?”

“Yes,” Shane divulges, while pressing up into his hand.

“Of course, you did. Such a silly kitten trying to wear my clothes. You are much tinier than your owner, sweetheart. I bet those jeans are so big on you.”

“They are,” Shane agrees. “I like that you tower over me. I like how big and strong you are and that you can lift me up and that you always carry me—”

“Why don’t you take those jeans off for me, kitten?”

“Okay,” Shane replies, quickly clambering to follow the instruction. “Are you…are you touching yourself, too?” He asks, a flurry of doubt running through him for a second. It was harder to read Ilya from over the phone when Shane couldn’t see his face or feel his touch. It was even more difficult because Ilya was all stuffed up, so he already sounded a little different than Shane’s kitten mind was normally used to hearing.

“From practically the moment I picked up the phone,” Ilya huffs a laugh, and Shane melts at the reassurance. “My dick is so fucking hard for you. I am going insane without your kitten licks. Your bites that you leave all over me. God, you’re the hottest thing alive. You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Please,” Shane moans as he kicks his jeans the rest of the way off. “I need you so bad. I need you to touch me.”

“I am going to tell you exactly how I would touch you if I were there. I want you to close your eyes and do everything I say. I want you to pretend it’s my hands that are touching you,” Ilya says before sneezing three times in a row.

“Bless you,” he presses into the phone, while closing his eyes just like Ilya’s asked.

“Thank you,” Ilya’s voice softens. “Being so good for me, baby. Why don’t you cup yourself through your boxers for me? Is your dick hard?”

“So hard,” Shane sucks in a sharp inhale.

“Bet you’re leaking all over the place already. Always so easy for me, aren’t you? Tell me.”

Shane is already leaking, forming a little damp spot on the front of his boxers. “I’m really wet,” he says instead because his brain isn’t working at full capacity right now. Not when he’s got Ilya crooning in his ear, and his eyes are closed, and he’s starting to feel lost in outer space.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Ilya groans, and Shane can almost hear the way his hand is pumping his cock, the way it speeds up every couple of seconds before slowing down, like he’s trying to savor every moment of this. “You can take your dick out, but just the tip, okay? Pull your boxers down just under the head of your cock. Understand?”

Shane whimpers and nearly drops the phone as he goes to comply with the request. His hands are pretty shaky, so ultimately, he decides to put the phone on speaker before placing it next to him as he lies back on the bed.

“Use your thumb and glide through some of that pre-cum. Just little circles over your slit. Tiny, little touches,” Ilya voices, his words coming out of him slow like honey.

“Oh my god,” Shane pants, his eyes remaining closed as he tips his head back against the bed.

“Does that feel good, baby?”

“I need more, Ilya, please.”

“Put your fingers in your mouth. I want you to taste yourself. I want you to taste how sweet you are. Be noisy for me. I want to hear you,” Ilya gets out, and Shane hears him spitting into his hand from the other end of the line. It makes Shane’s head go fuzzy behind his eyelids.

Shane lifts his hand to his lips and glides his fingers across them until he’s brandishing his pre-cum like lipstick. Then, his tongue pokes out and works its way across his lips, tasting while Shane takes it in with genuine curiosity. It’s not half bad. A little salty, maybe. Shane hopes it doesn’t come with any extra sodium or calories. He sucks his fingers fully into his mouth this time, swirling his tongue to produce some extra saliva for Ilya’s sake.

“That’s right. Drool all over your—” Ilya pauses to cough.

Shane’s heart pangs with the desire to dive through the phone and take care of him.

“Drool all over your fingers. Then, I want to hear some nice kitten licks on your paw, baby. Get your hand nice and wet for me. Long, slow kitten licks. Who’s my котёнок?”

“I am,” Shane says on autopilot, because he doesn’t need a single working braincell to answer that one. Being Ilya’s котёнок was written in every fiber of his DNA. He licks over the palm of his hand as requested, being very intentional with each lick to make sure Ilya can hear him nice and clear.

“That’s my boy. Keep going just like that. Pretend you are giving your owner a nice bath. Cleaning your Alpha’s big cock.”

Shane purrs through the phone while licking the pad of his paw a little more incessantly.

“Oh, that’s so good, baby. I bet you look so gorgeous right now. Your eyes closed while you squirm around on the bed waiting for your Alpha to tell you what to do? Can you touch your balls for me, sweetheart? I want you to take your boxers all the way off and get yourself all messy for me. Rub the pads of your fingers over your pretty hole, and press your palm against your balls, and just hump into your hand for me.”

Holy shit, Shane thinks to himself as his body moves on its own accord. Everything is so much more sensitive with his eyes shut and Ilya’s voice right in his ear and Ilya’s scented hoodie next to his face. Shane thinks he must have a pretty good imagination because, somehow, he’s able to take all of that and make it feel like Ilya really is touching him with his big, calloused hand.

“That’s right. Be desperate for me. You’re probably so close already. Can get off just from my voice and me barely touching you at all. Fuck,” Ilya stutters. “Pretend you’re humping my leg. Big fucking useless dick rubbing all over my thigh.”

Shane whimpers and ruts faster into his hand while taking a deep inhale of Ilya’s hoodie.

“Your dick is so fucking needy, baby. I should keep you locked up so you’re always desperate for me. We all know you prefer when I touch your hole anyway. That’s what you’re really good at, aren’t you? Being a pretty set of holes for me. God, I want you to sit on my face.”

Shane snivels at the words, twisting his body as he tries to perfect the angle of grinding against Ilya’s warm thigh.

“You getting close for me, sweetheart?”

“Mhm,” Shane cries, his eyebrows furrowed as his cock slides against his slicked-up hand.

“You gonna come for me, маленький ангел? Ты издаешь такие милые звуки, котёнок. Мой ангел, посланный свыше. Тебе нравится, когда я говорю на своём родном языке? Мой русский тебя возбуждает?”

God, the way Russian just rolled off of Ilya’s tongue. There was a part of Shane that hoped he never learned the whole language because, sometimes, Ilya had a way of hypnotizing him. It was bad enough when he used his Dom voice, but when he used his Dom voice in Russian, Shane was a pure goner. It was something about not knowing what he was saying that could send Shane that much deeper. Make him float that much more.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know what Ilya is saying anymore. He’s really fucking floaty now. Is he laying on a body of water? Are the waves carrying him further and further out? Noises are coming out of him, but it’s beyond his control. He sucks at the fabric of Ilya’s hoodie. Oh, god. It feels good to be needy and whiny. It feels good to have Ilya tell him what to do.

Ilya is mumbling something unintelligibly and then cursing as he unmistakably shoots off all over what Shane envisions to be a bare chest. Shane sticks his tongue out and imagines laving over his moles, licking every drop of cum off of his fevered skin.

“That’s it, princess. Get yourself off for me. Sit in my lap and grind against me just like you did the first time you were a kitten. When I put those ears on you and everything shifted. When I gave you my collar and you realized you were mine forever. That you were never, ever going to want to take it off because you want everyone else to know, too. You gonna go over to Troy and Harris’ after this and tell them what I did to you?” Ilya taunts. “Will you tell them how easy it was? How I barely had to do anything but call you my sweet kitten. Will you tell them that’s all it takes to turn you into a drippy, sloppy mess?”

“Please, Ilya. I can’t—”

“Cum for me, baby. Let me hear your pretty noises. I want you to make a fucking mess and cum all over your shirt. I want you to look at it in your luggage all week and remember what I did to you.”

Shane’s mouth drops open as his hips stutter against his hand, hot flashes going off behind his eyes while he sinks into the timber of Ilya’s voice talking him through. “Ah,” Shane gets out while he whimpers and moans into oblivion, his kitten ears going crooked in his hair as he fucks against himself.

“That’s it, precious. You’re okay. Come back down to Earth, angel. Back down with me, hm? You with me, Shane?”

Shane is still trying to catch his breath while he tries to get a grip on reality, his head all dizzy and slow from his orgasm.

“Listen to the sound of my voice, please. I’m right here with you. Can you give me a sign you’re okay? Just a little hum for me?”

The words make Shane giggle for some reason, but luckily, it’s enough to qualify as proof of life for Ilya.

“There you are, моя любовь,” comes Ilya’s warm, congested voice. “You did so good for me. You’re the best kitten in the whole entire world.”

Shane feels like the best kitten in the whole entire world. He feels warm all over, sated in a way he certainly wasn’t last night. Ilya could make him feel like this even from 3,000 miles away, even when he was fighting off the horrors of having a bad case of the flu.

“Why don’t you take a deep breath, baby? Let’s breathe in.” Ilya inhales slowly, and Shane follows along with him. “And out. There you go. Two more times. In…and out.”

Shane moves automatically with Ilya’s words, his chest rising and falling as Ilya tells him to.

Ilya lets him lie there for a few minutes longer. He keeps walking him through his breaths, keeps talking to him nice and good, until Shane is able to find his way back. Until Shane is able to feel the bed beneath him and the cool air against his face from the hotel air conditioning.

And then Ilya talks him into the bathroom, talks him into stripping out of his soiled shirt and popping inside the shower for a wake-up and a quick rinse. Shane follows his instructions without question, carrying the phone around with him as he completes each task. He’s still a little hazy, but Ilya is doing a great job at getting his brain back into working condition. He’s down, but up. He’s present, but not.

“Let’s leave the ears off, kitty. I want you in your hoodie with the kitten ears, please. And some nice, cozy sweatpants. You should have a thick pair of Nike’s in there from me. Why don’t you spritz a bit of my cologne on so you smell like mine, hm? Just in case Harris or Troy get confused.”

Shane can’t help the smile that pours over his face at Ilya’s words. It was so nice having someone else decide things right now. All day he had been choosing. Whether to sit with Troy or Luca. What to do with his free time. What to order at lunch. Who to grab dinner with. It was all so fucking exhausting. He was thankful to let Ilya take over completely.

“There we go, sweet prince. You are so perfect. You belong entirely to me and no one will ever question that, okay? Are you excited to have my last name soon?” Ilya questions, and Shane rubs his cheek against the side of his soft hood, seeking comfort. “That’s right, baby. Everyone is going to know you are mine. The boys know it. Your family know it. All our friends know it. Pretty soon everyone in the world will know.”

“Want that so bad,” Shane agrees in a whisper. “I wish I had your jersey with me.”

“I am sure Coach Wiebe can loan you one for a few days. I will text him to get one from the equipment manager, yes? I doubt they have much use for it without me there.”

“Please,” Shane begs, reaching for Ilya’s bear as soon as he’s properly dressed.

“Why don’t you head over to see Troy and Harris now, babydoll? I am going to stay on the phone with you until you get there. I’m shooting them a text right now to let them know you’re on your way.”

“Can I bring my bear with me?” Shane asks, hugging the stuffed animal close to his chest. He can practically hear Ilya’s smile through the phone.

“Course, baby. This is the closest we’re going to get to aftercare tonight, so bring whatever will make you comfortable. And you have my full permission for cuddles and pets from your safety people, okay? I just want you to feel nice and good tonight. As soon as we get off the phone, I’m going to send you a voice note to fall asleep to.”

Shane closes his eyes tightly and tries to keep tears from pouring down his cheeks. “You’re too good to me.”

“You deserve everything,” Ilya says in response.

By the time Shane finally makes it over to Troy’s room, it’s 9:30pm. He would almost feel bad about arriving so much later than he initially intended, but when they open the door for him, it’s clear Ilya has already given them a warning about where Shane’s head is at.

“Hi, kitty,” Troy greets him excitedly from his spot on the bed as Harris shuts the door behind Shane.

“Hi,” Shane says softly around a smile, his phone still pressed to his ear.

“You are with Troy and Harris now, angel?” Ilya double-checks.

“Yes,” Shane answers while toeing off his shoes and climbing onto the bed to collapse next to Troy.

“And what movie are you going to watch?”

Shane licks his lips and pulls his phone to the side for a second. “What movie?” He voices quietly to Troy.

“Alvin and the Chipmunks!” Troy declares with a toothy grin.

Shane turns back to his phone. “Alvin and the Chipmunks,” he repeats to Ilya.

“Ah, good choice,” Ilya chuckles. “Can you put Troy on the phone for me, котёнок?”

Shane offers the phone to Troy without question.

“Hi, Ilya,” Troy sing-songs. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Hi, Barrett. I am okay,” Ilya dismisses. “Shane is a little spacey right now. He might need some cuddles and pets during the movie.”

“Oh?” Troy raises his eyebrows, glancing over at Shane. “That’s no problem! Is he okay?”

“He is okay,” Ilya confirms. “Just missing me. I think it has been hard for him to see you and Harris together while I am not there, but he will be alright. Just try not to leave him out while you are watching. He could use some extra attention.”

“No worries,” Troy smiles, lifting his arm to encourage Shane to cuddle up into his side.

Shane shifts closer to place himself in the crook of Troy’s armpit, pressing his cheek against the other’s abdomen as he hugs his bear tightly.

“There’s a good kitten,” Troy praises, ruffling Shane’s hair from under his cat ear hood. “You want some head scratches?”

“Everything okay?” Harris asks while settling on Troy’s other side.

“Can you put Harris on the phone, please?” Ilya requests next, and Troy passes the phone down the line so he can focus fully on Shane.

“Ilya?” Harris says into the receiver.

“Keep an eye on them for me. Shane’s a little down, so promise me you or Troy will walk him back to his room when the movie is over? I am going to leave him a goodnight message to listen to before he goes to sleep.”

“Absolutely. We’ll take good care of him. He’s been on his best behavior,” Harris confirms.

There’s one more round of passing the phone back to Shane so Ilya can say his final goodbyes, and then the movie goes on for real. Harris wraps an arm around Troy, allowing the other to slink closer, which in turn, makes Shane snuggle further into Troy’s side while he presses his nose into Ilya’s bear.

“Oh my god, Alvin is so funny,” Troy comments once the trio makes their debut on screen. “I’m totally him.”

“Yeah, right,” Harris snorts.

“Excuse me?” Troy’s jaw drops as he tips his head back to look at the other incredulously.

“You’re too much of a dork to be Alvin,” Harris teases, tickling into Troy’s sides. “Definitely more of a Theodore.”

“Hey,” Troy whines, but he shuts up the second Harris leans down and grants him a kiss.

“Don’t worry. I’ve always thought Theodore is the cutest.”

“Which one am I?” Shane questions lightly.

“Mm, you’re totally Simon,” Troy fills in, scratching his nails over Shane’s scalp until his eyes start to slip shut. “Simon’s like so good at following the rules. That’s why you’re always such a good cat for Ilya.”

Shane hums his agreement, his lips curling at the edges as his limbs grow heavy. Troy’s chest continues to rise and fall underneath Shane’s cheek as he and Harris talk amongst themselves. In fact, Shane doesn’t even realize he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up to Troy’s hand on his shoulder, his eyes blurry when he blinks at the screen to find the credits rolling.

“Hi, kitten. Me and Harris are gonna walk you down the hall so you can go sleep in your bed, okay? We’ve got a big game tomorrow.”

Shane huffs and presses his face back into Ilya’s bear.

“I know, dude. It fucking sucks being human sometimes, huh?”

Shane’s eyebrows pinch together in confusion, but when he looks up, Harris is running his fingers through Troy’s hair as the two of them stare at each other deeply. It makes want curl deep in Shane’s tummy. He knows he has to get to bed, though, so he reluctantly forces himself into a sitting position in order to get his shoes on and start heading out the door.

“Night, kitty,” Troy whispers into his ear, pulling him into a hug once the three of them have arrived back at Shane’s hotel room.

“Night, Shane.” Harris waves next. “Ilya left you a little something to listen to before you go to bed,” he informs with a smile.

So, as soon as Shane’s settled under the covers with the lights turned off, he presses play on Ilya’s voice message.

“Hi, angel. You’re probably getting ready to go to sleep right now. I hope you had a good time with Troy and Harris. I know they’ve been getting closer, but try not to be too jealous, sweetheart. You are still the most loved in the world by me, and the sooner they get together for real, the sooner you may have a new puppy friend.”

Shane hides his smile in Ilya’s bear.

“I am so proud of you for breaking the record yesterday. I know I say it all the time, but I truly think you’re the best hockey player ever. It is so much more fun to play when you are on the ice with me. I miss seeing you up close, in your element, but I am excited to watch with your parents again tomorrow. They get so riled up,” Ilya laughs. “Is very funny. Your mom was yelling at the ref. I think she is starting to really like me. Your dad, too.”

Shane’s heart thrums.

Ilya sighs, and then his voice softens. “I miss you so, so much.” A pause. “Why don’t you lie down and close your eyes for me and we can go to sleep together.”

Shane swallows and shifts to get a little more comfortable, shutting his eyes as he lies back fully with his phone next to him on the pillow.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Just imagine I am right there with you. I miss your cold, little ice cube feet rubbing against me all night. I keep waking up with the sweats. Is kind of gross, actually, but just know I would be keeping you very, very warm if I was there. Plus, I know you are a secret freak when it comes to my sweat. You’d probably try and steal all my sick clothes for your nest. Sneaky omega.”

Shane preens and burrows further into Ilya’s bear.

“Just relax for me. Let all the stress melt out of you, baby. I want you nice and loose for your game tomorrow. You gonna score a hat trick again for me, sweetheart? Just like I asked, yes?”

“Yes,” Shane whispers his reply.

“Good boy. You’re probably going to break a record for most hat tricks in a row,” Ilya smiles through the phone. “My superstar. God, is there anything you aren’t the best at? Best hockey player. Best boy. Best kitten.”

Shane lets out a little purr in response.

“Just keep being relaxed for me. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’m right here.”

Shane isn’t sure how much longer the voice note goes on before he falls asleep. All he knows is he hears Ilya’s voice in his dreams for ages after, and it’s the best sleep he’s ever had without Ilya physically being there to hold him.

-

“Has the game started yet?” David asks as he joins Ilya and Yuna in the living room.

“Not yet. Few more minutes,” Yuna responds.

“He asleep still?” David murmurs when he notices Ilya passed out on her shoulder.

Yuna looks down at him with a smile, using her fingers to smooth back Ilya’s curls from his face. “He was up late last night talking to Shane. I’ll wake him when they line up for face-off.”

“We’ve got a hell of a game here tonight in Las Vegas. The crowd is buzzing in anticipation as we wait to see what will happen. Las Vegas has had a pretty good season so far, but all eyes are on Ottawa after Shane Hollander’s record-breaking opener two nights ago in Los Angeles. Ticket prices for this evening’s game shot up to numbers we haven’t seen since last year’s playoffs, with everyone hoping to catch another glimpse of Hollander’s on-ice magic. Ottawa’s star center is currently stepping up as Captain while Ilya Rozanov is out for personal reasons. No word yet on when he’ll be returning,” the announcer spews at the camera.

“Ilya, honey,” Yuna gently tries to coax him awake. “The game’s about to start. Shane’s taking the ice.”

“Shane,” Ilya murmurs incoherently, forcing himself to blink into awareness. He lifts one fist to try and rub some of the haziness from his eyes as he rises to a sitting position, but it’s then that he realizes it’s Yuna Hollander’s shoulder he dozed off on. “Sorry,” Ilya apologizes, cheeks flushing red.

“Oh, you’re fine, honey. You don’t have to apologize. Your head’s not that heavy,” she jokes, reaching over to playfully prod at Ilya’s arm. “Have a nice nap? I heard you talking to Shane really late last night.”

Ilya freezes up under her gaze. “You…you did?” He questions, wondering just how much she heard. Fuck. Ilya makes a note to soundproof their master bedroom as soon as possible, just in case they ever want to host guests again. God, she probably thought he was so fucked up for the way he was talking to Shane. Did she hear Ilya call her son’s dick big and useless? Holy shit. Ilya feels like he’s going to have a heart attack.

“I got up to get some water and I saw your light was on,” she smiles. “I was going to tell you to get your ass to bed, but I couldn’t resist listening in for a minute. It’s just…the things you say to each other are so sweet.”

Ilya swallows thickly, eyes grazing over her in quick succession. Whatever she heard, it must not have been very incriminating at all. Maybe luck had been on Ilya’s side last night. Maybe Yuna had been fortunate enough to catch the end of Ilya’s voice note to Shane, the part where Ilya kept telling Shane, in as many ways as possible, that he was the love of Ilya’s life.

“Anyway, I’m sorry for eavesdropping,” Yuna shakes her head. “We just haven’t spent a lot of time around the both of you lately. I forgot how cute you two can be.”

Their attention is pulled to the TV at the sound of the first face-off starting, so Ilya doesn’t get a chance to address her comments before the three of them are immediately sucked into the game. And as expected, Shane wins the face-off. He doesn’t break any records this time, but he is fast as ever as he races across the ice. He scores his first goal two minutes in.

“There we go,” Yuna whoops loudly.

“That’s it, Shane.” David nods in approval.

That’s my boy, Ilya thinks to himself.

Shane gets his second goal in the second period, and Ilya can tell he must have told some of the guys about his campaign for a hat trick tonight because, all game, they’re passing to him like crazy. Shane is gunning for it. He’s like lightning on his skates, protecting the puck with his life, and taking checks completely unphased.

He looks like he might be a little banged up when they get into the third period. Ilya almost wishes he could tell Shane to take it easy. The hat trick wasn’t worth getting an injury over, but before he can hold onto that thought for too long, Shane is skating up to the net again. He switches to his backhand, but at the last second, instead of taking the shot, he fakes the goalie out and fires a forehand wrist shot over the goalie’s shoulder to achieve his third goal of the night.

Ilya’s jaw drops as Shane then turns to the camera and fucking winks.

“That’s my move! He did my move!” He turns to look at the Hollanders, but David and Yuna are just laughing.

“That’s another hat trick for Shane Hollander! Two games in a row. Hollander is on fire this week!” The announcer bellows into the mic.

Ilya grins widely and presses a kiss to his engagement ring as Yuna and David cheer next to him.

“And was that a dig at fellow teammate Ilya Rozanov? For those who are unaware, that move he just did is particularly hard to master. In fact, we’ve only ever seen one person complete it on ice before today, which is why it’s typically referred to as ‘The Rozanov.’ But the Centaurs certainly didn’t need Rozanov to pull off a move like that tonight, and you’ve gotta wonder if they’re starting to question their choice in Captain after a week like this one. Perhaps it might be time for a change in leadership, boys. Would Ottawa’s real team Captain please stand up?”

The camera zooms in on Shane skating back to the boards, raising his glove high in the air.

Ilya tries not to let the announcer’s words bother him. He’s so happy that Shane has been leading their team to victory. He’s so proud of him for breaking the record, for scoring two hat tricks in a row, for perfecting Ilya’s coveted move. It didn’t mean that Shane didn’t need him. It didn’t mean that the team didn’t. They were just having a good week, getting into a good flow after months of having the cards stacked against them.

He forces himself to keep that in mind when his phone rings after the game, his husband’s beautiful face popping up on the screen.

“Hi, superstar,” Ilya greets him warmly.

“Did you see?”

“See how you stole my move or see you hat trick your way into another win?”

Shane laughs like sunshine. “Both.”

“You are unbelievable,” Ilya smirks.

“Are you proud of me?” Shane asks breathlessly.

“Words cannot even describe how proud I am,” Ilya voices softly.

“Is that Shane? How’s he always calling you so fast? The game only just finished.”

Ilya smiles and puts the call on speakerphone.

“Shane, if you keep playing this well, you’re going to break another record soon,” Yuna calls out. “Let me just tell you, Rolex is very pleased right now. And are you sure you don’t want to talk about Gatorade? They just upped their offer number. Think of the honeymoon you could have.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I am paying for honeymoon,” Ilya says before he can stop himself. It was one thing to have to sit at home and watch Shane captain their team, but it was quite another to suggest that Shane would be using his sponsorship money on the wedding Ilya had offered to pay for. He blinks, however, when he catches both Yuna and David staring at him. “Um, is Russian tradition,” he offers on the fly. “Groom pays for honeymoon. Is sign of good faith for the marriage. Of taking care of the spouse. Very bad luck otherwise.”

“Oh,” Yuna frowns, while nodding slowly in understanding. “But isn’t Shane the groom, too, in this case?”

Jesus Christ. Ilya fights very hard not to press his palms to his face in frustration. Even his lies weren’t making any sense.

“Well…Russian tradition does not say much about gay marriages,” he admits wryly.

“But it’s Ilya’s tradition, and it’s important to him, so he’s going to pay for the honeymoon, Mom. No arguments,” Shane luckily chimes in from the other end of the line. “And, for the last time, I’m not going to do a deal with Gatorade.”

“Okay, okay,” Yuna relents, holding her hands up in surrender.

“You were great out there, Shane.”

“Thanks, Dad,” comes Shane’s smiling voice. “Okay, love you guys. Ilya, take me off speaker, please.”

Ilya tries not to peacock at the thought that Shane really, mostly, only wants to talk to him, but it’s hard not to cling onto any tiny crumb that flashes in front of him when he’s feeling so completely and utterly purposeless right now.

“Um, so, the boys want to go out to some of the casinos to celebrate,” Shane says, once Ilya makes it clear he’s no longer being broadcasted to his entire family.

“That sounds like fun, моя любовь,” Ilya replies, burrowing further into the hoodie he nicked from one of Shane’s drawers. It’s a little tight around the biceps, but it’s worth it for the way it smells like him.

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, and there’s noise all around him.

“Cap, we need you for interviews!”

“One second!” Shane relays before he’s back in Ilya’s ear again. “I have to go, but um. Let me know how much money I can take out. For slots and stuff.”

“You are feeling very lucky, hm? Is that it?” Ilya teases, but he’s so endeared by how committed Shane is to following his rules. He’s the best sub. He’s the best partner. He’s beyond Ilya’s wildest, wildest dreams. “Go do your interviews, hotshot. I will text you, okay?”

“Okay,” Shane agrees. “Love you so much.”

“Я люблю тебя бесконечно.”

“Бесконечно,” Shane repeats. “What’s that one?”

“Mm, it is endlessly. I love you endlessly.”

“Я люблю тебя бесконечно,” Shane says back to him, and Ilya melts a little more.

-

“Hey, your shoulder okay?” Troy asks him as Shane steps out of the elevator.

Shane reaches up to rub and roll his shoulder on instinct.

“Yeah. It’s a little bruised, but I’ll get some ice on it before I go to bed.” Shane shakes off the concern.

Troy’s eyebrows pinch minutely and Shane watches as he looks over to Harris, the two of them sharing a glance.

“What?” Shane frowns, eyes darting between the two of them.

“Nothing,” Harris shakes his head. “I just…should probably give Ilya a heads up. He’s going to notice if you’re favoring your other side during Saturday’s game.”

“Fuck,” Shane curses in realization. “I need to check how much money I can take out for gambling.” He pauses when he catches a few of the other Centaurs staring at him. “What?” Shane scoffs.

Bood shrugs, holding his hands up in defense. “I just didn’t realize you guys were already sharing finances like that.”

“Yeah, well. Ilya likes to pay for stuff. So, I ask permission before spending his money. Does anyone have a problem with that?” He addresses the group of them with his hands on his hips.

“Nope. I think that’s totally cool,” Holmberg responds without question.

“I wish I had a sugar daddy paying for me,” Wyatt sighs forlornly.

“Isn’t your girlfriend literally a doctor?” Luca reminds him with furrowed eyebrows.

“Shane! Tell Rozy you deserve to spend, like, a million dollars after that second hat trick,” LaPointe slurs, and Shane can tell he’s already gotten started at the hotel bar. “Pretty soon you’re going to be up there with the top scorers of all time.”

“Pretty sure he’s already up there with the top scorers of all time,” Troy bites back, narrowing his eyes.

Shane shakes his head fondly as he puts out a text to Ilya.

Shane: How much $ should I take out?

Ilya: Let’s start with $200 and if you need more you can text me, okay? I don’t want you getting too crazy tonight with that shoulder. You need your rest.

Shane rolls his eyes. He can’t believe how quickly Harris was able to get the news out about his shoulder.

Ilya: I can feel you rolling your eyes through the phone. Don’t give me attitude.

Shane turns around quickly. Did Ilya have eyes in the fucking walls? His gaze locks on Harris who is still typing furiously into his phone. Shane huffs in defeat.

Shane: Fine, but you know how far $200 gets you in a casino. And you’re going to be asleep by the time I run out.

Ilya: Harris knows my limit. Go to him for permission if you need more and can’t get in touch with me. I told the boys nothing too crazy tonight. You still have two games left. I need you to come back to me in one piece.

Shane bares his fangs for the camera and takes a quick selfie that he immediately sends to Ilya. He gets one back not even a half second later of Ilya and his mom making the same face. He laughs and saves the picture to his phone.

Shane: Cute. Send me one of your tits later.

Ilya: Perv.

Shane grins.

Ilya: Okay, fine. But only if you send me one back.

Shane: Deal.

When they get to the casino, Shane instantly feels overstimulated. The lights are blaring down on him and there are all types of noises coming from the machines. The team has already split up into groups, so Shane makes a mental note to stick close by Troy all night just in case he starts to feel like he wants to go back to the hotel.

“Oh my god! Roulette! Let’s go there first,” Troy demands, tugging on Shane’s arm to get him to follow suit.

The minimum bet is $15 per game, so Shane hands over his first $100 in exchange for a selection of chips. He and Troy each place their $15 bets, with Harris watching them from the sidelines. Troy chooses red, while Shane picks black, and then they watch as the roulette wheel spins. And spins. And spins.

“Black six,” the dealer calls as the ball lands.

“Shane, you won,” Harris tells him with a smile, and Shane’s eyes light up when the dealer gives him his $15 back as well as another $15.

“Damn,” Troy frowns, watching his chip get collected.

“Let’s play again,” Shane suggests, feeling spurred on by his win.

A few more rounds go by like that. Troy mostly loses, pouting every step of the way, but Shane is able to get a couple more wins under his belt, until pretty soon, he’s turned his $100 into $400.

“Wow, Shane. You’re really good at that,” Wyatt notices when he sidles up next to the table to join them. “Fuck it. I’m feeling lucky. I’m putting all my money down.”

“Wyatt, no,” Bood laughs wildly next to him as more of the boys join the table. “You’ve already lost a ton.”

“Only $500.” Wyatt rolls his eyes. “Plus, Shane’s obviously killing it over here. Maybe the team just needs to utilize our good luck charm. C’mon. I’m putting the rest of my money down on Shane’s number! Everything on 24 black.”

Wyatt puts down his remaining $500 on 24 black and is somehow able to convince half of the team to do the same. Troy’s only got a measly $25 in chips left, but he puts it all at stake. Holmberg and LaPointe each put down $100. Bood, Luca, and Dykstra are feeling brave, so they put $200 down. And then just because the boys have so much faith in him, Shane goes against his better judgement and pulls out his last $100 to match Wyatt for a total of $500, including all of his winnings.

Altogether, the entire team has nearly $2000 on 24 black.

“Wait, wait!” Wyatt yells just before the dealer calls for final bets. “Can we all get a pet in for good luck? Please,” he begs, looking between Shane and Harris.

Harris shrugs and gestures to Shane. “It’s up to Shane. Fine by me.”

Shane glances around the rest of the team who are all staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes, like the fate of their bet truly rests in his hands…or paws, really. But the ball is already slowing, and they’re running out of time, so Shane nods quickly and leans forward before he can think any better of it.

The guys crowd and give him a ton of hair ruffles at once just as the dealer announces that there will be no more bets. And then, Shane waits with bated breath for the ball to land.

“Black 24!” The dealer calls, and the Centaurs go nuts.

“Oh my fucking god,” Wyatt bellows, tackling Shane into a hug.

“Hey, careful with his shoulder,” Harris warns, pulling at Wyatt’s shirt, but it’s no use. The boys are all over him, dog-piling onto him while the dealer goes about paying everyone out.

Including their original bets, Troy ends up with $900, Holmberg and LaPointe leave with $3,600 each, Bood, Luca, and Dykstra get $7,200, and Shane and Wyatt each receive a payout of $18,000. All in all, the team’s total payout is $65,700.

“Shane Hollander is the fucking goat!” Holmberg roars while he and LaPointe start shadow-boxing each other in celebration.

Wyatt plants a big, wet kiss on Shane’s cheek and even Troy can’t resist squeezing him tightly around the middle.

“Kitten good luck charm,” Bood laughs wildly, ruffling Shane’s hair again. “You are so fucking goated, bro. It’s unreal.”

“Shane’s the best,” Luca beams in agreement.

“Hollzy! Hollzy! Hollzy!”

“Alright, guys,” Harris chuckles at the uproar. “We should probably cash out before the casino comes after us.”

“Ditto,” Dykstra agrees. “They’re going to ban Shane from ever coming here again. He’s too good.”

“I’m about to start flying Shane out here during our time off to put him to work,” Wyatt whistles, slinging his arm around Shane’s shoulders. “We could make a fortune off this kitten magic.”

“You might as well just start placing bets on how many goals he’s going to score,” Bood snorts. “I see playoffs in our future, boys.”

“I see a fucking Cup in our future,” Troy corrects, batting at Wyatt’s arm to get him to release Shane. “Now, stop touching the money maker. He needs another hat trick on Saturday.”

“If Hollander scores another hat trick next game, I will personally suck his dick and let all of you watch,” Bood declares.

“Woah,” Holmberg says in stitches. “Careful, buddy. With the way Haasy and Barrett kept passing to him all game, you might just get your wish.”

“Yeah, if your wish is to be a dead man,” Troy fires back. “Make one more comment like that, and I’m telling Ilya.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” LaPointe cuts in. “Let’s all just relax.”

“Seriously, don’t tell Ilya,” Shane agrees. Knowing his fiancé, he’d be on a plane to handle Bood within the hour.

“I’m not telling Ilya anything right now,” Harris says to the group at large. “But Troy’s right. You need to watch what you say. No sexualizing our star player.”

“But he’s just so sexy,” Wyatt cries out ridiculously, miming tears.

“Back off,” Luca warns, shoving at Wyatt harshly. “At some point, you’re just sexually harassing him.”

“What?” Wyatt’s jaw drops. “I am not.”

“Yeah, Hazy. We don’t need a Dallas Kent on our hands,” Dykstra shudders, shaking his head.

“Okay, guys. That’s a pretty insane accusation. I wouldn’t go that far,” Harris dismisses, eyes darting over to Troy, who already looks a little green at the mention of his former teammate.

“I’m not a fucking rapist, Dykstra,” Wyatt seethes. “Don’t ever fucking compare me to that piece of shit again. Besides, I’m pretty sure guys can’t be sexually assaulted.”

Troy scoffs.

“What, Barrett? You got something to say?” Wyatt turns in his direction this time.

“Of course guys can be sexually assaulted. Anyone can be sexually assaulted.” Troy rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah? Name one guy who’s been sexually assaulted before.” Wyatt crosses his arms over his chest as he looks Troy over searchingly.

“Okay, just because I don’t personally know a guy who’s been sexually assaulted doesn’t mean that there aren’t any.”

“Funny, because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means. Girls aren’t going around sexually assaulting guys—”

“Oh my god. First of all, that’s not even true. Second of all, guys can totally sexually assault other guys,” Troy argues.

“What sort of dude is getting sexually assaulted by another dude?”

“Me,” Shane butts in with a shrug. “I was sexually assaulted by another dude.”

Suddenly, everyone goes quiet, and when Shane risks a glance around the group, he has a dozen pairs of wide eyes on him.

“What? You said guys can’t be sexually assaulted. I’m saying they can. I was. Can we drop it now?”

“Shane,” Troy frowns.

“I’m fine,” Shane shakes his head.

“But—”

“I said I’m fine,” he reiterates. “Now, let’s all get a snack to help us sober up and then we’re going back to the hotel. Okay? I want everyone on rest and recovery tomorrow. We’ve got two more games this week, and I promised Ilya we’d win them both.”

Nobody says anything, but he does receive several nods in agreement; other than that, it’s silence on their way back to the hotel.

Maybe Shane shouldn’t have brought it up. The last thing he wanted was for the guys to think he was pathetic because he couldn’t defend himself against another guy. Fuck. Would they even respect him as their Captain for these next two games? Or would they just feel awkward around him? Sorry for him, even. Would they think Ilya was a bad boyfriend for letting it happen? No, they probably didn’t even know it occurred while he and Ilya were together. They didn’t know anything, actually. Maybe Shane should have explained it better. Holy shit. They were probably thinking it went a lot further than it did. Should Shane correct them before it’s too late?

“Hey, Shane?” Wyatt pulls him aside as soon as they step into the lobby. “Um, I just wanted to apologize for acting like an asshole at the casino. I shouldn’t have been mouthing off like that. And I never should have said that guys can’t, like, be sexually assaulted or whatever. That was super insensitive.”

“Hazy, it’s fine,” Shane assures, rubbing over his shoulder, which is starting to ache a bit more. He really should get some ice on it before bed. “I’m not offended. I probably should have just kept my mouth shut. That was an overshare.”

“Absolutely not.” Wyatt furrows his eyebrows. “You’re our boy, Hollander. We all fucking love you and none of us ever want anything bad to happen to you. Past, present, future. I’d go back in time and kick the shit out of that guy myself.”

“Yeah, well,” Shane replies guardedly. “It was a pretty big guy, so.” Because Shane hates the insinuation that he wouldn’t have been capable of defending himself. He was just drunk, and Nikolai was huge, and maybe Shane had been a tiny bit naïve.

“Hey.” Troy steps up to them cautiously. “Everything okay over here?”

Shane sighs, but he isn’t shocked when he looks over his shoulder to find Harris hovering close by, too. “It’s fine. Guys, look. I’m really tired. I appreciate the concern, but I need to get some ice on my shoulder before I go to sleep.” He turns back to face Wyatt. “We’re good, yeah? No harm done.”

Wyatt breaks into a slow grin. “Cool. Hey, I’m still looking forward to that Intro to BDSM night at the club. Tell Rozy Lisa’s been asking me about it.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees, offering up a tired smile. “Will do.” Although if Shane was going to talk to Ilya about anything in the next twelve hours, it certainly wouldn’t be about Lisa or Wyatt.

Shane goes to follow Wyatt on his way to the elevator, but Troy stops him before he gets there.

“I wasn’t kidding about my shoulder,” Shane says seriously.

Troy doesn’t reply, though. Instead, he just steps forward and wraps his arms tightly around Shane’s waist.

Shane stands frozen for a few seconds before he relents, winding his own arms around Troy’s shoulders as he lets the stress of the day melt out of him.

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” Troy mutters into his neck. “About anything.”

“I know,” Shane frowns, his eyebrows slightly pressed together. “I know that.”

“I feel like you’re going through all this shit and you’re keeping it all inside and…I don’t know…I’m worried about you,” Troy expresses earnestly. “Have you talked to Ilya about this?”

“Of course,” Shane answers automatically because Ilya is the first and only person he’s talked to about it. But admittedly, they hadn’t talked about it in a while, and ever since the new club opened, Shane was starting to think about it more and more. “I have a therapist, too.”

“And you’ve talked to them?”

Shane swallows, pressing his chin more firmly into Troy’s shoulder. He hadn’t actually mentioned the assault to Ms. Hollis. In fact, he hadn’t talked to Ms. Hollis in a while. He’d texted with her briefly around the time of the plane crash. She had heard about the scare and wanted to make sure he was alright. So, Shane poured his entire heart into five very long messages, and then chickened out when she encouraged him to make an appointment. Maybe this was the push he needed to do that.

“I will,” Shane promises, and he’s hyper-aware of the fact that Ms. Hollis is from California, so it’s highly possible that she is actually licensed to treat him once they get to their next stop. “I’ll call her tomorrow if she’s available, okay?”

Troy squeezes him, rocking him from side to side for a second. “I love you. Promise me you’ll tell me if you’re ever not okay.”

“I swear,” Shane nods against him.

By the time he gets back to his room, including a quick stop at the ice machine for his arm, Shane is pawsitively exhausted. He already showered after his game, but he feels gross from being at the casino, so he forces himself into another one. It’s almost worth it for the way he gets to bathe in Ilya’s scent right before he goes to sleep.

After brushing his teeth, he plugs his phone in and then lays on his stomach so he can put the wrapped ice on his shoulder while checking his text messages. His heart thrums in anticipation when he sees three missed texts from Ilya.

Ilya: You did so well for me tonight. I’m so proud of you for getting your hat tricks two games in a row. I knew you could do it, but as always, you exceed every single one of my wildest expectations.

Ilya: Get some rest, baby. Only five more sleeps until you are in my arms again. I am counting down the minutes. x

The third message is a voice recording with a timestamp of 22 minutes and 55 seconds. Shane quickly reaches for his headphones, plugs them into his phone, and presses play.

“Hi, angel,” comes Ilya’s raspy voice. “I am tired of talking to this stupid device and pretending it is you, but I am trying my best to imagine you are really there. I mean, obviously you will be when you are listening, but…you know what I mean.”

Shane smiles to himself.

“You are probably all tiny and cute in the big hotel bed. Actually, right now you’re probably at the casino. Hopefully not spending all of my money. But you are a good boy who does what he’s told,” he says warmly through the phone. “I am so lucky,” his tone softens. “I have never, ever met anyone like you. There are days where I can hardly believe you’re mine. I do not feel worthy of someone so incredible.”

Shane swallows, pressing the tip of his nose against Ilya’s bear.

“But I know you were made for me. Somehow, I have done enough in this life to deserve you, and even though I do not understand, I will not take it for granted. I will never, ever take you for granted. I promise to never grow lazy and stop planning things to make you smile. I promise to always, always do big gestures. I promise to always make you feel loved and supported, and I promise to always lift you up when you are down.”

“Fuck,” Shane murmurs, rubbing at one of his eyes that has suddenly grown very teary.

“I know we already have tattoos for each other, but I want to get so many more. I never want to stop declaring my love for you—as loudly as I can, and in as many ways as possible. I know we have not been able to go on a real date so far, but I want to change that soon. And I am going to figure out how to be more present for wedding planning. I never want you to look back on this and feel like I wasn’t around enough.”

Shane’s heart is in his throat. His eyes are shut as he listens to Ilya wax poetic about him for the next ten minutes, and then for the last twelve minutes, Ilya shifts his tone to start talking Shane down.

“Such a good boy for me. All curled up with my bear,” Ilya says slowly. Softly. “I miss you so much, sweetheart. I’d do anything to have you in my arms right now. Would you like that, baby? Being all wrapped up in your husband’s big arms? Me keeping you safe from everything. Making your thoughts go silent, shutting your pretty head off. You deserve to relax, sweet boy. You deserve to let me do all the thinking for you. Can you do that for me? Can you relax all your muscles for me?”

Shane lets himself go bone-dead against the sheets.

“Good boy. Oh, that’s perfect. Thank you for being so good for me.”

-

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby,” Ilya laughs while rubbing at his nose with a tissue. “Sleep alright?”

“So good,” Shane affirms, and Ilya can tell he’s smiling in that really beautiful, sated way.

“Did you like my voice message?”

“I loved it,” Shane murmurs softly. “So much. Thank you for sending it.”

“Of course,” Ilya replies, chewing at his lower lip for a moment. “Is everything okay?”

A pause from the other end of the line.

“It’s just that…Harris mentioned you opened up to the guys last night. About, you know. What happened at the club.”

Another beat of silence, and then a sigh. “I shouldn’t have told them.”

“What? No.” Ilya sits up a bit, his eyebrows pinched together. “Shane—”

“I booked an appointment with my therapist,” Shane cuts him off. “To talk about it. I guess it’s sort of been on my mind ever since we went to the new club,” he admits. “I’ve been trying to push it down, but…I think I need to dig into it a little bit.”

“I—” Ilya frowns, nodding seriously even though he knows Shane can’t see him. “I think that’s a good idea. When is your appointment?”

“Later today when we land. She’s licensed in California, and she had a last-minute cancellation, so. I figured I’d get it over with,” Shane supplies.

“You’ll be okay?” Ilya double-checks, still gnawing at the inside of his lower lip.

“Yeah,” Shane attempts to ease his worries. “I’m good, I swear. Did, um…” he puffs a laugh. “Did Harris tell you anything else?”

“Like what?” Ilya asks slowly, hoping to god that it is nothing at all similar to the first revelation.

“I won $18,000.”

“Excuse me?” Ilya’s jaw drops around an open smile. “Are you serious? Off the original $200?”

“Yeah, well. I guess I technically only won $17,800, but Wyatt convinced the entire team to go all in on 24 black at the roulette board. Said I was the team’s good luck charm, and everyone should pet me for good luck. We won about $65,000 total between us off that one number.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ilya grins as he shakes his head in disbelief. “You really are the team’s good luck charm, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Shane says giddily. “Hey, I gotta go. Our plane is boarding. But I’ll text you as soon as we land, okay? I love you.”

“Have a safe flight. I love you so much.”

And then the line clicks dead.

Ilya sits there processing for a minute. Shane had only been away from him for a few days and, already, he was leading their team to victory, breaking records, scoring consecutive hat tricks. It wasn’t just that, though. It was also the fact that Shane had felt confident enough to open up to the team, had felt capable and self-aware enough to book himself a therapy appointment—to realize he needed one. Now, the only thing Ilya was left questioning was whether Shane needed him. Or was he like everyone else in Ilya’s life? Better off without him.

-

“Ilya?” Troy questions knowingly.

Shane’s lips curl as he nods.

“Did you get to sleep okay last night?” Troy tips his head. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Good,” Shane says confidently. “I’m gonna do some easy recovery today. Ice it some more. I should be better by tomorrow.”

“And you slept okay?” Troy repeats, still looking at Shane searchingly, like he’s feeling extra cautious after what Shane revealed to him last night.

“I slept really well,” Shane responds, playfully tugging on one of Troy’s hoodie strings. “Ilya keeps leaving me these sweet goodnight recordings to fall asleep to.” His heart flutters in his chest at how thoughtful his partner could be. “His voice is all extra raspy right now, and he…just…god,” Shane sighs longingly. “He sounds so sexy. I miss him so much.”

“That’s so fucking cute,” Troy whines. “No one’s ever left me goodnight recordings to fall asleep to. What did it say?”

“Mostly just how he’s so proud of me for breaking the record. And for my hat tricks,” Shane smiles. “He just kept going on about how much he loves me and how he doesn’t deserve me, but he’s going to make sure I never have to question whether what we have is real. That was about ten minutes of it, and then the other half, he just kind of praise-talked me to sleep.” Shane flushes. “I don’t even think I made it till the end.”

“He left you a twenty-minute voice recording?” Troy’s mouth falls open.

“Twenty-three minutes,” Shane murmurs, but his eyes are extremely gooey.

“Holy fuck, you are so lucky,” Troy groans, while collapsing his forehead onto Shane’s good shoulder. “Ilya’s like the most romantic guy in the world, I swear. Meanwhile, I can’t come up with a single good date idea for me and Harris.”

Shane laughs, reaching out to place a consoling hand on Troy’s back. “Well, maybe I can help. Recently, I’ve been trying to brainstorm ideas on what to get Ilya for Christmas. I don’t think he usually celebrates, so it’ll be kinda like his first. I really want to knock it out of the park.”

“Really? What have you been thinking so far?” Troy asks.

Shane bites his lower lip. “Um…a Lamborghini?” he gets out shyly.

“Are you serious?” Troy laughs as he slowly pulls out of Shane’s grip.

“Yeah,” Shane frowns. “Why? Is that bad?”

“Isn’t a Lamborghini, like, several hundred thousand dollars?”

“Yeah.” Shane’s eyebrows furrow. “Do you think it’s too much?”

Troy clutches onto Shane’s good shoulder and cackles that much harder.

“Oh my god. What are you two up to now?” Harris finds them with an amused smile on his face.

“Oh, nothing. Shane’s just not sure what model of Lamborghini to get Ilya for Christmas,” Troy snorts, wiping at the tears in his eyes.

“Definitely one with the scissor doors,” Wyatt declares, swinging an arm around Shane’s neck. “I saw Roz looking at pictures of those on Instagram.”

“Really?” Shane turns to him. “Did you happen to see what color?”

Wyatt’s face furrows in thoughtful concentration. “Maybe green? Or it could have been purple, but…with Rozy’s Porsche, I think the brighter the better. He likes to show off what’s his.”

Shane flushes at the insinuation. He definitely knew all about that, being someone that was very much Ilya’s.

“Are you gonna do a custom wrap, Shane?” Holmberg chimes in as they board the plane. “Custom interior and stuff?”

“Oh, that would be fucking cool,” Wyatt agrees. “You could get his hockey number on the side like a racecar or something.”

Shane pulls out his phone to start taking notes.

“Knowing Roz, you might as well put I + S in as many places as you can,” LaPointe snickers.

“Totally. Or like ‘Love, Shane’ on the interior,” Bood grins. “He would totally eat that up.”

Shane furiously types all the ideas into his Christmas list note.

“Might as well see if they can print a cat on there, too. There’s nothing Rozy loves more than his kitten,” Wyatt says warmly. “Hey, Shane? Wanna sit with me on the plane? I’ve got my iPad. We could download a movie or something?”

“Ilya told me about the kitten TV app,” Harris offers lightly. “I could show Hazy on the app store. If you feel like looking at some fish?”

“Um,” Shane replies tentatively, looking between all of the guys who seem to be watching him with entirely open expressions. “I’ll be fine. I can just sit by myself. I’ll probably just try to get some shut-eye anyway.”

But the Centaurs are shooting each other worried looks, like Shane sitting by himself is the last thing they want.

“If you want to sit with Troy, I can sit somewhere else,” Harris suggests. “I don’t mind sitting with Luca.”

“But…” Troy trails, frowning slightly. His expression morphs, however, at whatever he must see in Harris’ eyes. “I mean, totally. Yeah. Wanna sit with me today, Shane?”

Shane appreciates that everyone’s trying to make him feel comfortable. Maybe they were still a little on edge from his revelation last night, but right now, it’s coming across as slightly forced. Like no one really wants to sit with him so much as they just want to ensure he’s okay.

“No,” Shane says decisively. “You should sit with Harris. I’ll, um, I’ll just sit alone today. My shoulder could use the extra room. It’ll be nice to stretch out.”

Luca frowns. “But Ilya said—”

“Haas,” Wyatt cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Let’s just give him some space, yeah?”

“Shane doesn’t want space,” Shane hears Troy whisper to Harris, but Harris’ reply is unintelligible.

Shane didn’t really want space, but he also hated feeling like a burden. Mostly, he just wanted Ilya. He pulls Ilya’s hood over his head and tries to make himself as small as possible as soon as he gets to his empty row.

He hasn’t sat on a plane alone since the crash, so he isn’t expecting the swooping, scary feeling in his tummy when they speed up for take-off. Usually, Ilya would be distracting him with a movie by now, or Troy would be telling some stupid joke, but instead, Shane just feels scared. He closes his eyes tightly and presses his forehead against the side of the plane as everything jerks, as they lift into the air and the pressure inside his ears starts to build. He doesn’t realize how fast he’s breathing until Troy pokes his head through the crack of the seats in front of him.

“Shane, breathe,” Troy says urgently, sticking his hand back awkwardly for Shane to grab onto. “You’re okay. Everything’s Gucci.”

Shane swallows and shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hold Troy’s hand right now. He doesn’t want Luca petting him or Wyatt pulling up fish games on his iPad. He just wants this stupid week to be over.

When he wakes up thirty minutes later, Wyatt has suddenly appeared in the seat next to him. Shane’s been crying in his sleep, apparently, because his eyes are wet. He rubs at them half-heartedly while trying to make sense of what’s going on.

“Sorry, bud. Rozy said we’re not allowed to let you sit alone on the plane,” Wyatt informs him, and something about that statement is enough to make Shane completely give up on trying to hold himself together.

His face crumples as Wyatt lifts one of his arms, and before Shane knows it, he’s being comforted by Wyatt fucking Hayes, crying into their star goalie’s muscled chest. He’s fucking pathetic, probably, but Shane doesn’t care. He’s got a really cool and accepting team. A team that asks his Dom for permission to pet his hair, or in this case, Harris Drover.

“Cool with me if it’s cool with Shane,” Harris smiles from one row up.

“Shane?” Wyatt whispers.

Shane forces himself to look up, sniffling with red-rimmed eyes to find Wyatt holding one hand out in offering. Shane swallows and leans forward to sniff his fingers on instinct. Wyatt smells like Coke. It reminds Shane of Ilya.

He nudges his head right up into Wyatt’s waiting palm, practically purring in relief at how good it feels to have someone similar to Ilya touching him. Troy was great, and so was Luca, but neither of them shared Ilya’s large stature. Not like Wyatt did.

“Aw,” Wyatt coos, pouting as he looks up at Troy and Harris, who are still watching them cautiously. “He’s the sweetest thing.”

“Told you,” Troy grins. “He likes scratches through the hair at the nape of his neck, but be careful of his tattoos.”

Wyatt frowns in confusion, tipping Shane’s head forward against his chest a bit until he can look at the back of his neck. “Oh my god. Are those kitten ears?”

Shane purrs a little louder as Wyatt gives him a scritch.

“Dude, what the fuck. That is so freaking cute.”

It may not be exactly what he needs, but it’s enough to have Shane relaxed for the rest of the plane ride. The voices continue all around him; Shane blocks it out in favor of getting to be a sleepy, cuddly kitten who’s none the wiser. An hour later, he wakes to his cheek on Wyatt’s thigh, and a heavy hand resting in his hair.

“Morning, kitty,” Wyatt whispers down at him, raking his fingers across Shane’s scalp. “Good cat nap?”

Shane huffs and shuts his eyes again, burrowing into the front of Wyatt’s hoodie.

“He’s probably a bit down,” Harris’ voice comes from somewhere far away. “He might be a little clingy until we can get him a snack. Here, see if you can get some water into him.”

Wyatt shifts, jostling Shane slightly, which causes him to grumble in annoyance. “You thirsty, buddy? I’ve got a water bottle from Harris for you.”

Shane is sort of thirsty, but mostly he’s so comfortable. Mostly, he was enjoying being able to disappear for a bit.

“Shane, you want me to call Ilya for you? I know he’s waiting for a text from you that we got in all right,” Harris suggests, and that causes Shane to sit up in awareness.

Troy smiles softly at him, slipping his phone through the crack of the seats.

“Is Wyatt giving you good pets, kitten?”

Shane’s eyes shut as Wyatt scratches his head again with his big fingers.

“Dude, he’s eating your pets up. Guys,” Bood whines. “Kitten Shane’s already developing favorites. I’m gonna fall behind before I’ve even begun!”

“You might want to start by lowering your voice,” Wyatt says from deep within his chest, just like Ilya might. “The first thing I learned throughout this plane ride is…you have to be zen.”

“Meaning, LaPointe is never getting to pet Shane at this point,” Holmberg cackles.

“Yeah, and neither are you, jackass,” LaPointe fires back with narrowed eyes.

By the time they get to the hotel, Shane is mostly back to being human. He was never that far down to begin with, but after a bite to eat and a bottle of water that Harris practically forces him to guzzle, Shane’s ready to take on his therapy appointment.

He smiles nervously when Ms. Hollis’ face pops up on the secure video chat network.

“Hi, Ms. Hollis.”

She laughs in greeting. “Shane, I’ve told you countless times that you can just call me Amy.”

Shane knows, but he’s never going to feel comfortable calling her that.

They spend some time catching up on all the things they’ve missed. Shane and Ilya’s engagement. Wedding planning. His new pet friend Brooks. He even tells her about the club, about Troy and Harris, about Ivan and Cedric—though he doesn’t go too far into detail there. But, pretty soon, Shane knows he has to get into the bad stuff. They’ve already touched on the plane crash briefly, so he starts there, and then, it’s time for the sexual assault.

He explains the situation from top to bottom: being too drunk, going to Ilya’s club without telling him first, not feeling capable of dealing with anything himself anymore. He used to be stronger; he’s sure of it. He used to survive just fine without Ilya, but Ms. Hollis reminds him that that’s all he was doing—surviving, not thriving.

“You may not realize it, Shane, but you’ve been through a lot of trauma,” she makes a point of telling him. “I’m not just talking about the plane crash or the sexual assault. I’m talking about the years of hiding and shoving your feelings aside. The years of punishing yourself for something you couldn’t control. I think you’re idealizing a single aspect of that period of your life—your independence—while also minimizing how painful it actually was for you. You’re grieving a sense of security you feel like you used to have, but you’re leaving out key factors of your emotional state during that time. You may have been more capable of functioning on your own, but it certainly came with its own set of consequences.”

Apparently, it’s not that he’s incapable of taking care of himself; it’s just that his nervous system might be borrowing safety from someone he trusts—Ilya—while it recovers. Ms. Hollis calls it co-regulation, and she says it’s often confused with co-dependency. Co-regulation can be mutual and grounding, occurring when two people have the ability to help their partner process stress and feel emotionally safe. Co-dependency, on the other hand, means to rely on a partner fully to fix your emotional state rather than taking responsibility for your own self-regulation. She says that just by Shane booking this appointment for himself, she’s confident that he and Ilya fall much closer to co-regulation than co-dependency.

“Think of it like this: instead of measuring yourself by how much you can do completely on your own, start by gradually testing how much you can take on over time. You’re not suddenly incapable just because you’re getting some extra emotional support, but it also doesn’t mean you can take on as much as you used to. Your mental state has changed due to your experiences. There’s no reason to make this a competition with your past self. All that matters is whether you feel safe, comfortable, and capable in your own life. That is our only goal for you here.”

Eventually, they’re able to boil his assault down to three key themes:

1. Self-blame: feeling at fault for being too drunk
2. Relationship guilt: regret over not giving Ilya a heads-up about where he would be
3. Shame: fear of being seen as weak for being a man who was assaulted

It’s not something they’re going to be able to tackle all in one session, she warns him. He’ll need to stay on top of seeing her if he expects to make headway on any of his dark thoughts, but it’s not hopeless. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and most importantly, someone sees him. Someone hears him. Someone thinks he's not totally fucked in the brain department, and for some reason, that reassures Shane more than anything. All he’s ever wanted to be is normal; according to Ms. Hollis, and taking all his thoughts and feelings into consideration, he very much is.

-

The Centaurs win their game the next day in San Jose. Shane doesn’t score a hat trick, but he still scores twice, and when he nearly scores a third time, Ilya swears the entire arena is cheering for him. The announcer won’t stop talking about the rising ticket prices for their upcoming game in Anaheim, how odds were already tipping in favor of Ottawa winning as Captain Shane Hollander continued to uncover the team’s untapped potential. There’s no mention of Ilya’s name this time, even though he’s missed three games and they still haven’t given a statement on when he’ll be back. It doesn’t sound like the announcer is wondering; it just sounds like they’ve accepted Shane as the new Captain of the Centaurs.

He gets another brief phone call after the victory, but then Shane is off to celebrate with the boys.

What about me, Ilya wonders. If you were sick at home, all I’d want is to go back to my hotel room and talk to you. But he knows it’s not rational. He knows he’s three hours ahead and that Shane, more than anything, just wants him to get his rest so he can start feeling better by the time Shane gets home. Still, it doesn’t make the days go by any easier, and certainly not the nights.

It’s even worse when Moose starts to take pity on him because Ilya has started crying himself to sleep and Moose, being the very perceptive kitten that he is, always seems to find him. He’ll poke his big, fluffy head through the crack in Ilya’s door and then stalk forward, jumping until all his long, furry limbs have landed by Ilya’s feet. Then, he’ll work his way over to the head of the bed, pushing his face up against Ilya’s until Ilya has no choice but to accept the large creature in his arms and cry into his soft fur. It’s pretty counterproductive, though, because it always makes Ilya miss Shane that much more.

Shane’s calls are less frequent the longer the trip goes on, and as Ilya gets better, he becomes more restless. He’s itching to text Shane, itching to ask the guys about him, to demand pictures from them. He’s going fucking stir-crazy trapped in the house while his husband and all of their friends are on the other side of the continent. Yuna and David still come by occasionally for a meal or a game, but other than that, Ilya is left completely alone. He spends nearly $10,000 in a single day online shopping.

When Shane wins his final game in Anaheim, he doesn’t immediately call Ilya. Ilya sits in his same spot on the couch, watching the Hollanders clean up around him, and waits for the vibration that always comes after Shane has led their team to victory. Only this time, it doesn’t. Ilya waits fifteen minutes. Thirty. Maybe Shane got pulled into interviews early. Maybe he couldn’t escape before the guys started hounding him. Maybe he needed ice for his obviously sore shoulder. Maybe he was simply feeling overstimulated and in need of a shower.

Ilya keeps telling himself that as the Hollanders collect their things, including Moose. They haven’t stayed the past couple of nights, but it’s okay because Shane is coming back tomorrow. Which means that Ilya won’t have to be lonely anymore.

He’s feeling a lot better, but he still has a dry cough and a sore body. He still hasn’t had a decent night's sleep without Shane, not a real one, anyway—one where he doesn’t wake up in a fit of nausea or dry sweats, or gasp himself awake out of fear that something terrible has happened to Shane in his absence; however, the worse reality is that Shane is doing just fine without him. He’s leading the team to countless victories. He’s playing better than he’s ever played in his life. He doesn’t even really seem like he’s missing Ilya anymore, like he’s gotten used to being on the road without him. The thought festers away in Ilya’s head long after the Hollanders have left.

-

“Woah,” Bood laughs loudly as Shane’s paw comes down hard on the plane window.

But before he knows it, the red dot is on the seat in front of him, then the ceiling, then Wyatt’s knee.

“Ouch, kitty,” Wyatt winces when Shane’s sharp nails dig into the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Oh my god, you’re so bad at this,” Troy complains, making grabby hands for the laser pointer. “Bood, give it to me. Seriously.”

“No way,” Bood scoffs. “You always get to play with Shane. It’s finally my turn.”

“Maybe that’s cause Shane is my best friend. Go play with Wyatt.”

“No,” Bood frowns. “Wyatt isn’t a cute, little cat.”

“I’m the one who found the laser pointer in the gift shop in the first place,” Holmberg reminds everyone. “I can totally call dibs and take it away.”

“Yeah, but you were moving it like crazy all over the plane.” LaPointe rolls his eyes. “It’s not fun if he can’t even get to it.”

“The whole fucking point is to move it around and make him go crazy for it.” Holmberg narrows his eyes in response.

“Dude, cats get bored if you never let them get it eventually. Like, sure, the chase is half the fun, but not if there’s no long-term gain.”

“Oh my god. It’s a laser pointer for our teammate who thinks he’s a cat. It’s not that fucking serious.”

Shane growls—first, at the insinuation that he’s not a real cat, and, second, at the fact that everyone is so caught up in the semantics of this pointless argument that they’ve stopped moving the laser pointer altogether.

“Guys, he’s getting mad,” Luca warns, glancing back at Troy and Harris like he’s waiting for them to call rank and step in.

“He’s just a playful kitty,” Wyatt appeases, petting over Shane’s hair, which Shane happily leans into.

He and Wyatt are totally vibing lately. It’s a good resolution to not wanting to get in the way of Troy and Harris, while also not entirely loving Luca’s shy approach. Over the last few days, Wyatt has proven to be the near-perfect fill-in while Shane’s been desperately waiting to get back home to Ilya.

Talking on the phone with him has gotten harder and harder, so much so that Shane’s been sort of avoiding him to prevent himself from thinking about it too hard. But they’re on the way home right now, and pretty soon, Shane will be back in his husband’s arms where he belongs. He’s just resorting to being a cat in the meantime to avoid having to deal with the painful mass of feeling that’s been building up in his throat.

The laser pointer comes back to life soon after that, and Shane spends the next hour losing his mind to it before he finally starts to tucker himself out. They’ve got an eight-hour plane ride in total, but Shane is so exhausted with being a human. He’s in the home stretch. He just needs to regulate himself enough to make it home to his safety person.

So, he sleeps on Wyatt’s shoulder. He holds hands with Troy through the crack of the seat in front of him. He even lets Wyatt put on kitty TV for a bit and has himself a time pawing at the fish.

He refuses to eat the food they bring through the cabin for lunch, but Harris convinces him to at least have some of the salad and a pack of nuts. Harris even forfeits his own soda in order to keep an extra ginger ale for Shane when the plane starts experiencing turbulence, and all the guys make a point of commenting on how well-behaved Shane is. How he’s doing so well. How Ilya has trained him to be the most perfect kitty cat. How they all feel so lucky to have him on their team.

Shane is feeling like the most loved cat in the world, and by the time they land, he’s sleepy, sated, and spent. Wyatt wakes him up with a gentle hand in his hair, and when Shane blinks awake, he finds Troy staring at him with a fond smile.

“Ready to see Ilya soon?”

And suddenly, Shane is hit with all of the emotions he’s been pushing down for the past few days. His face wavers as he nods, but Wyatt rubs his shoulder consolingly.

“Just a few more hours.”

But it feels like a lifetime. They still have to get off the plane, go through customs, and then it’s a thirty-minute drive back to his and Ilya’s. Shane’s hungry, he’s tired, and he’s socially spent.

He and Troy link pinkies throughout the whole customs process. Shane doesn’t even care who sees them; he just needs grounding, physical touch right now. He’s a little down, a little quiet, and he’s thankful that all of the other boys seem equally wiped from the trip. He doesn’t think he could handle any riled-up energy right now.

When they all finally break to head to their cars, the boys each stop to hug him individually. They won four games in a row, their longest streak so far this season, and Shane did that. Shane led them there. He can handle himself without Ilya; this time, there’s irrefutable proof.

“Tell Ilya we said hello, and that we miss him,” Harris smiles as he pulls out of the embrace. “Hopefully, he’s back in action this week. I know you guys are just going to keep playing better and better as the season goes on. The playoffs are looking very, very good right now.”

Troy squeezes him next, and Shane sinks into his touch more than he did with any of their other teammates, letting his friend rock him in his arms.

“You did so good this week, for real. Ilya’s so proud of you and this team is really lucky to have you. I’m really lucky to have you. Okay?” Troy pulls back to assess him properly.

Shane just sniffles and nods, trying to keep himself together. He’s in the home stretch. He just has to make it the thirty minutes back to his house.

“Love you, man. Get some rest, and I’ll see you at the next practice.”

“Love you,” Shane smiles in response, clutching onto Troy’s hand one more time before they finally separate.

His heart is beating out of his chest the entire ride home. It’s been just over a week, but so much has happened that it feels like a lot longer. Ilya went to the hospital. Shane broke a record. He won $18,000, and all he wants to do is put it into buying Ilya a car.

It feels anti-climactic when the front door shuts behind him and he’s met with nothing but silence. Shane frowns and swallows the lump in his throat. It’s approaching 8pm. He hadn’t told Ilya he landed or that he was on his way home, but Ilya was supposed to be tracking his flight. Had Ilya forgotten he was coming home today? Is he so sick that he wouldn’t be waiting up for him?

Shane’s stomach growls, and his shoulder is throbbing, and he doesn’t think he can handle Ilya not being okay right now. But after a thorough look around the house, he finds Ilya lying in their bed, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t even glance up when Shane steps into the room.

“Didn’t you hear me come in?” Shane asks, hurt etched across his face.

“I heard,” Ilya mutters non-committedly, but he still won’t look at him.

“You don’t even care that I’m back?” Shane fires out, but his voice shakes, and it comes out less scathing than he means for it to.

“You’ve been ignoring my phone calls and texts. I figured I would see how you like it.”

Shane scoffs and drops his bag loudly on the floor before heading back into the living room. He’s angry. A whole week of being apart and Ilya is playing some stupid, childish game, withholding affection, and for what? To teach Shane a lesson? To prove some stupid point?

God, Shane can’t take this right now. Not with the stress of this week. Not after he’s been going out of his mind all day in anticipation of seeing Ilya. And this is the greeting he gets?

Shane circles the living room aimlessly for a second, trying to figure out what to do with himself and his restless mind. He stalks over to the playroom and gives the handle on the door a healthy tug, thinking he might go straight for his crate to try and calm down, but there’s no use. It’s locked in a way that Shane will never be able to access on his own, not unless he’s somehow able to get Ilya’s face in front of the facial recognition pad.

So, feeling completely overwhelmed and scared and over-stimulated from being on the plane all day, Shane buries his head in his hands and lowers himself to the ground just outside of it, pressing his back against the door. He wants to shower, but he can’t go back into their bedroom right now. And he could shower in one of the other rooms, but what’s the point anyway if Ilya’s not the one washing his hair? How could Ilya hear him come in and intentionally stay away after spending a week apart? How was he not bursting out of his skin with a desire to hug Shane? To kiss him fiercely. Was he that prideful? Did he have zero understanding of how Shane’s mind worked by now?

He doesn’t know how much longer he sits there before he feels Ilya’s presence beside him, but the second a hand slips across his thigh, Shane is done for. His face crumples and he latches onto Ilya like a man possessed, scrambling to get all of his long limbs wrapped around the other until they’re one fully connected body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ilya is whispering over and over again, and Shane shakes as he sobs into Ilya’s neck. “That was stupid and childish. I didn’t mean it. I should have greeted you as soon as you got home.”

“Fuck you,” Shane cries, shaking his head. “You’re not allowed to be mad at me after I’ve spent this whole week going out of my mind with worry.”

“You stopped calling me—”

“Because it fucking hurt! I couldn’t miss you anymore. I couldn’t fucking handle how much it hurt knowing you were here all alone and there was nothing I could do to help or take care of you—”

“You did take care of me,” Ilya vows, gripping onto Shane’s hips firmly to ground him. “You sent your parents. You told them to bring Moose to keep me company even though I know how jealous that must have made you.”

“Fuck that cat,” Shane hisses, and it pulls a laugh from Ilya.

“Fuck, I missed you so much. Your smell.” Ilya breathes him in deeply.

“Gross.” Shane wrinkles his nose. “I probably smell like airport.”

“And I probably smell like sickness, but I do not care. It feels so good to touch you.”

Shane sighs and rubs his teary face all over Ilya’s warm neck. “Are you…are you feeling better? I was so worried.”

“I am mostly just sore and exhausted and sick of sitting around this house. I am going out of my mind with boredom,” Ilya admits, pulling back to cup Shane’s cheek and assess him properly.

They’re all over each other in a pile on the floor. Shane pouts ridiculously as Ilya thumbs at his tear tracks.

Ilya smiles and shakes his head. “You are so fucking gorgeous. Even prettier in person. These freckles.”

“Shut up,” Shane grumbles because he’s still upset over the lack of welcome greeting.

“You can be angry kitty if you want, but it is only going to make me find you even sexier.”

Shane turns sharply to bite hard at Ilya’s finger.

“Hazy sent me a picture of you sleeping on his lap on the plane,” Ilya mentions lightly, and Shane swallows, eyebrows pressing together. “The boys were taking good care of you, yes?”

“It’s not—” Shane feels the need to defend. “It’s not like that.”

Ilya huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “I know you are not interested in Wyatt, baby. I was a little jealous, mostly because I was missing you so much, but I am glad the boys are so good to you.”

Shane sighs heavily and collapses back into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around Ilya’s neck. “I just needed something. I’m trying so hard not to slip into old habits, but sometimes, it feels like the only thing I can control when things feel so…out of control.”

“I will accept you getting pets from the boys over you hurting yourself every single time,” Ilya agrees, gliding his hand across the expanse of Shane’s lower back. He makes an inquisitive noise when his fingers catch on the fabric under Shane’s hoodie.

Shane frowns as Ilya starts tugging at the zipper of his jacket, pulling it open to reveal one of his spare Centaurs jerseys.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ilya laughs happily, dragging his hand across Shane’s abdomen. “You were wearing my jersey the whole plane ride? Baby,” he shakes his head fondly.

“You really think I wasn’t missing you like crazy?” Shane asks quietly, brown eyes looking him over.

Ilya swallows and shrugs, running his hands over Shane’s hips. “It seemed like you were all doing just fine without me. You led the team to victory four times in a row. You broke a record. You got two hat tricks. It is almost like they are better off with you as their Captain.”

Shane cuts that thought off by pulling Ilya into a desperate kiss, his fingers slipping through the other’s golden curls to fit their mouths as close together as possible. He hums when Ilya moans and wraps his arms that much more tightly around him, unable to help the frantic little whimpering sound that spills out of him.

Shane gasps the second they separate, but not before laving his tongue all over Ilya’s pretty face.

“You are the best Captain in the fucking world,” Shane tells him fiercely, holding Ilya’s face steady so the other is forced to hear every word. “The only reason I was so motivated to win those games is because I wanted to make you proud. Hockey doesn’t even fucking matter anymore if you’re not there by my side. You are, without a doubt, the most important thing in my life, Ilya. I don’t want you to ever, ever question that. Everything else is just background noise. I love hockey, and I’m always going to love hockey, but I’m never going to need it the way I need you. The only reason I’m even on this amazing team is because you made it happen. None of this would exist if it weren’t for you. You’re literally like the founding father of the future of this franchise, all because you had a vision and you executed it.”

Ilya smiles, eyes grazing over his face as he takes in each sentiment. “The only reason I’m on this team is because I wanted to be closer to you,” Ilya reminds him pointedly. “And you are the best player in the league, possibly in history. I cannot at all take credit for these victories.”

“Fine, but it doesn’t change the fact that I have no desire to be Captain,” Shane relents. “As far as I’m concerned, everyone on this team reports to you. Especially me. I am so sick of making decisions. I don’t want to think about anything for the next week.”

“Mm,” Ilya hums, hugging him closely again. “That can very much be arranged. I am going to do all the thinking, and you can be my pretty, little kitten for me.”

Shane shakes in a mix between a shudder and a purr. He’s back where he belongs.

-

Chapter End Notes

I was absolutely floored by all the nice comments on the last chapter. So many of you absolutely made my day, you have no idea, thank you so much!! I really hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter as a treat for being so wonderful!

Thanks for your patience as always! I am going out of town for a few days, but I will try to still see you for our regularly scheduled bi-weekly update. Next up, Ilya is planning something BIG :)

Love hearing your thoughts, so please let me know. We are juggling a lot of plot points right now, so don't hold it against me that I can't keep you updated on every single character every chapter, but everything will be addressed in time <3

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

contains brief hollanov daddy kink, daddy kink between another pairing, temperature play, wax play, and possibly some piss (nothing crazy). also kitten space. did i mention shane is a kitten?

Ilya and Shane spend all day Wednesday in bed. Ilya’s skin just feels too good against Shane’s. He can’t stop linking their fingers together, can’t stop pulling him in for slow, lazy kisses, can’t stop rubbing himself all over Ilya’s strong, naked body.

“You are so cuddly today, котёнок,” Ilya comments fondly.

But Shane doesn’t feel cuddly; that isn’t the right word for it. Shane feels needy. He needs Ilya all over him, despite the fact that Ilya is still a little sniffly and tired. According to the doctor, he might feel fatigued for another week or so, and Shane can definitely see it in him. He has dark circles stamped under his eyes, but he’s so handsome regardless, and admittedly, Shane is getting turned on. He’s gone over a week without being touched by his man, and his body is craving it. It’s like Ilya’s hands on him are the spark that lights the livewire running through him.

Ilya’s watching him with a casualness to his expression, but Shane feels feral right now.

Ilya raises his eyebrows when Shane presses his hips forward so his erection brushes against the other’s thigh. “Pervert,” he teases, poking at Shane’s abdomen. “You cannot lie here with your husband for one second without getting fucked in some way, can you?”

“It’s been hours,” Shane argues with a frown because he’s been holding himself off for ages now.

Ilya places his hands behind his head and leans back against the headboard.

“No,” Shane says desperately, his heart falling.

Ilya squints at him. “I did not even say anything.”

“You put your hands behind your head.” Shane pushes onto his elbows to regard Ilya properly. “You only do that when you’re gonna make me get myself off against you.”

“I am sick. Don’t you think you should take care of your poor husband?” Ilya challenges back. “I am supposed to be resting. What do you want me to tell team doctor? That I cannot play our game tomorrow because my baby is so needy? That my kitten is such a slut and he could not go a single day without being fucked into oblivion? Is that what you want, Shane?”

Shane huffs and falls forward until his chin is resting on Ilya’s chest. “You don’t have to fuck me. But do something to me. I could…I could warm your cock,” Shane offers, rubbing the slight stubble of his chin over Ilya’s pec.

Ilya smiles faintly, relinquishing one of his hands so he can push his fingers through the front of Shane’s hair.

Shane immediately sinks closer to him, pushing up into Ilya’s touch.

“You are so beautiful,” Ilya comments, cupping his cheek next. “I want to see your pretty face.”

“I could warm your cock with my ass,” Shane blurts, tangling his legs with Ilya’s so he can hump his growing erection against him.

Ilya huffs and jerks his head in the direction of their bedside table. “Get me some lube,” he orders, and Shane scrambles to comply with the request.

Ilya hadn’t said what he was going to do to him, but if they needed lube, there was a good bet that Shane would get something inside of him. He’s got the lube and has placed it in Ilya’s hand in less than two seconds flat.

“I love you, baby,” Ilya tells him, running an appeasing hand down Shane’s side. “But I am also very exhausted, okay? So, I need you to work with me.”

“I’ll be so good,” Shane promises, bobbing his head eagerly in hopes of being convincing. “Just tell me what to do.”

Ilya smiles and squeezes his bare hip. “Sit on my lap just like you are doing, and fall forward so you are lying fully on my chest.”

Shane nods again and does as he’s told, pressing his cheek right against the spot that Ilya’s big heart is beating against.

“Good boy. Now, just relax for me. I want to take my time touching you. Sometimes, it is nice to slow down. I want to enjoy every second I spend with you, especially when we are having sex. There is no reason to rush when we have forever.”

Shane swallows. He could admit it was nice to go slow sometimes, to have Ilya really worship him, but there were also times where he wanted to be fucked hard and fast. Times where he wanted Ilya’s fingerprints to last on him for days, if not weeks. He’s more in that headspace now, needing to be consumed by his lover, needing to feel sore in ways that hockey could never satiate. Ilya’s sick, though, and Shane understands that. There are more important things than him being a needy, desperate kitty right now.

Still, he sucks in a breath when he hears the bottle of the lube snick open, jumping slightly when Ilya’s warm, wet fingers start to rub over his rim.

“Easy, baby,” Ilya murmurs in his ear. “I am going to pet you down here, finger you a little. I expect lots of kisses and kitten licks. I want you to show me how much you missed me while I was away. After I left you voice notes every single night and you decided I was not even worth a phone call the last two days.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane says immediately because he still feels bad about that. Ilya knew him well enough to know that he’d never ignore him to be malicious, but it also didn’t make it okay. Shane had made a habit out of avoiding communication in the past. He was supposed to have corrected it by now; however, sometimes he still struggled. His mental health could affect him in waves.

“I know you are. I’m not upset with you. I am just feeling a little neglected,” Ilya presses against his ear, kissing him once as he continues to circle his fingers over Shane’s hole.

Shane wraps his arms tightly around Ilya’s neck and turns his head to press a line of kisses across his future husband’s jawline. “I missed you so fucking much,” Shane expresses as he humps down against Ilya’s mostly soft cock. “I should have left you voice notes back so you could fall asleep with me, too. I’m so lucky you did that. I think I would have started to spiral if I didn’t have you talking to me so nice every night.”

“It made me feel better, too,” Ilya whispers, catching Shane’s lips in a kiss when his mouth comes close enough. He then dips his pointer finger past Shane’s rim, pulling a soft moan from the other. “It would have been nice having you here to take care of me, but you know I get so much more out of giving you everything you need. My best, best boy. I will never blame you for expressing yourself differently than I do. I’ll never ask you to be anything other than what you are.”

“And what am I?” Shane gasps, licking across Ilya’s neck before sucking a series of hickeys into the sensitive skin. Satisfaction rumbles through him when Ilya groans.

“Just a baby kitten. Desperate little animal who loves to hump against me to get off. So fucking horny for me all the time. You are lucky I have a high sex drive because I doubt just anyone would be enough for this slutty hole—”

“Fuck,” Shane moans fully, pressing back against Ilya’s finger as it sinks further inside of him.

“God, I was so fucking sick. Could barely even stay awake half the time, but imagine how good it would feel to wake up to a slippery mouth warming my cock,” Ilya fantasizes. “My sexy nurse. Should have put you in a mini skirt. This ass.”

Ilya’s other hand comes down hard on his left ass cheek, and Shane jerks in surprise, biting his fangs into the meat of Ilya’s shoulder.

“God, I love how fucking muscular you are. Love how I can be rough with you and you take it so well. Love carrying you around the house. My stupidly hot husband, best player in the league, best player in history, probably—”

“You’re so fucking strong, it makes me go insane sometimes,” Shane pants his agreement. “You’re so much bigger than when we first got together. I can’t even look at your arms without wanting to kneel at your feet and drool all over myself.”

“Because my pet needs to be carried everywhere by his owner.” Ilya starts pressing another finger in beside the first, and Shane wiggles his hips in anticipation. “Little things I can do to turn you into a brainless, sloppy mess. God, I love watching you lose your mind for me. Love how easily you go into subspace. How hot you are in your kitten space. People at the club think they have seen you down, but they have no fucking idea how far you go for me. No idea what I do to you, do they, baby?”

“I can’t even describe how good it is,” Shane whines. “Makes my brain go all fuzzy. I feel like…like I can’t access my thoughts.”

“Just need me to do all the thinking for you, isn’t that right? Can barely remember your name, just that you are my sweet angel with my collar around your neck.”

“Yes,” Shane nods jerkily, planting his hands on Ilya’s big chest as he tries to perfect the angle of rubbing his bare cock against Ilya’s. “I…I feel bad that I can’t do it for you, sometimes,” he stutters out. “Dom you and make you shut your head off.”

“We are never doing that again. Not after what happened at the cottage,” Ilya growls and pulls Shane more tightly against him. “Plus, I have my own Domspace that I go into. I get high off of it in my own way. There is nothing better in this world than watching you completely lose yourself under my care.”

“Really?” Shane hiccups an inhale, attaching his lips to the underside of Ilya’s jaw so he can suck another mark into his skin. “What’s…what’s your Domspace like?”

Ilya presses the second finger inside of him and scissors his digits expertly, pulling another series of moans from Shane’s lips. “It makes me feel so fucking powerful. To have that type of control over you. Makes me feel like a fucking god. I am laser-focused on your reactions, the way all of it is stemming from my hands. It is like a tunnel vision, and sometimes it is hard to even notice the room around me because I am so tuned in to the sounds you’re making. Colors are more vibrant. Every touch between us feels electric. I am aware of every micro-expression on your face, every twitch, every breath. I could freeze time if you asked me to. Anything to make you feel good. Safe. To give you what you need.”

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Shane gets out. “Oh my god. I love having you take care of me. Makes me feel so important and loved.”

“You are the most important and loved,” Ilya agrees. “My feelings for you are so massive, sometimes it feels like they could explode out of me.”

“Holy shit. Ilya, your fingers.” Shane pants open-mouthed as Ilya presses right against that spot that makes him go absolutely nuts.

“Right there, baby?” Ilya double-checks, massaging into Shane’s prostate.

“Oh, fuck.” Shane closes his eyes tightly, his eyebrows cinched together. He digs his sharp claws into Ilya’s chest, feeling warmth all over his body when Ilya hisses at the sensation.

“I think you are due for another nail appointment soon. You gonna let me pick the design again?”

“I wouldn’t just get my regular pink?” Shane questions, but it breaks off into a groan when Ilya circles his fingers again.

“I can’t want my kitty to get a special design for a special occasion?” Ilya prompts, grazing a third finger across Shane’s rim.

“Special occasion?” Shane’s heart speeds in his chest. “W-what’s the occasion?”

Ilya smirks and pulses the tips of his digits over Shane’s prostate, attaching his lips to his lover’s forehead as Shane writhes in his lap. “Thought you like to be surprised.”

“I do,” Shane reassures quickly cause Ilya always had the best surprises.

“Then, you will get what I tell you to get. You trust me, don’t you?”

“So much,” Shane wheezes desperately. “Is it…is it for the next event or—“

“Partially,” Ilya hums in consideration, like he’s casually fiddling with his favorite toy. Meanwhile, Shane can feel himself going absolutely bone-dead in Ilya’s arms. “The event is not the only thing I have planned for us this week.”

“Oh my god.” Shane’s eyes practically roll back into his head as Ilya massages his prostate continually. “Fuck. I…I’m really close.”

“You gonna come for me, baby?” Ilya taunts, gripping Shane’s left ass cheek tightly in his hand, kneading the plump muscle between his fingers. “Already? That didn’t take much. So horny for me. How’d you go an entire week without me touching you?”

“Miserably,” Shane says back, and his voice cracks around the second syllable. “Just had to—ngh,” he cuts himself off, grinding his dick more incessantly against Ilya’s now fully hard cock.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Ilya coos. “Losing all your words. Just a cock drunk little slut for your owner. Humping me like a tiny baby bunny. I thought you were supposed to serve me, my love. Do I need to lock that stupid thing away so your brain doesn’t get confused? Always so dumb when you think with your dick. It turns your head into mush. I think you just need to be a hole for me. Sit in your cage all day waiting to be used like a good bunny.”

Shane whines and moves his hips faster in swivel motions, the head of his cock bumping deliciously with Ilya’s. He does feel like a cock drunk slut, like he’d do anything Ilya asked with his tongue hanging out of his mouth just to look more docile for him, just to let Ilya into the inner workings of his kitten mind. Except Ilya is calling him bunny right now, so Shane tries to channel that energy. He doesn’t even particularly care what he is in this moment as long as he’s Ilya’s.

“Can I cum? Can I cum, please?” Shane begs, that delectable, familiar feeling building up inside of him.

“Oh, you’re so sweet when you ask for permission,” Ilya laughs, like Shane’s just an object for his amusement. “You really think you deserve to get off after ignoring my calls? Is that what good boys do? I thought you were a good boy.”

“I am,” Shane says frantically, rubbing his face all over Ilya’s neck and chest as if it will help to convince him.

“Prove it to me then. Tell me all the things I want to hear,” Ilya commands, and it’s vague enough that Shane knows he’s being made to work for it. He knows Ilya is still upset with his lack of communication, but he’s giving Shane a chance to redeem himself; Shane’s prepared to give it his all.

“I love you so much,” Shane starts with, because as much as Ilya likes to pretend to be a hardcore tough guy Dom, Shane knows he’s really just a softie at his core. “Make everything so good for me always. Fuck. I love when you take control. When you tell me exactly what I need to hear. When you read my mind, and then decide for me, because I don’t know any better.”

“Dumb little kitty needing his owner to do all the thinking for him. Is that it? You wanna sit at my feet and serve me? Stay home waiting for me like a good housewife while Daddy goes to work? Pays all the bills. Takes care of his baby kitten. Don’t you know you’re too small to play hockey? You should be at home, in my jersey, with a plug up your ass so I have a nice warm hole to sink my big cock into when I get back.”

He’s back to being a kitty, apparently, which is good because Shane feels like that right now. Like a dumb kitty ready to make a mess all over his owner. His brain is getting mushy and far away. He presses his sloppy mouth to Ilya’s nipple, groaning when the other prods at his prostate some more.

“You are lucky I get off on how lazy and messy you are. A lot of Doms make their subs put in more work, but you have it easy with me because I am so gone for you.”

Shane whimpers pathetically while nursing on Ilya’s chest because he’s not trying to be a lazy pet. Ilya just takes him apart so good that sometimes he can’t generate a single ounce of willpower. Instead, all of his energy goes into trying to stay up, trying not to lose himself so much that he collapses and passes out. He’s done that a few times before and woken up to Ilya freaking out on him. The last thing he wants to do is cause his Dom stress, but he doesn’t want to come off as ungrateful either. It’s a tough line to walk; Shane just wants to be so good for him.

“Sh, that’s it, princess. Just whine for me. Rub your useless cock all over me,” Ilya teases, and before Shane can process what’s going on, there’s a third finger inside of him.

Shane’s mouth drops open at the stretch. He’s leaking precum all over his and Ilya’s tummies. Ilya’s rock-hard abs, more like. Shane presses his paw into the strong muscle just to feel how massive Ilya is. It was nice to pretend he was tiny in comparison, sometimes. Wasn’t hard to imagine with the way Ilya’s arms were swelling up like fucking balloons. Even with the week off, his biceps were still growing nearly as big as Shane’s head. With how Ilya’s diet could be, Shane didn’t really understand how it was possible.

“So good holding off for me like that,” Ilya hums, letting go of Shane’s ass in favor of running his calloused hand over Shane’s lower back. “I can’t believe how much stamina you have for a baby kitten. You gonna do whatever I say this week to make me happy? Gonna be extra attentive to my needs to make up for your poor communication yesterday?”

Shane nods, tipping his head slightly to meet Ilya’s eyeline with his hazy, brown stare.

“There’s my silly kitty. Oh, god. You’re such a wreck for me right now, aren’t you? Is your cock starting to hurt, sweet boy? Are you suffering to make Daddy happy? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

Shane shuts his eyes tightly as tears start to fog up his vision. He’s barely moving his hips anymore. Ilya is still massaging his prostate relentlessly, and the type of language he’s using is overwhelming, but Shane deserves it. He probably deserves a whole lot worse for how bad he’s been this week. He needs his kitten training to do better. He needs a punishment.

“Are those good tears or bad tears, baby?” Ilya pauses for a minute. “Remember your colors for me, please. You’re never going to be in trouble for using your colors.”

“I—” Shane hiccups, sniffling as he tries to make sense of the world around him. He feels good, but bad. Pleasure, but pain. “I—”

-

“Shane,” Ilya says in concern, his fingers frozen in place while he waits for Shane to answer his question. A good Dom can always read their sub, though, so Ilya takes it upon himself to assess the signs. Shane’s definitely in kitten space, at least a level 2, but he hasn’t said anything in a few minutes. He could easily be a level 3 right now. From Shane’s eyes, at least, Ilya can confidently infer that he looks out of it. “Are you having trouble with words? We can do paw squeezes, baby. Or blinks if that’s easier,” Ilya propositions. He’s a few seconds away from pulling his fingers out of Shane entirely to start bringing him up, but considering Shane is this close to his orgasm, he doesn’t want to overwhelm him by taking everything away all at once.

“Green.” The word spills out of Shane, except he doesn’t look entirely sure of himself. “Yellow,” he tries again. “Green-yellow.”

Ilya isn’t totally positive on what green-yellow means; however, it’s enough of an indicator to inform his next move. “Do you wanna cum for me, sweetheart? Is that it? You’re a little overwhelmed by the way I was talking to you?”

Shane bites his lip and nods like Ilya has hit the nail right on the head, so Ilya presses his fingers into Shane’s prostate again and reaches between them to take both of their cocks in one of his big hands.

“Good boy,” Ilya soothes, smiling when the notion draws a sure moan out of Shane this time. “Thank you for always knowing your limits, baby. So good at coloring for me.”

Shane shudders as Ilya pumps him faster, and Ilya moans at how good it feels to have Shane come apart under his fingers after a week of missing him so terribly.

“That’s it, angel. Let it all go. You did so well. Why don’t you make a mess all over your Alpha’s chest? Is your owner touching you just right? Making you feel lots of good things, hm? You can let go now. You have my permission.”

Shane practically freezes up under him, his dark eyebrows furrowed together while his hips stutter like crazy back and forth between both of Ilya’s hands.

Ilya can feel Shane’s cock twitching against him as he pumps out long streaks of cum all over Ilya’s abdomen, and Ilya isn’t far behind him. It’s the sight of Shane completely losing himself that does him in in the end, Ilya pulling him close while he humps up against Shane’s writhing body. It’s so fucking satisfying compared to the last time they got off together—three thousand miles away with nothing but a phone connection between them. The only aftercare had come in the form of Ilya verbally directing Shane so he was able to clean himself up and drop himself off at Troy and Harris’ hotel room. Now, Ilya could hold him and take care of him fully.

“Oh, that’s so good. Fuck, you were so incredible for me. Always so gorgeous when you come,” Ilya pacifies, still trying to catch his breath from such a fulfilling orgasm. The two of them are all sticky, covered in lube and jizz, but Ilya is content to just soak in the aftermath for a while.

Shane seems restless, though, and Ilya doesn’t really understand why until Shane has wriggled halfway down his body to start licking up the combination of their releases splayed all over Ilya’s stomach and chest. When it becomes clear that Shane is a kitty on a mission, Ilya offers up his hand as well, watching in a daze as Shane laves his tongue over each one of Ilya’s long fingers. It’s so erotic that Ilya shoves his digits a little further down Shane’s throat, his belly thrumming in excitement when Shane just gags and stares back at him with wet, eager eyes.

But then it occurs to him that Shane is groveling right now, possibly because of the way Ilya was talking to him—like he’d done something wrong by not being as responsive the last two days. And Ilya had been upset at the time, but he isn’t anymore. Not when Shane is looking at him like all he wants is for Ilya to hold him close and tell him that everything’s going to be okay. It is, so Ilya does.

“C’mere, cuteness,” Ilya smiles, pulling his fingers from between Shane’s lips before gesturing him closer.

Shane doesn’t hesitate before scrambling to fall into Ilya’s waiting arms, his body relaxing all at once as Ilya wraps him up tightly and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Just because I was upset when you got home does not mean I am upset now. You did everything I asked of you. You’re still my best boy always, okay?”

Ilya wants to suggest that maybe tonight would be a good time to pause their dynamic, like they discussed around Halloween, but he knows Shane isn’t in a good headspace to hear it right now. Right now, he needs his Dom to take care of everything for him. He needs aftercare, and he needs reassurance so he can come back up after being the absolute perfect sub.

So, Ilya holds him a little longer. He whispers raspy Russian love declarations into Shane’s ear until his voice starts to feel sore. He doesn’t stop touching him, doesn’t try to pull away for even a second. Ilya just breathes him in and tries to memorize the cadence of Shane’s beating heart against his very, very well-defined chest. He presses kisses into soft, supple skin until his eyelids slip shut, his body curling closer to his source of light on autopilot, craving safety in the form of a person who has inadvertently become more like a home.

Later that evening, when Shane is more amenable to it, Ilya tries to carefully broach the topic of pausing their dynamic.

“Baby,” Ilya says to him when they’re both on their last couple of bites of dinner.

Shane just smiles and tips his head forward for a kiss, which Ilya easily grants him.

“How would you feel about watching a movie tonight?” Ilya suggests, which seems easy enough, but almost immediately, it’s like Shane can sense there’s something more behind it.

“Okay…” Shane trails, his eyebrows pinching together like he’s clued in that Ilya is acting oddly.

“I was thinking…” Ilya starts, taking a deep breath. “Maybe we could pause our dynamic while we watch. Just for a few hours. Like how we talked about on Halloween.” Ilya can practically see the way Shane’s heartbeat picks up rapidly in his chest. “I’m not upset with you,” he clarifies quickly. “I just want to spend some time with you as…us. When I’m not your Dom, and you’re not my sub. I don’t want you to worry about rules or getting in trouble or thinking I am mad at you in any way for what happened this weekend.”

“Are you?” Shane challenges, and he looks like he’s genuinely expecting Ilya to let him have it.

“No,” Ilya says, reaching for Shane’s hand to squeeze it firmly. “I wish you hadn’t ignored me, but I know exactly how your mind works, and I also know that you didn’t mean it. You were just overwhelmed, and sometimes you have trouble with communicating when you get like this. But I’m still going to marry you. I’m still going to love you to pieces forever and always. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

Shane swallows, his gaze drifting down to where Ilya’s got a hold on him. “I…I don’t even know how to be around you without thinking of you as my Dom,” he admits. “It’s been like this from the moment we got together.”

Ilya stands from his barstool and steps closer to wrap his arms fully around Shane this time. “I’m still your Dom, sweetheart. It’s just a few hours where I want to spend time together with no attachments, okay? No rules, no hierarchy, no strings from this week or any other. I just want to watch a movie with my fiancé. With my Shane instead of my kitten.”

Ilya feels himself start to relax as Shane sinks further into his grip. In all honesty, Ilya wasn’t sure he entirely knew how to exist around Shane without Domming either, but it seemed important that they try.  The last thing Ilya wanted was for him and Shane to inadvertently develop their relationship into something that was unhealthy.

So, for the next two hours, Shane and Ilya pause their dynamic. And Ilya is incredibly glad that they do, because about twenty minutes in, Shane starts bringing up concerns that Ilya hadn’t realized he’d been having.

“Well, I was just thinking about Christmas, you know?” He broaches lightly. “I really want to buy you something. Like something nice. And I think, like, it should probably come from my money. Otherwise, it’s not really a Christmas gift.”

Ilya smiles and cards his fingers through Shane’s hair. “You’re already thinking about a Christmas present for me?”

“I mean, yeah,” Shane responds like it’s obvious. “I did some research, and I know you might have celebrated differently in Russia, so it’s okay if you had something else in mind—”

Ilya shakes his head. “I do not have anything in mind. I’m perfectly happy to do whatever you usually do for Christmas.”

“Really?” Shane asks before breaking into a grin. “Cool, well. I usually celebrate with my parents at their house. We do all the cliché stuff. Watch Christmas movies, make gingerbread houses, exchange presents.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun,” Ilya expresses honestly because he’s been dreaming of a Hollander Christmas all week now. “And you’re completely right about presents. If you’re comfortable, I think it is a good idea to pause the financial aspect of our dynamic when it comes to holidays and special occasions, like birthdays.”

Shane lets out a soft breath, like he’s relieved that Ilya has accepted his very simple request.

“You know we can always shift things around with our total power exchange, right?” He reminds Shane, pulling the other closer under his arm. “If there’s something that isn’t working for you, especially the financial aspect, you can tell me. I’m not going to be upset if you think it’s too much.”

“No,” Shane replies instantly, gripping onto Ilya’s thigh. “I really, really like when you pay for stuff. I mean, mostly I think it’s hot how turned on you get by me spending your money,” he laughs, and Ilya melts at the sound. “But I think it’s really hot, too. I just…maybe we can set aside some more time for open conversations, you know? It doesn’t make sense to me, but for some reason, whenever you pause the dynamic, it does make me feel like I can speak my mind a bit more. Like, I know there wouldn’t be consequences or whatever, but…”

“I know what you mean,” Ilya nods, dipping to press his lips against Shane’s. “I think that is a good idea, too. I know it scared you when I brought it up, but I agree it’s important to have low-pressure moments where we can talk about stuff like this. And I think that verbally announcing a pause tends to take some of that weight off your shoulders, yes? And mine, too.”

Shane cups his hand around Ilya’s neck and tugs him in for another kiss, which eventually just turns into Shane crawling on top of him and them making out for the remainder of the movie. It’s slow. It’s languid. It’s exactly what Ilya needs after their strenuous week away from each other—a reminder that Shane is still his boy in more ways than one, and Ilya doesn’t ever have to worry about anything coming between them.

-

“Okay, so Ilya is paying for today,” Shane reminds Troy as they step into the nail salon.

“Yes,” Troy agrees without hesitation. “You have his credit card, right?”

Shane holds it up because that had been his first and only priority before leaving the house today. It’s Friday. They’re just coming off a win at home against Minnesota last night, and they have a short away trip to Nashville before they get a couple of days off to rest from all the back and forth to America.

“So, did Ilya give you a special design?” Troy asks conversationally while they wait to be seated.

“Yeah.” Shane rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

“Can I see it?” Troy requests, so Shane leans in close to show him the picture on his phone.

The nails aren’t as extravagant this time, which Shane appreciates, but they’re still obviously kitten-themed—a clear, glassy ocean blue with little water droplets and a tiny fish accent on his left ring finger.

“Dude,” Troy pouts at him, jutting out his lower lip. “That’s so fucking cute. I’m so excited for you.”

Shane laughs and wrinkles his eyebrows. “Excited for me for what?”

“Oh.” Troy’s face falls suddenly, like he’s said something he shouldn’t have. “No, nothing. Just for the nails!” He corrects quickly. “I mean, they’re probably going to look awesome, right? Paw-some, if you will.” He winks, and then laughs nervously, scratching at the back of his neck. “Look, our stations are ready. Let’s go!”

And then, Shane is being tugged over to his manicurist before he can spend any further thought on the matter.

By the time their game on Sunday comes around, Shane can tell something is up. All of the boys are acting weird towards him, giving him little nudges or winks like they’re in on something he isn’t. It makes him feel like he’s the butt of the joke, but when he tries to bring it up to Ilya, the other just brushes him off.

“Don’t worry about the boys. They are being stupid. Just focus on winning the game,” Ilya tells him with a kiss that has Shane so dazed he forgets what he was even coming to Ilya for in the first place.

So, Shane focuses, and win the game he does.

“Six in a row, let’s go!” Wyatt howls when they get back into the locker room, causing Shane to grin breathlessly over at Ilya.

Ilya doesn’t hesitate to pull him into another kiss, and Shane swoons as the Centaurs start chanting around them, his brain short-circuiting when the kiss just goes on, and on, and on.

It’s so nice having Ilya back in his hotel room for this away stint. Even though they’re only here for one more night, Shane is never going to take being able to share a bed with him for granted ever again, so he savors every moment when Ilya fucks him slow, and nice, and deep, like time could go on forever.

In the morning, they pack up their things like usual, but when Shane goes to meet the team for breakfast, Ilya stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“What?” Shane frowns in confusion.

Ilya breaks into a slow smile. “Nothing, just. We should probably hit the road. We can grab something to eat on the way.”

Shane stares back at him, glancing down at his Rolex. “The bus doesn’t leave for another forty-five minutes,” he says slowly, like Ilya has lost it.

“Mm, we are not going on the bus,” Ilya tells him, reaching for Shane’s hand to press his lips to the back of it. “We have somewhere else to be. And we need to get a move on if we want to be there on time.”

Shane raises his eyebrows as he lets the information settle over him. “Is this…is this the surprise?” He voices curiously.

But Ilya just mimes zipping his lips and gives Shane a playful little kick against his Converse. “C’mon, котёнок. Our chariot awaits.”

In reality, their chariot just seems like your average rental car, but Ilya lets Shane pick the music and where they stop for breakfast, so Shane really has nothing to complain about the entire ride over. Shane’s in the middle of yapping Ilya’s ear off about his predictions for the playoffs this year when the car finally rolls to a stop. He blinks and turns to look out the window.

He hadn’t even realized that much time had gone by, but apparently, they’re in Georgia now. The Georgia Aquarium, to be exact.

“Uh…what’s going on?” Shane laughs awkwardly because there’s no way he and Ilya are going to be able to walk into this crowded aquarium together without being spotted.

“I told you I wanted to take you on a date,” Ilya shrugs, like this is in any way normal.

“Yeah, but the aquarium is—”

“Hey,” Ilya says softly, turning to face him. “Do you trust me?”

Shane swallows, but nods without question.

Ilya smiles and leans in to kiss him. There aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot, but Shane still shies away. They’re in public, and usually Ilya was a lot more careful than this.

“Ilya—” he says hesitantly.

“Shane,” Ilya echoes, reaching out to give his knee a quick squeeze. “You trust me, right?”

Shane bites his lower lip harshly and takes another cursory glance around. He doesn’t see anyone lingering nearby. It’s almost like Ilya has parked them near a back entrance, which was probably intentional. Ilya was very thorough when it came to making plans.

Shane breathes out a small sigh. Of course he trusted Ilya. Ilya would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. He was always accounting for Shane’s very specific needs. If Ilya’s planned this as a surprise for him, all of the details have surely been well thought out in advance.

“Yes,” Shane replies firmly this time. “Yes, I trust you.” He places his hand on Ilya’s and then grants him the kiss he withheld a few moments ago.

It’s worth it for the way Ilya grins blindingly at him, shaking Shane’s knee as he swoops in for another kiss on his left cheek, and then his right, and finally, his nose.

Shane grins back at him because it feels good to kiss in the front seat of their car like a normal couple. Usually, they were hyper aware of the fact that they could be spotted, but he feels invisible now. Unstoppable. With Ilya, he feels like he can do anything.

“Good. Then, let me get our stuff and we can head inside.” Ilya gives him one last peck before he steps out of the car to grab his backpack, and then he leads Shane to a door on the side of the building.

When they get inside, Ilya pushes a pile of clothes into his arms and ushers him into the bathroom. Shane just squints at him while trying to figure out what the hell is going on because he’s being weirder than usual. Still, he dutifully takes the clothes, unable to help taking a whiff once he’s in the privacy of his own stall. Ilya’s clothes. Ilya’s cologne. Light wash jeans that are appropriately big on him, a white long-sleeve shirt, and a blue short-sleeve button-up to layer over. He’s unmistakably Ilya’s if anyone were to find him like this. It’s his favorite thought of the day so far.

Upon stepping back into the hallway, he finds Ilya has changed, too. He’s in a washed blue-gray long-sleeve Diesel shirt with a little circle cut-out around a metal D right in the middle of his chest. He’s wearing gray jeans, one of his hands tucked into the right front pocket, and his backpack has magically disappeared. Shane hardly notices, however, because he’s still staring at Ilya’s handsome face.

He reaches out for Shane, wiggling his fingers to get him to come closer, and Shane doesn’t hesitate before grabbing onto his hand. He has no idea what to expect, but already, his heart is hammering in anticipation. The fact that Ilya’s clearly gone through the trouble to set something up for them, and at the aquarium, no less, has Shane more excited than he would ever admit.

“Ready, котёнок?” Ilya double-checks, and Shane nods emphatically.

He looks around as Ilya leads him down a hallway, and then before he knows it, they’re standing in the middle of a large open space. Shane sees a restaurant, signs directing to different exhibits, lots of fish imagery, but no people. The entire aquarium is empty; there isn’t a single employee or customer in the building as far as Shane can tell.

“I— did you rent this whole place out?” Shane asks, his eyes bright as he turns to face the other.

Ilya is wearing a proud smile when he takes Shane’s hands, squeezing them in his own. “I did,” he confirms, blue eyes searching brown. “Are you happy?”

Shane can’t find the words to answer him right now, so instead, he surges forward to kiss him deeply, arms wound tight around his neck. He sighs as Ilya easily falls into it, big hands gliding across his hips, and Shane falls prey to his hypnotizing grasp, the sweet glide of his tongue, the sparks that are lighting up all around them.

“I wanted to do something special for you,” Ilya murmurs against his lips when they pull away.

Shane leans closer until their noses nudge together, his eyelashes brushing across the freckles on Ilya’s cheeks. “When are you not doing something special for me?” He practically whispers, bridging the gap between them to kiss him again.

Ilya laughs into the kiss and pulls Shane flush to him until almost no space exists between them. “Are you ready to look at some fish, baby?”

Shane nods against his forehead, clutching onto Ilya’s curls. “There’s really no one here?”

“No one who will bother us,” Ilya assures, looking him in the eye from where they’re pressed up against each other. “We have total privacy. I have even asked them to disable the security cameras—”

-

Shane cuts him off with yet another kiss. Ilya finds him so, so, so endearing.

Truthfully, his heart is pounding out of his chest right now. This was his big moment—the moment he’s been fantasizing about for close to a decade. He was finally, finally going to get to propose to his Shane. It wouldn’t be in the traditional sense, but in some ways, it was almost even more important than asking for Shane’s hand in marriage. Today, Ilya was asking to be Shane’s Dominant, Shane’s owner, Shane’s Alpha, for life. If Shane accepted—which Ilya hoped to god that he would—they would eventually have an official collaring ceremony at the club, where Shane would no doubt be dressed in his finest kitten attire. It was a way to celebrate their dynamic in an equally official capacity to their wedding, and this gesture would be all Ilya’s. Ilya wanted to devote the rest of his life to taking care of Shane in the best way he knew how.

“Wanna go see the pretty fish now, моя любовь?” Ilya asks, rubbing his hands over the expanse of Shane’s lower back.

“I might go down,” Shane whispers as a warning, but Ilya just shakes his head fondly.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m right here,” Ilya replies in an attempt to soothe him. “You are completely free to be yourself.”

Shane, to his part, already looks a little hazy, like the gesture itself is making him feel overwhelmed. It is their first official date, after all—their first time going somewhere together in public that wasn’t the club or being out with the rest of their team. Ilya is feeling pretty emotional himself because it feels like one step closer to having a real future with him, to seeing many more places with Shane as his partner by his side.

He offers Shane his hand, and then he tries not to let his heart beat out of his chest when Shane wraps his other hand around Ilya’s forearm, leaning close to him as they walk. Ilya doesn’t think he’s ever felt more free in his life.

When they get to the first exhibit, Shane pulls him to a stop in front of the tank, his brown eyes scuttering across the glass as a school of fish swim by. Ilya can tell he wasn’t kidding about going down; he’s entering cat mode already. The club had fish tanks too, but nothing like these—ones that span entire 25-foot walls from floor to ceiling, ones that wrap around the building for ages, with fish of all colors, shapes, and sizes. There are sharks too, and Shane jumps when the first one comes thrashing by him. Ilya feels warmth pool in the pit of his tummy; he’s having a hard time looking at the fish at all with the way Shane’s reacting right beside him.

“Have you ever seen a shark before?” Ilya asks, gliding his thumb over the back of Shane’s hand.

Shane doesn’t look away from the tank, his brown eyes blinking up hugely as another shark swims by, this one shaped differently than the last. “Maybe,” he answers delayed. “But if I have, I don’t remember. And definitely not like this.”

His focus is pulled by a bright yellow fish next, and Ilya watches as Shane’s cat eyes make an appearance, narrowing in focus like he’s tracking his next prey. He tugs Ilya further along the glass, stopping occasionally to squint at the little info signs because he doesn’t have his glasses. Ilya’s just content to let him lead, taking solace in the comfortable silence between them. He and Shane could be doing anything in the world, and he’d still find it fun, but right now, he’s so glad it’s this.

It’s reminding him of that night in the club when he presented Shane with his first collar. Ilya hadn’t known what it meant at the time, hadn’t known that Shane would continue to wear that collar every day as a symbol of their love, that he’d end up being Ilya’s котёнок for life. So now, five months later, Ilya wanted to offer him a collar that was more intentional—one that wasn’t given to him on a whim with no real understanding of what it stood for. This collar was created custom, just for Shane, as a promise of forever.

To get to the next section, they have to go through a fish tank tunnel, and Ilya loves the way it makes Shane shrink and cuddle up against him. He isn’t sure if it’s because Shane’s feeling trapped and claustrophobic, or if he’s just a little stunned by what he’s seeing, but Ilya holds him close either way, both arms wrapped around Shane’s waist as he hooks his chin over the other’s shoulder and leads them forward.

“Do you think the fish like to watch us, too?” Ilya mutters in Shane’s ear, grinning when he gets a giggle out of him. Shane turns to rub his head lovingly against Ilya’s cheek, so Ilya kisses him all over his face.

After they get through the tunnel, they wind up in a much more open space, the tank in this room even bigger and wider than the last. Shane’s awash in a sea of blue, different colors flickering across his face as bright, beautiful fish swim by. He looks taken with them, and Ilya can relate. He’s on his first date with the man he’s going to marry. He wants to do it more than once, and he wants to ask before Shane can go down much further.

Ilya presses a sweet kiss to his neck and then rises to his full height, spinning Shane in his arms and pulling him closer by the waist. He waits for Shane to zero in on him before cupping his jaw in one hand, grazing his thumb over Shane’s freckles.

“When we first got together, I never in a million years could have anticipated what we’d become to each other,” Ilya says softly, his eyes tracking Shane’s. “I have wanted you for as long as I can remember. I have dreamt of what your lips might taste like before I knew for sure. I have fantasized about how I might touch you, how I might worship you, how I might treat you with all the love and care that you absolutely deserve. I have too often taken on the role of the provider in situations where I did not always wish to be, but with you—” Ilya pauses, shaking his head wistfully. “There is nothing I find more empowering. It thrills me to take care of you. It is all I want to do when I wake up in the morning, and it is all I think about when I go to sleep at night.”

Shane’s face is still blue from the reflection of the water, but underneath, Ilya can see that his cheeks are turning pink. Ilya kisses the left one, then the right. He pulls back just in time to see Shane’s closed eyes as he lets out a purr.

“You are the best котёнок in the entire world,” Ilya smiles fondly while trying to commit every detail of his face to memory. “You have no idea how happy you make me, how much purpose you give me. I am so proud to be your Dom, but even more, I am so honored that you allow me to be. Your submission is the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced, and it has completely reshaped my idea of what it means to be a Dom. Because I am not just a Dom anymore, I’m your Dom…forever if you’ll have me.”

Ilya takes a deep breath and reaches for one of Shane’s pretty kitty paw, his lips curling when he sees the sparkling blue nail design with the fish accent right on his wedding finger—a hint that he might not pick up on for another day or so, but one that had been left to serve as a reminder of Ilya’s intention to marry him. This was technically a collaring proposal, yes, but it was also Ilya’s real proposal. Ilya’s way of asking Shane to be his lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold. In dynamic and in kink. Till death do they part.

Ilya feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room as he sinks down to one knee. Shane, to his part, looks shocked, like he has no idea what’s going on, especially since he was probably somewhere in between kitty and human in his head. That was okay, though. It was Shane’s kitten mind that he was trying to appeal to right now, anyway.

“When I first put my collar on you, it was a spur-of-the-moment choice. I was desperate to please you and win your affections, but I never got the chance to officially ask you to be mine. There is a lot of misunderstanding around kink—of what it means to be a Dominant or a submissive in a dynamic. For me, it means trust, and communication, and devotion between two people who need each other on a visceral level.”

“Ilya—” Shane stutters, and his eyes are wet, his lower lip already jutting out a bit as it wobbles.

Ilya laughs emotionally and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans to produce the diamond collar he’s had custom-designed just for Shane. He’d emailed back and forth with the jewelers at Bvlgari for over a month to make sure the cuts of the diamonds and the fit were perfect, to make sure it would be comfortable and sturdy and shiny enough for any occasion. He wanted the collar to be wearable and breathable, not too heavy on his precious kitten’s neck, but still extravagant and grand enough to go up against a wedding ring; Ilya would get him one of those eventually, too, but for now, this needed to represent Ilya’s undying love for him. Ilya’s котёнок deserved the very best.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what I wanted to do for my proposal, and I decided I don’t need to be the one to ask you to marry me. I want to be your husband, and at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter who asked who,” he declares, squeezing Shane’s hand tightly from where he’s still on one knee. “But I do want to ask you something that’s equally as important to me.” He raises his other hand to present the diamond collar to Shane, watching in pure awe as his kitten’s face crumples before him. “I would like to propose taking care of you for the rest of my life as your Dominant, and if you accept, we will have an official collaring ceremony to represent our commitment within our dynamic and to each other.”

Shane falls into his arms before Ilya’s even finished giving his big speech, but Ilya doesn’t hesitate to catch him, wrapping him up tightly with the collar still clutched in his hand against Shane’s back. He feels tear tracks on his neck before he hears the sob that wracks through Shane and makes him shake.

“My sweet, sweet angel,” Ilya coos softly. “Do you want to officially be my котёнок? Forever and ever?”

He isn’t listening for an answer because he knows Shane isn’t in the best state to give him one right now, but he still feels Shane’s hair tickle across his neck as he nods his head in what Ilya assumes to be a very definite yes. He smiles and holds Shane that much tighter.

“I was thinking you could wear this for me on our wedding day so everyone knows you are mine in more ways than one.”

-

Shane is beside himself as he falls apart in his lover’s arms, clinging to him like he thinks Ilya might slip through the cracks of his fingers and disappear into the wind. A collaring ceremony. A wedding for their fucking dynamic. Because Ilya knows how important this piece of their relationship is to them. Because he knows they won’t be able to truly be themselves at their real wedding, not in front of all of their family and friends, at least. But this…this meant Shane could devote himself to Ilya, not just as his husband, but as his owner. His Dominant. Shane could openly kneel at his feet and worship the ground he walked upon because it felt so, so fucking good to do so.

“You’re alright, baby,” he hears Ilya say, but Shane just clambers forward until the other is forced into sitting flat on the floor with a lapful of kitten.

“Alpha—” Shane gets out through a mix of snot and tears. He rubs at his face with the sleeve of his shirt while trying to meet Ilya’s gaze.

“Is that a yes, sweetheart?” He questions, but his eyes are warm as his hands graze over Shane’s hip bones.

“Yes,” Shane hiccups around a tearful smile, collapsing into Ilya’s grasp once again while he buries his fingers in Ilya’s curls. “Wanna be your котёнок forever and ever,” he echoes, the words quiet and uttered from the depths of his throat because he still can’t believe they’re in public instead of the privacy of their own home. They’ve never had the opportunity to act this way around each other in a shared space, and even though there’s no one around to witness it, it still feels monumental. It still feels like one step closer to getting to express their love in ways that, up until now, have felt forbidden. They’re luckier than most; he knows that, but he still wants more. With Ilya, he wants everything. “Ask me in Russian,” he demands next, and Ilya laughs at the request.

Then, Ilya leans in real close, until their noses are pressed together, until their lips are sharing the same breath, and Shane cups Ilya’s cheeks in his hands to keep them from separating even an inch.

“Ты выйдешь за меня, котёнок?” He utters, and Shane kisses him so hard that he isn’t sure where one of them begins and the other ends. Ilya sucks on his tongue while Shane melts into a puddle in his arms, until his limbs feel like jelly and his mind is a blur.

When Ilya eventually goes to catch his breath, Shane whines softly to let him know he’s on his way down. He doesn’t think he could stop it if he tried, the thought of a collaring ceremony running rampant through his head. What would a ceremony en-tail? Would it be private, just between them? Or would it be at the club? Would they be surrounded by all of their specifically kink-friendly friends? Would Shane be a kitten or a human for it? Was there a collaring honeymoon? Holy shit.

“Okay, baby, calm.” Ilya encourages him to slow his breathing by moving his hand in grounding circles over Shane’s back, but he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to bring him back up. He just seems like he’s trying to make sure Shane doesn’t pass out. Cause, right. That was possible. And had happened before.

But Shane is losing access to any English word that exists in his head fast. He hopes Ilya is prepared with his mind-reading abilities to keep both of them afloat.

“Do you think it would be alright if we tried it on? Just so I can see if it fits right. If you are uncomfortable in any way, I will have it adjusted before the ceremony,” Ilya tells him, and Shane sniffles, dragging his nose across Ilya’s jawline. He loves him so fucking much.

“God, you are so sweet for me,” Ilya sighs, and he seems like he’s breathing him in as well. “Here. Tip your head forward so I can fasten it around your neck. Let me see how beautiful you are.”

Shane does as he’s told, pressing his forehead against Ilya’s shoulder while he buries himself in Ilya’s neck, wishing he could remove the remainder of space between them and physically embed himself inside of Ilya’s skin.

“Good boy,” Ilya murmurs into his ear. Shane lets out a smiley, rumbly purr in response. Then, suddenly, there’s extra weight on his neck—something other than the thin gold pendant chain he’s grown accustomed to—and when Ilya adjusts it, it cools like ice against his skin. Shane shivers at the feeling.

Ilya slips a hand through his hair and tugs, causing Shane to moan inadvertently, his eyes glazing over by the time Ilya gets a proper look at him.

“My gorgeous, gorgeous котёнок. Look at you,” Ilya whispers in awe, his fingers gliding across the diamonds now adorning Shane’s neck. “How does that feel for you, angel? Is it comfortable?” He asks, checking to see how much room Shane has, like the collar might be at risk of choking him if it’s on too tight.

It isn’t on too tight, though. It feels good, natural, easy. It feels like a second skin. When Shane looks down at himself, however, he’s suddenly hit with a myriad of emotions, the sentimental storm coming down on him with heavy clouds and an outpour of rain. He can’t talk, but he can mewl. He can lick. He can bite. Anything to let Ilya know that this is everything to him.

“Oh, I know, angel. I know,” Ilya acknowledges his gesture, accepting all of Shane’s licks and nuzzles like they’re a badge of honor. “I could sit here all day waxing poetic about you, but we probably should get going if we want to make the dolphin show in time.”

Shane practically shoots up in high alert. Dolphin show? There was going to be a dolphin show?

“Yes, it is very exciting,” Ilya laughs in agreement, hugging Shane close to him again. “I wanted to give you the best day possible, and I figured it is not a proper trip to the aquarium without a dolphin show.”

Shane agrees wholeheartedly. Well, he had no idea there even was a dolphin show, but now that he knows, he’s pawsitive that no aquarium trip would be complete without it.

“I stashed my bag in the main area. Let’s go put your collar away so we can keep it safe, and then we will head over, hm?”

Shane whines at the idea of having to give up his collar, but Ilya just shushes him.

“None of that, маленький монстр,” Ilya chastises. “We are just trying it on for now to make sure it fits nice and comfortable. You will get it back once we have our official ceremony, but I need you to be good for me in the meantime. If you are on your best behavior for me, I will give you something else to tide you over.”

Shane relaxes with the promise that he’ll still be receiving something else today because how cruel for Ilya to offer this to him and then immediately take it away. Didn’t he know Shane was easily attached and overwhelmed? Apparently, yes, which is why he’s thought of every single thing. So, Shane doesn’t argue when Ilya eventually unclasps his diamond collar and places it back in its fancy jewelry case. He only pouts his kitten lips and waits to be addressed, watching Ilya with sad, pleading eyes.

“You are ridiculous,” Ilya shakes his head affectionately.

Shane barely has time to react before a black beanie is being placed on his head, two sharp cat ears sticking up on either end.

“We have privacy here, but in order to see the dolphin show, there are going to be some trainers and staff present. I figure this will not be as flashy as your regular kitten ears. They have all signed NDAs, of course, but…” Ilya trails off.

Shane’s kitten mind can’t follow that thought process right now. All he knows is he’s a kitten on a mission to see some more fish and sea creatures. He bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, feeling like a mermaid kitty and a secret spy all at once. He and Ilya were on a covert mission to catch and pounce on as many colorful species as possible. He tugs on Ilya’s hand to get the message across.

“Okay, okay, we are going,” Ilya agrees, squeezing Shane’s paw. “I still want to show you something on our way to the dolphins. Come on.”

Shane grins when Ilya ducks down and offers his back for a piggyback ride. He latches onto his neck and wraps his legs tightly around Ilya’s waist as the other takes off in a jog towards the next exhibit.

“We have to be fast, kitty,” he tells him, his heart pumping loudly from where Shane’s arms are pressed against his chest.

Shane kitten-licks the back of his neck, nibbling his fangs all along Ilya’s jawline. He feels like a spoiled and fancy kitty today. His owner is always buying him lots of nice things, but diamonds? That’s new.

Shane meows softly into his ear, smiling and tucking his face against Ilya’s neck when the other shudders under him. He must like that, so Shane does it again while licking behind Ilya’s ear. He gets a whiff of Ilya’s shampoo, moaning softly, and that’s when Ilya comes to a stop, and Shane realizes they’re in a room with open tanks.

His kitten nose wrinkles in confusion as he sits up a little taller to try and see what’s inside.

“Stingrays, baby,” Ilya says in excitement. “And some sharks. We are going to pet them.”

Shane ducks, burrowing into Ilya’s neck immediately like he’s under threat of a kitten shark attack.

“Hey,” Ilya laughs, turning over his shoulder to try and catch Shane’s eye. “It’s totally safe. They would not let us pet them if it wasn’t.”

Shane thinks the aquarium probably has good reason to let him and Ilya pet them if they’re secretly trying to lure kittens in for shark food. He stays ducked low, hidden in Ilya’s neck, until the other starts to lower him to the floor.

No, Shane thinks to himself, his kitten eyes pleading up at Ilya as his owner just watches him in adoration.

“You should know I will never let anything bad happen to you, котёнок. I will do anything and everything to protect you always.”

Shane slow blinks at him, taking his words into consideration, but his mind is screaming at him, shark, shark, shark, shark.

“You are so cute,” Ilya smiles, tipping his head as he cups Shane’s jaw. “There is nothing to be afraid of. Do you want to watch me? At least come look at them,” he begs, slowly walking Shane in the direction of the tank.

And, well, Shane is curious. He’s never exactly seen a shark up close, but Ilya did have a point. If the aquarium felt comfortable leaving the tanks open, it must not be that dangerous. He tries to stick with that line of reasoning as Ilya steps them up to the exhibit.

“Look, this one’s a stingray. It’s not dangerous, see?” Ilya prompts, lowering his hand in the water and gliding his fingers across the animal as one swims past.

Shane’s eyes go wide in anticipation, waiting for something to happen, but Ilya is completely fine. He’s still standing there smiling at him like Shane is being silly. Shane huffs and puts on his best grumpy kitty face.

“Uh oh. I think I see a shark coming,” Ilya warns, raising his eyebrows at Shane in challenge as he puts his hand in once more.

Shane whines and latches onto Ilya’s free arm, trying to pull him away, but it’s no use. It’s too late. He grabs onto Ilya’s bicep and shuts his eyes tightly, waiting for his owner to be eaten alive. Why would he do this? Why would he risk his life, risk leaving Shane by himself forever and ever? Didn’t Ilya love him enough to not do stupid things like sacrifice his arm to a shark that would undoubtedly eat him alive?

Shane feels the tears coming before he even realizes what’s going on, but before the first sob can escape him, he’s back in strong arms again, surrounded by that intoxicating scent.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise.”

Ilya’s hands are carding all over him as Shane shakes in his grip.

“I am sorry for scaring you, baby. Oh goodness. It’s okay. Sh,” he coos, pressing a firm kiss to the side of Shane’s neck. “We don’t have to stay here any longer. We can go see the dolphins now, yes? Would that be better?”

Shane clings to him and nods profusely into his chest, sniffling to try and get himself together. He digs his claw into Ilya’s shirt on instinct, trying to protect him by keeping him close. He would not let the sharks take his Alpha.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty, little head about it, okay?” Ilya continues to calm him down, wrapping an arm around him as he pulls Shane close to his side. “We are going to go watch the dolphins, and we can forget all about the sharks.”

-

Ilya sighs contentedly to himself while he rubs over Shane’s shoulder and arm. He would never, ever get sick of seeing Shane like this. It was the best thing in the world to him. Having a sub was one thing, but having a kitten was everything and more. And now, here his kitten was, crying because he was terrified that his owner had been eaten by a shark in the aquarium petting tanks. Ilya literally could not love him more.

“Good boy. Doing such a good job for me. You are such a protective kitty,” he comments in admiration. “Always taking such good care of your owner. Just like you made sure I was taken care of when I was sick.”

Shane mewls woundedly again, like he can’t stand the idea of anything bothering Ilya—shark, sickness, or otherwise—and Ilya fights very hard to keep from swallowing him whole.

“Aw, c’mon, мой драгоценный цветок. Where’s my happy smiley boy? I thought you wanted to see the dolphins, моя любовь.”

Shane clearly does want to see the dolphins because he lets out another pained mrowl, so Ilya scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder, giving Shane’s ass a little squeeze before he starts them in the direction of the presentation amphitheater.

Shane grumbles a little and tries to worm out of Ilya’s grip, but his kitten musings are no match for Ilya’s strength, meaning he eventually gives up, falling like a ragdoll against Ilya’s back.

“Good boy,” Ilya praises, his lips curling when it gets a purr out of his kitty. It isn’t long before he feels Shane pressing his paws into the back of his shirt. Ilya kisses his hip from where it rests on his shoulder.

The dolphin show would not be completely private, of course, considering the trainers involved in the presentation, but Ilya knew that it would be hard for them to see anything if he and Shane sat towards the back. As long as he could keep Shane from flat-out chasing his tail in circles, they could probably skate by without anyone seeing any alarming behavior. If they happened to, Ilya had NDAs that would bankrupt them into non-existence should they dare to tell anyone about it, but still…it was better to be safe than to trust random strangers to keep their most incriminating secret. The general public finding out they were together would be one thing, but finding out Shane was a cat…

Ilya swallows and holds him tighter. He wouldn’t let that happen. He was a good owner who took very good care of his kitten.

When they get inside the theater, Ilya puts Shane down so he can reorient himself before they climb the stairs. He’s a little teary, but he’s curious, sniffling and looking around to try and get a sense of what they’re walking into. There’s a massive, massive pool of saltwater, and Shane is sizing it up as Ilya guides him up the stairs.

“The dolphins are going to come show us lots of tricks. They’re super, super playful, just like you,” he teases, poking Shane’s side, but it pulls a smile out of him. “I think there will be a couple different ones because dolphins like to hang with their friends a lot. Other animal friends. Kind of like Troy, right, baby?” He hums because it seems to be lifting Shane’s mood.

Shane blinks up at him hopefully, and Ilya realizes his mistake. Maybe Troy wasn’t officially a puppy friend yet, but Ilya felt pretty confident that he and Harris were heading in that direction. They were certainly invited to the upcoming event at the club—Fire and Ice, since Shane hadn’t been able to enjoy it properly the last time Ilya hosted it at Hush. He was aiming to correct that experience with something magical this time, and having Troy and Harris—along with their potential new friends, Brooks and Grey—was sure to make the night memorable. Secretly, Ilya was hoping he’d have the opportunity to ask Grey some questions as well, considering he hadn’t run into a lot of dedicated pet owners before.

“He may not be a puppy yet, but he loves that you’re a kitty,” Ilya tells him honestly, pressing his lips to the back of Shane’s hand/paw. “Plus, Ivan and maybe your new fox friend Brooks, hm?”

Shane brightens minutely at the mention of all his pet friends, and Ilya imagines he must be thinking about the upcoming event as well. He wasn’t aware that it would be Fire and Ice, cause his Shane liked to be surprised, but Ilya couldn’t wait until all was revealed.

They take their seats in the last couple of rows, and Ilya reaches over to adjust Shane’s kitten ear beanie, which has gone a little crooked. Shane blinks at him before returning his attention to the pool, almost like he’s searching for the dolphins Ilya promised him.

“They’re rehearsing, Китти,” Ilya whispers, while wrapping an arm around Shane’s shoulders to pull him close. “They want to make sure everything is perfect for you.”

Shane purrs and nuzzles into his neck, and Ilya’s glad he feels comfortable enough to go down for this. This entire proposal was meant to celebrate their dynamic, after all, and Ilya was nothing of a Dom without his sweet, loving kitten. He knew Shane’s kitten mind would appreciate this gesture so, so much more. He knows it’s true when Shane grants his neck with soft kitty licks from his scratchy little tongue.

“I love you so much,” Ilya sighs, cupping Shane’s chin to bump their noses together. “I’m so honored to be here with you. That, out of everyone, you chose me, and you keep choosing me every single day. I feel your love so, so strongly, whether you say it with words or not,” Ilya murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before pulling him close for a real one.

His stomach flutters at the way Shane falls forward against him, clutching onto him with his claws, kneading his shirt and letting his tongue flop into Ilya’s mouth. He’s turned on by every single thing Shane does, but it’s more than that; he’s in love with it, too. Shane was so perfect, so unique, and so strange sometimes, but in ways that were downright thrilling to Ilya. He loved the way his boy’s beautiful mind worked, how he had preferences that could often contradict each other, and no one day was ever the same. He was in love with someone who could get mad at him for doing the laundry wrong, or for not knowing some ridiculous rule about which seasonings were allowed on which types of rice. Ilya hums as he sucks on his tongue, praying that they’ll have those fights for the rest of forever.

They’re in the middle of slobbering all over each other—in a way that is most definitely not appropriate for being in a semi-public venue—when the lights go down, and the screen comes to life in front of them. Ilya can’t resist licking inside of Shane’s mouth once more with a little growl before he pulls back and wipes both of their faces with the sleeve of his shirt. Shane grumbles like he’s offended at Ilya for not wanting Shane’s spit all over his face, but Ilya appeases him with a flurry of kisses while pulling the other close until Shane’s legs hang over his lap. He turns his head, offering his cheek for Shane to lick once more, and he does so sweetly before burrowing close.

“The dolphins, моя любовь,” Ilya reminds him, pointing up to the big screen, and Shane blinks slowly, following his line of sight.

His big cat eyes dart in surprise when he finally zeroes in on the visuals above them. There’s a brief intro video explaining the show as well as some facts about dolphins, and then, before they know it, one of the trainers appears on stage.

Shane jerks excitedly when the first dolphin comes into view, his claws catching on Ilya’s shirt while he sits up to try to see better. Ilya smiles and hoists Shane onto his lap to give him a better view, wrapping his arms securely around the other’s waist as Shane sits sideways on top of him. He kisses Shane’s shoulder and then perches his chin against him, eyes trained on the tank.

The dolphins each do a trick to introduce themselves, and right away, Shane’s attention is captured. He jolts in Ilya’s arms every time one of them jumps in the air or makes a dolphin noise, and when the dolphins rise up to wave their fins, Shane is waving his paw right back. He’s completely locked in for the entire show, but it doesn’t stop him from looking back at Ilya every once in a while to make sure he’s seeing this, too.

Shane giggles when the dolphins start trying to splash them. Even though they’re too far back to get wet, Ilya still holds him close when Shane hides in his neck to avoid getting soaked, and Ilya just pretends his shielding arms are the reason Shane doesn’t.

When it comes time for the finale, the dolphins perform a series of flips that have Shane in complete and utter awe. His mouth is open, and he keeps letting out these little half-meows that are giving Ilya such bad cuteness aggression, he has to bite Shane’s shoulder to keep from attacking him with kisses.

By the end of the show, the dolphins swim up to the edge of the tank to take their bows, and Ilya goes to clap his hands loudly in applause, but Shane tackles him in a hug before he can, nuzzling and licking all over his neck. Ilya grips him tightly and tries to keep his emotions under control; it shouldn’t be affecting him as much as it is, but he’s engaged to the love of his life. He has a family he never thought he’d have. He has everything he’s ever wanted.

They stop by the photobooth on the way out for some commemorative photos, in which Ilya pulls Shane into his lap once more and then proceeds to chomp on his cheek. Shane laughs wildly and turns to lick him for the next one, and by the last, they’re kissing each other like the lovebirds they are. Ilya plans on keeping this one in his office at the club, just in case he ever needs some inspiration from his favorite mermaid kitty.

He buys Shane a shark from the gift shop on the way out, just in case they ever get a chance to visit other sharks in the future. Exposure therapy, and all. Shane hugs it close to his chest and pouts like Ilya’s just handed him buried treasure. Ilya piggybacks him all the way back to the car.

Ilya holds Shane’s hand the entire drive over to the hotel. They have to sneak in separately to avoid being seen together, which Shane whines like a baby about, but it’s worth it for the way Ilya gets to tackle him onto the bed and attack him with kisses.

They take a long bath and then spend an intimate evening together, complete with—you guessed it—candles and rose petals. So, yeah. Maybe Ilya’s taken a page out of Shane’s book of romance, after all. His dashing kitten had the best ideas.

A/N: The following sex scene has been deemed too intimate for public consumption, and therefore, has been redacted by the author in an effort to preserve Shane and Ilya’s well-deserved privacy. Thank you for your understanding.

-

“Are you going to tell me what the event is or not?” Shane sighs, standing shirtless in their bathroom while Ilya sifts through their closet to pick out his outfit.

“Why is it so important that you know?” Ilya raises an eyebrow at him over his shoulder. “You have liked all the previous events, yes?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, but that was different.”

“I thought you liked to be surprised—”

“I do like to be surprised,” Shane cuts him off, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Then, what, моя любовь? You have been restless since practice this morning,” Ilya says, stepping over to him to rub his hands over Shane’s bare arms.

Shane swallows and turns his head, pretending to be interested in something on the wall to avoid Ilya’s gaze, but Ilya catches him by the chin before he can get away with it for long.

“Hey,” Ilya expresses gently, his blue eyes cataloguing Shane’s brown. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Shane looks at him for a minute and then huffs, sinking a little in Ilya’s grasp, dropping his head onto Ilya’s shoulder. “It’s just…I haven’t been down all the way around Troy and Harris before.”

Ilya begs to differ. Shane had been down around Troy more than anyone after the plane crash save for, maybe, Ivan and Cedric. But he also understood what Shane meant. It was one thing to be in a mostly non-sexual kitten space; it was quite another to be fully in subspace kitten space while participating in an event at the club.

“I understand why you might be nervous about that,” Ilya appeases, running a hand over Shane’s side in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sure it’s nerve-wracking—the idea of one of our teammates seeing you this way—but it’s also Troy,” Ilya reminds him. “He is going to love you and accept you no matter what, and I think that being at this event will really open his and Harris’ eyes up to lots of things they can explore together. Like, potentially…” Ilya trails, leaning close to press his lips to Shane’s ear. “Being a puppy?”

Shane shudders in his arms, and Ilya smiles when he feels the other’s kitty claws digging into him.

Ilya laughs and wraps his arms fully around Shane this time, hugging him tight against his chest. “You have nothing to worry about, okay? There will be plenty of activities tonight, so if Troy and Harris are making you uncomfortable, then we can just go somewhere else. Or there’s always my playroom if things get too intense.” Ilya pulls back to cup both of Shane’s cheeks. “Plus, I thought you were excited to introduce me to your new fox friend.”

Shane lets out a little rumbly sound in excitement, and Ilya can’t resist pecking him on the lips.

Admittedly, Ilya was pretty excited to meet Brooks’ Dom, too. He didn’t know much about the pairing, other than the few bits that Shane had told him, but there was certainly something to be learned from a Dom of an established pet. Presumably, Grey had a lot of experience being a dedicated pet owner, and Ilya was eager to pick his brain. If there were ways that he could make Shane’s experience as a kitten even better, then Ilya wanted to know. His research could only get him so far.

They finish getting dressed, and Ilya wonders if Shane notices that he’s got him in the same outfit from the Fire and Ice event back at Hush—a silky sheer baby blue long-sleeve top that hangs off of him like a pirate’s blouse, ribbons suspended from the neckline that Ilya ties off loosely in a bow. He watches as the realization works its way over Shane’s face, his eyebrows furrowing when it starts to come together.

“Fire and Ice?” He guesses, glancing up at Ilya for confirmation, and Ilya smiles, smoothing the lightweight fabric over Shane’s chest.

“My smart baby,” he coos, cupping one of Shane’s pecs intentionally before dragging his thumb over Shane’s nipple to watch him shiver. “I know you were upset about not getting to participate last time, so I figured we would recreate it. I, personally, was pretty excited about the wax play,” he mentions lightly, risking a glance at Shane to gauge his reaction.

“W-wax play?” Shane repeats in a stutter, his brown eyes going a bit hazy and half-lidded.

“Mhm,” Ilya hums patiently, cupping Shane’s neck in one large hand as he strokes his thumb across Shane’s jawline. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Shane’s eyes focus up all of a sudden as he schools his expression into something more fierce. “No,” he scoffs, but he’s trying to avoid Ilya’s gaze again.

“No?” Ilya questions, gently redirecting him back to center. “You’re not scared of all the things I’m going to do to you? Not scared of the way I’m gonna make you fall apart in front of our friends?”

“Ilya—” Shane says lightly.

“No, not Ilya,” he corrects, shaking his head. “That is not how you address me, is it?”

Shane hiccups a gasp and drops his head forward. “N-no, sir.”

“Oh, is it Sir tonight?” Ilya raises his eyebrows in amusement. “I thought it was Alpha, but Sir works perfectly fine for me. You gonna be on your best behavior for me? Gonna show Troy and Harris and Brooks and his Dom what a good boy you are? Good kitten for your Alpha?”

“Yes, sir.” Shane nods emphatically.

“You better,” Ilya warns. “I will not be embarrassed by bad behavior at my club. You need to set a good example for everyone else, okay? Troy and Brooks have not been to a partner event before. It is up to you to show them how a good pet conducts themselves. Yes? Tell me.”

“I will,” Shane blurts out. “I’ll be so good for you. I’ll do everything you ask. I won’t color.”

“Woah,” Ilya frowns, his heart lurching in his chest as he pulls back to look at Shane properly. “Hey. Shane? Look at me, please,” he requests, waiting until he has the other’s attention before continuing. “Your colors are for always, okay? You are never going to be in trouble for using them. Ever. You are not bad because you use your colors. Do you understand me?”

Shane blinks his big, brown doe eyes up at him, watching him carefully before he tips his head in a nod.

“Sweetheart,” Ilya tries again because, frankly, he finds what Shane just said to be pretty concerning. “Have you been thinking you’re being bad when you’re coloring? Can you explain to me why you said that?”

Shane sighs and looks down at the ground, his shoulders lifting in a half-shrug. “I dunno,” he gets out softly. “I feel like I’m disappointing you if I color out of something you clearly want to do. Like…like the wax?”

“Baby, no.” Ilya shakes his head resolutely. “You are never disappointing me, and certainly not by coloring, okay? The only thing I want out of our scenes is for us to be safe. As long as you are safe and enjoying yourself, then I could not be happier. I would be far more disappointed if you didn’t use your colors than if you did. That is why they are there, hm? Your safeword, too. Do you understand?”

Shane glances up at him from under his eyelashes and nods lightly, but Ilya still feels on edge. Shane usually had no problem using his colors. In fact, he was so good at it that they’d never had much of a real scare before—with Shane usually coloring before anything bad could happen. Now, though…now Ilya was wondering how much guilt he was carrying by using those colors. Had he thought Ilya was upset with him every single time? Had Ilya not been intentional enough about talking him up in those instances? Did they jump back into their scenes too early? Maybe Shane wanted to stop altogether when he colored. Maybe Ilya had pushed him into continuing when he wasn’t ready to.

“If wax is a red for you, then we will not do wax. I was just…I was playing into it before,” Ilya attempts to correct, wondering if it was his demeanor that had scared Shane. “But you know I would always want you to color, right?” He tries to clarify one more time.

“Yeah,” Shane utters quietly, but he’s still trying to keep from staring him right in the eyes.

“Shane,” Ilya presses the issue, squeezing Shane’s hand tightly in his. “I am so beyond satisfied with our sex life. Like, literally, beyond, beyond satisfied. I only suggest doing new things because…because I thought you liked exploring. I thought you wanted to try all of these things. The maybes from your list. But if that’s no longer the case, then we don’t have to. We never have to do anything you don’t want to do. Even if you got sick of the cat stuff one day.”

It’s very obviously the wrong thing to say considering how Shane’s face pinches up in hurt immediately after.

“Shane—”

“Stop it,” Shane fires back, pushing his way out of Ilya’s arms.

“Котёнок,” Ilya tries again, pleading this time.

“Don’t ‘котёнок’ me,” he laughs bitterly. “Do you think this is a fucking game or something? What? Like this is all just a phase and I’m going to get bored of it and be normal at some point—”

“Shane, please—”

“I got tattoos, Ilya.” Shane points to the back of his neck. “Permanent. Forever.”

“Yes, I know that—”

“If you’re holding out for me to give this up and just be a regular sub—” Shane shakes his head.

“Hey,” Ilya barks harshly at him, anger dripping into his voice this time. “Don’t villainize me for trying to communicate that I am comfortable with the fact that your needs might change at some point. I have done everything under the sun to make sure things are perfect for you. I designed your cat playroom, I made sure the team would accept you as you are, I proposed with a fucking collar,” Ilya reminds him, feeling his face start to go red with emotion. “Do not act like I am anything other than hopelessly in love with every single part of you.”

“Ilya—”

“No,” Ilya says decisively, pointing to the ground in front of him. “I want you on your knees right fucking now. Do not argue with me because I am sick of this attitude. If you need help remembering who you belong to and in what capacity, then I am happy to remind you. Kneel. Right now.”

Shane blinks at him a few times before slowly lowering himself to the ground, but he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak again, so Ilya shoves two fingers past his lips before he can, gripping onto Shane’s hair to get the other to look up at him.

“I am your owner. I know it, and you know it,” Ilya tells him surely. “You are my pet, right now and forever. You do not get upset with me for trying to comfort you,” he says, level and clear. “All I was saying is that if you ever change your mind about anything, I am still going to love you exactly as you are. I am sorry if I made it seem like I do not take your kitty tendencies seriously, but I think we both know that is very much not the case. I give you everything. All you have to do is ask and it is yours, and if there is something you do not want to do, then we will not. Do not purposely misunderstand me because you are feeling scared or insecure. Got it?” Ilya looks him over seriously.

There’s pain and regret in Shane’s eyes as he nods around Ilya’s fingers, suckling on them like he wants to make it up to him. But the best Ilya can ask for is that Shane stays right here to let his mind go blank.

“Good,” Ilya replies, his voice softening slightly as he loosens his grip on Shane’s hair to glide his fingers through the silky black strands. “Now, we are going to stay here for the next ten minutes. I am going to pet you, and you are going to serve me like the good kitten I know you are, and then when we are done, you are going to come up here and kiss me and we will make up. I am not taking you to this event in the middle of a fight, especially one that we are having for no good reason.”

Ilya watches as some of the tension starts to drain from Shane’s shoulders, the other’s mouth going lax around his fingers as he leans into Ilya’s soft pets. He was a fucking kitten, alright. He could be feisty at one moment, lashing out in a fit of rage with fangs and claws, and then melting under Ilya’s attention the next, taking scratches behind the ear like a good, good boy.

Ilya sighs and tries to do the same. There were no boring days as a cat owner—that much was true—and as much as he was certain that Shane was a permanent fixture in his life at this point, his temporary moments of doubt could still scare Ilya half to death. He knew that was all it was for Shane, too—being afraid—but it didn’t make the lash-outs any less jarring. It didn’t serve to offer Ilya any additional peace of mind.

The ten minutes must be nearly up by the time Shane starts to grow restless, rubbing his cheek against the jean fabric of Ilya’s thigh, so Ilya slowly pulls his fingers from between Shane’s lips and ducks slightly to pull him to his feet.

Shane is on him in an instant, falling into his arms in a bone-crushing hug, whimpering like the mini argument between them has been causing him actual physical pain while he was forced to kneel and tackle his thoughts.

“M’sorry. M’sorry. M’sorry,” Shane gets out in between licks over Ilya’s neck as Ilya swallows and holds him close.

“Baby, it’s okay. I just…I hate the insinuation that I’m holding out for you to give this up. I never want you to feel like that’s true. I love you exactly as you are, cat or otherwise, but it doesn’t mean I don’t 100% see you as my kitten for life.”

“I know,” Shane agrees, his lower lip shaking as he headbutts into Ilya’s chest. “But when you say stuff like I might not want to do this one day, it…it makes me feel like maybe…like maybe you won’t want to do it one day.”

“Shane,” Ilya exhales in exasperation, wrapping him up so tightly that bruises will surely start to form in the next day or so. “I do not know how much clearer I can be. I am in this for the long haul. I will play owner to your котёнок for the rest of forever. I’m never going to get sick of it. I’m never not going to want you because of it. I just need you to trust me when I say that. And I also need you to continue communicating with me. I am very concerned about what you said regarding your colors.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane huffs, rubbing his cheek all over the fabric of Ilya’s shirt. “I…I do color. You know I always color. I color too much probably.”

“No,” Ilya says sternly, gripping his hair once more. “There is no such thing as coloring too much. You are doing a perfect job when you color for me because it keeps you safe. It allows us to keep exploring things without the risk of either one of us getting hurt, okay? And you should not feel guilty or ashamed over that. I never want you to think I’m upset with you for coloring. I would rather you color too much than have you not color at all and have something terrible happen to you. Do you understand me?”

Shane swallows and nods, glancing up at him from where he’s still buried in Ilya’s chest. “I do want to try the wax play,” he clarifies, scratching his blue ocean claws over Ilya’s shirt. “I’m just worried it’s going to hurt a lot. Or I’m going to freak out in front of Troy and Brooks.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Ilya assures him unwaveringly. “I am going to keep a careful eye on you like always, and if I do not think you’re in a good state of mind to do the wax, then we will not. Or we will try it later in the privacy of my playroom, okay? There is nothing for you to worry about. I just need to make sure you communicate your limits to me always. That is the most important part. The rest, you can leave entirely up to me. I am going to take good, good care of you like I do every time, hm? Can you trust me on that?”

“Of course,” Shane murmurs, and his lips have worked their way into a little smile this time. “Trust you so much. Best Dom in the world. You make me so happy,” he says softly, looking up at Ilya with so, so much adoration in his eyes.

He’s going down, probably from the way Ilya’s been talking to him in loud, stern declarations—paired, of course, with the kneeling activity. That’s okay, though. For tonight, Ilya would rather have him a little loose than too tightly wound up. Shane’s biggest enemy, sometimes, could be his own head. Mostly, it was Ilya’s job to get him out of it.

-

When they get to the club, the first thing Shane is met with is Troy catapulting into his arms. Or pupapulting. Maybe. If things went as planned.

“I missed you,” Troy says breathlessly into his chest as he twirls Shane in a circle.

“Hi,” Shane laughs happily, pressing his face into Troy’s neck to inhale his familiar scent.

“How was the proposal?” Troy asks, his expression wide in excitement when he pulls back to address Shane properly.

Shane blushes and ducks his head, glancing back at Ilya, who’s watching him with warm eyes while talking to Harris. “It was amazing. He rented the whole aquarium out and…and we saw a dolphin show…”

“Dolphin show? Oh my god, that must have been amazing.”

“Yeah.” Shane bites his lip to keep from grinning too big. “You should have seen the collar he got me.”

“Collar?” Troy questions, eyebrows raising in surprise. “Wait, he got you a new collar? I thought you already have one.”

“Yes, well. He needed one for special occasions,” Ilya chimes in, stalking over to slink an arm around Shane. “We cannot have him wearing any regular old collar for our wedding, and certainly not for our collaring ceremony.”

“Collaring ceremony?” Harris repeats. “Woah. What’s that?”

“It is a ceremony like a wedding, but more for our dynamic. If I am going to marry Shane when he is human, I think it is only fair to celebrate his kitten self as well. I want to pledge myself to him fully, ears and all,” Ilya hums, poking at Shane’s black-speckled white ear.

Shane is feeling like a clingy kitty right now, so he separates from Troy fully to push his way into Ilya’s arms, head-butting him in the chin.

Ilya laughs and holds him close around the waist. “You are the most драгоценный. Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Shane responds, wrinkling his nose cutely when Ilya ducks down to kiss it.

“What does that mean?” Troy frowns, looking between them in cluelessness.

“Shane, what does that mean?” Ilya prompts, almost like a challenge.

“Драгоценный means precious,” Shane recites, his eyes never leaving Ilya’s. Not until he hears Harris and Troy snickering about something in his peripherals. “What?” Shane scrunches his face up.

“Nothing,” Harris chuckles, tangling his fingers with Troy’s. “It’s just that every time I think you two have reached maximum levels of lovey-dovey, you end up proving me wrong.”

Shane pouts and turns to look at Ilya, but his husband is just watching him fondly, and Shane’s expression falls away before he can remember his train of thought.

“See?” Harris says to Troy in the distance. “Hopeless, I swear.”

“Shut up,” Troy laughs, shoving at Harris. “Let them be in love.”

“I am. It’s just funny. What are you being so fidgety for?” Harris grins, pulling Troy closer by the hold he has on his hand.

“I’m notttt,” Troy drags the word playfully. “I’m just nervous, okay?”

“Mm, you are not the only one,” Ilya volunteers, dragging his gaze over to Troy at the change in topic. “Shane is very nervous, too. Aren’t you, моя любовь?” Ilya teases softly, poking at Shane’s sides.

“What the fuck,” Shane whisper-scoffs in annoyance, but there’s no real weight behind it. “I am not. Why are you saying that?”

Ilya rolls his eyes and pulls Shane close, pressing a firm kiss to his hair before addressing their friends. “He is worried about going down around you guys.”

“Oh,” Harris replies, eyebrows furrowing. “Really? But he’s been down around us before, right? That’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, but not like—” Shane sighs, thunking his head back against Ilya’s chest. “Not like sexually,” he mutters under his breath. “It’s different. Being all the way down at an event.”

“Yeah, but we saw you before your playdate with Ivan,” Troy reminds him, his lips twisted from lack of understanding.

“And you saw how far down he goes from me barely even touching him,” Ilya fills in the gaps. “He is not wrong to be nervous. Shane goes down very, very far. It is a lot for someone to see him this way, which is why he used to wear a mask at the old club. But what I was telling him is that he has absolutely nothing to worry about because he knows you two would never judge him or look at him differently. He knows you are here because you are interested in the same things we are and you want to explore and learn more.”

“That’s right,” Harris agrees without question. “I won’t pretend to know how you act when you’re all the way down, and I can’t speak for Troy, but based on what I’ve seen so far, I don’t think you’re going to scare either of us off.” He offers a warm smile. “We totally know what we’re signing ourselves up for by being here.”

“Yeah,” Troy frowns like he’s offended that Shane would even have that fear. “I thought…I thought you knew you could trust me with anything. I’m not gonna like…judge you for being yourself in your husband’s club.”

“Owner,” Ilya corrects darkly, his grip tightening around Shane’s waist. “If you two are going to be attending events now, then you should know that, when we are here, I am his owner.”

Shane sucks in a breath at the terminology, feeling butterflies fluttering wildly in his stomach. His head is going fuzzy already, and he finds himself linking his fingers through Ilya’s belt loop to give the other some semblance of a warning.

Ilya looks down at him heavily, his own eyes alert and zeroed in, like he’s hyper-attuned to each and every one of Shane’s needs right now. “Вниз, малыш?”

Shane nods profusely. He is going down. He’s going down fast considering everything that’s happened this week, as well as his and Ilya’s fight—and resolution—from earlier. Holy fuck. He’s going down hard and fast. He feels light-headed, like his feet could dip right out from under him any second now.

“Alright, alright,” Ilya soothes, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze. “Shane.”

Shane bristles at Ilya intentionally using his name to keep him more present. God, he wanted this bad. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to go quiet.

“Baby, I want you to try and stay up until we meet Brooks and his Dom, okay? If you go to level three now, you are going to be too overwhelmed later. We need to stay up a little longer. Yes, Shane?”

Shane growls and buries his face in Ilya’s neck to hide how upset he is at having been told no. It wasn’t every day that Shane could fall right to level three, especially in the company of people his level 3 cat self wasn’t too, too familiar with yet, so Ilya yanking him out of it at their first event here feels downright cruel.

“He’s so cute,” Harris mutters to Troy.

“Hey,” Troy practically barks at him.

“You’re way cuter,” Harris laughs wildly, holding his hands up in defense as Troy tries to get in his face.

“Wow, this place looks amazing!” A new voice joins them all of a sudden, and Shane turns sharply at the sound.

It’s unmistakably Brooks, his tone eager and optimistic just like Shane remembers it, but when Shane sees who’s standing next to him, he can’t help cowering a little, sinking back into Ilya’s space. He stumbles, forcing Ilya to catch him by the hips while he raises an eyebrow in question; however, it isn’t long before Ilya spots him, too.

Brooks’ Dom is massive. He’s got several inches on Ilya, who Shane considers to be quite big to begin with, but it isn’t just that; he’s wide, too. Muscular. His shoulders are practically the size of Shane’s head, no exaggeration, and he’s covered from head to toe in tattoos. They aren’t colorful tattoos like Brooks’ either; no, they’re tattoos like big spiders and a long snake with fangs—not glittery fangs, but big, gnarly, bloody snake-biting fangs.

Brooks is pretty tall himself, almost Ilya’s height, but he looks tiny next to Grey. Grey, with his dark hair and brooding brown eyes; Grey, whose lips haven’t twitched since they walked in.

“Oh my god. Shane, there you are!” Brooks cheers, rushing over to grab Shane’s arm excitedly. He’s got his sparkly fangs on, same as last time, but there are more rainbow jewels over his teeth, and Shane is delighted to find a big, fluffy pair of white fox ears coming out of his hair. “Grey, look, see! A cat! I told you!” He points to Shane.

Grey lets out a gruff of acknowledgement while he surveys the club, looking like he’s making a note of all the security guards—there are more than usual scattered around to make sure the event goes off without a hitch.

“You must be Brooks,” Ilya smiles, keeping his arm wrapped around Shane’s waist as he greets the duo. “And this is your Dom? Grey, was it?”

“Yup,” Brooks grins, scampering back over to Grey to pull him closer to the group of them. “Shane is the one who I tattooed the paw print freckles on. Remember? He’s, like, the first ever to get them.”

“Yeah,” Grey says deeply in response.

Shane sinks a little further into Ilya’s grasp, trying to make himself as small as possible in the presence of this new Dominant.

“I’m Ilya. Shane’s Dom, and I also own this place along with my friend Svetlana. She is mostly in Montreal running our other club, though,” Ilya explains, reaching his hand out to introduce himself to Grey.

Grey looks him up and down in consideration, flashing his eyes at Brooks for a moment before stepping forward to shake Ilya’s hand heavily.

Shane turns to press his face into Ilya’s neck and whines.

“Sorry about him,” Ilya apologizes while cupping a protective hand around the back of Shane’s neck. “He gets a little nervous around Doms he does not know. He will warm up.”

“Oh, Grey’s not as scary as he looks,” Brooks laughs, grabbing onto Grey’s hand as he practically wraps himself around the other’s big arm. “He pretends to be, but he’s secretly a big softie.” Brooks pokes at his arm a few times until Grey glares down at him. Brooks just giggles before he stops.

“Um. Hi, I’m Harris,” Harris says next, though he doesn’t make a move to shake Grey’s hand. “This is my boyfriend Troy.”

“Boyfriend?” Ilya says in surprise, and Shane lifts his head to look at them with wide eyes as well.

“Boyfriend,” Troy agrees, his cheeks flushing. “While you guys were at the aquarium, when we got home, we um…we went for a drive. Turns out people have already started putting their Christmas lights up.”

“That was your first date? Oh my god. That is sooo cute,” Brooks coos, rubbing his cheek over Grey’s arm.

He’s acting a lot more like a fox now that he has his Dom with him, and Shane is watching him curiously, tracking each animal-like behavior with slitted eyes.

“Wait, but you’re not wearing ears,” Brooks frowns, pointing to Troy’s empty head of shaggy hair. “I thought…I thought you guys were both pets.”

“Don’t be rude,” Grey says stiffly.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Brooks pouts.

Shane’s nose twitches when Brooks turns to nip at Grey’s tattooed bicep, which is bulging out of the sleeve of his t-shirt.

Ilya’s in a light blue fitted tank top with his arms equally on display, so Shane mimics the motion, nipping at Ilya’s bicep as well. He tries to be more fox-like than cat-like just to see how it feels.

“C’mon, princess. Daddy needs a drink.”

Troy raises his eyebrows in surprise, sharing a glance with Harris before Ilya clears his throat.

“Good idea. Shane could use a drink as well. Troy? Harris?” Ilya asks, stepping over to greet Silas at the bar. “We have themed drinks tonight. Fire if you’re feeling spicy, ice if you want something a little more sweet.”

“Daddy, please, can I have the sweet one?” Brooks begs.

Shane blinks and looks up at Ilya, tugging at his shirt. “Can I have the sweet one too, please?”

Ilya smirks down at him, ducking to kiss his nose. “Oh, you are being all polite in front of your new friend now? What happened to your bratty kitty attitude a few minutes ago?”

Shane crosses his arms over his chest and grumbles in response.

“Oh, there’s my angry baby,” Ilya chuckles, pulling Shane closer by his collar. “Yes, you can have the sweet one. Now, stop giving me attitude and be my good nice boy for me, okay?”

“I’m always good,” Shane huffs, but he lets himself fall into Ilya’s chest once more, the other wrapping two big arms around him as they wait at the bar.

“Are you, um—” Troy stutters to Harris. “Are you supposed to pick my drink for me?”

“Oh, uh.” Harris’ eyebrows wrinkle. “I guess we didn’t talk about that in our boundaries discussion, did we?”

“Not really,” Troy gets out nervously.

“I’m so proud of you guys,” Ilya smiles, eyeing them fondly. “You’re already doing better than I did with Shane. I practically tricked him into coming to Hush, initially. Didn’t even tell him what was going on. Shitty fucking Dom move on my part.”

Shane frowns and turns in his arms, clutching onto his belt. “You made sure I was safe the whole time,” he practically whispers, pulling Ilya down until the other grants him a kiss.

“Mm, yes. But you were in subspace, like, immediately,” Ilya hums against his mouth.

“Wait, you guys met at a BDSM club?” Brooks asks in interest, sucking on a straw from the blue drink Grey has just handed him, dry ice coming out of it like smoke.

“What did I tell you about manners?” Grey mutters under his breath.

“I’m not being rude!” Brooks protests, his jaw dropping as he looks between Grey and Ilya.

Ilya laughs, kissing across Shane’s freckles. “It is fine, really. I am not bothered by questions. Me and Shane met through hockey, initially. But we did not get together until this summer when he came into my other club, Hush.”

“Only cause you got the hotel room number wrong ten years ago,” Shane says back, finding his voice again. The conversation and the constant use of his name were keeping him from slipping too far. He could be human around these people—for now, at least.

“You will never let me forget it, but it does not matter anyway because we still found our way to each other. And this summer, we will get married, and the whole world will know.”

Shane swallows thickly. He hadn’t really thought about that, the implications of being married legally. They’d talked about it extensively, of course, but it had been mostly fantasy up until this point. But now, they have a venue confirmed, and their bachelor parties are coming up fast, and…and it still feels like there are a lot of things they haven’t talked about yet. Things like coming out, and last names, and so many other thoughts that are suddenly starting to crowd Shane’s head.

Ilya’s eyebrows pinch together like he realizes there’s something not quite right going on, but Brooks speaks up before he gets the chance.

“You’re getting married?” He exclaims loudly, practically pushing out of Grey’s grasp to rush over to Shane’s side. “Do you have a ring? Can I see it?”

Luckily, Ilya is pulling his necklace out from under his shirt before Shane can respond. “Technically, Shane proposed to me, so I am the one with the ring, but I proposed to him this weekend with a special collar for our collaring ceremony.” Ilya’s lips curl as he cups Shane’s chin. “Isn’t that right, моя любовь?”

-

“You’re Russian?” Grey pipes up, asking Ilya a question for probably the first time this evening.

Ilya turns slightly at the prompt, thanking Silas when the bartender delivers Shane’s drink, and passing it to his kitten with a hand on the small of Shane’s back. “Mm, yes. You speak Russian?” He asks curiously, since Ilya wasn’t getting a hint of any Russian accent.

“Some of my clients do,” Grey explains, clinking his glass against Brooks’ when he receives his amber drink. He takes a swig and doesn’t offer any more towards the conversation, much to Ilya’s dismay. It seemed that this Grey guy was much more of a closed book than his rainbow counterpart.

“What do you do?” Harris thankfully asks, while Ilya makes sure Shane likes his drink.

“I handle security for high-profile individuals,” Grey answers.

“He’s a bodyguard for all these super rich and famous people. Like…like the Canadian Prime Minister and…and Rose Landry!”

“Brooks,” Grey sighs, pulling the other over to him so he can place a big hand over his mouth. “That’s supposed to be private, remember, kit?”

“Shane’s best friends with Rose Landry,” Troy comments, smiling at Harris as they cheers their identical ice-themed drinks.

Ilya is the only one not drinking, he realizes, but Ilya rarely drank in scenes with Shane, and certainly not when they were at the club. As far as Ilya was concerned, the club was more dangerous than anywhere else, mostly because Shane’s reactions could be unpredictable when he was around others in a more public setting.

“Woah, no way!” Brooks declares after worming his way out of Grey’s grip. “That means she’s totally met Grey before. Oh my god, you’ve gotta tell her next time, babe. Rose is best friends with a cat! And you’re dating a fox,” he laughs loudly, already looking a little tipsy from his few sips of alcohol.

“Just…careful who you tell about the cat thing,” Shane says lightly. “Or about me and Ilya. We’re not…we’re not out or anything.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, no, totally,” Brooks agrees, raising his eyebrows when Grey looks at him in warning.

“So, uh. How did you two meet?” Ilya changes the subject because he doesn’t particularly feel like talking about their coming out, or lack thereof, at the present moment.

Brooks grins and turns in Grey’s arms, putting a hand on Grey’s chest. “Wanna tell them? Or should I?”

“You tell them, kit.” Grey looks down at him intensely, giving Brooks a nod in approval. “And then, we’re going to look around the event. Enough chit-chat.”

“You’re not going to come with us?” Troy frowns, glancing between Brooks and Grey before looking back at Harris.

“Wait, please, Daddy.” Brooks puts his hands together in a begging motion. “Can’t we hang out with my friends a little longer?”

Ilya licks over his lips in contemplation. He doesn’t know this Dom very well, doesn’t want to step on anyone’s toes by butting in if his two cents aren’t welcome, but he’s also aware of just how badly Shane wanted to spend time with Brooks tonight.

“We were actually all on our way over to the ice station,” Ilya mentions lightly. “You’re welcome to join us, if you like. I know my котёнок was really looking forward to getting to know you two better.”

Grey’s eyes slide to Shane at the use of the word котёнок, and Ilya’s heart throbs when Shane goes stiff under his gaze.

“Baby, you’re alright,” Ilya says into his ear, aware of the fact that Grey is a pretty similar size to Nikolai. Maybe Shane was getting flashbacks to his assault. “That’s just Brooks’ Dom. He’s not going to hurt you, yeah?”

Troy’s eyebrows press together in concern. “You okay, Shane?”

“Let’s just switch to kitty mode for a bit,” Ilya tells him decisively. “I know I said you should stay up before, but if it will make you feel safer, then I would prefer for you to go down.”

It’s like Shane relaxes instantly at the permission. Ilya sinks his fingers through Shane’s hair, smiling when the other leans into his touch.

“That’s a good boy. I’ve got you. You’re always safe with me, драгоценный котёнок.”

“Is Grey scaring him?” Brooks asks, biting one of his sparkly fangs into his lower lip in concern.

“He is okay,” Ilya assures the other. “He just had a bad experience with a Dom that looks a little bit like Grey. It is nothing personal, I promise. He gets nervous sometimes.”

Grey seems to loosen only slightly, his eyes giving him away as he watches Shane with what looks like a hint of sympathy. “Go on and tell the story, princess,” Grey nods in Brooks’ direction. “Another Dominant asked you a question.”

Brooks beams at the acknowledgement and then turns back to the group with what looks like an animated story at the edge of his lips. “Well, it was two years ago, and I was still working as an apprentice to this big-name tattoo artist. Grey came in asking for this really intricate piece that needed several sessions to get it all done. I assisted my boss for the first session, but I could tell Grey wasn’t really vibing with the piece, so um. I sort of…made his appointment when I knew the artist wouldn’t be there, and uh,” Brooks laughs awkwardly. “I finished the piece myself in secret. He found out, of course, and like, totally fired me. But—”

“But it didn’t matter because you’re way too talented to be working for next to nothing under some snobby asshole who doesn’t appreciate a good artist when they see one,” Grey shrugs, tugging on Brooks’ fox tail key chain. “I still think you should open up your own shop, but—”

“But I can’t afford that yet,” Brooks reminds him, pointing a finger at his Dom. “So, in the meantime—”

“In the meantime, you should let Daddy take care of what’s his,” Grey says sternly, and for a second, Ilya thinks they’re witnessing something they shouldn’t be—a topic that’s maybe a little too sensitive for public consumption—but in the end, Brooks just giggles and grips Grey’s face to pull him in for a kiss.

“No, thank you. I’m no one’s fox but my own.”

“Yeah, right.” Grey rolls his eyes, but Ilya can see there’s nothing but love there. It makes him look down at his own pet in adoration.

“That’s really sweet,” Harris comments, and Ilya is delighted to see how comfortable he and Troy seem to be around each other compared to the last time they were at the club.

“Alpha,” Shane mutters into his chest, tugging on his shirt once more.

Ilya can tell he’s getting impatient standing around and talking, so Ilya clears his throat to get the attention of the rest of the group. “Is everyone ready to migrate over to the ice section? It is a little bit tamer than the fire side, so I figured it would be a nice warm-up.”

Ilya isn’t afraid to say he’s really outdone himself with the décor this time. All of the tables on the Ice side of the club have genuine icicles hanging from the edges that are being preserved by the extreme temperature control of the smoky dry ice beneath them. There are similar activities to the last event, the first being a table full of ice cubes, iced metal massage globes, and chilled metal plugs that are meant to be taken for private use in some of the playrooms. He catches Shane eying those heavily as they make their way over, and Ilya gives him a squeeze in promise.

“What’s the deal with some of this stuff?” Grey asks bluntly as he surveys the tools and items available. Ilya notices his gaze has drifted to the chilled paddles sitting in one of the metal ice tanks.

“The plugs and paddles are more intended for use in our private playrooms. They’re available to partners via the special menu items at the bar,” Ilya explains, pointing back in the direction they just came from. “The ice cubes and massage globes can be used in the club common spaces. Some of our events are more public-play friendly than others. The intention with this event was to start off more tame to give everyone a chance to feel out how the partner events work, but we will likely go up in intensity once we get a better idea of what our members are looking for. We will have an Intro to BDSM night soon to discuss different kinks and gauge the interest level for certain types of events.”

“Intro to BDSM?” Grey arches an eyebrow.

“For anyone who is new to kink or is maybe interested in delving into something they have not tried before. At my other club, there became a strong interest in learning more about pet play after our first pet-specific event. I think it is a kink that is often misunderstood, so I would like to offer some low-stake demos for anyone who would like to dip their toes in. Actually,” Ilya pauses, looking Brooks and Grey over thoughtfully. “We do not have a pairing for the pet play demo yet. Is there any way the two of you would be interested?”

Suddenly, Shane is a very angry presence at his side, digging his claws punishingly into Ilya’s arm while he bares his fangs in a display of aggression that Ilya has not seen before, producing a growl from deep within his throat.

Ilya presses his eyebrows together in confusion as he turns to Shane to address him directly. “You will not be comfortable demoing around our team, котёнок. You know Bood and Hazy are hoping to attend the event with their partners. Do you honestly think you’ll be okay with going into your level 3 kitten space around them?” He says under his breath, trying to keep the conversation as private as possible.

-

Shane has no idea what he would or wouldn’t be comfortable with; all he knows is that Ilya has just asked another pet to demo an intro to pet play in his club. He feels a terrible sensation washing over him—one that says he isn’t good enough, that Ilya hadn’t even thought to ask him before going straight to Brooks, like Brooks was the model pet around here instead of Shane. Is that really what Ilya thinks? That he isn’t capable of being a good kitten for his owner? That he isn’t well-trained enough to be put on display for others? The emotions threaten to consume him as he has a hard time catching his breath.

“Baby, do not freak out on me,” Ilya says, doing that thing with his voice like he’s trying to be grounding, but all Shane hears is that he’s failing. Again. “Hey, listen to me. Look at me, please.” Ilya tries again to get his attention. Shane is just trying not to cry in front of all his friends.

But then, Ilya’s hand grips the back of his neck abruptly and tugs, scruffing Shane like he’s a kitten who has threatened to scamper off. He feels that way—like his little kitten paws want to carry him as far away from here as fast as his four legs will take him.

“Котёнок,” Ilya says sharply, his voice gruff and rugged in Shane’s ear like it gets when he is not messing around. “I told you I did not want to fight with you tonight at this event. If you want to discuss the idea of demoing later, then we will do that, but do not ruin our night by letting your emotions get the best of you. I love you, and I would love nothing more than to put you on display for everyone to see, like the very good kitten I know you are, but I will not risk your comfort or your safety, and you will not be upset with me for keeping your boundaries in mind.”

Shane mewls softly, feeling himself go lax under Ilya’s hold.

“I want you on your best behavior right now. Shut your human brain off, and listen to your owner. There should be no more thoughts in your head. I want you empty and brainless for me, following my instructions and doing exactly as you’re told. Otherwise, we will leave here this instant, and I will lock you up in your crate for the rest of the evening.”

Shane shudders and whimpers at the thought, but before he can process the words for much longer, Ilya is tugging at the front of his hair until Shane is forced to meet his eyeline. Ilya’s gaze is heavy and serious, and all it takes is one look at him for Shane to start feeling gooey.

“Веди себя хорошо—иначе пожалеешь. Понял?” Ilya says under his breath.

Shane doesn’t understand, though. Not really. Not at all, actually. He feels himself slipping at the seams, going hazy around the edges, attaching himself to Ilya’s face, losing himself in Ilya’s voice.

“Good,” Ilya soothes next, his hand sliding onto Shane’s shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze. “It is time to focus on me. I do not need your input; I just need you to listen and follow my lead. Because you’re very well-trained, aren’t you, kitty? I thought you wanted to show our friends how good you are for me.”

Shane is good. He’s so fucking good, in fact, that he surges forward to hug Ilya tightly around the neck, burying his face in the other’s skin to give his owner a heap of kitten licks.

“Oh, there’s my baby. That’s a good boy. Oh, you are very well-behaved, indeed. Now, that is a kitty worthy of showing off. Why don’t you show me how good you can be tonight, and that will let me know whether you are capable of being a demo kitty, hm? Does that sound fair?”

Shane pokes his tongue out while his lips curl at the sides because, now that he’s been given a goal, he’s a kitten on a mission. He had to be the best kitty possible to prove to Ilya that he was worthy of being demoed. He was a model cat, after all. The very best. Ilya always said so.

“Come with me, kitty. Let’s sit right here.”

Ilya leads him to one of the ground-level icy coffee tables that are scattered throughout the area. Troy and Harris have already situated themselves on some of the fluffy beanbags, talking amongst themselves while they sip at their drinks.

Shane’s gaze drifts over to the other pairing, finding Grey surveying the array of supplies while Brooks talks animatedly about something art-related—Shane isn’t really sure. All he knows is that it’s chilly over here. He shivers and glances down to find Ilya sitting on a couch that’s low to the floor.

“In my lap, baby. You seem distracted, and I am requesting your attention, please. I want you totally focused on me. If you cannot listen to your owner in a group of our friends, I do not know how you expect to heed my commands in front of an entire group of strangers who are hoping to learn from you.”

Shane’s heart clenches from deep within his chest, feeling his throat get tighter, but he won’t cry. Instead, he collapses into Ilya’s lap and uses his paws to try and get the other as close as possible. He needs Ilya all over him, all around him, practically suffocating him until the only thing that Shane can see, hear, or process is his devoted, loving owner.

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want you desperate for me. Only me. I don’t know why you try to fight me sometimes. You know I only want what’s best for you. You are so quick to anger, and for what? Don’t you know by now that you are everything to me? That I would never, ever try to hurt you.”

Shane sniffles and nods against him because that was true. Ilya never intended to hurt his feelings. It was almost always a misunderstanding—a miscommunication of some kind—but Shane couldn’t help the way he reacted rashly. He supposed, in a way, he was just terrified that somehow his reality would prove to be a false one. Rose-colored glasses that had tricked him into thinking Ilya was the best thing on this Earth who wanted him just as fiercely, only to find that Ilya was nowhere near on the same page as Shane. It was never true, of course, never rooted in anything real, but it didn’t stop Shane from being afraid. There was always the chance that the next page of their story could be the last one. He could never sit comfortably in his happiness, too wary of what monsters might be lingering and lurking around the corner.

“Come on, angel. Spin around for me.” Ilya taps his hip once to get him to move, and Shane obeys immediately, twisting to accommodate and face away from him. Ilya wraps a large arm around his waist and shifts forward to pluck an ice cube from the table in front of them, pulling Shane back in his lap as he leans against the couch once more.

Shane inhales sharply when Ilya cups one of his pecs, gasping when the ice cube appears on his neck not even a half second later, Ilya’s lips and tongue tracing the drops of water the ice cube leaves in its wake as it drags along his shivered skin.

“Ilya,” Shane moans, yelping when Ilya pinches his nipple in reprimand.

“Is that what you call me in here?” Ilya says against his neck, sucking a mark just under the hinge of his jawline.

“No, sir,” Shane whimpers, shaking his head while his left nipple stays stuck between Ilya’s thumb and pointer finger.

“Sir or Alpha. We talked about this earlier, baby. Are you having trouble remembering? Because I can give you a reminder if you need.”

“No, sir,” Shane says again, desperately clawing at Ilya’s hand to get the other to release him.

“Good boy,” Ilya relents, letting go of Shane’s nipple in favor of dragging his nails down Shane’s chest, the ice cube showing up suddenly over the fabric of his other pec this time. Ilya cups his hand until the ice cube is flush against Shane’s right nipple, and Shane squirms wildly at how sensitive he feels right now. “You better not be trying to escape from me. I am going to take my time taking apart what is mine. You are a pet. You exist for my amusement. Say it back to me.”

“I’m a pet,” Shane gasps, throwing his head back against Ilya’s collarbone. “I exist for your amusement.”

“Your owner’s amusement,” Ilya corrects.

“I exist for my owner’s amusement.”

“Very good,” Ilya praises, and excitement swirls in Shane’s belly. “I have been coddling you too much lately. You need to remember your place. And that is kneeling at my feet, yes? Sitting nice and pretty in your crate while I handle all the important stuff. You have no room in your brain for logic or reason. The only thing you should be thinking about is how to please me, how to serve me, how to say thank you to me for giving you everything. Providing for you like the very dedicated Alpha that I am. Do you know how lucky you are? There are cats on the street who would kill to be in your position right now.”

Shane nods profusely. He knows he’s lucky. He knows Ilya is the best there is, and other cats would surely kill to have an owner as good as him, but he was also Shane’s. Made perfect for him in every single way.

He reaches for Ilya’s hand and desperately sucks two of his owner’s fingers into his mouth, wanting to prove so badly that he can be well-behaved, that he won’t embarrass Ilya at his event like he’d maybe done in the past by throwing a tantrum or having a panic attack.

“You are okay, baby,” Ilya murmurs into his ear. “I am talking dirty to you on purpose. You are not in trouble. But I do want to see how good you can be for me. If you really want to be our demo kitten for the pet play portion, you have to prove to me you can handle it.”

Shane purrs wildly around Ilya’s fingers. Ilya was just playing around. Shane feels warm at the fact that he’s in on it, that maybe Troy or Harris or Brooks or Grey will look over and think Ilya is being strict, when in actuality, he and Shane were just playing. It’s like they have their own language that no one else can understand. It makes Shane feel closer to him than ever.

-

It’s like something clicks for Ilya right then and there—the whole reason Shane will sometimes lose himself in a scene and start panicking, the whole reason he sometimes had to color red, or even just yellow. Ilya was working language into the scene without giving Shane a heads-up; he was doing it without even realizing himself sometimes, and it was throwing Shane off-guard, making Shane think he had done something wrong or was in trouble or even that Ilya’s fantasy talk was something he wanted to be reality. Communication—the issue that came back to bite him in the ass time and time again. He feels stupid. He feels like a failure Dom. He feels like this is something he needs to run by his specifically chosen kink-aware therapist.

“Good boy, that’s it,” Ilya coos, taking on a softer tone. “Love it when you purr for me. You showing off that pretty mouth for your owner? If you are going to demo for me, we will need to do some special training sessions so I can teach you lots of tricks.”

Ilya slowly starts to unbutton Shane’s shirt at the top so he can slide the ice cube across his bare chest, dipping his icy hand down to Shane’s upper abdomen.

Shane mewls, suckling harder at Ilya’s fingers like it’s bringing him comfort to have something else to focus on, something to throw his efforts into.

“Get me nice and wet. If you’re good for me, maybe I’ll take you back to my playroom and give you that metal plug I know you’ve been eying. Mm, horny baby. Maybe I’ll get you a cock ring, too. Something tells me you are not a kitten of endurance tonight,” Ilya sighs, pulling his hand from Shane’s shirt to slip his icy fingers under the fabric of Shane’s briefs instead, his nails barely grazing where Shane’s pubic hair has started to grow back in again.

He knows Troy and Harris are somewhere next to him; he knows Brooks and Grey exist nearby; but Ilya is gone right now. Shane is his appetizer, main course, and dessert all wrapped up in one. He has no time for drinks or pleasantries; the only thing he can focus on is devouring the delectable meal sat right on top of him.

Shane is open-mouth slobbering all over him at this point, so Ilya pulls his fingers from his kitten’s lips and grips his chin tightly, pulling him into a wet and messy lip-lock. He kisses Shane like he’s a fucking animal, like he’s a wolf playing with his food before he demolishes his prey. It’s not that far from the truth, really. Shane would let Ilya do anything he wanted because his Shane was desperate to please, and Ilya found that to be the hottest thing of all.

His hand is numb from the cold as he cups the ice cube around Shane’s half-hard cock under his briefs, the other whining deliciously into his mouth. Ilya swallows the sound, pulling him closer by the back of his neck while trying to absorb the taste of Shane’s tonsils against his very Shane-centered taste buds. As far as Ilya was concerned, every single part of Shane belonged to him. There was nothing that was off-limits. If Ilya could lick between the curvatures of his brain, he would.

“Holy shit. They sure are going for it,” Harris says from somewhere in the distance, but Ilya and Shane are none the wiser.

“Yeah. Wow,” Troy laughs nervously as both of their gazes drift to the table in front of them. “Maybe, um…maybe we should try the ice?”

Harris raises his eyebrows in surprise, setting his drink down next to him. “Yeah? You really want to?”

“I mean, yeah,” Troy shrugs, grinning tentatively. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Harris smiles in return, his eyes darting between the ice table and then back to Troy. “Did you, um…did you want me to try using the ice on you?”

“Oh,” Troy blanks, almost like he hadn’t considered someone would need to be on the receiving end of the ice. “Sure! Er— if you want to, I mean. I could use it on you, too.”

Harris chuckles and reaches to tangle his fingers with Troy’s. “Just relax.”

Troy swallows and nods jerkily, squeezing Harris’ fingers in his. “Yeah. Totally. I can do that.”

Harris laughs again like he doesn’t believe him, but he still leans forward to collect an ice cube in his hand, a full body shiver running through him when he does.

“Drama queen.” Troy rolls his eyes fondly, but he shuts right up when Harris presses the ice cube to the back of his hand. “Shit, you weren’t kidding.” His mouth widens in surprise as he shivers as well.

“Nope,” Harris pops the ‘p’. “Do you think Rozy shipped this stuff in from the North Pole?”

“H-how festive,” Troy shudders, closing his eyes when the ice cube goes higher up his arm.

“Is that okay?” Harris double-checks. “You remember our safeword, right?”

“Chiron,” Troy breathes out, but his eyes snap open a moment later once he realizes the implications of what he’s just said. “That wasn’t…that wasn’t me saying it, by the way.”

“No, I know,” Harris replies in amusement, and Troy blinks when the other leans over to kiss his cheek. “You’re so cute.”

Troy melts under the attention before jumping when the ice cube has made its way up to his collarbone. “Holy shit,” Troy blurts, tipping his head to lean on Harris’ shoulder. “That’s fucking freezing.”

“Why can’t we just go to one of the playrooms to use the plug?” Brooks complains. “Shane’s Dom said we totally can, right? And you said I couldn’t wear my tail plug, so I’m completely empty.”

“I’m about to take one of those chilled paddles and give you some fox taps until you’re black and blue if you don’t cut it out, kit. Let Daddy enjoy his drink. I told you I wanted to scope out the events here before we bring your tail. It’s not always appropriate. Not everything is just about you.”

“Everything’s always about me,” Brooks counters, his fangs pulling into a wide grin. “And the owner of the club literally has a pet. How would it not be appropriate?”

“Is your pet friend wearing his tail right now?” Grey challenges, nodding to Shane, who is still a writhing mess in Ilya’s lap.

“No,” Brooks relents slowly. “But maybe that’s just a personal boundary of theirs. That doesn’t mean I can’t wear my tail.”

“You don’t have your tail right now because you’re being a brat. No other reason.”

“Daddy,” Brooks groans.

Ilya sucks in a deep breath as he comes up for air, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the lax, nearly liquid creature in front of him. Shane is gone, gone, and Ilya probably should be more careful with him while in the presence of so many people. Still, it’s nice to be at an event that feels like it’s going well, for once. Especially in the face of so many of their last ones—the original version of this event coming to his mind first and foremost.

“You with me, gorgeous?” Ilya double-checks, gripping Shane’s chin until he gets a hazy half-nod from him in response. “Good boy. You are taking your ice cubes so well. Why don’t we have some human sips of our drink, hm?”

Shane moans as Ilya maneuvers him, but when he tries to hold the straw up to Shane’s lips, his kitty seems to want no part in it. Instead, Shane’s tongue dips out like he’s too much of a kitten right now to entertain doing something that might make him feel even slightly human.

Ilya shakes his head fondly and removes the straw, keeping one grounding hand on Shane’s abdomen while he tips the glass forward with his other to make it easier for Shane to reach the sugary blue liquid.

“Yummy, baby?” Ilya asks, smiling to himself when Shane hums in agreement. “Thank you for being very calm for me. You are being so sweet right now. Is very, very good, котёнок. Мой милый котенок, мой ангелочек.”

Shane purrs at the pet names (pun intended) and, eventually, grows bored with trying to get the last few drops of liquid with his tongue. He abandons the task altogether in favor of pushing his way back into Ilya’s arms, rubbing his cheek all over the scruff on Ilya’s chin.

“Careful, sweetness. You are going to tear up your pretty fur coat.” Ilya sets the glass down and then thumbs over Shane’s freckles affectionately. “Do you want to explore the fire side for a bit? Maybe we will come back for the chilled plugs when we are closer to the end of our night, yes?”

Shane licks Ilya’s cheek in agreement, paying special attention to Ilya’s prominent mole, almost like he thinks it’s a treat for him to collect with his scratchy tongue. Ilya shuts his eyes momentarily at all the attention, taking pride in the way his kitten is grooming him in the middle of his club for all to see.

The truth is, Ilya was incredibly turned on by the idea of demoing Shane in front of all of his patrons—Wyatt and Bood, included. He yearned to show off just how docile and eager Shane was for him. Ilya was a proud owner with the cat-of-all-time, prize-winning kitty, and he wanted everyone in the whole fucking world to know it, but for now, the open-minded group of members that belonged to this club would have to do.

Ilya slides his hand off of Shane’s abdomen and into his pocket instead, pressing intentionally into the paw-shaped clicker that’s been secretly residing there this whole time.

Click, click.

Shane jolts up in awareness, eyes wide as he frantically looks around for the source of the sound.

Ilya chuckles and pulls him into another wet kiss. “I liked when you were cleaning me, kitty. Claiming your owner in front of everyone. Making sure I look good for all my guests. How sweet,” he coos, laughing again when Shane nearly tackles him against the couch to start licking at him some more. “There’s my silly baby. Maybe that is what I need to do for some of these new things we haven’t tried before. Bring out your clicker training and your other toys, hm? My angel is very motivated by rewards, yes? Loves getting treats for good behavior.”

Ilya felt like he learned something new about Shane with every single dedicated scene they did together. His kitty was complex, and their dynamic was a labor of love—Ilya only got out of it as much as he put in. He’s learned some pivotal lessons tonight, for one, and he’s thankful he had the forethought to bring Shane’s clicker this evening; it seemed like a good way to combine everything Shane already knew, and loved, with some of the lesser explored kinks they may dive into at this event.

“Good boy,” Ilya comments warmly as Shane continues to groom him. “Are you ready to play with some wax now? If you’re good for me the whole time, then you can have the chilled plug when we are done, okay? But you have to earn enough clicks.”

Ilya gives him another click, click just to make sure Shane understands, but his kitty is obviously very smart—smart and motivated—if the way he immediately sits up in attention is anything to go off of.

“Alright, up for me,” Ilya requests, tapping Shane’s hip once to get him to stand.

His shirt is still halfway undone, and Ilya is thinking of removing it completely for their next exploration, eager to mark up Shane’s pretty chest. For wax, it was important to go for an area of the body that didn’t have too much hair, and luckily for Ilya, Shane was pretty naturally hairless on his chest—which was, admittedly, quite unusual for a kitten. He grips Shane’s pretty kitty paw and presses his lips to Shane’s fingers as he stands.

“Hey,” Ilya gently interrupts Harris to get the other pairing’s attention. “We are heading over to fire side. Do you want to join us or would you rather stay here?”

“Uh,” Harris replies, glancing down at the way Troy is practically fused to his side as the ice travels over his skin. “I think we might stay here for a bit.” Harris smiles.

“Sounds good. You two have fun. We will be right over there if you need anything.” Ilya points to the other side of the room before turning to address Grey and Brooks, but the two of them seem caught up in a heated discussion, so Ilya leaves them be in favor of leading Shane to the fire section.

On the way over, Shane meows repeatedly like he’s starved and desperate for attention.

“You are being very vocal for me, kitty,” Ilya notes in interest, watching Shane curiously to make sure it’s not for any reason he might find alarming. “Remember, the wax is not going to be painful. I need you to trust your Alpha and use your colors if you feel like you need them. You’re never going to get in trouble for using your colors. Understand?”

Shane turns abruptly to hug him around the neck and start licking his face again, so Ilya gives him another click, click just to reward the sweet behavior. It seems to have the desired effect when another rumble tears through Shane, the adorable kitten rubbing his cheeks all over Ilya’s skin.

Ilya guides him the rest of the way with two hands on Shane’s hips, maneuvering the other until they reach the fire side of the room. It’s instantly warmer, with tiki torches lighting the area and plenty of hot stones set out for massage purposes. Everything is crafted according to the theme—warm-toned lighting, red/orange décor, body oils lining the edges of the section, warming lube set aside for in-playroom use, and hot, scented towels to help sell the experience.

As soon as Ilya gets Shane to one of the pillow-laden sections on the floor, he starts to help the other out of his shirt, figuring a heated massage will help Shane greatly as a warm-up for this next activity.

-

Shane mewls curiously, his body lax in his Alpha’s grip as Ilya maneuvers his arms out of the powder-blue shirt he’s adorning. He has very little idea of what’s going on other than the fact that he has to be good right now. I am being good, he realizes distantly, because Ilya keeps telling him as much.

“Good boy. So pretty for me. I’m so lucky,” Ilya keeps murmuring against his ear, and Shane keeps trying to push and rub up against him, which is making Ilya laugh, and sending vibrations all through Shane’s body.

Ilya is purring, he thinks to himself. What a silly thing for an owner to do. Maybe he learned it from Shane, but either way, Shane knows he’s keeping his Alpha happy right now. He feels incredibly warm in this area. It’s making his cat senses tingle.

“Want your Alpha to give you a kitten massage, baby?” Ilya asks while running his hands all over the back of Shane’s bare shoulders.

Shane moans and shuts his eyes because it feels good, and before he knows it, there’s warm oil being pressed into his skin by Ilya’s talented fingers. He purrs loudly to let the other know he likes that while sinking further into his grip.

“You love coming apart under my hands, yes?” Ilya smiles against the back of his neck. “Just purr-fect for me in every way.”

Shane giggles, squirming wildly when Ilya starts digging his fingers into Shane’s sides, tickling to get a reaction out of him.

Click, click. “Good boy.”

Shane melts a little further.

“Keep your eyes closed for me, gorgeous. I like how much you are trusting your Alpha to take care of you right now. I want you very, very relaxed for me. Just like that, sweetheart.”

Shane gasps when there’s suddenly something very warm and hard being pressed into the curve of his shoulder, almost like Ilya is trying to work all the knots out of him with a hot stone. It’s better than any massage he’s ever gotten from a physical therapist because Ilya’s hands feel like they were made to connect with Shane’s skin. He’s playing his body like a well-mastered instrument, targeting areas that he must know Shane’s taken a beating to once or twice over the past two weeks.

“Right there, принцесса?” Ilya double-checks, while circling the stone against the center of Shane’s spine.

Shane sags closer to the source of heat, his body craving it even if his mind is pleasantly slushy and blank.

“I love taking care of you like this,” Ilya whispers into the crevice of his neck, sending shivers across Shane’s contrarily warm skin.

It feels good to be shirtless right now—Ilya’s warm hands on him, a chill in the air still making Shane’s nipples stand up as well as the hair on his arms. He feels well-taken care of, and cherished, and looked after. He wraps one of his paws around Ilya’s wrist when the hot stone starts making its way across Shane’s pecs this time.

“My baby loves to be touched,” Ilya sighs contentedly. “It kills me to think you went so many years without someone to take you apart in this way. Pressing kisses and love all over your beautiful skin—”

Shane bristles at the choice of wording.

“Your fur coat,” Ilya corrects in an instant. “Your beautiful, beautiful fur coat. My kitten grooms himself so wonderfully. I have never seen a better coat than this one.”

Shane’s cheeks pinken at how good it feels to be talked to.

“You are mine forever, yes? Everyone will know it soon enough. Soon, you will have your ring, and your expensive diamond collar, and the name Rozanov on your jersey.”

Shane wiggles excitedly, tipping his head back to make desperate eyes at Ilya because he’s growing impatient. He needs more. He needs Ilya to take him apart in every way possible.

“You wanna try the wax now, baby?” Ilya asks, scratching his fingers through Shane’s dark, silky hair.

Shane arches into the gesture on instinct, batting his pretty eyelashes up at his owner in hopes of luring him closer. Shane presses his blue claws into Ilya’s skin intentionally.

“Oh, I see. You are just desperate for my attention, hm?” Ilya shakes his head fondly, ducking down to press a kiss to Shane’s wet kitten nose. “Cutest kitten in the world, and yet, all I want is to do filthy, filthy things to you.”

Fire burns in the heat of Shane’s belly, excitement building within him at the thought of what he’s going to get later. Every time they tried something new, Ilya was so, so sweet with him when it came time for aftercare. In this moment, Shane couldn’t care less what they tried. As long as he had Ilya’s full focus, he was going to be a very happy kitty.

“Do you trust me lots and lots, baby? I want you to focus entirely on me. Are you okay if I put this heated blindfold on you to help you stay relaxed?”

All Shane hears is warm, warm, warm. Warm like Ilya’s arms around him. Warm like the cadence of Ilya’s voice as he spoke. Warm like the beating heart inside Ilya’s chest that was Shane’s ideal version of home. He presses his claws once more into Ilya’s arm to signal that he’s green.

Click, click.

“Good boy.”

And Shane purrs. He feels insanely looked after and attended to right now. The entire room around him ceases to exist as Ilya suddenly shrouds his vision in darkness. But the blindfold is heated, just like Ilya promised him, and there’s a pleasant scent that smells like toasted marshmallows and chamomile. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way that Ilya is kneading his chest, though, the other’s lips pressing tickling kisses against his ear. Shane burrows further against him and welcomes the fingers that link succinctly with his.

“So well-behaved for me. Such good manners. I would be happy to show off my good kitty if this is how you are going to act in front of the boys. If you can stay very calm and tuned into everything I tell you. You are doing so good with your blindfold, baby. Just focus on me. Keep focusing on me.”

Shane’s comforted by the pulse of Ilya’s voice against his back, his Alpha shifting slightly beneath him while he handles everything so Shane can drift away into kitty wonderland. Ilya continues kneading at his skin, and Shane finds himself focusing extra hard on the sensation, especially since his vision is no longer a factor. He has no choice but to feel everything Ilya is doing to him.

“Take a deep breath in for me, please. I tested the temperature so it is not too hot, but I need you to tell me if something is wrong, okay? Hold your kitty claws in my arm if you need help or if you want me to stop.”

Shane mewls in acknowledgement even though he’s only half aware of what’s going on, but before he can try and force his brain to put the puzzle pieces together, there’s a sharp stinging sensation right above his nipple.

Shane gasps and squirms from where Ilya’s got a strong arm wrapped around him, but it feels good more than it hurts. The skin surrounding the area the wax has just landed on is cool in comparison, and Shane has goose bumps lighting up across his skin.

“Very good,” Ilya slurs into his ear, and is Shane imagining things, or is Ilya suddenly very far away from him?

He’s in that floaty place, but he jerks at the sound of the familiar click, click.

“Oh, you’re doing so well for me. See? That’s not so bad, is it?”

Shane’s erect in his jeans; no, that was not so bad at all. He sucks in a breath when Ilya’s nails scrape over the hardened wax, his lips still brushing Shane’s ear, breathing heavily against it. Shane’s skin feels stiff from where the wax is pulling at his skin from both ends.

And then, before he knows it, Ilya is peeling the wax off of him, and Shane whimpers in surprise. The physical sensation is nice, but it’s Ilya that’s sending him over the edge more than anything. Ilya’s control over him. The surrender of Ilya taking charge of his senses—removing Shane’s sight; applying heat and then taking it away. They’re doing all of this out of trust, and for Shane, that’s the part that’s driving his pleasure the most. Trying something new, but always at Ilya’s hand. They were in this together.

Click, click.

“Good, good boy. I can’t believe how wonderful you’re being right now, sweetness. I am so, so impressed with you. I’m gonna have to take extra good care of you later.”

Shane goes wild with the affection, and if he had his tail in, it’d be wagging right now. Even more so, probably, when Ilya cups his cock through his jeans.

“Ah,” Shane moans, hissing when another drop of wax lands on his abdomen this time. It stings more than the initial one did, but the warmth soothes any lingering pain as the floaty feeling continues to wash over him.

Meow, meow, meow, he thinks because words don’t exist.

Another drop of wax.

Meow.

Ilya peeling both off at once.

Meoow.

Ilya massaging his dick until Shane can’t tell whether he’s pissed himself or there’s just a massive wet spot forming at the front of his boxers.

Meoooooow. Meow, meow, meoooow.

“You’re fucking killing me right now,” Ilya growls into his ear. “Can’t even remember your own name, can you? God, you’re so far down. Fuck. You’re so hot when you’re like this. You make me want to take away all your senses so I can control every part of you. You would not see, you would not hear, you would not move. You’d just be a silly object for my amusement. I’m pretty sure that was on your list, no? Along with human furniture?”

Shane twists in his arms as something white-hot burns through him. He knows his cheeks are bright red, can feel something like adrenaline or panic building within him, but Ilya’s hands are soothing over him in a second, rubbing down his arms before settling firmly over his wildly beating heart.

“You are okay, котёнок. You are right with me,” Ilya reminds him.

Shane nuzzles anywhere he can reach, rubbing his face over what he assumes to be Ilya’s beefy bicep. Shit. Shane can’t resist going in for a taste, whining when he catches a scent of something familiar nearby. He turns swiftly in Ilya’s arms and uses his impeccable kitten nose to sniff out…

Ilya’s deodorant.

Mm. Shane knew that smell. Shane had woken up to remnants of that smell plenty of times, his face wedged in the crack of Ilya’s armpit. In the mornings, that smell was often closer to pure musk, but Shane didn’t care. He liked it. He had a partner, and that partner was a man, and Shane found that man to be devastatingly attractive—pheromones, ball sweat, and all.

He’s acting on pure instinct as he worms his way under Ilya’s arm, sniffing, and exploring, and soaking in the heat. He still can’t see anything, so his sense of smell is stronger. In fact, everything feels more intense. He licks at Ilya’s armpit hair to see how it tastes.

“Fuck,” Ilya mutters against him, his hand resting somewhere on Shane’s back.

Shane hums in loose awareness and licks him again, purring when it earns him another noise from his owner.

Click, click.

“Good boy.”

Fuck. Shane licks at him more incessantly. He pretends that with every swipe of his tongue, Ilya is smelling more like his and he’s smelling more like Ilya’s. Not only that, but he’s claiming his owner in front of this entire club. He was nervous about Troy and Harris before, but now, he wants them to see. He wants the rest of the team here as witnesses. He wants to perform tricks for them in the locker room and have everyone comment on how he’s such a good boy. Ilya’s good boy.

“That feels good, baby,” Ilya says breathlessly. “Mm, my perfect kitty. You are spoiling me this evening with all the good behavior.”

Shane mewls happily at the indication that he’s been good. Ilya was definitely going to let him present for the pet play demo. He was more kitten than anyone here. It would be a fucking crime to show anything other than the best. A disservice to pet play, and a disservice to this club. Plus, Shane wanted more pet friends. To him, this demo was more like a recruitment, and Shane was going to convince all the subs that being a pet was fucking awesome.

Ilya stretches his arm over his head, and Shane follows him, continuing to clean and nose at his owner’s armpit. He feels feral. He feels far, far away in kitty land. His vision may be gone, but his other senses are stronger, and Shane is pawsitively soaking in it.

Ilya, Ilya, Ilya.

-

Troy’s eyes go wide at the sight in front of him.

Wow.

He’s seen Shane be a kitten plenty of times, but not like this. Watching Shane when he was cuddly or demanding pets was one thing, but it’s a whole other thing to see him shirtless and licking Ilya like an actual cat grooming their human.

Something weird swirls in Troy’s belly.

Shane’s into it. So much so that Troy has to wonder what Ilya tastes like. Does he taste like cotton candy explosion? He must, with the way Shane’s going to town on him.

Ilya’s eyes are half closed, like he’s just soaking it in, and upon further inspection, Troy realizes Shane is wearing some sort of padded eye mask. It’s a blindfold, probably. Duh. Troy feels out of his depth.

“More intense on this side, isn’t it?” Harris chuckles, and Troy instantly relaxes.

He smiles and takes Harris’ fingers in his when prompted. “We can always go back to ice. I thought we might hang with Shane some more, but…”

“Yeah,” Harris agrees. “I think they’re a little preoccupied.”

There’s an awkward pause between them. Troy tries to come up with something he can say to fill it, but Harris is tugging him down onto a couch before he can. Troy practically collapses on his lap.

“Sorry,” Troy grins bashfully, pushing himself off of Harris’ thighs.

“What are you apologizing for?” Harris shakes his head.

“Bruising your legs?” Troy offers at first thought because he wasn’t the most dainty. “I know I weigh a ton.”

“You’re ridiculous. You weigh nothing.” Harris tugs at him and pulls Troy back into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around the other’s waist until Troy is trapped against him.

“Hey,” Troy protests, but when he realizes that wiggling isn’t going to get him anywhere, he resorts to distracting Harris with a kiss.

Harris’ arms loosen almost immediately, so Troy takes advantage of the opportunity, slipping off of his lap and gripping both of Harris’ hands in his to keep the other from trying to capture him again.

“Very sneaky,” Harris mutters into his mouth.

“Puppy reflexes,” Troy teases, but he loses all his leverage when Harris yanks his hands free to dig his fingers into Troy’s sides. “Ah, stop it. Stop it,” he laughs wildly.

“I’m not the one pretending to be a puppy.”

“I’m not pretending,” Troy argues, his jaw dropping. “Shane thinks I’m a puppy!”

“You just like having your hair played with,” Harris snickers, carding his fingers through Troy’s hair.

Troy sighs and sinks into the touch. “That’s like…the number one rule of being a puppy.”

“And you have a kitty best friend,” Harris reminds him. And, wait. Wasn’t Harris just arguing that he wasn’t a puppy?

“Yeah…” Troy agrees because that was a pretty good point. He did have a kitty best friend. His eyes roam back to Shane.

Shane, who is gazing at Ilya adoringly now that his blindfold’s off. Ilya’s lips are moving, saying something to him while he grazes his thumb across Shane’s jawline. Shane’s eyelashes are fluttering like he’s fighting to stay awake. He keeps nuzzling his way into Ilya’s hand until the other is forced to pet him. And Shane purrs, visibly and audibly, in a way that Troy doesn’t even fully understand. He gets that odd feeling again when Shane’s tongue lolls out of his mouth, and Ilya practically swallows him in an open-mouthed kiss.

“You alright?” Harris is asking him softly, like maybe he understands where Troy’s head has gone. Had he been watching Ilya and Shane, too? Was he craving that feeling just as much as Troy was?

“Yup,” Troy nods, his voice coming out dry and raspy, and certainly not even, despite him only having said one syllable.

Harris is quiet beside him, so Troy doesn’t take his eyes off of Ilya and Shane. It feels good to witness something raw and real. It’s thrilling. And inspiring. And Harris seems to think so too if the statement he whispers in Troy’s ear is anything to go off of.

“Let’s see how we feel after Intro to BDSM night, okay?”

Troy shivers and nods in agreement.

-

Ilya is buzzing underneath his skin. There’s a livewire running through him, made active by Shane’s spiky tongue that keeps coming down on him repeatedly. Shane Hollander is pure feline right now, and Ilya is getting the grooming treatment of his life. He feels like a king.

Ilya could die happy with the way those hazy brown eyes are looking up at him, a desperation that reveals Shane’s all-consuming need to please. Ilya strokes his fingers through Shane’s hair and continues to watch him in adoration. Sometimes, Shane will get so lost in the task, so lost in the rhythm of his licks, that his eyes will slip fully shut, and Ilya has to gently redirect his gaze until he’s looking up again.

Because staring at each other has become a foreplay in and of itself, lately. Actually, anything Ilya and Shane did together felt sexually charged in some capacity, probably since they were fucking soulmates. Ilya’s eyes assess Shane in hungry appreciation. He can’t fucking believe this animal is all his.

He spills his guts to Shane in Russian—just in case anyone around them is listening in, and maybe also because he’d like to send his kitten that much further. Then, he catches Shane’s sloppy kitten tongue in a wet, messy kiss before hauling him to his feet. Shane’s legs are complete Jell-O beneath him.

“Like a lifeless little doll,” Ilya murmurs hotly in his ear, causing Shane to moan around a mrowl. “Hold onto my shoulders, baby. I’ll give you a piggyback to my playroom.”

Shane, as always, follows the instruction beautifully, and immediately bunny hops onto Ilya’s back when prompted.

Ilya blinks when he notices Troy and Harris fiddling with one of the hot stones next to them. “Oh. Hey, guys…” he trails, wondering how much of that they just saw. The fit of giggles they both break into tells him everything he needs to know. “Oh, whatever.” Ilya rolls his eyes. “Barrett, your boner is showing.”

Troy’s eyes go wide, his hand darting out to cover his groin, but he scoffs once he realizes Ilya’s just fucking with him.

Shane, however, is furious by the insinuation that Ilya was looking at Troy’s dick, and Ilya feels his wrath in the form of a punishing bite on his right shoulder.

“Fuck. Ouch, котёнок,” Ilya groans, shutting his eyes tightly, but it’s turning him on as much as anything else this evening. He pinches Shane’s thigh in reprimand, sighing when Shane soothes over the new marking with his tongue. “Stop being evil, jealous kitty if you still want your treat.”

A cute whimper, high in the back of Shane’s throat.

“You got what you deserve, Rozy,” Harris tuts, his arm slung around Troy while Troy clumsily rubs a hot stone over Harris’ hand.

Shane hisses at the rude comment against his owner, and Ilya smirks at his kitten’s loyalty. He sticks his tongue out at Harris before swiftly carrying Shane in the direction of his playroom. He only winds up having to pause twice to grab a few supplies from the fire and ice stations, a brief detour on their otherwise short journey.

Shane is darting all around as soon as Ilya gets him on the bed.

Ilya smiles and shakes his head affectionately, pulling his tank top off to toss it over his shoulder. His eyes darken when Shane tracks the movement.

“Kittens don’t wear clothes, baby,” Ilya says lowly, watching in satisfaction as Shane scrambles to remove both his jeans and briefs at record-speed.

Because Ilya had that kind of power over Shane. Over Shane Hollander, to be exact—someone who would, one day, become the most decorated hockey player in history. And yet, here Shane was, splayed at Ilya’s mercy, presenting his ass in a big cat stretch, his ears slightly crooked from going to town on Ilya’s armpit earlier. Ilya liked his kitty cat obsessed and obedient, and Shane never missed the mark. He always over-delivered. Ilya runs his hand over each knob of vertebrae along the length of Shane’s spine, petting him in a claiming gesture that has Shane nearly jumping with every increment of touch.

Ilya’s can’t keep his expression under control. Shane’s just been everything and more for him this evening. He feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. Ilya sighs longingly when Shane’s hole winks at him, licking at the pad of his thumb before petting over his rim featherlight.

Shane whines, but Ilya just shushes him, biting at his left ass cheek until he goes quiet.

“Good boy,” Ilya mutters, fastening his lips to Shane’s hole while simultaneously uncapping the heated bottle of lube he swiped on the way over. There’s still a small metal bucket full of ice-themed supplies on the dresser, but Ilya is more concerned with getting Shane warmed up first.

He licks at Shane’s rim a few times before pressing two lubed-up fingertips against it, smearing the warmth all over Shane’s puckered muscle.

Shane cries out in a way that makes Ilya’s adrenaline spike, his heart working overtime to pump blood into all avenues of his brain. He’s short-circuiting a bit with the way Shane is coming apart under his touch.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” Ilya hums in amusement as Shane drops his blissed-out head down on the comforter beneath him. “Your Alpha taking you apart until you’re nice and hazy? So easy for me, aren’t you, angel? Can you even think right now?”

Shane meows pathetically.

“Aw, that’s okay. I don’t need to understand you. Your body is telling me everything I need to know.” He laughs when Shane pushes his ass back further to try and get Ilya’s fingers inside of him. “Needy baby. You do not even know what you are asking for. You need your Alpha to do all the thinking for you, hm? Just a kitten in heat.”

Ilya rewards his desperation by slowly pressing one finger inside of him, cursing to himself at the sight of Shane’s hole stretching to accommodate. It’s too dark in the room to appreciate him properly, so Ilya blankets himself over Shane in order to reach for the switch to the jellyfish light. It immediately washes the room in a mix of blues and purples, the shadows cascading against Shane’s skin like a waterfall of color. Ilya kisses him achingly tender behind the ear.

“I love you, sweet boy. Right with me,” he whispers, just to make sure Shane is still down on Earth with him and not getting too caught up in the language.

He works himself up to two fingers, and then three, hyper-aware of the fact that the coldness of the chilled metal plug will make Shane’s muscles clench tighter in resistance. The warming lube is doing its job well, the heat inside Shane feeling fucking godly around his fingers, and Ilya makes a mental note to warm Shane back up before fucking into him, so his dick can feel this insatiable level of heat, too.

Shane keels in the back of his throat when Ilya takes his fingers away, but Ilya ignores him in favor of testing the temperature of the plug as he plucks it out of the mostly melted bucket of ice. His Domspace is front and present, and as much as he wants to attend to Shane’s ringing, distressed pleas, making sure the plug is at a safe level of coolness is far more important right now. He rolls the plug over the inside of his arm until he’s satisfied with how it feels against his skin. Then, he coats it with the same heated lube, his heart thrumming at the thought of what the mixed sensations might feel like for Shane once the plug is nestled up inside of him.

Ilya presses a kiss to Shane’s waiting, fluttering hole—his lips tingling with the aftermath of the lube—before pressing the cool end of the plug against Shane’s rim.

Shane is obviously far gone, as told by the fact that he doesn’t seem to know a single human word, instead expressing himself in a series of high-pitched whimpers and meows that Ilya is eating right up.

-

Ah, Shane thinks to himself at the bite of the chilled plug against his warmed-up hole. There’s an immediate sting to it, a jerk that has his entire body seizing up in shock, forcing him to automatically tighten around the intrusion.

But Ilya’s hand is there to soothe him before he can stiffen up too much, the warm touch allowing Shane to instantly relax back into his cat stretch. He’s presenting for his owner, an idea he’d come up with earlier while trying to brainstorm tricks that might be impressive to demo at the upcoming event. Ilya had to agree that Shane would be the best pet for the job. Shane’s heart would simply crack in two if that wasn’t the case, but he’s determined to prove himself up until that point of deliberation.

Shane fights off a full-body shiver as the plug settles further inside of him, sending a cooling feeling through the entirety of his groin and pelvic area. He moans while collapsing face-first into the bed, sniffling when Ilya jumps in to make sure he has a pillow to rest his cheek upon. Shane mouths at the silky fabric to try and stay calm.

Fuck, his mind screams, while he wails into the pillow beneath him because the cold is burning now, confusing his body as tears spring to his eyes. He’s beyond overwhelmed, but Ilya’s grounding hands are still on him; Ilya’s affirming words are still lingering in the air. He babbles something that comes out unintelligibly, but Ilya speaks his language, and there’s a hand petting his hair within seconds. Shane tries to make out the muffled words. He feels like he’s underwater. He feels like he’s sinking further.

It’s like that place he goes sometimes when he’s in between being awake and asleep. His mind is still there—active, in a way—but he feels like he can’t move, like he’s not the one in charge of what happens to his body right now. His brain is technically connected to his arms and legs, but Shane highly doubts he could get any one of his limbs to move.

Ilya, on the other hand…Ilya could make Shane do whatever he wanted. He demonstrates this by nudging Shane’s legs further apart until he’s practically on his belly, like a desperate kitten presenting his needy hole to his big Alpha owner. He wants Ilya bad.

That thought is torn away by the sensation of his hole throbbing around the plug, all his awareness and the blood in his body rushing to one spot in an attempt to warm the tissue. Shane cries, mostly because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s experiencing things that his brain can’t make sense of, and his body is sensitive to the touch. He practically screams when he feels something brush against his cock.

Shane forces himself slightly onto his elbows so he can look back at Ilya between his legs, and the sight of Ilya brushing one of Shane’s kitty feather toys over his balls is enough to make Shane nearly lose it right then and there.

“No, baby,” Ilya says sternly, wrapping a firm hand around the base of his cock. “No coming just yet. I want to play with you a bit longer. I don’t get to tease you enough.”

More tears come out of Shane’s eyes, but he can barely stay with that thought for long because his attention is quickly pulled in a hundred different directions. The throbbing heat in his asshole. The drag of the feather toy across the head of his cock. Circling his slit. Grazing along his length.

Shane’s cock twitches in Ilya’s grip, and Shane allows himself to sob fully into the pillow, his face pinched up in distress despite how much his body is fucking begging for it. Please, Shane thinks. Please, please, please, please.

His ass is numb around the plug now; consider phase whatever number of Ilya’s ‘Ruin Shane for Anyone Else’Plan: complete. He’s molten lava on the bed. He’s liquid honey at his core. There’s a melting sensation pulling all his attention inward; it’s upended in a split second when Ilya drags the feather toy across his perineum.

“So jumpy today, мой маленький жучок. You look sinful under these lights. This is demo kitty behavior, indeed.”

Shane can’t help the way excitement builds up within him at the encouragement, his kitten tongue darting out to lick across the fabric of the pillow because he has no other way to express himself right now.

“Good boy. Fuck, you’re incredible. You have no idea what you do to me, Моё великолепное животное. С тобой я — мужчина, у ног которого лежит весь мир.”

Shane purrs loudly, his body vibrating with it while his owner talks hot, loving Russian to him. God, Shane wants to lick Ilya from head to toe. He wants to claim every part of his body, wrap his tail around one of Ilya’s big arms until they’re tethered together for life.

Was Ilya ever going to get him a leash? Maybe Shane’s collar was too fragile. It was Ilya’s last tie to his mother, after all. And yet, still, he’d given it to Shane, no question. Ilya would give Shane anything he asked for. That visual is enough to steal any other rational thought from his brain.

-

Ilya feels like he’s losing his mind as he watches Shane make biscuits against the pillow. He’s letting out these delicious little mewls that probably mean next to nothing with how far down he is right now. He’s a full-on cat. Tonight, he’ll probably dream of fishies and yarn, but before that, Ilya is going to fuck him into another dimension.

He squeezes Shane’s hip in warning before pulling the plug from his swollen hole. Ilya ducks to soothe the puckered rim with his tongue, moaning against Shane as the other continues to cry out.

“That’s it,” Ilya whispers, pressing a row of biting kisses across Shane’s tiger stripe stretch marks. “My perfect kitten. My baby prince. You could never do anything wrong. I want to worship you every day for the rest of my life.”

Shane can’t understand a word of it right now, but that’s okay because Ilya will tell him again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next day, and the next day, until Shane’s ears no longer work and the cells that make up the majority of each of their beings cease to exist.

“I’d tell everyone if I could,” Ilya continues indulgently. “I’d wear your love like a badge of honor. I’d wear your primal kitty marks on me without shame,” Ilya sighs, letting every ounce of stress drain out of him as he positively pours himself into caring for the golden creature laid out before him. “I’d dedicate every blank spot on my skin to ink that reminds me of you.”

Ilya presses one warming-lube-coated finger inside of him, relishing in the way Shane’s hips jolt closer on instinct, like he’s thinking with his needy cock that Ilya still has a withholding grip around.

Ilya gives him one firm stroke before squeezing him tightly again. Shane whines as another sob wracks through him.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re doing so well for me. Oh, my very good boy. I know you can hold on a little longer. You’re so good at listening to your Alpha, aren’t you? Are you gonna prove to me you can handle yourself in front of all those people? In front of Bood and Wyatt and Cassie and Lisa? Troy and Harris will be there too, won’t they? Are you going to be on your best behavior in front of your puppy friend? It’s your first time performing tricks in public, angel. I can’t have you embarrassing me.”

There’s a shuddering gasp that has Ilya pausing carefully in worry, his Domspace making him hyper-aware of any changes in Shane’s breathing beneath him.

“Just talking to you, baby,” Ilya reminds him, whispering close to Shane’s ear this time. “Everything’s okay. You alright?”

He exhales in relief when Shane nods in agreement, sniffling and wiping his nose like he’s trying to get a handle on himself.

“You are good to stay down, gorgeous. I’ve got you. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

A pause, and then another nod.

Ilya makes a click, click sound with his tongue to simulate the noise from the paw clicker. “Very good. Thank you for communicating with me. You’ve been on your best behavior all night. I am so, so proud of you, мой очень хороший котёнок.” He leans in close to add, “And I was lying before. You could never, ever embarrass me. You are the best kitten in the entire world.”

Ilya’s skin is practically on fire with the way Shane starts purring against him, like he’s back in his happy place with that one reassurance after a tiny, temporary moment of doubt. But he’s panting again the moment Ilya presses a second finger inside of him.

“Mm, you stretch beautifully for me. Take my big fingers so well, don’t you? So tight no matter how many times I fuck you. This is the only dick you’ve ever taken, isn’t it, baby? Only dick you’re ever going to take.”

Ilya moans at that thought. He’d been Shane’s first sexual experience with a man. He’d have that claim over him for the rest of his life; Shane’s first and last. Ilya ducks to work his tongue between his scissored fingers, his lips warm from the heated lube as he presses hot, sticky kisses all over the backs of Shane’s thighs.

God, Ilya could fucking devour him. Shane was everything when he was down like this—an obedient little mutt acting entirely on instinct, and his instinct, more often than not, was to please and obey Ilya. In those moments, when Shane’s brain gave up on human thinking entirely, Ilya could fully take charge. He could redirect Shane with something as simple as a word, or a gesture, or a click. Because Shane was that tuned into him—a pet who was eager to please his devout owner.

Ilya presses down on the back of Shane’s neck, having let go of his grip around the other’s cock in favor of the metal chain of Shane’s collar biting into the palm of his hand. Fuck. Shane wore his pendant like a branding for all to see, and Ilya was only mildly offended that the rest of the world hadn’t figured it out yet. Figured out that Shane belonged to him—body and mind. Ilya was his sole provider. Ilya paid his bills, bought him fancy clothes and kitten toys; Ilya was even paying for this ridiculous, extravagant wedding that actually wasn’t ridiculous at all because Shane wanted it, and whatever Shane wanted, Ilya would get for him. There was nothing more important in this life than keeping Shane happy. His Golden Superstar Sunshine Boy who wasn’t really a boy at all. His Shane was pure, primal kitten.

Right now, though, he’s a kitten in heat, and Ilya can’t blame him for the way he’s twitching at each tiny touch because Ilya’s pushed him to his limits tonight. Denied him longer than usual. Typically, Ilya couldn’t resist making him cum sometimes two or three times, but there’s a magic to seeing him like this, too. Like the smallest brush against his swollen balls could have him shooting off in a mess all over the bed beneath him. Ilya might make him roll around in it after until his fur coat is dirty and soiled. Ilya might get himself off three times tonight just so he can cover Shane in as many loads as possible. The thought of Shane smiling, hazy-eyed with cum all over his innocent freckled face is enough to have arousal pooling ridiculously in Ilya’s gut.

Ilya drags his fingers out of Shane’s hole and grabs him roughly by the hip to press the head of his cock against Shane’s entrance.

Shane meows a few times in a row, like his brain can’t make sense of anything other than the fact that he needs to express himself. He’s doing a great job. Meowing like the animal he is. Ilya wants to fucking ruin him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Use your kitten words for me,” Ilya murmurs delusionally because his head is like a siren alarm, alerting him of a million different things at once. Shane’s twitching hole. The fact that he’s sinking lower and lower onto the bed. Ilya readjusts Shane’s thigh into a better position to ensure he won’t be too sore tomorrow. Shane makes an inquisitive sound, but Ilya just shushes him into obedience. “I am doing all the thinking. Don’t worry your pretty, little head about anything. It is my job to take care of you. My precious pet. You belong on your knees for me.”

Shane’s panting and drooling all over the pillow, so Ilya leans over him to give him something to suck on, pressing two fingers past Shane’s sinful lips. Shane sucks on them dutifully when prompted, mewling like he’s got nothing going on in his brain other than sweet kitten daydreams of scampering mice and swishing tuna fish.

“I will have to bring your tail harness next time, so you can still wear it while I fuck you.”

Shane seems to like the idea of that, given the way he wiggles his hips. If he had it right now, Ilya is sure Shane’s tail would be wagging like crazy because his kitten was nothing if not the happiest pet in the world. He should be, considering his owner was insanely obsessed with him and liked to spoil him rotten.

Ilya takes that opportunity to start pressing inside of him, grunting at the feeling of Shane’s tight heat all around him. Ilya couldn’t say for sure, but he was almost entirely positive that Shane did some sort of anal exercises to ensure his hole stayed nice and snug for Ilya’s pleasure. The thought of Shane conditioning himself to serve his owner even better sends zings of arousal through Ilya’s core, and with his tunnel vision, all he can see are Shane’s kitten ears stamped on the back of his neck.

Holy shit. Ilya grips Shane’s collar just to watch the way their tattoos line up with one another, and suddenly, he’s struck with a large lump of emotion in his throat that he can’t quite swallow away. How the fuck did he get here? Pushing his big cock into Shane Hollander’s perfect ass. Is this some kind of fever dream? Did he really die in that plane crash and go to heaven? In what world did Ilya Rozanov deserve Shane Hollander in any capacity? And in what world was Shane Hollander the most perfect sub for him? In what universe did Ilya’s ten-year plan to lure Hollander into his very capable arms actually work?

But no, Ilya’s brain wasn’t brilliant enough to concoct kitten Shane. If he had been granted a wish by a genie all those years ago, he could have never come up with something this fulfilling. Shane’s moaning while drooling all over Ilya’s fingers as Ilya sinks into him fully. He plasters himself against Shane’s back to hug him tightly around the waist while his hips jerk forward.

He’s practically humping Shane like this. Like a wolf with a big Alpha knot. If he and Shane were truly animals, Ilya doesn’t think he’d ever get off of him. He’d snarl at anyone who dared come close to his and Shane’s nest. He’d go off to hunt for them and bring back big pieces of game for his kitten to nibble daintily at, and then Ilya would lick him clean in big, slobbery strokes of his canine tongue. He’d bite Shane hard and carry him around by the scruff of his neck, growling at anyone who dared to approach them. And during the winter, he’d let Shane burrow into his warm fur, keeping his kitty safe and sound from the cold, piercing wind. Ilya would freeze to death if it meant protecting this creature who had quickly become the light of his life.

“Just like that, baby. Making me feel so good. Oh god, your little kitten noises drive me insane. Is that what you needed? Needed your Alpha’s big cock to shut your brain up? Chase all those useless thoughts away?” Ilya groans as he pushes his fingers through the back of Shane’s hair, holding him down against the bed until the dip in Shane’s spine creates the perfect arch for him to drive into. “I am going to need to record you like this one day, so you can see what I do to you. No one else could ever get you like this. No one can talk you down like I can. No one knows what you need more than I do. You’re made perfect for me. You’re— fuck.”

Ilya’s brain short-circuits when, all of a sudden, Shane whines, squeezes tightly around him, and starts shooting off onto the bed beneath them. At first, it seems like a lot of cum—more than usual, and definitely a lot even for a hands-free orgasm—but after a few more moments of it continuing, he realizes what’s really happening. Shane’s pissing himself. Ilya had fucked him that good.

“Holy shit,” Ilya gasps out, his vision going white while his fingers stamp bruises into Shane’s hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ilya growls, sucking in large gulps of air while he jack-rabbits relentlessly into the unfathomable creature that belongs entirely at his mercy. He comes harder than he’s ever come in his life—so hard, in fact, that his thighs are shaking while he gets in his last couple of strokes, his balls draining every last drop of seed into Shane’s non-existent womb.

As a top, there was nothing hotter in the world than seeing a bottom involuntarily piss themselves. It wasn’t unheard of. The prostate gland and the bladder both sat very close to the rectum, and with the way Ilya had been fucking into him, it’s no surprise that all of Shane’s muscles had been incredibly relaxed, giving his brain an easy excuse to ignore any urinary signals.

But with his kitten, of course, nothing ever comes easy, so Ilya’s expecting it when panic immediately starts to rise within him.

-

Shane lets out a frightened sob. He’s wet, he notices. Wetter than usual. Wet enough to suggest that the damp spot on the comforter beneath him has stemmed from more than just orgasm.

“Baby, you’re okay,” Ilya is telling him in an instant, but Shane’s fight-or-flight response has kicked in, and all he wants to do is run. Ilya catches him with strong arms around the waist before he can do so. “Hey. None of that. Stay right here.”

Shane sniffles and shakes his head, rubbing furiously at his eyes while he tries to scramble out of Ilya’s grasp. He’s embarrassed. He’s just pissed all over Ilya’s nice, new playroom bed, and fuck. He’s probably ruined his new shark stuffed animal from the aquarium, and…and…

“Kitten, please. Relax for me. You are completely perfect. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Shane cries fully at that because who the fuck was Ilya kidding? Even cats didn’t piss all over the bed like this. They went in litter boxes, sure, but never on the bed. Never all over the nice things their owner had bought for them. Ilya was going to scold him. Ilya was going to call him a bad kitty. Ilya was going to put him up for adoption and take away his collar and find someone newer, and better. A pet that was potty-trained this time. And probably a dog, too, because Shane knew for a fact that Ilya liked dogs more than cats. He’d accidentally stumbled into this situation with Shane, but if he had his pick, he’d choose a dog ten times out of ten. Shane feels his entire life, everything he’s come to know, flash right before his eyes.

He yelps out in confusion when Ilya grips him by the scruff of his neck and hauls him off the bed. This is it, Shane thinks to himself. He’s finally done something fucked up enough to warrant Ilya getting rid of him completely. He’s been waiting for this moment, the moment where he’s gone too far, pushed Ilya to his absolute limit this time. Would Ilya really kick him to the curb like this? Right now? In the middle of an event? Would he drop him naked on the side of the road like a discarded stray?

But the bite of the chilly outside air never comes. Instead, Shane finds himself on a fluffy rug in front of a sea-glass blue bath. Something triggers a rush of water to start flowing from the faucet, and before Shane knows it, Ilya’s warm body is all around him. Shane shivers at the realization of how cold the air is on his naked skin, ducking closer to try and absorb some of Ilya’s never-ending heat.

“That’s it. Right with me. Listen to my heartbeat. There you go.”

Ilya’s hand is a welcome comfort on his back, petting down Shane’s spine in measured strokes as Shane drops his head against Ilya’s chest.

“Good job, baby,” Ilya coos softly, and for just a minute, Shane completely forgets about pissing all over the bed. He’s too caught up in the timbre of Ilya’s voice lulling him into a false sense of security. He’s too caught up in the way Ilya’s fingers are scratching at his scalp just right. Shane purrs contentedly, rubbing his cheek across the crook of Ilya’s neck. “There’s my sweet boy. Oh, you were perfect for me. Just focus on my voice, please. Let me take care of you.”

Shane shuts his eyes because it feels too good to be praised right now. He’s exhausted, and emotionally vulnerable, and sore in places he usually isn’t. His mind is so fuzzy. He can’t remember where he is or how he got here; all he knows is that Ilya is here with him, so he must be safe.

“Mm, you are so relaxed for me,” Ilya says, the end of his sentence going up an octave like he’s talking to a tiny baby kitten.

Shane smiles nonsensically. He’s none the wiser. He’s just chasing what feels good.

Shane mewls when, eventually, Ilya starts to shift beneath him. He frowns, digging his claws into Ilya’s shoulders like he can somehow convince him to stay. Wait, he wants to beg. Don’t leave me. But Ilya is just turning off the water to the bathtub. Shane blinks owlishly up at him while waiting to see what happens next.

Ilya smiles fondly at him, and then bends down to collect Shane in his arms. Shane clambers into his grasp, wrapping around him like a desperate koala until all his limbs are secured and accounted for. Ilya kisses each of his cheeks, then his nose, then his lips. Shane wrinkles his face in confusion, leaning forward to swipe his tongue over Ilya’s mouth as he tries to replicate the notion.

Ilya just laughs like he finds Shane to be hilarious, so Shane playfully sticks his tongue out in hopes of convincing Ilya to keep him for a little bit longer.

He cries out, clinging onto his owner desperately when Ilya walks over to the water. He doesn’t want to be wet right now. It’s reminding him of the bed he just came from, the one that’s still covered in cum and piss because Shane had been a bad kitty who couldn’t hold it. His eyes well up with tears once more at the recollection.

“Shane, baby, listen to me,” Ilya requests, still holding onto him tightly just outside of the tub. “What happened out there was so fucking hot. It’s completely normal, and if anything, it only made me that much more attracted to you.”

Shane sniffles and buries his tears into Ilya’s shoulder.

“I fucked you so good that you lost control. That’s all, okay? If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine, not yours. You were so, so good for me. I asked you to prove that you were demo kitty material, and you did exactly that. We can talk about this more when you come up, but for now, I want to spend the next hour cleaning you, and petting you, and taking good care of my precious pet. Aftercare is for both of us, yes? I need it, too,” Ilya reminds him. “Don’t deny me our special time together, okay?”

Shane still feels like a failure of a kitty, like his behavior needs to be corrected, but he has no interest in getting himself into even more trouble, so he head-butts Ilya’s chest a few times in apology.

“Good boy. I’m going into the bath now. Water is nice and warm for you. It’s going to feel very relaxing. Ready? 1…2…3,” Ilya counts them down, and Shane holds his breath, expecting Ilya to do a cannonball and submerge them fully, but he blinks in surprise when, a few seconds later, he’s sat in Ilya’s lap in the tub. “Look at this, kitty,” Ilya murmurs, pulling something from a container perched at the edge of the tub.

Shane’s cat eyes turn to slits at the sight of the rubber fish toy.

Ilya squeezes it, and it squeaks, making Shane go crazy as he scrambles to capture it between his paws. He clumsily tries to chew on the tail, jumping in Ilya’s lap when it makes another startling noise, but Ilya just soothes over his hips with steadying hands.

He turns Shane in his lap, carefully unclipping Shane’s kitten ears while Shane is effectively distracted by the fish toy. Then, Ilya gives him the best head massage of all time, Shane purring wildly as he abandons the toy in favor of sinking into Ilya’s grasp.

He lets his eyes slip shut, focusing on the feeling of Ilya’s fingers shampooing suds into his hair. He moans and meows at the different sensations of Ilya giving him a full-body massage. Moans when Ilya’s fingers begin to clean the load of cum from his asshole; meows when those same fingers scratch through the fresh pubic hair coming in several inches below his belly button.

He giggles when Ilya presses a round of smacking kisses against his ticklish neck, wiggling like crazy at the way Ilya’s scratchy chin scrapes beard burn across his freckled shoulders, being extra careful to avoid Shane’s special paw print freckles.

There’s soft words exchanged mostly from Ilya’s lips to Shane’s ears, and Shane replies back with a few soft yips until his brain can make sense of human things again.

“I love you,” Ilya reminds him, hugging him tightly around the waist.

Shane purrs and burrows further against him, all thoughts of the soiled bed and being abandoned on the side of the road long forgotten.

Ilya wasn’t going anywhere. If he did, then Shane would just simply hunt him down until he was pawsitively ruined for anyone else. As far as Shane’s concerned, he already is. There was no one on Earth who could match either of their insane levels of crazy. It’s a comforting thought that follows him well into the rest of the evening, sitting heavy on him like a weighted blanket when his head hits the pillow, his body loose and satisfied as he and Ilya curl together to fit on the blue crushed velvet couch. He presses his face into the warmth of Ilya’s underarm, sighing happily when his owner practically suffocates him in an effort to pull him closer. As far as Shane’s concerned, it still could never be close enough.

-

Chapter End Notes

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! A few people were having trouble picturing Shane's kitten ear tattoos, so my lovely friend Ty was kind enough to draw us some artwork! I included it in the tattoo section of my pinterest if you're interested: click here

I also made a board for the aquarium pawposal. Yes, Shane's diamond collar is inspired by Hudson's from the Met. More artwork from Ty there as well!: click here

I'm really excited for the upcoming Christmas chapters now that I finally know what Ilya and Shane are getting each other. But first, we have Intro to BDSM night. What do you think? Is Shane worthy of being the demo kitty, or can he not handle it? Is there a pawsibility he inspires puppy Troy? And how do we feel about Brooks and Grey so far? Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about Ivan :)

Let me know your thoughts! See you next chapter!

Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

warning for internalized homophobia/homophobic slur, waxing, domdrop, subdrop

Ilya starts prepping to wax Shane several days before he actually does. Shane was due for a shave, and with the pet play demo looming closer and closer, Ilya had decided that the best course of action was probably to keep Shane locked up in his cock cage. It helped him to stay up around the boys on Halloween, and Ilya had a feeling that it would also help to channel Shane’s focus while he was publicly performing tricks in a room full of friends and strangers. In all honesty, Ilya wasn’t sure which would be worse for Shane’s mentality—the strangers or the friends.

Either way, though, Shane needed to be hairless if Ilya was going to lock him up, and while shaving had been their main method in the past, there was something about wax that turned Ilya on. If done correctly, it would leave Shane a lot smoother and keep him bare for a lot longer, too. Not only that, but Ilya knew that the added pain would make for a more intense experience for his kitten. Most of the time, Shane didn’t love anything that caused him pain; however, he did love activities that involved shedding his boundaries and having Ilya take care of him. So, after the wax play at the club, Ilya was feeling inspired, and he had no doubt that there was a way to make this an enjoyable, yet overwhelming, experience for Shane. Because he loved seeing Shane be good for him while falling apart.

He begins exfoliating him a few days prior. A gentle exfoliation wash made specifically for the ‘bikini area’ and sensitive skin. The pink bottle maybe implies that it’s a product for women, but Ilya doesn’t care. As far as the internet’s concerned, it’s the most highly rated product on the market, and Ilya was not one to take risks when it came to his kitten.

He holds Shane with one arm crossed over his chest, the other wrapped, slinking down Shane’s waist to massage the product into his pubic hair as water from the shower pours over their naked bodies. Shane throws his head back against Ilya’s shoulder, his eyes shut while he takes in the sensation of Ilya rubbing him.

“That’s it,” Ilya encourages calmly. “My angel has sensitive, sensitive skin. That is why I must take extra special care of you, kitty. Only the best products for my pet. Isn’t that right?”

It’s a rhetorical question—one that Ilya isn’t expecting an answer to. He presses a row of kisses across Shane’s freckled shoulder.

They started training for Intro to BDSM night almost immediately after the Fire and Ice event because if Ilya was going to subject Shane to anything that involved eyes on him, he was going to make damn sure they were well-planned and well-rehearsed; there would be no surprises in this scene.

The scene was quite simple, really. Shane had taken really well to clicker training, and Ilya saw it as a safe activity to perform in front of others without the risk of Shane going too deep into a sexual headspace. Ilya still wasn’t sure what he was comfortable with their teammates and the rest of the club sitting in on, but for this event in particular, Shane would be demoing in a non-sexual capacity only. He would perform some tricks, he would get some treats and a whole lot of praise, and he may even offer Ilya some special kitten licks; however, no one was going to get to see him the way Ilya saw him. That type of behavior was not currently available for public consumption—not if Ilya had anything to say about it, anyway.

He’s already decided that Shane will wear his mask. It was clear to Ilya that masking Shane’s vision in some way helped him to focus on the task at hand, to zero in on Ilya’s voice telling him what to do. The mask would also help to block his peripherals, which could only be a good thing given Shane’s sometimes sudden bursts of shyness. Between that and his cock cage, Ilya was feeling confident that they might actually be able to pull this off.

When Ilya planned for scenes, he liked to think through every possible outcome in his head. What would he do if Shane started to panic? What’s the course of action if Shane somehow gets hurt? If Shane gets abducted by aliens or the building sets on fire, how is Ilya going to swoop in and save his life? When it came to him and Shane, there was no such thing as being too prepared. Ilya had seen the proof of his hard work paying off, and their relationship was thriving because of it, but he was also very aware that the risks still remained.

“I’m so fucking excited for Intro to BDSM night.” Wyatt claps him on the shoulder after practice, two days before the event is supposed to take place. “Lisa has been looking forward to it so much. You have no idea. She hasn’t had a night off in forever. They’ve been working her overtime at the hospital recently.”

“Well, we’ll be sure to show her a good time,” Ilya laughs, shaking out his wet curls as he secures a towel around his waist.

“Dude, same. Cassie keeps trying to figure out what she’s going to wear. You’d almost think she’s the one demoing.” Bood rolls his eyes, but he’s got a big grin on his face.

“I’m sure Shane’s got it on lock, dude,” Wyatt replies around a chuckle, sounding quite confident for someone who’s, so far, spent pretty limited time around Ilya’s kitten.

“Actually, I’ve got it under control,” Ilya says back, his words only slightly stiff. He did not take kindly to anyone speaking on his pet’s behalf. As far as Ilya was concerned, it was up to him to make sure things went off without a hitch. If anything were to go wrong, it wouldn’t be any indication of Shane’s behavior; it would mostly just mean that Ilya had done a poor job at knowing how to guide him as his handler, and Ilya refused to fuck that up on this night or any other.

“Troy and I are really excited, too,” Harris chimes in from where he’s otherwise locked into his phone, working on some stuff for the team’s social media content.

“Troy is what?” Troy’s head turns abruptly at the sound of his name.

Shane is still hovering close to him like he’s just whispered something in Troy’s ear. His hair is damp, his cheeks are pink, and he’s gripping a towel that’s barely fully tied around his waist. His brown eyes dart up at the interruption and land on Ilya’s almost immediately.

“Troy is excited about the event,” Ilya repeats with a smirk, since Harris has barely heard the question, his eyes still trained to the screen in front of him. He takes pleasure in the way Shane seems to flush further in response, the color drifting down his neck and closer to his chest this time.

“Oh,” Troy says, his wet, shaggy hair bouncing as he tips his head. “Yeah, totally.” He smiles big, turning back to Shane to push at his shoulder playfully. “Gotta support my boy.”

Ilya can’t help but laugh. While it was maybe a small factor, Troy certainly wasn’t going to this event for the purpose of supporting Shane. Mostly, he was going out of interest in being a cute little puppy dog. Ilya highly doubted that Troy would get there anytime soon, but he could always hope for the chance that things might one day just click for Troy. If it was going to happen anywhere, the Intro to BDSM pet play demo might be a good bet, but again, Ilya wasn’t going to hold his breath.

Well…he holds his breath when Shane leans forward to rest his cheek on Troy’s shoulder, the other smiling and reaching up to ruffle Shane’s hair affectionately. In fact, Ilya is pretty sure he hears half the locker room hold their breath, so much so that it has him turning sharply to look around the room, taking note of everyone who’s dropped what they’re doing to stop and stare.

“Might I remind everyone that the purpose of Intro to BDSM night is to learn,” Ilya says cuttingly. “If you are planning on attending for any other reason, you may as well just stay home. This is not a chance for you to live out your Shane fantasies.”

“Jesus, Rozy,” Wyatt scoffs. “We’re all going with our partners. None of us are trying to perv out on your precious Shane.”

“Yeah,” Bood huffs in agreement, like Ilya is being ridiculous.

He narrows his eyes at the reaction. “Don’t act like I am being overly protective right now. Or did you not admit to me and the entire team that Shane is you and your partner’s hall pass?”

Bood holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know he was your boy at the time, dude! Come to think of it, that might have been a good time to tell us, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, well. I wasn’t going to out our relationship when my partner wasn’t comfortable yet just because you idiots can’t keep your thirst under control,” he bites back. “But yes, excuse me if I have not forgotten about that bit of information with this event coming up.”

“Oh, please. I can’t be the only one who finds Shane—” Bood cuts himself off abruptly, and Ilya whips his head around to find Harris giving Bood an urgent look.

“No, please. Finish that sentence,” Ilya encourages, glancing between Bood and Harris now, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Look,” Harris sighs, setting his phone down next to him. “Everyone knows Shane is a good-looking guy. But there’s a big difference between seeing something in the club that you happen to find hot, and specifically going to an event because you’re hoping to see Shane in a sexual situation. It should be pretty easy to identify which of those categories you fit into, and if it’s the latter, then you should definitely stay home on Thursday. Otherwise, you’re being disrespectful to your teammates.”

“Thank you, Harris,” Ilya says firmly, glancing around at the rest of the team. “If there is anyone who needs to rethink whether they should be attending this event, I suggest you get your shit together. I am warning you now, but don’t get it twisted; I will not be so forgiving if you refuse to act correct. Safety is first and foremost at Drift. It is not a joke, and it is certainly not the place to fulfill your Shane fantasies.”

“Rozy, I totally get it,” Bood rushes to assure him. “I’m married, okay?” He points to his wedding ring. “Happily so. The hall pass thing was a stupid joke. Cassie and I are interested in learning about BDSM for us. She brought it up to me way before we knew anything about you and Shane’s involvement.”

“Same here,” Wyatt agrees seriously. “Shane’s yours. Nobody wants to come between you and your котёнок. Yes, I looked up what that word means,” he explains before Ilya can butt in, his mouth already open to interrupt. “Look, I think we’re all just curious, right? I mean, it’s obvious Shane is really special. We know how important this is to the both of you, and all of us want to make sure we’re being as respectful as possible while also trying to learn more about it.”

“Yeah.” Holmberg slams his bag on the ground, his hands on his hips. “You guys should be lucky you’re even going. Rozanov denied my membership.”

“Yeah, me too,” LaPointe huffs.

“Wait, seriously?” Troy raises his eyebrows with Shane still hovering nearby him. He hasn’t taken his hand away from Shane’s hair, but he does freeze up at the distraction of the conversation. Shane huffs and head-butts into him to try to get him to resume his pets; Troy does a half-second later.

“Yes, because you two are not mature enough to take it seriously,” Ilya says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “You do not have partners. You do not seem genuinely interested in any way. This is not just a cool place to hang out. This is a serious place. It is not for kids.”

“Kids,” Holmberg scoffs loudly. “I’m twenty years old.”

“If you prove to me you are someone who can handle themselves, then we can reassess down the line, but for right now, safety is my top concern. I do not need you two jokers running around.”

“You can’t discriminate against us for our age,” LaPointe adds, raising his eyebrows.

“It has nothing to do with age,” Ilya shakes his head.

“Really?” Holmberg rolls his eyes. “So, you just happened to deny both of the twenty-year-olds who want to be members, and we’re supposed to think that’s just a coincidence?”

“He approved my application,” Luca says shyly.

The two rookies’ jaws drop as they point accusingly at Luca.

“Is this cause we’re not gay?” LaPointe cries out.

“Oh my god,” Troy finally speaks up. “It’s probably because you two act like fucking idiots half the time. You’re always joking around. Why do you even want to join the club, anyway?”

“Because…” Holmberg trails off. “We’re part of this team, too.”

“You are absolutely a part of this team,” Ilya sighs, pulling a shirt over his head. “But my club is not about this team. I have to keep my members safe at all costs, and right now, I do not feel that you are adding positively to that environment. Like I said, I am happy to reassess your memberships down the line if you are still interested, but for now, the answer is no.”

“But why did you approve Luca, though?” LaPointe demands to know, and Ilya’s eyes dart to Luca as if to say, your call.

Luca sighs softly. “I asked if Ilya could help set me up with someone. It’s just…it’s really hard to meet people with hockey, especially guys, and Ilya said I might have an easier time at the club since there’s a lot of queer people there. I’m also interested in the BDSM part!” He adds, glancing over at Ilya anxiously. “Um, but, yeah. I talked to him privately about it, and he said I could join.”

“I accepted Luca’s membership because he is polite, and he has a real reason for wanting to go. It is pretty simple, actually. And Barrett is right. The two of you do not know when to take things seriously,” he tells Holmberg and LaPointe. “My club is not the place to screw around and try to pick up random girls. You can do that at any of the other clubs around here.”

“But—”

“No more arguments,” Ilya shakes his head.

His eyes only fall to Shane when it’s clear the conversation has ended, all of the boys going back to getting dressed and packing up their things. Troy is talking animatedly to him, but it’s like Shane can sense the moment Ilya’s focus has shifted. He meets his gaze immediately.

Ilya offers him a small smile and a wiggle of his fingers in a wave. It causes Shane to break into a grin, saying something quickly to Troy to excuse himself before he rushes over to greet Ilya.

“Hiya,” Shane gets out breathlessly.

“Hi there. I hope you are not upset with anything I said to the boys,” Ilya offers, trying to catalogue the look in Shane’s eyes.

“Oh, um,” Shane laughs awkwardly. “I barely heard what you said. Troy was, you know, petting me…so.”

“So, what? Your brain turns off at Troy Barrett’s fingers now?” Ilya questions, playfully poking at Shane’s abdomen.

“No,” Shane shakes his head, but his eyes are twinkling up at Ilya like they do every time he’s in a really good mood. It puts Ilya in a good mood as well.

“You ready to go shopping for paper?” He hums, tangling his fingers with Shane’s to squeeze them.

“It’s not paper,” Shane rolls his eyes as he pushes Ilya off of him, but it barely even fazes Ilya because he happens to think Shane looks very sexy when he’s riled up. “I already told you. We’re looking for our save-the-date cards. It’s important we get them out to everyone soon so people can mark their calendars for the wedding.”

“Mm, you are so hot when you talk about marrying me. My little wedding planner,” Ilya teases, tucking a strand of hair behind Shane’s ear.

“Oh, whatever,” Shane brushes off. “Rose is doing all the work, anyway. Well, and my mom. Who keeps stepping on the toes of our actual wedding planner.”

“I think it is sweet she gets so involved,” Ilya says warmly because he and Yuna have been getting along swimmingly ever since he opened up to her about his own family.

“Yeah. So sweet she’s going to kick our butts if we’re not there in the next twenty minutes.”

“Got it,” Ilya nods, straightening out the rest of his clothes before dropping a kiss to Shane’s lips. “You go ahead in your car. I will call the Uber and leave in the next five minutes or so.”

“And you’re going to use the back entrance, right?” Shane double-checks until Ilya levels him with a look. Shane sighs. “I’m just—”

“I know,” Ilya relents. “You are just being careful. I understand. And I remember all your rules, don’t worry,” he smiles, grazing his thumb across Shane’s freckles. “Now, get going, моя любовь. I will see you soon.”

Shane mirrors his expression, pursing his lips for one more kiss—which Ilya easily grants him—before headbutting Ilya’s chest and nuzzling against him in a final goodbye.

“Be good for me,” Ilya says, just for the way it makes Shane shiver in his grasp. Ilya smirks and then gives him a shove in the direction of the exit, blowing him one more kiss as he departs.

-

When Shane gets to his destination, he’s relieved to see that no paparazzi have followed him. Rose wouldn’t be in attendance today, so hopefully, they had no reason to, but Shane could never be too careful. It would be a tough blow if news about him and Ilya broke by giving away that they were planning a wedding to each other. Luckily, the place they’re meeting at isn’t too incriminating. If anything got out of them being spotted here together, they could always try to play it off as something related to the charity.

His mom greets him with a hug the moment he steps inside.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, darling. Where’s your wonderful fiancé?”

Shane rolls his eyes at the change in tune now that his mom has decided she and Ilya are best friends. “He’ll be here any minute. You know we had to make sure we arrived separately.”

“I still think we should give some of the premium brands a heads up—”

“Mom,” Shane cuts her off sternly.

“What?” She raises her eyebrows at him. “Don’t you think they’re going to find out eventually? Better to hear it from us in a prepared statement than to risk it breaching containment. Plus, there’s a lot of opportunity here—”

“Mom,” Shane says again, closing his eyes in exasperation. He was stressed enough as is about the wedding. The last thing he needed right now was a lecture from his mom on how she wanted to structure his and Ilya’s coming out. Luckily, Ilya arrives through the back entrance before she can derail the purpose of this appointment any further.

“Ilya, sweetheart. How’s my favorite son-in-law?” She greets him with a little too much fanfare for Shane’s liking.

Shane frowns and crosses his arms over his chest when Ilya simply laughs and goes to hug her first.

“Hi, Yuna,” he replies, wrapping her in his big, muscly arms that never seem to be covered in any shirt sleeves. “I am good, thank you.”

“Did you see the contract I sent over for Gatorade?” She questions next, and Shane’s jaw actually drops at that.

“You’re doing a deal with Gatorade now?” He asks Ilya in disbelief. “The same one that I turned down?”

Ilya shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Yes. Why not? It’s not like I am on some weird, fancy sugar-free diet that would prevent me from doing so.”

Shane scoffs at the dig.

“Oh, honey.” His mom shakes her head. “You weren’t going to take it, so I figured I may as well see if they wanted to work with Ilya. They did have to change the campaign since it was originally supposed to be based on your new record, and the pay is a little less, considering you’re the one they really wanted, but it’s still a great opportunity. There’s no point in turning down practically free money,” she laughs, like Shane is being ridiculous for standing by his values. “Plus, think of all the free Gatorade!”

“Exactly, Shane. Think of all the free Gatorade.” Ilya nudges him while offering a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, Ilya. Nice to see you, too,” Shane bites back, still feeling neglected and ungreeted for someone who’s at an appointment to pick out their save-the-dates with his soon-to-be-husband—or not, if Ilya wanted to keep this up.

“Oh, relax. I saw you like ten minutes ago.” Ilya rolls his eyes, but he steps over to Shane to bundle him up in a hug anyway—grumpy face, crossed arms, and all. “Wedding planning, моя любовь,” he says, like Shane has somehow forgotten. “Is supposed to be exciting, yes? Turn that frown upside down.”

“Ignore him,” Yuna waves off. “He’s just in a bad mood because I said we should tell some of the premium sponsors about your relationship.”

“Oh, yeah. Ignore me. Because there’s absolutely no reason why that would be a completely and totally bad idea. None at all,” Shane mocks, shooting his mom a glare.

Ilya annoyingly puts a large hand over his entire face to shield Shane from his mother’s line of sight. “Alright, alright. Stop being so grouchy, котёнок. We are all family, hm? We should not be fighting over something that’s meant to be joyous.”

Yuna takes a deep breath like she’s trying to collect herself, like Shane’s the one who’s been the instigator in all this. “You’re right, Ilya. We should all just relax.”

Shane bites Ilya’s finger hard to get him to let go, his eyes filled with rage as he turns to face him.

“Следи за своим отношением,” Ilya warns lowly, and Shane swallows at the tone of voice, but just as quickly, Ilya’s pasting on a smile and directing it towards his mother. “So, where do we start?”

“Well, I spoke to the coordinator before Shane got here. We have the place to ourselves for the next two hours to look around. They’re here if we need help or have questions, but mostly, we just need to settle on the type of paper, the font, and any layouts or colors we want to include.”

“Okay,” Ilya nods, wrapping an arm around Shane’s shoulders. “Should be easy enough, right?” He shrugs, glancing down at Shane.

Shane looks at him in mild annoyance and then pointedly surveys the literal thousands of options before them. “Yeah. Super easy.”

“What is save-the-date again?” Ilya wrinkles his eyebrows.

“Are you serious?” Shane asks in complete irritation. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. I told you this thirty times already. It’s so people can save the date on their calendars. So they don’t plan anything else on the date of our wedding.”

“I am joking,” Ilya tells him, giving his shoulder a little shake. “Relax. You are so tense. What is the point of having so many fancy sports trainers if you are just going to walk around in pure tension all the time?”

“Alright, boys. Settle down. Remember we only have two hours,” Yuna reminds them as she starts off in search of something that might suit her liking.

Shane takes advantage of the moment alone, ducking out from under Ilya’s arm to face him fully. “Can you, like, take this seriously?” He requests, his eyes searching Ilya’s.

“I am taking this seriously,” Ilya assures him, squeezing Shane’s hand. “But it is also our wedding. Is it so crazy to think we can have a bit of fun with it? It’s supposed to be exciting, yes?”

Shane…hadn’t really thought of that. To him, so far, this wedding had been nothing but pure stress. Every decision felt like it fell to him because Ilya either couldn’t be present, or didn’t really care that much; not as much as Shane did, at least. It’s a little different having him here, though—the one person who could identify and remediate Shane’s anxious thoughts in two seconds flat, sometimes before Shane could even acknowledge them himself.

Ilya’s already having a positive effect on him; Shane can feel it in the way his shoulders loosen and fall away from his neck.

“There’s my angel,” Ilya smiles at him, cupping his jaw.

Shane hates how easily he sinks into it, hates how Ilya can have such a great big effect on him, that his mere presence can flip Shane’s entire mood around.

“You just don’t get how stressful this has been,” he admits softly, letting himself fall forward into Ilya’s arms. He sighs when Ilya starts to rub circles over his lower back. “There are a million things to do. Every single thing requires like twenty different decisions.”

“I’m sorry you have been dealing with this on your own,” Ilya murmurs against the shell of his ear. “I should have found a way to attend the venue viewings with you.”

“No,” Shane shakes his head, nuzzling closer to Ilya’s chest. “The venues would have been too complicated. You’re here now. I’m just glad that part is over.”

“Well, you picked a beautiful place, and I am so excited to marry you there. It will be very private and scenic, and I’m sure I will be bawling my eyes out when you walk down the aisle.”

“When I walk down the aisle?” Shane laughs, pulling away to look up at his partner.

Ilya, to his part, just wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“We haven’t talked about, like, a lot of this stuff, you know?” Shane mentions lightly, pressing his hands back in Ilya’s.

“I—I’m sorry. I just assumed…” Ilya stutters, looking taken aback by Shane’s words. “But you are right. There’s a lot we need to talk about,” he agrees, his eyes focused like he’s committed to taking a more vested interest in wedding-related topics going forward. “There is one thing in particular that has been on my mind a lot.”

Shane breathes out a small sigh of relief and squeezes Ilya’s hands tightly in his. Like always, they were on the same page. “Me too,” he nods, lips curling when Ilya’s expression brightens minutely.

“Yeah? Okay, good. Cause I really think we need to talk about—”

“Last names.”

“—coming out,” Ilya finishes.

Shane’s eyes go wide as fucking saucers. What? “I—” he laughs nervously. “What are you talking about?”

Ilya just blinks a few times, like he hadn’t been expecting Shane’s answer either. “Well, I do not see how we can be married if we are not out. Aren’t the records public?”

“Not immediately,” Shane answers, and it seems like it’s a little too quick for Ilya’s liking, if the way he narrows his eyes is anything to go off of.

“I don’t understand. You will marry me, but we cannot tell anyone? For how long, Shane? What is the plan here?”

“There isn’t a plan,” Shane bites back. “I mean…not…not yet, at least,” he adds lightly as panic begins to rise in his chest. “Like I said, we haven’t really had a chance to talk yet—”

“Yes, well. We should probably do that,” Ilya cuts in. Shane wonders if he means for it to sound as harsh as it does. “I thought the whole point of this marriage was that you wanted people to know. I thought we were making a big declaration.”

“We are,” Shane presses, squeezing Ilya’s fingers in his once more. “But hockey—”

“What about hockey, Shane?” Ilya laughs bitterly. “You are not with your old team anymore. You are on a team who loves you and accepts you for exactly who you are. Who we are—”

“It doesn’t mean there aren’t other factors,” Shane grits out. “Just because the guys don’t care doesn’t mean the league won’t.”

“Fuck the fucking league,” Ilya scoffs. “You practically make up the entire NHL at this point. You are the best player they have ever seen. You just broke a record. Everyone is dying to come see a game to get a look at your greatness. They are quite literally nothing without you.”

“They’re not going to want me when they find out what I get up to in my spare time,” Shane raises his voice. “They are never going to fucking accept this, Ilya. Not in a million fucking years.”

“They are never going to find out that you’re a cat—” Ilya says lightly, like he’s hyper-aware that Shane’s mom is just around the corner.

“I’m not talking about me being a cat! I’m talking about me being a fucking faggot.”

-

Ilya’s blood runs cold. There was that word again. A word Shane had probably only heard directed at him once or twice, but it had stuck with him ever since. A word that cost the Voyageurs absolutely nothing to say, but for Shane, it hung over his head like a death sentence, like a branding that would define him first and foremost for the rest of forever.

He grips Shane’s wrists tightly in one hand and pulls him steadfast in the direction of the men’s bathroom, kicking the door open before yanking him inside and pressing him flush against it.

“Listen to me,” Ilya says, pinning Shane to the door with a strong arm across his chest. “I don’t want to hear you use that word to describe yourself ever again,” he tells him seriously, his eyes searching Shane’s to make sure the other is hearing him. “You are the best person I know. You are sweet, and kind, and thoughtful. You are strong, and brave, and caring, and generous. You are defined by so many things other than your sexuality. In fact, you being gay is quite possibly the least interesting thing about you.”

Shane swallows, trying to duck his gaze, but Ilya catches him by the chin.

“You are the love of my life, in this universe and any other, and I cannot stand the thought of you seeing yourself this way. Of you seeing yourself as anything other than the beautiful light that you so deeply are. God, you’re fucking everything to me, Shane. And if you being gay means I get to have you, then I will drop down on both knees and suck the dick of whatever God invented homosexuality to make it happen because I owe them my life.” Ilya watches him carefully, blue irises never leaving brown as he pleads for the words to sink in and actually take this time. “I am so sorry you have been treated this way by people you considered to be your friends. But fuck,” Ilya curses, shaking his head. “It also kills me that you continue to let those assholes hurt you like this. It makes me want to do violent, violent things.”

Shane shuts his eyes tightly, like he’s doing his best to process the world around him, like he’s trying to make sense of which parts are reality versus which parts were fed to him as fabrication.

“It’s not just them,” he says finally, his words coming out of him in a quiet whoosh of breath. He blinks until his doe eyes are back on Ilya. “It’s everyone. How do you think they’re going to react? We’re going to be the laughing stock of the sport, and that’s if they even let us play at all. Our legacies will be ruined.”

Ilya levels him with an intense look. “Think about how many queer people are on our team alone. Think about how many other hockey players, or players of any sport, are struggling with this same secret right now. It isn’t right, Shane. Someone needs to take a stand.”

“Scott Hunter did take a stand. And you saw what happened. Nothing changed. No one cares—”

“That’s not true,” Ilya shakes his head. “I talked to him at The Kingfisher after he came out. He said players from all over the world were messaging him. Players of all ages. Maybe not active in the NHL, but they are clearly there. There are clearly people who are crying out for help. Who are desperate to come out, but they are too afraid. People like you and me.”

“Ilya,” Shane sighs.

“There is no reason why hockey players can’t be gay,” Ilya replies firmly. “Scott Hunter is a dinosaur. You’re right; he wasn’t enough to force the league to change, but you are. You’re the best player in the league, without a doubt. You might even be the best player in history—”

“Ilya,” Shane tries again.

“I am serious,” he says sternly, his eyes leaving no room for argument. “If you came out, it would change everything. Other guys, other guys who are struggling…they would see it’s okay. They would stand with you. Someone just has to be brave enough to do it first. And you know I will be right by your side the whole time.”

Shane pauses for a second, like he’s really processing Ilya’s words, really thinking it over. “Yeah. You’re right, Ilya,” he admits softly, his gaze dropping to the floor, and Ilya lets him, relinquishing his grip only slightly to allow Shane a little bit more freedom with his movements. “I just…I just don’t know if I’m willing to be the one to make that sacrifice. If I’m willing to risk everything—my career, everything I’ve worked for, my legacy—just to have it all tarnished and overshadowed by the fact that I like dick.”

Ilya’s heart sinks slowly to the pit of his stomach, but he can’t hold it against him. It’s a lot to ask of someone. It’s a lot to ask of Shane, specifically, so Ilya just pulls him close to his chest. He hugs him tight in his arms, breathing in the familiar scent of his hair, his skin, his insatiable drive that would either allow him to take over the world or possibly be his biggest downfall if he allowed it to swallow him whole.

If there was one thing Ilya knew for sure, it’s that his Shane was not okay. Ilya thought they had made headway on this, thought they were moving in the right direction—and maybe they had, maybe they were—but it was clear to him that Shane still had a long way to go before he was ready to accept himself, and he needed to do that before he could be expected to ask anyone else to accept him.

Ilya loves him regardless. He would never force Shane to do something that he isn’t comfortable with, and like he’s told Shane a million times over, he would never ask Shane to be anything other than what he is.

“My dick, to be exact,” Ilya grumbles into his neck to let Shane know that he isn’t upset with him.

Shane lets out a weak chuckle, but he still nods jerkily against Ilya’s chest. “Your dick,” he agrees, his voice soft and nowhere near as bratty as it had been when they first arrived.

“We only have two hours here,” Ilya reminds him gently, and with what he knew of Yuna Hollander, he had no doubt that she was probably standing with one ear pressed against the door, trying to listen in on every tidbit of their conversation. If that were true, he hoped she could at least appreciate how fiercely Ilya cared for her son. “We should probably get going if we want to find our save-the-calendar.”

“Save-the-date,” Shane reminds him for the hundredth time, but it draws a laugh out of him, which is what Ilya was hoping for.

“Save-the-date,” he relents, pulling back to offer Shane a warm smile. He stares at him for a minute before pressing a kiss to his nose, then his lips. “I love you so much,” Ilya tells him earnestly, the pads of his thumbs grazing over the skin of Shane’s hipbones from where his shirt has ridden up.

He feels butterflies in his tummy when Shane ducks his head and momentarily breaks into a mega-watt smile, his eyes crinkling at the sides like a little set of cat whiskers. It’s as much of an ‘I love you’ as anything, so Ilya squeezes his hips once before nodding towards the door.

“Ready to go do wedding things?”

Shane nods and pastes back on his brave expression like it’s nothing, like he’s gotten a little too comfortable with wearing the mask and pretending it’s his regular face. Ilya tries not to let the thought worry him as they make their way back to the store.

He avoids Yuna’s gaze as she looks them over carefully, something like concern or perhaps just nosiness etched across her features. He ignores it in favor of pouring himself into Shane because it was clear the other needed him right now, possibly more than ever. This wedding was obviously taking more of a toll on him than he was outwardly letting on, and now that Ilya was aware, he was determined to make sure it didn’t take anything else.

So, for the next two hours, they look at paper. White paper, black paper, colorful paper. None of it really makes a difference to Ilya, and every time he glances over at Shane, he isn’t sure that any of it really makes a difference to him either. But Rose is on the phone offering her two cents, and Yuna seems to have a lot of opinions, and…yeah. Ilya can easily see now why this has been so stressful.

He steps up behind Shane and places two hands on his shoulders, digging his thumbs into the tense muscle there. He smiles when he instantly starts to feel Shane relax in his grip. Ilya ducks forward to nose at his hairline, pressing a sweet kiss behind his ear before hooking his chin over Shane’s shoulder to see what he’s looking at.

This type of paper doesn’t really look like paper at all. It’s transparent, for one, and a little thicker than the other materials they’ve spent so much time looking at, but the thing that sticks out to Ilya the most are the tiny little array of white dots separating the text from the border. It reminds him of Shane’s pretty kitten speckle spots.

“I like the dots,” Ilya murmurs against his ear.

“Me too,” Shane agrees, leaning back against him. “It looks like stars.”

Ilya’s lips curl at the difference in their thought processes. Their minds worked in distinctive ways, but ultimately, they always ended up in the same place. It feels like a metaphor for their entire journey so far.

“I like the white text, but the font feels a bit too…”

“Yeah,” Ilya nods, rubbing the scruff of his chin over the most sensitive part of Shane’s neck just to feel him shiver. “We could do something a little less showy.”

Shane hums, closing his eyes as he sinks even closer. Ilya winds his arms around Shane’s waist to hug him against his chest. “Simple…” he breathes out, sounding affected by the close proximity. “Simple is good,” he shudders.

Ilya wants to laugh. The material of cards is significantly more expensive than any of the paper options, even the thickest of them, so he isn’t sure that simple is exactly the right word to use, but he’s endlessly enamored by his fiancé regardless. His fiancé and his ridiculously pricey tastes. Ilya wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Did you boys find something?” Yuna approaches them, still holding Shane’s phone up on FaceTime as she and Rose peruse the options. “Oh, wow,” she comments, looking down at the option in Shane’s hand.

Ilya pulls back a bit to give Shane some more breathing room, but he keeps his hands firmly planted on Shane’s hips.

“Rose, what do you think of this one?” Yuna asks, taking the card from her son to hold it up to the camera.

“Oooh,” Rose gets out delightedly. “That is so unique. I love the font.”

It pulls a laugh from both Shane and Ilya, Shane turning over his shoulder to offer Ilya a warm look.

“It’s like stars or something,” Yuna comments, running her thumb over the slightly raised dots.

“Freckles, just like Shane’s,” Ilya can’t help adding, ducking around to kiss one of Shane’s cheeks that pinken deliciously at the affection.

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Rose declares. “It’s perfect. Very you.”

Ilya is glad that everyone seems to agree. He doesn’t know how the conversations about wedding venues went over with this group, but today feels like a step in the right direction, especially with the way Shane is relaxed and loose in his arms. If the rest of their wedding planning experiences can go this smoothly, he’s convinced he can turn Shane’s stress jitters into excitement jitters in no time.

When they get home, Ilya decides it’s time for a shower; Shane needs at least one day in between his wax and the event to give his skin some time to rest. Ilya had done a ton of research, and had even embarrassingly reached out to Svetlana to ask for tips because…well, yeah…Ilya happened to know she’s had her fair share of waxes—at least, back in the day. Either way, with all of his studies, one thing was absolutely clear to him: there would be no sex for at least 24 hours after waxing. Ilya had to assume that applied to wearing a cock cage as well, and if he knew anything at all about his Shane, it was that his pet had very sensitive skin, and Ilya was not known for taking risks when it came to his kitten.

If Shane is aware of the fact that Ilya is planning on doing something different with his grooming routine, he doesn’t let on. He’s just as pliant and docile as ever as Ilya gets him into the shower and suds him up. He tips his head back, soaking up the attention like a sponge while Ilya dotes on him, giving him a nice body and head massage in preparation of what’s to come. When they finish up, Ilya dries him off and then goes off in search of some pain medication. The wax shouldn’t hurt him terribly if Ilya did everything correct, but it was better to be safe than sorry to ensure his kitten was as relaxed as possible throughout the process.

Shane looks at him in confusion as Ilya places two pills and a bottle of water in his hand.

“You are due for a shave, baby,” he says by way of explanation, but Shane’s furrowed eyebrows don’t let up. “I was thinking…I want you extra smooth for the event on Thursday, so you can feel like a fancy show kitty. Plus, if I wax you, then it will take a lot longer for the hair to grow back.”

Shane sucks in a deliberate breath, his eyes widening slightly.

“You have not been waxed before, have you?” Ilya asks, even though he knows the answer.

Shane shakes his head anyway.

Ilya offers up the pain pills once again, and this time, Shane takes them, swallowing them dutifully. “Good boy,” Ilya praises, smiling when Shane’s eyes momentarily flutter closed in response. “We are going to start the same as usual,” he tells him, placing a towel on the floor in front of the mirror. He holds up the electric clippers as a reminder, gliding a hand over Shane’s shoulder when he steps close enough. “You are green with me waxing you, right, precious?” Ilya double-checks, cupping his jaw to get a good look at him.

“Trust you,” is all Shane says, but it’s enough.

Ilya pulls him into a firm kiss. “Thank you, baby. Always so good for me. Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at any point, okay? I am going to trim you, then I’m going to wax you, and then we are going to do some serious aftercare so I can love all over you. Yes?”

“Yes,” Shane agrees, amenable and sweet. Ilya wishes he could feel light like this always.

Ilya kisses him once more before turning on the electric clippers and dropping to his knees in front of Shane. As promised, Ilya trims him down first, working in quick, practiced motion. He had only shaved Shane a handful of times now, but as always, when it came to Shane, Ilya was nothing if not a quick study. He knows Shane’s body like the back of his hand at this point. Still, he’s thorough, diligent with the knowledge that his attention to detail will have a direct effect on Shane’s comfort level as they continue.

Once he’s finished with the first step, he wets a clean towel and carefully wipes Shane down before applying a pre-wax powder to absorb any additional moisture. It was supposed to prevent the wax from gripping onto Shane’s skin rather than his hair, and hopefully, it would make the entire process a lot less painful, too.

After that’s done, Ilya preps the wax. He’s using a digital warmer, as per Svetlana’s suggestion, because apparently the pre-made wax strips often didn’t work very well, and they weren’t a viable option for sensitive areas. He follows all of her instructions to a tee, working with the wax beads until they turn into the right malleability for Ilya to test it on his own skin. He checks the temperature on the back of his hand, and then he even tries removing a small patch of hair from his own arm just to make sure he’s got the technique down. The hair comes off clean and easy, practically painless other than the sting, but Ilya’s sure it will be another story on Shane’s cock, hence the pain pills. The pain pills that should be halfway on their way to working right now. They would hopefully start to kick in when Ilya reached the midway point.

The air around them is starting to get chilly, which Ilya appreciates. He’d adjusted the cooling system ahead of time, as advised through his research, to ensure the skin around Shane’s cock stayed as firm as possible. Tautness would be their best friend, or else none of this was going to work, and Ilya was not one to accept failure, especially when it came to Shane. He’s taken all the necessary steps to guarantee otherwise.

Shane looks a little fuzzy, so Ilya approaches him with a gentle hand on his hip, rubbing over his outer thigh.

“You doing alright, моя любовь?” He asks, pushing the fingers of his other hand through the front of Shane’s hair all the way through to the nape of his neck.

Shane hums and arches into the gesture, a sated smile on his lips as his eyes flutter closed.

“You can be quiet for me,” Ilya allows, pulling Shane closer until their foreheads and noses are pressed together. “You are being very good, but please give me a sign if you start to feel differently. Dig your kitty claws into my shoulder. Pull my hair. Anything to get my attention and we can stop right away. Do you understand?”

Shane ducks forward to swipe his tongue across Ilya’s lips.

It’s a little too chilly in the room, but if it weren’t, Ilya’s sure he’d be hard as a rock by now. There was nothing in the world that turned him on more than Domming Shane. Sexually. Non-sexually. In a dedicated scene, or just in passing. Little moments, big moments; it didn’t matter to him. Seeing Shane trust him enough to give up control was like a tiny taste of heaven to Ilya, and he knew just how much it cost Shane to do so.

It’s why his skin is buzzing all over as he goes to retrieve the wax machine, pulling it down on the floor with him along with all of the other necessary supplies. He swirls the applicator through the wax to test the consistency once more, and then scoops some up, rubbing his other hand over Shane’s thigh in an attempt to ease his nerves. When he has the proper amount of wax ready, and after checking the temperature a final time, he carefully reaches for Shane’s hip.

“It should feel nice and warm for a second, sweetheart,” Ilya warns before applying the wax downward onto Shane’s pubic area.

Shane sighs and rocks forward, holding onto his shoulder while Ilya keeps him steady during the application.

He applies the wax in a strip of about an inch, leaving one end thicker than the other so he’ll have a clear side to pull on when he removes it. It doesn’t take long for the wax to dry, hardening up quickly, and as it does, he glances up at Shane to check how he’s doing.

But Shane’s just got his eyes closed, his face relaxed, fingers loosely curled around the curve of Ilya’s skin. He looks like he’s somewhere off in his beautifully submissive mind, and it makes Ilya’s belly swirl in anticipation. Like any good Dom, he wants to cause a little pain here or there, but mostly, the thrill is in easing the pain afterwards. Taking Shane apart for the sole purpose of getting to be the one who puts him back together again. Ilya wanted to give him everything.

“Good boy. You’re doing so good for me. Just stay relaxed. I want you to focus on my voice and listen very carefully to me. I am going to ask you to take a deep breath in, and then, when I say so, I am going to need you to exhale as much as you can for me. Very long and hard exhale, okay? I will pull the wax when you exhale so it will not hurt as much.”

Shane winces at the word ‘hurt’, so Ilya leans in and kisses all around the area the wax isn’t until his fiancé starts to loosen up.

“I am right here with you. I’m going to take such good care of you. I just need you to trust that everything’s alright, hm? Can you do that for me?” Shane nods, so Ilya presses his hand right at the base of Shane’s cock and pulls his skin taut in preparation. “Big deep breath in for me, baby. Big, big breath,” he requests, eyes trained to his lover to make sure he’s following along. “Good, there you go. Alright, now big, big exhale. Exhale, exhale, exhale,” he chants to make sure Shane’s abs are tensed before ripping the wax off of him quickly in an upward motion.

Shane cries out and grips onto Ilya’s shoulder, his eyes shut tightly.

The second the wax is off, Ilya firmly presses his hand against the red spot on Shane’s skin to soothe the sting. He uses his other hand to rub distracting circles onto Shane’s thigh, leaning in to apply open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach. “Oh, you are doing so well for me. My absolute best boy, aren’t you? I can’t believe how good you are.”

Shane sniffles, a single tear slipping from the corner of his eye down to his cheek as he tackles the sensation of being hurt by someone who loves him so, so much.

“Can you tell me if you are green, princess? If it is too much, we do not have to do anymore. I will not be upset if you want me to shave you the rest of the way.”

Shane shakes his head, but Ilya knows him well enough to know that’s not a no.

“I am going to keep going, маленький цветок. If you wish for me to stop, then you press your claws into my shoulder immediately, yes? Promise?”

And there it is. A true nod this time, one that Ilya can take as real confirmation that Shane’s heard him.

So, Ilya continues on like that, waxing the expanse of Shane’s pubic area in little sections until Shane is whimpering with each pull against his skin, taking deep, grounding breaths to drive through the pain that must be radiating all over by now. He’s doing an excellent job, taking everything Ilya gives him without complaint, and especially for someone who didn’t technically enjoy pain in scenes like this.

But Ilya knows the worst is yet to come as he gets lower and lower down, and by the time he gets to Shane’s shaft, he hopes the pain medicine is at least somewhat close to kicking in. Either that, or subspace to offer Shane some much-needed endorphins.

Ilya pulls the skin of his shaft up against his body until it’s completely smoothed out before applying the wax directly to his cock this time, from the base upward. Shane cries out, possibly at the sensation of the wax on such a sensitive area, or possibly with the knowledge of what’s to come. Ilya leans in to suck at the head of his cock as a momentary distraction. Shane clutches onto his hair tightly and makes like he’s going to keel over in sensitivity.

“Up straight for me, baby,” Ilya warns immediately, pinching Shane’s thigh to get him to stand up fully. “It is going to be very painful if this wax does not go over smooth skin. I need you to stand very still for me. Listen to your Alpha.”

Shane does what he asks, like his body knows to follow Ilya’s instructions even when his brain can’t execute a single thought. Ilya gives the end of the wax a tentative pull to make sure it’s completely dry before directing Shane through his inhales again. He holds the skin at the base extremely tight and rips downward at the exhale, pressing his hand against the newly smooth strip immediately after.

Shane screams out when he does, gripping onto Ilya’s shoulder punishingly tight as his knees practically collapse out from under him so he can curl in on himself.

“Sh, sh, you’re okay,” Ilya soothes, biting into Shane’s upper thigh in an attempt to distract him. “I know it’s a lot, baby. God, you’re so perfect for me. Just breathe, sweetheart. Breathe for me, that’s it. In and out. Come on.”

Slowly but surely, Shane is able to catch his breath. He’s stunningly beautiful with wet eyes and tears running all down his flushed face. He’s trusting Ilya unguardedly, even through the insurmountable pain he must be feeling, so Ilya gives him a few minutes to calm down before they start up again.

“There we go. Just keep breathing. That’s my good boy,” he encourages, unable to help letting his smile bleed into his voice. “Oh, we are going to do the best aftercare after this, aren’t we? Maybe we will go curl up in your omega nest and I will snuggle you extra tight while I tell you all my favorite things about you. And I can pet your hair. Right, sweet boy? Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Shane sniffles and nods, rubbing his fist over one of his eyes while he gets a handle on his breathing.

“That’s real good, sweetheart. Just like that,” Ilya murmurs, looking over his handiwork in appreciation. “You are so, so smooth down here. Fuck,” he sighs, pressing his lips tenderly to Shane’s cock. He glances back up at Shane after a moment to check how he’s doing. “Do you want me to stop, angel? Your pain medicine should be kicking in any minute now.”

-

Shane shudders at the feeling of Ilya’s mouth on his skin. He can feel the difference already, can feel how smooth he is, can feel it in the way the cool air of the room blows across him. The pain is there, but it’s not as sharp and present anymore, instead more like a dull ache. He doesn’t know if that means the medicine has started working or not.

He sinks closer to the touch when Ilya reaches for his fingers, giving his hand a squeeze. It feels good to have Ilya on his knees for him like this. It feels good to clutch onto his hair and squeeze his big shoulders. It feels good to have Ilya talking to him, holding him, touching him. He knows he can still have that even if they stop, but he also finds that he doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s the idea of having his hair grow in unevenly after, at a different pace than the rest from the half-finished wax-job, or maybe it’s just because he’s right at the edge of something greater. Something nicer. Something fuzzy and far-off and delicious.

“Green,” he manages to let leave his lips, even though it sounds jumbled to his ears. He can’t make sense of himself right now. He’s Ilya’s to keep track of, Ilya’s to take apart and put back together again.

“Good boy,” Shane hears, and it makes a semblance of a smile cross his lips. His eyes are still closed because it feels better that way, to not have to know what comes next, to let Ilya decide everything for him.

So, they continue. The pain isn’t as bad this time around. Maybe it’s because Shane’s expecting it, or maybe it really is the medicine, but he finds himself much more able to drown it out. He anchors himself to Ilya’s words, getting lost in the cadence and vibrato of his lover’s voice.

God, Ilya’s voice was sexy. Thick Russian accent. Ricocheting around his big chest. His nice hands running all over Shane’s skin, treating him so, so carefully. Shane moans before he can help himself, his knees going weak when Ilya rips off another piece of wax.

“Feeling good, baby? Seems like that pain medicine kicked in, hm?”

Shane purrs and blindly ducks forward to rub his head against Ilya’s.

“Jesus, you are so fucking cute. You are going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” He laughs, and Shane melts at the sound.

He’s in that rare kind of subspace that he doesn’t get to go to very often. The kind that requires pain to push him over the edge. He remembers getting a taste of it when Ilya spanked him that one time with the riding crop, and then again during the wax play at Fire and Ice. The feeling of the pain suddenly melting away and turning into something different—something warm and numb. Like Ilya could do anything to him and Shane wouldn’t feel a thing.

Time goes by like that—entirely unbeknownst to Shane, who could be ten years into the future right now and blissfully unaware. He’s still technically cognizant of the wax on his skin, of each rip that pulls all of his hair up from the root, but it’s a far-off rendition of knowing up from down. Sideways from leftways or whatever other ways.

“I am going to do your balls now, sweetheart,” Ilya warns, and Shane shifts closer to him even in the endless dark of the ocean he’s sunken deep down into. “This will be the worst of it, but I think you are down enough that it shouldn’t hurt too much. I just want you to squeeze my shoulder extra tight if you need to.”

Shane smiles and tips his head back slightly. He feels like he’s detached from his body, like he’s on a raft that will take him far, far away. Free from his worries, free from the ache of carrying such heavy thoughts around with him on a day-to-day basis.

He can feel Ilya manipulating his skin this way and that. He can feel the wax on the most sensitive area of his body, but it only pulls him in that much further. There’s warmth radiating through the blood that lines every inch of his organs. There’s still a sharpness when the wax lifts, but it’s all background noise, like Shane’s in a loud movie theater and his cell phone is vibrating at him from nearly thirty feet away. He can feel Ilya’s shoulders under his hands, but he can’t make sense of it. His skin pulses, crying out in either agony or pleasure. It’s all the same to him.

Holy fucking shit. Shane doesn’t know how, but suddenly Ilya is waxing his asshole now, and for whatever reason, Shane feels that the most. He thinks he’s moaning, or perhaps screaming, only it’s too far away for him to tell. Ilya’s words collapse as they hit the air, breaking off into a million letters that Shane has no hope of making sense of. Woah.

Ilya’s hands are still on him. Rubbing. Shane thinks he smells something scented, or maybe it’s all in his head. And the next thing he knows he’s in his nest. It happens in a blink, a whole chunk of time gone where Shane has no idea how he got here. He’s confused, but his mind can’t be bothered to put the pieces together. All he knows is Ilya is right above him, and his lips are forming shapes that must be making sounds. He’s smiling, which means Shane must have done a good job. It must be why he’s surrounded by Ilya’s scent, and Ilya isn’t a person anymore; he’s an Alpha. Shane’s Alpha. Because Shane’s just a silly omega who’s scent-drunk off his Alpha’s pheromones. He purrs and burrows closer.

“There’s my sweet baby,” Ilya coos down at him, squeezing him tightly in his big arms.

Shane preens at the attention.

“You are just…god, I have no words for how incredible you are. How did I get such a soft, cuddly creature, hm? So trusting, мой ангел. I feel like the luckiest man in the world to get to take care of you. You are like my little doll, aren’t you? I can just feed you, and dress you, and buy you lots of pretty things. Sometimes, I have to groom my precious toy, too. That is what we did today, yes? So I can show you off on Thursday. Do you know how proud I’m going to be? Having you be so well-behaved for me, and I know you will because you are always well-behaved.”

Shane rubs his nose all over Ilya’s warm, bare chest. Shane’s in a massive hoodie that absolutely must belong to Ilya. Maybe it’s an old Boston Bears hoodie that got stretched in the wash, but Shane loves the feeling of drowning in the fabric. He’s a baby kitten wiggling around in his owner’s arms. He feels like being fed milk from a bottle and having his tummy tickled and having a fish toy dangled over him so he can paw at it. Then, maybe he’ll tucker himself out and fall asleep in the silliest cat position. Maybe Ilya will stick one of his big human fingers in between the padding of Shane’s paw and Shane’s kitten claws will close around it, pulling Ilya closer even in his sleep. He wrinkles his nose and lets out the tiniest, squeakiest kitten sneeze.

“Oh, bless you, baby,” Ilya laughs, hugging him extra close. “A little baby sneeze for my silly kitty. You are so fucking cute.”

There are fingers in his hair that make Shane go absolutely wild with purrs as he presses his claws into Ilya’s chest, making biscuits like a kitten who is hard at work at the bread factory in hopes of feeding and providing for his family. It’s the least he can do since his owner takes care of him, of all the bills and the icky human stuff that Shane wants to endlessly drift away from.

“Oh, you are the very sweetest. I just want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you safe from everything. You deserve the entire world, and I will do everything in my power to make sure you get it, okay? I think I was put on this Earth to take care of you. I will be your guardian angel, your biggest supporter, your fiercest protector—”

Ilya babbles on and on, but Shane couldn’t care less what he’s saying. All he knows is that life as Ilya’s cat is so fucking good, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not for hockey. Not for his friends. Not for his family. Not for the world. He’s exactly where he belongs. It’s a thought he has at least once a day when he’s in Ilya’s arms.

-

On the day of the demo, Ilya is feeling extremely confident. Maybe even overly so, but he can’t help it. He’s prepared for every possible scenario, and this time, it feels foolproof. Shane is ready for this. Shane could handle it. And not because Ilya was forcing him, not because he was scared of not pleasing Ilya, but because Shane wanted to. Some part of Shane liked the idea of people seeing him as a cat almost as much as Ilya liked the idea of people knowing he owned a cat—a kitten in the form of Shane Hollander, to be specific.

The thing is they weren’t even going to demo anything sexual because pet play wasn’t about sex. Not always. Not for them, at least. For Shane, his kitten playtime was just as important to him as slobbering all over Ilya’s cock. He liked to nap in his crate for no reason other than the simple fact that he found peace in being a kitten. It was his happy place, and with Ilya’s watchful guidance, he could go there as often as he wanted. Well, almost as often as he wanted. Knowing Shane, he probably wanted to go there all the time, but human time was just as important these days.

Shane’s the pet of all time, Ilya realizes, and he’s buzzing with the thought of getting to show him off in front of everyone. For Bood, Wyatt, and Luca, this would be nothing new. Sure, Shane might be a little further down than usual—or a lot—but they had seen him be a kitten plenty of times. They’d pet him and played with him and watched over him when Ilya couldn’t. No issues there. In all honesty, the ones Ilya was most worried about were Cassie and Lisa.

It didn’t even matter, though, because he’d thought through all of this already. Shane would be wearing his mask tonight, no question, and it really had nothing to do with the idea of anyone seeing his face; mostly, it was the closest parallel Ilya could think of to a blindfold, which had proven to be Shane’s holy grail in their last two dedicated scenes—both of which involved wax and more pain than Shane was used to. By taking away his sight, it allowed him to go deeper and be less aware of his surroundings, therefore becoming more reliant on Ilya. More trustful, too. He had high hopes that it would work the same way here.

If all else failed, there was always the cock cage. On Halloween, it seemed to keep Shane more human than anything else had in the past, and Ilya firmly believed it would help him stay focused enough to get through the demo. It would keep Shane from getting too sexual; it would keep him from crossing any boundaries he wasn’t comfortable crossing in front of their friends.

And if even that didn’t work, well…Ilya had brought in reinforcements.

“So, what’s this I hear about a pawposal?”

Shane’s eyes go wide as he looks over at Ilya, and Ilya just smiles knowingly. “Surprise.”

“Holy shit. Ivan?” Shane laughs excitedly, rushing over to hug him tight. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ivan grins and allows Shane to nearly knock him back with the force of his hug, arms wrapping around him just as fiercely. “There’s my favorite kitten. You didn’t actually think I was gonna miss your first demo, did you?”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Shane mutters into his neck. “You smell good. What is that?”

“New cologne. It was a gift,” Ivan hums, rubbing over Shane’s back before pulling away slightly to get a better look at him. “I missed you, kitty. How have you been holding it down over here?”

“Good,” Shane replies softly, like just being around Ivan is already starting to send him down a bit. Intentional on Ilya’s part, but seamless to Shane, like all of Ilya’s best warm-ups were. “I met a fox,” Shane says next because, of course that’s the most pressing thing on his mind.

“A fox?” Ivan laughs. “Oh my goodness.”

Ilya just shakes his head fondly. “Why don’t you show Ivan your new kitten ear tattoos, baby?” He suggests, feeling pleased when Shane immediately goes to follow his instruction.

“Kitten ear tattoos?” Ivan raises his eyebrows animatedly. “Oh, look at that.” He smiles in amazement, reaching up to graze his fingers over the back of Shane’s neck. “I always knew you were a real-life kitten, but now you’ve got the permanent ears to prove it. And you’re doing your first demo? I’m so fucking proud of you, котёнок.” He ruffles Shane’s hair fully this time, and Shane purrs while falling into his touch.

“Ivan came all the way to see you. Isn’t that nice, моя любовь?” Ilya prompts, even though it’s not the full truth. In reality, Ilya desperately needed a sub he trusted to help out with the bondage portion of this evening, and lucky for him, Ivan was pretty much always up for a scene, even if it meant a two-hour drive. “Do you wanna say thank you to him for coming? He is here for moral support, and he is also going to help us out with the bondage portion.”

Shane looks over to Ilya in confusion and then back to Ivan, his eyes darting around the room like he’s waiting for someone to pop out and surprise him. It only takes a few seconds for Ilya to understand where his head’s at.

“No, Cedric is not here tonight, sweetheart,” Ilya fills in, a warm feeling in his chest when Shane’s nose twitches, a sign that lets Ilya know he’s heading further and further into his kitten mode.

“Cedric had to work.” Ivan pouts, scratching his fingers through Shane’s hair once more before rubbing his shoulder. “He says hello, though. He totally misses you guys. It’s so lame at Hush without you there.”

Shane’s lips curl up at the ends as he falls forward to rub his face against Ivan’s neck. “Really?” He asks softly, big brown doe eyes blinking up at him.

“Absolutely,” Ivan vows, like there’s no question. “I mean, the pets there are all into those stupid leather masks, which like, hey…I don’t discriminate.” He looks at Ilya and lifts one hand in a half shrug, the other still wrapped around Shane. “But it freaks me out. Plus, some of the heads are so big. I mean…that’s gotta be heavy. Anyway,” he sighs. “Point is, none of them are real cats like Shane.”

-

Real cats like Shane.

Shane lets the words roll around his head for a bit, lets the warm feeling extend all over his body as he clings to his friend. To Shane, Ivan was incredibly safe. He’s one of the only people who knew Shane from back when he very first started in the scene, and Ivan had been there through the many stages of Shane’s development. It felt full-circle to have him here, too. Especially since Ivan had stood by him through his toughest times—like the assault and his panic attack at the first Fire & Ice event.

“Well, you are welcome at Drift any time,” Ilya responds. “I am sure we will do a pet play event here soon enough. After Shane gives his demo and convinces everyone that he is the cutest kitten in the entire world. C’mere, котёнок,” he requests, and Shane pushes his way out of Ivan’s arms to dive back into Ilya’s, feeling extra excited to show off now that he knows his friend will be here to witness it.

Ivan was a demo-worthy sub, after all, and Shane had always envied that about him. He envied the ease at which Ivan seemed to manipulate himself across kinks, the way being a sub came almost naturally to him, even though Shane knew, in reality, he had been at it for many years. But pretty soon, Shane would be a demo sub too, and that meant that he was in the big leagues now. He feels like a superhero kitty.

“You wanna go see the new mask I got you, sweetheart?” Ilya asks him next.

Hell yeah, Shane wanted his mask. He needed his superhero kitty disguise, after all. He needed to save this club with the miracle of pet play. He needed to defeat the evil non-believers to make the whole world a better place—a more loving, more open, more accepting place.

“I have to go get him ready, but if we do not see you before, we will see you after, okay?” Ilya addresses Ivan. “You have Wes’ number. He should be here in the next hour or so. The playroom with the red door is all yours for the evening.”

“Thanks, Rozy,” Ivan nods his understanding, and Shane appreciates the way he gives him a little salute, appreciates that he hasn’t tried to hug Ilya or give him a handshake in greeting. Ivan was aware enough to realize that Shane would not take kindly to anyone trying to touch his owner right now.

Shane was locked in tonight. He had one main goal, really:

Be good for Ilya.

He had to achieve it, and although Ilya told him that coloring wasn’t a failure, it still felt like one.  The stakes tonight are high. Shane’s prepared to do whatever he has to in order to keep himself in check. It was merely a simple set of pre-rehearsed tricks. Ilya would give him clicks, and eventually, treats. There would be kneeling, and pets, and lots of praise, and the best part of all was that all Shane had to do was shut his mind off and be a kitty. It might be the thing he’s best at in this world, second only to hockey. But he’s been playing hockey for a very long time now, and he’s only really been a kitten for a matter of months, so he thinks his growth trajectory is pretty strong and promising. He was poised to be the best kitten in the world in no time; to Ilya, he already was.

“You are happy to see Ivan, baby?” Ilya double-checks as they make their way to his playroom. “I figured it might make you feel more comfortable knowing one of your real pet friends is nearby, hm?”

Shane pokes his tongue out in confusion because Ivan wasn’t a real puppy as far as he was concerned, not like Troy was, but Ivan was one of his real sub friends. A lot more than Troy so far, which is why Shane’s excited to have both.

It pulls a laugh out of Ilya, who hugs Shane close to his side. “You are ridiculously silly, did you know that? Troy and Harris are coming too, okay? They’re very excited to see how good you are for me. The other boys as well.”

Shane feels determination wash over him. This was his chance to show Troy how pawesome being a pet could be. If he did a good job, he might have a new puppy friend before the night is up.

-

“You’re going to do a great job,” Ilya tells him indulgently as he unlocks his playroom and ushers Shane inside.

There’s a new mattress this time, and a mattress pad…just in case they have any other accidents going forward because, yeah. That had been fucking hot, and Ilya would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in exploring it further. Any excuse to control another part of Shane’s autonomy, since he still hadn’t figured out how to control the rate at which Shane’s blood flowed through his body.

Shane is quiet for the time being, but Ilya doesn’t mind. He’s getting into kitten mode, and Ilya knew exactly what he was doing by having Ivan there to greet Shane ahead of the event. He knew Ivan would give Shane the confidence boost he needed to perform in front of others, and maybe with Ivan here, Shane also felt like he had a little something to prove. Ivan was Ilya’s choice demo sub at Hush, after all, so he knew Shane would be properly motivated to stand against him. Especially since Shane was confident in the fact that he was muchmore of a pet than Ivan could ever be. Anyone with eyes could see that, actually.

“Alright, angel. It is going to be exactly like we talked about. We’re going to start with your cock cage, yes?” Ilya reminds him, giving Shane’s hair a little ruffle. He smiles when Shane immediately presses up into his hand to lean into the petting. “You are being so good for me already, котёнок. Keep it up and you will get lots of clicks and treats from me tonight. And then, if you are super good, maybe I will bring out some toys so Troy can play with you.”

Shane goes crazy at that idea, scraping his claws all over Ilya as he attempts to attack him with kitten licks.

“Oh, you are more excited to see Troy than you are to see Ivan, hm?” Ilya hums in pleased awareness. “I know, baby. He’s your very best friend, isn’t he? He loves you very, very much. We are lucky to have such nice friends who are so good to us.”

Shane yips in agreement, his eyes bright as he spins in a circle on the couch before coming to a proper sit on his hands and knees, his head tipped slightly while he awaits Ilya’s next instruction.

“Wow. You are on your best behavior tonight, aren’t you?” Ilya notes fondly, giving Shane a preemptive click, click. “Good boy.”

He didn’t want to run through their entire scene at the risk of tuckering Shane out—pet play could be physically exhausting, after all—but for all intents and purposes, this would be a rehearsal for them of sorts; similar to any one of their warm-ups. Ilya needed Shane in the perfect headspace if they were to make it through tonight with no issues, but they were getting so much better at communication lately. Ilya, in particular, was getting much better at reading Shane, including his non-verbal kitten cues.

“You ready for your cage, angel?” Ilya asks, taking pleasure in the way Shane perks up excitedly. He’s expressing himself with more cat mannerisms than usual, and Ilya hopes it’s a good sign. He hopes it means Shane is locked into being the best kitty he can be.

Ilya is surprised when Shane leaps off the couch on all fours because his kitten wasn’t usually one for crawling, but today, he walks himself over to the playroom bathroom like it’s second nature. Ilya thinks if he had his tail on, it would probably be swishing proudly behind him.

“Wow, look at this prim kitty walking on his paws. You are going to get your paw gloves and socks today too, kitten.” Shane was well aware of that. They’d even had a full dress rehearsal in Shane’s kitty playroom earlier in the week, just to ensure there were no surprises.

Still, Shane perks up at every revelation, almost like his kitty brain is catching up to things his human brain already knows.

Shane’s good the entire time Ilya puts his cage on him. He’s not hard, so Ilya doesn’t have to cool him off first with a cold towel, which makes the whole process a lot quicker. He locks off Shane’s cage with the key and then slips it into his back pocket, leaning close to give Shane a peck on the nose, but Shane has other ideas, and Ilya laughs when he practically jumps up to lick across his face.

“Someone is very, very excited. I cannot believe how sweet you are being,” Ilya comments with a shake of his head, giving Shane another hair ruffle. “I figured you would need some more time to warm up, but you have been looking forward to this all week, haven’t you, котёнок?” Because Shane’s restlessness seemed much more adrenaline-fueled rather than spurred on by nerves.

Shane just tips his head and smiles at Ilya.

“Mm, that’s okay. That just means I get to spend some more time with you before everyone else arrives. Want your ears, baby?”

Shane’s tongue hangs out of his mouth excitedly, so Ilya gestures him closer, leading him back into the main part of the playroom with his hand wrapped around Shane’s paw. He bestows a medium pair of kitten ears upon Shane—one white with black speckles, the other black with white speckles. He looks exactly like their dotted save-the-dates they just picked out. Shane practically tackles him back onto the sofa to attack him with licks.

“Okay, okay, get all of your energy out now,” Ilya grins, petting over Shane’s back while he fends off the onslaught of kitten kisses. “You cannot be this riled up for me during the demo, kitty. Remember there are parts where I will be talking and I need you to be a good boy for me.”

Shane lets out a rumbling purr like he considers himself to be a very good boy indeed.

“God, you are just pure kitten today,” Ilya sighs, letting himself soften back into the couch as he takes in the feeling of Shane’s weight on top of him. A nice, warm lapful of kitten. What more could Ilya ask for?

Shane takes advantage of Ilya’s lowered defenses, inching up real close to his face to start giving him a thorough licking over his cheeks, like he’s grooming Ilya’s poor excuse for a beard, which was really only a few extra days of stubble. Shane’s tongue is minty like the mouth wash he used right before they left, leaving a cooling effect on Ilya’s face that is driving him wild. He closes his eyes and takes in the feeling; the air buzzing, creating shiver bumps on his skin.

“Fuck,” Ilya murmurs, his fingers carding through Shane’s hair as he tips his head back, slyly guiding Shane towards his neck. He moans in surprise when Shane licks over his Adam’s Apple, working his way across Ilya’s jawline, before arriving at his ear. “Jesus, котёнок. You are so fucking hot.” Ilya pulls Shane flush against him, grinding up against the rigidness of Shane’s cock cage. “Holy fuck.”

Shane whines softly and rubs his face all over Ilya’s saliva-covered neck, letting his plush lips catch on Ilya’s skin, though he makes no move to plant any human kisses. His mind doesn’t work like a human’s right now; it works like a kitten’s. Ilya will never get over how fucking much it turns him on.

He grips Shane’s ass in his hands and realizes there’s power in having Shane writhe on top of him completely naked while Ilya is still fully dressed. It’s like a pet and their owner should be. All the stars are aligning for their demo this evening, and Ilya feels more connected to Shane than ever.

They spend the next hour like that. Shane licks Ilya slowly and thoroughly to his heart’s content. Ilya pets over his pretty bare skin, doling out kisses every time Shane gets close enough to reach. Eventually, Shane works his way into the tiny spot next to Ilya, curling himself into the smallest little ball in order to make himself fit. Ilya just watches in amusement, gliding his hand warmly over Shane’s back once he’s gotten himself settled. Shane’s purring doesn’t let up the entire time.

-

Luca has no idea what to expect when he walks into Intro to BDSM night. He’s been to Drift once before, but not when the club was fully up and running, so naturally, there are a lot more people here than there was last time. He already feels out of his depth.

“Haas!” Someone bellows, and when Luca turns in the direction of the voice, he spots Troy with his hands cupped around his mouth. “Over here.” He waves him over, Harris watching with a soft smile at his side.

Luca looks down at his outfit one more time before taking a deep breath and going to meet them.

“It’s good to see you here,” Troy comments, causing Luca to bite at his lower lip in mild confusion.

“It is?” He wonders, taking another cursory glance around. He doesn’t think he looks like he belongs here, not the way everyone else seems to. Even Troy almost had this glow about him underneath the club lights.

It’s clear that not everything is in full spin right now, but there is a DJ playing some music, and all of the effects are still as trippy as Luca remembers them. He blinks in sudden awareness as a shadowed shark passes by one of the walls, the club practically vibrating with the force of it.

“I know. These effects are crazy, right?” Harris says to him. “I’ll never get over how cool this place is.”

“Rozy’s insane.” Troy shakes his head before smiling widely at Luca. “Are you excited for your first night? Do you think you’re looking for a sub or a Dom?”

“Troy,” Harris snorts, tugging him closer by the hand.

“What?” Troy frowns, glancing between the two of them.

Luca just flushes. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead, really, but deep down, he knows the answer. It wasn’t Domming that Luca dreamed about when he woke up desperate and frantic and craving something that he still didn’t quite have a name for.

“I…um, don’t know,” Luca admits instead, ducking just in case the lie is somehow visible on his face. “I’m mostly just looking for someone to talk to.” And well, that part is maybe truer than he would care to admit.

“Oh.” Troy’s face falls slightly. “Yeah, well. You can always talk to us, bud. Me and Harris are like great listeners,” he offers, swinging Harris’ arm from where their fingers are still intertwined.

Harris nods in agreement, but he appears to understand that Luca is a little uncomfortable with the topic at hand, so he promptly redirects it. “Did Ilya tell you about the event tonight? I think it’s going to be three or four different kinds of kinks demoed, and then some general safety info.”

“Well, pet play has got to be one of them,” Troy states obviously, so obviously that Harris rolls his eyes and playfully pokes him in the stomach in reprimand. “Hey,” Troy snickers, batting Harris’ hands away from him.

“You’re such a doofus.” Harris shakes his head; however, his face is nothing but fond.

“What do you think they’re going to show for the pet play?” Luca wonders aloud, glancing in the direction of the stage, which they still seem to be in the midst of setting up with sound equipment.

“Tricks, I think,” Troy muses, like maybe Shane has given him somewhat of a heads up.

As far as Luca knew, the two of them were getting pretty close. Luca didn’t have someone like that on the team, someone who was his person. Not like a lot of the other guys did, at least. He supposed he and Ilya were getting decently close, and him and Shane, but it didn’t stop him from wanting someone who was solely his own. He’s hoping to find that here tonight.

“I know it’s nothing too sexual. Ilya made it clear he’s not willing to cross that boundary with some of the other guys present,” Harris adds.

Luca’s blood runs cold. Was he one of the other guys? Did Ilya categorize him in a whole separate category than Troy and Harris? Was it because Ilya and Shane didn’t like him? Did they think he wasn’t actually queer just because he hadn’t kissed a boy yet? Or was it something else? Had Shane had a bad experience with him? Fuck, maybe Luca should have told Wyatt off for saying that thing about the sexual assault. Maybe he should have made his stance more clear—the fact that he supported Shane whole-heartedly.

“You know how Bood and Hazy can be,” Harris says to him after a moment of Luca just staring at him in silence, probably looking like a deer in headlights. “They mean well, but like. They can be a little ignorant about this sort of thing. Plus, some of the comments they’ve made. I doubt Ilya will let them go to any of the partner events.”

“Hey,” Troy frowns. “They could be on their best behavior tonight, for all we know. Ilya wouldn’t let them around Shane period if he didn’t think it was safe.”

“Doesn’t matter, pup. After what they said about Shane being a hall pass…” Harris winces. “I don’t know that there’s any coming back from that.”

Luca watches in curiosity as Troy goes quiet, his cheeks flushing all the way up to his ears. “The guys say stupid shit all the time,” Luca mutters his agreement because some days it could feel like hockey was downright rooted in homophobia. Some days it was so suffocating to his sexuality that he just wanted to scream.

“Well, they mean well,” Troy pipes up, like he’s found his voice again. “Trust me. Those guys on my old team—and those stupid fucking Voyageurs—they are the real assholes. We’re lucky to have the guys we do. And we’re damn lucky to have Ilya and Shane.”

Luca’s lips curl into a quiet smile, feeling some of the tension and fear slip out of him. He’s in good company. He’s with guys who see him. He’s at a freaking BDSM club with his teammates, for crying out loud. A club owned by his childhood idol who had turned out to be in love with a man. A man who was Shane freaking Hollander.

“Hell yeah, we are,” Luca voices, a thrum of excitement running through him when Harris and Troy both give him a look that feels a lot like approval.

“We should get Luca a drink,” Troy suggests, pointing in the direction of the bar. He turns to Harris like he’s waiting for his input.

“Luca?” Harris says, to him this time. “Do you want a drink?”

“Oh, um.” Luca blinks, glancing over at the bar to find it’s only inhabited by a few people. He doesn’t know if drinking at this event is a good idea, doesn’t really know what to expect—from others around him, but also from himself and how he’ll react to things. He wishes he could get someone else’s input, but he certainly doesn’t feel comfortable asking Harris either. Not with the way Troy is looking at him. “Sure,” he says finally, after what must have been an awkward minute of silence. “A drink would be good.”

It’s how he winds up listening in on a conversation next to him at the bar, two men who are apparently taking part in this evening’s demo. Luca badly wants to turn and look at them directly, but he can’t figure out how to without immediately being found out. Luckily, something else happens first.

“Ivan?” Troy tips his head, and Luca holds his breath at the idea that Troy might actually know these people. The idea that Luca could know people like this if he started to come here more often. People who might be exactly like him.

“Holy shit,” a laugh sounds out behind him, and so Luca, finally, at long last, allows himself to turn around and look.

The man Troy must be addressing is sitting furthest away, much smaller in stature than the man next to Luca. Luca tries to keep his eyes from drinking in greedy gulps of the sight before him as his cheeks heat up at the idea of being so close to two very attractive men. He should be more used to it by now, considering all the handsome men who are on his team, but he isn’t. In fact, he feels as flustered as ever.

“Troy? No way, dude! It’s good to see you. And, Harris, was it? It’s awesome you guys are here.” Ivan places his hand on the shoulder of the man next to him. “This is Wes. He’s going to be my scene partner for tonight’s demonstration.”

“I’m Luca,” he finds himself blurting, flashing a nervous, crooked smile in response. It’s directed to the two of them, but mostly to Wes, and Luca feels something rush through him when Wes pauses to look him up and down, eyes roaming over Luca’s entire body. His lips pull into a perfect half smile a second later when they eventually land back on Luca’s face.

“Hi, Luca. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he answers just as quickly. He hardly even notices as Troy and Harris make their introductions as well.

“You must be excited about the pet play demo.” Ivan wiggles his eyebrows. “Wes and I will be doing the restraint demo, so if you have any questions after, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“What happened to Cedric?” Troy tips his head, and the tone in which he says it is enough to have Luca cluing back into the conversation.

“Who’s Cedric?” He frowns, glancing between them.

“Cedric is my Dom back in Montreal,” Ivan fills in, gesturing somewhere far off with his hand. “He’s working, so he wasn’t able to make it this time, but that’s why Rozy set me up with Wes here.”

Luca’s eyes drag back over to him. Wes. He looks like a Disney prince. He looks like a rugged Disney prince who could tear him apart. Fuck. Was that what Luca wanted? Did he want someone to tear him apart? He quickly averts his eyes when Wes catches him staring.

The bartender comes around, prompting them to order their drinks. Luca doesn’t really know what’s good, so he does the dumb thing and orders the same as Wes and Ivan. It tastes like petroleum and burns like battery acid as it goes down. He clutches onto the edge of the bar while coughing loudly.

“You alright, there?” Wes laughs, patting him on the back as Luca tries to get control of his breathing.

The weight of the heavy hand on him is enough to pull his focus back to the present, his skin throbbing through his shirt at the point of contact.

“Yeah, Rozy’s Russian vodka is no joke,” Ivan teases, though he downs nearly half of his drink in one go.

“Is this what Shane’s always drinking?” Luca winces, probably making a super unattractive face in the presence of all these super attractive men. He flushes and attempts to school his features into something more visually appealing.

“Shane is hardcore,” Ivan smirks. “He may not come across it at first glance, but he’s one of the most badass subs I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of subs.”

“Shane’s the best,” Troy agrees with a lazy smile, leaning heavily against Harris, who pulls him close. “I know his demo is going to rock.”

“I would be so nervous if I were him,” Luca admits, shaking his head.

“And what would you be demoing?” Wes asks him playfully, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh,” Luca stutters, tripping over his words. “No, nothing. I don’t…well,” he pauses, eyebrows pressed together. “I’ve never—”

“It’s Luca’s first time at Drift. First time since it officially opened, anyway,” Harris fills in helpfully, and Luca exhales some of his anxiety.

“These boys are good friends with Rozy and his sub,” Ivan explains to Wes. “They’re a little newer to the scene.”

“Not as new as some of the other guys,” Troy boasts proudly, smirking up at Harris from where his head is tipped back against the other’s chest.

“Oh, I didn’t realize your other teammates were coming!”

“Just Bood and Hazy,” Harris clarifies. “Their partners are interested in learning more, so you’ll get to meet Cassie and Lisa, too.”

“I was beginning to think your entire team was gay or something,” Ivan laughs loudly.

Luca swallows and forces himself to take another sip of his drink as Ivan clings to Wes. It’s fine. It’s not like anything was going to happen there anyway. Luca’s had a million half-second-long crushes on a million semi-cute guys before and nothing ever, ever came of it. He was beginning to think it may just be easier to find a girlfriend at this point, but that almost came even less naturally to him than this did. Luca probably just needed to come to terms with the fact that he was generally pretty hopeless at this kind of thing.

“It feels like that sometimes,” Harris grins in return. “With Rozy as Captain and everyone being half in love with Shane.”

Luca wasn’t half in love with Shane, though. Well…he wasn’t not half in love with Shane; mostly, he just envied him. He envied that Shane was not only the best player in the league, but that he also had a super loving and devoted boyfriend who thought the world of him. Luca, not for the first time this season, is just wondering when it’s going to be his turn.

“Yeah. It’s almost like Cassie and Lisa need to be the Doms to keep their men in check,” Troy jokes, and the group of them break out in laughter.

“Hey, you never know. Those ladies run a tight ship.”

Luca smiles to himself. He’s glad he’s around people who seem to share some of his inner turmoil, whether it’s in the past or in the present. Everyone here, at least, has probably felt his struggle at one point or another.

They’ve migrated over to an area with couches by the time Wyatt and Bood actually do arrive. Wes plops down right next to Luca and stretches a big arm across the sofa behind him. Luca drinks more of his poison drink to keep himself from making noises that do not form actual human words. But Wes’ cologne is radiating off of him like its own form of intoxication, and with all the other chaos happening around him, it’s the most present thought on Luca’s mind.

“This place is awesome,” Cassie says in amazement.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this,” Lisa nods while taking a look at the aquarium wall.

“Roz is fucking nuts,” Bood grins.

“That’s what happens when your boyfriend is a cat, I guess,” Wyatt whistles his agreement.

“Fiancé,” Troy and Harris correct fiercely.

Wes offers Luca a private smile, so Luca forces one back while simultaneously spilling his drink all over himself.

“You’re a mess, aren’t you?” Wes smiles, but he makes no move to help Luca clean up.

When Luca looks down at himself, he can see that his white shirt is nearly see-through from the mishap. “Yeah. Fuck. Um, I should probably go to the bathroom or something.”

Wes shrugs, glancing at his watch. “Demos are about to start. You came here to learn, didn’t you?”

Luca just stares back at him with wide eyes. “I— um. Yeah…I mean, sort of.”

Wes’ lips curl even further at the edges. “Then, just stay put. It’ll dry.”

Luca blinks a few times, his gaze drifting from his shirt back to Wes’ brown eyes again. “Yeah. Okay,” he nods jerkily.

“Good,” Wes comments, reaching for Luca’s glass to down the remainder of the liquid. He licks his lips after finishing it off and then offers Luca a quick wink, depositing the empty glass on the table once he’s done.

Luca swallows heavily and does his best to keep from squirming under the heavy gaze.

-

Shane is feeling like the most fancy kitty cat in the world right now. He has his black gloves and socks on—the ones with alternating pink and black toe beans that still allow for his fingers to poke through in case he feels like scratching. He’s in the silkiest pair of pants, one with a hole in the back to make space for his tail, which is a harness this time. It’s a big fluffy black and white tail that swishes when Shane crawls. He doesn’t even have to keep himself under control because there’s no plug buried inside of him. No, right now, Shane is pure kitten. Not a sexy kitten either. Just a kitten kitten.

Ilya has presented him with the most beautiful kitten eye mask. It’s mostly white with black spots all over and a pink nose that breaks off into six wiry whiskers, three on each side. When Shane wrinkles his nose, sometimes the mask will move and he can feel the whiskers twitch against his face. It makes him want to do it often just to get the full effect.

He’s got on a super comfortable zip-up hoodie with half his chest and Ilya’s collar proudly on display. It’s silk on the inside, but has big, fluffy black cat ears on the hood. Ilya says it’s just in case Shane feels more comfortable with his hood up during the demo, so he can still feel like a proper kitty cat if he needs to cover the ears in his hair. Shane’s not worried about any of that, though. If anything, he’s excited. Determined. This is his chance to prove that he’s a big boy cat who can achieve many things. At the very least, he could be the best kitty cat at Ilya’s club. What kind of sub would he be for his owner otherwise? His Dom is the fucking boss around here. Shane had to prove he was very well-behaved.

“Alright, baby. How are you feeling?” Ilya asks, looking him over one more time before giving Shane’s hair a ruffle.

Shane meows and spins in a circle. He’s having lots of fun being on his hands and knees. He’s been doing it a lot more during their training sessions in preparation for tonight, and he can’t deny the thrilling way in which it shifts his mindset.

“I have one more thing for you,” Ilya mentions lightly, causing Shane to pause suddenly in anticipation as his owner pulls out a long, thick gold chain with a clip attachment. His eyes go wide at the realization. It looks like a leash. “Now, this is mostly symbolic. Your collar is special and fragile, and I have no intention of tugging at you, but you will look so much more like a nicely trained kitty cat with it on, hm? And that is what tonight is about, right? We are putting on a show.”

Shane yips excitedly, trying to lick at Ilya’s face when the other bends down to hook the chain onto his collar. There’s a loop at the other end which Ilya wraps his hand through, and Shane’s tummy flutters at how owned it makes him feel. He rubs his masked face all over Ilya’s, mewling softly at the way his whiskers catch on the other’s scruff.

“Very good. Now, show me what you are going to do when I say sit.”

Shane immediately sits back on his hind legs, his paws placed directly in front of him. He tilts his head a little to look extra cute and even pretends there’s an audience watching him to put on some additional pressure. With his mask on, he likely won’t be able to see anyone in his peripherals; he’ll be too focused on Ilya while he’s doing tricks, but during Ilya’s speeches, his curiosity was sure to get the better of him. Plus, he really, really wants to make sure Troy is watching him. He wants Troy to see how fucking good Shane can be for his owner.

Click, click.

Shane jumps in place, his ears perking up at the sound.

“Good boy,” Ilya chuckles, petting Shane’s hair. “You are so good with your clicker training, baby. And then what’s going to happen? I’m going to give you a treat, right?”

Ilya offers him a freeze-dried raspberry, and Shane makes a delighted sound, pressing his tongue against Ilya’s palm to lick the treat right up. It’s an explosion of flavor in his mouth, causing Shane to swish his tail excitedly while his cock stays neatly contained in its cage.

“You are just the perfect pet, aren’t you?”

Shane preens, overjoyed with the surplus of praise. He and his owner have had a lot of dedicated time together today, which is helping him to feel like the perfect level of kitten.

“Alright, sweetheart. Is it almost time for us to do our demo? Remember, when we get on stage, I am going to talk for a few minutes to explain a little bit about pet play. I just want you to kneel quietly next to me until we start with the clicker training exercise. I have some treats and toys for you if you’re good for me. And then, once we’re done, we can go see Troy and Ivan.”

Shane purrs loudly and wraps himself around Ilya’s legs, trapping his owner in his tail before he collapses onto the ground and rolls over, rubbing himself all over the soft material of the rug.

Ilya shakes his head fondly and drops down to meet him, sliding his hand under the fabric of Shane’s hoodie so he can pet his tummy.

Shane just watches him with satisfied slow blinks, drinking in every ounce of attention he can get. He wiggles elatedly, dragging his fur against the fluffy material.

“You are being so silly, котёнок. Are you ready to go show everyone how good you can be for me?”

Shane nods his head, fluttering his eyelashes at Ilya from behind his cat mask.

“That’s my good kitten. You have worked very hard in your training, okay? I know you are going to do a great job. Just focus on me when we are out there, hm? I want you focused solely on your owner.”

Shane can do that. Ilya is the only one he cares about anyway. He wants to prove his dedication to his owner once and for all. As far as Shane is concerned, everything else is just background noise.

“Alright, baby. On your feet. I do not want you crawling until we get to the nice kneeling pad, yes? I will have to get you some knee pads if you want to crawl more often. I will not mess up my performance kitten’s knees.”

Shane purrs as Ilya scruffs him by the back of the neck in order to pull him to his feet. The moment he’s close enough, he rubs his cheek across Ilya’s shoulder, closing his eyes to focus on the sensation of his whiskers brushing over Ilya’s bare arm.

“Good job, angel. Now hold my hand while we walk out, please. You are at exactly the right level of kitten space. Just stay exactly like that and you will be the absolute best cat for me.”

Ilya’s voice is at that delicious cadence where Shane feels like he could sink deep into his words and float away. He slips his paw into Ilya’s waiting hand, continuing to lean on him and rub against him as Ilya leads him out of the playroom. He can hear noise coming from the direction of the club, what sounds like someone speaking into a microphone, and Shane’s cat ears twitch in curiosity.

“Ivan and Wes should be finishing up the restraint portion. We will go on after them,” Ilya tells him softly.

Shane rumbles from deep within when he feels fingers carding through his hair. He pushes up into the touch aggressively, digging his claws into Ilya’s bicep to try and perfect the angle where he wants Ilya to scratch at him. He moans softly when Ilya takes the hint, his cock twitching in its cage at the sensation of blunt nails scraping across his scalp. He pretends his ears are reacting along with him.

“Easy, sweetheart. Let’s stay playful,” Ilya reminds him, pressing a kiss into Shane’s hair, so Shane just claws at Ilya’s clothes in hopes of working his way further into the other’s grip. “Okay, I think they are ready for us,” Ilya whispers, squeezing the back of Shane’s neck in a dominating gesture.

The weight of the leash on his collar feels weird, but Shane likes the way it tethers him to Ilya as they walk through to the main room. He likes that it gives a clear indication of who his owner is, that Shane’s in no danger of running off somewhere on his own without snapping right back.

He keeps his hand in Ilya’s the entire time they’re on their way to the stage. Ilya stops to talk to someone on the side, and Shane blinks in curiosity as the person puts something onto Ilya’s shirt. Ilya taps it once, causing a small boom sound to ring out, so Shane darts and worms himself under Ilya’s arm just in case there’s a threat. Ilya turns to acknowledge him with a kiss right on his pink kitten nose, and Shane reacts by licking him across the cheek.

“Good boy,” Ilya murmurs.

When he’s done getting mic’d up, he leads Shane up on stage. Shane is pleased to find there’s a nice, fluffy rug, one that he can’t wait to dive into, but he’s being good, waiting for Ilya’s command. He keeps his eyes trained to Ilya as his owner reaches for a nice pillow and places it on the rug.

“Down, котёнок,” Ilya tells him, and Shane falls to his knees on top of the pillow. There’s a rattle of his gold chain leash as he does so.

Click, click.

“Good boy, baby,” Ilya praises, looking down at him with a smile.

Shane nudges up into Ilya’s hand when it comes down to pet his hair. He presses his cheek against the fabric of Ilya’s jeans, nuzzling into him while the other gives him a myriad of scratches.

“Thank you all for joining us for Intro to BDSM night,” Ilya’s thick accent ricochets through the speakers.

Shane purrs on his own accord, shutting his eyes so he can focus on the vibrations running through Ilya rather than the crowd of people in front of him. He’s got one of his arms wrapped around Ilya’s leg, his paw right on top of Ilya’s shoe as he rests heavily against him.

“We have a lot of members who are new to the scene and interested in learning more, so I hope this evening has taught you something. Even if you have been in the scene for years now, like I have, it is my belief that you should continue trying to educate yourself. There is a lot to be discovered from other pairings, and you may stumble upon something that you never suspected you might be into. For me, that came in the form of pet play,” Ilya introduces. “So, today, I’m excited to be demoing with my котёнок. We are going to go through some of the basics, and then give you a quick demonstration on clicker training. We will be around after, along with the rest of your demo leaders, if you have any questions.”

Shane’s lips curl into a little kitten smile, his claws making biscuits on their own accord in the fabric of Ilya’s jeans. He leans further into his owner, wiggling his hips a bit just to feel the way his tail swishes behind him.

“So, for those who are not familiar, pet play is a type of roleplay where the pet—generally the sub, but it can really go either way depending on your dynamic—takes on an animal-inspired headspace. The type of animal does not matter. Some examples of pets I have seen include puppies, kittens, bunnies, ponies, or even a fox.”

Shane mewls softly at the mention of Brooks.

“I have my kitten here with me, and in our case, I am acting as his owner. Some people prefer the word handler, but it is really up to your preference. Either way, the owner or handler serves as a guide to the pet. I would also like to point out that pet play does not require an owner, nor does it have to be sexual. Pet play can absolutely be a non-sexual or even a solo activity. Putting on some ears and taking a nap for an hour as a puppy is just as much pet play as getting head scratches and playing fetch with a frisbee hanging from your mouth. There are really no limits or rules here. Everything is entirely what you make of it.”

Shane is drawn back to the present when Ilya gives him another ruffle of his fur, and Shane’s eyes dart open excitedly when he smells his owner closer to him. As soon as he blinks, he can see Ilya has knelt down beside him. Shane pushes himself into a more proper sitting position, clawing at Ilya’s knee to get him to sit down fully on the rug.

“Okay, котёнок, okay. I am sitting,” Ilya laughs, petting over Shane’s back this time while getting settled. “As you can see, he is very excited. Since we are going to be demoing some tricks for you, my kitten is in more of a playful mood, but pets can take on different types of headspaces depending on the activity.”

Once Ilya is close enough to the ground, Shane places his paws on his owner’s thigh and pushes against him excitedly, getting one swipe of his tongue across Ilya’s neck.

“So, let’s talk about gear and some of the pet behaviors you’re seeing. If you look closely, you’ll notice my kitten is wearing clip-in ears. For my котёнок, his ears are an essential item that lets him know he is safe to go in his kitten headspace. When he is wearing them, it means that he is acting as my pet, and I am acting as his owner. This is just what works for us, but not every pet wants to wear ears. For some, they may not need any gear at all,” Ilya explains, his hand petting succinctly through Shane’s hair and down his back.

Shane pushes further into his lap, feeling like a cuddly, slinky cat as he falls forward to rub his cheek against the fabric of Ilya’s thigh. He purrs when Ilya just meets him where he’s at, going with the flow while keeping a grounding hand on Shane.

“Since me and my pet are in a committed arrangement, a collar has a very special meaning to us. My kitty wears his collar every day, and this serves as a continuous reminder of our dynamic. It is a subtle way of acknowledging our relationship, of acknowledging my ownership over him. For collars like this, you’ll want something that is comfortable enough for everyday wear, as well as something that won’t draw too much attention while wearing it in public.”

Ilya gives Shane’s collar a little tug while showing it off to the crowd.

“A collar might be more meaningful to some than it is for others. For certain pairings, it is as important as a wedding ring; for others, it might just be a temporary symbol to indicate that the scene has started. In that case, when the collar comes off, the pet knows that it’s time to start going back into a human mindset. I will say it is helpful to have at least some sort of indicator for when it is okay to be a pet versus when the pet should return to being human. So, this can be a collar; it can be ears; a special pair of socks; whatever you want, really.”

Ilya holds Shane’s gold leash up next, and as the chain dangles in front of him, Shane can’t help but reach up and swat at it. There’s a flurry of laughter from the audience, which makes Shane’s tummy flutter wildly and his cat eyes go big. He doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing.

Luckily, Ilya gives him a click, click before he can wonder for too long.

“Like I said, very playful,” Ilya laughs along with them, but he scratches his fingers through Shane’s hair just right, and Shane practically melts into the gesture. “The leash is new to us. My котёнок does not crawl very often, mostly because his owner is a little neurotic and worries about him hurting his knees.” Another round of laughter. “But if you are going to use a leash, make sure you are not tugging. The leash and collar should be purely symbolic as the neck area is very sensitive. The hands and knees should be treated with the same level of care, too. Knee-pads or a nice pillow if your pet is going to be kneeling for you, and for the wrists, there are plenty of good gloves on the market that can offer relief.”

Ilya holds Shane’s paw up for reference, and Shane flexes his blue ocean fish claws on instinct.

“Lastly, on my котёнок here, you’ll see he has this nice, long, fluffy tail attachment. This one is a harness that he has on under his clothes, and he is wearing special pants that accommodate for it. If your play is more sexual, you might consider using a plug with a tail attachment. So, as you can see, there are lots of options when it comes to gear. It’s really up to what works for you and your partner.”

Shane is getting a little restless in Ilya’s lap, especially since he was promised treats and toys, so he sits up to paw at his owner’s chest.

“Yes, baby. It is almost playtime, I promise,” Ilya tells him fondly, petting Shane’s hair extra nice this time. “Alright, there is one more thing I want to point out before we get into our activity. I’m not sure if you noticed, but my kitty does not like to speak when he is in this headspace. This means that we have to have another boundary in place, one that ensures we will still be able to communicate with each other. Does anyone know what that might be?”

Ilya pauses, and for a second, Shane doesn’t understand what’s happening. He almost wants to meow to try to figure it out, but before he can do so, he hears a familiar voice.

“A way to color or safeword.”

Shane turns sharply at the sound of the voice, feeling a rush of exhilaration wash through him when he spots who’s at the source of it.

Troy.

Troy, Troy, Troy.

Shane jumps up and meows at Ilya, wondering if Troy can even recognize him through his mask. Shane paws at it to try and push it off.

“Hey, no, kitty,” Ilya redirects him, reaching up to keep Shane’s mask firmly in place. “I know it may not look like it, but my kitten can get a little shy in front of crowds. That is why he is wearing a mask today. He is not used to it and he just realized one of his pet friends is out there. But we have to keep this on, моя любовь.”

The audience laughs again. Meanwhile, Shane wonders if Ilya referring to Troy as a pet means something has shifted. Is Troy a puppy now? Was it official?

“And yes, thank you. You are absolutely correct about needing a non-verbal way to color or safeword,” Ilya circles back. “So, let me show you how I’m going to make sure me and my pet are communicating as we go into our scene. And like any scene, we are going to make sure we have discussed our intentions, boundaries, and limits ahead of time. In this case, we have agreed to a short scene of clicker training. I am going to ask my pet to demonstrate a series of tricks, where I will then explain to you all how the clicker aspect works, and then he is going to receive praise and treats.”

Ilya gestures for Shane to hop off of him, which indicates to Shane that the playtime part of the scene is starting. He immediately spins himself in a circle to show off the swish of his tail before pawing at the pillow beneath him in anticipation.

“Alright, sweetheart. You remember your paw squeezes, yes? Can you show me what we do for green?”

Shane places his paw on Ilya’s extended arm just like they’d practiced and digs his claws into his owner’s skin.

“Good boy. And what do we do for red and yellow?”

Shane dutifully presses his claws into Ilya’s arm once more, keeping them there rather than removing them this time.

“Very good. So, to explain what happened just now, when he is green, he presses his kitten claws into my skin once, and when he is yellow or red, he presses his claws into my skin and holds them there for a few seconds. It is super important to make sure your pet understands this before they go too far into their headspace. No matter how many times you have scened together, it is better to check in than to risk something bad happening. It can be hard to remember these kinds of things when you go too far down, so make sure it is at the forefront of their mind, and when in doubt, you always, always pause the scene.”

Shane meows loudly, swishing his tail impatiently as he waits for Ilya to get on with it already. He’s been waiting to play all day, especially when he knows Ilya has yummy treats for him hiding in his pocket—things that Shane would never allow himself to eat, but in this case, it’s alright because it’s what his owner wants for him. A reward. And to Shane’s brain, for some reason, that makes it okay. It makes it okay for him to want it, too.

“Yes, thank you for keeping me to time, котёнок. Like all cats, he is very bossy,” Ilya jokes to the crowd, smiling down at Shane when they titter in response. “So, with clicker training, essentially you are teaching your pet to associate a sound with a reward. This works well because the clicker reduces time between the behavior and delivery of the reward, making a clearer connection for the pet. It also brings the pet closer to an animal mindset by having them focus on a noise, rather than a word. Remember, their headspace comes from relying on raw instinct. That is what pet play is all about. We want to get rid of human stressors.”

Then, after soooo much talking, Ilya finally, finally turns himself fully to Shane. Shane spins in a circle once before pawing desperately at Ilya’s jeans.

Please, please, please, please.

-

“Meow, meow, meow, meow—”

“Yes, котёнок, I hear you loud and clear,” Ilya laughs, scratching behind Shane’s cat ear as he comes closer. “I promise it is playtime now. You have been on your best behavior for me.”

Shane hadn’t just been on his best behavior; he had also been on his most adorable behavior. Shane was exhibiting a level of kitten space that Ilya hadn’t seen before, almost like the motivation of an audience was sending him further into it. He was a performance kitty, through and through.

“I am going to start off simple. Let’s start with sit,” Ilya commands Shane while also addressing the crowd.

Shane follows the instruction beautifully, maneuvering himself into the proper position with his little paws planted firmly in front of him.

Click, click.

“Good boy,” Ilya compliments. “You’re going to notice I give the sound the moment he completes the trick, and I’m always going to follow up with some type of praise. Whatever works best with you and your pet.” Ilya turns his attention back to Shane. “Give me your paw.”

Shane’s tongue hangs out of his mouth as he places his pretty kitty glove into Ilya’s waiting hand.

Click, click.

“Very good, baby. Let’s do one more and I’ll give you a treat. Can you lie down for me?”

Shane stretches himself into a very performative cat stretch before settling fully onto his stomach, all of his limbs neatly tucked up under him, like he really is just a cat that somehow accidentally ended up in the body of a human.

Ilya rolls his eyes fondly.

Click, click.

“Oh, that’s a very good boy.” Ilya fishes his hand into the bag of treats and produces a fresh blueberry, going down to his knees to offer it up to Shane. He watches in adoration as Shane jumps to attention and immediately dives forward to lick it from Ilya’s hand with his scratchy, little tongue. “Good job, sweetheart.” Ilya cards his fingers through Shane’s hair. “So, after several instances of doing something correctly, followed by praise, I like to give my pet an additional reward as something to work up to. For this activity, I have some treats he likes, such as pieces of fruit. If you have a puppy, you can swap for little cookies, or whatever makes the most sense for you and your pet.”

Ilya then produces a feather toy, stretching his legs out on either side of Shane so his kitten can collapse face-first in his lap before twisting to his back to start pawing at it.

“So, I’m sure most of you are aware of what subspace is by now, but let’s talk a little bit about kitten space. You may refer to it as pet space as a broader term; however, kitten space and puppy space are commonly used throughout the community. This is essentially just another version of subspace, only more pet-centered. You are probably wondering what the difference is.”

Ilya raises the feather a little higher and then tosses it lightly across the stage, watching in satisfaction when Shane shoots up out of his lap to chase after it, his leash dragging along behind him. When he gets close enough, he lowers himself to the floor, raising his butt high in the air like a kitten about to pounce. And then, all of a sudden, Shane jumps up and tackles the feather into the rug, rolling onto his back to hold it between his paws while he chews on the end.

“In any form of pet space, you’re going to see your sub act entirely on instinct. They are more attuned to physical sensations or emotions, and less reliant on complex thought processes. A pet’s mind is very simple. They want to know that they have your attention. They want to know that they are safe, and loved, and cared for. A pet enjoys being dependent on its handler. They like the idea that they have paws instead of opposable thumbs, that it makes it harder for them to achieve certain tasks on their own. All of this is reinforcing a need for someone to take care of them, yes?”

As if on cue, Shane comes catapulting back into Ilya’s arms, practically knocking him back onto the soft rug while simultaneously depositing the feather toy on top of his chest. He licks eagerly at Ilya’s chin.

Click, click.

“Good boy, котёнок. Very good boy.” Ilya pets through Shane’s hair, his heart pumping wildly in his chest when Shane just keeps on licking him. “Of course, all pets are different. But many enjoy typical pet behavior, such as playfulness or licking to show affection.” Ilya squeezes Shane’s hip, steadying him as he pushes himself into a sitting position, pulling Shane fully into his lap this time. “It is not all sunshine and rainbows, though. My kitten is quite the biter, and he has been known to claw at things when he doesn’t get his way. Your pet also might be more sensitive to their environment, like certain sounds or textures, so always be mindful of the parameters of your scene. Some pets enjoy the company of a social setting, whereas others prefer the peacefulness of quality time with their handler, or even solitude if you’re participating in solo play.”

Shane headbutts his neck and whimpers.

“All of this to say, kitten space has some additional factors to consider if you are hoping to send your pet down. Make sure you both are in agreement on what to expect out of a scene before you dive into it. It is always better to over-communicate,” Ilya reaffirms, rubbing his hand down Shane’s back. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a chocolate raspberry, holding it up as a treat to Shane.

Shane purrs loudly, licking up the treat first before laving his tongue all over Ilya’s palm in appreciation.

“So, that’s pretty much all I have for you this evening in terms of pet play. Like I stated at the beginning, there is no right way to do this. If you are someone who enjoys putting on a collar and taking a nap in a dog bed, then congrats, you may be into pet play. If you think it might be nice to have someone curl up next to you with a pair of ears on while you pet their hair, then double congrats because you may be into pet play as a handler or owner—which, if you ask me, is the absolute holy grail of being a Dom,” he adds cheekily. It draws another few laughs from the audience.

Ilya grins and tugs on Shane’s leash lightly, peering at his hazy brown eyes through the slitted holes of his cat mask.

“Thank you all so much for joining us for Intro to BDSM night, and a special thank you to all of our demo-leaders today. If you have any ideas for events or demos that you would like to see, please get in touch with Anastasia.” Ilya points to the woman with the flaming red hair and the no-nonsense eyes. “As always, playrooms are available via the special menu items at the bar. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

The second Ilya switches the microphone on his shirt off, he pulls Shane into a giant hug, rocking his kitten back and forth in his arms. “You did such a good job, baby. Oh my god. I cannot believe how fucking good you were for me. So patient when I was talking and so, so good with your tricks.”

Shane purrs, pressing his paws all over Ilya’s chest as he nuzzles against his jawline.

“Exactly as we rehearsed it. You have no idea how proud I am of you, sweet kitten angel. You are the best kitten in the whole world. So incredible for me, моя любовь. So, so incredible.”

Shane tries to shove at his mask once more, and seeing as most of the audience has dispersed for another round of drinks, Ilya lets him this time. It’s worth it to get to see Shane’s pretty freckles up close after having them hidden away for so long.

Ilya opens his mouth to praise Shane again, but before he can, there’s a new voice that calls out behind him.

“That was so fucking awesome, kitty.”

-

Troy?

Troy! Troy! Troy! Troy!

Shane turns around, his tongue already hanging out of his mouth in excitement as he spots his puppy friend with Harris at the edge of the stage. Without looking away from his teammate, Shane digs his claws into Ilya’s shirt and meows, asking for permission in the only way he can make sense of at the moment.

“Let me get your leash off of you, angel. And be careful with your knees; I do not want you to hurt yourself.”

Shane swishes his tail impatiently while Ilya goes about unclipping his leash, but the second Ilya taps his back as way of approval, Shane takes off in Troy’s direction, collapsing into his friend’s arms as soon as he gets close enough.

“Dude, you’re like so well-trained,” Troy compliments him, and Shane soaks up the praise. “Harris and I couldn’t believe how good you were at the clicker training. I’ve never met a pet who’s more well-trained than you.”

Shane sniffs at his neck eagerly, nipping the skin lightly before laving his tongue over the little bite.

Troy just laughs like it tickles, but he doesn’t make any move to push Shane away, so Shane purrs loudly, head-butting his friend in hopes of getting more attention. He’s practically frantic for it as Troy starts petting his hair.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your tail on before.”

“Is our first time trying the harness. It is a good option for a non-sexual scene,” Ilya chimes in after he and Harris exchange greetings.

“You guys both did a great job,” Harris praises, a warm smile on his face. “We learned a lot. I guess I didn’t realize pet play can be as simple as putting on some ears and getting some head pats.”

Harris and Troy share a look with one another that Shane’s kitten mind doesn’t quite understand. He paws at Troy’s shirt to get his attention once more.

“Yes, hi kitty,” Troy laughs, giving Shane an extra nice pet this time that includes a heavy scratch behind his ears. “You are just the friendliest, cuddliest cat today, aren’t you?”

“Woah, there’s the kitten of the hour,” comes a new voice, and Shane yips at the realization that he has a lot of friends here today. “Holy crap. You were amazing up there.” Ivan grins, opening his arms when Shane dives forward for a cuddle. “Such a brave kitty. You’re a natural on stage.”

“He really is, isn’t he?” Ilya comments, sounding proud.

Shane just nuzzles further into Ivan, trying to figure out where he’s smelled that cologne before.

“What about you, Ivan? How did the restraints demo go? Was Wes alright?” Ilya asks while collecting Shane’s leash and feather toy.

“Oh, Wes is a dream,” Ivan boasts, running his hand in soothing circles over Shane’s back. “He’s a great partner to scene with.”

Shane is still busy investigating his scent with frantic, determined sniffs.

“Is he around here? I would like to say thank you,” Ilya mentions, taking a cursory glance around the room.

“I’m not sure,” Ivan frowns, eyebrows drawn together as he looks in the direction he came from. “He was just here a second ago. Maybe he had to go to the bathroom or something. I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“Rozy!”

Shane’s head swivels quickly at the sound of new voices, and the second he realizes there’s a whole group of people coming towards them, he’s back at Ilya’s side, forcing his way into his owner’s arms.

Ilya fumbles to shove the leash and toy back into his pockets so he can get a better handle on Shane, tipping him right and left before finally settling with Shane perched comfortably in his lap just as Wyatt and Bood make their way over to the stage.

“Okay, dude, first of all, this place looks sick,” Wyatt compliments, gesturing to the immersive atmosphere of the club now that it’s back in full swing. “I don’t know what I was expecting out of tonight, but let me just tell you that Lisa and I are having the best time. Really, really great job setting this all up.”

Shane is hidden in Ilya’s neck, so luckily, he barely registers whatever blah, blah, blah this semi-familiar human is talking about. In fact, it isn’t until he hears his name that one of his cat ears twitches in that direction.

“Shane, buddy! You’re a rockstar! You were totally nailing those tricks up there.”

Shane pokes one slitted cat eye out from Ilya’s neck in order to zero in on the source of the voice, and he’s only a little bit gobsmacked when he comes to find that it’s Wyatt fucking Hayes. Shane’s head pops out fully this time as he tips his head in pet-driven curiosity. What the heck is their star goalie doing in Ilya’s club?

“Котёнок, you know Hazy and Bood. Remember? They are like Troy.” Ilya tries to jog his memory, but nothing he’s saying makes any sense to Shane. How were these people in any way like Troy? Troy is a freaking puppy.

Shane glances over at Troy, finding the other watching him with what looks to be a super friendly smile, so Shane attempts to break out of Ilya’s arms to go back to playing with his favorite pet friend.

“Don’t mind him. He has a one-track mind right now,” Ilya says from somewhere in the distance once he lets Shane go, but Shane is too busy rubbing his head all over Troy’s face to focus on any of that.

“Wow. Good to know he has a clear favorite,” Bood jokes, and Ivan and Harris laugh in agreement. “Seriously, that was really interesting stuff, guys. Me and Cassie might actually go home and try some of it. You know…after we fill out our kink lists.” He winks, like he’s just been indoctrinated into some secret society.

“I am glad you found it useful,” Ilya smiles, sliding himself to the edge of the stage so he can glide a hand over Shane’s back.

Shane purrs at how good it feels to have two people touching him at once. To have everyone around him barely batting an eye at him being a cat. He is a cat; he always has been. Shane just thinks that other people are finally starting to see it, too.

“Did Luca ever make it?” Ilya asks a beat later, his face pinched in slight concern.

“Yeah, he was here,” Troy nods quickly, his hair falling in his eyes as he does so. “Me and Harris were sitting next to him during the demos. I told him we were going to come say hi to you guys, and he said he’d be right over.”

“Huh. Weird,” Ilya replies.

“Oh, he just went down that back hallway,” Hazy mentions, pointing towards the rear of the club.

Ilya raises his eyebrows. “That hallway?” He double-checks. “You are sure?”

“Yeah,” Wyatt frowns, shrugging his shoulders. “He was with some guy. I think it was one of the ones on stage?” Wyatt looks around the group slowly when no one says anything in response. “What? He probably just got lost and couldn’t find the bathroom or something.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’s the bathroom Wes wanted to show him,” Ivan snorts, breaking into a big, knowing grin.

“Well…he did say he was looking to meet people,” Ilya relents, but Shane can tell he feels a little uneasy, so he whines high-pitched in the back of his throat to get his owner’s attention. “Yes, hi, sweetheart. Would you come here already? I should not have to fight Troy Barrett for snuggles from my favorite kitten.”

Shane pouts and lazily stretches himself across Troy to get closer to Ilya. He only gets halfway there before the group around them starts to laugh, and Shane blinks owlishly while taking a cursory glance at everyone.

What is so funny, Shane thinks to himself, but it isn’t long before Ilya has produced a mouse squeaker toy out of seemingly nowhere, causing Shane to pounce on top of him while swishing his tail wildly. He’s back in Ilya’s lap, his claws digging into Ilya’s shoulder as Ilya holds the mouse high above his head.

“Oh my gosh. Is he still acting like a kitten? He’s so cute,” Cassie gushes, stepping over to the group of them. “Thanks so much for having us, Ilya. This is really, really cool.”

“Yeah, and the impact play? That was kind of hot,” Lisa laughs from beside her.

Shane is so sick of listening to these people!!! He wants his fucking mouse!!!!! He yowls loudly into Ilya’s ear to let him know, scraping his claws sharply down Ilya’s arm that’s still raised with the toy.

“Jesus, котёнок!” Ilya says through gritted teeth, pulling Shane back by the scruff of his neck. “You need to settle down. You are playing too rough.”

Shane cowers a little at the tone, letting himself sink further into Ilya’s lap as he watches the other with searching eyes, trying to figure out if he’s in trouble or not. Because Ilya promised he would get to play with Troy if he was good, and Shane has been good. He doesn’t understand why everyone is talking instead of playing with him.

Ilya’s inspecting the underside of his arm like he thinks Shane has actually done some real damage, and Shane doesn’t like the insinuation. He would never hurt his owner. He’s only ever been a silly and playful kitty. Not a harmful kitty. Shane feels tears start to well up in his eyes at the thought.

“Hey, no,” Ilya murmurs, reaching for Shane to wrap his arms around him and pull him close. “It’s okay. It has been a long day. I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

Shane sniffles and tucks his face into Ilya’s neck, feeling scared with all of these people talking around him. He doesn’t have the ability to process it right now. All he knows is that he’s a kitten who was promised a chance to play.

-

Ilya is blind to the rest of their friends with Shane in his lap. His kitten is in distress, and Ilya’s so far in Domspace that he can hardly think clearly because he’s so focused on trying to track the increasing speed of Shane’s heart rate. He knows exactly what the problem is. Shane’s yellow right now. He might not be in the headspace to be able to communicate it, but he’s in need of a pause. Some mid-scene aftercare before Ilya would even consider bringing him back out here.

“You’re alright, angel. It is very noisy out here, yes? I think we need to take a break in my playroom for a few minutes. Why don’t you come with me, hm? Does that sound okay?” Ilya asks softly, his lips pressed to Shane’s ear.

But Shane starts to twist like he’s unsettled, like there’s something else he needs to be doing instead and he won’t stop until he gets what he wants.

“Hey, Ilya, um. Do you think I could talk to you about something?” Harris appears at his side.

“Honestly, it is not a good time. I need to take Shane to my playroom for a bit—”

And then Shane fucking bites him hard on the shoulder. Ilya hisses in pain, letting go of Shane’s hips in favor of clutching onto his now bruising arm while Shane…

Shane is hiding his face in Troy Barrett’s shoulder.

Troy, to his part, just looks up at Ilya in confusion, his gaze darting between him and Harris. “Is he alright?” Troy asks, hesitantly raising his arm to allow Shane to crawl up under it.

Ilya is thankful that the rest of their friends seem too preoccupied in a separate conversation to notice the chaos that has begun to stir. “He is yellow. He needs to come with me.”

Shane lets out a high-pitched whimper and wraps his paws tightly around Troy’s neck, like he’s completely unwilling to be separated from his friend. Which, unfortunately, leaves Ilya with only one other option.

“Jesus Christ. Okay, Troy, Harris, I’m going to need the two of you to come, as well. Quickly, please. Shane,” Ilya says sternly, until Shane snaps to attention to meet his eyeline. “Would you like to play with Troy, baby? We are going back to my playroom to play.”

Shane’s paw-gloved fist comes up to rub at one of his eyes, Ilya’s kitten visibly perking up at the mention of getting to play.

“You can play with him, but only if you come with me. Let me piggyback you to my room and Troy and Harris will follow us there, alright? Can you do that for me?”

Shane lets out an inquisitive little mewl as he glances over at Troy, almost like he doesn’t trust the words that Ilya is saying to him.

“Yeah, kitty. Let’s go with Ilya. We have to get some extra toys so I can play with you, too,” Troy adds with a smile, and Shane seems to be seriously considering that piece. “Here, why don’t you get on Ilya’s back and I can get on Harris’ back? It’ll be kinda like a race,” he offers.

Shane seems to like that idea quite a lot, and Ilya can’t help but feel at ease by how good Troy is with him. If there was anyone he’d be comfortable letting into his playroom, it was certainly Troy and Harris. When he glances back, he sees Harris smiling warmly, too, so Ilya glides his fingers through Shane’s soft fur to get his attention.

“C’mere, baby. Listen to your owner, please. You’ve been so good all day. I need you to keep being good for me.”

Shane whines, possibly at the implication that he’s not being good right now, but Ilya doesn’t care. Shane’s in clear need of a reset, and he wants to get a handle on the situation before Shane realizes that he’s actually red. Ilya was getting much better at anticipating his cues.

So, Shane reluctantly crawls out of Troy’s lap in favor of climbing onto Ilya instead. Ilya, admittedly, is hit with a huge sense of relief the second Shane’s scent is back in his orbit. He tips his head towards Shane to get the other to nuzzle into him, relaxation washing through his body when Shane purrs in response.

“Oh, there’s my very good boy. That’s it. Right with me, sweetheart. You are such a good, good cat, aren’t you?” He can feel Shane smiling into his neck, and Ilya laughs when he nips at him softly in response. “There’s my sweet kitty. I was missing my nice boy. Thank you so much for listening so well. My superstar.”

Next to him, Troy uses the stage to not-so-gracefully jump onto Harris’ back, the other stumbling with the force of it, and then they’re off to the races. Ilya and Shane naturally fall ahead, seeing as Ilya is the only one who actually knows where they’re going, but it’s worth it for the way Shane keeps looking back at Troy, digging his claws into Ilya’s shoulders like he’s really invested in the outcome of this race.

“I’m right behind you, kitty. I’m catching up fast,” Troy declares as they get to the hallway that leads to Ilya’s playroom. Harris, to his part, is just laughing while trying to keep a grip on Troy’s flailing limbs.

When Ilya arrives at his playroom, he makes a big show of pressing one of Shane’s socked kitten paws to the door, holding his own arm up in victory. Shane meows excitedly and rubs his face all over the crook of Ilya’s neck, licking him a few times in quick succession. Ilya tries not to get too lost in the sensation, especially when he’s hyper-aware of the way Shane’s cock cage is digging into his back.

“Damnit. You beat me,” Troy huffs in defeat as he drops off of Harris with a heavy oof. “I blame Harris.”

“Hey,” Harris grins, poking Troy’s tummy and, subsequently, pulling a series of giggles out of him. “Maybe if you were a little more tactile.”

“Tactile,” Troy repeats. “What the fuck is tactile?”

Ilya shakes his head at how ridiculous they are as he unlocks the door and pushes his way inside. He can feel the way the new atmosphere has an instant calming effect on Shane, another purr reverberating through him while he clings tightly to Ilya.

“Good boy,” Ilya murmurs privately to him, stepping into the room to lower Shane onto the big fluffy rug in the middle of the floor. He deposits the kitten first and then goes to turn on the jellyfish light, joining him on the carpet a half second later.

“Holy shit…” Troy comments as the door shuts behind them. “This is like…what is this place?” He asks, looking around the room in amazement.

“My playroom,” Ilya explains, opening his legs wide before pulling Shane in the middle. He unzips Shane’s hoodie and places a grounding hand over his bare abdomen, petting over him in a steady rhythm. Shane’s tension starts to bleed out of him almost immediately as he turns to liquid in Ilya’s arms.

“This is where you and Shane do scenes?” Harris guesses, toeing off his shoes and gesturing for Troy to do the same as they make their way over to the fluffy rug.

“When we are at the club, yes. It is our private space. No one else has ever been in here,” Ilya explains, pressing a line of kisses down Shane’s neck just for the way it makes his eyelids go heavy.

“Wow. It’s amazing.” Harris shakes his head in disbelief. “I imagine you guys have something like this in your house, too?”

Troy carefully crawls onto the carpet, his eyes and curiosity directed at Shane while he watches Ilya have a calming effect on him. “Is he okay?” Troy murmurs, like he’s hyper-aware of the fact that Ilya had said Shane was yellow.

“Mm, yes. He is fine. I just noticed he was getting a little overwhelmed with all the noise. Is a big change to go from being a cat for a mostly quiet audience to suddenly being in a club with lots of music and chatter,” Ilya explains, keeping his tone of voice intentionally light so as not to disturb Shane’s peace. “And yes,” he addresses Harris this time. “This playroom is mine, and Shane has his back at the house. Shane’s is much more kitten-oriented. Is nice for each of us to each have a space that feels like our own.”

Shane rumbles loudly, pushing his head up against Ilya’s scruffy jawline as his big, brown eyes blink up at him.

“Hi, котёнок. You are feeling much more relaxed now, hm?” Ilya smiles, grazing his nails lightly across Shane’s chest in appreciation of the way it makes him shiver. “The club can be a bit noisy for tiny kittens like you. Not a good space for baby kittens to play freely.”

Shane pouts and head-butts himself into one of Ilya’s pecs, pulling a laugh from him.

“I am not sure if you were serious about playtime, but…” Ilya trails, looking over to where Troy is still watching Shane with trained eyes. “I may have promised him he’d get to play with you if he did a good job at the demo. I know he has been looking forward to seeing you all day.”

Troy smiles and tentatively reaches his fingers out to Shane, letting the other sniff him before petting softly through the front of his hair.

Shane slowly starts to crawl out of Ilya’s lap like he is feeling up for playtime, after all, so Ilya relinquishes him into Troy’s very capable kitten-petting hands in order to get them the necessary supplies.

“I will grab some toys. We’ll see how long he lasts, though. Usually when he gets very hyper, it is only a matter of time before he crashes. We have been prepping a lot for today, so I have to assume he’ll tucker himself out soon enough,” Ilya says to the room at large while he’s busy sifting through a box of Shane’s toys.

When he turns to look back, however, he finds Harris and Troy totally engrossed in Shane—Shane, who is absolutely soaking up the attention, his eyes closed serenely while the two of them take turns petting him. Ilya swallows against the lump in his throat at how good it feels to have friends like this. There’s a flash of something much harsher—a reality that Ilya doesn’t like to let himself think of often, but one that certainly exists in a parallel universe not too far off from this one—and, for a split second, Ilya pictures what life would have been like if Shane had stayed in Montreal. Sure, on one hand, Shane was still struggling with how cruel his thoughts could be, but on the other, his support system was airtight. Ilya could not imagine a better scenario than this one—one where Shane could be a cat fully, not just around people at the club, but around his teammates, too. Their entire team, to be exact.

“Thanks for letting us hang out in here,” Harris mentions lightly when Ilya joins them back on the rug. “I know this is your private space—”

“Thank you,” Ilya interrupts, while Troy is engrossed in dragging a feather toy across the ground for Shane to paw at. “The two of you are endlessly accepting, and the kindness and care in which you treat us does not go unnoticed. I am very grateful to you for being so good to him during the Western away trip. I know he was in good hands and that brought me more comfort than I can ever express.”

Harris offers him a blinding smile in return. “Honestly, it’s the least we can do considering the way you captain this team. I never, ever would have expected to be, like, open about my sexuality in a job like this one. Let alone dating the person of my literal dreams.”

He says it with a star-struck expression on his face that’s reminiscent to how Ilya felt when he and Shane first got together. He still feels like that, quite often actually, but less in a disbelieving sort of way and more in an eternally grateful sort of way.

Ilya’s eyes drift back to Troy and Shane. Troy is sprawled out with one elbow and hand propped up to support his chin, the other arm dangling Shane’s feather toy above him as Shane paws at it with his tongue stuck between his teeth in determination.

“Seriously,” Harris adds, softer this time. “Me and Troy never would have gotten together if it weren’t for you guys.”

“I doubt that,” Ilya replies with a ghost of a smile, his eyebrows pinching together as something else dawns on him. “Hey. Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me?”

Harris tips his head in consideration before the realization seems to hit him. “Oh. Yeah, well,” he pauses, watching Troy and Shane momentarily. “It was kind of…about this. Actually.”

“Okay…” Ilya voices in mild confusion as he waits for Harris to elaborate.

“Just, um. I know Shane and Ivan have, uh…played together before—”

“Yes,” Ilya agrees gruffly. He was not entirely keen on Ivan and Shane playing together again, at least not in the same fashion as last time, but for the time being, that was neither here nor there.

“I was wondering, you know,” Harris phrases slowly while scratching at the back of his neck.

“You were wondering if Troy and Shane could have a playdate,” Ilya realizes, keeping his voice quiet so as not to let on to their submissive counterparts. Ilya knew Shane would get far too eager if he heard the words ‘Troy’ and ‘playdate’ before he and Harris had even begun to figure out the details.

“Sort of,” Harris winces. “I mean, I don’t know if Troy’s really…there yet. I don’t know that he’ll ever really be, like, a proper puppy. Not like Shane is, at least—”

Ilya holds his hand up to stop Harris right there. “Shane is not a good comparison to use. I have never met someone who is a pet in the way Shane is. It is unlikely that Troy will ever get to that point, so. Is useless to measure in this way.”

“Right, no. Of course,” Harris agrees. “I just meant—”

“I am open to this,” Ilya says without hesitation. Even watching Troy with Shane now, it was clear to him that they would be better matched than Shane and Ivan were, at least in terms of playing style. “We would just have to be intentional about it. I think Shane will be a little confused if I pose it to him as a playdate and Troy is not in the mindset of a puppy. He is a bit…strict—” Ilya settles on, for lack of a better word. “About how he categorizes pets.”

“No, yeah,” Harris nearly whispers, like he’s hyper-aware of the fact that Ilya is trying not to let in on what they’re talking about. “I don’t think it should happen, like, tomorrow or anything. Just…maybe down the line. After we’ve explored a bit more. I just know that we’re both interested, and with the way things are going, you know,” he pauses, chewing at his lower lip. “I think it could be helpful for him to see Shane like that. In a dedicated scene, you know. For playing, obviously. Not for like—” Harris fumbles around his words, his eyes wide like he doesn’t want Ilya to get the wrong idea.

“I know what you mean,” Ilya laughs lightly, though with the way Ivan and Shane’s playdate had gone, he knew there was some potential for Shane, at least, to get a little…frisky.

Ilya wasn’t opposed to that, per se, but he was also conscious of the differences in Shane and Troy’s relationship. Troy was a teammate—someone who Shane would see very often—which meant that blurring the lines could come with its own set of consequences. Because of that, Ilya wanted to be extra careful and intentional about how they conducted any sort of scene between them. If anything went wrong, or if any boundaries were crossed, it could have serious repercussions—not just in terms of the team, but in terms of Troy and Shane’s friendship as well.

“We still haven’t fully, like…” Harris trails, imploring Ilya to read between the lines, but Ilya isn’t entirely sure whether he’s talking about sex or puppy play. “You know,” Harris raises his eyebrows pointedly, and luckily, that tips it in the proper direction.

“Ah,” Ilya nods knowingly. “Well, is better not to rush these things, in my opinion. Shane and I did not go there right away either.”

“Really?” Harris voices, like he’s surprised by that.

“Mm,” Ilya hums in amusement. “I know I have quite the reputation, but don’t get it twisted. I am a hopeless romantic at heart.”

Harris laughs fully at that. “I could have figured as much. You certainly have a way with planning. And…decorating.” He looks around the room intentionally.

“Our wedding will be one for the books,” Ilya agrees, feeling his chest warm with the thought.

As if on cue, Shane carefully crawls over to him before collapsing in a cuddly pile on Ilya’s lap, his tired eyes slipping shut as Ilya sinks his fingers through his baby’s wonderfully silky hair.

“There’s my sleepy boy,” Ilya murmurs, in a voice so fond he should probably be arrested for being the softest, most love-struck person alive. “My little prince. You did so well for me today.” He makes his voice intentionally ooey and gooey, taking pleasure in the way Shane descends into his words like all it takes for him to have a good day is Ilya talking to him nice and sweet.

“Hi,” Harris smiles when Troy makes his way over as well, pausing with his hands on Harris’ criss-crossed legs to plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Hi,” Troy says back, sounding about as ready for bed as Shane looks.

“You ready to get going soon?” Harris asks, carding his hand through the side of Troy’s hair.

Ilya doesn’t miss the way that he leans up into it.

“Yeah. We should probably check on Luca before we leave though, right?” Troy frowns.

“I will text Wes to make sure everything’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” Ilya assures them. “I doubt Wes would have taken him anywhere if Luca wasn’t up for it. Luca is a fully consenting adult, so. I’m sure he’s just fine, but I will take care of it.”

“Yay,” Troy declares, like he’s happy to be rid of the undertaking.

He collapses into Harris’ lap similarly to the way Shane is in Ilya’s, and Ilya watches as one of Shane’s curious brown eyes pops open to assess the creature in front of him. And then, Ilya observes in fascination as Shane skootches forward until his cheek is pressed to the very edge of Ilya’s knee, until he and Troy Barrett are practically looking at each other eye-to-eye, their faces so close to one another that for a moment, Ilya thinks Shane might actually kiss him.

He does, in a way, but it comes out as a slobbery lick to Troy’s nose that has Troy scrunching up his face and giggling hysterically in response. As if wanting to return the gesture, Troy darts forward to lick Shane’s cheek, too, and Ilya smiles when Shane’s freckled cheeks go pink at the gesture.

“Just a couple of very good pets,” Harris comments affectionally, giving Troy’s shaggy hair a ruffle. Troy turns onto his back to look up at Harris in adoration, and Ilya can very obviously see that something is blooming there. Something that looks a whole lot like pet play.

-

“Tonight was fun, huh?” Harris asks, his car rolling to a stop as he arrives at Troy’s house.

“Totally. Tons of fun,” Troy agrees, his eyes bright from the passenger seat. “It was cool getting to see Shane in his element, you know? Obviously, we’ve seen him be a kitten before, but like…”

“I know what you mean,” Harris smiles. “I don’t think he’s ever been that much of a kitten around us. Or not around me, at least.”

“Yeah, me either. I mean, he was kind of like that right after the plane thing, but not fully. And the clicker training was legit. Maybe we should try something like that,” Troy jokes, only Harris can’t actually tell if he’s kidding or not.

“We could. If you wanted to,” Harris shrugs because he was open to pretty much anything Troy wanted to try. Well…within the confines of their already established limits, at least.

Troy flushes like he hadn’t expected that reaction, even though he’s been making little comments like that for the past two weeks at least. Harris can tell there’s something else that he wants to ask, though, so he waits patiently to see if Troy will come out with it on his own.

“Do you want to come in?” Troy blurts finally, just when Harris is about to let it go and call it a night. “Or…you don’t have to—”

“Yes,” Harris laughs because he thinks it’s funny that Troy even has to ask at this point. “The answer is always yes.” So, after shutting his car off, the two of them make their way inside.

They’re kissing before they get through the front door, Troy clawing at his clothes like a madman possessed, and Harris just wonders how he got so lucky. He has the hottest guy in the NHL scrambling to get him out of his shirt; a few months ago, he never would have believed that anyone in the NHL could want him like this, let alone Troy Barrett.

Harris is just as eager to get naked as Troy pushes him back onto the bed, crawling over him and sniffing at him in a way that Harris thinks is supposed to be subtle, even if he’s failing miserably.

“You’re always smelling me,” Harris grins because there are certainly worse things to complain about.

“It’s not my fault you smell so good,” Troy whines, like Harris has concocted some sort of evil plan to lure him in with his scent.

“If this is you trying to prove to me you’re a puppy again, I’m still not convinced,” Harris teases, even though he can’t help carding his fingers through Troy’s luscious hair.

“Oh yeah? What about now?” Troy asks before licking his tongue across Harris’ cheek.

“Now, I think you’re just copying Shane,” he laughs, but again…not complaining.

Troy huffs and practically collapses on top of him. “What is it going to take for you to accept the fact that I am a puppy?”

“I dunno,” Harris retorts playfully. “Probably you doing something actually puppy-like.”

“Oh, yeah?” Troy lifts his head, his eyebrows drawn together in a frustrated yet determined look. “What about this?” He challenges, and then Troy honest-to-god humps his half-hard cock against Harris’ thigh.

Harris’ mouth drops open in a silent moan, his eyes glued to Troy’s while his body tries to figure out what is going on and whether he likes it. Yes, his mind tells him enthusiastically. Yes, yes, yes.

“I don’t know. It’s still not giving much of a puppy to me,” he replies, his voice softer than before. “Maybe I’m just…having trouble picturing it,” he says, feeling a little breathless when Troy tips his head in a way that truly is quite puppy-like. “Maybe this will help.”

Harris leans over to Troy’s poor excuse for a night-table and grabs the Dalmatian ears that have been sitting there untouched since Halloween. He feels Troy suck in a gasp between them as Harris re-centers himself to place the headband on top of Troy’s head, tucking his hair behind his ears to ensure it sits properly.

“There,” Harris practically whispers. “I think I’m starting to see it now.”

“Yeah?” Troy double-checks, grinding his hips down once more.

“Yeah,” Harris practically moans, feeling himself start to react to the movement as well.

The ears seem to help motivate Troy to get in the proper mindset, and before Harris knows it, Troy is fucking panting while trying to get himself off. He’s moving his hips sporadically, experimenting with a series of different angles while he humps Harris’ thigh. He’s not putting direct pressure on Harris’ cock per se, but the heat of Troy’s body against his is close enough that Harris still feels like he can get off like this. With Troy on top of him—humping him, for crying out loud—it really wouldn’t take much.

Troy attempts to kiss him while keeping up with his rhythm, but the end result is a little sloppy, their lips dragging against each other’s in a similar fashion to their still-clothed cocks. Troy lets out a frustrated little grunt like he’s having trouble, so Harris grabs his hips and carefully redirects him until they’re grinding against each other more directly now. Troy gives him a satisfying whine in return.

Harris looks up at him through the haze of his very one-track mind right now, his eyes cataloguing the Dalmatian ears and the fucked-out look in Troy’s debilitating stare.

“C’mon, puppy,” Harris encourages, and Troy collapses face-first into his chest like the words are too much. Like he can hardly keep himself together with how good the combination of sensations feels.

And admittedly, Harris is starting to picture it. It wasn’t even that hard, really, because Troy did act like a puppy most days. Like an over-eager, excited puppy with way too much energy. He and Shane were total opposites almost as much as they were identical twins. Harris could picture them playing together just like this. Well, not just like this. Seeing as Troy was fucking humping him while trying to get off. Which…maybe Ilya had mentioned Shane was known for. At times.

Fuck. Harris should not be thinking about Ilya or Shane right now. But it’s pretty hard not to considering where they’ve just come from. Demos of all kinds of kinks, but one had stood out so obviously to him and Troy both—their eyes darting to each other at times before quickly averting back to the stage, partly because they were embarrassed, and partly because they didn’t want to miss anything. The educational aspect was important to both of them, and Harris appreciated that about Troy. He appreciated that Troy seemed to want to go slow. That he didn’t want to rush anything. Because, if you asked Harris, things with Troy were too important to rush.

I’m falling in love with you, he thinks, a little pathetically, because he has no idea if Troy will ever feel the same.

But Troy is inhaling his scent in big, deep breaths as he gets closer to his climax. He’s grabbing onto Harris like he really is as desperate for him as he is for Troy. He’s making these little fucking whimpering sounds that are making Harris feel dizzy, like he’s in some fever-dream where a super hot, muscled athlete apparently wants him for some reason. He still doesn’t really understand why. He still thinks he’s going to wake up at any second to someone pouring a cold bucket of water over his head.

Instead, he feels Troy Barrett cry out against his neck as he comes in his boxers, his hips moving in tiny circles against Harris’ while he rides out the aftermath, and Harris finds the whole thing so mouth-wateringly hot that he comes right along with him, gripping onto Troy tightly as the other clumsily licks into his mouth.

And then, just when Harris thinks this whole night can’t possibly get any hotter, Troy scrambles further down his body, peels him out of his boxers, and starts licking up the aftermath of Harris’ release, his tongue working in quick, eager swipes across Harris’ otherwise spent cock.

“Holy shit,” Harris gets out, his hand sinking through Troy’s hair as his head falls back against the pillows. He’s oversensitive, but he’s not stupid enough to ask Troy to stop, content to soak up the special treatment a little longer just in case it’s all in his head. He does his best to make Troy feel good as well, scratching his fingers against the other’s scalp and feeling a thrill run through him when his nails catch on Troy’s ears, the fur soft and alluring.

Eventually, Troy makes his way back up to Harris’ face, his mouth slightly open and his eyes ever-ready to please. His hair is mussed up from the way Harris’ fingers have been working through it for the past however long.

“Was that puppy enough for you?” Troy asks, but it doesn’t come across as playful as Harris would expect. More so, there’s an eagerness there, like Harris could say jump and Troy would come back with, how high? Like he’d spin in a circle at the promise of getting a treat, or chase after a frisbee if he knew head scratches were involved.

Harris just laughs and pulls him into a gentle kiss, unable to help smiling into it as Troy scrambles to meet him halfway. Harris deepens the gesture when he gets close enough, pulling Troy in by the back of his neck and giving him a rewarding scratch when Troy settles more succinctly on top of him.

“Mm, that’s a good puppy,” Harris tries out a phrase from Ilya’s book, feeling satisfaction run through him when Troy practically gasps in response, his eyes bright and searching like he’s waiting for his next command. “Do you like when I call you that?” He asks lightly.

Troy swallows, something working its way across his expression as he jerks his head up and down in a nod.

“Should we…should we do some aftercare now?” Harris suggests, because he still doesn’t know how this whole thing is supposed to work, but he figures there’s no harm in erring on the cautious side.

Luckily, Troy seems to agree, offering another jerky nod in approval, so Harris opens his arms wide for Troy to collapse into him. They’re still half naked and sticky, Troy probably more so than him, but Harris doesn’t mind. Cuddling feels more important than getting cleaned up right now. He hopes he isn’t a terrible Dom for thinking so.

“That was really nice,” Harris comments, stroking his hand over Troy’s hair once more.

“Yeah?” Troy asks, his voice tentative this time, like he’s starting to doubt himself amidst the post-orgasmic clarity. “It wasn’t, like, too much? With the puppy stuff?” He perches his chin on Harris’ chest to look at him properly.

Harris smiles. “Not at all,” he replies, continuing to pet at him in what he hopes to be a soothing gesture. “I’m still barely convinced you’re a puppy,” he says teasingly, just to spur a reaction out of Troy.

It’s worth it for the way Troy growls and bites at his chest in retaliation, pulling a loud burst of laughter from Harris.

“Okay, now it’s too much,” he jokes, but Troy just huffs and collapses back into him, grumbling against Harris’ neck like the little grump that he is.

Harris glides his hand over Troy’s back this time, pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Seriously, though,” he adds, once the air around them has softened into something more settled. “That was really, really nice. I think, you know…I’m into the puppy stuff. In case that wasn’t obvious. If…if you are, at least.”

Troy breathes a small puff of a laugh against him. “I think I’m into the puppy stuff, too. In case it wasn’t obvious,” he retorts, meeting Harris’ gaze once more.

Harris looks down at him fondly and shakes his head, leaning forward for one more kiss before he settles back into the pillows and tries to focus himself on aftercare-mode. He knew there wasn’t a one-size-fits-all method to Domming, but he also knew that things with Troy were too important to mess this up. Five more minutes of cuddling, then he would force himself to stand and get them clean. Tomorrow, he could worry himself into making sense of what this all means for them, but for now, he’s content to live in dreamland a little longer. It’s not hard with the way Troy is letting out tiny puppy-like snores against him. Harris just pulls him close and tries to convince himself that this is as real for the both of them as it is for him.

-

Ilya is sucking on Shane’s tongue.

Shane barely knows up from down right now. He thinks he might be in some sort of kitty heaven, like Ilya has sent him into a kitty coma, and somehow Shane has used up all of his nine lives and died dead. Because there’s no freaking way this is real. Everything just feels too good.

Ilya is massaging Shane’s paw pads. He’s rubbing lotion on all of Shane’s finger toe beans, working it into his fur coat, up Shane’s arms and across his bare shoulders.

Shane smiles against Ilya’s lips, but he keeps his eyes closed because it feels better that way.

“My smiley baby,” Ilya’s sweet voice coos at him.

Shane giggles at how ticklish it feels when Ilya kisses his neck.

“You are just perfect, aren’t you?”

Shane gasps when Ilya’s fingers graze along the inner part of his thighs. Holy fuck. His dick is trapped in a fucking cage. He feels so, so far from his body. Like ice cream melting down a cone. Liquid and warm, but somehow still cold.

“Shane.”

“…….”

“………………...”

“………………………………….”

Shane is molten lava. Icy freeze. Up and down and somewhere that he can’t quite place. Kitten things. That’s right. He was doing kitten things. Is Ilya still touching him? He should probably open his eyes and check, but he can’t move his arms. He can’t feel his legs or his tongue or his ears.

Fuck. Where’s Ilya? Where’s Ilya? Ilya isn’t here with him. He’s alone. He’s—

Shane gasps at the feeling of something cold against his forehead, his eyes blinking open on their own accord as a haze drowns out his vision. It’s like his body reacts immediately, an earth-shattering feeling rocking through him that has him shivering and sucking in scattered breaths.

“Slow your breathing,” comes a deep voice in his ear while he’s simultaneously wrapped in a thick blanket.

Shane shakes with the realization that something is happening around him, something that he doesn’t understand, something that’s scaring him, but he relaxes minutely when he realizes that Ilya is with him.

“In…and out. Good job. In…and out. There you go. Keep breathing,” the voice tells him, and Shane knows that voice well, so he listens. In…and out.

He can feel the blanket wrap more tightly around him, and then a shift. Like weight being redistributed. Shane breathes in…and out.

He can barely see still, but there’s movement in front of him. A blurry figure that looks like it might be Ilya. Shane doesn’t know how that can be, though, because he thought Ilya was right next to him.

Arms around him this time, and something pressed to his lips.

“Juice, baby. Can you drink for me? You’re doing great.”

Shane’s body relaxes as he sucks at the straw. Juice. Sweet.

Someone breathing in his ear. Cologne. Ilya.

“Shane,” someone says to him. Gripping his chin. Maneuvering his gaze.

Shane blinks. He’s looking at Ilya.

“You are perfectly safe, okay? I am right here with you. You did everything exactly as I asked, and now I’m just going to take care of you.”

Shane feels warm while looking at him. Ilya is the best. Ilya always takes care of him.

“Keep breathing for me. Everything is okay.”

Another sip of juice. Mm. Tastes yummy. Apple? Warm arms around him. Cologne. Ilya.

Shane breathes.

“Good job. The scene is over now. We’re just resting.”

Rest. Yeah. Shane breathes. He did good. The scene is done. Ilya thinks he’s good.

Warm.

Cologne.

Safe.

Ilya.

-

Ilya tries to slow his own stuttered breath. “In…and out.” But he can barely breathe even as he’s saying the words.

He let Shane go too far this time. He’s a bad Dom. A selfish Dom. He should have known it was too much. He should have stopped it before Shane got to the point of being entirely unresponsive. And not in a kitten way, but in a dopamine overload way. So much so that Shane’s breathing had gone shallow. Kind of like Ilya’s is now.

Dom drop, Dom drop, Dom drop, his mind whispers, but it doesn’t matter. Ilya still needs to take care of Shane.

Once Shane is wrapped up in the weighted blanket, Ilya forces himself to stand and walk over to the mini fridge. Juice, he thinks, because Shane needs sugar. Because glucose helps to stabilize the physical nervous system. And calories. Because pet play burns a lot of them. Juice will help to bring Shane back in his body. Ilya probably needs some, too.

I’m a good Dom, he forces his brain to tell himself. I need to get myself together to make sure I can take care of Shane.

He takes several sips of the juice before grabbing a straw and placing it in the glass. He joins Shane back on the bed, prompting him to drink and wrapping around him the moment he’s close enough to.

Ilya sucks in a deep breath of Shane’s scent. “Keep breathing for me. Everything is okay.” Except he’s telling himself just as much as he’s telling Shane.

I’m keeping him safe. I’m being a good Dom. I pulled him out of it before it went too far. He’s safe. I got to him in time. I’ll do better next time. He’s okay. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe.

-

Chapter End Notes

here's my pinterest board if you want to see ilya and shane's save-the-date. i'll add things to this as i figure out more for their wedding.

thank you for reading!!! i hoped you liked getting some new povs this chapter. it's been fun to write them. i'm super excited for the christmas chapters coming up (yes, multiple). i can't wait to show you what shane and ilya got each other ;) plus some family time with the hollanders!

thank you once again for all the wonderful comments! i would reply to every single one if it didn't take me literally hours to do (and my wrists already get very sore from writing so much lol), but just know i really appreciate how much love you have for this story and it is so incredible reading your reactions to it! to those of you who have discovered you like pet play from this story, you are sooo pawesome for that :)

i do have a small trip coming up, not sure if it will affect the timing of this next chapter or the one after, but please be patient if it takes me a little longer to update! can't wait to hear your thoughts and thank youuuu again

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

for anyone who would like to be surprised by the contents of this chapter, please go ahead and start reading! if you would like a warning for what this chapter contains, please see the end notes before reading! i trust that you know your own limits enough to make the correct choice for yourself :) enjoy!!

“Is everything okay with you guys?” Wyatt asks as Ilya and Shane get out of the showers after practice. “Party too hard last night or something?” He jokes.

Ilya moves himself in front of Shane on instinct.

“Just back off,” Shane says to Wyatt, shaking his head seriously.

They’re both a little worse for wear after the events of last night, and Ilya feels entirely responsible. Just when he thought he was getting better at managing Shane’s levels, he fucks it all up again. It’s weighing on him like a load of bricks. He feels it in his body; he’s carrying it in his brain.

“Okay, sorry.” Wyatt raises his hand in defense, retreating, but Troy doesn’t look so easily convinced.

“Shane? You good, buddy?”

“Don’t touch him,” Ilya barks out before he can stop himself.

Shane glides a hand across his shoulder and squeezes his neck, slipping himself into Ilya’s very easily convinced arms. He feels some of his worry ease out of him instantly with the knowledge that Shane is solid and okay in his grasp.

“I’m right here,” Shane promises, like he’s hyper-aware of the fact that Ilya could use the extra reassurance right now. “We’re gonna order food tonight, okay? I just want to cuddle on the couch and watch a movie.”

“Whatever you want,” Ilya agrees easily. Nothing cat-related, he thinks to himself, because Shane was certainly in need of some human time tonight. Not only that, but Ilya didn’t trust himself to take care of Shane while he was down. Not right now, anyway. But they would save that heavy conversation for another night, a night where both of their brains were better fueled to tackle it.

“We’re good, Troy,” Shane smiles, and Ilya’s grateful when Troy accepts it this time, like something on Shane’s face has convinced him. Good. Ilya does not want to talk to anyone for the rest of the evening, and he certainly doesn’t want anyone talking to Shane. “Do you want me to drive home?”

Ilya raises his eyebrows. “My Porsche?” He double-checks in confusion, wondering why in the hell Shane would be asking to drive his car.

“Yeah. You seem a little—” He pauses like he isn’t sure of the right word for it. “I don’t know. Sorry, I just feel really…” Shane trails, but he can’t seem to find the right word to describe that emotion either.

Ilya swallows when Shane comes closer to wrap his arms around his neck, pulling him into a gentle, yet deep, hug. Ilya does his best to breathe him in and be present in the moment.

“I love you so much. Always. You know that, right?” Shane asks him.

He’s being overly affectionate. Clingy, even. Ilya isn’t complaining, but it is confusing to him considering how badly he feels like he fucked up last night. He won’t say that to Shane, though. Shane doesn’t need to deal with the burden of Ilya’s guilt. He’s recovering from his own drop—or near-drop, maybe, Ilya isn’t sure—and resting from that is much more important. Ilya can handle himself just fine.

“I love you so much,” Ilya echoes, squeezing Shane in his arms. “I will drive us home, baby. It’s going to make me too nervous to have you behind the wheel. It’s not you, I just—” he pauses, gesturing to his head, miming circles with his hand. His thoughts are scrambled, and most of them revolve around keeping Shane safe. There’s no reason to have Shane drive Ilya’s sports car, especially considering he’s never driven it before.

“Sh, it’s totally fine,” Shane murmurs back to him, carding his fingers through Ilya’s hair.

“Hey, Luca. You good? Harris and I tried to wait up for you, but you never showed. Ilya said he’d make sure you were alright, though,” Troy says, throwing his shirt over his head as he surveys the other.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m fine,” Luca replies quietly, like he’s shy. “Ilya did check in. I appreciated that,” he smiles. “Thanks, um…thanks for asking.”

“Course, dude.” Troy claps him on the shoulder. “It was a really good time. I’m glad you came.”

Ilya’s just glad someone had a happy ending. Not that he and Shane didn’t. All in all, everything with the demo had actually gone perfectly. Ilya’s main mistake was not trying to bring him up sooner. He wonders if his selfishness clouded his vision at the time. Did Shane suffer because Ilya had wanted to see him like that? All overly relaxed and spaced out. More than he had wanted him to be safe, apparently. He feels sick to his stomach, so he clings tighter to Shane, feeling even more guilty because he feels like he’s being selfish even now.

“C’mon,” Shane prompts, giving Ilya’s hair a little tug. “I wanna get home so I can dive into one of your big hoodies.”

“Mm,” Ilya hums his agreement. “That sounds very, very nice. Maybe I will steal one of your hoodies, too,” he muses.

“Yeah, sure,” Shane laughs, and Ilya melts at the sound. “You’ll wear it for about two seconds before your arms start feeling too trapped.”

“Is not my fault I have very big, juicy arm muscles,” Ilya grumbles into Shane’s neck. There’s a split second where he wonders if they’re being too much, if them clinging to each other like this for an extended period of time in the locker room is inappropriate after-practice behavior. But then he remembers that half the people in this room watched Shane be a cat last night, so that worry goes away very quickly.

“I wouldn’t change that for the world,” Shane tells him with an audible grin, and Ilya smiles when he feels kisses pressed all over his shoulders, Shane twisting slightly in his grip to be able to reach more and more available skin.

By the time they get home and changed into cozy clothes, Ilya feels like he could go into hibernation for the next two months at least. He’s grateful that, when they settle in on the couch, Shane immediately maneuvers Ilya’s head into his lap, his fingers sinking through Ilya’s curls like it’s second nature.

“Mm,” Ilya hums happily, letting his eyes slip shut in appreciation.

“Feel good?” Shane prompts, scraping his nails against Ilya’s scalp.

“Mhm,” he expresses, soaking up the attention.

“Is it okay if we pause our dynamic?”

Ilya's heart comes to a stuttering halt, his body freezing up and going stiff against his will at the abrupt suggestion. He pushes himself up out of Shane’s lap to address him properly, his eyebrows pinched tightly in concern.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Shane frowns, reaching out for Ilya’s shoulder like he wants to ease some of the tension there.

“Then, why are you saying this?” He can’t help the way his thoughts flood with a million different terrible scenarios.

Shane is having second thoughts about the wedding. He isn’t sure he wants to go through with it. He wants to stop their arrangement. He thinks the BDSM is getting to be too much. He had a horrible experience last night, and these are the ramifications of Ilya’s actions.

“I just…” Shane continues to look at him with a furrowed expression. “You seem a little stressed. I wanted to take away some of the pressure. I thought pausing the dynamic would help.”

“Pausing the dynamic does not work like that, Shane. Does not suddenly erase my need to take care of you after a scene. Does not unburden you from the after-effects of submitting to me last night,” Ilya says rigidly.

“What after-effects?” Shane asks carefully, still to his part, looking entirely clueless as to what Ilya is talking about.

“From dropping,” Ilya gets out between gritted teeth because he’s so fucking angry with himself.

“Hey, what?” Shane’s frown deepens. “Ilya, I didn’t…” he trails off, the realization suddenly dawning on him. “Did I drop last night? It doesn’t feel like I dropped.”

“Okay, maybe you did not drop,” Ilya relents. “But you were about to. You were much too deep. You were unresponsive. Your breathing went shallow, and your body was going cold.”

“Ilya,” Shane says seriously, brown eyes searching as he grips onto Ilya’s bicep. “Did you drop?”

Ilya sighs, letting his eyes slip shut, but Shane cups his chin before he can look away.

“Hey. Look at me,” Shane commands, redirecting Ilya’s gaze. “I’m okay. You didn’t do anything wrong last night. I’m not hurt. I’m totally fine—”

“You are not fine, Shane,” Ilya scoffs. “You went too fucking far. I let you go too far. We have been together too long for me to still be making mistakes like this. I should know better. As your fiancé and as your Dom.”

“You’re not a superhero, Ilya,” Shane says softly, clutching onto him even more tightly. “You’re human. You’re going to make mistakes sometimes, and it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, a bad fiancé, or a bad Dom.”

“I can’t make mistakes when it comes to you!” Ilya shouts, causing Shane to freeze up at the sudden change in volume and tone. “You are fucking everything to me. Don’t you get that? If I lose you, I lose all that I have!”

Ilya feels tears well up in his eyes when Shane suddenly surges forward to hug him with the force of a thousand suns, his fiancé’s body a comfortable, grounding weight on top of him as the other pulls him close.

“You’re not losing me,” Shane promises fiercely into the crook of his neck. “I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” he whispers in a chant, like it’ll somehow get stuck in Ilya’s head better that way and force him to actually believe it.

Ilya shudders out a sob, letting go of the dam he’s built that’s been holding back all of his emotions lately. “I could have fucked up so bad, Shane,” he cries, sucking in a stuttering breath. “I just don’t want to hurt you. I should have paid better attention. I- I should not be so selfish—”

“Baby, baby, please,” Shane begs, putting a few inches between them so he can cup Ilya’s cheeks in both hands, forcing Ilya’s teary gaze to meet his. “I’ve been in sub drop before, okay? And that is not what this feels like. This feels like you did the right thing. This feels like you noticed something was wrong, and you did what you always do, and you fixed it.” Shane watches him for a second, his brown eyes serious and sure as he looks him over. “You’re a good Dom. The best Dom, actually. I wouldn’t be with you if you weren’t. I wouldn’t keep scening with you if you didn’t only ever make me feel good and safe.”

Ilya swallows, sniffling like it will make his face any less covered in snot. He closes his eyes and leans into one of Shane’s sturdy hands. Hands that are soft from Ilya massaging $375 hand cream into them last night. It’s one of the last things he remembers before Shane became unresponsive.

Ilya forces his eyes open, and he finds Shane is still staring at him. He really doesn’t seem like he’s in sub drop. He seems a little raw, a little tired, sure, but he doesn’t seem like he needs reassurance. If anything, he seems more sure of himself than usual, like he’s recognized he has to step up in the face of Ilya’s debilitating guilt.

“I love you so much,” Shane tells him earnestly. “And if you’re feeling scared or…or vulnerable or whatever after last night…well, then, you’re allowed. Just let me take care of you, okay? Let’s pause the dynamic and just be Shane and Ilya for a while. I just wanna hold you, and we can order food, and watch a movie, and cuddle. Can we do that?”

Ilya doesn’t have the energy to argue, so he simply nods, allowing himself to sink face-first into Shane’s open arms once again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Shane whispers into his hair as he carefully maneuvers them to lie back against the couch, Ilya sprawled out on top of him. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to worry about anything. Everything’s okay.”

He dozes off to that melodic sound—Shane murmuring reassurances against him, his sweet voice making imprints in the holes in Ilya’s memory that haunt him into his dreams. And when he eventually rises, it’s a much, much brighter reality to wake up to.

-

The next week, Ilya and Shane go to twin therapy appointments. They’re not intertwined in any way other than the fact that they’re at the same time, but it had been Shane’s idea, so Ilya tries to make the most of it by acting like it’s something they’re doing together. Kinda like a date. Except with less kissing and more talking about things that Ilya would rather gouge his eyes out than discuss.

“Can you try to think back to the first time you took control of someone?”

It had been with Sasha when they were only eighteen. Sasha was a brat from the moment Ilya met him. Not in the BDSM sense, per se, but it eventually amounted to the same thing. And one time, when they were having sex and Sasha wouldn’t stop running his mouth, Ilya had pinned his wrists in one hand and shut him up with the other. He’d fucked into him so hard that Sasha was moaning loudly against him, but all Ilya could hear was the pounding in his own head at how good it felt to take control. To have the final say in something for once, in a life where he had mostly always been told what to do. How to act. Who to be. Play hockey. Don’t be lazy, said his father. Stop acting like a faggot, said his brother. For some reason, that one always came to mind most when Ilya had a dick halfway down his throat.

But he would not really get into the scene until much later in life. And by the time his father and brother had passed, after the two following years of debauchery, he needed something to throw himself into completely. Luckily, Svetlana’s new club ended up being the perfect distraction. The two of them had stumbled onto a BDSM club for the first time together on one of their legendary wild nights out. Naturally, and over time, they met more people involved in the scene, until it was almost second nature to start having that talk with all of his casual partners. Hard limits. Safeword. Kinks they might be interested in trying. Cause Ilya wanted to try them all. Until it got to the point where he wasn’t just seeking out partners anymore; he was seeking out subs.

He and Svetlana had become regulars at some of the clubs in Montreal, but they were each flawed in their own way, and over time, Svetlana grew tired of the kink scene that Montreal had to offer. She decided that, if she wanted to feel perfectly satisfied, she would simply have to make a club of her own.

Ilya was interested from the get-go. He was there when she first bought the building, helped her come up with the name Hush, and was even around to help plan some of the first-ever events. But when his father died, and everything went to shit, Ilya didn’t need sex with structure; he just needed a way to get off mindlessly and fast. His memories from around that time are shot to hell, warped from the myriad of alcohol and drugs he’d used to try and poison his system. To punish himself for the things he couldn’t control because they made him feel weak.

“How did it make you feel?”

“Powerful,” Ilya says simply, and without hesitation.

“Which was different for you, I assume. With your history, with what you’ve told me, it would seem there were probably a lot of times you felt helpless.”

There was that word again. Helpless. She sure as shit loves that word, Ilya notices. He tries not to flinch at it.

“I’m sure it felt good to be in control of something for once. To feel powerful,” she continues.

She hasn’t asked a question, and Ilya doesn’t really know what she’s getting at, so he just stays quiet.

“There’s a sense of safety to it too, right? A predictability. BDSM is good in this way,” she muses, almost casually. Like she and Ilya are talking about the weather, or what they’re going to have for lunch. “It protects both parties. Rules, safewords, having your boundaries pre-negotiated. It is almost like a fortress you’ve built up in your mind, and I think you would like to believe nothing can hurt you there.”

Ilya bristles a little at the insinuation. “I’m not stupid,” he fires back. “BDSM is very dangerous. It would be negligent of me to think that nothing bad can ever happen.”

“That would certainly be a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” she agrees. “The idea that you can’t ever mess up.”

“I got lucky this time,” Ilya grumbles out.

“Not really,” Ekaterina counters. “You were paying attention, like any good Dom should. You read your sub. You noticed the signs. Noticed that they were too far down, that there was potential for a drop, and so you intervened. To me, that is not luck. That is pure skill. Pure competence as a Dom.”

“It shouldn’t have even gone that far,” Ilya argues. “I should not be making mistakes still at this point. We are too deep into our relationship and our dynamic. I should have caught him before he got to that point, but I was too focused on my own feelings. It is pure selfishness.”

“You have said to me before that your sub goes down very easily. This must be tough for you.”

“Tough for me?” Ilya scoffs, a defensiveness bubbling within him. There’s nothing about Shane that is tough for Ilya. “It’s the best thing in the world. Many Doms would kill for a sub like him.” They’d have to, too. Because Ilya would kill anyone who threatened to take Shane away from him.

“I just meant that it sounds unpredictable,” she clarifies. “For someone who is so obsessed with control, I imagine that would be difficult to navigate. The unpredictability that comes with your sub. You seem to find solace in having control. You said yourself that it makes you feel powerful. Safe, probably, too. And the majority of your life where you were out of control was very traumatic for you, wouldn’t you say? At times, you even lost someone.”

Ilya shuts his eyes as if it will somehow keep the thought of that sentence far, far away from his Shane and the current state of reality.

“I can see why something like a drop, or a near drop, might hit a lot harder for someone with your past—”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Ilya demands, his eyes snapping open. “It doesn’t change my responsibility to keep him safe.”

“I think you are confusing safety and control. Because they are not always the same thing.”

“How are they not? I am in control. I am the one being trusted to make sure he is safe,” Ilya shoots back.

“Yes,” she nods. “You seem to trust your partner to give you an enormous amount of control over them. I find it curious that you do not trust yourself enough to allow your partner to have even a moment of vulnerability that you can’t immediately manage.”

“I—” Ilya shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to come up with an intelligent response. “I don’t—”

“Safety does not look like complete control, Ilya. You cannot plan for every possible outcome; you cannot eliminate every possible risk. All you can really do is trust your partner, trust their communication, and trust yourself and your own ability to be a good Dom. You have done this for many years, Ilya. You are very experienced in your craft.”

“It doesn’t mean something can’t still happen—”

“There is always that risk. But that doesn’t make it your fault. And it also means that, unfortunately, not everything is preventable. You can spend every second of your life trying to make everything perfect, and something might still go wrong,” she enunciates those last few words. “It is a flaw in the universe, okay? Not a flaw in you.”

Ilya closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. “What if I could have done something to prevent it, though? What if I could have noticed it sooner? What if I stopped it thirty minutes before? Before it even got close.”

“What would it have changed?” Ekaterina challenges. “Let’s say you did. Let’s say you had some superhuman ability to see thirty minutes into the future.”

Ilya glances up briefly just to shoot her a look.

“You would not have suffered Dom drop, that’s for sure,” she offers, tipping her head in consideration.

“I don’t care about that,” Ilya sighs, letting his arms drop back to the chair’s armrests on either side of him. “I care about Shane.”

“Well, you should care about that. You should care about your own well-being just as much as Shane’s. You can’t take care of someone else if you are not taking care of yourself,” she reminds him. “Have you been taking it easy since the drop?”

“It’s been a week. I am fine,” Ilya waves off.

“You do not seem fine,” she comments dryly, looking him over. “You look exhausted, for one. Have you been sleeping?”

Barely. He was getting to sleep alright, but the staying asleep proved to be trickier. The urge to check on Shane was so strong lately that it wasn’t just a cognizant awareness anymore; more like a restless need that lived inside his body, always ready to strike.

“I am starting to think this doesn’t have anything to do with your partner nearly dropping,” she interrupts his silence. “The Dom drop would have worn off by now if it did.” She presses her lips together before pursing them. “Your trauma activation kicked in. Someone that you love was at risk—just like in that plane crash not too long ago—and your nervous system took it as a threat. But, Ilya…” Ekaterina shakes her head. “There is only so much you can control, which is why control doesn’t make for a good weapon against uncertainty. You are going to feel helpless at times, but that doesn’t mean it has to destroy you. Helplessness is a normal feeling. The trauma that you have experienced where you felt helpless…that is the abnormal part. The sooner you embrace that you’re going to feel helpless sometimes—that it doesn’t necessarily mean that something terrible is going to happen—the sooner I think you’re going to find a lot of relief. I’m not saying it’s going to be an easy journey, but I think a good first step would be forgiving yourself for whatever you think you did wrong in your last scene.”

Ilya swallows, hating how deeply her words sink into his skin. He knows she’s right is the thing. Truthfully, there isn’t much else he could have done to prevent what happened that night. Ilya had prepared for every scenario. He was on high alert. Maybe he should have had the forethought to plan for the scene to end earlier than it did, but he had also pivoted at exactly the right time. His Dom instincts hadn’t failed him; he was just pissed at himself for not predicting it sooner. He was punishing himself for not knowing the unknowable. Because if he didn’t know what was coming, how could he possibly protect Shane? Doing his best wasn’t enough; he needed to do better. He needed to do the impossible.

-

When Ilya gets home from therapy, he’s surprised to find a big Christmas tree in the corner of their living room.

“Shane?” Ilya calls out, his face wide in open confusion as he glances around. He smiles and steps forward when he spots his lover, but Shane holds his hand up, gesturing for Ilya to stop where he is.

“Wait, wait, stay right there,” Shane blurts as he rushes over.

Ilya’s first thought, like always, is immediate concern, but the second that Shane gets over to him, he pulls Ilya into a crushing kiss.

“Mm,” Ilya hums against him, breaking into a dazed smile as soon as the other pulls away. “What was that for?”

“Mistletoe,” Shane fills in, his eyes darting to the mistletoe hanging above them. “It’s bad luck to stand under mistletoe without kissing someone.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Ilya murmurs before closing the gap between them to kiss him again until Shane is gasping and breathless. “I think I am going to have to start standing under this all day.”

Shane’s happy laugh is a melodic sound in his ears.

“What is all of this, anyway? When did you have time to do this?” Ilya asks, a cozy feeling slinking through him at the idea of getting to spend their first Christmas together. Ilya’s first real Christmas, maybe ever.

“My therapy appointment was only one hour. Yours was two, so…I asked my dad to help me get a tree and set it up. I thought I’d surprise you,” Shane says casually, like this isn’t possibly the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for Ilya. “He also brought over some Christmas decorations, like ornaments and stuff. We’ll have to get some of our own at some point, but I figured this would be a good start. Most of it is just like stupid stuff from when I was younger,” he says while rolling his eyes. “But you know…it’s not nothing, so.”

Ilya wraps him in a big hug to hide the way his throat has gone tight, sure that it must be showing on his face. “It is not nothing at all,” Ilya agrees quietly, his chin perched on Shane’s shoulder as he holds him incredibly close. “It is very much something to me. Thank you for doing this.”

“Of course. It’s not a big deal,” Shane replies, but his voice is soft too.

“Is very big deal. Our first Christmas together. I want it to be special,” Ilya comments, pressing a few kisses down Shane’s neck just for the way it makes him practically purr before he leans back.

“It’ll be special no matter what. If you’re with me, it’s special,” Shane says, his lips curled tenderly at the edges. “I’ve never brought someone home for Christmas before.” He wrinkles his nose in a way that Ilya considers to be extremely cute. “It’s going to be so weird. You’re okay with staying there, right?”

“Of course,” Ilya amends, brushing some of Shane’s fringe out of his eyes just to have an excuse to touch him more. “Why would it be weird? Your parents don’t mind, do they?”

“Course not. They love you. You know that,” Shane responds. “But I don’t know. Sleeping in my childhood bedroom. It’s a little weird, right?”

Ilya laughs, both hands resettling on Shane’s hips to give him a squeeze. “I think it is sweet. It will be nice to see where little Shane slept every night before becoming big hockey star.”

“Shut up,” Shane rolls his eyes, making like he’s going to push out of Ilya’s arms even though he makes no active effort to do so.

“I am serious. I bet you were so cute with all your little hockey trophies. Best player on every team, weren’t you?” Ilya muses knowingly as he noses along Shane’s jawline. “Probably just as intense even back then. I can picture Yuna throwing a fit at your coach for not giving you enough playing time,” he teases.

“Whatever,” Shane mutters, but Ilya can tell he’s smiling by the warmth in his voice. “And I don’t think I was intense. I was a kid, you know? It was just…fun.”

“Is it not fun anymore?” Ilya asks him genuinely, rubbing his stubble against Shane’s neck for the way it makes him shiver.

Shane doesn’t respond immediately, though Ilya can feel his throat bob as he opens his mouth like he’s trying to come up with the right answer. “I— no, I mean, it is. It’s just different now, I guess.”

“Different because you are on team Ottawa?” Ilya tries to question casually, even as he holds his breath while waiting for Shane’s reply.

“No,” Shane exhales without a second thought, which Ilya is grateful for. “If anything, it’s more fun now that I’m playing for Ottawa. More fun now that I’m playing with you,” he adds, almost like he knows how important that piece is to Ilya. “Plus, I don’t know if you’ve been watching Montreal lately, but…they’re not doing as well as they probably thought they were going to do without me.”

Ilya snorts into Shane’s skin, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye this time. “That’s because they are fucking idiots if they actually believe they can win the Cup without you.”

He loves the way it prompts a sly grin from Shane.

“They’ll probably make it to the playoffs. I mean, they’re still a great team—”

“Please,” Ilya scoffs. “They will make it to the playoffs, but with the way they have been playing recently, I doubt they could even beat us right now. Let alone some of the higher-ranking teams.”

“Well…” Shane sighs, shaking his head. “I guess we’ll see after Christmas, right?”

That’s right. They’d have their first home game against Montreal directly after New Year’s, and though Ilya was feeling a lot better about their chances this time around, he was still worried about the Voyageurs and their stupid vendetta against Shane. Not to mention the fact that Shane was still clearly struggling with some of the comments they’d made towards him.

Knowing the Voyageurs, they were probably going to play just as dirty as they had the last time, if not even more so, considering the Centaurs have been on fire lately. They’ve finally found their stride, and Ilya thinks Montreal has every right to be scared going into this next game. Ilya has full confidence that his boys will take those stupid fucks, but more than anything, he just hopes they can walk out of the match without any serious consequences—mental or physical.

“Have you talked to Hayden recently?” Ilya asks because he, personally, hasn’t heard anything from the Pikes in a while.

“Yeah. I mean, he said he’s coming to the bachelor party that weekend, but other than that…” Shane shrugs, not entirely meeting Ilya’s eye line.

Ilya chews on his lower lip in thought. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers lightly, since apparently he’s a master communicator after attending a few therapy sessions. But Shane just shrugs again.

“There’s not much to talk about, really.”

“You know, you do not have to invite him to your bachelor party if you don’t want to,” Ilya reminds him. “It’s supposed to be your day. You shouldn’t have anyone there if you don’t want them to be.”

“No, it’s not that,” Shane shakes his head. “Hayden’s family still, you know? It would be weird not having him. It’s just…” he trails, sighing. “I think it’s hard with everything that’s happened. Knowing he’s around those guys all the time. Knowing how homophobic they are and how much they probably hate my guts. I mean, it’s awkward, right?”

“Yes,” Ilya agrees without question. As much as he has accepted Hayden and the Pikes as Shane’s very close, and practically family-level friends, he can’t deny how uneasy it makes him that Hayden is constantly surrounded by people who are praying on Shane’s downfall. It isn’t that Ilya doesn’t trust Hayden around Shane, but mostly he just doesn’t enjoy the idea of him sitting idle while his teammates spew filth about the love of Ilya’s life. There’s a certain depravity to Hayden being complacent that still leaves a vile taste in Ilya’s mouth.

“I don’t know. Whatever. I mean, I’ve known the guy for almost ten years. Since we were rookies. He’s been there for me countless times. I’m not going to cut him off just because the rest of the guys are assholes. Especially since he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No,” Ilya relents, tipping his head in consideration. “But it is also not crazy to want to be around people who accept you fully, and you have a lot more of that here than you did back when you were living in Montreal. It doesn’t make you a bad person if you don’t feel as close to him as you used to. Your needs have changed. It makes sense that the people in your life have changed, too.”

Shane doesn’t answer, his eyebrows still pinched together in thought, so Ilya distracts him with a kiss on the lips to pull his mind from the not-so-cheery topic.

“Do you wanna decorate the tree now? I can make us some hot cocoa?”

Ilya laughs at the way Shane wrinkles his nose in distaste, unable to help leaning forward to press a kiss there, too.

“Okay. I can make myself some hot cocoa, and I can make you some special peppermint tea. Festive, моя любовь, yes? I am trying to be festive,” Ilya reminds him, squeezing Shane’s hands in his.

Shane rolls his eyes, but it earns Ilya a genuine smile at least, so he can’t really complain. As far as he’s concerned, he’d do pretty much anything to see that smile.

So, for the next few hours, Ilya and Shane decorate their first-ever Christmas tree together. Ilya playfully tangles Shane up in the lights to tug him into a makeshift bondage kiss. He balances Shane on his shoulders, despite Shane’s protests, to lift him up high enough to place a star on the massive thing. He nearly bursts into tears at the most precious, most terrible art project ornament from baby Shane’s 1^st grade class. Signed sHaNE, for some reason, because Shane had liked to capitalize letters with straight lines and believed all letters with curvy lines should be lowercase. And Ilya is so fucking endeared by it that he practically tackles Shane to the ground to attack him with even more kisses.

He’s having the time of his life, and they’re not even doing anything. He thinks his therapist probably knows what she’s talking about. She seems to understand things enough to be able to connect the dots, to draw parallels that Ilya’s never considered before, but there’s one thing that she will never understand, and it’s that Shane is the absolute best person on this entire Earth. He thinks if she knew that, then she would understand why Ilya’s so scared of losing him. He thinks that anyone in the world would understand.

-

Ilya is covered from head to toe in Gatorade. He’s sticky, he smells like watermelon berry, and he’s wondering why in the world he hasn’t gotten a text back from Shane. Normally, a shirtless photo alone was enough to warrant an immediate response, but a wet shirtless photo going entirely unacknowledged for thirty-plus minutes?

Ilya checks Shane’s location just to make sure, but no; Shane is still at home. He hasn’t gone out to run a random errand, hasn’t disappeared to buy some weird ingredient for a new smoothie recipe he wants to try out, or stopped by Troy’s to talk about…whatever it is that pets talk about. He’s just at home. The timestamp on his location shows he’s been there since Ilya left.

So, why no answer? Ilya’s out here slaving away for this expensive-ass wedding all on his own, and Shane is leaving his best, most sponsored thirst traps on read? Absolutely not. Unacceptable. Ilya dials his cell phone without a second thought, but it rings seven times before going to voicemail.

Ilya curses and slams his phone down on the table. Maybe Shane’s fast asleep. Maybe his prize-winning kitty is so happy and relaxed in the beautiful home his owner bought for him that he’s just snoozing away without a care in the world. Ilya breathes in…and out.

Am I feeling helpless right now, his brain wonders. Is this what she was talking about?

Ilya rips himself away from that thought bubble at the sound of his name.

He still has another hour left of the shoot, so he tries to take his therapist’s advice and…embrace the helplessness. The uncertainty. He tries not to let his thoughts spiral out of control. Worst-case scenarios. Is Shane mad at him? Did something happen? Is he hurt? Injured? Asleep, maybe. He could be asleep.

Even if he is mad at Ilya, Ilya will surely find a way to make it up to him. To earn his trust back. The odds of him being injured are…slim. Probably, right? Because he’s just been at home the whole time. Maybe a small injury, but nothing major. Nothing that would keep him from answering the phone. But why isn’t he answering the phone?

Asleep, his mind settles on. He must be asleep.

“Ilya, relax your face a bit for us. Actually, can we get some more Gatorade on him? Maybe a shot of him shaking out his curls. We’ll do it in slow mo.”

In an instant, people are rushing all around him to make it happen. Jesus. He doesn’t know how Shane does this all the time with his horde of sponsorships. Especially Shane, who hates things like being sticky—from anything other than Ilya’s cum.

Ilya sucks in a deep breath and tries to push his assaulting thoughts aside. Shane is probably perfectly good and safe at home. He wills that thought into existence with the hope that it’ll somehow make it more true.

-

“Shane?” Ilya asks as he steps through the door of an otherwise seemingly quiet house. “Sweetheart?” He calls again, while toeing off his shoes. “I’m home from the Gatorade shoot.” He’s freshly showered, too, his curls still damp and drying against his neck. He only went 25 over the speed limit his entire way home.

The house is toasty warm, he realizes as he steps further into the entryway, almost like Shane has decided to light a fire. And sure enough, when Ilya gets to the living room, he can feel the warmth of the flames on his skin, but there’s something much more glaringly obvious that steals Ilya’s attention before he can process the fire for even a single second because…

Shane is tied up in the living room.

Ilya feels all the blood drain from his face.

His first thought, like always, tends to be the worst. Who did this? As kinky and magical as his fiancé could be, rigging, at least, was a two-person job, meaning someone had to be the rigger. So, who the fuck had been qualified enough to tie Shane up like this? And what the hell was their goal in doing so?

Because Shane isn’t just tied up, no; he’s tied up pretty. Like a fucking Christmas present in front of the tree, his arms secured in long, red, satin ribbons with just enough slack to let Ilya know that this was done by an expert.

The ribbon is also tied in a bow over his mouth, like a makeshift gag, and when Ilya looms slowly closer, he notices the over-the-ear headphones with massive cat ears on top. Shane’s blindfolded, and naked, save for some lacy candy cane stockings that meet at a garter around his waist.

Ilya feels dizzy for more reasons than one. His name is written in what looks like lipstick over Shane’s chest. Large swooping letters that say, ‘ILYA’S’. Arrows pointing to Shane’s cock, which is hidden behind the fabric of satin red panties, and more lipstick that spells out, ‘Open Me’.

There’s bile rising in his throat. Has someone done this to Shane as a warning to Ilya? Are they being recorded right now? Livestreamed across the nation? Who the fuck would leave Shane naked and tied up with zero supervision? All of his senses taken away from him. No way for Shane to speak up and call for help if he needs it.

Who touched Shane’s body? Maneuvered him like this. Left him vulnerable and deeply, deeply at risk. Ilya’s inner Dom is sounding out the alarms. His fingers buzz with a need to intervene, but it’s like his body hasn’t come to terms with what it’s looking at yet. Before he gets a chance to make sense of it, his phone vibrates in his pocket.

He quickly reaches for it and brings it to his ear on autopilot, readying himself for the world, as he knows it, to come crashing down around him.

“Ilya. Are you home yet? Don’t freak out.”

Ilya’s eyebrows pinch in urgent confusion. “Ivan?”

“He asked me to help him with this. I’ve got a baby monitor sitting on the mantle of the fireplace.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Ilya demands to know, hissing into the phone.

“He wanted it to be a surprise. For your Christmas gift. Asked me to tie him up and keep an eye on him until you got there. He’s listening to some of your voice notes on the headphones to get warmed up. He hasn’t been tied up long, I promise.”

“He is gagged,” Ilya gets out quickly, his eyes darting back to Shane like the other is at risk of suddenly disappearing before his very eyes. “How would you know if he needed to safeword? How would he tell you if the ribbons are too tight? If he’s losing circulation. If he’s panicking. If he needs help.”

“He can talk through it. We tested it before I left. I’m only a few cars down from your house, Ilya. I’ve been listening out for him the entire time, okay? If anything happened, I was just going to run in and untie him.”

“He’s fucking naked. I mean, Jesus. What the fuck, Ivan?” Ilya scoffs.

“Oh, please.” Ilya can practically hear Ivan’s eye roll through the phone. “He has his little Christmas outfit on. I wasn’t fucking ogling your boy, Rozy. You can trust me on that. He wanted to surprise you, and he asked for my help. I figured if I didn’t say yes, he was just going to go ask someone else. Is that really what you would have wanted?”

“Fucking christ,” Ilya curses, pressing his hand to his face as he tries to calm himself down.

His Shane was a dream come true, but he was also a fucking menace who could give Ilya a heart attack thirty times a day and whiplash like no other.

“Боже мой. Мы можем уже уйти?” Ilya hears faintly, and suddenly, it feels like every single cell freezes and ceases to exist inside his body.

“There’s some stuff in your stocking on the mantle. He’s okay with you using anything in there for your scene tonight. Just don’t forget to turn the baby monitor off.”

Ilya’s hand snaps out to reach for it and switch it off fast.

“I swear to you, I was super careful with your precious котёнок, okay? I even made sure he had enough slack in the ribbon in case he wanted to turn the headphones off.”

“Does this have a camera in it?” Ilya demands to know, turning the device over in his hand. “Ivan, answer me right fucking now.”

“What? Of course not. It’s just audio, Rozy. Relax.”

“Relax? Relax?” Ilya laughs in complete and utter disbelief. “You are at my house tying up my fiancé, and you decided it was a good idea to bring Sasha with you? Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you have a fucking death wish, Ivan? Tell me, because I am having trouble coming up with one single reason why I shouldn’t be out of my mind livid right now. You are unbelievably stupid and irresponsible if you thought I would feel otherwise.”

“He wasn’t fucking with me,” Ivan bites back. “He was picking me up after. I knew you were going to be home any minute from your commercial or whatever, so I figured I’d just wait in his car until you got in.”

“You figured you would just wait in Sasha’s car while you watched Shane strung up naked and helpless in my living room?”

“Okay, there’s not a camera, Ilya. No one is watching anything. And Sasha’s not even paying attention. I was listening out for Shane. I was waiting for you to get in. I was going to call you, and we were going to leave. That’s it.”

“Передай Илье, что мне глубоко насрать на него и на его тупой саб.”

Ilya grips the phone very tightly in his hand, ready to deliver his final piece of venom before he heads off to deal with the stunningly beautiful mess that Ivan has made all over his living room. “I don’t want you to ever bring that pathetic piece of trash around me or my Shane ever again. As long as you are seeing him, you are banned from both of my clubs, and you are a terrible friend to me and Shane if you don’t understand how absolutely inappropriate and despicable this is. You know exactly how I feel about Sasha, you know the terrible things he has said to me and my partner, and yet, still, you act with complete selfishness. You endangered Shane tonight by bringing him here, and I will never, ever forgive you for that.”

If Ivan says anything in response, Ilya doesn’t hear it, hanging up before he can give the other a chance. He has much more important things to spend his time on right now. Like the beautiful kitten left gift-wrapped by the tree.

It’s been two weeks since Intro to BDSM night. Two weeks since Ilya’s drop. They haven’t scened since. Not anything dedicated, at least, and certainly not anything like this.

But Ilya knows Shane better than anyone. He knows that Shane would not take kindly to Ilya rejecting him after he’s gone to all this trouble. And especially considering how Shane’s mind works, if Ilya knows anything about him at all, he knows that Shane has probably been planning this for a very long time. Ilya’s Christmas gift, for crying out loud. Thought through to every minuscule detail; made special just for him.

He’s fighting off tears for so many reasons right now, but more than anything, he feels shaken up. The emotional rollercoaster of thinking someone had done this against Shane’s will, to finding out the truth, to having that false sense of security ripped out from under him in exposure of a different reality that’s still just as hard for him to swallow in the moment.

Shane, to his part, looks none the wiser. His face is soft and relaxed from what Ilya can see of it behind the blindfold. His wrists look limp and comfortable. He hates to admit it, but it eases his worries slightly to know that Ivan has, at the very least, done a good job with Shane’s restraints. If he was telling the truth about the baby monitor, then perhaps Sasha hadn’t seen anything. Maybe he really didn’t have any involvement in this. Maybe he really was just there to pick Ivan up.

But either way, it’s a breach of privacy. A line crossed. The thought of Sasha being anywhere near Shane when he’s like this makes Ilya sick to his fucking stomach. He swallows back the feeling of acid coming up his throat.

He doesn’t want to leave Shane on his own for a single second longer, but instead of rushing into things, he forces himself to take a walk to the kitchen as a means of calming down.

If he can strip away all the other factors, try to do his very best to put Ivan and Sasha and their betrayal far from his mind, he can admit that Shane looks absolutely delicious all strung up for him. So much so that his mouth is dry as he downs half a glass of water, trying to psych himself up for what’s to come. He breathes in…and out.

On any other day, the sight of Shane like that would have sent him into a fervent frenzy immediately, without question, but with the events of the past ten minutes, Ilya senses that terrible feeling starting to creep in again. Helplessness.

He can’t control everything. Not every second of every hour of the day. Shane planned to do this in a manner that, ordinarily, Ilya might have considered to be…decently safe. Ivan’s been a friend to him for many years now, and he’s been there for Shane more times than Ilya can count, but most importantly, he knows what he’s doing with restraints. Shane knows that, too. And that’s why he asked their mutually close friend to help him with this. But Shane could never have predicted Sasha, and Ilya could never be upset at him for this; mostly he’s just scared. Shaken up. Worried about what it means now that Ivan has resurfaced this terrible person from their past.

Control isn’t a catch-all solution, and maybe Ilya has been trying to lean on it too much emotionally, but even his therapist agrees that there are benefits to Ilya taking control at times of uncertainty. He thinks this would classify as one of those times—throwing himself into a role that he knows very well, trusting himself and his ability to take care of Shane like always, even if he doesn’t know what’s around the corner. If his actions can actually influence the end result, then it’s a worthwhile pursuit; it’s when he starts trying to predict the unknowable that his thoughts tend to get a little out of control. And neither him, nor Shane could have ever known this. They couldn’t have predicted it. Shane did everything right, and still, something went wrong. Like things are bound to do at one time or another.

Ilya’s Shane senses had been tingling, he thinks back to his worry at the Gatorade shoot. No, he thinks just as quickly, shaking away that thought thread before it can spiral out of control. He couldn’t have prevented it because Ilya couldn’t have fucking known. There’s nothing he could have done differently.

He downs the rest of his water and then places his cup a little too heavily in the sink, a chunk of glass chipping off the bottom. Ilya curses, holding his hands up to double-check he hasn’t been cut somehow.

“Get it together,” he tells himself seriously, closing his eyes briefly before he pushes his hands through his hair and puts on his game face.

If there’s one thing Ilya knows how to do, it’s Dom Shane. He thinks he could probably do it in his sleep by now, and he’s already made a couple corrections to his mental checklist after Shane’s last near-drop experience. He’s ready. He wants his gift. He feels confident in his ability to receive it.

The second Ilya crosses the barrier between the kitchen and the living room, it’s like his mind switches over. He approaches his dream of a fiancé slow and steady because he doesn’t want to spook Shane. After potentially thirty minutes in the dark, he might startle at any sudden touches, so Ilya starts with a gesture that Shane knows well—one that will tell Shane it’s Ilya with him before his mind can go anywhere else.

-

“And if I was there right now, I would kiss you to death. Every inch of your perfect skin. It’s like a drug to me. I know it’s stupid, and everyone has flaws, but like…you don’t,” Ilya laughs warmly into the phone. “Not to me, anyway. I find everything about you endearing.”

Shane’s heart picks up from where it’s been beating calmly within his chest, his lips curling subconsciously into a smile.

“I think I fell in love with your freckles first.”

Shane is lost in the darkness. He’s feeling loose, and hazy, and peaceful. Ilya’s voice is getting him to that really nice place where he can just sort of let go.

Then, Shane moans at the sudden feeling of deliberate fingers slipping through his hair, giving him a scratch so nice that Shane has no doubt it’s Ilya. His cock is half hard in his panties. Shane wiggles his tongue a little around the ribbon in his mouth, sighing softly at the feeling of spit dripping down his bottom lip onto his chin.

“Love of my life, baby. The fact that I get to marry you…I still pinch myself sometimes, you know? It doesn’t feel real…how happy I am. It’s the fact that you’re better than I could have even imagined. Like, I knew we’d be good together, but this good? This perfect? We’re soulmates, Shane. I know it. I think something within me has always known it.”

Ilya’s hand settles on his jaw and tips his face up. Shane feels light-headed in a good way at the fact that he can’t see him. There are fingers on his wrists, touching his hands, no doubt checking for color and for temperature.

“My first thought of every day is about you. How you slept. If you had good dreams, or bad ones. How I can’t wait to kiss you. Я люблю тебя целовать.”

Shane gasps when Ilya’s hand glides across his abdomen this time, petting warmly over Shane’s skin before sinking lower until he’s cupping Shane’s cock through his panties.

“Ngh,” Shane lets out because he still can’t hear anything outside of Ilya’s prerecorded voice in his ears. He wouldn’t know how to get his mouth to form words if he wanted to. There’s a sudden rush of air as one side of his headphones is lifted away from his face.

“Pretty kitty Christmas gift tied up special just for me?” Ilya rumbles into his ear. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Shane pants against his gag, twisting in his restraints.

“I’m right here, precious,” Ilya vows, grabbing onto Shane’s chest groundingly. “You are okay, yes?”

Shane nods three times in quick succession.

“You are green for me, right? It is not too much? Let me hear your voice, please.”

Shane fumbles with the way his tongue is still loose in his mouth. “Mm, gr—green,” he says, though it comes out slightly muffled.

Ilya takes in a measured inhale. “I am taking these headphones off, okay? I need you to be able to hear yourself so you can color properly. Is not safe,” he practically whispers the last part, but Shane is so distracted by everything else going on that he barely hears it. Ilya rubs his hand over Shane’s cock again.

“Ah,” Shane whimpers, wiggling to try and get more of the sensation. He’s able to move around quite a bit, but he still doesn’t go anywhere, secured in place by lots of things that he can’t really picture in the fuzzy shapes reigning over his dark abyss.

“Naughty little toy. I heard you left some surprises for me. Is that right?”

Shane nods, making another noise from behind the ribbon splayed across his lips.

“Want me to use you, darling? What’s that say? It says Ilya’s, doesn’t it?” Ilya hums, rubbing his thumb in circles over Shane’s nipple. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Mine to do whatever I please with.” He ducks closer until Shane can feel Ilya’s breath on the shell of his ear. “Hey, no matter what I say to you during this scene, you know you’re my good boy, right?” Ilya says huskily, and his voice is genuine, rather than the slightly taunting tone he’d taken on before. “I love you so much. This is roleplay. And if it becomes too much, then we will stop. You use your colors no matter what, okay? Let me hear your color again.”

Shane whines because the last thing he wants to do right now is talk, but Ilya gives his hair a little tug in reprimand.

“If you cannot give me your color, then you are going to lose your blindfold and your gag.”

Shane’s throat goes tight as tears well up in his covered eyes. He can feel his lower lip wobbling, the line of spit dripping from his chin down to his chest. Ilya doesn’t say anything else, but he does trace his fingers up Shane’s neck, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Shane’s wet, quivering bottom lip. Shane tries to lean closer to him on instinct.

“Sh,” Ilya soothes, cupping Shane’s jaw to fasten his lips to Shane’s neck. “Your color, babydoll.”

Shane nearly chokes on his own spit trying to answer. “Gr…gree-n.”

“Good boy.” Ilya’s tongue traces along the ridges of his ear, and Shane shivers at how weird it feels when he can’t see or touch. He’s a prisoner to Ilya’s advances, a vessel to take whatever Ilya deems him worthy enough to receive. “What a fucking present. I bet everyone wishes they had you under their tree this year, but you are all mine, isn’t that right?”

Shane moans his agreement.

Then, suddenly, Ilya isn’t touching him anymore, and since Shane no longer has his headphones on, it’s quiet all around. He doesn’t know what’s going on, can’t anticipate Ilya’s next move, can’t prepare himself for whatever’s coming.

Shane cries out at the feeling of vibrations against the head of his cock through his red, satin panties.

“Even with this useless excuse for a gag, you can’t keep fucking quiet. It’s like you want to scream it from the rooftops that you’re mine, yes? Want everyone to know what I do to you, don’t you?”

The vibrator is pressed against his actual skin this time, like Ilya has pulled the panties down just enough for the tip of his erection to peek through. He’s so sensitive, and with everything else drowned out in the background, it’s all he can focus on.

Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. He shouldn’t be this close already, but Ilya knows his body well, removing the vibrator all at once as he fondles Shane’s balls next.

“I can’t decide if I want to deny you all night or make you come ten times in a row,” Ilya hums, like he’s genuinely pondering what to do. Like this night is a choose-your-own-adventure and he’s trying to determine which path will ultimately result in the best ending.

Shane isn’t the right person to ask, seeing as he’s operating on only a few working brain cells at the present moment. He revels in the fact that Ilya wouldn’t give him the choice even if Shane was in a better mindset to make it. He’s just his Dom’s toy for the evening; an object for Ilya’s amusement.

“Cock ring,” Ilya notes, possibly going through the bag of goodies Shane left for him.

Shane squirms against his restraints in anticipation.

-

Denial is an option, then. An option that Shane’s giving him. An option that Ilya used to love, and even favor, at one time or another, but everything changed once he adopted his perfect kitten. Denying Shane didn’t appeal to him too often these days. Mostly, Ilya just wanted to give him everything and more. But the cock ring is staring him right in the eyes, and with the way Shane has reacted to the vibrator, Ilya thinks this will be a very short session if he doesn’t give him something to stave off his orgasm a little longer.

Maybe a short session is a good thing, his brain reasons, because he’s still sort of in limbo over what to do, with last scene’s drop fresh on his mind. Maybe a shorter scene would be better. Maybe their scenes have been too long lately, and Shane would do much better with something intense spanning over a smaller period of time. But he doesn’t want to cut the scene too short either by being overly cautious. This is Shane’s Christmas present to him, for crying out loud.

“Shh, baby. Be patient for me,” Ilya shakes his head in amusement when Shane lets out another whine. “I want to take my time opening my present, especially with all the toys you left for me to unwrap. Oh, there’s a spiked roller.” Ilya takes it out of the stocking, eyeing the pinwheel in interest. Shane probably wouldn’t take too kindly to Ilya using that on him full force, but it is in the bag, which means that it’s surely on the table for this evening’s events.

He feels his heart pick up a little at the sight of a small blush palette and a makeup brush. Given the range in assortment of items, it’s clear to him that Shane really thought of everything, that Shane had wanted Ilya to have his way with him. Whatever Ilya wants right now is his for the taking.

He reaches for the cock ring and the makeup brush, but he leaves the blush exactly where it is, stepping forward to start stripping Shane out of his red panties.

“I love this gift wrapping very much,” he comments, squeezing at the muscle of Shane’s thigh before giving him a soft slap in appreciation. He grazes his fingers over the garter, pulling at the edge of his thigh-high socks, letting them snap back against Shane’s skin just to hear the way it makes him whimper. “So festive for me. How’d you know exactly what I wanted for Christmas? My gorgeous boy.”

Shane reacts positively to that, still twisting in his restraints, but more like he wants to nuzzle up against Ilya rather than him trying to receive stimulation. Ilya feels his Dom instincts beginning to take over. If there’s one thing he knows how to do well in this world, it’s take care of Shane, and in this moment, it’s so therapeutic for him to do exactly that.

Lube, he thinks, stretching the flexible cock ring in his fingers as he glides back over to the stocking. They have some stashed in every room of the house, of course, but Ilya’s sure Shane has something special in mind. He smiles when he spots the warming lube, glad to see Shane had taken well to that with the Fire and Ice event.

Ilya uncaps the bottle to coat the cock ring, and thankfully, the lube feels good on his fingers. It’s a pleasant heat, building the longer it sits on his skin; Ilya thinks it’s going to be the perfect sensation for the plans that are forming in his mind.

He doesn’t want to make a mess of Shane’s panties with his lubed-up fingers, so instead of trying to take them off with his hands, he drops to the ground to start pulling them off with his teeth, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of Shane’s thighs as he does so. He stops once the lingerie has fallen low enough to free his erection, Shane’s cock bobbing against his tummy, while Ilya ducks to suck on his balls.

Shane is making delicious sounds from behind his ribbon gag, and it’s like music to Ilya’s ears because it lets him know that Shane can also let out a sound of distress if needed. He might not feel like talking or using a color, but Ilya will stay tuned in enough to ensure he’s alright. The number one priority for him tonight is keeping Shane safe.

He lubes up Shane’s cock next, getting him extra slick with the knowledge that he’s already hard, so the cock ring will have to stretch extra far to accommodate him. His husband’s gloriously huge fucking dick. In some ways, Ilya is curious as to what that dick might feel like inside of him, but trying to picture it is a whole different story, and when he does that, he finds that the most intimidating part is just how much prep he’d have to go through to make it fit.

For now, though, he slides his fingers across Shane’s perineum, circling his middle finger over Shane’s hole just to give him a taste of the warming lube. He can’t help letting his tongue dart out to lick at the bead of pre-cum blooming prettily from Shane’s slit, pausing with his lips around the head to moan and send vibrations all through Shane’s body, his own mouth tingling as the lube heats up from where their skin is pressed together.

He reluctantly removes his finger from Shane’s hole in order to put all his focus on the cock ring, using both hands to stretch it wide enough for him to start fitting it over Shane’s girth.

“Jesus Christ,” Ilya curses at the sight of him once the ring is settled at the base of Shane’s dick. He traces his tongue along the most prominent vein on the underside, cupping Shane’s balls in his hand to roll them between his fingers.

He’s still hearing good noises from Shane, but more than anything, he wants to taste them from the source. He wants to lick Shane’s drool from the slobbery hole that is his mouth, so he grips Shane’s hips and carefully hoists himself back up. He undoes the ribbon tied across Shane’s mouth, instantly diving forward to get a taste of him, while simultaneously swiping some of the heated lube across his right nipple. Ilya cups Shane’s tit hungrily as he licks against his lover’s lax tongue.

He’s more at ease than he was ten minutes ago; he can feel it in the way his shoulders are no longer carrying the weight. Some people had meditation, but Ilya…Ilya had Shane. The ultimate stress ball. He liked working Shane into a million different positions before putting him back together and tucking him in right where he belonged next to Ilya.

Shane is reacting beautifully to the warming lube, so Ilya makes sure to smear some across his other nipple as well, wanting to overwhelm him in all the different erogenous zones before he reaches for the makeup brush. He finds it adorable how much Shane has thought all of this through, that he was probably taking inspiration from the time Ilya put him in a skirt and spanked him over his lap like a pretty little schoolgirl, but Ilya has other plans for the makeup brush this evening.

He glides his hand down Shane’s abdomen to offer him a stabilizing touch to focus on before gliding the soft hair of the makeup brush over Shane’s sensitive tip. Shane tries to yelp, but Ilya cuts him off by shoving two fingers past his lips.

“Bite down if you are yellow or red,” Ilya tells Shane, a flurry of adrenaline rushing through him when Shane sucks on his digits, eliciting a moan.

So, Ilya teases him like that a bit longer. He strokes the brush up and down Shane’s length, keeping his touches featherlight and never in a way that Shane can anticipate. He drags the brush over his inner thighs just for the way it makes him squirm like he’s being tickled. He swirls it across Shane’s slit, back and forth; up and down, in tiny little circles until Shane is practically screaming into Ilya’s drooled-up fingers.

“That’s my good boy. Let me hear you,” Ilya encourages, licking across Shane’s collarbone, grazing his teeth gently whenever he sees fit. Lots of little touches, ones that will build into something bigger by the time Ilya is done with him.

He grabs the wand vibrator and presses it against Shane’s hole, turning it to its lowest setting for about twenty seconds before he switches to a higher one. Vibrations, and then the makeup brush. Soft touches, then powerful ones. Ilya sucks on Shane’s nipples in between. He maps his tongue all over Shane’s body, paying extra special attention to every freckle, every mark, every quote-on-quote ‘blemish’ because, as far as Ilya’s concerned, Shane has none.

Ilya loves Shane’s cock more than he loves most things in this world, but if he’s truthfully honest with himself, there are few things that he loves more than Shane’s ass. His husband’s glorious, wondrous ass that Ilya was confident could turn almost any man gay. He’d seen it happen with his own teammates—not that they’d cited Shane’s ass as a specific factor, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Shane’s ass was a wonderland. There were days where Ilya didn’t want to be anywhere other than up inside it. Today is no different.

He pulls off of Shane’s puffy nipple with a pop, taking another cursory glance at his lover to make sure he still seems like he’s emotionally in one piece.

“Can I have a moan if you’re green, baby?” Ilya requests, licking the spit from Shane’s messy chin.

Shane moans and sucks on Ilya’s fingers extra hard, like he wants to ensure Ilya gets the message so that the special treatment doesn’t stop. Ilya just smiles in response, shaking his head fondly as he pulls his digits past Shane’s lips to claim him in a slack lip-lock.

“Good boy, angel. Being so good for me. You’re sensitive, yes?” Ilya hums, cupping Shane’s cock again just to hear the way it makes him whine, his head dropping forward while he weakly pulls at his restraints. “That’s my kitten,” Ilya says, softer this time while petting over Shane’s saliva-covered cheeks.

He isn’t sure if Shane has something in mind for his ass tonight—possibly a specific plug he wants Ilya to use on him—so he meanders over to the stocking again just to take a cursory glimpse over the remaining items. He barely even has time to look at the plug options Shane left for him because he finds something more intriguing before he gets the chance.

It looks like…well, it looks like a joint of weed. Something flares in Ilya’s belly at the thought of Shane including it. He has no idea of Shane’s intentions behind the joint, but luckily, Ilya finds a lighter that gives him further indication before he can exhaust himself with trying to guess.

In case you’re in need of an ashtray, scrawled across it in Shane’s neat handwriting.

Ilya swallows thickly. They had talked about human ashtray before—it was on Shane’s original kink list of maybes—but they’d talked about it more recently, too, because Ilya was nothing if not planned and prepared when it came to trying new things with his baby kitten. Their discussion is still fresh in his mind, of course, the limits spinning around his head currently at the reminder.

The whole point of someone being a human ashtray wasn’t for pain; no, in fact, the main reason was that it was meant to be degrading. Ilya didn’t necessarily enjoy degrading Shane per se, but there was something to be said about Shane being useful, about Ilya using him as an object. There was a certain servitude to it that actually felt like it fit into their dynamic quite nicely, and Ilya can’t deny the way he feels dizzy with the weight of the joint and lighter in his hand.

Where the fuck did Shane even buy weed? He must have really wanted Ilya to have the time of his life tonight, considering the contents of this stocking. And based on their last conversation about this, given Shane’s experience with weed, Ilya is a little surprised to see that he’s given him the option so soon. But it’s there. It’s an option, and it’s one that Ilya’s considering very heavily, especially with how long it’s been since he last smoked weed.

Because how relaxing did that sound? It’s been a tough day, after all. It’s been a tough two weeks, maybe even longer. Ilya could handle a lot, and his life with Shane made everything worth it, but the idea of getting to just…unclench a bit? Ilya can’t deny how enticing it is. He knows he wouldn’t have an issue with Domming Shane while high. If anything, it might zero in his focus, make him more tuned in, and he knows that he could show Shane a much better time than Shane had experienced at some random bar with the guys when he was two seconds away from an existential crisis.

“We are going to try something new,” Ilya tells Shane decisively, making a split-second decision to start untying him. If this was going to work properly, then Ilya needed to make some adjustments, and Shane’s wrists were probably approaching their limit anyway. “You’re still with me, yes, sweetheart?” Ilya double-checks, massaging Shane’s right hand as soon as it’s free from the ribbon.

Shane immediately sags forward, resting all of his weight on Ilya, but he nods his head minutely against Ilya’s shoulder.

“Good boy. You did such a good job filling my stocking full of goodies,” he compliments, his heart thrumming in his chest when he gets a soft rumble of a purr from Shane in approval. “Know me so well, don’t you?” Ilya hums while undoing the second ribbon. “Knew exactly what I would want for my present. My absolute best kitty. That’s it. I’ve got you, princess,” he murmurs, peppering Shane’s neck with kisses.

Ilya takes his time thoroughly checking Shane’s skin to make sure he’s not experiencing any pain after being tied up, but once he’s done his due diligence, he helps Shane back into his satin panties and carefully presses him down onto his knees.

Ilya ducks to gently remove the blindfold from around his head, smiling when he finds Shane’s eyes are still shut like he’s waiting for the next sensation to hit. “My sweet, sweet boy. What’s your Alpha got to do to see those pretty eyes, handsome? I am going through withdrawals without them.”

Shane makes a soft sound that Ilya interprets to mean not much of anything. Shane is lost somewhere in outer space, probably, but he’s cognizant enough to follow instructions, almost like it’s wired into his DNA at this point; he’s answered everything Ilya’s asked of him so far, and before Ilya knows it, those gorgeous brown eyes are cracking open to meet his, and all Ilya can do is try not to melt into a pile on the floor at how stunning he is.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” Ilya shakes his head, stroking his thumb over the slight stubble on Shane’s chin as his boy adjusts to the dim light of the tree and the fire. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never going to take it for granted.”

Shane purrs again and nuzzles into his hand, prompting Ilya to pet through his hair fully. He’s a warm pile of sleepy allure on his knees for his owner—that is, until he spots the joint and lighter in Ilya’s hand. Hazy brown irises suddenly go big and wide under Ilya’s stare.

Ilya holds the joint up more intentionally, watching Shane’s expression for any sign of hesitation. “You are still green for me, right, angel?” Ilya’s eyes dart to the bob of Shane’s Adam’s apple as he swallows, but they zero in on Shane again once he receives a nod. “My best boy. Always so good,” Ilya rewards the response. “Thank you for staying present and keeping up with your colors. I am going to do just like we discussed, okay? If you start to feel weird, we will stop immediately. Can I have one more green from you to make sure?”

Shane answers this time by falling forward against Ilya’s knee, wrapping his paws around Ilya’s leg to hold onto him and press his kitten claws into the fabric of Ilya’s jeans. They dig in, and then retract. Green, Ilya recognizes the signal for what it is.

Ilya glances over to the mantle of the fireplace, spotting a dish that he’s certain has held a candle at one point or another, so he reaches for it as a makeshift ashtray, his other hand sinking through Shane’s hair to give him a solid pet. Ilya places the small dish nearby just so he has something as an option for any piece of ash that he deems too hot to discard on Shane. He’s going to approach this very carefully, erring on the side of caution. It would be better to have to tap out early than to risk going too far. And then…Ilya sparks up for the first time in a long time.

The first hit is fucking godly. It doesn’t feel like anything yet, but his body must recognize the taste at least, must recognize—in some form or another—what’s coming. He exhales around a big sigh, letting his eyes slip shut as he grips Shane’s hair once more. To him, this was the epitome of relaxation. A joint in his hand, a kitten at his feet—naked, ready to serve Ilya’s every wish. He’s hard in his jeans already, and the sight of Shane completely bare while Ilya hasn’t even shed his shirt yet is only helping to reinforce the dynamic that much further.

He takes another hit, and this time, instead of exhaling right away, he tips Shane’s head back, cups him by the chin, and blows the smoke directly into his mouth. Shane moans on contact.

-

Shane feels like he’s going to die. Ilya is giving over the air that he breathes. Shane’s reliant on it like a lifeline because he blinks and, suddenly, everything feels very far away. Everything except the comfort of Ilya’s steady weight in front of him. Shane’s head falls forward against Ilya’s leg when the other lets go of his hair, the sound of the joint sizzling as Shane’s owner takes another hit.

Shane knows the drill. They’ve discussed this part in detail. He knows Ilya has another real ashtray somewhere nearby that will take most of the heat—i.e., the big pieces—but still, the first crumb of ash to hit Shane’s skin jolts through him like lightning. It stings only a little; mostly, it feels like a zing of electricity, like Ilya has sparked something wicked inside of him. He’s being useful and good. His mind simmers like molten butter as Ilya takes him that tiny bit further.

“Look at you,” Ilya taunts. “Just a vessel to absorb all my bad habits once I’m finished with them. Taking the discarded smoke from my lungs, and now the fallen ash from my joint.”

Shane moans, nodding his approval of the words because they feel fucking good, and he’s not supposed to talk right now; he’s just supposed to exist. He goes willingly when Ilya tips his head back and serves him another helping of secondhand smoke.

“The smoke has to go somewhere. I don’t want it stinking up my fucking house, so you better be good and take it.”

Shane sucks in the smoke dutifully, holding it for a second like Troy taught him before exhaling what little is left back into the air around them. His fingers tighten around the back of Ilya’s leg, and they continue just like that.

Ilya smokes, Shane will get his leftovers, and then a tiny speck of ash will land somewhere on Shane’s shoulders or mid-back. They don’t hurt so much as they remind him of his place, but Shane is more than happy to serve his owner. His owner gives him everything, and Shane wants to give Ilya everything in return. He arches his back in order to please him better, in order to be more visually appealing for his owner to look at.

“That’s a hot fucking ashtray,” Ilya comments in appreciation, his words slightly muffled like the joint is poised between his lips. Shane jolts when a hand comes down in a slap on his ass cheek, Ilya gripping the hard-earned muscle between his fingers, forcing Shane’s blood to blossom and rise to the surface.

“Uh,” Shane whines because he can’t control himself. He’s deep, but he’s aware. He’s right in the good place where he knows what’s going on around him, but he still gets to have all the benefits of being Ilya’s property.

Fuck…Ilya’s property. That was different than being Ilya’s kitten, and Shane would be lying if he said he didn’t find it hot. Ilya wasn’t using pet names or being extra sweet to him; he was just benefiting from using Shane, and Shane was getting off on being used.

Ilya gives him one last puff of smoke, the high hitting Shane like a tidal wave that peters out into a million tiny little ripples as he exhales his final breath. He blinks up at Ilya to find the other rocking back and forth in front of him, or maybe that’s just Shane’s hazy vision, but either way, he sees the orange of the joint still flickering from where it rests in between Ilya’s fingers.

“I am all done with my smoke. I need to discard of it now. Are you going to be good for me?”

Shane pants as something desperate works its way through him, his mouth dropping open on its own accord. Fuck, fuck, fuck. They’d talked about this part too, but talking about it, and being in the moment—the feeling, the anticipation of it actually happening—is a whole different story. Shane’s insides are on fire. He’s jumping out of his skin like he’s going to explode. He presses his fingers intentionally into Ilya’s leg in anticipation.

“Be useful, come on. Tongue all the way out. Lift it up.”

Shane immediately lifts his tongue up at the command, keeping his eyes open and trained to Ilya while the other spits directly into his mouth. Shane’s breathing picks up in anticipation. He can feel the wetness of Ilya’s saliva pooling under his tongue, and the mere thought of Ilya’s spit sitting there in his mouth is nearly enough to send him over the edge. His cock ring won’t let that happen, of course, but the sensation is just as real.

Ilya’s grip on his hair is the only warning Shane gets before the joint gets put out right under his tongue, sending Shane into a flurried mix of emotions that he can confidently say he’s never experienced in his life.

Holy. Fuck.

Shane is frozen in place. There are so many sensations happening at once. He, physically, can’t move, otherwise he’ll risk inhaling the ash and hurting his throat, but it’s tough with the way Ilya’s saliva absorbs the heat from the joint, causing it to essentially vaporize and turn into boiling steam inside Shane’s mouth. Shane lets out a yelp as best he can while keeping his mouth poised wide open. The spit cools down almost as quickly as it had heated up, and then, Shane’s left with a whole new onslaught of feelings.

He’s Ilya’s garbage can. Ilya’s disposing waste in his mouth. Shane treated his body like a fucking temple, vetoing anything that he thought might have even a slightly negative effect on his performance, and yet, here he was, taking the butt of Ilya’s joint under his tongue like a stupid object that exists only for its owner. Shane feels tears prick at his eyes.

His mouth tastes disgusting. It’s so fucking revolting, the response his body and gag reflex have to the chalky grittiness of the wet ash. Not to mention the fact that Ilya’s just burned THC practically directly into his bloodstream, seeing as the tongue tissue is incredibly thin and lined with a ton of major blood vessels. Yeah, Shane is fucked to all hell. He’s exactly where he wants to be.

It’s taking every ounce of focus he has to remain perfectly still, but Ilya’s fingers scratching through his hair is the closest thing to heaven on Earth. Shane is six feet under in the clouds. He feels raw and animalistic, despite being nothing but furniture. He wants to lick the dirt from Ilya’s shoes next, wants to wait on his hands and knees by the couch until Ilya decides his feet are tired and need somewhere to rest upon.

-

Ilya feels sick to his fucking stomach. He thought the weed would relax him, and at first it did, but he’s not strong enough to see Shane like this right now. He’s waiting with bated breath for Shane to call yellow. Red. Safeword. Anything. Because Shane is gagging and flinching like it’s the worst experience of his life. He’s crying like all he wants is for Ilya to call him baby or princess. His cock is sitting neglected in his pretty panties, and Ilya hasn’t called him a good boy in over ten minutes.

Fuck. Why isn’t Shane using his colors? Maybe he can’t with all the ash in his mouth. Ilya reaches for one of the two water bottles left nearby, as well as a towel, because his Shane was fucking smart, and a planner, and he didn’t deserve to be treated like an object. Not when he was so, so special. Ilya’s anxiety spikes through the roof.

“Here, baby. Drink for me,” Ilya prompts, holding the bottle up to Shane’s lips. “Swish, don’t swallow, and then spit into the towel, please.” His hands are shaking as he talks Shane through it.

Shane coughs when the first round of ash finally comes out of him, Ilya immediately getting a second sip in him before walking him through the motions. His brown eyes are wet, his nose turning red the more he wipes it against the towel while Ilya tries to help clean under his tongue.

Ilya’s breathing is going a little ragged. He’s trying to keep himself together, trying to tell himself it’s all okay, but the terrifying feeling persists that this was a bad idea. A bad call on his part. Shane didn’t know his limits sometimes, but that’s where it was Ilya’s job to know them for him. His heart thumps erratically against his chest.

“You did good. Fuck, I’m sorry—” Ilya cuts himself off, feeling his emotions rise and rage up from where he’s been trying to tamp down on them. “Yellow. I need…I need to pause us for a moment. You’re doing everything right. You are doing so well. I just need a minute.” Ilya pets his fingers soothingly through Shane’s hair in hopes of offering some added comfort as he shuts his eyes and tries to get a grip. “Good boy. You’re so good for me. We’re only taking a second to pause.” He’s telling himself just as much as he’s telling Shane.

Shane clutches onto his jeans a little higher from where his grip had been previously, so Ilya’s gaze snaps open to look down at him, and when he does, he sees Shane’s damp brown eyes pleading up at him.

“It’s okay,” Ilya whispers, immediately dropping to the ground to comfort Shane by pulling him into his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You did so well. I’m sorry for doing that to you. I didn’t—” Ilya swallows, cutting himself off with a shake of his head because he doesn’t know what to say. He can’t fathom the fact that he just treated his husband like some dirty lamppost on the side of the road.

But Shane…Shane is purring in Ilya’s arms like the happiest kitten in the world. Ilya sniffles because he doesn’t understand. His heart is ricocheting loudly in his ears, his senses drowned out by weed and a million other stupid things that don’t matter to him even half as much as Shane does.

“Sh, it’s okay,” he says again, seeing as it’s the only thing he can think of in this moment. Seeing as he doesn’t fully understand Shane’s reaction, or his own, to be quite perfectly honest. Shane’s dick is just as hard as it was when they began, the base of it still trapped in the cock ring Ilya had put on him. It makes Ilya feel guilty because obviously Shane wants to get off. Ilya’s been teasing him for the better part of an hour, but he needs this before he can give Shane anything. He realizes it’s the first time he’s ever colored in his life.

Ilya pulls Shane close, rubbing his hand over Shane’s back to ensure the little flicks of ash haven’t done any damage. Ilya had been deliberate about tapping off the big pieces into the real ashtray, so it shouldn’t have hurt him badly, but he can’t help the way his worries have gone into overdrive. He takes an unused area of the towel and pours some water over it to give Shane’s back a gentle wipe.

As much as he’d like to sit here for much longer, he knows he has a whole list of things to do to take Shane down from this, and to make sure he’s taking care of himself, too. So instead of allowing himself to stew in his wallows, he secures his grip on Shane and carefully stands up with precious kitten cargo in his arms. He almost heads for Shane’s playroom on instinct, but he diverts at the last second because Shane’s playroom was usually a place where he was free to go into his kitten mindset, and as much as Ilya would love that, he doesn’t trust himself enough to take care of him right now. It would be best for both of them if Shane stayed human for the rest of the night. What they truly need is their own bed if he expects to bring Shane back up properly.

Ilya embraces the fresh air from their new destination of the master bedroom, glad to be rid of at least one of the reminders of his actions. He pulls a juice box from the mini fridge next to their bed and immediately crawls onto the covers next to Shane to help feed it to him. Shane hums, sipping dutifully at the straw while he leans against Ilya’s chest, Ilya’s jaw resting right on his forehead.

“You did really good for me, мой ангел. On your best, best behavior. I just…it felt very intense. To treat you like that and…” Ilya shakes his head, sniffing to keep the onslaught of tears from falling because he’s hyper-aware of the effect it might have on Shane in this state. Shane’s high, for crying out loud. Ilya should have vetoed this idea from the start. “I’m sorry if it was not what you expected. You could have colored, sweetheart. I would not have been mad.”

Shane closes his eyes from where Ilya’s been watching him through his peripherals, and Ilya could almost swear the edges of his lips curl up in a smile. “S’good,” Shane mutters.

For a second, Ilya doesn’t hear him. He frowns, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make out the past resonance in the now empty air, but Shane’s sipping juice again. Ilya rubs a hand over his shoulders in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. What Shane had been attempting to say hits him a few moments later. “Did you say it was good? Is that what you said?”

Shane keeps drinking his juice as he nods almost imperceptibly against Ilya’s chest.

“Fuck,” he comments lightly, feeling an invisible weight lift off of him. “Shane. I—you liked that?” He questions because it’s still not adding up in his brain. He might need Shane to confirm it thirty more times before it begins to compute and sink in.

Shane’s still barely verbal, but Ilya hears it this time. An undeniable hum in agreement. Ilya exhales and brushes some of Shane’s hair out of his eyes, ducking to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’m glad you did,” Ilya murmurs into his skin. “That makes me feel a lot better,” he exhales, squeezing Shane close to him. He gently redirects the juice box from Shane’s mouth to his own, taking a big sip before relinquishing it back to his lover. “I only want to make you feel good things, hm? If that was good for you, then I feel good, too.” And fuck, Ilya does. He’s so much more okay knowing that Shane is alright too.

-

Shane doesn’t remember falling asleep last night. He doesn’t particularly remember waking up this morning, but something is happening to him to suggest that he is, in fact, awake. Or should be, at least. His mind tries to catch up with his body.

“Uh,” someone grunts from behind him.

Shane scrunches his face up and wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion, pressing his fist against his eye in hopes of ridding it of slumber. What the fuck is going on, he thinks to himself.

“Oh Jesus,” comes a hissed whisper.

Shane moans on his own accord. Holy shit. Something’s inside of him right now. There’s a hand on his shoulder anchoring him in place as it goes deeper.

“Mm. Good morning,” Ilya’s rough, accented words come out of his throat, his voice raspy from disuse. “I think I owe you an orgasm.”

Shane reaches back, scrambling for purchase, for something to grab onto. He settles on the back of Ilya’s neck after finding that the other is lined up directly behind him. “I think you fucking do,” Shane agrees, throwing his head against Ilya’s shoulder when he drives the last final bit forward, his hips pressed right against Shane’s.

“Don’t be bratty,” Ilya scolds, but he’s circling his hand around Shane’s cock even as he does, thrusting into him while simultaneously tugging him off.

“Don’t tease,” Shane begs, his dick reacting with an eagerness that could rival even Troy Barrett. He’s already fired up and ready to go from last night. Even more now that he knows Ilya must have prepped him while he was still asleep.

“I’ve got you,” Ilya promises, and then he starts fucking Shane like he means it.

He’s hitting all the best spots inside of him, touching his body in all the nicest places, going from stroking Shane’s cock to positioning Shane’s knee so he can get better leverage to keep fucking him exactly right.

“Holy fuck,” Shane gasps, his mouth open as he pants heavily into the heated air around them. “Ilya, fuck. Oh, god. Just like that. Fuck. Please. Please.”

“You wanna come for me? Already? Does not even take long to get you a pleading mess for me?”

“I said don’t tease,” Shane reminds him, pulling a laugh from Ilya, who increases the speed at which he snaps his hips by tenfold. “Fuck, please. Please. I wanna come so badly. Please. Ilya, Ilya, uh, uh,” his words break off into little moans as Ilya fucks him faster and harder.

“You can last a bit longer, no? Seemed like you liked to be useful last night. Strung up for me like a decoration. Leaving me all kinds of toys to try on you. Being my ashtray,” he whispers that last part against the shell of Shane’s ear, and Shane goes fucking crazy squirming against him.

“I did,” he agrees without question. “I like being useful. I like being an object for you. Like being good for you,” Shane moans, tugging on Ilya’s curls from where he’s slid his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I wanna be good.”

“You’re so fucking good,” Ilya says fiercely, attaching his lips to Shane’s throat like he’ll somehow be able to burn the message into his skin. “Perfect little object for me. You’re so good at sitting still, being quiet, and looking pretty.”

Shane’s entire body seizes up, his muscles going stiff as he grips onto Ilya tightly and spurts all over his belly, his dick contracting in Ilya’s hand while it continues to spill out of him. “Fuck,” Shane whines, writhing in Ilya’s strong, withholding arms. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Ilya shudders behind him, his nails digging into Shane’s skin like he thinks Shane’s at risk of being taken from him. Shane preens at how possessive it feels, at how wanted he feels by Ilya at every second of every hour of the day. His husband is clingy, and Shane loves it. In fact, he shares a similar obsession.

“You never need to apologize to me,” Ilya tells him seriously after he’s come down enough from his orgasm to speak in full sentences again. “You could never do anything wrong.”

“I didn’t wanna come without your permission,” Shane pants out, smiling with his teeth at the ticklish row of kisses Ilya plants down his neck in response.

“You are so fucking perfect, god. I think I made you in a lab.” Ilya shakes his head, grazing his scruff over Shane’s neck in the process. Shane shivers at the sensation. “There is no way you are real. Is too much. Too good.”

“I’m real,” Shane protests, his heart fluttering in his tummy at the idea that Ilya could think he wasn’t.

“Mm, not possible,” Ilya hums playfully, and Shane realizes they’re both a little sticky with sweat. There’s peaceful silence, then a beat later, a sigh. “I am sorry if I scared you last night.”

Shane’s expression immediately morphs into a frown. “Scared me?” It takes a minute for his memories to catch up with the present. “Oh.” He wrinkles his eyebrows when the realization hits him. “Because you colored?”

Ilya hadn’t colored before, so maybe that should be a bit concerning. In fact, the only time Shane could even remember when Ilya had seemed like he needed to color was back at the cottage when Shane tried to Dom him. He’d been terrified that night, and Shane could see it in his eyes, could understand it even because he’d felt the same fear burning underneath his own skin. He doesn’t understand it this time, though. He doesn’t know what triggered it. Had it been something Shane did? Was it his fault Ilya felt like he had to tap out of the scene entirely?

“Yes. It is not because of anything you did,” Ilya immediately quells any of his worries, always the mind reader. Shane lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I just…I…I…” he stutters, then pauses, like he has no idea how to verbalize his thoughts.

“Hey,” Shane says softly, lying back against the pillow so he’s able to look at Ilya more directly over his shoulder while they’re still tied together like this. “What is it? You can tell me.”

Ilya sighs, letting his gaze drop past Shane’s to the bed sheets below them. He’s hovering over Shane, cock still buried deep within him and twitching from the aftershock of his orgasm.

Shane reaches out to direct his chin until their eyes meet. “I love you. You can talk to me about anything, okay? Especially this.”

Ilya’s face pinches as he swallows thickly. “It was a combination of things. Um.” His eyebrows furrow. “Can I…can I get us cleaned up and then we can talk about it?”

Shane’s own expression falters momentarily in concern, but he nods quickly to let Ilya know that he’s on board. He only feels a little empty inside when Ilya pulls out of him and disappears to get the wet wipes. What Shane was really in need of was a nice long bath with his husband, but this feels too important right now. They had to talk about it while it was still fresh because if Shane knew anything about Ilya, it’s that he would take any excuse to ignore his own needs in favor of taking care of someone else’s. His mind could be wonderful and terrible all at the same time.

Once they’re back cozy in bed, both sitting up so they can talk while looking at each other directly, Shane squeezes Ilya’s hand and gestures for him to explain why he colored.

“So, obviously you know I had that drop two weeks ago…” Ilya starts with.

“Yes,” Shane says softly, just so Ilya knows he’s present and alert to the conversation.

“That was scary for me. So, I think I was a little surprised to come in and find you tied up like that yesterday. It definitely caught me off guard. I had texted you earlier while I was at the shoot, and you didn’t answer, so um…it just…worried me,” he explains, his face rumpled like the memories are acidic as they resurface. “When I found you like that, I immediately assumed the worst.”

Shane’s frown deepens. “The worst? What do you mean the worst?”

“Like,” Ilya sighs, scrunching his eyes shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. Someone was trying to…hurt you. To hurt me. To hurt me by hurting you.”

“Ilya,” Shane says breathlessly.

“No, I know. Okay? Ivan called me,” Ilya waves off, and Shane relinquishes some of the tension that’s started building inside of him. “Only—” he pauses, hesitating like he’s trying to talk himself out of saying the next part. Or maybe talk himself into it.

“Ilya,” Shane demands again, gripping onto his arm to get him to pull his hand away from his face.

“I heard Sasha in the background of his call. I was—I didn’t know what to do, Shane. Okay? I was really fucking scared and angry and…and I felt so fucking betrayed…”

There’s a moment where Shane wonders if any of this is directed at him. He hasn’t even begun to comprehend what Ilya’s saying to him right now. Something about Sasha being…where exactly? With Ivan? Ivan wouldn’t do that. He’d never get back with Sasha after how horribly Sasha had treated him. He said himself that he didn’t feel safe.

“Not at you, baby. Of course.” Ilya seems to be able to pick up on his silence, giving Shane’s fingers a squeeze. “I just,” he heaves a heavy sigh. “I thought Ivan brought Sasha here. That Sasha might have been in our house when Ivan was tying you up or possibly watching from the car. He said the baby monitor doesn’t have a camera—”

“It does,” Shane interrupts, tipping his head at the way it makes Ilya freeze in place. “I mean, all baby monitors have a camera these days.”

“You are serious?” Ilya says very calmly.

“Yeah,” Shane replies slowly because obviously he knows about the baby monitor he bought with his own money—since Ilya had lifted the Shane-spends-Ilya’s-money rule for Christmas and other gift-giving holidays. “We didn’t hook it up or anything—”

-

Ilya doesn’t know whether to cry or explode. He has a million different emotions running around his head, and they’re all bad ones, each somehow even worse than the last.

“Ilya, talk to me. I don’t really understand. I thought we were talking about why you colored—”

Fuck. Ilya doesn’t even know where to begin.

“Because when I got here yesterday, you were tied up for me and I had no fucking idea how you got like that, Shane. I had no idea who had touched you, who had seen you like that, who was watching you to make sure you were safe, or if anyone was at all.”

Shane gulps like he feels guilty. Like he’s somehow done something wrong.

“No, it is not your fault,” Ilya soothes immediately, scooting further into Shane’s space to glide a thumb across his pillow-y freckled cheek. “You were very thoughtful in how you went about this whole thing. I am super pleased with how you handled it, and Ivan tied you very well, but the point is that, apparently, he asked Sasha to pick him up after. Yes. You are hearing me correctly. Sasha was with Ivan while he was still listening out for you on the baby monitor.”

This time, the revelation seems to resonate with Shane more than it did before, like the words are actually sinking into his brain rather than just sitting on top of it.

“And Ivan did not understand why this would upset me. He did not understand how huge of a betrayal it was, when the fact of the matter is, there is absolutely no point at which Sasha should be anywhere near you, and certainly not in your own home. Certainly not when you are vulnerable and under the assumption that you have a friend looking out for you. Because, as far as I’m concerned, that is not what a friend does. And I am so fucking sorry that I have brought these people into your life. I’m so fucking sorry that you have ever been made to feel unsafe in spaces that are supposed to be private and secure, especially when it is my job to protect you from all of it. I feel like I have fucking failed you.”

Shane is all over him before Ilya even realizes the massive sob that’s just torn its way through his esophagus and ripped his resolve into shreds. “Sh, baby, sh,” Shane coos at him, his big hands gliding over Ilya’s back in a soothing motion until Ilya has no choice but to completely surrender and let go.

“Fuck, Shane. This is my fault—”

“Hey, absolutely not,” Shane tells him fiercely. “I’m sorry for scaring you with my surprise. I should have given you a heads up, especially after your drop. There’s nothing wrong with you for reacting the way you did.” Shane pauses before saying his next line. “I…I don’t think Sasha was here while Ivan was tying me up, but I can’t be sure.” He says the last part in a whisper. “I guess I would have no way of knowing if he was.”

Ilya just cries harder at that.

“But it doesn’t matter, Ilya, because none of it is your fault. God.” Shane shakes his head, carding his fingers through Ilya’s curls. “I wish you would have told me you weren’t up for the scene. You didn’t have to do it for my benefit—”

“No,” Ilya rasps, the sound coming out of him abruptly like he doesn’t have full control of his reflexes, like his wires have been scrambled and his operating system is fried. “I did want to do the scene. Fuck, I wanted to do the scene so bad. You looked so fucking beautiful for me, and you...you really thought of everything, Shane. Really,” he sniffles, rubbing at his nose. “I guess the human ashtray thing just affected me more than I thought it would.”

Shane’s eyebrows press together. “What do you mean?”

Ilya huffs while trying to blink away some of the wetness from his eyes. “It made me feel awful to treat you like that. Seeing you gag over ash that I have just burned into your mouth.” Ilya’s face crumples as it hits him all over again. “Treating you like that made me sick to my stomach.”

“Oh,” Shane says quietly. Ilya wonders if it’s starting to hit him, too. “I, um…well, I sort of liked it,” Shane admits, almost like he’s shy.

“I know that now,” Ilya relents. “But my mind went to a dark place seeing you cry and react to the, you know, sort of vile things I was doing to you. I think it was just a culmination of a lot of different things. It’s nothing you did, though. I just didn’t want to risk hurting you, but I am sorry for being selfish because I am sure that was scary in the moment.”

“Ilya,” Shane replies, his voice filled with something that sounds a lot like pain. “You never have to apologize for coloring, and it certainly doesn’t make you selfish. It means you knew your limits and you kept us both safe. Meaning we both got to wake up feeling good and well-rested today. That happened because of you.”

There’s a slight smile to his voice this time, so Ilya risks a glance up at him in hopes that he can actually catch sight of one, and sure enough, it’s there. Lighting up Shane’s face. It makes Ilya’s heart flutter just like the day he very first saw him when the two of them were only seventeen years old.

“You did the right thing. And I am so much better off with you in my life. What happened with Ivan and Sasha…” Shane trails. Ilya flinches at the name. “It’s not your fault. It’s not either of ours, and I wouldn’t change our history together for anything in the world. The Good, the bad, the ugly, all of it.”

Ilya sniffles and burrows himself further into Shane’s chest, taking comfort in his intoxicating scent.

“If you don’t want to do the human ashtray stuff again, then we won’t,” Shane whispers into his hair, clutching Ilya close to his chest. “You’re allowed to say no to stuff too, you know? Just because I want to try something doesn’t mean we have to if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I pushed myself too far last night,” Ilya agrees, because even he could recognize that. Having the clarity of this morning and the conversation giving him the room to debrief everything with Shane is definitely helping. “I am not opposed to objectifying you in some way, but…I am not sure about human ashtray.”

“That’s okay,” Shane breathes out. “I respect your limits just as much as you respect mine. For what it’s worth, though, I found the whole thing super hot. Serving you like that,” he murmurs against Ilya’s ear. “Existing for your benefit. Getting nothing out of it except making you happy. Being useful to you,” Shane sighs heavily, like just the thought is getting to him.

Ilya rubs at his eyes and presses a kiss over Shane’s heart, then to the pendant of his collar. “You are always an object for my amusement.” He can feel Shane’s abs tense from under where Ilya’s hand is splayed on top of them. “But there is something more tender about you being my kitten than there is about you being a receptacle for my trash.”

It pulls a giggle out of Shane that Ilya isn’t expecting, which prompts an unexpected bout of laughter from him in return, which triggers Shane again, until they’re both giggling harder and harder, until eventually, they’re all laughed out, completely spent and collapsing into each other. Ilya hums when Shane’s smiley lips meet his mouth for a kiss.

“The weed was a lot better this time,” Shane grins against him.

“Thank fucking god for that,” Ilya puffs in amusement, his fingers tracing over Shane’s cheekbone. “Seriously. It was a really great present. You thought of everything. I was very, very impressed.”

Shane looks Ilya over for a moment before leaning in to give him a gentle, loving kiss, the bridge of his nose rubbing along Ilya’s as he pulls away. “Figured you wouldn’t mind me giving it to you a little early.”

“Oh, you mean you did not want me to come down on Christmas morning to you tied up in front of your parents’ tree?”

Shane laughs so hard that Ilya has no choice but to kiss him senseless this time. It’s a great way to spend Christmas Eve morning. The holiday hasn’t even officially started yet and, already, Ilya can say it’s the best Christmas he’s ever had.

-

By the time they get to the Hollanders’, come late afternoon, Shane and Ilya are feeling incredibly silly. They’ve spent most of their day lazing around and goofing off, taking advantage of the short, mandated time they have away from the ice. Naturally, they’re in an extremely good mood.

“Okay, boys, settle down,” his mom tells them when they can’t stop shoving each other on their way in. “Shane, did you bring enough stuff?” She asks as she makes her way back to the kitchen and out of their line of view.

“Mom, we’re only staying here for like two nights. It’ll be fine,” Shane sighs, but he laughs when Ilya pokes at his stomach in three separate places. Shane tries to catch Ilya’s hand in his to get him to stop. “Would you cut it out?”

“Mm, no. Is Christmas time, so I get to do whatever I want, actually,” Ilya declares, pushing Shane up against the wall of the entryway with two hands on his hips.

“We have to take our bags upstairs,” Shane reminds him, but he can feel his eyes going a bit hazy with the way Ilya is looking him over.

“Mistletoe, моя любовь,” Ilya practically purrs in his ear, glancing up pointedly to where the mistletoe is hanging over their heads. “You said it is bad luck.”

Shane rolls his eyes, but he happily accepts when Ilya leans forward to give him a kiss, his cheeks going a little warm at the gesture. “There. No bad luck. Now, would you put those muscles to good use and carry our bags?”

“Shane,” his mom calls out from the kitchen. “Ilya’s our guest. You can take your bags to your room.”

Ilya raises his eyebrows in delighted amusement. “Did you hear that? I’m the guest. I don’t have to lift a finger.”

Shane crosses his arms over his chest and fixes Ilya with a look that says, go ahead and try that; see where it gets you. Luckily, Ilya just digs his fingers into Shane’s sides, tickling him before swiftly grabbing both of their bags to head in the direction of Shane’s bedroom, Shane following dutifully smug behind him. When they get back downstairs, they join Yuna and David in the kitchen, his mom dropping a kiss on his cheek before she re-immerses herself in the meal they’re in the middle of cooking.

“No kiss for me?” Ilya whines, but Shane turns to give him one before he can distract his mother any further.

“They’re in the zone. Don’t bother them. How can we help?” Shane asks, going over to grab one of the spare aprons. He ties it on himself and then walks to the sink to wash his hands.

“You boys can start on the gingerbread cookies if you want,” David suggests, clapping Ilya on the back to greet him. “Good to have you with us this year. We’ll try to make it an extra special one.” He winks.

“Oh, I am not worried,” Ilya says in response, offering him a smile. “It is basically my first Christmas—in this way, at least—so it will be special regardless.”

“Well, we still want it to be the best time possible, so if there’s anything you need while you’re here, don’t hesitate to ask. And don’t be shy, either. This is your house, too. You’re welcome to anything in it,” Yuna tells Ilya seriously.

“Apron,” Shane reminds him, dropping the piece of fabric over Ilya’s head and tying it around his waist before the other can protest.

“Jeez. I did not realize I was among a family of chefs. This is pretty intense,” Ilya comments, but he’s wearing this goofy grin that’s making Shane’s heart flutter a little.

Shane leans in for another sly kiss on the corner of Ilya’s mouth, flushing when Ilya quirks an eyebrow at him in response. “C’mon. Let’s make the dough for the gingerbread.”

“We are seriously going to make cookies? Are we going to be allowed to eat them?” Ilya teases, pinching Shane’s hip.

“Well, Shane never does. But I, personally, will be tucking into those. So, make sure they’re extra good,” David chuckles.

“Aye, aye, captain.” Ilya offers him a little salute over his shoulder before meeting Shane’s eyes again, his gaze playful and light. Happier than Shane’s seen him in a while. “I’ll double the sugar, then.”

“Hey, no,” Shane warns, even as Ilya tries to take control of where Shane has already started on the dry ingredients. “Just…just let me do this part, okay? I’m going to need your big arm muscles for the mixing.”

“Oh,” Ilya immediately perks up, puffing his chest and flexing his arm muscles on instinct. “Yeah, I guess I can do that part.”

Shane’s lips curl in amusement when Ilya takes the bait as a distraction, giving him just enough time to finish measuring out all the ingredients to perfection. He gets everything situated, and then hands the bowl over to Ilya to mix, laughing when Ilya makes a big show of whisking it together. Shane pulls him closer by the loop of his jeans.

He’s having a good time, and he wonders why they’ve never done anything like this before. Probably because neither of them bake, Shane’s head fills in helpfully, but it’s nice to do something that feels low-stakes, for once. Like there isn’t a threat looming around every corner. In this moment, Shane can almost exist without fear. Almost.

But they only have a few days off from hockey, and their upcoming game against Montreal is still fresh on his mind. The Centaurs are a better team this time; Shane knows it. In some ways, though, he almost thinks that’s going to cause more issues. Like the Voyageurs will play harder because they know that Ottawa has a real shot at winning. Maybe they’ll even play dirtier, too.

“So, Ilya, we have a few Hollander family Christmas traditions that I should let you know about,” David explains while handling the prep for the main course of their dinner, which is a Christmas ham.

“Oh yeah?” Ilya questions, setting the mixing bowl down as he turns to address Shane’s father.

“Well, every Christmas Eve, we like to let everyone open one present early,” David continues, as Yuna juggles working on what looks like a handful of different dishes all at once.

“It’s literally just matching pajamas,” Shane spoils, just so Ilya doesn’t get his hopes up about the contents of the present. “So, we can all wear them tonight and wake up matching or whatever.”

“Shane,” his mom sighs in disappointment. “Don’t ruin Christmas for Ilya. Just because you’ve gotten to experience the magic of opening your special holiday pajamas doesn’t mean Ilya has.”

“Yeah, Shane. Stop trying to ruin Christmas for me,” Ilya laughs, tugging on the end of Shane’s shirt in admonishment. “Don’t worry. I’m going to deal with this little Christmas Grinch. I think he needs something to help him get in the Christmas spirit.”

“Oh, I know. I’ll put on some classic Christmas songs,” David replies cheerily at the idea.

“Dad,” Shane groans, dropping his head onto Ilya’s shoulder when his father exits the room momentarily to turn on some music.

“That’s more like it!” Ilya calls out when a classic holiday song starts blaring, and Shane tries so hard to hit him with the most scathing glare possible, but Ilya is twirling him in a circle before it lands.

Shane stumbles and falls into his chest, shaking his head in disbelief when Ilya wraps one hand around his waist, takes Shane’s in the other, and starts swaying them both to Jingle Bell Rock. Shane can’t help the way the ends of his lips curve up when Ilya spins him again, the music overly festive and joyous around them. But it isn’t until Ilya dips him that Shane gets to look directly into his eyes, see the romance and love swimming in the pool of Ilya’s brilliant blues, and have everything hit him all at once.

This is what all of his holidays would look like going forward. He’d get to do life with Ilya for the rest of forever. Every Christmas. Every New Year's and Valentine’s Day. All the ones where Shane had never had a midnight kiss, or someone to be thankful for, or someone to share it with. For as long as he can remember, it’s just been him and his parents. But now…now it would be Ilya, too. Shane wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. Starting here, he and Ilya would always have each other. His person he would turn to in every situation. The one who he trusted better than anyone.

Shane smiles fully when Ilya stands him back up. He feels slightly light-headed in more ways than one, but he leans against his husband with the knowledge that the other will always catch him—in this case, on his chest.

Jingle Bell Rock is about to end, and Shane knows they have to finish making the cookies so they can help with the rest of dinner, but it still feels good to revel in the embrace a little longer. It feels even better when Ilya wraps him in a big hug after the song is over.

“I think this may be my favorite holiday yet,” Ilya murmurs into his neck.

Shane just laughs wetly while clinging to him. “Me too,” he agrees without question. “Best one I’ve had.”

Ilya is grinning when they finally pull away from each other, falling back into sync with the cookies like they never left. Ilya rolls out the dough while Shane makes shapes with the cookie cutters. They fight over whether the oven is pre-heated enough because someone—not Shane—forgot to set a timer. Shane even lets Ilya feed him a tiny bit of raw dough that he somehow collected from scraping scraps off the side of the bowl.

“Yummy, right, моя любовь?”

Shane hates how much it is. Ilya’s resounding smirk is answer enough.

-

Eventually, when dinner is mostly done save for a few things still finishing off in the oven, they make their way over to the big Christmas tree in the middle of the living room. Ilya immediately takes note of all the ornaments, how half of them are homemade or look like they come with some kind of story or history behind them. It makes everything feel more lived-in, like this is a family with traditions that Ilya will soon be a part of. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding since he’s entered the house.

“Ilya, do you want to open yours first?” Yuna asks him as they all settle somewhere on the floor around the tree.

Ilya looks over to Shane for approval because he really doesn’t want to overstep, just wants everything to be Christmas as usual for them so he can appreciate and respect whatever traditions they have, but Shane offers him a nod, his eyes warm, like this is somehow just as special for him as it is for Ilya.

“Sure,” Ilya smiles, rubbing his hands together, and before he knows it, there’s a beautifully wrapped gift sitting in front of him, tied off in neat green ribbon. Thanks to Shane’s spoiler, he already knows what it’s going to be as he starts to rip the wrapping apart, but what Ilya isn’t expecting, however, is for the pajama set to be covered in Christmas cats. There’s a matching long-sleeve shirt and pants, and all over the maroon fabric are different kinds of cats playing in the snow and pawing at the string lights on Christmas trees. “Oh my god,” Ilya laughs excitedly. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuna smiles over at David. “We heard you’re a big cat lover, and with you and Moose joining the family this year, it seemed like an appropriate theme. We’d still like to meet your kitten at some point, you know? You should have brought her over.”

“Oh.” Ilya’s eyes go wide, darting to Shane momentarily. “Yes, well. She is a bit territorial. Does not take too well to not being the center of attention.”

Share glares at him in warning.

Ilya hugs the pajamas close to his chest, trying to fight off the feeling of warmth threatening to explode out of him. “This is very, very sweet. I love it. Thank you so much.”

When Ilya looks back over at Shane, he’s smiling, already reaching for his own present to start unwrapping it. Unsurprisingly, it’s the same set of pajamas, but it makes Ilya extra happy to know that Shane will be decked out in Christmas cats as well. That all of them will be. It feels like a very fitting start to his time as an official member of the Hollander family, and it’s then that Ilya realizes he needs Shane’s last name. He wants to be a part of this family in every way that he can be, wants everyone he meets to know that he’s a Hollander now. Ilya Hollander. The thought sends shivers down his spine. The idea that he and Shane will be married in less than a year.

They sit down for dinner soon after that, where David surprises him with Kutia, a traditional sacred Russian porridge that is usually eaten on Christmas Eve.

“I’ve never made anything like this before, so sorry if it’s not perfect, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it by next year,” David laughs, and for the fiftieth time this evening, Ilya tries not to cry. It’s just that he’s barely known the Hollanders six months now, and already, they felt more like his family than his father or brother ever did.

“We also made Pelmeni,” Yuna chimes in. “You’re giving us an excuse to try new things in the kitchen.”

“It’s just what we found on Google, and we didn’t want to ruin the surprise by asking you, but you’ll have to let us know for next year if there’s something specific you usually eat.”

“This is…” Ilya shakes his head, at a loss for words. “This is plenty. Really, you did not have to go to all this trouble. I would have been fine with Chinese takeaway,” he jokes because that’s what he and Svetlana ate on Christmas Eve last year.

“Nonsense,” Yuna waves him off. “It would be rude of us to not include some new traditions. Culture is important; we know that better than anyone. Besides, I’m sure there’s a lot of Russian food we haven’t tried before. You might have to give David and I some lessons. The stuff we’ve made so far has been pretty good!”

“You two are naturals already. The pelmeni is delicious,” Ilya comments, covering his face as he tries to talk through a mouthful of food. “Shane, you are going to offend me if you do not try some.”

“It doesn’t look very healthy…” Shane voices warily, but Ilya just rolls his eyes and presses the remainder of the meat dumpling against his lips until Shane has no choice but to accept a bite.

“You’re a good influence on him,” Yuna laughs, glancing over at her husband. “He wouldn’t eat anything last year. You’d think he was starving with how restrictive his diet was.”

That thought makes Ilya sad because he knows the reality behind Shane’s obsessiveness. He wasn’t just on a strict performance diet, though Ilya is certain that’s what it looked like to anyone close to him. In reality, he had been going to war with himself over the things he couldn’t control, the things that threatened to consume him if he let them fester for long enough—or so he thought. What he couldn’t have known at the time, however, was that there was a much easier way, and that was to let Ilya decide for him. Ilya, who had his best interests at heart always. He can already see the effects working from where Shane has let a tiny inkling of a kitten smile slip across his face.

“Yes, Mr. Hockey could stand to loosen up a bit,” Ilya concurs, giving Shane’s thigh a playful squeeze under the table. “Cannot survive on rabbit food and kitten kibble alone, but we are working on it. Holidays are a time where we can unleash a bit, no?” Ilya hums, being intentional about his wording, and Shane catches on if the look he gives him is anything to go off of.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t forget who walked away with the Cup last year and the year before that. And you were on a good team still, so you can’t even use that as an excuse,” Shane challenges.

“I am on a good team now.” Ilya sticks his tongue out at him. “Or didn’t you hear? My star center just broke a record.”

“Well. He had one hell of a Captain,” Shane declares proudly, nudging his socked foot against Ilya’s.

“Damn straight,” Ilya laughs, stealing some of the meat from Shane’s plate because he knows his husband has no intention of finishing it. Plus, it feels good to be domestic in front of someone other than the guys. In moments like this, Ilya is hyper-aware of the fact that they’ve only really gotten a chance to flaunt their relationship in team spaces—other than the club, of course, but that was a whole different dynamic; domestic wasn’t really the right word for it. But he feels comfortable around Yuna and David. More importantly, he feels comfortable expressing his love for their son around them; he thinks that’s a testament to the environment they’ve crafted, seeing as Ilya’s own father would have never let this fly.

“You boys are playing excellent, especially these past few games. You’ve really started to hit your stride,” Yuna notes. “I think you’ve got a real shot at beating Montreal this time around.”

“We’ll beat them,” Ilya says confidently, like he can will it into being true. For Shane’s sake, at least, Ilya knows they need to knock this one out of the park. It would go a long way toward assuring him that he’s made the right choice by coming to Ottawa this year and that they have a solid chance at going for the Cup. “They’ve been playing like shit recently.”

“The team is full of talented players.” Shane rolls his eyes, like he still feels the need to defend them for some reason. Like he’s offended on their behalf.

“They are talented, yes, but they don’t have a star center. None of their centers are even half as good as you. Not even a quarter, if I am being honest. And I doubt they will make it very far in the playoffs without one.”

“Well, there’s still time for them to make a trade,” Shane sighs, and Ilya can tell he won’t believe it until the Centaurs have officially knocked Montreal out of the running.