Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Additional Tags:

POV Ilya Rozanov, Friends to Lovers, Shane Hollander is Ilya Rozanov's Bisexual Awakening, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Player Shane Hollander, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Internal Conflict, Bisexual Panic, flirty shane is ilya's downfall rip, Explicit Sexual Content, Some angst, Not Beta Read, Jealous Ilya Rozanov, Alternate Universe, raise your hand if you've ever been personally victimized by shane hollander's thighs, Top Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Calls Ilya Rozanov "Baby", Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, BAMF Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-08-14 Completed: 2026-09-27 Words: 59,192 Chapters: 6/6

rum & coke

Summary

Heat spread across Ilya's face. His mouth fell open slightly. He let out a short, stuttered laugh of disbelief. This couldn't- he was straight, he wasn't-

“Finally got you at your own game.” Shane's smirk widened to a smile, his hand clapping down on Ilya's shoulder to squeeze it slightly. For once in his life, Ilya was unable to find his voice.

“Damn.” Shane laughed, jostling him a bit. “If I had known this was all it took to get you to shut the fuck up, I would have started flirting back years ago.”

----

When old college friends Ilya and Shane show up to their mutual best friend's wedding, they are ready to fulfill their duties as bridesmen. Even after years of not seeing each other, they fall right back into their usual banter.

Ilya loves to flirt with Shane. Shane loves to tell him to fuck off. It's a running bit. Nothing more than a joke between two friends; because Shane is gay and Ilya is straight and it doesn't actually mean anything…until Shane finally decides to flirt back, and Ilya's world suddenly tilts on its axis.

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

The summer heat was already oppressive the moment Ilya stepped one foot out of the Uber. It's one thing about America he never got used to in the years he spent here. It got unnaturally hot. By Russian standards, anyway.

Even here along the coast, with the rocky beach line and dark ocean on one side of him, and a thick blanket of pine trees on the other, there was little reprieve from it. He craned his neck up to take in the hotel that towered in front of him; suitcase rolling on top of the cobblestones as he approached.

It was extravagant. But he expected nothing less for the grand wedding weekend of Svetlana Vetrova. It was hard to wrap his mind around that concept, even now with the wedding only a few days away. His mind brought him back to last year, Svetlana's voice dripping with delight over the phone, his own voice tired and groggy as he drawled Sveta, what the fuck is a bridesman?

And now here he was, custom suit in his luggage, ready to stand by his best and oldest friend dutifully, no matter how silly the title bridesman felt.

It seemed like not so long ago that they were small children, chasing each other around until they were breathless. Now they were grown, and Svetlana was getting married, and life was rolling by faster than the waves crashing behind him as the large glass doors to the hotel opened.

It had been 4 years since he'd been in America. 4 years since they all graduated college with the promise of the world stretched out infinitely in front of them. Ilya had always been grateful that he and Svetlana got to experience college together. That he got the chance to escape Russia and get a taste of a life that was unencumbered by home. College was the time of his life. It burned bright, but too quickly.

“Ilyushka!” A voice squealed, and Ilya's grin split his face as his Svetlana came trotting toward him.

“Ah, there she is. The princess herself.” Ilya threw his arms around her and scooped her up off the ground. When he set her back down, she squished his cheeks between her hands, then rested them on his shoulders.

“God, look at you! I skip one year seeing you and you bulk up like a brick wall. Why the fuck do you need shoulders this big, Ilyusha?”

“You really ask me this when you're marrying that?” He gestured across the lobby to where her unnaturally large fiancé was laughing loudly around a group of his teammates. Leave it to Svetlana to marry a fucking Boston player. Her loyalty to her team ran a little too deep, if you asked him.

She beamed at him and patted his cheek. “He's so excited you're here.”

Svetlana had brought Cliff Marlow with her to Russia the previous summer, just after they got engaged, and dragged him around all of Moscow to show him off. Ilya had to begrudgingly admit that he actually really liked the guy. He was funny and sincere and he worshipped the ground Svetlana walked on. He'd decided he could look past the whole himbo thing.

“Come on.” She grabbed Ilya's arm and led him to the group of players. He had been bracing himself for one of Marlow's over enthusiastic bear hugs, but before he could even turn around, Ilya noticed someone else much more interesting to him.

“I know that is not my sexy Shane I see over there.” Ilya grinned wide. Shane was turned the other way, but he would recognize that sleek black hair anywhere.

Shane whipped his head around, eyes crinkling when he gave Ilya a grin of his own.

The very first thing that Ilya ever thought when they met that first day of practice freshman year was Shane Hollander is fucking pretty.

It was maybe a weird thing to think about another guy. But Ilya was straight, not blind.

He had those big doe eyes and those pouty lips and a spray of freckles over his smooth cheeks and unfairly perfect nose. It was never a shock to him that Svetlana had immediately wanted to be his friend. He was very pretty and very good at hockey and she was a predictable woman.

He remembered laughing in her face at the beginning of sophomore year when Shane finally told her he was gay after Svetlana tried to climb him at a party.

“Rozanov.” Shane stepped toward him, and damn. Ilya wasn't the only one who had bulked up. Shane was much more built than he remembered. His face was just as pretty. The man was blessed.

Ilya threw his arms around Shane and pulled him into a tight hug. “Bozhe moy, Hollander. Boston beefcake over here.”

And of course, Shane's cheeks went pink under his freckles. It was one of Ilya's absolute favorite pastimes. “Fuck off.” He laughed, pushing at Ilya's shoulder. 4 years hadn't changed much.

Ilya had a reputation for being a menace. He also had a reputation for being a massive flirt. And during his years of college, nothing was more amusing to him than flirting with Shane Hollander.

It was always all in good fun, and it had started innocently enough. Word of Shane's coming out had spread quickly across the campus, and he was so nervous to face the locker room that he started to have a panic attack as they walked together to practice.

Ilya hated seeing Shane so upset. Sure, they argued a lot and he had annoyingly become Svetlana’s new best friend. But Shane was a sweet kid, and he didn't deserve to be afraid just because of his sexuality.

So Ilya had grabbed him by the shoulders before they got to the locker room, trying his best to quell his panic. “I am personally happy about you being gay. Now all the girls can stop throwing themselves at you and give the rest of us a chance, hm? Only thing that would make me happier is if I was into dudes, too. I'd be all over that, Hollander.” And he winked, and Shane blushed and rolled his eyes. When they both laughed and Shane's tension eased a bit, it felt like a small win.

Things just sort of progressed from there. Ilya could never stop calling him names like Shane Hottlander or sexy Shane. Anytime Shane walked in front of him, Ilya would say something stupid like that ass though, and Shane would turn around with his cheeks glowing red and try to push Ilya to the ground.

Once, at Svetlana's birthday party, he whistled low and asked Shane why he felt it necessary to bring his own cake with him. Shane then tried to shove an entire cupcake directly into Ilya's face.

It was a fun little rapport they had. Never serious. Shane knew Ilya was never doing it to make fun of him; only to rile him up or make him laugh. He was delighted to see how hard Shane was rolling his eyes at him now that Ilya was still running with the bit after they hadn't seen each other for years.

Ilya ruffled Shane's hair, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “My favorite Boston Bear. No offense, Marlow.”

“None taken.” Cliff smiled and clapped Ilya hard on the back. “We love Hollzy, too. Best captain in the league.”

Shane shook his head, blush deepening. He was always so modest.

Ilya had lamented that he couldn't follow the same path Shane did after they graduated. The NHL had always been the dream. But his father was sick, and his brother was a piece of shit, and someone needed to hold their family together.

So Ilya had taken his degree back home and settled on being a personal trainer. He made good money. He enjoyed it, too. Not how he would have enjoyed professional hockey, but, what could he do?

Shane bumped their shoulders together. “You look solid, Rozanov. All those douchey workout videos you post on Instagram are really paying off.”

“Ah, so you do jerk off to them. I knew it.”

“In your fucking dreams, dude.” Shane shoved him off to the side, both of them giggling now.

“Boys never grow up, I swear.” Svetlana appeared at Cliff's side, his arm snaking around her waist.

“It is no one's fault but your own that you surround yourself with only hockey players, Sveta. You built this life brick by brick.” Ilya quipped back. She tilted her had from side to side.

“Eh. True. Now stop speaking Russian, you're being rude.”

Ilya rolled his eyes hard. “You make me come all the way to America to be your bridesman, now you expect me to be speaking in English whole time? You ask too much of me.” He waved a hand at her, tutting.

“My other bridesman is very well behaved and never complains. Maybe you should take his lead.” She stuck out her tongue at him like they'd always done as kids.

“This one here?” Ilya jostled Shane's shoulders. “I do not believe that for one second. He may be sexy Shane, but he is also sassy Shane. Do not think I forgot.”

Shane elbowed him away. “Please stop talking.”

“I am being silenced in every language. Marlow, do you believe this?” Ilya threw his hands up. “They are such bullies, these two.”

Svetlana and Shane had always loved to gang up against him. Ilya would love to say that their closeness never bothered him, but that would most definitely be a lie. It stung sometimes, even still. They both moved to the same city after college; Shane getting signed to the Bears and Svetlana getting hired to work for their management team. They ran in all the same circles and lived only a few blocks apart, while Ilya was on the opposite side of the world. He was happy they had each other, truly. He only wished he hadn't spent these past years watching his friends live their dreams through the screen of his phone.

“Dramatic as always.” Shane muttered.

“Oh I am dramatic? Do not get me started, Hollander. You-”

“Enough.” Svetlana groaned. “5 minutes in and you two are already starting? Honestly.”

“Fine. I will go check into my room and let you two be evil to someone else.” As Ilya went to move toward the concierge desk, Svetlana caught him by the wrist.

“Ah, wait.” She beckoned for Shane. “I need you both for a minute.”

“Gospodi, Sveta. We were fucking around. We will behave, right Hottlander?”

“Don't call me that. God. Grow up, Ilya.” Shane shook his head, but the corners of his lips lifted up when Ilya started to laugh. “It's not funny.” Shane said through a smile, shoving Ilya away.

“Oh my god, can you two relax for a second and listen to me?” Svetlana huffed. “The hotel is overbooked. They need to move some people around to make it work.”

“Maybe you should not have invited 10,000 people to this wedding.” Ilya crossed his arms. Svetlana swatted at him.

“Shut up. I am being serious. They asked if there was any way to…consolidate. And seeing as you both are two of the only people who did not bring a plus one…”

Ilya and Shane glanced sideways at each other.

“I told them my two bridesmen would gladly share a room. So. Shane, you can show Ilya to your room. Try not to kill each other before the wedding.”

She kissed each of them on the cheek before sauntering back off across the lobby.

Shane blanched, and Ilya scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Is she kidding? She has to be fucking kidding.” Shane turned to him.

“Shane. You know her as well as I do. We both know she is not kidding.” Ilya pushed a hand through his hair. There went his prospects of getting laid. He knew Shane would blow the hotel up with his mind if Ilya tried to sneak anyone into their room and disrupt his precious beauty sleep.

“Besides. If I must share, I am glad is with you. At least I will have nice view.” Ilya winked.

“Jesus christ.” Shane grumbled. “Whatever. Just come on.”

Ilya followed him up to the top floor, trying to bite back his smile when he caught a glimpse of Shane's face as he yanked the door open.

“So pissy, Hollander. Is only for a few nights. I know it will be hard for you to ignore the boner you always have for me, but-”

“Please shut up, Ilya. Honestly.” Shane said, exasperated. “I can't believe I forgot how fucking irritating you can be. And you're the one with the fucking boner. I've had boyfriends who compliment my ass less than you do.”

“Hm. Sounds like you have poor taste in men.” Ilya shrugged, dropping his suitcase. “Is probably why you have no plus one, ah?”

“Neither do you, asshole.” Shane crossed his arms.

Ilya shrugged, then stilled for a moment. “There is only one bed here?”

“Uh, yeah.” Shane threw his hands up. “That's why I asked if she was fucking kidding. Like seriously. We're both big guys, does she really expect one of us to shove ourselves onto this tiny couch?”

Ilya's eyes tracked to the tiny couch in question, and yeah. There was no fucking way.

“Is a king bed, Shane. I think we will be fine. Plenty of room to spread out. Unless you would like to cuddle?” He raised his eyebrows, taunting.

Shane gave him a deadpan stare. “Oh, you mean like in junior year when you got wasted and forced yourself into my twin sized bed with me?”

“I was tired!” Ilya protested.

“You snored the whole night and slept half on top of me.”

“Well, like I said. This is king bed. If you do not want to cuddle, your loss.” He shrugged.

“And you will not be bringing any fucking girls in here, either.” Shane crossed his arms again.

“Yes sir.” Ilya gave a mock salute. “But this means you cannot bring any guys either, Hottlander.” He pointed an accusatory finger.

“Obviously.” Shane's cheeks went pink as he averted his gaze. It was way too easy to get him going. Ilya grinned in self-satisfaction.

He leaned down to unzip his suitcase when his eyes caught on Shane, who was gazing out the window toward the view of the ocean.

It struck him again, how pretty Shane was. Beautiful, really. His lips were curved into a soft pout as Ilya stared at his profile. Ilya felt a swallow get stuck in his throat. The way Shane looked was almost…arresting. He wasn't sure why he was getting so caught up on it. His brain made no sense sometimes. It was probably the jet lag.

Shane started to turn, and Ilya quickly looked back down to avoid seeming like a complete weirdo.

“So. How's life?” Shane plopped down next to him on the bed.

“Eh. Is life.” Ilya kept his eyes down on his luggage. “Not exciting like yours.”

Shane tapped their ankles together. “Don't be like that.”

Ilya shrugged. “What? There is not much to say. I have good clients. Business is steady. Things are fine. I do not do much outside of working or working out.”

“That much I can tell. You look great.”

Ilya felt a tiny tingle low in his belly, and knitted his brows together. He really needed a drink. “Thank you.”

“How are things with your father?” Shane's hands fidgeted in his lap. He was aware of why Ilya went back to Russia. Of how sick his father had been.

The tingle in his belly was replaced with a bottomless pit.

“Ah. Not good.” He swiped at the side of his nose. “He does not have much longer.” It was a harsh truth, but one Ilya had learned to look in the face over the past few months.

“Shit.” Shane's hand clamped over Ilya's knee. “I'm so sorry.”

Ilya nodded a bit. “Is okay. Will be…weird, maybe. For him to be gone. But uh, then who knows. Maybe I will finally leave Russia. Come to Boston. I hear all the hot people live in Boston.” He bumped their shoulders together.

Shane laughed, shaking his head. “I don't know if I could handle you being in Boston. You'd never leave me the fuck alone.”

“Ah, obviously not. With a face that pretty?”

“God, you're impossible.” Shane rolled his eyes. “Good thing you didn't bring a date. She'd probably be very confused.”

“Maybe so.” Ilya considered with a grin. “Still will not stop me.”

“Nothing ever has, Rozanov.” He could tell Shane was trying to sound annoyed, but the upturned corners of his mouth betrayed him.

Ilya poked Shane's freckled cheek. “And what about you, Mr. Superstar? I wish it was easier for me to watch your games.”

“Oh yeah? So what, you just have to settle on jerking off to my highlight reels?”

“No. I just follow Shane Hollander hashtag on Instagram and jerk off to thirst trap videos.” Ilya shrugged. “Is why my phone screen is always so sticky. You want to see?”

Shane pushed at his shoulder. “You're so disgusting.”

Ilya shrugged. “You asked.”

“Whatever.” Shane kicked his foot playfully. “Would be cool if you could watch the games more. If you come to Boston we'll get you box seats. Oh!” Shane sat up straighter, clearly excited. “I could get us ice time, too. See if you still got it.”

“Pfft. If. You know I do, Hollander. I will rock your world.”

“I'd like to see you try.” Shane looked at him with that same challenging look he had always gotten talking about hockey.

“Loser gets on their knees?” Ilya grinned. “You'll look so pretty down there for me.”

“Fuck off, Ilya. Seriously.” Once again, Shane tried to look angry, but as soon as Ilya started to laugh, Shane's face broke into a smile. “I hate you.” He said through a laugh, pushing himself off the bed.

Ilya could easily see that Shane hadn't changed a bit. He'd missed Shane more than he realized. Being stuck in this room with him no longer seemed like one of Svetlana’s strange punishments.

The breeze carried the thick humidity across the hotel's outdoor bar, ruffling Ilya's curls that had become decidedly more wild from the salty, wet air. He had only lasted a few minutes before he had to completely unbutton his white linen shirt, letting the air blow across his sweat-dampened skin.

He'd spent the past half hour mingling with Svetlana’s Russian family. Admittedly, he hadn't spoken much English at all in the past 4 years, and his brain had already grown tired from translating. He was glad to get a break. One of Svetlana’s aunts had just finished pinching his cheeks and gushing over his handsome smile when he heard the unmistakable sound of the Boston boys migrating from the inside bar.

He excused himself to get another vodka, head turned to watch as the group of men spilled in loudly. Shane approached him with an empty bottle of Corona in his hand, a few of his teammates trailing behind him.

His cheeks were flushed from the heat; dark hair pushed back and slightly sweaty. He had also changed, and Ilya's eyes charted an involuntary path down his body. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, and his high inseam shorts were straining against his ridiculously thick thighs.

“God damn, Hollander. What the hell are they feeding you in Boston? Those thighs are fucking sexy.” He grinned, looking at Shane over the rim of his glass. Shane's teammates laughed behind him as they crowded the bar.

Shane shook his head. “You really never stop, do you.” He laughed softly, stepping up beside him.

“Why should I?” Ilya turned to face him, side leaned against the bar top.

“Don't you ever worry someone will get the wrong idea?”

“Why would I be worried about this?” Ilya raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink slowly.

“I don't know. Maybe like the time you had a fucking date with you at a party, but when you saw me you said, quote - put your cleavage away, Hollander, I will drool all over you. And then your date got pissed that you never commented on her cleavage and she ditched your ass.”

Ilya considered. He did remember that. The girl was being very dramatic. “Mm. Whatever. I do not really care. I am…what is word? Secure in my sexuality. Anyway, does not matter. Like I tell you before. I am straight, not blind, Hollander. And those thighs are dangerous. You should put them away.”

“Yeah?” Shane grabbed a fresh beer from the bartender, turning to face him now as well. “Why is that?”

“Too distracting, obviously. They are too much. Look too good.” Ilya teased.

A slow, deliberate smirk crossed over Shane's face as he cocked his head a bit, leaning in, his voice lowering slightly. “Bet they'd look even better with you in between ‘em, Rozanov.”

For a moment, his mind went totally blank.

Then, a sudden feeling in Ilya's stomach took him over completely. It flipped and free fell like it was doing an Olympic high dive. His breath got caught somewhere between his throat and his chest.

A vivid image flashed in his mind, absolutely unbidden. Shane's powerful thighs bracketed around his head. Ilya's mouth latched onto the soft skin. Teeth digging into the solid muscle. His head turning to see Shane hot and hard and inches from his lips.

What the actual fuck.

Heat spread across Ilya's face. His mouth fell open slightly. He let out a short, stuttered laugh of disbelief. This couldn't- he was straight, he wasn't-

“Finally got you at your own game.” Shane's smirk widened to a smile, his hand clapping down on Ilya's shoulder to squeeze it slightly. For once in his life, Ilya was unable to find his voice.

“Damn.” Shane laughed, jostling him a bit. “If I had known this was all it took to get you to shut the fuck up, I would have started flirting back years ago.”

He needed to pull himself together. Shane had just surprised him; that was all. He was simply caught off guard. But his eyes started to wander again. Taking in Shane's plush lips. The curve of his jaw. The space between his pecs, visible where his shirt hung open.

Stop. What are you doing?

Maybe vodka in this heat was a bad idea.

Shane brought the beer bottle to his lips, wrapping them around the opening, and the air felt like it had been knocked from Ilya's lungs.

No. Vodka in this heat was a terrible idea. His stomach turned. He was being ridiculous. He had seen Shane fully naked in the team shower plenty of times when they were in college, and he never had…thoughts. Not like this.

He'd always found Shane attractive, because he was attractive. That was just a fact. But it didn't mean anything. It didn't mean he wanted to fuck him. So why the fuck was imagining Shane's hard dick right now?

It was because Shane had put the idea in his head. His brain was just playing out the provided scenario. He did not actually want to bite Shane's thighs or suck his dick, because that would be completely insane.

“I did not know you had it in you, Hollander.” Ilya finally got his words out after tossing back another mouthful of vodka. “That is the kind of flirting you do to get your terrible boyfriends who don't compliment your ass?”

“Uh, not quite. Not really in the business of telling random guys to put their head between my thighs.”

A small wave of dizziness hit him. He needed Shane to stop talking about his fucking thighs. “Ah. I see. Special just for me, then.”

“You had it coming. Now that I see how bad it makes you blush, I'm totally doing it again.”

“I did not-”

“Oh, yes you fucking did.” Shane said over him, a smug smile on his face. “You fucking blushed. I got you, dude. You can dish it but you can't take it.”

“Fuck off, Hollander.” He grumbled, collapsing onto the barstool. “Is hot out here. This is why. Do not flatter yourself.”

“I don't need to flatter myself, you do that for me.” Shane laughed, plopping down into the seat next to him.

Shane suddenly felt very close. Ilya could smell the clean scent of his cologne and see the faint stubble along his jaw. His own skin felt feverishly hot. This was stupid. He probably just needed to fucking get laid.

“Cheers to the hottest bridesmen in the game.” Shane smiled, holding up his bottle. Ilya smiled back, clinking his glass against it before tossing the rest of his vodka back.

Maybe more vodka would make him forget about how strangely he felt.

“You literally aren't funny.” Shane was grumbling as Ilya cackled, head thrown back.

They'd both dragged themselves from the summer heat and back to the room once Svetlana announced that she expected everyone to join them at the club for some sort of weird joint bachelor and bachelorette party, even though they'd apparently had their own real bachelor and bachelorette parties weeks ago. He knew Svetlana likely just wanted an excuse to dance, which he wasn't going to protest.

“But is true, Shane. This is exactly how you look right now.” Ilya was perched on the edge of the bed, trying to shove the picture of an angry looking kitten on his phone screen into Shane's face.

“Well, I don't fucking feel like going out!” Shane threw his hands up.

“Shane.” Ilya groaned. “We are the bridesmen. Sveta wants to go. So we are going. And we are in fucking Maine. Will not be like clubs in Boston. It will probably be almost as boring as you are.”

Shane leaned down to his suitcase as he shook his head. “You underestimate my teammates. They will literally turn anything into a party.”

“God forbid.” Ilya hopped up and went to the full length mirror by the door of the room, undoing another 2 buttons on his silk shirt. Shane gave him a sideways glance.

“I was dead serious about not bringing any girls back here.”

“Ah, yes, Shane. I know English is my second language but I did understand first time you said it.”

“Shut up. I meant because…” He gestured vaguely at Ilya, who turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “Whatever. I guess you'll never stop dressing like a slut.”

Ilya scoffed. “You run a tight program, Hollander. If it will make you feel better, we can pretend you are my date. Then no women will throw themselves at me.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “You're so fucking full of yourself.”

“What, are you jealous? You would also like to be full of me?” Ilya smirked, expecting Shane to blush and sputter and tell him to fuck off.

Instead, Shane turned to look at him fully. “Well, I don't usually fuck on the first date, but I guess we'll see how tonight goes.”

Ilya's stomach fluttered wildly as Shane's eyes locked on his; the light from the setting sun catching on them and turning them to molten gold. He couldn't stop himself. He imagined his hands on Shane's hips, their breathing mingled as they stumbled together into the bed.

What the hell was wrong with him? Shane was now 2 for 2 on completely flustering him by flirting back. But not only that. Ilya was now 2 for 2 on imagining himself in sexual scenarios with his male friend simply because he was play-flirting with him.

Through his fog of confusion, a realization was starting to creep in. Ilya was feeling…curious. Curious about how a man's body would feel beneath his hands. About how a man's mouth would feel against his own. Would it feel different? Would it feel good? Where were these thoughts coming from?

“Got you again.” Shane was smirking. “You're making it too easy. If you're gonna be my date tonight, you need to not act so shocked when I flirt with you.” He was now buttoning up his own shirt, biceps bulging beneath the seams of the sleeves.

Ilya did what he always did with his own discomfort; swallowed it down and pushed his bravado in front of it like a shield. “Very pretty and very famous athlete is flirting with me. You cannot blame me for being nervous, hm?”

Shane sighed through a little smile, hand finding the small of Ilya's back as he walked behind him. “Let's go, Rozanov.”

The contact made heat shoot up Ilya's spine. Before he turned to follow, he caught his own look in his reflection. It seemed to scream back at him, accusatory. You have a crush on Shane Hollander.

No. That wasn't true. It wasn't possible. He shook his head and followed Shane through the door.

The club was, as Ilya expected, a bit lackluster. It was on the smaller side and looked like it hadn't been updated since 2005. But the Vetrova-Marlow wedding crew seemed wholly undeterred.

Ilya slid in next to Svetlana at the bar shortly after they'd arrived, rolling his eyes at the tiara placed on her head. “How is the vodka?”

“Shitty.” She smiled. “Don't you worry. The good stuff will be at the wedding.” She patted his cheek.

Ilya's eyes tracked Shane as he went to a cluster of Boston players huddled around the other end of the bar.

“So.” Svetlana leaned her elbows on the bar, looking up at him. “You and Shane haven't killed each other yet.”

“We don't actually hate each other, Sveta.”

“Oh, I know.” She raised her eyebrows, and something in the tone of her voice made Ilya's eyes narrow.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“I'm not saying it like anything.” She plastered on an innocent smile. “Come dance with me?”

Ilya kept his eyes narrowed as he linked their arms and they threaded their way through the crowd. The club may have been not much to look at, but Ilya had to admit the music was decent.

They danced until Ilya was flushed in his cheeks and chest; the familiar heat of moving bodies leaving a slight dampness to his skin. Svetlana and Marlow were tangled into each other now, and Ilya had been working his way back to the bar when a girl approached him with a cat-like smile. Her minidress left little to the imagination; all glittering legs as she leaned into him, a manicured hand laid against his shoulder.

“Ilya, right?” She leaned in close to project her voice over the thumping music. “I don't know if you remember me. I was Svetlana's roommate sophomore and junior year.”

Ah, yes. Sophie. He'd fucked her once at one of Svetlana’s parties while he was crossfaded. He didn't really remember much about it.

“Yes. Hi. Is good to see you.” He smiled, wondering what exactly her intentions were, though he had a good guess.

She leaned in even closer. “Are you here with someone?”

“There you are, baby.”

Ilya's head snapped up to see Shane with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. Baby? He bit down on his own bottom lip to keep himself from laughing.

“I was looking for you.” Shane slid his arms easily around Ilya's waist from the side. Sophie backed away, hand still raised awkwardly between them, her eyes widened a bit as her lips parted. “Oh. Hey. Sophie, right?” Shane pulled Ilya in closer to him.

The bit would be much funnier if Ilya didn't feel butterflies exploding in his stomach at the feeling of Shane pressed into him. Sophie backed up again.

“Sorry. I'll leave you guys to it. It was good to see you.” She turned and all but ran back into the crowd.

Shane immediately burst out laughing, removing himself from Ilya as he doubled over to lean on the bar. Ilya draped himself over Shane's back, unable to stop himself from giggling as well.

“You will buy me a drink now, baby?” He hugged Shane from behind as Shane tried to wriggle free, breathless with laughter. Ilya's breath hitched a bit at how buzzy it felt to have Shane in his arms, solid and warm. His laughter started to falter.

“What are you two doing?” Svetlana appeared with Marlow in tow, her eyebrow raised.

“Just keeping Ilya from slutting himself out since we have to share a room.” Shane finally wriggled himself out of Ilya's grasp, and he immediately felt disappointment flood his gut. God. What the hell was this?

“Right.” Her eyes bounced between them.

“Designated cockblocker is actually fucking genius, Hollzy.” Cliff smiled, throwing his arm around Shane. Ilya felt himself prickle at the way there was now someone between them, then was immediately annoyed with himself. This needed to stop.

Only, he didn't know how to fucking make it stop, because Shane was laughing again, his smile stretched wide. Then he made a face at Marlow, nose scrunched and freckles bunched together, and Ilya felt his chest seize.

I want to kiss him, he realized. Fuck, I want to kiss him.

He had never before in his life had the desire to kiss another man. But Shane's pink lips, surrounded by a dark dusting of stubble, were making him feel hot under his collar. He watched as Shane's large hands gripped the edge of the bar. They looked strong. He knew they were. He wondered how Shane would use them if they kissed. If he would grip at the back of his neck. Tug on his hair. He felt like he couldn't get enough air in his lungs. He couldn't understand what was happening to him.

Suddenly, one of Shane's strong hands was between Ilya's shoulder blades, and the other was sliding him a drink.

“Rum and coke. I know the vodka here sucks.” He was saying as he leaned in to Ilya's ear. “I remember you always liked these when there was no good vodka.”

Ilya wrapped a hand around the glass, relieved by the coolness against his palm, as his mind flooded with a memory from the beginning of their sophomore year.

Someone had handed Ilya a shot of vodka that tasted like cheap rubbing alcohol, and he was sulking in the kitchen about it. It felt impossible to get good vodka. Beer was even worse. He hated the heavy, sour taste it left in the back of his mouth. He had been pondering what the fuck he was even doing in America when he felt someone elbow him in the side. Shane, cracking open a can of coke and pouring it into a solo cup. “You like coke, right?” He'd asked, and Ilya only nodded, watching curiously as Shane reached across the counter littered with bottles of alcohol and grabbed a handle of Captain Morgan. He gave a generous pour into the cup, then slid it in front of Ilya's hands. “I think you'll like this, then.”

And when Ilya took a sip, he had been pleasantly surprised by the sweetness and hint of spice on his tongue. Shane looked satisfied with himself, a little grin of victory spread across his lips. Ilya had admittedly been very charmed by it. By being seen. By having someone care.

After that, rum and coke was always what he opted for when parties and bars had nothing but shitty, cheap vodka and beer.

He couldn't believe Shane remembered this. The thought made his chest flutter strangely. When was the last time someone cared to remember a little detail about him?

“You remember.” Ilya couldn't fight back the small that broke through. Shane shrugged.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Of course.

“Thank you. You did not actually have to buy me a drink, you know.”

“I'm not a shitty date, Rozanov.” Shane bumped against him playfully, and because Ilya never had any concept of self control or self preservation, he slinked his arm around Shane's waist and held him there so their sides were pressed together.

It wasn't unfamiliar to have his arm around Shane. But it was different now. He felt too aware. His fingers couldn't still themselves, like they needed to grab into Shane and feel his composition. His fingertips dug lightly into the spot below Shane's ribs, feeling the only slight give beneath them as he pressed into thick muscle. Shane's hand moved to Ilya's shoulder, giving it a solid squeeze.

He wanted Shane to touch him more. The thought of it was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. He wondered if Shane would be willing to, if Ilya told Shane that he was…what? Curious? Shane would probably accuse him of just being horny and tell him to fuck off.

It wasn't Shane's problem, anyway. Shane could get any man he wanted; of that much, Ilya was certain. He most definitely did not need to insert himself into Ilya's sudden bi-curious fantasies to get his dick wet, so why would he?

Was that even what this was? Was Ilya curious? Was he just fucking confused?

He knocked back half the rum and coke in one go. Fuck, he forgot how good they were. Or did it taste better because it was from Shane? That was enough thinking for one night. The rum hit him with a sudden little head rush, and his hand dropped lower to wrap itself around Shane's hip. He needed to be careful, but he was never really good at that. Whatever. It wasn't like he was grabbing Shane's ass. Though, it admittedly seemed like it would look very good under Ilya's palm; like the flesh would spill through between his fingers if he squeezed it hard. Like it would bounce if Ilya smacked it.

Wow. Was he fucking getting hard? He was. He was getting hard thinking about playing grab ass with Shane Hollander.

Ilya was aware that the last time he saw Shane, his pre-frontal cortex was not yet fully developed. He thought reaching his mid 20s would unlock things like a sense of responsibility or rationale. Not wanting to explore his male friend's naked body. But Ilya's brain had never been one to fit any mold, and it seemed like Shane Hollander triggered something deep within him. A dormant volcano of sexuality suddenly coming to life.

He tossed back the rest of his drink, earning a surprised laugh from Shane who was sipping his own cocktail mindfully. “Slow down there, big guy.”

“I will show you something big, Hollander.”

“Promise?”

Ilya was sticking his head right into the lion's mouth. But there was something in his primal instincts that made it impossible for him to not be a shameless flirt. Maybe it was safe. Maybe Shane still thought he was kidding.

He was absolutely no longer kidding, and the rum was making him forget that he should be alarmed by how turned on he was right now. “If you are a good boy.” He purred into Shane's ear.

That earned him Shane's pretty blushing that he tried to hide behind the rim of his glass. He wanted to lick him. He wondered what Shane would do. Would he push Ilya off? Would he tilt his head back to let Ilya do it some more?

The air between them felt like the tiniest spark would ignite it into wildfire. Did Shane feel it, too?

Shane's teammates suddenly began to beckon him with their obnoxious hollering, breaking the spell.

“Don't get too drunk.” Shane moved his hand to squeeze at the back of Ilya's neck before he disappeared into the crowd. Ilya leaned forward until his forehead rested on the sticky bar top. He was fucking doomed.

After an undisclosed amount of rum and cokes, Ilya was feeling a little less panicked about his apparent crush.

Which was precisely why he felt giddy instead of insane as he approached Shane where he stood amongst his team, wrapping his arms tightly around him from behind. “Shane Hottlander, my perfect boy. Where have you been?”

“Waiting right here for you, baby.” Shane patted Ilya's forearm where it laid across his middle, and his team erupted in a chorus of scandalized ooooohs. Ilya just barely caught the cheeky wink Shane threw out at them before Ilya pressed his face into the other man's shoulder. Against his better judgement, he bit lightly into the flesh through Shane's shirt.

“Wow, okay.” Shane laughed, shaking his head. “Didn't I tell you not to get drunk?”

“First of all, I am not drunk.” This was true, mostly. He wasn't fully drunk. Maybe tipsy. He knew exactly what he was doing, he just felt too good to care. “Second, you are so strict. I like it. Captain.” He said the last word directly into Shane's ear. Even over the sound pounding all around them, Ilya could swear he heard Shane swallow.

It sobered him a bit; suddenly aware that he was toeing a line that he shouldn't be crossing. He was being reckless. You idiot. The rational side of his brain was chastising him loudly. You want him. You fucking idiot.

He unlatched himself from Shane's back. His mind wouldn't shut up. You want to fuck him. A man. You want to fuck Shane Hollander.

No. How was this happening? Ilya liked women. He loved women. Don't look at Shane. Stop looking, you moron. He looked, and Shane's tongue was wetting his lips, his face glowing under the changing color of the club lights. Devastating. Ilya was giving himself fucking whiplash.

“You're being weird.” Shane squeezed at the back of his neck again. “You good?”

“I'm good.” Ilya forced a smile, but it turned genuine when Shane smiled back. Shane's arm rested around Ilya's shoulders as they eased into conversation with his rowdy team.

With Shane steady at his side, Ilya hardly even noticed as the party started to take a shift around them. One minute he was picking apart Boston's power play, reveling in Shane's anguished expression; the next, two of Svetlana’s bridesmaids were dancing on a table as the bartender was pouring a line of shots that stretched down the length of almost the entire bar.

Svetlana approached them from behind, putting a hand on each of their heads. “Come on, boys. We're doing shots.” She grinned.

Shane glanced around to where Marlow's groomsmen were all already properly wasted. “Wow. Shots seem like a great idea.” He said flatly. Ilya put a hand on his back to guide him forward.

When Ilya reached around Shane to grab a shot off the bar, Svetlana's hand shot out to grab him by the wrist. “Ah, no. Not like that.” She smirked in a way that Ilya knew meant she had some sort of plot brewing, and judging by Shane's face, he noticed it too.

“Sveta.” Shane chided apprehensively. “What are you-”

“If you are single, step forward!” She yelled through cupped hands. “Single people only!”

“Oh god.” Shane put a hand over his face as two of his teammates pushed him forward. Ilya looked up at Svetlana with a quizzical smile, but fell in line next to Shane, who was already blushing.

“If single ladies starts playing, I am leaving.” Ilya said as he leaned over into Shane's ear. Shane tried to stifle a laugh. Svetlana shot them both a glare.

“Okay.” She clapped her hands together, taking stock of the flock of people gathered in front of her. “Who's in the mood for body shots? I know I am.”

Her face was set in a collusive grin as she was met with raucous hooting and cheering. Ilya felt like they were back in college again; looking for any excuse to get half naked and very drunk. He wondered how the hell she convinced the bartender to let them do this - but, she was Svetlana. Svetlana had her ways.

“Who will be first?” She scanned the crowd.

“Jesus christ.” Shane muttered under his breath, shaking his head. Ilya was biting back a smile until Svetlana was pointing directly at him.

“My oldest friend. My bridesman. Biggest slut in Moscow. You are up, my Ilyusha.”

Ilya let out an indignant sound as Shane barked out a laugh, shoving at his shoulder.

“Evil woman.” Ilya shook his head.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Don't pretend like you don't love this shit. Get up here.” She patted the bar top, and Ilya conceded with a smile.

She wasn't wrong. Ilya knew what he looked like and the attention it got him when he took his shirt off. Ilya loved sex and he loved fun; and body shots were both sexy and fun. So who was he to complain?

Ilya made a show of slowly unbuttoning his shirt, earning him an enthusiastic chorus of approval from the crowd when he finally peeled it off and draped it over a bar stool. He caught Shane's eye and winked.

The bar felt particularly disgusting on his bare skin as he lowered himself onto it. Sticky and cool and too sweet smelling. When he was fully reclined, he gave Svetlana a thumbs up.

She made a show of dusting the line of salt down his chest, right between his pecs. With a full shot glass in one hand and a lime wedge in the other, she leaned down close to him.

“You are welcome for this.” She smirked. When Ilya furrowed his brows in confusion, she simply winked and shoved the lime wedge between his teeth.

What the hell was she talking about? He didn't have time to ponder as she leaned back against the bar, projecting her voice again. “Any takers? He is quite sweaty, I must warn you.”

Ilya reached out to swat at her arm, but she shoved him away quickly, shot glass raised up to keep from spilling over. He turned his head to the group of onlookers, watching as Marlow spoke into Shane's ear, nudging his shoulder as they both laughed. His focus shifted when one of Svetlana's bridesmaids started to step forward with a smile.

Then, something happened that Ilya had absolutely not calculated for.

Shane's eyes cut to the girl, to Ilya, back to the girl, then he took a long stride forward to step in front of her. Shane's teammates absolutely erupted. Ilya's mouth went dry beneath the bitter lime wedge.

The corners of Shane's mouth lifted into a tiny smirk as Marlow pushed him forward further. “Fuck yeah, Cap!”

A chant of Cap, Cap, Cap broke out as Shane approached him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. This couldn't be happening. Svetlana was grinning like the cat who got the cream as she ruffled Shane's hair. Ilya felt his chest start to heave softly.

Svetlana looked at Shane, who gave her a small nod as he took the shot glass from her hand. He leaned in close to Ilya's ear, lips barely grazing it. “You good?”

“Of course.” Ilya choked out. He wanted to throw in a quippy flirt, but his brain was completely malfunctioning. This was such a bad idea.

Shane smiled against his ear. “Hold still, Rozanov.”

Ilya liked to think of himself as a very confident person, often to the point of being cocky. His confidence was currently melting away as quickly as the line of salt on his sweat-slicked skin and being rapidly replaced with sheer panic.

Shane was about to fucking lick his body. And Ilya wanted it. Maybe not like this. Not with a captive audience that would very clearly be able to see his reaction. What would his reaction be? What was the appropriate reaction for a straight man being licked by another man?

He could physically feel the way his pulse was jumping as Shane hovered over him. The sound of cheering around them got replaced with his own heartbeat. He closed his eyes and tried to hold his breath to stop his chest from heaving.

That's when he felt the slow, wet drag of Shane's tongue lick a path up upwards on his chest, nestled between both pecs. Shane's tongue was incredibly hot, but it still somehow made him shiver. His back arched softly into it, chest pushing toward Shane's mouth automatically.

It was too much. He could feel the sensation everywhere, like his nerves were misfiring. He swallowed back the low sound that threatened to escape his mouth. Shane's lips grazed the gold cross at the base of his throat before he picked his head up again.

Ilya opened his eyes and lifted his own head slightly to see Shane flushed and biting into his own plump lower lip with concentration as he carefully positioned the shot glass over Ilya's body. He looked- fuck.

Shane poured the shot of tequila directly into Ilya's navel, causing him to gasp softly; his stomach muscles tightening as the liquid started to spill over and into the ridges of his abs.

“Shit.” Ilya laughed in shock at the feeling, but it was quickly replaced by a shaky inhale as he felt the unexpected sensation of Shane's mouth latched onto his flesh.

Shane's lips puckered over his navel first, sucking the tequila out as he also suctioned onto Ilya's flesh. Ilya gasped again, trying desperately not to allow the sound dissolve into a moan as his cock swelled where it was trapped beneath his zipper.

Ilya felt a gentle scraping of teeth against his skin before Shane's mouth moved upward; tongue moving languidly over his abs to lick up the alcohol from where it dripped.

Ilya could feel his muscles trembling. He wondered if Shane's tongue could feel it, too. Shane's lips glided across his stomach lightly, gathering the last few drops. Ilya was seconds away from fucking whimpering; faintly aware that the screaming and chanting around them had only grown.

He was hard. He was so fucking hard right now that it was making him dizzy. Suddenly, Shane's face appeared over him, lips shiny and wet with tequila. When their eyes met, Ilya felt the whole world focus in. You want him you want him you want him.

And then Shane was leaning in, hand on Ilya's jaw, their lips just barely touching as he sucked on the lime held slack in Ilya's mouth. Ilya's eyes fluttered shut as he felt Shane's fingers tighten around his jaw and the tips of their noses brush together. Shane sucked the lime straight from Ilya's mouth and took it between his own teeth, raising his head again to a sea of cheers.

Ilya was panting and flushed all over his entire body. This wasn't right. It couldn't be right. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to get up, but his dick was so hard that people were definitely going to notice. This was very fucking bad.

He reached down to grab his shirt before shuffling himself off the bar top, clutching the shirt in a tight grip that draped over his crotch. Everything was too hot and too loud and he barely even registered his own movements as he weaved his way to the bathroom, buttoning his shirt back up with shaky hands.

When the bathroom door slammed shut behind him, Ilya gripped hard at the edge of the sink, trying to steady himself as his breaths came quick and shallow.

What the fuck is this, Ilya? He forced himself to meet his reflection in the mirror. You got turned on by being touched by another man. You want more. Fucking admit it.

He couldn't admit it. It couldn't be true. Only what if it was true?

What if his juvenile brain had pushed these feelings so far down that he hadn't been able to recognize what they were? What if his subconscious had been trying to protect him from being something that he absolutely cannot be in his home country?

And now, what if it was all coming unraveled? What if his adult brain was recognizing things that had been there all along? What if something deep within his psyche looked at Shane and saw something beautiful and safe and it sprung open the trap door that was currently sending Ilya spiraling into his own revelations? What if?

He tried to swallow back his panic, but all he could taste was rum and coke and lime on his tongue. Like his own body was taunting him; finding every way to scream Shane, Shane, Shane.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't really know for sure unless he-

Shit. No. He couldn't. His stomach twisted. He could still feel Shane's tongue on him. Could still see his face hovering over him before their lips met in that feather light touch. Could still feel the hand clasped around his jaw. You loved it.

“Blyat.” He huffed out, knuckles white where he still gripped the sink. The sound of the door swinging open made him snap upright, head whipping around.

Shane stared back at him, lips parted and cheeks pink. “Are you okay?” His brows bunched together in concern.

Ilya felt his throat click when he tried to swallow. His brain was stalling out as he suddenly couldn't find the words to say in English.

“Shit.” Shane took a step closer. “It was…it was too much, wasn't it? Fuck, Ilya, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn't think-”

Ilya reached a hand out quickly to clasp Shane's shoulder. “Shane. No. You did nothing. Was not…uncomfortable. I am fine. Just…the jet lag, maybe. I am tired.”

Shane looked unconvinced, and Ilya felt like an animal caught in a trap; metal teeth digging into him and holding him in place, bleeding and vulnerable. What could he say? That he, as a straight man, had been so turned on by Shane's mouth touching him that he completely panicked?

No. But he needed to say something. He couldn't bare to see the look on Shane's face, thinking he'd done something wrong.

“Hey. I promise you did not make me uncomfortable. You are my date, yes? Date is allowed to suck tequila off my abs. Is a known fact.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Shane, who rolled his eyes and shoved at Ilya's shoulder. “Well, if you're leaving I am too. It's way too fucking hot in here.”

“Mm. Things did get pretty hot.” Ilya couldn't help but to deflect with his usual flirty banter. Though it wasn't lost on him that he was just basically saying the truth that he was too scared to admit outright.

Shane's eyes caught on his, and for a terrifying second, Ilya thought he saw a flash of recognition. Like Shane was seeing past his deteriorating facade and straight to his core.

But it was over as quickly as it started, and Ilya told himself he was imagining things, because that was much easier than the possibility that Shane could feel Ilya's desire radiating off of him.

Ilya's first thought as he and Shane stepped back into their hotel room was fuck my whole fucking life, because he'd somehow forgotten that they now had to share a fucking bed.

This was a disaster. He really hoped Shane still wore actual pajamas like a dork. If not, maybe he could convince him that the hotel was unclean and they both needed to sleep completely covered head to toe in multiple layers, because he wasn't sure he would survive them sleeping next to each other in their underwear.

Shane let him take the bathroom first, and Ilya was seriously torn between scrubbing his skin pink to remove all traces that the cursed body shot ever happened, or not washing himself at all so he could keep the feeling of Shane's tongue all over him. Before he could even make his choice, he was completely hard again, trying to temper his breathing under the hot spray of the shower.

He brought one hand to his chest as the other wrapped around his cock, eyes closed and head slightly tipped back. He pressed his fingertips between his pecs, dragging them upward slowly in the same path Shane's mouth had taken. A shiver went down his spine as he imagined it all over again. The wet heat of Shane's tongue. The tantalizingly slow drag. He bit back a moan as he stroked himself, head dizzy as his mind replaced his own hand with Shane's.

Ilya let his free hand travel lower and lightly trace over his stomach. The same parts where Shane had sucked on his flesh. Let his lips and tongue and teeth draw across his abdomen. He couldn't believe how close he was already, his hand speeding up as he brought the other to his mouth so he could bite on his fist.

Shane. That was all he could think of. Pretty Shane with his pretty face and his big fucking arms and huge, perfect thighs. It was so different to imagine the big, solid body of a man. But judging how his cock was throbbing in his hand, he liked imagining it. He wouldn't need to be gentle with Shane. They could definitely throw each other around. Wrestle for dominance until one of them could pin the other down. Fuck.

The idea pushed him over the edge. And just as he started to spill over his fist, he heard Shane step into the bathroom, out of view by the sink, but absolutely within earshot. He groaned into his hand, biting down hard, and prayed Shane couldn't hear it over the sound of the shower.

A line had been crossed; terrifying and absolute. When he eventually stepped from the bathroom, towel loosely around his hips and hair dripping, he couldn't bring himself to look at Shane. Not when he'd just come all over himself with vivid images of the other man in his head.

But as Shane moved past him, Ilya couldn't help but notice the way his eyes drifted. Over Ilya's face. Down his torso. They snapped back up abruptly, as if Shane had realized what he was doing.

Oh.

This was…Ilya had to sit on the edge of the bed as a head rush came over him. Luckily, Shane had retreated to the shower, unable to see as Ilya silently screamed in his head. Ilya knew that look. He'd been with enough women by now to recognize. Shane liked what he saw, and Ilya was very fucking overwhelmed.

You are not doing this, Ilya. He tossed his towel into a heap on the floor and slid his boxer briefs on, but his hand stilled before he could grab the t-shirt he was planning on covering himself with.

He thought about that small flash of heat in Shane's eyes. Ilya Rozanov, you are so fucking depraved. He did not put the shirt on. What the fuck was wrong with him? He didn't want the answer to that question. Instead, he peeled the crisp white sheets back and climbed into the bed, letting the blankets cover only his lower half, because the feeling of being desired by Shane Hollander was already embarrassingly addictive.

When Shane reemerged, Ilya was glad his lower half was covered, because he was wholly unprepared for the fucking vision before his eyes. Shane's arms flexed as he toweled off his hair; his bare torso still beaded with water. His chest. His abs. His hips. Ilya only realized he was biting his tongue when he tasted copper in his mouth.

He felt more than saw Shane's eyes give him a quick once over before Shane was slipping into his own boxer briefs, and christ, they were so fucking tight against his thighs and ass-

Ilya turned his back to Shane, unable to keep looking as he felt his cheeks blaze. Then Shane was crawling into the bed next to him, and he felt like this was the plot to some kind of porn, and a king sized bed suddenly felt microscopic. He could feel the bed dip under Shane's weight, hyper aware of his presence.

The insane push and pull happening inside his head was making his brain feel like it was about to explode. He wanted Shane to look at him, but he couldn't actually handle it. He wanted to look at Shane, but he absolutely could not handle that, either. He wanted to touch. Fuck, he wanted to touch so badly. Just to try it. Just to know.

But the thought of actually knowing fucking terrified him.

“Night.” He heard Shane say over his shoulder as he clicked off the bedside lamp. Ilya honestly wasn't sure if he responded or not. He just screwed his eyes shut and prayed for sleep to take him before he did something fucking stupid.

He was warm. Pleasantly warm and contented and so comfortable. This surprised him, as he had spent half the night tossing and turning and tangling the blankets around his legs until Shane kicked him in the shin and told him to cut it out.

But now, in his half-asleep daze, he felt like he couldn't move even if he wanted to. He could smell the seaweed shampoo from the hotel. Could feel heat settled against his front. He shifted himself a bit, and-

Ilya felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He froze; his entire body locking up as he realized what was happening. He was pressed completely against Shane. His chest to Shane's back. His arm loosely over Shane's chest. His nose to the back of Shane's neck.

And worst of all, he realized, just as Shane began to lightly stir - through their underwear, his very hard dick pushed flush against the swell of Shane's ass.

Oh fuck.

Chapter End Notes

to be fair, I think Shane Hollander offering to put his thighs around your head would make ANYONE panic ok ilya we get you

anyways fellas is it awkward if you wake up with your boner touching your friends ass and now you have to go do wedding party shit together or

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Move, Ilya. You need to fucking move.

Only he couldn't fucking move, because he was paralyzed with every possibility of how this could go horribly wrong. What if moving woke Shane up, and he immediately felt Ilya plastered to his back with his fucking dick throbbing against his ass crack? What if he didn't move, and Shane woke up anyway? Why the fuck was he in this position in the first place?

Ilya wasn't much of a cuddler outside of the 10 minutes immediately following sex. Cuddling was a romantic kind of intimacy, and Ilya didn't do romantic.

Then again, Ilya also arrived here yesterday believing he was completely straight, and now he was feeling less and less sure about that. So, he apparently didn't know himself as well as he thought he did.

In any case, he needed to move, but just as the decision became resolute in his mind, Shane shifted again. He stretched his back; arching it as his hips tilted backward, and pushed back against Ilya's crotch.

Multiple things seemed to happen at once. He felt his dick leak into the front of his underwear, he heard the low groan in the back of his own throat, and he catapulted himself in the opposite direction as he slapped a hand over his mouth. Jesus fuck Ilya, what the fuck was that?

He had thrown himself so violently that he almost rolled off the edge of the bed, blankets yanking along with him. His heart was kicking so hard in his chest that it was bordering on painful.

“The fuck?” Shane was saying groggily. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Ilya said, too quickly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Fucking cold in here, you took the blankets.” Shane's words were slurring as he turned to look at Ilya; his hair a mess and his lips parted.

It was cold. The air conditioning seemed to be working a little too well. Maybe that was why he ended up attached to Shane. He was just seeking out a heat source. Yeah fucking right. Ilya moved to toss the blanket back over Shane, but the motion was stopped abruptly when he saw that Shane was now splayed out on his back in the middle of the bed.

Though it wasn't yet dawn, there was just enough glow from the lights outside the hotel spilling through the windows to set the scene. Shane's face was fucking angelic. Ilya was suddenly feeling very envious of Shane's stupid boyfriends who probably got to see him like this all the time; soft and serene with his lashes fanned over the freckles on his cheeks. Fuckers apparently didn't even compliment his ass. They clearly didn't deserve him.

His eyes traveled lower, down the planes of Shane's chest and stomach where his smooth skin laid over solid muscle. And then even lower still, until they saw something that made his mouth drop open slightly.

Ilya was not the only one in this bed who was hard.

As a man himself, he was well aware that this was a completely normal function of the male body. But seeing the outline of Shane, huge and hard and rested against his hip, was making him forget to breathe.

“Ilya.” Shane whined, and it felt so obscene in the moment that he felt his own cheeks blaze hot. Was that what it would sound like if he was-

“The fucking blanket. Please.”

Fuck. Right. “Sorry, sorry.” He muttered, then tossed the blanket over Shane's body quickly. Shane nuzzled his cheek into the pillow with a contented little sigh, and Ilya knew he needed to get the fuck out of this bed. Out of this room. Maybe out of this country. He wasn't really sure what would be a safe enough distance from whatever this was that he was feeling about Shane.

He could see the first hint of the sun starting to peek over the ocean horizon, and decided that made it an appropriate time to get up. He threw on a pair of running shorts and t-shirt and slipped out of the room as quietly as possible.

Even as a personal trainer, Ilya had never been much of a start working out at the ass crack of dawn type of guy. But he was feeling jet lagged and utterly insane, and sometimes physically running from his problems really did seem to work.

The beach at this hour was almost perfect; nothing but the sound of the lapping waves and distant cry of seagulls. There wasn't another soul to be seen. The sunrise was blooming in different shades of orange and gold as it touched the dark water and gave the morning a soft glow. It was still way too hot, but Ilya couldn't make himself care as he left his shoes and socks along the rocky edge of the beach and walked to where the tide made the sand smooth and flat under his feet.

As he started to jog along the shoreline, Ilya tried his best to empty his mind. To feel nothing but the cold water rushing to meet him and the soft rustle of his necklace where it swayed against his skin.

Only he couldn't stop feeling everything else. Not Shane's hand on his jaw or his mouth on his abs. Not the butterflies in his stomach or the heat shooting up his spine when Shane got flirty with him. Certainly not Shane's ass softly pressing against his crotch and leaving him stunned and leaking and questioning everything he'd ever known about himself.

So he ran harder. Pushed himself until he was a sweating, panting mess and could only focus on breathing through the burning in his lungs.

By the time he'd circled back to the front of the hotel, he was sweaty everywhere and his mind was blissfully blank. That was, until he encountered a pack of Boston Bears in the hotel lobby on their way to the gym with their captain leading the way.

Shane's cut off shirt and tiny blue shorts undid every mile he'd just blazed through on the beach.

“There you are.” Shane smiled at him and took a few steps closer. “Come on, Mr. Personal Trainer. We could use someone to check our form.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “You all work out with professional trainers every day. You do not need me.”

“None of them are the Russian Menace himself. Come on. With a chest like that I bet you can out bench all of us.” Shane reached a hand out and clapped Ilya right across one pec, and he really hoped his face didn't show any level of the panic he felt from Shane touching him. He didn't want to seem fucking homophobic or make Shane think he was making Ilya uncomfortable again. Especially when Ilya knew the real truth, which was that he wanted Shane to touch him there. He just wanted it to be when they were alone and he could maybe explain to Shane what was going on inside his head.

But he didn't feel very confident in that happening, because Ilya was a master of avoidance and deflection. So he smiled and threw an arm around Shane's shoulders, pulling him in close. He could at least have this much.

“Fine. But is not for free.” He started to walk with him towards the gym, keeping his arm loosely around Shane.

“Hmm. I'm sure I can find a way to repay you.” Shane said in a low voice, and Ilya was not going to survive this fucking weekend. Not like this.

Certainly not watching Shane crush his fucking workout either, but what was he supposed to do?

He made his rounds across the gym; trying very hard to mingle with the other players to talk hockey and stretches and different lifting forms. But Shane was acting like this was the playground and Ilya was his favorite toy that he did not want to share.

“Roz, get back over here.” Shane was huffing from across the gym. Ilya apologized to Connors for ditching him mid preacher curls and worked his way back over to Shane, who couldn't look more enticing if he fucking tried.

His arm muscles were so worked up that it looked like someone hand carved them from stone. He was panting slightly with his mouth hanging open. He smelled like sweat and Ilya suddenly remembered the existence of pheromones, which could truly be the only explanation for what was happening to him at the moment. He could not stop wondering if Shane's sweat tasted as alluring as it smelled to him.

This was exactly why it was a terrible idea to be near him right now, because he was very horny and very confused, but Shane looked so good that he couldn't stop himself.

“You forget I'm the one paying you? Stay over here with me.” Shane crossed his arms.

“Wow. You are a brat, Hollander.” Ilya sat down on the bench next to Shane, stretching his legs out. “But hot kind. You are looking very fucking good.”

“Yeah?” Shane's smile turned almost shy, and it was somehow even fucking worse than him flirting back.

“Always.” Ilya winked, and Shane blushed, and the feeling in Ilya's chest was so foreign that it distracted him enough to not sense Shane getting ready to deliver the next blow.

But the next thing he knew, Shane was looking him up and down, a little smile on his soft looking mouth. “I have been training pretty hard. Could probably even show you a few new positions.” Then Shane's face broke into a teasing grin, and in that moment, Ilya wanted to do absolutely anything in his power to make Shane feel good. Whatever Shane wanted. The feeling was so overwhelming that it actually frightened him.

He hastily excused himself; claiming he was starving and didn't want to miss breakfast. Instead, he went back to the room showered for way longer than necessary, forehead against the cool tile wall as he tried to piece together what the fuck he was supposed to do. Shane was being playful, just as Ilya always had been with him, but it didn't feel anything like playing anymore. Not to him.

When he finally settled himself down on the bed, still wrapped in his towel, he couldn't stop thinking about Shane's tongue on his abs. His ass pressed against him. How he looked in the gym. He was so hard he wanted to scream.

Only instead of screaming, he reached for his phone with shaking hands. Don't do this, he begged himself. But his hands wouldn't listen. And before he could stop, he was watching a video of two men blowing each other in a locker room, and he was coming so violently that he almost blacked out.

It felt like taking a step toward the edge of a cliff.

By the time Ilya had dressed, narrowly avoided being in the room at the same time as Shane coming back to shower, and shoved his face full of every selection from the breakfast buffet, he was feeling much less on edge.

Getting himself off had also certainly helped, but he was actively trying to pretend that never happened, considering how insanely turned on he'd gotten by watching gay porn for the first time. It was starting to become impossible to deny his own feelings; and yet, he was still trying to convince himself that this was all some kind of fluke.

They still had a few hours before they were due to start the rehearsal dinner, so Ilya made his way back outside to the beach where throngs of wedding guests were all set up under the hotel's pristine white beach umbrellas.

Svetlana was lounging in a chair, soaking up the sun with her head rolled to one side to watch as her fiancé and a group of other men were playing a round of beach volleyball nearby.

“We are too Russian for this weather.” Ilya plopped down on the chair beside her, immediately scooting it under the shade of the umbrella.

She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I know. But I think you may survive.”

He rolled his eyes and batted her hand away. Before he could retort any further, she was rolling to face him, pushing her sunglasses up on her head to look at him.

“You and Shane left in a hurry last night.” Her eyes bounced between his, and he felt like she was trying to see directly into his brain. “Was everything okay?”

“Everything was fine, Sveta. I was just tired from the flight, and you know Shane will look for any excuse to leave a party early.”

“Hmm.” She looked at him for another beat before sliding her sunglasses back down. “Alright then.”

Ilya sighed dramatically. “What do you mean ‘alright then'? Why do you do this?”

“I'm not doing anything, Ilyusha. I just want to make sure you're okay. This weekend is meant to be fun for all of us, yes? You should let yourself enjoy it more. Let go. You will be okay. I promise.”

His brows furrowed deeply. “I do not know what you mean, Sveta. I am enjoying everything. It is beautiful here. You've outdone yourself.”

Svetlana turned to him again to offer him a smile. “I know. I could not do this without you here, Ilyusha.”

“I know.” He echoed before leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.

It wasn't long before Cliff came prancing over, looking at Svetlana like she'd created the entire universe, and Ilya took that as his cue to give up his chair before they started being gross and romantic.

But before he could sneak off, Cliff turned to him. “Oh! Ilya. Your boy is by the pool if you're looking for him.”

“My what?” Ilya whipped around to face him, and caught Svetlana snickering in the corner of his eye.

“Your boy…?” Cliff repeated, looking confused at Ilya's confusion. “Hollander.”

“Why would you call him this?” Ilya narrowed his eyes. Maybe Shane was right. Maybe people were getting the wrong idea. Was it really wrong, though? He'd need to unpack that later.

“Uh, I don't know, man. Sorry. I thought you two were tight?”

“He means like your homeboy, Ilyusha.” Svetlana finally stepped in, gesturing vaguely in the air.

Right. English slang was stupid. “Okay. Yes. Sure. He is my homeboy. Thank you, Cliff. If I need him, I will look there.” He gave Cliff a tight, placating smile.

Cliff beamed at him, looking both satisfied and proud. “You're welcome, Roz.” He clapped Ilya hard on the back.

Ilya couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head slightly as he walked off. America was full of strange people.

Ilya did, in fact, immediately go to find Shane. As much as being around him felt dangerous, it also made him feel happier than he had for a while. Shane was easy to talk to. He was a lot funnier than anyone ever gave him credit for, too. Ilya found him very charming, in a way that made him impossible to resist.

He made his way to the pool, already able to tell where Shane was based on the noise that seemed to follow him in the form of his team.

When he peeked his head around into one of the cabanas, he found Shane and the others huddled around Connors and St.Simon, who were both holding a Nintendo Switch and furiously mashing the buttons.

“No, dude, why would you waste the shell like that? Fucking hold it behind you until you're ready to use it, you moron.” Shane was shaking his head as he let out a little frustrated huff.

“You allow him to captain you even through Mario Kart, hm?” Ilya stepped inside, and Shane's head snapped up.

“Oh, fuck off.” He flipped Ilya off with a smile.

“Do not worry, boys. He bossed me around like this, even when I was his A. Is not personal.” He walked up beside Shane, head cocked to watch the race happening on the screens below him.

“Shut the fuck up, Rozanov.” Shane pushed at him, then put an arm loosely around his shoulders. Ilya took a half step closer until their sides were pressed together. The contact felt good; like he'd been missing Shane's touch. He probably had been. That was maybe the least alarming revelation of the day.

When the guys started to all yell over top of each other about which characters were elite, Shane squeezed at the scruff of Ilya's neck in a way that made him want more rough contact. He wondered if Shane was a hair puller. Maybe a biter. That's enough fucking wondering.

“They're too loud. And it's hot. Wanna get in the pool with me?” Shane's eyes flicked down to Ilya's swim trunks, which he'd changed into last minute before heading out to the beach. Ilya's eyes followed a similar path, and he needed to understand why Shane was so keen on dismantling his whole life by way of tiny shorts.

Shane was pulling his shirt off over his head, and Ilya strategically looked away to start unbuttoning his own. “Sure.”

Seeing Shane with his shirt off yet again felt like a particularly terrible idea, but he chose to ignore that thought as he followed him to an infinity pool that overlooked the beach.

The water lapped softly over the edge as Shane stepped in then dunked his head under. When he reemerged, Ilya stopped in his tracks, standing at the edge of the pool, unable to stop himself from ogling.

Shane's hair was pushed back and away from his face. The water droplets that dripped down his sunkissed skin gleamed in the light of the afternoon sun; highlighting every muscle on their way down. He could only lament that his bottom half was hidden beneath the water, because he was sure the wet swim suit would be clinging to his ass and thighs like it was painted on.

“You getting in?” Shane cocked his head and Ilya suddenly remembered this was all happening in real time. God, he was becoming so far gone that he was starting to really embarrass himself.

He jumped in quickly, swimming beneath the water then popping up next to Shane to shake his hair out all over him like a wet dog.

“You're annoying.” Shane tried to push him, but Ilya caught him by the wrist and tutted.

“Too slow, Captain.” He gave Shane a wolfish grin before releasing him, moving to stand next to him at the edge of the pool. They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing outward toward the ocean, their arms rested over the tiled edge where the water spilled over.

“The boys are mad you left before you could show them your glute routine.” Shane shifted ever so slightly until their forearms were pressed together.

“So show them yours. You know how I feel about your ass, Hollander. Best one around.”

“You know, I never thought to ask you this until now. Do you say that to be funny, or do you really like it that much?” Shane turned to him slightly.

He stilled a bit. Do not fucking panic. “Is a beautiful ass, Shane. Who with eyes does not love it?”

“I feel like you're not really answering the question.”

“I am not saying it just to be funny.” He kept his eyes trained on the water. If only he could say he wasn't doing any of it to be funny anymore.

“You're a weird guy, you know that?” Shane huffed a soft laugh.

“You are just figuring this out now?” Ilya leaned into him playfully.

“Uh, no. Definitely not. I probably figured it out the time you got blackout drunk and banged on the door of my dorm room at 2 in the morning just to say Shane, your mouth looks so fuckable. And this was before I even came out, so.”

Ilya let out a sound of disbelief. “Hollander. What the fuck are you talking about? This never happened.”

“Oh, but it did. Trust me. It freaked me the fuck out because I thought you somehow figured out I was gay and you were messing with me. But then I went on to realize that you're just really fucking weird.”

Ilya didn't even know what to say. Apparently his 19 year old blackout drunk self was really fucking on to something. Stop panicking. “Well. Nice ass and nice mouth. I never lie.” He hoped his attempt at sounding nonchalant was working.

“My biggest fan.” Shane rolled his eyes, and before Ilya could stop himself, his arm dipped down to the water to wind itself around Shane's waist. His self indulgence was going to get him in serious trouble eventually, but that was a problem for future Ilya.

“Yes. I still am very shocked you have no date, Hottlander. Is criminal. These men need to get their act together.”

Shane leaned further into him; the bare skin of their sides pressed together now. He felt Shane's foot come to hook around his ankle, and his breathing faltered slightly. It was sweet and oddly intimate and his brain had gone fuzzy around the edges. What is this? What are we doing?

“Funny. I feel the same about you.”

He swallowed, his pulse jumping. “And why is that?”

“Because you're you.” Shane said simply.

As it had many times already this weekend, Ilya's mind sent him backward. Back to the end of junior year, when the path ahead of him had started to become very clear. His father wasn't well, and his brother was fucking incapable, and family was family. He needed to step up and do his duty as a son, no matter the cost. Though the cost was his entire future.

He had been sulking over it when Shane found him in the locker room after practice. He usually didn't tell these things to anyone but Svetlana, but there had been so much concern in those big brown eyes that Ilya caved. He told Shane everything. How sick his father was. How he needed to go home. How he would have to find something else to do as a career.

Shane had placed his hand on Ilya's knee, his face so open and earnest, and said, “Whatever you end up doing, you'll be the best at it.” And when Ilya questioned how Shane could possibly know such a thing, he simply smiled and said “Because you're you.”

Those words were starting to bear more weight than he'd ever realized.

Ilya's thumb brushed gently against Shane's wet skin where it rested near his hip. Up and down, only a few times. Just to know what it would feel like.

When Shane's hand came to the back of his head in response, fingers twisting lightly around his wet curls, he found out.

It felt like his whole world was being knocked down to its foundation. The gentle touches made his skin prickle all over. They made his chest ache with want.

He was starting to fear that this was not just confusion, or even simple sexual attraction. No. It felt like something far more impossible than that.

“I'm glad you're here.” Shane said quietly, his foot rubbing lightly where it rested against Ilya's ankle.

Ilya let his thumb brush him again. His mouth went dry before he spoke. “Me too.”

Practicing walking down an imaginary aisle seemed like a particularly pointless task, but Ilya kept reminding himself that he was here to do his duty as a bridesman. If that meant doing a trial run of walking next to someone in a straight line, so be it. Though he was admittedly quite distracted by his fellow bridesman.

Shane was wearing charcoal colored slacks that were tailored far too well, and it felt like a personal attack on his integrity. He was huddled up with Svetlana and Cliff in the corner of the hotel's rooftop bar, his head tipped back as he laughed. It put all the lines of his throat on display. Ilya had no appropriate thoughts about that.

Ilya nodded his thanks to the waiter who offered him some sort of fancy cocktail off a tray as he made his way over to them. Svetlana smiled brightly, and Cliff threw an arm around him.

“There he is. We were just talking about you. I told Sveta it's just like her to have the two prettiest dudes I've ever seen be her best friends.” Cliff laughed.

Ilya cocked his head with a smirk. “Mm, yes. She is greedy like this. But prettiest boy alive crown definitely belongs only to Shane.”

“Oh, don't start.” Shane rolled his eyes.

“Start…?”

“Start your bullshit. You know you missed your calling as a model. Your face is perfect.” Shane gestured at his face, causing Ilya's grin to widen. He was such a brat sometimes.

“Your face is perfect. Mine, eh. Is very good, but maybe not perfect.” Ilya sipped his cocktail, looking at Shane over the rim.

Shane shrugged. “I mean. I'd sit on it.”

The menagerie of reactions all fired off at once. Cliff threw his head back so violently to laugh that he looked like he might break it. Svetlana’s mouth dropped open, then twisted into a wide open smile. Ilya choked so hard on his drink that some of it spilled out of his mouth.

“Shane!” Ilya laughed out in utter shock.

“What?” Shane threw his hands up. “Don't act like you haven't said shit to me that's way more unhinged than that.”

As the initial shock dissipated and he finally stopped coughing on the sip that nearly choked him out, the unwelcome thoughts started to flare up again. He, under no circumstances, could allow himself to imagine eating Shane's ass right now. Only he absolutely was, and he sort of felt like he was going to die.

He had never been so frustrated with himself in his entire life. He didn't know how to face himself. How to stop trying to silence the part of his brain that was yelling you want to fuck Shane Hollander until you're both crying, and then probably do something pathetic like hold his hand.

The conversation had luckily moved on around him, because he didn't have any kind of retort for Shane saying that he would sit on his fucking face. He wasn't just beating Ilya at his own game; he was rewriting all the rules. It was so unexpected, and yet Ilya couldn't help but be weirdly proud of him for it.

“Well, I guess I'm being too fucking much then.” Shane was saying as Svetlana rolled her eyes at him.

“No.” Ilya cut in, shaking his head. “Never too much. You are more confident now. Is good to see.” He patted Shane on the cheek. “Turning into a menace just like me.”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far.” Shane pushed his arm away playfully.

“No? I thought you wanted to go all the way, Hollander.” Ilya purred out, the cocktail starting to give him back his waning bravado.

“You know, I would tell you two to get a room, but you're already sharing one. So please save this sexual tension for later when you can actually fuck about it.” She patted Ilya's shoulder as she walked off, and Ilya had to look away from Shane, because fuck. Was she being serious?

He swallowed down the rest of his drink and went to grab another, because the bravado one cocktail provided was suddenly not enough. He felt like the wall he was actively trying to put up around this feeling was crumbling faster than he could build it, and being sober wasn't going to help him deal with the implications of that. Very healthy coping mechanism, Ilya.

Luckily, the rehearsal itself went off without incident. Ilya got to walk down the aisle beside Cliff's brother, since they were the best man and…bridesman of honor? Was that a thing? If it wasn't, Svetlana had made it one, which meant Ilya got to stand closest to her.

When he declared himself Svetlana's favorite and teasingly stuck his tongue out at Shane over it, Shane only rolled his eyes and brushed a rogue curl away from Ilya's forehead as he mumbled something about him being an asshole. If Shane saw him blush at the action, he kindly made no mention of it.

As the rehearsal slowly trickled into the dinner portion of the rehearsal dinner, Ilya found himself seated at a table with Svetlana’s Russian cousins. He had been so lulled into relaxation from conversing in his own language that he didn't even noticed Shane come up behind him until a hand was on his shoulder.

“Can I steal you?”

“Steal me? Are we finally eloping?” Ilya turned to look up at him.

“Shut up. My team is kind of weirdly obsessed with you now and they won't stop asking me to bring you to our table.”

“They are obsessed with me, or you are?” Ilya raised an eyebrow as he stood.

“Fuck off. You know you want to sit next to me.” Shane put his hand on the small of Ilya's back as they walked toward the table. He was very much right, of course. Ilya had apparently turned into a masochist, because he could not resist being near Shane, no matter how torturous it was to his understanding of himself and his own sexuality.

“There he is! The Winter Soldier!” Hammersmith barked out.

“Jesus christ. I told you to stop calling him that.” Shane huffed as he sat down.

“Ah, no.” Ilya sat heavily into the seat next to him. “Winter Soldier is cool and hot and mysterious. Obviously is just like me. Everyone may call me this.”

“You talk too much to be mysterious.”

Ilya waved a hand. “Unimportant details, Shane.”

“Exactly.” St.Simon cut in. “Anyway, Hollzy told us you were like, wicked good at hockey. We pulled up your college stats. You're insane, brother. Really sucks you couldn't go pro.”

Ilya stilled slightly at that. It was never a fun topic to broach. But Shane's hand immediately found Ilya's knee under the table, squeezing it lightly. “Guys-”

Shane started, but Ilya placed his hand on top of Shane's and offered a tight smile. “Is fine. I agree. Shane does not, but this is because he is scared to play against me.”

“Oh, please.” Shane scoffed. Ilya moved his hand to squeeze Shane's thigh, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Rozanov. You gotta come visit us in Boston, man. We'd love to get you out on the ice. Let you and Hollzy go 1v1.” Connors leaned over the table excitedly.

Ilya shrugged. “If your Captain will have me.”

He felt Shane squeeze his knee again, and it was only then that he realized neither of them had pulled their hands away. Shane's rested over his knee, fingers tapping ever so slightly. Ilya's was still sat across Shane's thigh.

The thought struck him again. What is this? Whatever it was that they were doing, Ilya was making no move to stop it. You keep digging yourself deeper and deeper, Ilya. You need to put down the fucking shovel.

As much as he hated to admit it, Ilya had sort of missed being around hockey players. It had been so long since he'd been on a team that he had almost forgotten how enjoyable it was. As the Boston boys laughed around him, he started to get wistful; his brain filling up with unhelpful thoughts of what if.

Ilya noticed the party starting to kick up around them as everyone was getting increasingly more intoxicated, which reminded him to pick his head up and see what the hell was taking Shane so long with their drinks.

He scanned the room, his eyes first catching on Svetlana and Cliff wrapped up in each other at their table. They both looked completely smitten. He had probably never seen Svetlana so happy in his life. Her smile was so bright and so real and she was clinging to Cliff's side like he was her tether to the earth. Cliff was looking at her like nothing else in the world even existed.

A pang went off in his chest, sharp and uncomfortable. Had he himself ever been even nearly that happy? Would he ever be? It was selfish to look at his best friend's joy and feel these things, he knew. But he couldn't stop it. Just like he couldn't stop whatever the fuck was going on in his mind over Shane.

Shane. Where is Shane? He turned toward the bar now, and he could feel his own face fall in real time.

There he was, leaned in on the bar top, dangerously close to the bartender who was mirroring his position from the opposite side. The man was good looking. Muscular, which was very evident by his tight fitting shirt. He was flirting with Shane so aggressively that Ilya could see it from all the way across the room.

And Shane was smiling. Smiling and laughing and fuck, was he fucking blushing? Ilya didn't even realize he'd stood until he was halfway closer, staring at the pink on Shane's cheeks and the shy smile on his mouth as the two men seemed to only lean closer together.

It felt like he had been hit in the gut with a fucking battering ram.

Maybe that man would take Shane home. Maybe he would get to see and taste the parts of Shane that Ilya would only ever be able to fantasize about. Maybe Ilya was the biggest idiot in the world for ever letting himself fantasize about that at all.

Reality crashed down around him so violently that he had to grip onto an empty barstool. Of course he would never be happy. He couldn't even be fucking honest with himself. He didn't even know himself at all.

What the hell was he even doing letting himself get so worked up over Shane? What did he think was going to come out of it? You are such a fucking idiot.

The jealousy that surged through him now was nothing like what he felt watching Svetlana. This was nauseating and horrible and unlike anything he'd ever felt in his 26 years of living.

The bartender laid his hand on Shane's forearm, and Ilya had to physically turn away. He needed to get out. He needed-

He flagged down one of the other bartenders and managed to get the words out despite his throat feeling like it was on fire. “Rum and coke.”

The second the glass was in his hand, he all but ran out of the bar, not sparing a single look back, barely even taking a breath until he found himself outside near the rocky line that bordered the beach, overlooking the vast void where the night sky met the ocean.

A shaking hand brought the drink to his lips. The rum burned on its way down. In his mind, he could see Shane's little grin. I think you'll like this, then. Ilya had liked it. He liked feeling seen. Shane made him feel seen.

It was only when he tried to choke down another sip that he realized the tears had started. He would never be happy like Svetlana. He would probably never be happy at all. Ilya had never even been in a fucking relationship before.

He wasn't even sure what exactly he had deluded himself into thinking was going to happen between him and Shane. It just felt so good to be around him. To have his attention. Jesus christ, Ilya, you are pathetic.

There was no denying it now. He wanted Shane in ways that he would likely never admit to anyone. He wanted to touch him and taste him and make him smile. Ilya tossed his head back as he finished the glass and sat down on the rocks, tears stinging his eyes and wetting his cheeks.

Maybe alone was what you were destined to be when you weren't brave enough to be honest, even just with yourself.

“Found you.”

A voice startled Ilya to attention, his hands instinctively coming up to wipe the tears from his face as he turned his head away slightly.

“Ilya…” Shane appeared in front of him, and even in the darkness, Ilya could see the way his face was twisted with concern. “Hey, what's wrong?” His hand came down on Ilya's shoulder, and he tried to turn his face away again, sniffling back his tears quickly.

“Sorry.” He choked out, but Shane was kneeling in front of him now, shaking his head.

“No. Don't be sorry. What's going on?” His voice was gentle, but not as gentle as the hand that came to wipe a stray tear from Ilya's cheek. “Talk to me.”

Ilya took a deep breath. “I do not even know, honestly. I am just…fuck.” He dropped his face into his hands.

Shane moved to sit next to him, a hand on his back, rubbing up and down slowly. Neither of them spoke for a while; the waves crashing in the distance a white noise in the background.

Ilya eventually lifted his head, eyes finding Shane's and seeing that same quiet concern they wore junior year when Ilya opened up to him about his father. There was something so captivating about Shane's kindness. He felt like he was adrift at sea, and Shane was the beacon guiding him to shore.

“Sometimes…” He started, hands clasped in front of him. “Sometimes it feels like I will never be happy.”

“Ilya.” Shane sighed softly, his hand moving to the back of Ilya's head where it scratched gently through his curls. “Don't say that.”

He closed his eyes against the feeling of Shane's fingers, his breathing starting to slow.

“Why do you think that?” Shane's voice was almost a whisper. It made goosebumps cover Ilya's skin.

“I don't know.” His own voice came out just as quietly. “Other people just seem so happy. Feels like…maybe is not meant for me.”

Shane moved slightly closer, his fingers scratching deeper, making Ilya's lips part at the sensation. “Of course it is. I think you just don't let yourself have it.”

Ilya huffed a quiet laugh. “You sound like Sveta.”

“Well, she's the smartest person I know.”

Ilya hummed in response. He couldn't argue with that.

“I know what it's like. To not let yourself have that.” Shane said as Ilya couldn't help but lean his head back into the touch.

Ilya turned his head slightly, opening his eyes to meet Shane's again. “But you are now, yes? Happy?”

Shane nodded. “I am.”

“What changed?”

Shane offered him a small smile. “I stopped giving a fuck what people had to say about me. Or what they thought.”

“About you being gay?” He swallowed, eyes still stuck on Shane's.

“Yeah. Mostly that. Being not straight and not white in the NHL isn't always the most welcoming environment.”

“People give you shit?” Ilya furrowed his brows.

Shane's smile turned sad. “Sometimes, yes.”

Ilya shook his head. “Give me names. I will kill them.”

“Yeah?” Shane gave his hair a gentle tug, and Ilya had to grip hard onto the rock to keep his soul attached to his body.

“Yes. All of them.”

“I know you would.” Shane laughed softly. “But don't worry. I've broken more than one jaw and I'll do it as many times as I have to.”

“Fuck.” Ilya whined. “Do not turn me on right now, Shane.”

“Shut up.” Shane's smiled widened as he tugged on his hair again.

“Shane. I said do not turn me on. Why would you pull my hair?”

“You're annoying.”

“Yes.” He closed his eyes again, sighing softly when Shane's fingers continued scratching against his scalp. “You are not only one though, yes? There are other gay players?”

“Mhmm. Scott Hunter, I'm sure you knew that already. But also another player more recently. Troy Barrett. I actually had dinner with him and his boyfriend last time we played Ottawa. It was nice.”

Ilya felt his heart squeeze. He was happy for Shane. He absolutely hated that the world was full of assholes that wanted to tear him down, but he was happy that Shane was showing them he wasn't going to be stopped. He was happy he had other players he could find community with. He was happy that Shane was happy.

“You are good person, Shane.” He found himself saying quietly.

“So are you.”

Ilya made a sound of disagreement, and Shane put a hand on his jaw and forced their eyes to meet again. “You are, Ilya. And you deserve to be happy. You will be. I believe that.”

He couldn't stop himself from turning and pressing his face into the space between Shane's neck and shoulder, and the relief that washed over him when Shane's arms circled around him nearly took his breath. He's perfect. What a terrifying thought.

When they both eventually pulled back, Shane must have decided he hadn't altered Ilya's brain chemistry enough yet, because he pressed a soft kiss to Ilya's face that landed dangerously close to the corner of his mouth. His heart and stomach fluttered so intensely that he felt like he might actually fly away.

Was this what it was like? To feel something for someone? He came to this wedding as a straight man who was convinced he only did casual, and now it certainly fucking seemed like he was catching feelings for Shane Hollander, and he honestly didn't know which way was up anymore.

“Come back with me?” Shane stood and held out his hand, and who in their right mind would ever deny this man of a single thing?

He let Shane pull him to his feet, and when Shane didn't let go of his hand as they started to walk, he felt warmth spread through him like wildfire.

It didn't take long for Ilya to realize that they weren't going back to the rooftop. Still clasping his hand, Shane led him around the outside of the hotel as the sounds of shouting and laughing and splashing started to grow louder.

“Ah. We are not going back to your new bartender boyfriend?” He knew he sounded petulant, but the image was still burned unpleasantly into his retinas.

Shane rolled his eyes. “Somehow I knew you were gonna sense that someone else was flirting with me. Are you the only one allowed to?”

Ilya shrugged and stayed quiet. He didn't have a good answer to that.

“Well, as my date, you should have come and told him to back off. But don't worry. I told him for you.”

Ilya's brows scrunched. “Why?”

Shane gave him a playful smile as he squeezed his hand. “Don't ask stupid questions, Rozanov. Come on.”

Well. Whatever that means. He let Shane lead him to the pool area, where he now realized the Boston boys had completely taken over. Some of them had stripped down to their underwear, others were in the pool fully clothed, and all of them seemed properly drunk. When they caught site of Shane and Ilya, they all absolutely exploded.

“Okay, Jesus christ. Relax.” Shane laughed, sitting down on one of the loungers where he started to undress.

Fuck. Not again. How did he keep ending up in these scenarios? He hoped to any God that would listen that Shane wasn't wearing white underwear, because he truly didn't need the equivalent of a below the belt wet t-shirt contest happening with Shane's entire team around to see exactly what that would do to him.

Ilya had strategically looked away, but next thing he knew, Shane was patting his ass encouragingly. “Come on. You're getting in, too.”

He turned to see Shane in all his glory, stripped down to those tight fucking boxer briefs that were going to give him a goddamn aneurysm. His only saving grace was that they were navy blue, though that did nothing to stop the way they clung to him.

Ilya had to bite the inside of his cheek to pull himself together as he started to undress. He needed to at least control himself until he got into the water where it would hopefully be difficult to spot if he got hard. He was such a fucking mess tonight.

When he finally stripped down to his own boxer briefs, he was met with wolf whistles from Shane's drunken team who had seemingly already splashed half the water out of the pool. Ilya flipped them off with a smirk before he lowered himself down into the water.

“Chicken!” Hammersmith was yelling as he steadied himself against Connors. “We're playing fucking chicken.”

“And you'll fucking lose.” Shane huffed. There was no form of competition that Shane Hollander would not be determined to win, Ilya was convinced.

“Fucking bring it, Cap! Vicky, you're with me.” He yanked on St.Simon's arm. “Cap, who you got?”

“Rozanov's the only one with shoulders big enough to support Hollzy's thighs.” Connors laughed.

“Oh, fuck. You're probably right.” Hammersmith seemed genuinely dumbstruck by this.

“Fine. You're with me, Roz.” Shane said from behind him, arm snaking around beneath the water to momentarily rest a hand against Ilya's stomach. “Squat down.” Shane's voice was close to his ear, breath warm against him.

He knew what was about to happen. Ilya tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. This is a bad fucking idea. He squatted down anyway, and next thing he knew, Shane had pushed himself up onto Ilya's shoulders, his thighs bracketed around Ilya's head.

This was turning into the body shot all over again. His fantasy about Shane's thighs had been the first key to unlock this whole confusing journey he'd been on so far, and now his head was actually fucking between them, the muscles squeezing taut for balance when Ilya stood up straight.

Thankfully, everyone else seemed way too drunk to notice Ilya losing the grip on his sanity. He barely even registered Shane and Hammersmith dueling above him, their hands clasped together as they fought to knock the other off balance.

Shane's thighs were so fucking strong where they beared down around him. You want them wrapped around your fucking throat. Heat bloomed over his face. But before he could try to convince himself those thoughts weren't real, Hammersmith was plummeting into the pool with a dramatic splash, and Shane had jumped down to excitedly plaster himself to Ilya's front.

His legs wrapped around Ilya's waist, hands on either side of his face as he looked at Ilya with an elated smile. Their faces were too close. Ilya's heart was beating too hard. He could see all of Shane's freckles and the warm amber brown of his eyes. You need to get out of here before you do something that you can't fucking undo.

A breath of relief lunged out of him when Shane finally detached himself. His head was fucking spinning. “I think I am going to go up.” He heard himself saying, and he had no idea if Shane even heard him or not. He just went on autopilot; pulling himself out of the pool, wrapping in a towel, gathering his clothes.

The whole day was coming back to him in flashes. Waking up pressed against Shane, hard and leaking and confused. The dizzying feeling of want he felt in the gym. Touching himself as he watched two men ravage each other on his phone screen. His arm around Shane's waist. Shane's foot around his ankle. Their hands beneath the table. Becoming so overwhelmed by his own loneliness and alarming jealousy that he hid himself to cry in the dark. Shane's comfort. The hand in his hair. The lips on his cheek. Their faces so close that he almost brought himself to do something he never would have dreamed of doing 2 days ago.

By the time he was stepping out of the shower and collapsing into the bed, he could feel the walls of panic closing in on him yet again. You've done it now, Ilya. You're letting yourself want something you know you can never have.

He stared at the ceiling and stupidly tried to will himself to forget this day ever happened.

At the sound of the door unlocking, Ilya immediately turned his head, closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep. He was very far from actually being able to sleep, as his heart had not stopped pounding and his head had not stopped spinning and his brain had not stopped spiraling. But he couldn't bring himself to look at Shane right now. Looking at him made everything feel too real, and he couldn't let it be real. Coward.

He heard Shane move through the room. Heard the shower run. Heard him rustle around his suitcase. Felt the bed dip as Shane crawled in next to him.

Despite the arctic air of the hotel room, Ilya had been laying on top of the blankets in only his underwear, his entire body flushed hot as his mind continued to race. He swallowed hard and tried to even out his breathing. Don't think about how close he is. Don't think about what he may or may not be wearing. Just fucking breathe.

“Ilya.” Shane's voice came softly as he felt the other man shift closer to him. “Ilya, I know you aren't really sleeping.”

Well, fuck.

He heaved a sigh and ran a hand over his face, turning to lie on his back as he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He still was not going to look at Shane.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About whatever.”

“Yes.” No. Not about this. He hoped Shane couldn't somehow hear the wild beat of his heart.

Shane moved even closer still, and Ilya's jaw clenched hard. “You've just been acting really…I don't know. Off. Like something's bothering you.”

“I am fine, Shane. I am just…” Confused? Horny? Tearing myself apart on the inside? “I don't know. I don't know.” He could hear the frustration in his own voice.

“Can you look at me? Please.”

He braced himself before he turned his head to the side, but it did nothing to lessen the impact. Shane's smooth, hard body was on full display; his boxer briefs sitting low on his hips. In the moonlight from the open windows, he looked otherworldly. Want was blurring into need. What am I? What is this?

Suddenly, he felt Shane's fingertips touch lightly to the pulse point in his neck. His breath caught; their eyes meeting as Shane's fingers pressed into the rapid beating of his pulse. Shane's eyes seemed to pin him down. It felt like he was shining a spotlight directly onto Ilya's desires.

“Ilya.” Shane started gently, and he was moving closer still, and Ilya's breathing was turning more ragged and uneven. “It's okay to feel curious. You know that, right?”

Fuck. Oh, fuck. Ilya's mouth dropped open slightly, and now he could tell his breathing had turned audible as it came in shaky little gasps. “I-”

He didn't know what he was trying to say. Words had failed him completely.

Shane's hand slid slowly down the side of his neck until it came to rest on his bare chest, cupped over his pec, right on top of his beating heart.

“Are you? Curious?” Shane's face was only inches from his now. The heat between their bodies was building rapidly, as was the swell between Ilya's legs.

All he could bring himself to do was nod as his hands flexed in place, violently fighting the urge to reach out and touch.

Shane slowly moved to bring his lips just below Ilya's ear, his hand still cupped against his chest. The feeling of Shane's breath against his skin made his eyes flutter shut as he started to almost pant.

“Do I make you curious?” He murmured into Ilya's skin.

Ilya felt a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Shane pulled back to look him in the eyes again. Oh, I'm fucked.

“Yes.” He whispered, his voice raw with want and panic.

Shane's hand started to rub at his chest softly. “That's okay, too.” He whispered back.

He had never been this worked up in his entire fucking life. Shane's eyes lowered to Ilya's mouth, then dragged back up slowly to meet his again.

“Shane…” Ilya whispered, because he didn't know what else to say.

Shane only kept his gaze on him, tongue coming out slowly to wet his own lips. “It's okay.”

Ilya huffed out a breath before he pushed himself forward to close the distance.

Their lips slotted together, and fire flooded Ilya's veins. Shane's lips were warm and soft and plush where they pressed against his own. He pulled back, their lips still almost touching as their breaths mingled between them.

Holy shit. This was-

Ilya leaned back in, more insistently this time, and he felt Shane's jaw drop open slightly. He licked into the heat of Shane's mouth, and when he felt Shane's tongue slide against his own, a deep groan of satisfaction escaped his throat.

The kiss rapidly turned deep and filthy, and Ilya felt like his body might burn through the sheets. Shane's jaw was so strong the way it worked against his own. He could feel the way their stubble scratched harshly. When he reached out to grab onto the side of Shane's arm, he felt rippling muscle beneath his palm. Every sensation was new and electric and he couldn't stop the way he kept moaning roughly into Shane's mouth.

They eventually pulled apart again; their lips both swollen and slick with spit, and Ilya was so fucking hard that he could feel himself throbbing.

Shane's hand snaked between their bodies slowly until it came to cup him through his underwear, making Ilya gasp.

“Mm.” Shane hummed, smile teasing against Ilya's lips. “Fuck, Rozanov. Guess you liked it, huh?”

Yeah. Ilya was completely fucked.

Chapter End Notes

when you're hot and bothered but also in your feelings

sorry for all the emotions pls don't hurt me 😭🙏

and don't worry, Shane is absolutely about to rock Ilya's world upside down and into another dimension 🙂‍↕️

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

Completely fucked may actually not be enough to describe the severity of the situation Ilya was in.

The whine that escaped his mouth when Shane moved his hand away was a sound that he wasn't sure he'd ever made in his entire life. When did he become so fucking needy?

He had been about to reach out for Shane's arm, not at all feeling above begging at this point, when yet another new sensation made his brain take a stutter step.

Shane had pushed his hips forward and hitched one leg slightly over Ilya's to push their crotches flush together. The feeling of Shane's hardness against his own made his jaw drop open. And when Shane started to ever so slightly roll his hips, another soft whine was pulled from him, and he knew he absolutely stood no chance.

“Shane, you are going to fucking kill me.” Ilya murmured in Russian, but it dissolved into a moan as both their hips rolled together in a slow grind. The friction was electric. He reached a hand down to grab a handful of Shane's ass, which earned him a soft moan that made his heart skip.

He barely even registered Shane pushing at his chest until he heard him speaking softly. “On your back.” He punctuated his words by tugging Ilya's bottom lip between his teeth.

Fuck. Fuck, this is happening.

As he rolled onto his back, he realized he was so worked up that his whole body was literally shivering in anticipation, which had never, ever happened to him during sex. Not even the first time he'd ever done it and had no fucking clue what he was doing. He had at least been able to somewhat feign his confidence during that encounter. But this? This was a completely different type of first, and his brain was actively melting.

“You okay?” Shane moved to straddle him, a hand pressed to Ilya's cheek.

“Da. I mean yes. Fuck.” Ilya choked out, staring up at Shane in awe where he was sitting on his knees above him.

“Want to make you feel so good.” Shane's hand ran down the side of his neck. “Can I?”

Ilya nodded quickly. He would let Shane do anything to him. Whatever he wanted. Usually, Ilya preferred to be the dominant one. It came naturally to him. It turned him on. But right now, he couldn't even conjure up dominance if he tried. He was completely at Shane's mercy, and to his shock, he fucking loved it.

He knew that Shane was strong. Strong enough to move Ilya however he wanted to move him. To do to him whatever he wanted to do. The feeling was so foreign to him, but it had his heart hammering out of control with need for it. Whatever you want, Shane. Please. Whatever you want.

A hand ran down his stomach. “I don't know what that means.” Shane smiled down at him, and fuck. He realized he had been saying the words in his head out loud in Russian. He was so dazed and undone by Shane above him that he was babbling. What the hell is he doing to me?

“Sorry. Yes. Please. I want.” Ilya breathed out.

He was still vibrating with need as Shane leaned down and pressed open mouth kisses to his throat. His lips trailed down to his collarbones, then even further still to his chest.

Shane licked a stripe between his pecs, just as he had the previous night when he licked salt off Ilya's body, then kept moving down, licking and kissing until Ilya was squirming beneath him and his mouth touched Ilya's waist band.

“You know, I've always fucking wondered if it was true.” Shane was saying, hands giving a teasing tug to his boxer briefs.

It took a moment for Ilya to find his voice. He felt completely delirious. “If what was true?” He lifted his head a bit to look down at him.

Shane smiled. “If it was as big as everyone says. I mean, I've seen it, obviously. But never like this.” He traced a finger up the outline, and Ilya exhaled shakily.

Shane lowered his head again to kiss each hip bone, and the shivering started to intensify. He slowly pulled Ilya's underwear down, and the feeling of the cold air hitting his flushed skin made him gasp softly in relief.

“Fuck, Ilya.” Shane stared down at his cock and licked his lips.

In any other circumstance, Ilya would preen under the attention. He would make a quip; ask Shane if he liked what he saw, ask Shane if he thought he could handle it, tell Shane to take a picture instead of staring.

All he could do instead was try his best to regulate his breathing.

“Look at you.” Shane breathed out, taking Ilya in his hand. He stroked him slowly, mouth hovering over him, breath blowing teasingly against him.

Ilya arched slightly into the touch, groaning at the feeling of Shane's big, calloused hand wrapped around him. His grip was strong and perfect and Ilya was already starting to writhe and squirm uncontrollably.

Shane's other hand came to press at his hip, holding him steady as he closed the distance with his mouth and messily licked the head, swiping the clear liquid that had been dripping there into his mouth. Ilya hardly even got half his gasp out before Shane's lips were wrapped around him, and he was swallowing him down, down, down, drool thoroughly coating him as he went.

Holy fucking shit.

Shane's mouth was so wet and so hot that the sound that was punched from Ilya's chest was almost demonic. He felt Shane's jaw and throat open for him. Felt Shane's tongue running along the underside of his cock as he slowly picked his head back up, then sunk down again even further.

“Shane, fuck, oh my-” He moaned loudly, hand fisting itself weakly into Shane's hair. Shane hummed around him happily, his pace picking up, hand pressing down hard on Ilya's hip.

It took a moment for him to realize that what he was hearing between the obscenely wet noises was Shane moaning. He was moaning like he was the one being touched, and it made Ilya absolutely insane.

His own moaning was getting out of control, dissolving into whines that he didn't recognize from himself. He could feel Shane's drool soaking the sheets beneath him. Shane opened his eyes, locked them on Ilya's, and the glassy, lust-filled look he gave him was enough to make Ilya feel himself slipping into some kind of existential abyss.

This was happening. It was actually happening. Shane Hollander was giving him the best head of his life. He was blowing him and his fucking mind at the same time. He was getting his dick sucked by a man. An angelic man that had Ilya screaming internally how could I not have known? How did I never realize?

The feeling of blunt nails scratching down his stomach snapped him back to attention. Shane was digging into him, moaning and rutting against the bed, and Ilya's jaw was completely slack with astonishment until the sparks of pleasure made his neck arch and his whole body tense.

He moaned breathily, thighs starting to tremble as his orgasm came crashing down around him. “Shane, I'm- fuck-” He was barely able to get the words out, but Shane gripped his hips even tighter with both hands.

Ilya felt himself spasm like the demon that moaned from inside him was being exorcised. His back arched, his eyes rolled back, and he grunted out another loud moan as his shaky hands tangled themselves in Shane's hair. Shane swallowed every last drop, leaving Ilya breathless and boneless and splayed out.

“Jesus christ, Shane.” Ilya mumbled out. “You are- fuck. So good.”

Shane crawled on top of him, nuzzling against his neck with a smile, but Ilya pulled him up further until their mouths met. He needed to kiss Shane again like he needed air to breathe. He swiped his tongue languidly into Shane's mouth, sucking and biting at anything he could reach. Shane's tongue. His lips. He was sure what he was tasting was his own cum, which was a strange thought, but he didn't care. Kissing Shane was intoxicating. When they finally broke apart, Shane collapsed next to him, and turned on his side to face him.

But Ilya couldn't stop himself from moving in closer. Shane was all he knew right now, and he needed more of him. All of him.

“Shane.” Ilya breathed out. “Shane, I need- I need to-” The words wouldn't come out, but he needed to fucking touch.

“It's okay. What do you need?” Shane asked gently, pressing sweet kisses to each corner of his mouth.

“You. I need- fuck.” He pressed a hand to Shane's chest. “Need to see you. Please.”

Shane moved to lay on his back, and Ilya sat up on his knees, his movements too quick and uncoordinated as he flipped on the light at his bedside. His breath hitched as the warm glow of the light perfectly illuminated Shane where he was laid out in the middle of the bed.

“You-” Ilya swallowed, a tentative hand hovering over Shane as his eyes roamed him. “You are so- gospodi, Shane. I can't-” Why could he not fucking speak? “Krasivyy.” Beautiful. His brain was finally able to supply the word, albeit in Russian, but he would take what he could get at the moment.

“You can touch.” Shane looked up at him with those devastating brown eyes, and he finally lowered his hand to Shane's chest. He squeezed at the firm muscle there, feeling transfixed as he moved to straddle Shane, both hands roaming over his body slowly.

To his shock, he was already starting to get hard again at the feeling of Shane beneath his hands. His heart rate was ticking back up as he looked down to where Shane was straining against his underwear.

The idea of what he wanted to do made his nerves go haywire, but his body seemed to take over for him. He got between Shane's legs, and before he knew what he was doing, he was nuzzling his face all over Shane's clothed cock.

“Fuck.” Shane's hands went into his curls. “You want it, don't you?”

Ilya nodded against him, his open mouth rubbing over the fabric. His hands clung desperately into Shane's thighs. Desperate may not have even been a strong enough word.

“You can have it, baby.”

Ilya's stomach swooped so violently that he had to stop and collect himself for a moment. Fuck, was he panting again? He looked up at Shane, and his face must have done nothing to hide his nervousness.

Shane cradled one side of Ilya's face in his hand. “You don't have to do anything you aren't ready to do, okay?”

Ilya turned into the touch, face nuzzling into his hand like he'd been doing to his crotch. He couldn't stop. He needed Shane so badly that he felt drunk with it.

“I want.” He started to yank on Shane's boxer briefs. He wanted very fucking badly.

Shane lifted his hips, and when Ilya slid the underwear off, the sight of Shane's cock made his heart stutter. He was big; way bigger than Ilya ever realized, and incredibly hard, and leaking steadily.

It was dizzying how badly he wanted it.

He lowered his mouth to him, his heartbeat wild, and licked up the length, reveling in how Shane breathed out a soft moan. He felt perfect against his tongue. And when he slid the first few inches of Shane's cock into his mouth, tasting the salty liquid and feeling the weight of him and the way he stretched open his jaw, Ilya felt himself coming undone again.

He couldn't believe he had a cock in his mouth. He couldn't believe how much he fucking loved it. His hands dug hard into Shane's thighs as he tried to take more.

“Just like that.” Shane moaned out, his hand threaded into Ilya's hair.

Ilya kept moving, taking as much as he could, feeling his brain go fuzzy as Shane kept moaning and writhing beneath him.

“Fuck, Ilya. That's good. Relax your jaw, just like that baby.”

He was moaning around Shane now; the praise and the pet name making him truly feel out of his mind. He couldn't stop himself from grinding down against the bed, mouth working as Shane encouraged him.

Suddenly, Shane was tugging on his curls. “Shit, fuck, I'm gonna come, you need to-”

He pulled Ilya off of him, a long string of saliva still connecting Shane to his open mouth. Shane went to wrap a hand around himself, but Ilya batted it away and replaced it with his own.

It only took a few quick strokes before Shane was coming all over his own stomach, coating his abs as he whined out his moans. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was slack and Ilya was so in awe that he hadn't even realized what happened until he moved to sit up, and felt the wet spot beneath him.

Yeah. He just fucking came. Again. From sucking Shane's dick and watching him come. He looked down at himself, then back up at Shane who was staring at him with wide eyes.

“Holy fucking shit. Did you…?” Shane sat up slightly. “Oh wow.”

Ilya put his hands over his face, feeling how on fire his cheeks were. Ilya, you are a fucking goner.

“No, no no. Don't. That's so fucking hot, Ilya. Come here. Please.”

When his hands lowered and their eyes met, there was no way of resisting. He crawled on top of Shane, not even minding the sticky mess pressed between their bellies as he stared down at him, their faces inches apart.

This was real. Shane was real. His two orgasms from Shane were real. But instead of the panic he expected to grip at him and pull him under, he just felt…

Ilya pressed their lips together, sighing happily at the way Shane melted into it.

“That was-” Ilya breathed out a small laugh. “I do not know what to say. You are- fuck, Shane.”

Shane just smiled and pulled him into a deeper kiss.

Eventually and begrudgingly, he peeled himself away and returned with a washcloth to clean them both up. By the time he was done, Shane already seemed half asleep, but the way he immediately cuddled up to Ilya when he laid back down made his heart squeeze.

He held Shane in his arms. Pressed his face into his hair.

“Thank you.” He whispered into the darkness.

Shane kissed his chest sleepily. “You don't need to thank me. Wanted to. Felt so good.” He mumbled against him, words slurring slightly.

And wasn't that the fucking truth. Only good was not nearly enough for what he felt. There was no denying it. Shane Hollander had just changed his fucking life.

A terrifyingly raw feeling filled his chest. He held onto Shane tighter, like he would somehow slip away.

Maybe this was the one and only time. Maybe this night was all he got, and Shane would move on. He really, really hoped not, and the thought made his eyes start to sting.

But what a perfect night it was. Even if this was it, even if he could never have Shane again, he would hold on to this forever. It was something he knew he could never forget. He never wanted to.

He forced his eyes to stay open, wanting to let the night last just a little bit longer.

The soft heat and bright light of the band of sun that stretched its way across Ilya's face pulled him from sleep with a quiet grumble. As his eyes adjusted, he was immediately met with a sight that made his stomach sink.

The space in the bed next to him was empty.

A small wave of nausea rolled over him as he realized he didn't hear Shane in the bathroom, either. Maybe his fears from last night were founded after all. Maybe Shane didn't want the awkwardness of waking up in the bed they had just ravaged each other in the previous night when he had no intention of letting it continue.

Or maybe Ilya had just imagined the entire fucking thing, and the last shred of his sanity had finally slipped away.

No. The rag he'd used to clean them up was still crumpled at his bed side. He could still feel Shane all over him. Under his hands. In his mouth. Sprawled on top of him, warm and perfect.

He doesn't want you, Ilya. Not like that. His stomach lurched again. Why should Ilya be surprised by it? How many one night stands had he gone through in his life?

But therein lies the problem. Ilya had slept with many people in his life. It never, ever felt like this before. And not only because Shane was a man; but because what he wanted from Shane felt different from what he'd ever wanted from anyone else. It was different.

A thousand thoughts tangled themselves up in his head, confusing and terrifying and real. You got into bed with another man. And you loved every single fucking second of it. You aren't straight. You live in a country where you need to be straight. You're catching feelings for Shane. You live on opposite sides of the world. Shane doesn't need your mess. He's way too fucking good for you. You always let yourself want what isn't possible.

Ilya dragged himself to the bathroom, struggling under the weight of his own mind. The wedding is today. Pull yourself the fuck together.

He took a quick, ice cold shower, brushed his teeth, threw on a pair of clean underwear, and desperately averted his gaze from the pair on the floor that Shane tugged off of him last night. When the door to the room swung open, he swallowed hard, stuck in place where he stood at the foot of the bed.

Shane shut the door with his foot, turning to face him with a coffee in each hand, jumping slightly. “Shit. I didn't think you'd be up. I was trying to wake you all morning. You sleep like a fucking brick, by the way.”

He offered Ilya a small smile, striding across the room. “I got us coffee. The line was insane. They really invited way too many people to this thing.” He sat the coffees down on the desk, then looked at Ilya with a slight frown. “You okay?”

Ilya opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again. Shane was standing in front of him, head cocked slightly as he studied him with his brows pinched together in concern.

Don't do it, Ilya. He chided himself internally, but when had impulse control ever been his forte? He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Shane's, feeling a weight fly off his chest when Shane's arms came around his neck as he kissed him deeply. More, his mind screamed. Fuck, you want so much more. Does he want more?

He let out a soft exhale when he pulled back to meet those beautiful doe eyes.

“I, uh. Guess you know you were very right. About me being curious.”

Shane let out a soft laugh. “Yes, I figured.”

“Well. I…last night. I liked. Very much.”

“Yeah, I think I figured that one out too.” Shane bit back a grin.

“Ah. He is back to being a brat.” Ilya backed him into the desk, his heart fluttering a bit when Shane's hands came up to rest on his bare chest.

“I think you like that, Rozanov.”

He had a point. Ilya swallowed back the cowardly part of him that was begging not to ask the next question. “And what about you? Last night…did you like?” He forced himself to keep his eyes on Shane, though he very badly wanted to hide himself.

Shane sighed through a smile, one hand moving to the side of Ilya's jaw. “Oh, Ilya.”

He was looking at Ilya with a strange mixture of fondness and amusement that was making his head spin.

“You know, I always thought maybe you had some kind of weird, supernatural ability to read people. Maybe I was wrong about that.”

Ilya blinked at him blankly.

Shane's hand moved to the back of his head, fingers scratching softly through his curls just as he had on the beach. “I liked.” He then dropped his voice an octave and put on what Ilya assumed was supposed to be an imitation of his accent. “Very much.”

The grin that split Ilya's face was so immediate that it almost hurt his cheeks. “Do not mock me, Hollander. I am trying to be honest. Is very, ah…vulnerable.”

Shane's face softened as he pushed a damp curl from Ilya's face. “Hey. I know that isn't easy to do. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you.”

When was the last time someone said those words to him? A strange warmth spread through his limbs. It's worth everything, he wanted to say. To feel seen. To feel like someone cares. Especially now, when he had never felt more unsure of himself in his life.

“Thank you, Shane.”

They searched each other's eyes for a moment before Shane leaned in to kiss him again. He trailed kisses from Ilya's mouth, across his jaw, and to his ear, where he let his lips linger. “And just so you know, if you're curious about other things, maybe I can show you later. If you behave yourself at the wedding today.”

Fucking hell. Ilya felt his whole body shiver. “Shane.” He breathed out quietly. “You are trying to kill me, I think.”

“Hm, not yet. I at least need to let you fuck me first.”

Ilya's hands immediately flew to cover his face, but they did little to muffle the sound of him whining. “Shaaaane.”

He was absolutely certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Shane was determined for Ilya to meet his demise.

“You've been talking about my ass for years, Rozanov. Time to prove if you love it as much as you say you do.” He could hear the cheeky grin in Shane's voice as he gave Ilya a playful swat on the ass. “Now come on. Coffee's getting cold.”

He nudged a cup into Ilya's hands. Ilya shook his head, unable to stop his own grin, though he could feel the lingering heat on his face.

Note to self: never, ever under estimate Shane fucking Hollander.

Though they were technically in the bridal party, both Shane and Ilya had been banished to get ready with Cliff and the groomsmen. It mostly meant sitting around the sprawling suite and watching the guys shoot pool while everyone sipped on scotch that Ilya didn't even want to know the cost of.

They each got called back one by one to sit in the groomer's chair, which Ilya had almost refused, until Cliff assured him that Svetlana chose the groomer specifically and would probably beat his ass if she found out he was being difficult. He ended up pleasantly surprised with the way his curls were neatly styled with the sides brushed back, which always showed off his jawline, so he wasn't going to complain.

As they all gathered up to make their way to the ceremony space, Ilya turned around to find Shane was the last one out. He came walking around the corner quickly, straightening out his cuffs, and he looked….well. He looked fucking devastatingly perfect.

The two of them were dressed in matching wine colored suits that contrasted the linen color of the groomsmen. Ilya could see that, just like his own, Shane's suit was very clearly custom tailored. It fit the shape of him in a way that felt like it shouldn't be allowed. The deep maroon color seemed to highlight the natural blush in his cheeks. His hair was styled perfectly, with a few dark strands falling forward to frame his face. Ilya couldn't believe he had actually gotten the privilege to kiss this man on the mouth. It was fucking with his mind. But then again, this entire weekend thus far had really been one huge mind fuck.

Shane came up to his side, their hands brushing together, and Ilya wasn't sure how he was going to last through this entire wedding. Not with Shane so close, looking like that. He took a steadying breath before falling in line to follow the group outside.

The ceremony space was truly beautiful; nestled within a clearing in the pines that filtered the golden light of the evening. Every single chair was filled, creating a vast sea of guests for them to walk between. Ilya could feel the nerves radiating from Shane as he bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Hollander. You play in arenas in front of thousands of screaming people. This is nothing.” He patted Shane's lower back, then held his hand there when he felt the way Shane leaned back into the touch. “Relax, lyubimyy.” He whispered gently.

Shane turned to him slightly. “What does that word mean, anyway? Sveta says that to Marly all the time.”

Fuck. Ilya's stupid fucking tender heart was going to get him into even more trouble than his dick. “Is nothing. Quiet. We are starting now.”

Ilya stood back as each pair walked the aisle and took their places. He tried not to stare at the way Shane's ass moved when he walked. He stared the entire time.

And when it came to his own turn, Ilya could swear the universe was purposely out to torment him as much as possible, because a sunbeam broke through the trees and cascaded perfectly across Shane's face. It quite literally took Ilya's breath away. Shane's beautiful face was lit in gold; his eyes turned to cognac and a light heat flush sat under his freckles.

Their eyes met, and Ilya's chest fluttered wildly. He was literally walking down a wedding aisle, right toward Shane, who was watching him with a tiny smile tugging on his lips. Ilya had never in his life imagined his own wedding. He never pictured himself actually marrying someone.

Shane Hollander was, apparently, his first for a lot of things.

You are insane, Ilya. Actually insane. He didn't know what to call it, whatever this was that he was feeling. But touching Shane and kissing Shane and sleeping with Shane tucked into his side had left him wanting more so desperately that he could hardly look at him without wanting to sink to his knees.

Instead, he took his place next to Shane, and the breeze picked up and carried his scent straight to Ilya's nose. It made him want to bury his face into Shane's neck and never leave. You need to calm down.

Just as he was trying to will himself to stop letting his imagination spiral out of control over everything he wanted with Shane, his mind went momentarily blank as Svetlana finally appeared at the end of the aisle.

She looked like a goddess, floating angelicly down the aisle draped in white. He immediately felt tears prick at his eyes, and when he turned to face Cliff, the tears spilled over uncontrollably. Cliff was seconds away from sobbing; his chest heaving softly as tears streamed down his cheeks. He loved her. Ilya could see it in his eyes. He loved her like he needed her to breathe.

It was horrendously romantic, and it terrified Ilya the way he found himself curious about that, too. What would it feel like to be in love? To look someone in the eyes and know you would carve open your own chest, rip out your beating heart, and put it in their hands if they asked?

The thought buzzed low in his mind through the entire ceremony, with the beautiful couple being wed in front of him, and the man who was making Ilya hopelessly unravel standing behind him.

It felt almost like he was in a trance, until suddenly everyone was clapping, and Svetlana and Cliff were walking down the aisle with their hands clasped together. He blinked a few times, then felt Shane's knuckles gently brush away a tear that had been sitting on his jaw.

Before he could change his mind, he wrapped an arm around Shane's middle as they walked side by side back down the aisle. He could let his insane mind have this for just a little longer.

Delivering a speech half in Russian and half in English to a room full of hundreds of people while stone sober was no simple feat, but judging by the way Shane was looking at him as he returned to the table, he must have done something right.

They were, of course, seated at the same table. Ilya wasn't sure yet if this was the best or worst place for him to be sitting. He slid into the empty seat next to Shane, and already started to undo his tie so he could unbutton his shirt a bit.

“That was really sweet, Ilya.” Shane bumped their knees together under the table. “I didn't realize you were getting so soft.”

“Soft?” Ilya turned to him, cocking a brow. “Around you, Hollander? Never.” He threw in a wink, and immediately regretted it when Shane started to smirk. He apparently hadn't learned his fucking lesson about flirting with Shane.

“Thank god.” Shane's hand covertly wrapped around Ilya's knee under the table, then slid a slow path up his inner thigh. Ilya could feel his heartbeat everywhere. Shane's hand stayed on his thigh, fingers brushing against the seam of his pant leg, and Ilya had to reach for his water glass.

This was bad. This was going to be very, very bad. The intensity in which he wanted Shane was not fucking normal. It wasn't like seeing a hot girl in the club and knowing you wanted to take her home. This was primal. His curiosity was completely out of control. Whatever Shane would let him have, he wanted. God, he wanted it so badly.

There was a strange juxtaposition of the romantic air around being at a wedding, and how insatiably horny he was for the man who currently had his hand about an inch away from his dick, rubbing little circles against his thigh.

He wanted Shane to touch his skin and tell him everything he wanted out of life. He also wanted Shane to spit into his fucking mouth. He took another sip of cold water and undid another button on his shirt.

“Do you like weddings?” Shane's voice floated by him as Ilya turned to see the way he was scanning the crowded room.

“They are okay. Romantic, maybe.” He shrugged, pushing at the food on his plate.

Shane crinkled his nose. “Mm. I guess. Maybe if you have a date.”

“If?” Ilya put a hand to his chest. “Shane, you have dumped me already?”

He felt Shane lean close to his ear. “After last night? I already told you, Rozanov. I'm not done with you yet.”

Ilya grabbed onto Shane's hand where it was still on his thigh and held it like he needed it to anchor him in place, because he sort of fucking did. Shane's mouth was so warm near his ear and his words made a layer of sweat coat his skin.

“You're sweating.” Shane observed as he straightened himself in his seat.

“Is hot in here.” Ilya muttered, loosening his grip on Shane's hand.

“Sure.”

“I guess is because I am next to Shane Hottlander.”

“Must be it.” Shane's hand slid up to the crease between his thigh and his crotch, finger running along it slowly.

Ilya had to swallow down whatever embarrassing sound he was sure he was about to make. “Shane.” He urged, jaw flexing.

“Should I stop?” Shane asked quietly, his hand starting to retract, but Ilya grabbed it and held it in place.

“No. I mean. Yes. Don't- fuck.” He was getting hard, which was very obvious in his very well-fitting pants.

He watched Shane's eyes subtly glance at his lap. “Sorry about that.”

“Gospodi, Hollander, you really are a fucking brat.” Ilya mumbled, still trying to keep his voice low enough to not alert Shane's teammates at their table of what exactly they were up to in their corner.

Shane leaned closer again, looking past Ilya as he spoke just above a whisper. “Wanna see if you can fuck it out of me?”

The strangled cough that wrenched violently from his chest made every single head at their table turn toward him. He threw his napkin into his lap, tried to clear his throat, as if that would somehow excuse the sound he just made, and pinched himself on the arm. He could feel himself blushing from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.

Shane gave his thigh a firm squeeze before he stood. “I'm gonna grab a drink.”

Ilya needed to inject chilled vodka directly into his veins at this point. The message had become far too clear. Shane wanted Ilya to fuck him. He could have fucked that bartender. He was sure there were other suitors in this room of hundreds. But he wanted Ilya. Ilya, who had never fucked a man. Who had never even wanted to fuck a man until 2 days ago. Who wanted to fuck Shane so badly that his leg was currently bouncing under the table because intensity of it was so overwhelming.

He tried to force himself to focus on St.Simon and Hammersmith talking about the upcoming preseason, though he was particularly zoned out until Shane reappeared and set a glass down in front of him.

“I was assured that this is the vodka Sveta had brought from Russia.”

“Oh wow. Nothing for the rest of us?” St.Simon raised his eyebrows.

“He's my date and I'm a gentleman. Not your fucking errand boy.” Shane sipped his drink casually as the table erupted around him.

“Looks like we get spicy Cap tonight! My favorite fucking flavor.” Hammersmith rubbed his hands together, clearly amused.

Ilya very badly wanted to throw in a quip about how he would certainly love to taste every flavor of Shane, but then he remembered that Shane held the power to drive him to fall to his knees and start begging in front of this entire wedding, so he kept his mouth shut.

He wasn't sure if more vodka was going to hurt or help the situation, but he supposed there was only one way to find out. He threw his head back, took a large swallow, and pressed his knee against Shane's with a playful smile.

Ilya was going to enjoy this fucking wedding, even if his date was actually trying to kill him.

Nothing made Ilya feel more alive than dancing. Maybe hockey did, at one point. But there was no point in dwelling on that now. Not when he was tipsy on high quality Russian vodka and the DJ was playing banger after banger.

He had just finished scream rapping No Hands with Cliff when the rest of the Boston boys started to flock around them, spilling beer and tripping over each other as they tried to form a dance circle. Shane had already stubbornly sworn that he wouldn't be dancing, so Ilya wasn't surprised not to see him amongst his teammates.

Instead, Ilya spotted him leaning against a table, chatting with someone Ilya didn't recognize. Shane's suit jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows, exposing strong forearms. The way he was leaning made his back curve and his ass poke out. Heat flared across Ilya's skin. He undid another button on his own shirt, not caring that it was now practically open down to his stomach.

He had to physically tear his eyes away from Shane, trying to go back to dancing, hoping to keep his cool long enough to make it out of this reception without doing anything that screamed I am impatiently waiting to fuck Shane Hollander's brains out.

But a few songs later, just as he felt himself start to slip back into losing himself in the music, he felt someone's lips hot against his ear.

“You need to keep that shirt buttoned up.”

Shane's voice melted through him, exposing every crack in his resolve.

“Why is that?”

“Don't tell me you can't see all these women watching you with their tongues hanging out.” Shane moved to his front, arms draped loosely around Ilya's neck.

“Ah. You do not want anyone else looking, kotik?” Ilya teased.

“And what if I don't?” Shane was still speaking into his ear, their bodies swaying to the music.

Ilya's pulse ticked up. “I belong to you now or something, Hollander?”

Shane's lips pressed to his ear now. “I think that's exactly what you want.”

Ilya swallowed, lips parting slightly. His hands went to Shane's waist.

“You walk around with your shirt open like a slut, but I think you've always wanted to be a good boy.”

Holy fucking shit. Ilya's knees went momentarily weak. To hold himself upright, his body had the genius idea to grab Shane's ass. The startled little gasp Shane made hit Ilya like a bolt of lightning, causing him to grab and squeeze harder, pulling Shane closer against him.

“Fuck, Rozanov. I thought I told you to fucking behave.”

Ilya's resolve was no longer cracked. It was now crumbling hopelessly to the floor. He grabbed Shane's ass with both hands. “Maybe I do not want to behave anymore.” He growled.

Shane grabbed the hair at the nape of Ilya's neck and yanked it like he was scruffing a dog. “No?”

“Shane.” Ilya breathed out, eyes falling shut. “Fuck, Shane. I need-”

“I know.” Shane cooed, his hand petting at the back of Ilya's neck now. “But we have to stay a little longer. And you need to control it.”

It probably meaning the massive hard on that he currently had pressed against Shane's hip. His hips stuttered forward, seeking friction. “I can't. I…Shane.”

Before he knew what was happening, Shane turned in his arms, his back now pressed to Ilya's front. Shane's hips start to roll gently in time to the music as he grinded back against him, and Ilya was going to come in his fucking custom tailored pants in the middle of a wedding, but he didn't care. It was so mind numbingly hot that his brain blanked out. His hand gripped hard to Shane's waist as his chest heaved.

Fuck, the way Shane's hips fucking rolled was going to make Ilya drool like an animal. He wondered if that's how his hips would move riding Ilya's cock. Oh fuck. He pressed his mouth to the spot beneath Shane's ear, kissing and licking and panting against the skin as he pressed his own hips further into Shane's ass.

Everyone around them seemed too drunk or caught up in dancing to care, and Ilya was so fucking needy for Shane that he was beyond giving a fuck who saw. He bit down on Shane's earlobe, and Shane exhaled, pressing back into him encouragingly.

When Ilya pressed his lips to the side of Shane's neck and sucked the flesh hard into his mouth, Shane gasped, his hand flying to the back of Ilya's head. He tugged at Ilya's hair, trying to pull him off.

“Fuck. Ilya, baby, you have to stop.”

Baby. Ilya's mouth suctioned harder, biting down a bit as he went. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to.

“Stop, stop.” Shane moaned out, tugging his hair harder. “Not here.” He pulled himself away from Ilya's mouth, and Ilya let out a pathetic whine. Shane turned to face him, and Ilya clung to him, pressing their foreheads together.

“Shane. I need you. You don't- you don't fucking understand. You don't-”

Shane's hand cradled his jaw. “Shhh. I know.”

He felt completely out of his mind. He let out a little whimper, brows knitted together as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally.

“Are you guys okay?” Svetlana’s voice broke through the fog in his mind.

“We're good. I think he had a little bit too much to drink. I might take him back to our room.” Shane held onto Ilya by the shoulder.

Ilya was drunk. Just not on vodka, or any other kind of alcohol. He was drunk on his need for Shane. Absolutely falling all over himself like an overgrown puppy.

“Hmm. Well, fuck. I didn't want you guys to miss the after party, we're meeting back at the hotel bar.”

“Oh. Right. Well, uh. Maybe I can get him sobered up a little? We can meet you guys later.”

Everything felt like a blur as Shane said a quick goodbye to Svetlana and started to tug him along by the hand. He stayed close behind Shane, his head swimming. He led Ilya to a golf cart that was valeting the wedding guests across the property from the reception area to back to the hotel.

Shane gave the driver a polite smile as he pulled Ilya with him into the backseat. The moment they were both seated, Ilya grabbed Shane by the jaw and essentially shoved his tongue into his mouth.

Apologies to the man driving this stupid thing, but Ilya wasn't wasting another moment of this night. Shane made a surprised sound, but leaned into the kiss, crawling halfway into Ilya's lap as they licked needily into each other's mouths.

Shane was gripping into his hair, and on a particularly rough tug, Ilya moaned out loudly. “Fuck, Shane.”

The sound of a throat clearing made both their heads snap up. They were parked in front of the hotel; the driver awkwardly trying to look anywhere but at them. Ilya wiped drool from his chin as he stumbled out behind Shane, clinging close to him again as they made their way inside and back up to their room.

The second the door shut behind them, their mouths crashed together again as they both rushed to kick off their shoes and undo their belts. They stumbled to the bed after they each kicked their pants off, Ilya's fingers trying desperately to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

But suddenly, Shane was pushing him by the chest until he was laying on his back, then ripped Ilya's shirt open. Ilya gasped, mouth open in shock as buttons went scattering across the bed.

Shane straddled him before leaning down to bite him hard on the pec.

“Shane, fuck-” Ilya groaned, and Shane bit down even harder. “Oh my god.”

He felt Shane's mouth leave a trail of kisses from his chest to his neck and all the way to his ear. “Want you inside me.” His voice was breathy and dripping with sex. “You want to fuck me, Rozanov?”

Ilya nodded jerkily, his hips pushing up desperately into Shane's as he rutted them together. He was sure he'd never wanted anything more in his life. Shane's mouth met his in a messy kiss.

“Tell me.” He said against Ilya's lips.

“Fucking- fucking, need it, Shane.” Ilya said between little moans and gasps as they continued to rub against each other. “Need you.”

He reached down and tugged at Shane's underwear, pulling it down to his thighs before grabbing his bare ass with both hands. Ilya let out a strange, feral noise at the feeling of it. He squeezed it hard, pulling him apart in a way that made Shane gasp out and bite down on Ilya's lower lip.

Shane reached between them to push Ilya's underwear down too, taking him in his hand to stroke him a few times. “Fuck, you're so hard. Already dripping.” Shane murmured, and Ilya could barely even form a thought as his finger brushed over Shane's rim experimentally. He exhaled shakily as Shane hummed in approval.

“Wanna eat you out. Please, Shane. Fuck. Please.” Ilya begged like a dog, and Shane kissed him gently with a smile.

“You ask so nicely.” He cooed. “You want it?”

“God, Shane, I fucking need it. Fuck-”

What the hell was he turning into? He felt absolutely feral. Like he was seconds away from bursting into tears from how badly he wanted. Shane had a tight grip on his leash, and Ilya fucking loved it.

“Shhh. It's okay.” Shane kissed him again, then rolled onto his stomach, plump ass on display. Ilya felt his jaw go slack because Shane Hollander was laid out in front of him like a meal. Ilya slid himself down the bed, used both hands to carefully spread Shane apart, and felt his mouth immediately flood with saliva. He may have no experience being with another man, but this much he knew he was good at.

The whine that escaped his mouth second it pressed onto Shane's hole was one of pure relief. He started to work at it urgently with lips and tongue, the same way he would kiss into an open mouth, and Shane's high pitched moan sent a jolt straight to his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Ilya-” Shane's back arched as he started to grind back against Ilya's tongue, and Ilya was moaning louder than he would be if he was getting his own dick sucked. He felt absolutely possessed with it. Drool slid out of his mouth like he was actively trying to devour Shane, because he fucking was.

Shane's hand reached back, grabbed Ilya by the back of the hair, and pressed his face into him even more firmly as he writhed against him rhythmically. “God, your mouth is fucking good.”

Ilya's hands gripped bruisingly into the backs of Shane's thighs. All these fucking years he spent appreciating Shane's ass from afar when he could have been in it face first, suffocating and so fucking turned on that he was afraid he might accidentally come. What an idiot he had been.

Suddenly, Shane was pulling away, getting up onto his knees and leaving Ilya staring open-mouthed and drooling.

“Fuck, baby. Lay back. Come on.”

Ilya obeyed immediately, moving to lay on his back. Shane leaned over the side of the bed and popped back up with a small bottle of lube as he straddled Ilya again.

All he could do was watch with awe as Shane drizzled lube onto his own fingers, reached behind himself, and started to finger himself open as he stared at Ilya with pupils blown wide.

“Gonna fucking ride you.” Shane said into his ear. Ilya whined, turned his head, and pulled him into a deep kiss. He got lost in the way Shane moaned around his tongue, his head buzzing. We're about to fuck. Holy fucking shit.

The sound of a condom wrapper tearing snapped him back into the moment. “Hold still, baby.” Shane said softly, and even the feeling of the condom being rolled on almost fucking sent him over the edge. His whole body quivered.

“God, look at you.” Shane squeezed at one of his pecs, his other hand lining Ilya up against him.

Oh fuck. This was real. This was it. Shane was about to-

“Oh my fucking-” Ilya's whole body arched as he let out a primal moan.

The tight heat that wrapped around him as Shane sat himself down fully was so intense that he almost felt like he was losing his virginity all over again.

“Holy fuck, you're fucking big.” Shane's hands gripped down hard onto his chest. “Jesus.”

Ilya's heart was thumping out of control. He couldn't get his breathing right. Shane's body rolled once slowly, and he nearly choked on his own spit.

“Mmmm, fuck. You better hold on to something, Rozanov.”

It was the last thing Ilya heard before Shane was bouncing on him, unrelentingly. His hands flew to Shane's hips, his moans coming out short and gasping.

The bed was groaning beneath them as Shane rode him hard into the mattress. Ilya was fucking stunned. Just a moaning mess, mouth hanging open, unable to tear his eyes away from the way Shane's hips rolled. Shane fucking Hollander is riding my fucking dick right now.

“You were always such- fuck.” Shane moaned, head rolling back. “Such a fucking slut, weren't you? Had to watch you fuck your way through half the girls on the fucking campus.” Shane's voice was rough and ragged, his hands scratching and squeezing Ilya's chest.

He leaned down close to him, not breaking his rhythm. “Now you're my fucking slut.”

Oh fuck. Holy fuck. Ilya moaned so loudly it reverberated off the walls. He wasn't going to fucking last. Yours. He wanted to scream it. Yours yours yours. I'll be your fucking slut. I'll be anything for you.

Shane's mouth was then unexpectedly at his throat, sucking a bruise harshly into the flesh.

“Yes, Shane, fuck-” Ilya gasped out. Shane soothed the spot with soft kisses that made Ilya's stomach flutter.

He felt completely unmoored. He couldn't stop his hips from bucking hard up into Shane, who threw his head back with a loud moan. “Yes, fuck. Like that.”

The praise made his brain go fuzzy. He was suddenly rolling them both, somehow staying inside Shane as he flipped them around so Shane was on his back with his legs wrapped around Ilya's waist.

Ilya was experienced in fucking. More than experienced. But this truly was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

His hips stuttered as he whined, pressing into Shane uncoordinated and wild. “Fuck, Shane, fuck-" He whimpered out. He felt tears flood the corners of his eyes. He was so overwhelmed by the feeling of Shane beneath him, wrapped around him, all over him, that he had actual fucking tears in his eyes. It was unreal. His chest heaved hard as he kept fucking into Shane clumsily.

Shane's hand came to hold the side of his face. “Look at you, baby.” His voice had softened from before. “Doing so fucking good. Just like that.” Shane moaned, arching beautifully beneath him.

The quivering had turned to full body shakes. The tears spilled over onto his cheeks. Nothing had ever even come close to this before. “Shane, I need to- I can't-”

“I know, baby. You're so good. Come on. Come for me. Let me feel you.”

He watched as Shane's hand came down to wrap around himself, and that was all it took to catapult him over the edge.

His orgasm hit him so hard and for so long that he felt himself start to black out. He flooded the condom and fucking collapsed. He was only really aware that Shane had also come because he could feel it hot against his skin when their bodies pressed together.

How long it took him to come back down to earth, he couldn't really be sure. But he eventually was able to feel Shane's hand in his hair and the stray tear sliding down his own cheek.

“Holy shit.” Was all he could manage, and Shane laughed softly, scratching into his scalp.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Shane, you are-” He swallowed. He didn't know how honest he should be. You are the best fuck I've ever had, and I don't think it's even close. You are literally rewiring my entire brain. You are making me want things that I know aren't possible, but fuck, I want them so badly.

He lifted his head to look at Shane then. The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “You are so beautiful.”

The gentle, tender kiss that Shane laid on his lips made his whole chest squeeze.

Ilya was not curious anymore. The truth was laid out beneath him, real and warm and breathing. He was scared out of his mind.

“Mm. I think Sveta will kill us both if we don't make it to the after party.” Shane mumbled beneath him.

“Shane. You just make me come so hard I think I saw gates of heaven. Maybe hell. I do not know. But you really think I can go back out there after this? You have killed me, Hollander. I am dead.”

“You're a big baby.” Shane patted him on the ass. “I'm the one that's gonna be fucking walking sideways. I think I could feel you hitting my kidneys.”

The both dissolved into laughter, limbs tangled together. Ilya liked him so much that it hurt. He liked this feeling so much that he never wanted to leave this bed. He wanted to fuck Shane and hold Shane and laugh with Shane and never have to look back at his life as he knew it before.

“Come on. It's her wedding night. We gotta do this for her. Cold shower. Let's go, Rozanov.”

Ilya whined, pressing his face into Shane's neck. “Noooo, Shane.”

“Get up now and I'll let you eat my ass again tonight. For as long as you want.”

He sat up so quickly it nearly gave him whiplash.

“Uh huh.” Shane laughed. “That's what I thought. Come on, pervert.”

If someone told Ilya on his flight here that he would be walking hand in hand into a post-sex shower with Shane Hollander, counting down the minutes until he got to eat his ass for a second time, he would have assumed that person needed immediate medical help.

Now, he was watching the water cascade over Shane, terrified that his own body wasn't big enough to contain everything he was feeling. Like it would spill out and over and he would never be able to put it all back inside. Shane was funny, and sweet, and kind, and so fucking hot that Ilya truly couldn't understand how he'd been so blind before. Perfect. It was the only word that was right for Shane. Just fucking perfect.

Tell him. Tomorrow, you'll both be leaving. Tell him everything you want to say. Be brave, Ilya.

He took a deep breath and pulled Shane into him. Be brave. He promised himself that he was going to fucking try.

Chapter End Notes

when he rides you directly to the gates of hell 😔🙏

come together everyone lets all manifest Ilya's bravery 🕯🕯

(yes, the chapter count has gone up slightly bc I'm really bad at getting that right on the first try oops)

P.S. THANK YOU all so much for all your comments I do read every single one and I feel all the love 💕🫶

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

The thing about bravery was that it was very much not the same thing as bravado; which meant that finding true, unedited courage within himself was proving to be quite difficult.

I'll find the right words, Ilya ensured himself. Eventually.

For now, he was basking in the view of Shane dressing himself in the ambient lighting of the room. He wondered if Shane was even aware of just how good looking he was. He selfishly did not want to go share him with the rest of the party, but he promised he would, and he wasn't going to give up his reward of full access to Shane's mouth-watering ass.

So he pulled a shirt over his head and stepped in front of the mirror to sort out his tousled curls, but stilled when his eyes tracked downward to the front of his throat. He touched his fingertips to the frankly obscene hickey plastered over the flesh; dark red and blotchy and massive.

“Well.” He started as he turned to face Shane, who was zipping up his jeans. “Do you think they'll wonder what we were doing up here?”

He watched as Shane's eyes landed on his throat, then moved to meet his own. They stared at each other, silent and tight-lipped, before they both burst into laughter.

“Jesus.” Shane said through a laugh, shaking his head. “Fuck. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to do that.”

“Ah, is kind of hot, yes?” Ilya cocked an eyebrow. “Maye we can find a sharpie and you put your autograph over it.”

“Shut the hell up.” Shane smiled as he pressed a hand into Ilya's chest. He leaned in and started to lay soft kisses over the bruise. “You sure you aren't upset? Cause this is kinda…yeah. You don't have anything to wear that would cover it?”

“Yes, Shane. Brought my whole scarf collection with me to summer wedding.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. Don't be an asshole.”

“This is my nature.”

“Whatever. Are you sure you're okay? With people seeing? If you aren't, that's okay. We'll figure something out.”

Ilya figured they were likely already pretty far past plausible deniability after he essentially humped Shane on the dance floor. If he was going to be brave, he needed to start somewhere.

“I am sure.” He nodded. “I bagged Shane Hollander. Will be nice to make everyone jealous.”

Shane hummed happily, then leaned back in to press more insistent kisses on his throat.

“Shane. I thought we are going to the party.” Ilya breathed out.

“We are. Tilt your head back.” Shane tapped Ilya's jaw. He did as he was told.

“Good boy.” Shane smiled against his skin. Oh. He was going to make leaving this room fucking impossible. And when he felt Shane start to suck the already bruised flesh into his mouth, Ilya's head tilted back even further.

“Shane-” The rest of his words of weak protest were drowned out by a quiet moan. There was never any way of predicting Shane Hollander's next move, and he sort of loved it.

Suddenly, a thought passed through his mind. Was Shane like this with his other boyfriends? Fuck them. He dug his fingers into Shane's hair and pushed his head more firmly into him, earning a little hum of appreciation from Shane, who was still latched onto him like a vampire.

He then realized his brain had used the term other boyfriends, as if Ilya was amongst that demographic, and he knew he needed to take a fucking breath.

Shane pulled back, using his hand to wipe the spit from the tender spot on Ilya's throat. He glanced over Shane's shoulder and into the mirror to see the mark had darkened and spread.

“That's what you get for walking around half naked at the reception, by the way.”

“Claimed by Shane Hollander? Horrible punishment.” Ilya smirked.

Shane ran a hand over Ilya's chest. “This t-shirt is at least a size too small. I might have to punish you some more.”

“Fuck.” Ilya threw his head back. “Please. Right here.” He patted the side of his neck eagerly. “You can. I am dead serious, Shane.”

The idea of having his entire neck covered in Shane's love bites was making him feel wild. He wanted them all over his body. Proof that this was real. That Shane chose him.

Shane smiled and kissed him sweetly, in a way that made Ilya chase his lips like they were magnetized together. “Later. Come on.”

He followed close behind Shane like the lovesick little puppy he was, trying to calm himself into as much normalcy as he could muster after having his world so thoroughly rocked that he actually cried.

When they reached the entrance to the outdoor bar, they were immediately spotted by Shane's team. Connors was waving them over enthusiastically to the few tables the Boston boys were occupying as Shane gave him a nod in acknowledgement.

“You go. I will get drinks.” Ilya patted the small of Shane's back and gave him a soft smile before heading off toward the bar.

In his Shane-induced haze, he almost ran directly into Svetlana where she was leaned against a barstool.

“Ilyusha, watch where you're-" She cut herself off mid-sentence as her eyes landed on his throat. Her face slowly stretched into the widest grin he'd ever seen on her.

“Stop.” He turned away from her, raising his fingers to flag down the bartender.

“I said nothing.” She put her hands up defensively. “If you do not want to talk about the absurdly large hickey on your neck that showed up after you and Shane both disappeared and came back wearing different clothes, we do not have to talk about it.” She casually smoothed out her dress, watching him carefully.

He took a deep breath through his nose. “We can talk about it later. But because I know you are nosey and impatient, the answer is yes and it was so good that I am still trying to process it.”

The grin that stretched across her face was so wide it looked painful. “That good, hmm?”

“Honestly? Better.”

Svetlana squealed so loudly that Ilya was sure half the bar turned to look in their direction.

“Calm down.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Oh, Ilyusha.” She pinched his blushing cheek between her fingers, still beaming. “I'm sorry. We will talk about it later.” She watched as the bartender slid him a glass of vodka and a corona, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“Please try to be normal about this, okay? I'm begging you. I'm freaking out enough as it is.” He grabbed both drinks, a jolt of reality flooding his veins. People were going to know. They were actually going to know that he just fucked Shane Hollander. Excitement and pride and shock and panic all twisted together in his gut.

“I will. I promise.” Svetlana gave his arm a squeeze. “Go on. He keeps looking over here. I think he's missing you already.” She gave him a little wink, and when Ilya turned, he saw Shane craning his neck around the crowd to meet Ilya's gaze, and a sense of fondness hit him so hard it felt physical. He gave Svetlana a small parting nod and quickly made his way toward the most beautiful face in the room.

The surge of fondness crested when Shane's smile hit him full force as he handed him the beer bottle. He had a playful glint in his eyes that made Ilya want to lick him. The way Shane automatically scooted his seat closer to him the second he sat down made Ilya want to devour him whole.

“God damn, Rozanov!” St.Simon slapped his hands against the table. “Who the hell were you getting freaky with?”

Connors turned to him in disbelief. “Vic. Are you really that much of an idiot? You know what, actually, don't answer that.”

“What?” St.Simon's brows pinched so close together they were almost touching.

“Don't worry about it.” Shane cut in, his hand finding Ilya's thigh under the table. The contact made Ilya's heart thud, and he suddenly felt like a doomsday clock was looming over their heads, counting down to the moment they would have to say goodbye. The seconds ticked away faster than his pulse. What if you don't get any more chances?

“Come sit on my lap.” Ilya's mouth was to Shane's ear, whispering the words before his brain could filter them away. Shane turned to him, brown eyes searching his.

“Please?” Ilya hated how shy he sounded to his own ears. But then Shane was smiling, and then he was standing, and then he was sat right in Ilya's lap, pulling Ilya's arms around his middle.

Everything about it felt so fucking right. He tightened his arms around Shane, and noted how the conversation around them quickly moved on. No one seemed to care that Shane was cuddled up his lap. It wasn't a scandal. The world went on spinning.

It was the most freeing thing he'd felt in a long, long time.

A glass of vodka later, Ilya was feeling warm and loose and pleased with the solid weight against him. His hands were rested on Shane’s stomach, where he could feel the hard lines of his abs. He let his fingers dance lightly against soft fabric and firm muscle.

Something Cliff said made Shane throw his head back with a laugh, perfectly exposing the smooth expanse of his neck. Ilya happened to look up in that exact moment to see the fucking flirty bartender from the previous night staring back at him. It felt like divine intervention. A wave of possessiveness pulled him under; and without breaking eye contact, he licked his lips then pressed them against Shane's neck, trailing slow kisses upward toward his jaw.

He heard Shane make a sound almost like a purr as he rested his hands over Ilya's with a contented smile. “Behave.”

“This is me behaving.” He said against Shane's skin.

When he saw the bartender was still staring, he sat up straighter and tilted his own head back to show off the artwork Shane had left behind on his skin. Shane leaned back into him, and Ilya shot the man a wink.

He hoped the man got the message. You'll never know what he fucking looks like bouncing on it, because he'll be too busy moaning my name.

Maybe happiness was meant for him, if only for a little while.

Ilya wasn't sure exactly how he'd convinced Shane to join him on the makeshift dance floor in the center of the bar, but he was over the moon with it. A tangle of bodies gathered between the spaces where tables were pushed aside, dancing drunk and uncoordinated as the humid night air swirled around them.

The two of them weren't really dancing; more so observing from the edge of the chaos with Ilya's arms wrapped around Shane from behind as they swayed and laughed and avoided getting drinks sloshed on them. He had been clinging to Shane all night, hands all over him and face pressed into his neck and shoulder every so often to breathe him in. It had earned him a few strange looks. Mostly from the Russians, which he wasn't exactly surprised about.

A voice in the back of his head warned him that word of this would get back to his father. It sent a chill down his spine, but then he remembered that his father barely even recognized him anymore. The clock was still ticking away. He wasn't going to waste this night worrying about consequences, no matter how foolish that was.

Ilya felt Shane twist in his arms a bit, turning his head as he spoke. “There's too much going on in here.”

“We can step out if you want. Down to the beach, maybe?”

Shane nodded, then grabbed onto Ilya's hand, lacing their fingers together. He might as well have reached straight through his chest to grab hold of his heart directly. There was something so distinctly sweet about Shane. He was so careful and gentle, and yet had the ability to make Ilya come undone until he was begging and crying and on another planet entirely. Why are you so perfect? He stopped himself from asking the question out loud as Shane led him away by the hand.

The sound from the bar dissipated behind them as they made their way toward the beach. Music and shouting and singing were replaced with the steady crashing of waves. His hand never left Shane's as they got closer to the water, before Shane carefully sat down in the sand, pulling Ilya down to sit next to him.

Overhead, the sky was so clear that it seemed like a whole universe of stars stretched on above them. He watched Shane in profile as he tilted his head back, eyes roaming the sky slowly.

“You are so beautiful.” Ilya's voice was quiet and reverent. He wasn't even entirely sure if he meant to say the words out loud or not.

Shane turned his head toward him as he let out a surprised little laugh. “Are you trying to romance me?”

“I am being serious, Shane.” He placed a hand on Shane's face, thumb brushing over the freckles at top of his cheek. “I always thought this. Even when I thought…” He paused to take a breath. “Even when I thought I was straight.”

The terrifying finality of saying it out loud was quickly swept away by the softness in Shane's eyes. He leaned his face slightly into Ilya's palm, their gazes locked together. “Yeah?”

“Da.” Ilya whispered and leaned forward, letting their noses brush before he brought their lips together. The moment was so painfully romantic that it almost didn't feel real. But he felt Shane smile against his mouth. Felt their lips meet again. This is real. Scary and perfect and real.

When they pulled apart, Ilya felt the nerves start to flutter wildly in his stomach. He found himself staring at Shane, words stuck behind a swallow that he couldn't get down because his mouth had gone dry. Shane's hand came to push his curls from his forehead, fingers sinking into the top of his hair as he scratched Ilya's scalp gently. “What are you thinking?”

Be brave, Ilya. He opened his mouth, his body automatically leaning toward Shane's again. “I…I like you, Shane.”

Shane smiled, and gave his hair that playful tug that sent lightning down his spine. “I like you too, Ilya.”

“No, I-” Ilya closed his eyes. Opened them again. “I like you. And I have never…it has never been this way for me before.”

“You mean because…I'm a guy?” Shane cocked his head a bit. “I know that you haven't ever…”

“No, no. Well, I mean yes. Obviously. I have never been with a man before. But this is not what I meant. I mean…I have never…I have never felt this way before. About…anyone.” He looked down, as looking directly into those beautiful brown eyes was suddenly the most overwhelming thing he could fathom, but Shane's hand cupped his jaw and raised his head up again.

“What do you mean?”

Ilya groaned softly. “Shane, do not make me keep saying things. I…you know me. I have never had a girlfriend. I have never wanted to have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or anything. Okay?” His cheeks went warm under the intensity of Shane's gaze.

“Still?”

“Yes, still.” His cheeks felt even warmer now. “I just…I never…it has never felt like this for me before. And I…fuck, Shane. I am bad at this.” He sounded like an idiot. So much for fucking romance.

Shane's hand moved to the back of Ilya's neck. “I don't think you could ever be bad at anything.”

The sincerity in Shane's voice made his chest ache. It made his throat burn with the threat of tears. Shane looked at him like he could really see him. Not the version of himself that he flashed around to hide any hint of vulnerability. Him. He'd always been able to see him, he realized.

“And I was serious before. I like you too, Ilya.”

Ilya leaned forward, resting their foreheads together, and tried to still the heavy beating of his heart. But the feel of Shane's lips, soft and warm against his own, only made his heart gallop harder. He kept their mouths lingering close when they pulled back, his fingers dancing across the edge of Shane's jaw.

“You really like me?”

Shane smiled softly. “I do.”

“More than your stupid boyfriend from senior year?”

He could feel Shane's breath warm against his mouth when he laughed. “Yes. More than him.”

“I hated him.”

“He hated you too.” Shane's mouth moved to Ilya's ear. “I think he was jealous of you.”

Ilya's eyes closed. “Why of me?”

“Hmm. Hot guy who was always hanging around. Flirting with me. Making me laugh.” Shane's voice made chills run over his whole body.

“Maybe it was the time I knew you were in your room at a party fucking some girl, and I made him fuck me in the bathroom so I could hear you through the wall while we did it.”

“Shane.” Ilya breathed out, his pulse hammering.

“I told him I was just horny, but I think he knew the truth. He knew I wanted to hear you. Close my eyes and pretend it was you fucking me.” He kissed below Ilya's ear, lips dragging across the skin.

Ilya's whole body felt like it was on fire. “You did?”

“Mm. Came so hard I think he got offended.”

“Fuck, Shane.” He suddenly hated himself even more. He needed to find a fucking time machine. He needed to scream you are bisexual, you fucking moron directly into his own face so he could have Shane for years. Not just for two nights. It wasn't enough time.

“So yes. I like you more than him. Then and now.”

Ilya turned his head and pushed his open mouth against Shane's. The heat of Shane's tongue seemed to permeate through his entire body. The kiss was deep and messy, Ilya's fingers tangling into the back of Shane's hair.

“I would have fucked you better.” He panted into Shane's mouth.

“I know you would have, baby. You already did.”

He sunk his teeth into Shane's bottom lip, unable to stop himself from laughing a bit. “Hm. He must not have been very good.”

“What do you mean?” Shane's hands raked through his curls, tousling them.

“Before you said you do not think I could be bad at anything. I think maybe you were not there when I fucked you. Was, uh. Maybe not best performance. Probably need to redeem myself.”

“Hm. Maybe you weren't there.” Shane leaned back. “You think he ever made me crazy enough to do this to him?” His fingers ran over the bruised skin on Ilya's throat.

Ilya swallowed. “I don't know.”

“No one has.” Shane leaned in again and let his tongue lave over the mark slowly. “Only you.”

He tipped his head back at the feeling, exhaling slowly. “Why?”

“Because you're you.”

Ilya wondered if there was a world record for near death experiences in a single weekend. Shane's tongue swiped across the bruise again before finding its way back into Ilya's mouth. He moaned into him, the sound pulsing through his whole body.

“Fuck.” Ilya's breathing went rough. Shane sat up on his knees, mouth pressing open kisses to the side of Ilya's neck. “Shane.”

“Yes, baby?”

His hands reached down to grab hard at Shane's ass. “I do not think you will let me eat you out on this beach.”

Shane hummed happily. “No. But I think you can be patient.”

Ilya turned and pressed his face into Shane's neck with a pitiful whine.

“Mm. My whiny boy.” Shane teased. God, why did that make his dick twitch? Shane's hand played through the back of his hair. “You just can't help it, can you?”

Ilya shook his head. He really couldn't. “Need you.” His voice was muffled into Shane's skin.

“Yeah?” Shane scratched his head gently. “You'd probably let me ride your face right here, wouldn't you?”

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya whined out again. “Please.”

Shane stood up over him, taking Ilya's jaw in his hand. “You want your reward now?”

Ilya nodded enthusiastically, looking up at Shane with parted lips.

“Let's go, Rozanov.”

He jumped up so quickly he was sure he almost fucking sprained something. He didn't care. He was so entranced by Shane's entire being that he probably wouldn't have even felt it anyway.

Shane laced their fingers again, keeping Ilya close as they quickly dodged their way past the party and back up to their room.

Forget the millions of twinkling stars stretched over the rolling ocean. Nothing was as beautiful as Shane Hollander naked and sprawled on top of the sheets, eyes sharp and wanting.

Ilya stood at the end of the bed, kicking off his last piece of clothing as he marveled at the vision in front of him. Shane crooked a finger, silently beckoning Ilya toward him like a trained dog. His mouth was watering so intensely already that he had to swallow as he slowly crawled between Shane's spread legs.

“You really already need more, hm?” Shane reached out run his fingers along the ridge of Ilya's jaw. Ilya nodded, mouth flooded again as his eyes roamed.

“Take what you need, sweet boy.” He ran his thumb over Ilya's spit slick bottom lip before he laid back, looking very much like a king staring down at him.

Ilya's eyes immediately dropped to the thick, strong legs that had been haunting his mind this entire fucking weekend. He felt a soft groan escape him before he leaned down and sunk his teeth into Shane's inner thigh, mouth latching to the flesh.

“Fuck.” Shane breathed out, hand tangling into Ilya's curls. Ilya's hand dug into the muscle as he sucked a bruise hard into the skin. He pulled back, mouth wet as he moved to mirror the same action on the opposite leg, teeth grazing as he bit and nibbled and whined into Shane's thigh.

The purple that bloomed beneath his lips was mesmerizing. He ran his finger over the marks as he went, leaving a trail of them, Shane moaning and wriggling and tugging on his hair.

“Baby.” He moaned out. “You like leaving marks?”

Ilya hummed his response, moving back to the other leg to sink his teeth in harshly.

“You want everyone to see, don't you? Fuck.”

He did. He wanted to lay claim to Shane. For everyone to see his neck and Shane's thighs and know that he was the one who had pretty, perfect Shane worked up and flushed. Maybe it could serve as a reminder to himself, considering he still couldn't fucking believe it. He picked his head up to look at Shane again, mouth hanging open dumbly as he stared. He seriously couldn't understand how it was possible that Shane was single. Maybe it was because there was no one that could possibly be good enough for him.

Shane's hand came to hold his jaw. “God, you're fucking hot. Tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want…please sit on my face. Fuck.” His stomach flipped at the sheer thought of it. It flipped again when he saw the look in Shane's eyes.

“Get up here.”

Ilya scrambled up clumsily, meeting Shane in a filthy kiss before strong hands were pushing at his chest and laying him flat on the bed. It suddenly felt like the universe was redeeming itself for every horrible, unfair thing that ever happened in Ilya's life as Shane Hollander's perfect fucking ass lowered directly onto his face.

His hands moved to grip Shane's hips, a happy sigh escaping his mouth as his tongue pressed to the sweet warmth. The groan that tore out from Shane above him made him moan in response.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been hard so many times in a day before, and his cock was aching between his legs. Ilya's hands helped to guide Shane's hips as he grinded down against his tongue, his moans loud and broken.

“Holy shit, baby. Fuck, you're so hard right now. You could probably- fuck-” He groaned, hands digging into Ilya's abdomen. “Probably fucking come just from this, couldn't you?”

Ilya agreed in the form of moaning wildly, the sound muffled. Shane reached down to wrap a hand around him, dragging the wetness down from the tip as he went. He felt his hips buck up into the touch, muscles trembling. His fingers dug hard into Shane's hips as he moaned into him. This was possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life. He was already dangerously fucking close, with the sounds Shane was making and feeling of his big hand around him.

His own hand gave a few urgent warning taps to the side of Shane's thigh, and he mercifully pulled his hand away. He grinded down against Ilya's tongue a few more times, then clambered off of him and laid at his side.

Ilya's whole mouth was wet, drool sliding down his chin as Shane looked at him like he hung the fucking moon. He moved closer, the air between them hot and electric.

“Ilya?” Shane's eyes met his, and he was so close and so beautiful that Ilya's throat got stuck around a swallow.

“Yes?”

“It's never felt like this before for me, either.”

His breathing faltered for a moment before their mouths came together, his hand on the back of Shane's head to press him impossibly closer.

Had he ever wanted anything more in his entire life? He felt like his chest was cracked open, heart bursting from his body. When Shane pulled back, Ilya's hand found his face, his fingers stroking down the bridge of his perfect, freckled nose. “My Shane.” He whispered.

Shane nodded, eyes soft and bright. He ran his hands down Ilya's chest slowly. “Please fuck me.”

It took every bit of restraint that he possessed to not say please let me have you like this forever. Instead, he nestled himself against Shane, their bodies spooned together, and fingered him open carefully as he laid kisses over his neck and shoulder.

And once Shane was panting, whispering that he was ready, Ilya fucked into him as slowly and attentively as he could, despite every sensation still being incredibly overwhelming. Shane arched back into him, their bodies pressed close and their moans tangled together. It didn't feel like sex. It felt like a closeness that Ilya had never known. It felt like being chosen.

They both finished in short succession, Shane's thighs trembling and their names on each other's lips, and Ilya knew he could never be the same again.

He stayed wrapped around Shane, the ache in his chest searing hot and unbearable. There was so much to say, and he had no fucking idea how to say any of it. But he was going to try. For Shane. He feared he would maybe do anything for Shane.

“Shane?”

“Yes, baby?” Shane's voice came out feather light.

“You make me happy. I just…I want you to know this. You always have. When I am with you, everything feels so…” He took a beat, trying to break through the horrible vulnerability of it all. “Right.”

Shane's hand found his and laced their fingers. “It does, doesn't it?” He squeezed Ilya's hand gently. “I'm always happy when I'm with you. I'm happy when you're happy. Because you deserve it, Ilya.”

He was not going to cry. He wasn't. Ilya pressed his nose into Shane's hair and inhaled him like he needed to commit him memory. And maybe he did. Maybe he needed to keep this moment locked in his chest, right next to the heart that Shane had so clearly stolen.

“You are perfect.” He whispered into Shane, and he didn't dare move an inch. He never wanted to fucking move again. He fell asleep with their hands still clasped and his face pressed into the warmth of Shane's neck.

Seeing the sunrise over the ocean through the glass doors of the hotel room should have been beautiful and serene. Instead, it was a glaringly bright reminder that this weekend was nearing its end. A white hot void coming to swallow him whole.

His only solace was Shane; a beautiful double-edged sword of everything he wanted and everything he had to leave behind. He could feel fingers scratching through the hair beneath his navel. Plush lips pressing sleepily into the crook of his armpit.

How could you let this happen, Ilya? How did horny curiosity turn into this? Shane was how. Shane Hottlander, with his sexy confidence and his beautiful kindness. He never stood a fucking chance.

It was another hour or so before they were both fully awake; still only managing just a few hours sleep. Ilya whined pathetically when Shane finally rolled out of the bed, reaching his hands to grab toward him. Shane simply grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him along to the bathroom.

In the shower, he made sure to index every single one of Shane's features. The jut of his hipbones. The hard lines of his abs. The beautiful curve of his ass. The perfect little dimples that sat just above it. Every piece of him that he never felt a reason to look at before, that he now couldn't tear his eyes away from.

Shane finally realized that Ilya's eyes hadn't left him all morning as they both were getting dressed, Shane pulling yet another pair of tiny shorts.

“You're staring.” He grinned.

“Yes.”

Shane elbowed him. “Why?”

“Because today I go back to Russia, and there is no Shane in Russia. Must look while I have the chance.” Ilya could embarrassingly feel the sting of tears starting to form, but he quickly willed them away.

A sympathetic, sad sort of look fell over Shane's face that let Ilya know he wasn't hiding his own emotions as well as he thought he was. He cupped Ilya's cheek, palm warm against his skin.

“Are you okay?”

He looked down. “I am trying to be. I think I just do not want to go home. I will miss this.” He gestured around, then paused for a beat. “And miss you.”

“Baby.” Shane pouted, and he was so fucking cute, and everything was so fucking unfair. “Let's not think about that right now, okay? We still have some time. I don't want you to be sad.”

Ilya pressed their foreheads together and nodded. He felt so stupid and fragile but couldn't figure out how to make it stop.

Shane kissed him sweetly, then stepped back and gestured down at his own lower half. Ilya realized now that the slew of dark purple marks all over Shane's thighs were clearly visible in his shorts. “You like?”

He felt himself smile, and it made Shane smile, too. “I like.”

“I knew you would. Bad boy.”

Ilya's smile curved into a smirk. “I like to be bad with you, Shane Hottlander.”

“Mm. I know you do. But don't start that right now, because I promised Svetlana we would show up for brunch.”

Ilya groaned. “Yes, captain.”

Shane shook his head with a fond smile and patted his cheek, and Ilya promised himself he would swallow down the ache in his chest for as long as he could.

“Ilya Rozanov, you fucking dog!”

Cliff Marlow yelling at full volume was the first thing Ilya heard when they walked into the small restaurant. Not only were his eyes on Shane's legs, but he was actually pointing, and Shane was jostling Ilya's shoulders from behind him as he grinned. The gesture seemed oddly bro-ish, considering the reason for all the attention being pointed squarely on them was that Ilya had sucked and bitten Shane's thighs only hours ago.

Ilya shot Cliff a wink, then noticed Svetlana beckoning him to a small table nestled in the corner.

“Queen is summoning me.” He grabbed Shane's hand and gave it a quick squeeze before parting ways to walk toward Svetlana, who was watching him with a hint of a smile.

She pushed an espresso across the table to him when he sat, resting her chin in her hand. “So. Can we talk about it now?”

He sighed. “Yes, Sveta.”

“Good. Because I just want to start by saying, fucking finally. I cannot believe you two finally figured this out. Truly the best wedding gift ever.”

Ilya's whole face twisted. “What? What are you talking about?”

She patted his forearm, placating. “I'm talking about you morons both having big, embarrassing crushes on each other since you were 19 years old, but never connecting the fucking dots.”

He gaped at her. “Sveta. What are you- I literally thought I was straight until like 2 fucking days ago?”

“Oh, I know you did. You may have just figured it out. But I figured it out when we were 15.”

Ilya opened his mouth to speak, but only an incredulous scoff came out. Her hand gripped his forearm now as she leaned closer.

“Ilyusha, listen to me. It's not a bad thing. Okay? I just know you very well. And I've done a lot of…observing. And I really am glad you were finally able to see it for yourself.”

He crossed his arms. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I do. Especially when it comes to how you are with Shane. I know you always thought you were just joking around, but. Please. I mean, come on.”

“I was joking around!” He threw his hands up.

“Ilyusha.”

“Sveta.”

She groaned. “Okay. Shall I list the ways? You literally never left the boy alone. Half the time you came to my place, you were looking for him and not me. Maybe more than half. Whenever I invited you to a party, your first question was always ‘is Shane going?’ Every single time you got remotely tipsy, you would find a way to coax Shane over to you so you could get your hands on him. On more than one occasion when you were wasted, you told me that you would fuck Shane if he asked you to. Just completely unprompted. And don't even get me started on the jealous crash out you had when he got a boyfriend.”

His cheeks were blazing. “Okay. I did not have a jealous crash out. I just didn't like the guy. You are being dramatic.”

“Ilya. It only took you meeting him one time before you went on a half hour long tirade to me about how much of a loser he was and that you wished you knew someone who could put a curse on him.” She crossed her arms now, mirroring him.

Okay. So maybe she had a point. Maybe the way he was with Shane had never been normal friend behavior. I'm a fucking idiot. He dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck. Sveta, how did I not know?”

“Because of where we come from. Who your family is. The sport you played in. Everything around you conditioned you to believe that straight was the only possibility. You couldn't see it, because you literally did not think it was possible for you.”

He stilled at that, clutching the little espresso mug in his hand. Ilya never had a problem with anyone around him being queer, despite the environment he grew up in. He always felt that people should be able to live as their authentic selves. But he also never thought any of that could apply to him. There was no world in which it was possible that he was queer. That was something that belonged to other people. Not to him.

Only, it did belong to him. Somehow, the veil had dropped and reality had overtaken every part of his brain that told him that isn't for you. The pieces started to click into place. This isn't just who you are. It's who you've always been. You just couldn't let yourself believe it.

“I think…maybe seeing Shane again just fucking…triggered something inside me.”

“You awoke like a sleeper agent.” She laughed, kicking him playfully under the table. “I think your body couldn't take it anymore.”

“Apparently not. God. I really couldn't even remotely control it, Sveta. I just-”

“I noticed.” She smirked, sipping her own drink. “I'm glad you both finally jumped on each other. The years of sexual tension were becoming unbearable.”

“Okay, this brings me to my next question. You said Shane always had a crush on me? The whole time?” He remembered what Shane said about listening to Ilya through the wall. It was maybe one of the hottest things he'd ever heard, but he didn't think it amounted to Shane having some sort of years-long crush on him. Maybe that Shane just found him to be hot and wondered what it would be like.

“The fact that you have no idea just really makes me have no faith in men as a species.” She shook her head. “Did you know that when Shane came out to me, I asked him what his type was. And without missing a beat, he literally just said your name. Point blank.”

Ilya cocked his head, a slow, satisfied smirk spreading over his face.

“He was always into you. He just thought you were straight, so he tried to get over it. He never fucking got over it. Not even a little.”

“Please. Go on.” Ilya's smirk stayed as he leaned in closer.

“He literally would find any excuse to bring you up. Where is Ilya today? What is he doing? Remember that time that Ilya did literally anything? Is Ilya coming over? Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. Fucking exhausting. And you know whenever he caught wind that you were bringing a girl to a party, he would dress all slutty on purpose to get your attention. Which always worked. Without fail. I mean, you two were honestly unbelievable.” She shook her head.

As if his senses had been tingling, Shane appeared beside their table. “You guys look like you're up to something over here.”

“Oh, I was just telling Ilya about how obsessed you were with him, and about the time I asked you what your type was, and you just looked at me and said Ilya.” Svetlana grinned.

Shane's cheeks immediately went red. “Svetlana!” He hissed, then put his hands over his face. “God, that's embarrassing.”

“Oh please. As if you have a reason to be embarrassed. You both are pathetic for each other.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Thank god you finally fucked about it. By the way, walking around with 17 thigh hickeys just out and on display is crazy work.”

That got Shane to laugh, his hand moving from his face to ruffle Ilya's hair. “He was sad and I knew it would cheer him up if I showed off his hard work.”

“Oh. It was hard all right.” Ilya smirked.

“Okay. Not at brunch, please. Save that for later.” Svetlana swatted him.

Later. They didn't have later. He knocked back his espresso like it was a shot of vodka, trying to force down the lump in his throat.

He so badly wanted to tell Svetlana what was going on in his mind. That Shane kept calling him baby and he was fucking addicted to it and everything else that he did. That he was sick over the idea of just walking away from this. That this weekend changed fucking everything for him and he had no idea what he was supposed to do now.

But this was her wedding weekend. She was about to jet off to Sicily on her honeymoon and she didn't need to be worried about this stupid crisis he'd gotten himself into. So he forced a smile and ordered pancakes that he couldn't even stomach and pretended that he didn't feel like his world was about to crash down around him.

From the balcony, Ilya could hear the crashing waves and feel the constant breeze cooling his sun warmed skin. The view from here was perfect. An unobstructed image that stretched on so far he couldn't see the end of it. He realized he hadn't taken the time to really enjoy it, though he knew that was because he had been thoroughly occupied.

Shane had stayed back with his team once brunch was finished. It served as a sobering reminder that Shane had an entire life to go back to where he was a fucking hockey superstar, and Ilya would be the last thing that he was worried about. So now he was sulking as he watched the steady roll of the waves, wishing he could just lay down at the shore and let them carry him away. God, Ilya, you are dramatic.

The sound of the balcony door sliding open made him turn his head slightly to see Shane looking back at him, his smile dropping as he took Ilya in.

“You're sad.” He observed.

Ilya pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Shane. I am sad. We went over this.”

“Don't get like that with me.” Shane's voice changed to something stern; the way he spoke when he was being a captain. Ilya found himself immediately dropping his hand from his face and looking down.

Shane's two fingers found their way under Ilya's chin and firmly tilted his head back up. “And don’t look away from me, either.”

Well god damn. Ilya found himself at the very fucked up intersection of being sad, frustrated, and slightly turned on.

“Sorry.” He muttered softly, and Shane's hand moved to pet the back of his head.

“I know.” He patted Ilya's jaw. “Sit.”

Ilya sat down immediately, blinking up at Shane when he realized the other man was looking at him with an amused smile. “What?”

“The guys were just giving me shit saying how I have you like a dog on a leash.” Shane's smile never faltered as he lowered himself to straddle Ilya in the chair. “Guess they were right.”

“You just like being bossy.”

“Maybe I do.” Shane leaned into him as Ilya's hands came to rest around his hips. “And maybe I also like good boys who listen to me.”

Fuck, how did he keep walking into these scenarios? Why was Shane so fucking good at this? “Shane. Please. You cannot just- say that.”

“Why not?” Shane feigned innocence. “You always had a reputation for being this big Russian bad boy. But look how sweet you are. Been so good for me all weekend.”

He tilted his head back with a soft groan as Shane kissed along his neck, the sensation shooting sparks up his spine. “Fuck, Shane. What have you done to me?”

Shane laughed at that, kissing back up toward his jaw. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, how- how are you doing this? Where does this version of Shane come from? You are- I do not even know what to fucking say. I think you could maybe get me to do anything you asked. How do you do this?”

Shane kissed him once, then twice, smiling against his lips. “I think I just know what I want when I want it. And I'll do what it takes.”

The fluttering in Ilya's chest started back up again. You can have me, Shane. However you want me. Please.

He pushed his tongue into Shane's mouth and was greeted by a satisfied moan that made his back bow. The kiss was slow; tongues sliding deep and languid as they both unconsciously started to rock their hips where their bodies were joined together.

Ilya pushed his hands up the back of Shane's shirt, moaning into Shane's mouth at the feeling of soft, warm skin. There wasn't enough time. They needed more fucking time. He wondered if Shane would have let him fuck him right here on the balcony in broad daylight. He knew he would. The thought mixed with the friction of Shane in his lap nearly made him finish in his jeans.

Both of their mouths were swollen and glistening by the time they pulled apart. Shane pressed a kiss to his cheek as he stood, smoothing down his shirt. “I feel like we were about to break the chair.”

“Mm. Incidentals are on your card, yes? I think Mr. Hockey Superstar can afford chair.”

“Shut up.” Shane flashed him a smile over his shoulder, and the ache in his chest returned with full force. The clock was ticking down to its final minutes, and Ilya felt like he might be sick.

He stood, and felt the way his whole body slumped under the weight of his misery. He had allowed himself to live in this fantasy for too long, and now he had to pay for it.

“Ilya.”

Shane's voice came as he raked his hand through his hair, jaw clenched hard. He didn't respond.

“Hey. What's going on?” Shane put a hand on his shoulder, but Ilya only shook his head. If he spoke, he was going to cry, and he didn't want that to be Shane's last impression of him.

“Ilya. I just need you to talk to me, okay? Tell me what you're thinking.”

The concern in Shane's voice tugged at his heart. Don't shut him out, Ilya. He doesn't deserve that. You need to be brave.

It was now or never, he knew.

He took a deep breath to steel himself, eyes connecting with Shane's. “I am thinking that we are both about to go back to our own lives and I really do not fucking want to go back to mine. Because I will not be able to move on from this and just be normal about it. And I am afraid that you will move on and forget any of this ever happened. And I do not want that, Shane. Okay? I know am fucking pathetic but I don't." The tears were burning his eyes, threatening to spill out, and now he really just wanted to disappear into the sea. He was making a fool of himself.

Shane took Ilya's face in both his hands. “Ilya. Baby. I'm not going to forget anything. Okay? I promise you. And you aren't pathetic.”

“I am. I am fucking pathetic. And I'm going to fucking miss you. I want you, Shane. I want this. And I feel so fucking stupid because I know how impossible it is. I don't even…fuck, Shane. I don't even know when I will see you again.” His voice broke slightly on the last word. A tear slipped out, and was immediately caught by the brush of Shane's thumb.

“You can't think about it that way.” Shane's voice was barely above a whisper.

“But this is the truth, Shane. I am about to go home and I do not know when I will be able to come back here. And I just want-”

He wanted to get down on his knees and beg. But for what, exactly? For Shane to agree to some kind of long distance relationship where they would literally never get to see each other? For Shane to wait for him indefinitely on the other side of the world? It would be incredibly selfish to ask those things of him. Selfish and stupid.

The bottom line was that Ilya wasn't even good enough for Shane, anyway. No matter how much Shane said he liked Ilya, too. It would only be a matter of time before Shane came to his senses. He tried to convince himself that maybe his leaving was for the best, but he just couldn't. He couldn't.

“What do you want?” Shane stroked away the tears that soaked Ilya's cheeks, eyes focused on his.

“I just want you.” It came out almost like a whimper. But just when he was about to be embarrassed over his own desperation, he saw the tears pooling in Shane's glassy doe eyes.

The sight made his stomach turn to lead. “Shane-”

Shane's tears spilled over, splashing down onto his freckled cheeks, and Ilya had to swallow back a sob.

“Shane, please don't cry.” He managed to choke out, his hands now grasping Shane's face.

“I just…I don't like seeing you so sad.”

“I'm sorry.” The words burst out of him immediately; his first instinct always being to fix. “I will stop, I'm sorry.”

“No.” Shane laid his head on Ilya's shoulder, letting Ilya wrap him up tightly in his arms. “Don't apologize. I…fuck. I don't want you to go.” He breathed out, clutching the back of Ilya's shirt. “I wish you could just come back to Boston. I wish there was a way.”

The sound of Shane sniffling softly into his sleeve made his chest break open and his heart spill out into a pathetic puddle on the floor. “I do too.”

He clung to Shane, squeezing him in a way that was probably painful, but Shane didn't seem to mind.

They stayed that way for a while; holding each other like their bodies were molded together until they both eventually calmed down enough to stop crying. Shane laced their fingers and walked them back into the room, laughing a bit when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

“God, we're a mess.” He rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Mm yes, maybe just a little.” Ilya gave him a smile that quickly fell as soon as he looked at the time on his phone. He stared at the screen, as if he could somehow will time to stop.

“Come here.” Shane gently took the phone from his hand and laid it face down on the desk. He pushed at Ilya's chest with both hands, backing him toward the bed until he was laid down on it with Shane crawling on top of him.

“I promise you I'm not just going to disappear. Okay? I'm not gonna forget about you or about this. I meant it when I said it's never felt like this for me before, either.”

Ilya let his breathing slow. Let Shane's words wash over him. Tilted his chin up and let his lips meet Shane's. He wanted to believe every word Shane said. He so badly wanted it to be true, no matter how loud the voice was in his head that told him it wasn't.

“I wish I knew how to thank you. For all of this.” Ilya stared up at him, drinking in every single freckle and every fleck of amber in his eyes.

“You don't need to thank me.”

“But I do. You taught me many things about myself this weekend.”

Shane smirked, moving his lips to Ilya's ear in the way that drove him absolutely wild. “Was I a good teacher?”

Ilya shivered a bit, eyes falling shut. “You are a good everything, Shane. Never in life have I cried during sex. I think probably you have ruined me for anyone else.”

It was more honest than he'd intended to be, but fuck it.

“Ah. So you are my slut now.”

“Fuck, Shane.” He wriggled slightly beneath him. “Stop saying things like this. You make me fucking crazy.”

“Mm. I guess I should stop. Don't want you to be hard when you go through TSA, they'll think you're smuggling a weapon.” Shane's smirk grew, and Ilya wrapped his legs around Shane's waist and flipped them over so he was on top, both of them going breathless with laughter.

Shane looked so perfect beneath him; eyes crinkled and cheeks pink. Ilya couldn't help but to lay kisses all over his face. For a moment, he let himself forget about Russia. About reality. About anything that wasn't Shane.

“God. I'm really gonna fucking miss you.” Shane laced his hand through the back of Ilya's hair.

Ilya took a shaky breath. “Just promise you won't-”

Fall in love with someone else? Find a man who is so much less complicated than I am and can fuck you without shaking like a leaf? Realize that I'm not worthy of you at all?

“Promise you won't forget.” He settled on a much easier ask.

“I promise.” Shane's lips came to his again, and he kissed Shane like it would be the last time, because maybe it was.

With tongue and lips and teeth he tried his best to convey the message. I will never forget this. I will never find anyone that makes me feel like you do. I will never be the same again.

Shoving his belongings into his suitcase felt like preparing to go to war. It was somber and heavy and he promised himself he wasn't going to cry again. He really wasn't.

But when he gripped the handle of the suitcase and stood near the door, Shane wrapped around him again, and he could feel the dam burst. Shane kissed his lips, his jaw, the bruise on his throat. He kissed a tear where it sat on Ilya's cheek.

“And you better fucking text me, Rozanov.” Shane poked him in the chest, and Ilya gave him a wobbly smile.

“I will text you and call you so much, you will be sick of me.”

“Never.” Shane pushed a curl from his forehead, his eyes softening. “Hey. It's gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay.” Ilya whispered back, and he caught Shane's lips in one more kiss, their mouths lingering together for a few ragged breaths.

He couldn't bring himself to glance over his shoulder again before the door shut behind him.

Unfortunately, flying to the other side of the world meant Ilya had far too much time to sit in his own silence and ruminate.

He'd entered Maine as a straight fuckboy who was horribly adverse to settling down, and left as a bisexual loverboy who wanted exclusivity so immensely that it made his whole body ache with tension.

If there hadn't been witnesses to the whole ordeal, Ilya may have convinced himself that Shane was a figment of his imagination. There was certainly no way the man could be real. Perfect, perfect Shane.

The voice in his head had only grown louder since he had to pry himself out of Shane's arms. He'll forget you. He doesn't need you. He deserves someone better.

Ilya sat back in his seat and closed his eyes and tried to will every thought away. To empty his mind. But all his mind wanted to do was conjure up every single thing that Ilya knew would remind him of his Shane until the end of time.

The sharp tang of lime and the sweet burn of rum. The steady breeze off the water and the salt air shaping his curls. The gold of a sunbeam and the pattern of stars stretched across the sky.

Sweet words whispered directly into his skin. Baby. I promise. It's never felt like this before for me, either. Because you're you.

He shoved his hand into his pocket, relieved by the feeling of plastic against his palm. The key card to their room. His heart thudded hard in his chest as he pulled it out, feeling the weight of it in his hand. A tangible reminder. It was all real. He didn't know if that made it better or worse.

But when he turned the card over in his hand, everything stopped, save for his heart leaping into his throat.

A note was scrawled messily onto the back in black sharpie.

Everything will be okay
🖤 Shane Hottlander

Ilya clutched the card to his chest and huffed out something between a laugh and a sob.

He very badly wanted to believe the words were true.

Chapter End Notes

when i lure you all into my trap using sexual tension and smut, only to serve you a big helping of sadness and feelings and self doubt 😔 srry about that (or am i) but I hope you still enjoyed 🫶

i can't believe next chapter will be the last, but I'm very excited to bring it to you all 💕

thank u as always for all the love you've shown for this fic so far 💖

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

....yeah so this is NOT the last chapter oops 😭

What struck Ilya most was how much he missed the glaring, humid heat of the beach as he propped his window open to let in the cool breeze of the dusky Moscow evening.

The memory of the heat from the sun and the heat of Shane pressed blissfully against him morphed together in his mind, and made him crave the warmth like some kind of strange, cold-blooded reptile. He ran his finger along the edge of the keycard where it lay sentry on the windowsill and took a deep breath.

It had been weeks now since he'd last seen Shane. Long, agonizing weeks where he wouldn't admit to anyone that he'd cried himself to sleep more often than not. Everything about that weekend had seized hold of his heart and cracked it wide open and he hadn't been able to contain its contents since.

It left him feeling vulnerable, sensitive, and unbearably wistful. The only thing he looked forward to anymore were his phone calls with Shane. When he could close his eyes and listen to that voice and pretend he was somewhere far from here with pretty, perfect Shane whispering into his skin.

The buzz of his phone on the desk nearly made his heart fall out of his ass as he scrambled embarrassingly fast to snatch it up. He hated himself for the way his stomach sank when he realized it was Svetlana. Some fucking friend he was.

“Have you returned from your romance novel?” Ilya said by way of greeting as he perched himself on the edge of his bed.

“My honeymoon was amazing, Ilyusha, thank you so much for asking.”

He knew if she were here right now that he probably would have gotten a swift smack to the back of the head. The thought brought a hint of a smile to his face.

Ilya laid back on his bed and let Svetlana debrief him on her very cinematic sounding Italian getaway, trying not to let his imagination wander away to what Shane would look like basking beneath the Mediterranean sun.

She promised him an entire bag filled with expensive gifts she'd picked up along the way, and he had to laugh, eyes pointed at the ceiling.

“You spoil me.”

“I know. You deserve it. Sometimes. Don't tell Shane, but I got you more stuff than him.”

“Have you seen him yet?” Ilya popped the string of his sleeveless hoodie into his mouth, trying to act normal about any mention of Shane.

“I was just over there, actually. He said you guys have been talking a lot.”

“Do you think he really likes me?” Ilya blurted the question out before he could stop it, then immediately pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

“What? Of course he likes you. He-”

“No. I mean…fuck. Sveta, if he is fucking other people…no. Nevermind. I do not want to know. Forget I asked. Please. Talk about something else.” He clenched his jaw hard.

“Ilyusha. Are you okay?”

“I don't fucking know.” And that was the truth. “I think I am freaking out.”

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I don't know how to do this, Sveta. I…I like him too much and I want it too much and I don't know what to do.” He knew he must sound absolutely miserable. And he was.

“Well. Have you two…I don't know…talked about it? About what you are? What you want?”

“What am I supposed to say, Sveta? Shane, please wait for my pathetic ass even though you could literally have any man you wanted? You would have me make a fool of myself like that?”

“Oh my god, you two will seriously be the fucking death of me.” Svetlana grumbled. “How is it that you both are so fucking dense? I didn't successfully pull off the whole fake ‘overbooked hotel’ thing for you two to act like you aren't obsessed with each other.”

“What- Svetlana. Oh my god. You-”

“Well someone had to intervene! I mean my god, Ilya. I had to endure my entire college experience with you boys. You have no idea what that was like. Just clueless, I tell you.” She huffed. “And my plan helped, did it not?”

Ilya ran a hand down his face. He wondered if Shane knew about Svetlana’s meddling. At her own wedding, no less. She really must have been at her wit's end, which made him start to truly ponder what he and Shane must have looked like to everyone else. “You know, you are unbelievable.”

“And you are welcome.”

A sudden familiarity struck him at those words. “Oh my god. The body shot?” He gaped, letting out a strangled scoff. She did it on purpose, that-

“Look, the weekend wasn't that long. There was no time to waste.”

He could practically hear the satisfied smirk on her face.

“You made me have a fucking bisexual crisis in front of everyone!” He sputtered, cheeks going warm at the memory. Fuck, it was the hottest and most confusing thing he'd ever experienced. He could not believe her. “You are so evil.”

Svetlana cackled loudly on the other end. “You are so welcome, my sweet Ilyusha. Now please go figure your shit out.”

“Sveta-”

“Stop thinking he doesn't want you. Just talk to him, Ilya. And don't worry. I had a very similar conversation with him today.”

Ilya swallowed. “You did?”

“I did. I won't tell you what was said, except that I told him you would without a doubt wear a fucking collar with his name on it because you're so down bad.”

The thought made heat spread across his cheeks again, and low in his belly all at once. “Fuck off, Sveta.”

“I will, but only because I have shit to do. Talk to him.” She urged sternly. “Goodbye, Ilyusha.”

The call disconnected before he could say anything else, and it left his head spinning. I had a very similar conversation with him today. The words played on a loop in his mind as he stared at Shane's handwriting on the keycard. Everything will be okay.

He had been completely lost in thought when his phone started to buzz again, and he was half expecting it to be Svetlana calling him back to scold him again, until he saw Shane's name at the top of the screen. His stomach flipped a few times before he could answer.

“Hello, Shane Hottlander.”

“Hi.” Shane breathed out, and it immediately flooded Ilya's senses with calm. “How was work?”

“Eh. Was work. Not as fun as teaching you proper way to bench.”

“You fucking wish.” Shane laughed, and god, Ilya would do anything to swallow the sound straight from his mouth.

Ilya hummed, a smile stuck on his face.

“And…how's everything at home?”

Ilya sighed deeply as the smile immediately fell. “Is…mm. I do not know. Not so good. I do not really want to talk about it.”

Not so good was definitely an understatement. His father was dying, his brother was completely unhinged, and Ilya felt like he was tearing himself to pieces trying to hold it all together.

“That's okay. We don't have to. Just…I'm here. If you do. Okay?”

“Okay, lyubimyy.” Ilya's voice had softened into almost a whisper now.

“Ilya? You know I meant what I wrote, right? On the keycard.”

Ilya felt his breath hitch softly at the mention of it.

“It will be okay. We'll be okay. I know it's hard, but…I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I want this.”

“Hollander-” He choked out, but Shane immediately cut him off.

“Don't. Don't argue with me, Ilya.” His voice was firm, and Ilya felt himself melt into submission so quickly that he should probably be embarrassed.

“Okay. Sorry. I'm sorry. I just…” Ilya exhaled.

“I know. But I'm serious, Ilya. This is what I want. It's worth waiting for. You're worth waiting for.”

His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Was Shane even real? He found himself wondering that all the fucking time. “But…what if this is for long time, Shane? What if you get tired of waiting?”

“Baby. I won't. Okay?”

Ilya tried his hardest to swallow back all of his doubts, but they wouldn't go down. “What if you find someone better?”

“I told you before not to ask me stupid questions.”

“But Shane-”

“Listen to me, Ilya. I promise you. Do you trust me?”

He closed his eyes, drinking in the sound of Shane's voice. “Da.”

“Good boy.”

“Shane.” Ilya whined, and he swore he felt his dick twitch, and Jesus Christ he really would wear a fucking collar for Shane. The thought made his dick twitch again.

“What? You are. My good boy.” Shane cooed.

“Fuck.” Ilya exhaled, and yes, he was getting hard. Shane was telling him he would wait for him and he was calling him his good boy and Ilya was going to have to muffle himself with his pillow.

“You'll keep being good for me, right? No slutting around Moscow.”

“I already tell you. You have ruined me for anyone else.” He gritted out, and desperately tried to stop his hand from migrating down to his shorts.

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“Mm. Was so good, Shane. Fuck-” He turned over onto his stomach and drew in a shaky breath as he rolled his hips once against the mattress. How Shane had the ability to do this to him every single time, he would never fucking know. “You feel so good. Make me fucking crazy.”

“Fuck, I bet you're already fucking hard, aren't you?”

“Yes.” He exhaled, mouth hanging open.

“Mm. I wish I was there to see it. You're so fucking big. Felt so good when you laid there like a good boy for me and let me fuck myself on it.”

Something between a moan and a whimper pulled deep from his gut as he rolled his hips again. He had to bite down hard on his lip, scared of what other insane noises would slip out, because Shane was going to make him lose his entire mind. “Fuck, Shane.”

“You're humping the bed right now, aren't you? My poor baby.”

“Need you.” Ilya moaned out. “God, I fucking- fucking need you, Shane.”

“I know, sweet boy. It's okay. Keep going. You sound so fucking hot.”

Ilya could hear rustling around on the other end. “Fuck. Are you touching yourself?”

“Mm. Wish it was your pretty mouth.” Shane moaned softly, and Ilya felt himself leak into the front of his shorts.

The friction was driving him crazy as he kept rolling his hips, his pulse jumping. “Is…is not enough. Wish you were here. Fuck.”

“I do, too. But you can do it. I know you can.”

His moans turned to whines as he gripped the bed with one hand, trying desperately to get more leverage. He clutched the phone with his other hand, listening to Shane's breathy moans that had him teetering on the edge.

“Come on, baby. Come for me. I wanna hear it.” Shane's voice had turned rough, and Ilya had to shove the edge of the blanket into his mouth.

He came with a long, muffled groan, the hot stickiness filling the front of his shorts.

“Fuck, Ilya-” Shane whined, and the sound of him coming had Ilya involuntarily rolling his hips a few more times, gasping at the over sensitivity.

They both took a few moments to catch their breath, Ilya letting the breeze that drifted through the window cool his sweat-dampened skin.

“I miss you.” He eventually said, clutching his pillow close to him.

“I miss you too, baby.”

“Shane? Do you really mean it? That you'll wait?” Ilya swallowed.

“Of course I mean it. I know it isn't easy, but I don't care about easy. I care about you.”

Ilya had to bite back an embarrassing whimper, and not the sex kind. Shane had his whole fucking heart, and it was scary and beautiful and he didn't know how to react other than to squeeze the pillow as hard as he could and pretend it was Shane in his arms. It felt oddly romantic, even with his cum drying on his belly.

“Okay.” He whispered, staring out at the inky night.

“And you'll wait for me?”

“Shane. I am pathetic mess for you. You realize this, yes?”

Shane laughed softly. “Just making sure.”

“You are what makes me happy. Only thing, maybe.” It was too honest, but his brain was hazy with everything he felt for Shane.

“You make me happy too. Best part of my day.”

He could hear the smile in Shane's voice, and nothing had ever felt so good and hurt so badly at the same time.

“My Shane.” He whispered quietly into the dark.

Everything will be okay, he repeated to himself, and tried to imagine his beautiful Shane waiting for him on the other side of the world.

The mix of dread and guilt that gripped Ilya by the gut once Shane's season started left him feeling completely hollowed out.

He had known, realistically, that they wouldn't be able to talk as much. But that did nothing to make the distance between them feel any less imposing. To make matters worse, it was nearly impossible to stream the games as they happened, never mind the time difference.

Which was how he found himself awake at nearly 2 in the morning, just to be able to text Shane before his game.

Ilya

good luck tonight ❤️

Shane

Thank you baby :)

Ilya

text me when you are done?

Shane

Always ❤️

He clutched his phone to chest for a moment, closing his eyes to meditate the tears away. You're such a fucking baby, Ilya. He knew he was. He'd never been so emotional in his life, and he hated it, but life was fucking hard.

The weeks without Shane had turned to months now, and it was so hard to convince himself that this was going to work out. That Shane would keep waiting, and that one day he would be in Boston, and his life wouldn't be so fucking grim.

Ilya knew sleep wasn't likely to come anytime soon, so he dragged himself down to the kitchen, jumping slightly when he heard the jingle of keys at the front door. He whipped his head around, brows furrowed, as he watched the door swing open hard.

The sight of his brother staggering through the threshold made his jaw clench. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Guess who I ran into at the bar?” Alexei ignored his question, moving to stand in front of him.

“I don't give a shit, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway.” Ilya crossed his arms.

“Svetlana’s cousin.”

“Okay? Good for you. Now go the fuck home. Papa is sleeping and you're fucking loud.”

“Ah, no. I'm not finished yet.” Alexei took another step toward him so they were almost chest to chest. “Do you want to know what he told me he saw at the wedding?”

“No.” Ilya swallowed, and the dread he felt before tripled inside.

“He said he saw you, baby brother, fucking around with another man.” Alexei jabbed a finger into his chest.

Ilya batted his hand away. “Fucking around? So what, he's claiming he saw me having sex out in the open? I can assure you that is illegal in America.”

“You've always had such a smart fucking mouth, haven't you?” Alexei stepped closer again. “He said he saw you and a man all over each other. Dancing and grinding. Kissing his neck. You're fucking disgusting.” He spat.

“And what, you just believe everything he says?”

“This, I believe. You've always been a freak. Fucking disgrace to this family. Our mother would be so-”

Ilya had Alexei against the wall before the words could leave his mouth. “Don't you fucking dare.” He gritted out, the front of his brother's shirt clenched into his fist.

“Deny it then. Swear on her grave you didn't.”

He could feel his pulse running wild, his breathing rough and uneven. Swear on her grave. Ilya swallowed hard. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

“You are sick.” His brother spat the words like venom, shoving him back hard, both of them stumbling as Ilya still had his shirt clutched in his hand. “You are so lucky she is not alive to see this.”

Ilya didn't even remember swinging. Just felt the force of his fist smacking against Alexei's jaw. In an instant, he took a blow to his own mouth that knocked him back against the wall.

With a grunt, Ilya threw another punch that sent Alexei stumbling down to the floor.

“Fuck you.” Ilya stood over him, his body shaking with rage, then he was out the front door, his mind racing.

Ilya was suddenly 15 again; him and Alexei getting into a screaming match that turned into a fist fight that his father sat back and watched. That his father laughed at when Ilya went stumbling away, bloody and disoriented. He'd wandered out into the night until his tears and blood dried and he could barely feel his legs anymore. No one had come after him. No one had cared. That was life.

He was trying hard now to not believe his brother's words. To not be ashamed of what he was. But the blood in his mouth and the ache in his jaw had him spiraling.

Who else had Svetlana’s stupid cousin told about this? Who would Alexei tell? Was Ilya even safe here anymore?

Nothing about it was fair. Being stuck where he wasn't wanted. Being away from Shane. I can't fucking stay here. Ilya spat blood out onto the sidewalk, shoved his bruised hand into his pocket, and walked aimlessly until dawn broke and the city yawned back to life.

It happened the next day.

After Ilya had chosen not to tell Shane about the fight. After he had spent hours fantasizing about escaping Russia and running straight into Shane's arms.

His father was dead.

Whether it was divine intervention, or a cursed punishment, or simply just life as it was, Ilya couldn't say. But he could feel the sickening amalgamation of guilt and pain and relief and grief all forming into a knot inside his stomach.

He was an orphan. The thought pinned itself to his mind as he stared at the tiled hospital floor. He didn't know if he wanted to scream, or cry, or throw up, or stare into space until he passed out.

All he knew that he truly wanted was Shane, which started to make a sort of insane laughter bubble up from his throat. 4 months ago a man flirted with him, and now he was watching nurses wheel in a stretcher to take his father's body to the hospital morgue, and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to kiss Shane Hollander.

His father would surely be rolling over in his grave the moment he actually made it there. The thought made another laugh huff out, and he placed a hand firmly over his mouth, which made him wince in pain. Right. His split lip. God, his life was so fucking ridiculous sometimes.

Where the hell was Alexei, anyway? Hopefully concussed in a ditch somewhere. Stupid fuck. Surely their mother would be much more disappointed that Alexei was constantly running around coked out of his mind and ignoring his responsibilities than she would be in Ilya enjoying having his face between another man's ass cheeks.

Yes, he liked dick. But at least he was fucking here, taking care of shit like he always was. It was more than he could ever say for his brother. Exclusively liking pussy clearly didn't make you a good person, and for that, Alexei was the prime example.

The next few hours were a blur of paperwork and phone calls that Ilya had to handle on his own until his eyes were aching and his brain felt like it would leak from his ears. He was fucking exhausted, irritated, upset, and all he wanted was a strong drink and Shane's voice.

Ilya stared down at his phone. It was still early morning for Shane; way too early to be waking him up to bother him with this. If he was being honest, Ilya didn't want to bother him with it at all. Shane had enough on his plate without worrying about Ilya's bullshit. It was exactly why when he called Svetlana earlier that day that he firmly told her several times not to say anything to Shane.

He knew Shane had no game today, only practice in the afternoon. He shot off a quick text asking Shane to call him when he got back from practice, then turned his phone off and shoved it into his back pocket. He'd turn it back on later. For now, he couldn't deal with talking to anyone else.

It was only when he finally returned home again that all the feelings resurfaced and dragged him back down by his ankles into the dark depths of grief. He wasn't even sure exactly what he was grieving. Was it his father? Was it the entire life he threw away to be here?

The first few glasses of vodka helped to temper the hot panic that had seized his chest, but it wasn't what he needed.

The vodka tasted cold and anonymous against his tongue. Like it was only expanding the dark void forming in his head, instead of helping to reel it back in. He needed something else. He needed…

Ilya stumbled around the kitchen, throwing the cabinets open with a grumble. Fuck. Of course he didn't have it. Against his better judgement, he shoved his wallet into his pocket, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and tried his best to walk in a straight line for the few blocks it took to get to the liquor store.

Dusk had fallen by the time he made it back to his kitchen. Ilya turned his phone on, tossed it on the table, and grabbed himself a new glass.

The ratio of rum to coke was probably a bit much, but it was exactly what he needed in the moment. Warmth flooded his limbs. The sticky sweetness of the soda combined with the spice of the rum sat pleasantly in his mouth. And he closed his eyes and tried to think only of Shane.

When his phone started buzzing on the table, Ilya's heavy head snapped up to take in his surroundings. The house was dark. There were several empty cans of coke and a half empty bottle of rum on the table. His face was wet with tears.

He brought the phone up to his ear, and answered it in maybe Russian, maybe English. He wasn't sure.

“Ilya?”

“Shane. Moy lyubimyy. You are back from practice?” He was slurring his words, he knew he was, but his head was spinning.

“Yeah, I'm…are you okay?”

“Had only vodka. Is not…the same. Had to go find…blyat. Find rum.”

“Ilya. What…are you drunk right now? It's late there. Where are you?”

“I know. I am at home. Just…” Ilya muttered out a long string of Russian curses. “He is dead, Shane.”

“Ilya…” Shane said carefully, and Ilya dropped his forehead into his palm. Fuck. His father was dead, and Shane was far away, and he was far too drunk, and this was all fucking too much.

“Ilya, baby, I…fuck. I'm so sorry. Are you alone right now?”

He tried to form his thoughts into something coherent and also in English. “Mmm. Is why I get rum, yes? You make for me, first time. Rum and coke. Do you remember? When I drink, it always…” Ilya trailed off with a hiccup. “Always make me think of my Shane.”

“I don't…I don't think you should drink anymore, okay?” Shane's voice was quiet and dripping with concern.

Suddenly, Ilya's thoughts started to sharpen. When had his father shown half as much concern for him as Shane was at this moment? Why was Ilya here, trying to hold together a family that didn't even want him, when the person he wanted more than anything was waiting on the other side of the fucking planet?

“I throw away my whole career. My whole life. Walk away from my Shane. For man who…never fucking…” The sob wrenched its way out before Ilya could stop it.

“Now I am stuck here in…stupid fucking country. I have no one. Have to drink stupid fucking rum because I only…only want to fucking think of you.” He was full on crying now, taking gasping little breaths, chest hitching painfully. I hate this, he thought. I fucking hate this.

“You aren't stuck there, baby. I promise you. We're gonna get you here. Okay? We're gonna get you to Boston. Everything will be okay.”

“I need you.” Ilya whimpered out. He felt so fucking weak.

The next thing he heard was the muffled, wet cries coming through his phone. Fuck. The sound was deeply sobering. Shane was crying. Not just little sniffles. He was crying hard, and Ilya sat up straight.

“No…Shane, malysh. Please. Why are you crying?”

“I just wish I could be there for you, Ilya. I'm sorry you're alone. I'm so sorry.” Shane cried, and Ilya gripped the edge of the table.

“I am not alone. You are here, yes? You will switch to facetime?” He urged quickly.

Ilya heard Shane wiping roughly at his face. “Yeah, of course.”

When Ilya pulled his phone in front of him, and his screen filled with Shane's pretty face, his life no longer felt so tragic.

Shane's eyes were glassy and his cheeks were wet and his pink lips were so pouty. He could see every single freckle on the bridge of his nose. God, he was so perfect it made Ilya want to cry all over again.

“Baby. What happened to your lip?” Shane's eyes squinted in concentration.

Ilya's hand flew to cover it. “Is nothing. You look so-”

“Don't change the subject, Ilya. And don't you ever dare lie to me. Move your hand.”

Fuck, he was so bossy and so fucking hot. Ilya's hand dropped immediately. If he were actually in front of Shane, he probably would have also dropped right to his knees. Maybe he should get on ordering that collar.

“That isn't nothing. Your lip is fucking busted. Tell me what happened, baby.”

Ilya sighed. “I, ah. Got into fight. With my brother. Is really okay. He only got one hit in.”

“Today?”

God, he was good. “Yesterday.”

Shane's mouth formed a tight line. “Why didn't you tell me?”

With another deep sigh, Ilya looked down and away. “I did not want to-” He hiccuped again. Fuck, he was still drunk. “Did not want to bother you with my shit.”

“Baby. Please look at me.”

Ilya looked back into the screen at those dark, determined eyes. He knew if they were together, Shane would probably have held him by the jaw, and it made his stomach flip.

“You aren't ever bothering me. You don't have to go through any of this alone. I'm here. Okay?”

“Yes, Shane.” Ilya could feel the dopey fondness in his own voice.

“My baby. I'm so sorry you're hurting.”

“You make it better.” Ilya was sure truer words had never been spoken. He only wished there weren't oceans between them.

Maybe it was fucked up to be thinking about while his father's body had barely even gone cold, but fuck, he needed to figure out how he was going to get out of here. To Boston. To Shane. And not just on a fucking vacation. He needed to be there for real and for good. Ilya was sure he couldn't stomach having to get on a plane and leave Shane behind ever again.

“Good. And if I ever see your brother, I'll knock his fucking lights out.”

That brought a genuine smile to Ilya's face. “You do not even know if fight was his fault.”

“You think I care?” Shane scoffed.

“Ah. So I have big, sexy hockey player for protection now?”

“You're damn fucking right you do.” Shane kissed his fingertips, then touched them to the screen.

It was so sweet and tender and Ilya wished he was much more sober right now to fully appreciate it.

“No more rum, okay? Drink some water. We're gonna get this all figured out. Whatever it takes.”

“Yes, captain.” Ilya drawled with a drunken little smile, and let the seriousness in Shane's pretty face distract him from the clutches of grief.

He licked over the split in his lip, his grin widening as he imagined his brother's horror to know that what he had with Shane wasn't just kissing and grinding on a dance floor. No. It was something deep and pure and all encompassing. The kind of thing that had him fantasizing about shit like making love under the stars.

He didn't care anymore who accepted it, because he had accepted it himself, and that was a larger feat than he ever could have imagined.

The grand plan landed on Ilya's metaphorical desk the morning after his father was buried. Who the plan actually belonged to was a point of contention, with both Shane and Svetlana claiming it for their own.

Who originated the plan didn't much matter to Ilya once he had an official offer to join the training staff of the fucking Boston Bears staring back at him. He read it several times, then a few more, just to be sure he wasn't mistranslating or maybe just straight up hallucinating. His concern for his own mental wellbeing really started to spike when he realized he had also acquired a whole ass immigration lawyer and an expedited work visa application, premium processing fees and attorney fees all covered.

Ilya had allowed himself to cry for approximately 10 minutes before he called Shane.

“Do I have sugar daddy now?” Ilya had asked, still sniffling slightly.

“You have whatever the fuck you want, baby.”

And Ilya's stomach had swooped and his heart had soared and he couldn't even be daunted by the amount of paperwork he would have to figure out in English because he felt something starting to tingle in his chest.

Happiness.

Was that what it was? Was this what it felt like? He tried not to let it all feel too real while his two feet were still planted on the ground in Moscow, but he could see now the path laid out ahead of him. One carved by people that actually gave a shit about him. That wanted to see him succeed. He had spent his childhood years constantly worrying over his mother. Had spent his adult life thus far sacrificing everything he had to take care of his father. And now, for once in his life, someone actually wanted to take care of him.

But that happiness was soon fighting to keep its head above water when the flood of nervousness broke over the dam. Don't disappoint him, Ilya. He's doing this all for you. What if he realizes you aren't even worth it? You'll still be pathetic and overwhelmed every time he touches you. You still have no idea what the fuck you're doing. So good fucking luck with that.

Be brave, Ilya. He had to make that voice louder than the others. Shane is doing this all for you, because he wants this to work. You need to fucking be brave.

He would. He had to. Ilya held the plastic keycard in his palm, and traced the letters with his fingers like he did every day. Don't freak out. Not now.

Even with his fancy lawyers and premium processing, Ilya knew actually getting to America with his work visa would take several weeks, which gave him plenty of time to get his shit sorted out.

He ran his thumb over Shane's name, set the card down carefully, and started on a plan of his own.

A crisp, sharp chill bit pleasantly at Ilya's lungs as he watched the fog of his breath fill the air in front of him. The sparkle of city lights was starting to illuminate the Boston night overhead as Ilya shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pocket, fighting to keep his breathing even.

“You need to relax.” Svetlana's voice came from next to him on the sidewalk as she jabbed an elbow into him.

“I have not seen him in like 6 months, Sveta. And he always gets me fucking worked up, anyway.” He held up one hand between them before Svetlana could respond to that. “Yes, I am pathetic. I'm aware. You don't need to say it.”

Svetlana grinned. “You're so cute. Like a big, nervous puppy.”

“Please shut up. You aren't helping.” His eyes drifted up to the looming buildings that lined the busy street. “And you're sure he has no idea?”

“Not a clue.” She reassured, putting a hand on his back. “He still thinks you aren't coming for another 2 weeks.”

Ilya really hoped that was true. He so badly wanted to pull this surprise off, and it was making him feel ready to jump out of his skin. It had been almost 2 months in the making, but his move to Boston finally solidified itself the moment he stepped foot off the plane earlier that morning, weeks ahead of schedule.

He would be meeting with the Boston training staff tomorrow. The real estate agent Svetlana suggested the next day. But for now, he needed to see Shane before his heart exploded and left him in scattered pieces along the sidewalk.

“This is him.” Svetlana stopped in front of the huge glass doors of a very impressive building. “He's gonna die when he sees you - oh my god. Ilyusha. You look like you're about to pass out. You need to calm down.” She approached the buzzer, shaking her head.

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He grumbled, feeling like he was absolutely about to fucking pass out.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the interior door and shoving him through it once it clicked open. “Go. Hopefully he won't be too disappointed when it's you instead of me. And text me later, if you're still alive.”

He held both middle fingers up over his shoulders as he walked towards the elevator. Apparently, his body did not know the difference between seeing Shane again and being hunted for sport, because his heart was jack-rabbiting out of control and his stomach was doing somersaults and his hands wouldn't be still.

Please don't fucking embarrass yourself. He pushed a hand through his already windswept curls as he approached Shane's door and quickly knocked before he could do something dumb like run away.

Months. It had been months - nearly half a year - since they'd last seen each other. Since Shane rearranged every fucking molecule in his body and left him a changed man. He'd swaggered into that hotel lobby with all the brazen confidence in the world. Like the stupid, cocky playboy that he was. He could hardly even picture that version of himself anymore. Not since…

Shane. The door swung open casually, and there he was, like something straight out of Ilya's dreams. He was dressed in joggers and a tight white t-shirt and his dark hair was tousled and he looked so fucking good that Ilya forgot how to speak. Shane was staring at him in shock; mouth parted and a light blush spread beneath his freckles.

“What the fuck?” Shane reached out and pressed his palm to Ilya's cheek, as if he were testing to see if Ilya was actually real.

“Hi.” God, he sounded so shy to his own ears that he just wanted to sink into the floor.

But then Shane grabbed him hard by the front of his hoodie, yanked him through the threshold, and pressed him back against the closed door, both hands now on his face.

“Ilya, what the fuck? Are you real?”

Ilya simply moved one of Shane's hands down to his neck, overtop of where his pulse was jumping wildly, and then Shane's mouth was crashing into his own.

The surprised sound Ilya made soon dissolved into little needy little moans as Shane pressed him hard into the door, his tongue sweeping adamantly against his own. Shane's mouth was sweet and warm and tasted like ginger ale and the tear slid down Ilya's cheek before he could stop it.

Pure relief hit him like a freight train. He collapsed into Shane, pressed his face into his neck, and clung to him helplessly. He had missed him so fucking much and had been so scared that they would never have this again and he couldn't believe he was here, touching Shane and breathing him in.

“Hi. Oh my god.” Shane held onto him tight, swaying them both slightly as he scratched his fingers through the back of Ilya's curls. “Are you okay?”

Fuck, why did he have to become such a crybaby? He sniffled wetly into Shane's neck. “Da. I think so.”

“How are you here?”

“Wrapped everything up ahead of schedule and I wanted to surprise you.” He nuzzled into Shane's neck, taking in the warm, clean smell of his skin.

“Let me see you.”

Ilya stood up straight and let Shane take his face in his hands again. His thumbs brushed a few tears away as his brown eyes studied him. The way Shane looked at him made him forget how to fucking breathe.

“My baby.” He pressed their foreheads together.

“Yours.” Ilya breathed out, and god, it felt so good to say it. Yours. All yours. I'll wear your name around my neck. I'll tattoo a fucking collar on my throat if it means being yours.

His lips brushed Shane's slightly, and it was like his body suddenly remembered that Shane was right fucking there. He let out a whimper before he pressed their mouths together again, his tongue gliding into Shane's open and willing mouth.

Everything about this was somehow even better than he remembered. Shane was moaning into his mouth and tugging gently at his hair and this was the Shane fucking Hollander who just scored a hat trick 2 days ago that he couldn't stop watching replays of and none of this felt possible.

Ilya didn't even realize what he was doing until his knees hit the floor and his face was pressed between Shane's legs; one hand grabbing hard at Shane's ass as he nuzzled into his crotch.

“Oh shit.” Shane's hand came down to lace through his hair as Ilya yanked his joggers down. The thin cotton underwear was now the only layer between Ilya's face and Shane's fully hard cock as he rubbed against it, feeling himself start to drool.

Ilya pressed his open, wet mouth against him; letting it soak through the fabric as he went. He felt like some sort of feral, insatiable animal. He was moaning and whining directly into Shane's crotch, shifting restlessly where he kneeled.

“Please, Shane. I need it. Can I? Fuck. Please.”

The effect Shane had on him truly needed to be studied. Ilya had always been dominant during sex. Confident and bold and teasing. Yet here he was again, delirious and pitiful, literally on his knees and fucking begging for it.

Shane took him by the jaw and forced his eyes up. “I told you before, baby. You have whatever the fuck you want.”

It made him feel like he was Shane's spoiled good boy who could simply make puppy eyes at him and Shane would give him the world. Was he depraved for how badly that turned him on?

“Fuck, I missed you so much, Shane.” Ilya hooked his fingers into the waistband of Shane's underwear and tugged them down.

He was faintly aware that he was still extremely inexperienced in this realm, but that didn't stop his mouth from doing what it wanted to do. He licked a wet stripe up Shane's length; drooling all over his own chin as he worked up to the tip and closed his lips around it.

A muffled moan rumbled out of his mouth as he dug his fingers into Shane's ass cheek and took more into his mouth, staring up at Shane who was scratching through his curls lovingly.

“That's so good, baby. God, look at you. My sweet boy.”

He moaned again, hips bucking forward as he swallowed down more.

“Fuck, you love that, don't you?”

Ilya nodded, humming around him, closing his eyes when Shane's hand came to grip under his stretched open jaw.

I love it. I love you, Shane. I love you I love you I love you. He wanted to recite like a prayer, right here on his knees at Shane's feet. He was in love, but he would need to deal with that later, because right now, all he wanted to do was make Shane feel good. To show him just how badly he'd missed him. To worship him, because it really was that serious.

He worked Shane with his mouth as much as he knew how to, and was rewarded with the beautiful gasps and moans coming from above.

“Ilya, oh my god-” Shane started to tug on his hair. “I'm about to- fuck-”

But Ilya dug his hands hard into Shane's ass and resisted the hand that tried to yank him away. With trembling thighs and a loud groan, Shane came into his mouth. The flood of bitter warmth was a shocking new feeling, but he found that he loved the mere idea of having Shane's release all over his tongue, coating his throat as he swallowed it all.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Shane exhaled, then reached down to pull Ilya up by the front of his hoodie. He pulled his underwear up, stepped out of his joggers, then started to push Ilya backward toward the couch, eyes dark with lust.

He pushed Ilya to sit, straddling his lap before he pressed into him with a filthy kiss that sent a jolt to his already aching cock.

“Take this off.” Shane was tugging at the hem of his sweatshirt, trying to ruck it up. Ilya yanked it off along with his shirt in one quick, eager motion.

He pushed him back to lay across the cushions, then pulled his sweatpants off and moved to straddle his hips as he stared down at him.

“Fuck.” Shane's hands pushed a slow path from his waist band all the way up to grip at his pecs, before moving one hand down to rub over the massive damp spot at the front of Ilya's underwear. “Is this all for me?”

Ilya nodded, hips pushing up into the touch. He could feel his stomach muscles start to tremble, because when did Shane not make him shake like an overwhelmed, nervous fucking wreck?

“You make me feel so good, baby. You know that, right?” Shane rubbed his palm up and down Ilya's length through his underwear. “I know you think you don't know what you're doing. And I know I make you nervous. But you make me so crazy. Feels better than anyone I've ever had.”

That felt horribly impossible, and Ilya opened his mouth to say so, but the words died when two of Shane's fingers pressed into his mouth instead.

“No arguing, Rozanov.”

Shane fucking Hollander. You will be the death of me.

And what could Ilya do but close his eyes and gently suck on the rough fingers that sat against his tongue?

“That's it. Good boy.” Shane cooed, and used his free hand to pull Ilya's underwear down. The cool air against his hard, flushed cock made him gasp. The way Shane swallowed him to the hilt made him groan and arch and writhe like he'd never been touched before in his life.

With Shane's mouth gliding over him, hot and wet and insistent, it didn't take long before Ilya came apart beneath him. Shane hummed around him as he emptied himself into his mouth, still drooling around Shane's fingers as he let out a broken moan.

He let the fingers slip from his mouth with a whine before Shane wiped them on Ilya's underwear and pulled them back up over his hips.

When Shane finally collapsed on top of him, Ilya wrapped both his arms and legs around him, squeezing tight.

“Shane. My Shane. Holy fuck.” He mumbled into his neck, and Shane was giggling sweetly, letting Ilya rock them back and forth.

“I know, baby. I can't believe you're finally here.”

He couldn't believe it either. Every second of pain was worth it to be right here. He didn't think there was any type of torture he wouldn't subject himself to if it meant being with Shane.

“You missed me?”

“You know I did.” Shane lifted his head and kissed him and his heart fluttered like it would fly out of his chest if he didn't hold it in.

He let Shane kiss him until his lips tingled and his mouth was scraped raw from Shane's stubble. He never wanted to fucking leave.

It was late by the time Shane fed Ilya and got around to giving him the tour. His place was impeccable, as Ilya imagined it would be, but still so very Shane that it made him feel a huge surge of fondness.

They ended on the balcony, shoved together on the small loveseat, snuggled beneath a soft blanket that was draped over them both. They were quiet for a while; simply watching Boston glow in front of them.

It was Shane's voice that finally broke through the silence. “You really worried me that day when I called you. After your father...”

“I know. I am sorry for that. Was in a very bad place, I think.”

“You don't need to apologize.” Shane gripped his knee. “I just…wish I could have been there for you. You carry too much on your own. I think you always have.”

Ilya looked down, jaw clenching hard. Shane always saw right through him. Straight to the core; to exactly who he was when the walls came down. A person that even he himself couldn't always see.

“You don't have to deal with shit alone. Actually, I'm not going to let you, so.”

“So bossy, Hollander.” Ilya couldn't stop his smirk.

“Yeah, and you fucking love it. Don't start drooling again, this is a nice blanket.” Shane gave him a bratty little smile, and Ilya wanted to eat it directly off his face.

“This is, ah…how do you call it? Monster of your own making, Shane.”

“Must be, cause I never saw ‘shy puppy’ Ilya a day in my life until I touched you.” Shane poked his side.

“You make me do crazy things.” Ilya let his head fall back against the cushion, hooking his ankle around Shane's.

“Well, one of those crazy things better be asking for help when you need it. You understand me?”

“Yes, captain.” Ilya closed his eyes with a smile.

“Speaking of. You're coming to the arena tomorrow to meet with the training staff, right?” Shane sat up straight, like he usually did when he got excited. It was unbearably cute.

“Yes. Will be there while you are at practice.” Ilya opened his eyes again, turning his head to watch the excitement on Shane's face.

“Oh, maybe you can come watch some of it.” Shane's eyes lit up, his smile making the apples of his cheeks perfect and round.

“I would like that. Have to meet with real estate agent later on, but-”

“What?” Shane's whole face twisted. “Real estate agent?”

“Yes…?” Ilya's brows furrowed in confusion.

“For what?” Shane turned his whole body toward him.

“For…a place to stay? I-”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Shane said over top of him, and Ilya reared back. “Ilya, what are you talking about?”

Ilya blinked at him dumbly.

“You're staying here, aren't you? Why don't you want to stay here? You- you don't want to stay with me?”

Shane looked honestly hurt, and Ilya immediately put his hands on Shane's shoulders.

“Lyubimyy, no. Is not that. Of course I do. I just…I did not want to assume…”

“Assume that you would move in with your rich boyfriend? I think that's okay to assume.” Shane huffed.

Ilya's mind blanked out. Boyfriend. My Boyfriend? Did he just say that? Am I fucking dreaming?

“Yes, your boyfriend.”

Fuck. He didn't even realize he'd asked that out loud. His cheeks went warm, then a smile tugged hard at the corners of his lips “Really?”

“Really.” Shane smiled back, putting a palm to Ilya's cheek. “Fuck, you're so cute.”

Boyfriend. Ilya had never been a boyfriend. Now he was one, and he had one, and it was Shane fucking Hollander, and he wanted to scream over the balcony railing. Shane Hollander is my fucking boyfriend.

He surged forward and threw his arms around Shane, unable to contain the giddy sound that escaped his mouth as he squeezed him tight.

His mind brought him back to the beach. To the night he slipped out of the party and into the darkness. To being fucking terrified and alone and thinking this was never going to happen for him. He was never going to find love, or be happy, or have anyone that wanted to stick by his side.

And now he was here, with Shane pressing kisses to the side of his head, holding him like he was something worth keeping.

Everything will be okay.

It was true, and he never should have doubted it. Never, ever doubt Shane fucking Hollander.

Shane's hand laced into the back of his curls, their noses brushing together. “My boyfriend is going to walk me to practice tomorrow. And then he's gonna fucking crush it in his meeting.”

“Yeah?” Ilya smiled, bringing his lips closer to Shane's.

“They're all gonna love you, baby. I know it.”

“How do you know this?” Ilya kissed his bottom lip teasingly.

Shane kissed him more firmly, fingers playing at his curls before he trailed his mouth along Ilya's jaw and to his ear.

“Because you're you.”

The whispered words made his skin prickle all over. Those words that always made him come undone.

He was so fucking in love that he felt like the words would tumble out of his heart and straight through his mouth before he could even think about it.

This is what it feels like. He finally knew. He finally understood what it was like to look at someone and see your beating heart living outside of your chest and in their perfect hands.

Tell him. Say the words. He's everything to you now.

He felt Shane's lips warm against the side of his neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses that made his mind go blissfully numb.

Be brave, Ilya.

He would. For Shane. He just needed to figure out a fucking way, because he had no idea how to do any of this. How to be bisexual and vulnerable and a boyfriend and in love. But for the man currently ravaging his neck, he was certain he'd do absolutely anything.

This was the man that had cared about him since they were stupid teenagers. Who had always been smart enough to see right through Ilya's defenses. Who stopped at nothing to get Ilya out of Russia and safely into his arms.

It felt like his life was starting over, right here, right now. Like for once, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

You love him, Ilya. Be brave.

Chapter End Notes

I realized halfway through writing this that the ending was definitely going to need more than 1 more chapter, so, here we are lmao

Let's all get in line behind Shane to beat Alexei's ass

Loverboy ilya rozanov you WILL be brave 😭💕

Next chapter is really the last one ok thank u all sooooooo much for the love you've shown this story so far 🫶💖

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

The very first thing Shane thought when they met on that first day of practice freshman year was fuck my life, Ilya Rozanov is fucking hot.

It felt like much more than a teenaged Shane, who had just recently accepted his own sexuality and was trying very hard to focus on only hockey, could handle. He'd walked into the training room, determined and focused, and immediately got an eye full - and ear full - of the brazen Russian who acted like he owned the place and looked like a god damn model.

All he could see was a big, glaring problem with sparkling eyes and dark blonde curls and a smile that made his stomach tumble. He thought his only saving grace would be that the guy was horribly irritating. He was smug, cocky, and smart-mouthed; and Shane hoped that would make him hate his unfairly good looking teammate. That he would be able to simply tune the asshole out as much as possible and go about his life. Or at least, that was the plan.

The first problem with that plan was that Shane ended up befriending Ilya's best friend, which happened completely by accident.

The second problem was that Shane fairly quickly found out a secret that not many people knew: Ilya Rozanov is a fucking sweetheart.

He tried to hide it, Shane knew. But Shane saw it. He saw it the first time late one December night during freshman year at the team's Christmas party. They had all been seated in a private room at a restaurant; way too many bulky hockey players shoved shoulder to shoulder and getting far too rowdy. The room was hot and loud and Shane was already overwhelmed with finals and he felt like he would break apart at the seams if he stayed in that room for a second longer.

Shane had quietly ducked out of the room and into the empty lobby, planning to pretend he was taking a phone call if anyone happened upon him. But Ilya snuck up on him silently - one of his many annoying habits - and Shane didn't have time to course correct. To stop his leg from bouncing or fix his face into something other than deadpan misery.

He had fully expected Ilya to chirp him and call him boring. Instead, he held out a can of ginger ale, then watched Shane intently when he plucked it from his hand. “They are like animals, yes? You had right idea. I will steal.” And Ilya had plopped down right next to him, cracked open the can of coke he'd been holding in his other hand, and sat quietly at his side for the rest of the night.

So he found himself hopelessly charmed; caught in the clutches of the brash but secretly soft Russian. And somewhere along the way, when Shane made the bold choice to come out, Ilya became not only one of his biggest supporters, but a shameless and aggressive flirt.

It was like a silly little game they played. Ilya would say something that ranged anywhere from mildly flirty to wildly inappropriate, and Shane would blush and try and fail not to smile, and then he would push Ilya away with a fond shake of his head. It was fun, except for the times when it wasn't. And that was usually when they both got a little bit too tipsy, and then the flirting felt a little bit too real, and it did absolutely nothing to help the whole trying not to have a crush on your straight friend thing.

There was one particular incident at a party where a drunk Ilya laced his hand into the back of Shane's hair, looked him dead in the eyes, and said Shane Hottlander, if I was gay, I would fuck the shit out of you. Shane had never really recovered from that one.

Having a crush on Ilya was sort of like the time he became obsessed with a red panda during a trip to the zoo. Shane begged his parents to let him take it home and keep it as a pet; but his parents, of course, had to gently explain to him that the red panda belonged in its enclosure. Locked away where Shane could only look at it from afar. Not take it home and keep it for himself.

He left the zoo with a red panda stuffed animal, and he liked it well enough, but it wasn't the real thing. Which was exactly like the boyfriend he ended up with in senior year; who did have curly hair, but it was chocolate brown instead of golden. He did have blue eyes, but they were more like slate instead of the sea. Shane did like him, he did, but he never got an explosion of butterflies in his belly when he was around. That was a sensation reserved for his very hot, very flirty, and very straight friend.

It was a sensation that left him a few days after graduation, when he hugged Ilya goodbye and blushed and rolled his eyes at that deep Russian voice yelling be good, Shane Hottlander from the car window. And it was a sensation that returned when he was standing in a hotel lobby in Maine and heard that same deep Russian voice yelling I know that is not my sexy Shane I see over there.

But somewhere between college graduation and the hotel lobby, Shane had found his full confidence. It had taken some time and a lot of effort, but he was certainly no longer in the business of shying away from what he truly wanted.

And what he had truly wanted was to see if Svetlana’s theory was correct. It seemed a bit far-fetched to him at the time, but she had insisted. Shane, I have known Ilya for basically my entire life. You need to listen to me. He is attracted to men and he is attracted to you. You two need to fuck it out before I lose my mind.

So, Shane took his confidence and his sluttiest shorts, and he somehow now was staring at a peacefully sleeping Ilya. In Boston. In his home. In his bedroom. In his fucking bed.

Even in the dark, Ilya was absolutely stunning. He was sprawled out on his back, miles of warm skin and scattered beauty marks over beautifully sculpted muscle. Though his face was slack with sleep, it was still all sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Shane had been quite shocked to find beautiful Ilya attending the wedding alone.

He found it hard to believe that Ilya wouldn't have a full roster of women lined up and ready to climb into his lap at a moment's notice. Or maybe he did, and he just hadn't wanted to bother with the commitment of bringing someone along on an international, days long date.

But none of that mattered now, because Ilya was here with him. Ilya was his fucking boyfriend. Possessiveness hit him like taking a slap shot square to his chest. All those years of lingering glances. Of quietly burning up under Ilya's friendly touches. Of secretly wishing for something that felt like it wasn't even possible. Even with the years that separated them, there had always been a little part of Shane that held on to that crush. That felt that tiny pang of nauseating jealousy when he saw a girl hanging off of Ilya in his Instagram stories.

Shane felt unable to help himself now as he let his hands grope at Ilya's chest. He was aware it was offensively early in the morning, but fuck it. They had been apart for too long, and he wanted his boyfriend.

“Baby.” Shane's lips grazed Ilya's ear, then trailed over to press soft kisses to the side of his face.

Ilya let out a sleepy groan that dissolved into an inquisitive sound as Shane nuzzled his nose into him. “Mm, Shane?”

His voice was deep and rough and Shane couldn't help but bite him for it. He nipped at his jaw, causing Ilya to draw in his breath.

“Yes. I hope I'm the only one who would be waking you up like this.”

“Is not a dream?” Ilya rolled to his side, placing a warm palm against the side of Shane's neck. They were nearly nose to nose, Ilya's eyes still heavy with sleep.

Shane responded by giving him a feather light, almost teasing kiss. Ilya let out a soft whine before pushing his tongue so insistently into Shane's mouth that he let out a startled laugh. It immediately turned into a purring groan when Ilya started to kiss him in a way that was equal parts passionate, desperate, and filthy.

Though he wasn't the most adventurous person in the world, Shane had experienced his fair share of dates and hookups over the years. He could confidently say that no one had ever kissed him the way Ilya Rozanov kissed him. Ilya kissed him like he would fucking die if their tongues stopped touching. Like he didn't ever need to pull away for a breath, because Shane was his oxygen.

He loved the way Ilya moaned into his mouth. The way they both got so lost in it that their entire mouths got glazed in saliva, all the way down to their chins. Shane felt Ilya grip into his hair before rolling over to climb on top of Shane completely.

Ilya was completely hard, pressing his covered erection down against Shane's stomach before scrambling lower to rut urgently against Shane's crotch. He was panting, one hand still tangled in Shane's hair, the other clinging to his hip.

Fuck, he was always such an eager thing. He seemed to completely lose control the moment they touched, like he just couldn't help himself. It made Shane feel oddly charmed and insanely turned on.

He reached down to grab Ilya by the waist, a moan slipping out as Ilya's cock rubbed against his. “Baby, wait. Wait. Slow down.”

Ilya's hips stuttered to a stop, his face pressed into Shane's neck where he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses. Shane tugged gently at his curls. “I said wait.”

He whined into Shane's skin, but stilled himself immediately. Shane would be lying if he said it didn't make him want to pin Ilya down and ride him into the mattress. “My good boy. You're a good listener, you know that?”

“Only for you.” Ilya mumbled into him before turning his head. “And I know is only for you, because you are the only person who has ever told me this. In fact, most people say I am terrible listener. Maybe worst ever.”

Shane laughed and ruffled his curls. “Well, now that you mention it.” Ilya was, in fact, an awful listener. Truly a menace through and through. “Is this you making up for all the times you never fucking listened to me when I was your captain?”

“Was not that bad.”

“Oh, do you not remember the time I told you to move slightly to your left and you said come over here and make me, Hollander? And we almost got into a legit fight?” Shane shook his head at the memory. It was the only time he'd ever dropped gloves at a teammate, and of course it was with Ilya.

“We did not almost get into a fight. You stormed over like an angry kitten with your gloves off. I never would have swung at this pretty face, lyubimyy. Not even then.” Ilya's lips were soft and warm against his cheek.

Shane rolled his eyes, but the overwhelming fondness he felt for Ilya couldn't be contained long enough to keep the smile from his face. The man had always been agitating to the point of making Shane insane, but his heart was pure gold. It made him want to wrap his arms around Ilya and not let go. To make up for all the time they'd lost. But his alarm clock clearly had different ideas.

“Shane.” Ilya whined, burrowing himself impossibly further into Shane's neck. “I do not want to. Please.”

“I know. But we have to. All your shit is still at Sveta's and you have a big day today.”

Butterflies bursted in his belly at the mere thought of it. Ilya was going to come work for his fucking team. He knew it wasn't exactly the life Ilya would have chosen for himself. He wasn't playing in the NHL like he'd always dreamed of. But this was as close as Shane could possibly get him for now, and he really hoped Ilya loved it.

Seeing the deep, tired pain in Ilya's eyes over missing out on the life he had so badly wanted had truly broken Shane's heart. He wanted nothing more than to see Ilya happy, and what Shane wanted, Shane got. He would make fucking sure of it.

“Do not say big day. You are making me nervous.” Ilya flopped back onto the pillow.

Shane grabbed Ilya's infuriatingly pretty face in his hands. “Don't be. It'll be good. I promise. Okay? And if it's not good, I'll yell at everyone until they make it good for you.”

Ilya's eyes went a bit starry as he smiled up at him. “You would do this for me?”

He almost had to laugh. Ilya Rozanov had endeared himself to Shane so long ago that he couldn't even imagine a time where he wouldn't fight for him.

With his lips to Ilya's, he whispered the absolute truth. “I would do anything for you, baby.”

A chill whipped through the late morning air, stinging Shane's bare fingers where they clutched around the strap of his bag. The normalcy of the routine had him on autopilot, and he almost didn't even look up as they approached the practice facility doors, but Shane was very glad when he lifted his head at the last second.

The look in Ilya's eyes was almost too much. There was such an innocent, almost child-like wonder in the way his whole face lit up as he stopped and took in the official Boston logo emblazoned over the glass door in front of him. Ilya's face split into a grin as he huffed out a laugh of disbelief, and Shane had to quickly swallow the lump in his throat.

Part of him had been scared that Ilya would resent this. That he would either feel like Shane had done this out of pity, or that it would be too painful for him to work in the league without actually playing. But looking at him now, all he saw was pure gratitude wrapped in a toothy grin that made Shane's heart skip in his chest.

Shane couldn't be more in love with the man if he tried. The words danced on his tongue, but he had to swallow them down. He already felt like he was being a little pushy; basically assigning Ilya as his boyfriend and telling him they would be living together. Ilya was obsessed with him; that much he knew. He also knew what they had between them was very, very real. But the stupid, anxious perfectionist in him needed to find the right moment, which probably was not on this sidewalk with his teammates filing in around them.

Ilya turned his smile toward him, and Shane resisted the urge to pinch him right on his precious face. Instead, he settled for placing a hand between his shoulder blades to rub his back encouragingly.

“You ready?”

“Yes, captain.” Ilya bumped his shoulder playfully, but Shane could sense the nerves looming underneath his confident smile.

Shane couldn't help but to give him a little scratch on the back of his head as they walked through the doors. “I'll see you in a little bit, okay?”

Ilya's eyes softened as he ran a knuckle along Shane's jaw. “Bye.”

He watched as Ilya disappeared down the hallway, then made a quick dash for the management offices, weaving expertly through the hallways until he saw Svetlana chatting casually with the head of the training staff.

“Oh, perfect, you're both here.” Shane cut in, causing them both to stop mid sentence to turn toward him. “Ilya is already downstairs. Just promise me that you'll do whatever you need to do to make sure he's comfortable. Okay?”

Svetlana quirked a brow. “Oh. You are making demands now?”

Shane blinked. “Last time I checked, my contract negotiations are still happening, and ownership said they'll do anything to keep me happy. And if he's happy, then I'm happy. If he's not happy…well. Let's hope it doesn't get to that, right?” He raised his eyebrows challengingly, eyes bouncing between the two people who stared back at him in silence.

“Great. Glad we all agree.” Shane put on his most polite smile and excused himself to walk past them. His grin widened when he heard Svetlana scoff, then the distinct sound of her heels following him down the hallway.

“You are a brat, and he is a spoiled brat, and you two absolutely deserve each other.” She huffed once she caught up.

“Hm. I don't know that he's a spoiled brat yet, but I'm gonna make him one.”

“You're unbelievable.” Svetlana laughed, shuffling through the folders in her hands.

“Am I?” Shane turned to her and crossed his arms.

“Shane. He is a grown man. You need to watch how much you baby him.”

“No, I don't think I do. I think we're both exactly where we want to be. I mean honestly, Sveta, who the fuck has truly taken care of him? You don't think he deserves that?” Shane could feel the annoyance bubbling in his chest. He wished people would stop leaving commentary on his life. It got exhausting.

“Of course he deserves to be taken care of. I'm just saying, other people-”

“I'm gonna stop you right there, because I don't give a fuck what other people think. Not anymore. I spent too much of my life worried about that.”

Svetlana smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Fair enough. But just know, there are a lot of alpha males in this building that might have something to say if they witness your sweet, obedient Ilya. Which, by the way, is fucking crazy. That boy has never behaved for anyone a day in his life.”

“Well, he never got the full Shane Hottlander experience before, now did he?”

Svetlana wrinkled her nose. “You guys are gross.”

“I know. And if anyone has anything to say about him, I'll make them wish they fucking didn't.”

She put her hands up. “Well god damn. Alright. Just don't kill anyone, please.”

Shane simply gave her a shrug before going on his way. He had a feeling his colleagues thought he was kidding around, but this absolutely was not a joke. Ilya was going to love this fucking job, and Shane was going to make sure of it. It was what he deserved.

In his mind, Ilya deserved the fucking world. Though he could be immensely agitating, Ilya really did look out for Shane for the entirety of their college years. He took care of a family who took him for granted. He was so fucking brave in the face of uncertainty about his sexuality. Shane was proud of him. He was protective over him. And he was going to take care of him, no matter what anyone had to say about it.

A satisfying, post-practice ache was wound around Shane's muscles as he fell in line with the rest of his team who had decided to follow him back to the training gym.

They all claimed they wanted to come with Shane to check up on their teammates who had to forgo practice for PT, but Shane knew the fuckers were just dying to catch a glimpse of Ilya.

Marlow confirmed as much when he threw his arm around Shane excitedly. “I still can't believe your boy is here, brother. The guys are fucking pumped.”

Shane gave a fond little shake of his head when sounds of agreement filled the hallway. The wedding crew had become oddly fascinated with Ilya, who they deemed The Winter Soldier after watching some of his college highlights.

“You guys are gonna make his fucking ego bigger than it already is.”

“Your ego should be allowed to be as big as your ass. Which means the two of you have clearance to be some real cocky motherfuckers.” St.Simon laughed, digging at Shane with his elbow.

“Cut it out.” Shane shrugged him off, eyes scanning the gym as they filed in, before landing on Ilya who was standing on the far side. He was animatedly discussing something with the team's head physical therapist, and Shane's heart fluttered wildly in his chest, a smile sneaking its way onto his face before he could stop it.

Ilya looked completely natural here; an easy grin on his face and that confident composure that had struck Shane from the first moment they met.

“Someone is smitten.” St.Simon tried his luck for a second time, and Shane turned to give him a flat, unamused look.

“Go bother someone else. And don't pick Ilya. If you guys embarrass him here, I'll end you all.” He let his warning glance settle over all of them before he made his rounds to check up on his teammates scattered around the gym.

When he eventually circled back to the front of the gym, his motley crew was still lounging around, a few of them grinning at Shane like they were in on a joke that he wasn't privy to.

“What did you guys do?” Shane's eyes narrowed.

“We didn't do shit.” Hammersmith put his hands up defensively.

“Looks like your boy's already got a fan.” Marlow jostled Shane's shoulders and nodded in the direction of Ilya, who was leaned up against the gym's mirrored wall. The team's young social media intern was standing in front of him, twirling her blonde hair around her finger as she batted her eyes and giggled at something he said.

Oh. So she was just openly fucking flirting his boyfriend. Jealousy clamped its jaws straight down onto Shane's gut as he watched her eyes roam over where his too tight t-shirt clung against his body. Where his biceps bulged as he crossed his arms over his chest. When she leaned in close to touch, Shane felt his blood turn to molten lava. But Ilya quickly took a step backward, avoiding her hand completely as he gave her a polite smile.

What a good fucking boy.

He could see they were mid conversation, but he didn't really care. “Rozanov!” Shane called, and Ilya's head snapped up immediately. Shane crooked a finger at him, and Ilya didn't so much as excuse himself before he was walking away from the confused look intern and right toward Shane.

The guys, who were of course watching the entire exchange, looked positively incredulous before a chorus of barking and panting rang out; a few shouts of walk him like a dog, Cap! sprinkled in.

“Heel, boy!” Marlow yelled through cupped hands, and Shane gave him a hard shove that barely moved his enormous body at all. Ilya held a middle finger up toward the group of antagonizers, but kept his gaze squarely on Shane as he approached.

“Hi.” Ilya's syrupy, lovesick smile made Shane's stomach do a little tumble. He couldn't help himself as he reached out to scratch through Ilya's curls, right behind his ear.

“Hi. How'd everything go? You done for the day?”

Ilya nodded. “Was good. Everyone is nice here.”

“Maybe a little too nice.” Shane muttered, eyes cutting over to the intern, who was busy pretending to look at her phone.

“Hmm?” Ilya cocked his head.

“Nothing, baby.” Shane smiled, and he could head stifled giggles and oooohs coming from behind him.

“Baby.” Someone mocked, and it really better not have been fucking St.Simon, because he was on his last warning for the day.

Shane chose to ignore their chirps, placing a hand against Ilya's lightly flushed cheek. “Let's go home. Okay?”

The way Ilya leaned into his palm and looked at him like he was the only thing in the world made Shane's chest flutter.

“Yes, lyubimyy.” Ilya's voice was soft and sweet and Shane would burn the whole world down for him. Maybe starting with Ashley the intern.

The moment they were through the front door, Shane decided it had been far too long since his hands were on Ilya. He'd be lying if he said watching that girl flirt with him didn't dredge up some sour college memories of being forced to witness countless girls with their hands all over the one guy he could never stop fucking thinking about.

With the light of the afternoon pouring through the windows, Ilya looked god-like. His curls shined bronze and his pink lips pouted ever so slightly as he studied Shane through sea glass eyes.

A memory flashed; the way Ilya had looked at him at the bar the first time Shane dared to flirt back. It had felt powerful and exciting and insanely erotic to watch the way his breath caught and his eyes widened and his pulse jumped in his neck. It was like Shane was watching in real-time as a door to his impossible desires blew wide open.

And now he was here, real and whole and Shane's. Possessiveness gripped him so hard he almost lost his breath. He pulled Ilya to him by his belt loops, lips pressed to his ear.

“Do you know how fucking crazy you make me?”

It was true. Shane had never experienced the type of burning jealousy he got over Ilya with anyone else. Had never experienced going out of his mind with lust until he was tangled in bed with the gorgeous Russian who was currently tilting his head to present his neck to Shane like it was his own personal property.

Shane bit softly into the flesh, putting both hands on Ilya's chest as he started to push him backward toward the bedroom. He gladly accepted the tongue Ilya slipped into his mouth, his hands roaming over Shane's body like they couldn't figure out where to settle.

He broke them apart briefly to ruck Ilya's shirt off, before ridding himself of his own, eyes moving over Ilya's body greedily. He'd always had an amazing physique, even when they were young. But the years had made his shoulders broader and his chest bigger and his arms thicker and everything about him made Shane feel sort of feral.

In his daze, he had hardly even registered Ilya slipping his joggers off until he was laid back on the bed in only his underwear, staring up at Shane with his lips parted. Fuck, he looked so fucking good.

Shane quickly rid himself of his own pants and crawled up the end of the bed, drinking in the breathtaking sight before him.

“Bet all the girls in Moscow fucking loved you, didn't they?” Shane murmured, moving to straddle Ilya's slender hips. His palms roamed Ilya's bare torso; the possessiveness now truly taking root. He thought of all the hands that had gotten to be there before him. On his sweet Ilya.

“Mm maybe not all.” Ilya gave a crooked little smirk like the menace he was. “Definitely a few.”

“Oh. You think it's funny?” Shane locked his eyes onto Ilya's. Before he could respond, Shane started to roll his hips in a way that was, frankly, pornographic. Ilya was completely hard beneath him as he grinded his ass, tantalizing and slow.

The grin fell off Ilya's face, quickly replaced with an awestruck stare as his eyes went right to the movement of Shane's hips. It was so easy to get Ilya right where he wanted him. Where they both wanted to be. He wanted to be absolutely certain his boyfriend would never give a second thought to any of those girls ever again.

“Eyes up here, baby.” Shane put a finger under Ilya's chin to tip his head back up. “Those girls probably loved this big dick, didn't they?”

He shifted his angle to rut his own hardness right against Ilya's. With a stuttered moan, Ilya's hips pushed up to chase the friction, but Shane used a hand to pin him down. “I asked you a question.”

“Fuck.” Ilya's chest started to heave. “They- they did, but-”

“But?” Shane cut him off, leaning forward. “But they never had you like this, did they?” He put his mouth to Ilya's ear. “Never had you fucking shaking and begging for it.”

He could already feel the dampness on the front of Ilya's underwear and the trembling of his muscles as he let out a soft whine. The way Ilya fell apart under his touch was astounding. This was the Ilya Rozanov. Super slut and sex god. But with Shane, he transformed into a whimpering, whining good boy who was so overwhelmed he could hardly stop himself from finishing in his underwear.

It was unlike anything Shane had ever seen, and it was fucking hot.

“That's not an answer. Tell me. Did they have you like this?”

“Never.” Ilya put his hands on Shane's hips where they continued to roll against him. “Fuck, Shane. Never. Never.”

The answer satisfied Shane enough to make a moan escape through his lips. “Off.” He reached down and snapped the waist band of Ilya's briefs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to rid himself of his own underwear.

When he turned back around, his breath got caught somewhere in his chest. Ilya was up on his knees, panting, cheeks pink and pupils wide. Shane's eyes traveled down, taking in his heaving chest and the flex of his abs. Then they landed on his cock, hard and flushed and dripping. A string of sticky precum dripped from the tip all the way down the sheets below him.

Shane had truly never experienced anyone so eager to fuck him before. He thought back to those drunken moments when Ilya's words would start to feel too honest. When the look in his eyes would betray the playful nature he usually had about flirting with Shane. There had been many close calls, and Shane remembered them all.

He could feel it now. A hand on his hip in a crowded college apartment. Shane's eyes burning a hole through the head of Ilya's date who had been grinding all over him all night. Ilya's lips to Shane's ear. Shane's heart thumping as hard as the music. “Don't worry, Hollander. I bet you'd ride it better than she can.”

“Shane. Please.” Ilya's voice broke through the haze of his memory.

Shane's hand went to the side of Ilya's neck, warm and already damp with sweat. “You're so good. So patient.”

He dropped down onto the bed, eyes fixed up on Ilya as he positioned himself with his mouth open just beneath his leaking cock. He heard Ilya's breath tremble, saw his dick twitch, then felt the fresh drip of precum hit his tongue.

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya whined, hips jerking forward. “I need you. Please, I fucking-”

Shane sat back up, licking his lips before his hands laced into the back of Ilya's curls. “I know what you need, baby.” He kissed him then, slow and filthy, before using one hand to give him a firm shove onto his back.

“I know better than anyone else, don't I?”

Ilya nodded wordlessly, hands reaching up to grab hard at Shane's hips.

Another memory. Ilya stumbling into Shane's room, smelling like weed and vodka, flopping down at the end of Shane's bed. “Can you please get the fuck out? Seriously, Ilya. You're pissing me off tonight.” Shane had snapped at him, and Ilya had turned to him with a look in his eyes Shane hadn't been able to place. “You're hot as fuck when you're mad, you know that?”

It had left Shane horny and frustrated beyond belief. Then why don't you just fuck me? He'd wanted to ask. Why all those girls and never me?

But now Ilya was staring up at him, eyes pleading, cock hard against his stomach, ready to take whatever Shane would let him have. Still nervous and overwhelmed, but trusting Shane completely. He couldn't help but to kiss him again, to taste the warmth of his mouth, to feel the reverence in every lap of Ilya's tongue.

Shane fumbled blindly for the bottle of lube perched on the nightstand, smiling slightly against Ilya's lips when he took it from Shane's hand.

At the first press of a slick finger, he breathed out, pressing their foreheads together. Ilya's movements were tentative, his eyes searching.

“Is okay?” He whispered, and Shane knew he was the sweetest man he'd ever had in his bed. So careful and attentive. He nodded, watching the way Ilya's pupils swallowed the blue in his eyes as he slowly worked Shane open with gentle fingers.

They were both panting by the time he was ready. The way Ilya got so fucking worked up just from touching him made Shane feel out of his mind. He reached down to work the lube over Ilya's cock, already throbbing in his hand.

Ilya gasped out a moan, hips pushing up, a hand gripped hard into Shane's hip like he needed to steady himself. “Shane, fuck-”

“I know, baby. I'm gonna take care of you.” He spoke directly into Ilya's ear, feeling the way he shivered beneath him. Ilya's chest heaved as Shane lined himself up, both hands now holding his hips in a death grip.

“Shane, the condom-”

“I want to feel you.” Shane whispered, lips still against his ear. “Can I?”

Ilya cursed several times in Russian before he seemed to find his answer in English. “Fuck. Yes, Shane. Please. Please, need you-”

“Shh.” Shane started to slowly sink down, the stretch making him draw in his breath. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to how big Ilya was, but he fucking loved it.

Beneath him, Ilya was arching, breath coming in short, stuttered bursts. “Holy fuck.”

Shane hummed happily, fully seating himself, one hand on Ilya's chest. He was so fucking beautiful, and Shane hated to know that anyone ever got this view. They'll never fucking get it again.

He began slowly, eyes locked on Ilya's as he moaned softly, hips rolling slightly beneath Ilya's grip. He sank all the way down and back up again, almost teasingly slow, and could feel the rumble in Ilya's chest as the movements caused him to groan deeply.

As he picked up his pace, he felt the fingers on his hips dig in further. Heard the whiny moans beneath him slip out with abandon. One loud moan in particular struck Shane with sudden familiarity. The night that he listened to Ilya through the bathroom wall. The desperation he'd felt to be the one pulling those sounds from him.

He moved even faster, slamming down against Ilya's hips without grace.

“Fuck, Ilya. You're fucking mine. You're mine.” He grunted the words out, hand digging hard into the muscle of Ilya's chest.

“I'm yours, Shane.” Ilya's eyes were shut, hands now gripping Shane's ass, breathing rough and ragged. “Fucking, fuck. Shane-”

Before he could give it a second thought, Shane's hand curved itself around Ilya's throat in a possessive hold. “Look at me.”

Ilya's eyes opened, and he arched into Shane's touch, hands trembling where they met Shane's flesh.

“Fucking tell me. Say it's only me, baby.” He gripped onto Ilya's throat, still slamming down hard against Ilya.

His own cock was so hard and the angle had Ilya hitting his prostate on every pass, and fuck, he was going come. But he needed Ilya to say it.

“Only you, Shane. Fuck. I am yours. Only yours.”

Shane tightened his hand around Ilya's throat. “My good fucking boy.”

And suddenly, without warning, Ilya was coming. Spilling inside him endlessly as he whined and groaned beneath him, thighs trembling and chest heaving hard.

It was enough to bring Shane hurdling toward the edge. Ilya reached down and took Shane in a shaky hand, and three strokes later, he was painting Ilya's abs as he moaned out his name.

For a few moments, the only sound was their breathing. Shane went to unclasp his hand from Ilya's throat, but Ilya quickly placed his own hand on top to keep it there.

“I mean it. I am yours, Shane. I would do anything for you. You are fucking-”

Shane could tell Ilya was getting himself worked up. He felt him take a deep, steadying breath.

“You are everything to me. Okay?”

Shane moved his hand to Ilya's cheek. “My baby.”

Ilya nodded, then brought their lips together for a syrupy slow kiss. When they pulled apart again, Ilya was looking up at him with such adoration that Shane almost had to look away.

“You are mine, too?”

Oh, his heart was never going to survive this man. Who else on this fucking planet would he lay in a pool of sticky cum for, just because he couldn't bear to be out of his arms? Who else would have him possessed enough to wrap a hand around their throat and command that they give themselves to him?

“I'm yours.” He kissed the tip of Ilya's nose, then cocked his head a bit when he felt Ilya grab his hand and start to maneuver it.

Back around his fucking throat.

“You like that, huh?” Shane raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. Is like you are my collar.”

Shane forgot to breathe for a second, then their eyes met, and Ilya arched his neck up into his hold. Christ, he was giving Shane a fucking complex. Or a new kink. Probably both.

“You really do let me walk you like a dog.”

Ilya hummed, looking completely content.

“It doesn't…bother you?” Shane's fingers danced along the hot skin of Ilya's neck.

“Bother me? Shane. You called me your good boy and I came my fucking brains out immediately.”

“Good point.”

They both dissolved into laughter, Shane's hand still on Ilya's neck as he pressed their foreheads together again.

As their heartbeats slowed and their breathing mingled, he could only think one thing. It was always meant to be us.

Icy snowflakes floated through the frigid night, softly clinking against Shane's windshield as he navigated the empty Boston streets. He shifted slightly in his seat, letting out a soft groan at the whole body ache set deep in his bones from a long stretch of hard fought games. He was truly exhausted, fighting to keep his eyes open as he tapped impatiently against the steering wheel, willing home to be closer somehow.

Roadies never really bothered him before. Sure, he liked his own bed much more than hotels. He enjoyed being in his own space, where everything was quiet and calm and predictable. But he didn't usually find himself longing for home, or counting down the seconds until he was back in Boston. He didn't ever watch the street signs go by with anticipation squeezing at his chest as he got closer and closer.

That was before he had someone to miss. Before he had someone that he could physically feel the absence of. Before Ilya.

The whole training staff didn't usually travel with them, and with Ilya being brand new, he didn't make the roster. Shane had seen the way Ilya's shoulders dropped. Felt how he clung to him just a little harder when they had to say goodbye. Even Svetlana was traveling with them this time; some important management meeting that Shane didn't really care to know more about.

He knew, of course, they would be spending time apart. It was the nature of the game. That didn't make him miss Ilya any less, or feel any less bad about leaving him alone. He's a grown man, Shane. The voice nagged at the back of his mind. He's fine.

Yes, he's a grown man. But he's my fucking baby. Shane shook his head. Why the fuck had he resorted to arguing with himself? He really needed to get some sleep. It felt like an eternity before he pulled into the building's garage, hauled his bag out of the trunk, and dragged himself to his front door.

He tried to be as quiet as possible, knowing that it was well past midnight and Ilya was likely asleep. It was dark inside, save for the flickering light of the TV in the living room. Shane quietly dropped his bag and craned his neck around to see Ilya's form curled up on the couch.

Smiling softly at the sight, Shane padded over to the couch, kneeling down in front of where Ilya was fast asleep. It was only then that he realized Ilya was hugging something close to his chest. One of Shane's hoodies. Shane's heart clenched as he went to push the curls back from Ilya's forehead, but he stopped mid motion when the TV illuminated his sleep-slack face. Tear tracks were visible on his tinged pink cheeks, and Shane couldn't stop the wounded noise that escaped his throat.

Ilya stirred, brows furrowing before he opened up his bloodshot eyes. “Kotik?” His warm palm came to Shane's cheek, and Shane felt his mouth downturn into a pout.

“Baby. Are you okay?”

“Am fine.” Ilya quickly wiped at his own face, sitting up a bit with Shane's hoodie still clutched to his chest. He moved to pull Shane into a kiss, but Shane leaned backward at the last second.

“You know I don't like it when you lie to me.” Shane put a hand to Ilya's cheek now. “Please tell me.”

Ilya tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Is stupid. I was being…” He waved a hand around in front of him. “Dramatic.”

Shane stroked his thumb back and forth on Ilya's cheek. “Keep going.”

Ilya blew out a breath. “Fuck. I just…missed you, okay? Is like…I spend my whole life thinking…thinking this will not happen for me. I wasted so much time not knowing I could have this. So much fucking time. And being in Russia without you was like torture. Was like…I finally find this, and then had to just leave you behind. So now I am here and you are all I want. Every time we are apart, I feel like is more time wasted that I could be having you. I do not want to waste any more time, Shane.”

Every single piece of his fucking heart shattered all at once. Shane so badly wished they could have known somehow. That he could have shown Ilya years ago that he was allowed to be loved. That he was worthy of being loved. That he wasn't broken or confused for the underlying attraction he clearly had for men. That what Shane had to give him was real.

There were too many years gone now that they couldn't get back. Years that they couldn't have understood where they would end up. But Shane knew one thing for sure: Ilya Rozanov was beautiful, and perfect, and bright as the sun, and he would spend every single day for the rest of his life making sure he knew it.

Shane put both hands on Ilya's face and stared deep into those vast, beautiful eyes.

“I know, baby. I know. I don't want to either. I'm sorry I had to be gone for so long.”

“It is your job, Shane. I know this. You do not need to be sorry.” Ilya put a hand on the back of Shane's head to bring him closer until their foreheads were touching.

“I know. But I am. And I wanna make it up to you, okay?”

“Shane, is really fine, there is nothing to-”

Shane put a finger over Ilya's lips. “Just listen. I'm gonna get us ice time this week, okay? Just me and you.”

“They will let you do this? In the middle of the season?” Ilya spoke around the fingers still pressed to his lips.

“If they want me to be happy they will. And I guarantee you, they want me to be happy.” Shane gave a little smirk, and Ilya exhaled.

“You do too much for me.”

“Baby, for you, I could never do enough.”

Ilya surged forward, pressing their mouths together desperately. Between the clash of lips and tongues and mingled breathing, Shane realized Ilya was whispering something. He pulled back slightly, Ilya clutching desperately at his face.

“I love you, Shane.” Ilya's voice was rough and ragged and his bottom lip was quivering and Shane's heart leapt into his throat so violently he felt like he would choke.

He completely forgot to even breathe, but the sound of Ilya sniffling snapped him back into the moment.

Holy shit.

“Oh my god. Fuck. I love you.” His hands gripped hard into the back of Ilya's hair. “I love you so fucking much.”

His heart was so full it could fucking burst. Love. Real, true love. Something he had never, ever experienced before. And now he was experiencing it full force with Ilya fucking Rozanov. Sometimes his life felt so impossible.

He couldn't have imagined that joking about Ilya's head between his thighs would lead them here. But Ilya was real, and he was lapping his tongue into Shane's mouth, holding his face hard between his hands, and they were in love.

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Ilya said it over and over between kisses, and Shane said it back, and they were so horribly, disgustingly down bad that it should be studied.

Shane wouldn't have it any other way.

One thing about the Boston Bears was that they were always going to be nosey as fuck. Constantly in each other's business. Constantly in Shane's business, most annoyingly of all. He loved his team. Truly he did. But he needed them to get the fuck off the rink and go home.

Shane was skating slow laps, trying to keep himself from biting his blades into the ice impatiently. His teammates were still scattered around; some leaning on the boards. Some draped on the bench. Some moving across the ice without purpose.

He had promised Ilya they would be alone on the ice. Had already made a quick dash back to the locker room to rid himself of most of his gear, hoping his team would follow suit. But after a long, grueling practice, no one seemed in any hurry to leave. Or more likely, some of them knew exactly what Shane was hanging around for, and wanted to chirp him for having a date with his boyfriend.

Either way, their presence made him huff out a frustrated breath that quickly tapered off when he heard the gate swing open.

It had been years since Shane had seen Ilya on the ice. Watching now as Ilya took that first stride toward him, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Ilya had always been a beautiful skater. His limbs were so long that it made him look graceful, while still being powerful and strong. Shane felt his breath catch a bit as Ilya came gliding toward him; the fluorescent lights shining off the bright white of the ice illuminating his face and making him look younger somehow. Or maybe Shane was just reminiscing. Either way, he looked perfect. Face lightly flushed with cold. Eyes bright with a smug smile. Everyone turned to look when Ilya skidded to a sharp stop in front of him.

“Captain.” Ilya gave him a small nod, lips still twisted into a teasing half smirk, and Shane had to physically stop himself from grabbing Ilya by the collar to devour him.

“Haven't seen you in skates senior year.” He tapped Ilya on the shin with his stick.

“Ah, you mean when I saved our championship run?”

Shane huffed. “In your fucking dreams, Rozanov.”

Ilya shrugged and reached out to grab Shane's stick, which he yanked backwards.

“Oh no. This is a full practice. You need to warm up. Go do a lap.”

“Shane, are you-”

“I'm serious, Roz. Show me that footwork, then we'll talk.” Shane gave him a friendly pat on the ass.

“You have not changed, Shane Hottlander. So fucking bossy.” Ilya shook his head, but pushed off and started to stride across the ice.

Drifting back toward the bench, Shane watched his boyfriend with a satisfied smile. “Watch those edges, Rozanov!” Shane yelled across the ice. Ilya shot him a look, but immediately corrected his feet. Maybe this was going to be even more fun than he originally thought.

“He's fast.” Marlow's brows raised, eyes tracking Ilya.

“Was one of the only people who could ever keep up with me.” Shane felt a pang of pride, mixed with a touch of sadness. He would have been a fucking force to be reckoned with in the league.

Shane leaned over the boards to grab a water bottle, glancing toward the other end of the bench where two of his rookies were lazily stretched out.

“Isn't that the new trainer?” One asked, head tilted as Ilya flew past.

The other snorted. “You mean Hollander's little bitch?”

All the blood in Shane's body turned as frigid as the air drifting off the ice. He moved his legs before his mind could catch up, gripping hard against the boards in front of where they sat.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Both of the men bolted upright, then exchanged a sideways glance.

“I-”

“Yes, you. Repeat what you just fucking said, because I must not have heard you right.”

“I didn't-” The rookie cut himself off, eyes wide like a cornered animal.

“You didn't what? Didn't mean it? Didn't think I would hear you? I don't give a fuck. Repeat what you fucking said, unless you're too pussy to do it.” Anger and annoyance burned beneath his skin. Sweet, obedient Ilya. He would be damned if anyone was going to call his Ilya a bitch just because he liked to listen to Shane. These rookies clearly didn't understand who the fuck they were dealing with.

“I said Hollander's little bitch.” He mumbled, and at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Hm. That's fucking interesting. You really think a 6 foot Russian man built like a brick house is a little bitch? Because what, he lets me boss him around a little? Guess what. I'm also bossing you around every single day. Are you a little bitch? Or no, you couldn't possibly be, because you don't like dick. Is that the problem?”

“Look, Cap, I didn't mean it like that. I-”

“Then don't fucking say it.” Shane snapped, finger jabbing in the frightened rookie's direction. “And I better never catch wind of you saying some shit like that ever again. There's no fucking room for that on this team. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Cap.”

Shane wanted to punch the miserable sounding voice straight out of the other man's chest. “Great. Now get the fuck out. Both of you.”

With his arms crossed tight, Shane watched as the rookies, along with the rest of the team, started to file out and toward the locker room. Little bitch. He shook his head. If only they had seen who Ilya Rozanov was on the ice.

He was a bully and a menace. A pain in Shane's ass most of the time. Always costing the team penalties with his recklessness. But at the same time, he was brilliant. Perceptive and strong and out of his mind with pure talent.

It had made Shane's hockey-forward brain even more attracted to him. Just another check on the list of reasons that Ilya was impossibly alluring. Looking at Ilya now, he could absolutely understand why younger Shane had allowed himself to simp over a straight guy.

Ilya had somehow gained a stick and a puck, he suspected from Marlow, and was tearing down the ice in a handling drill. There was a cold concentration in his eyes, the tension in his face highlighting the structure of his cheekbones. Stunning. Shane flew out in front of him, bumped him slightly off course, and hooked the puck away from him, all in one fluid motion.

Playing with Ilya was much like doing anything else with Ilya. Exciting. Challenging. Endearing. Hot. It wasn't long before they were matching each other stride for stride, battling hard for the puck, despite the fact that neither of them were in proper gear.

Shane found himself smashed up against the boards, Ilya's breath hot against the side of his neck. He was fighting to free his arm, grunting in frustration as Ilya laughed, pressing into him harder.

“Aw. You will need to try harder than that, sweetheart.” Ilya cooed, then swiped the puck and took off.

That indeed was the infuriating Ilya Rozanov that he, against his will, fell in love with when he was little more than a teenager. He didn't have quite enough time to catch up to him before the cocky asshole fired off a killer wrist shot straight into the net.

Ilya spun back around, grinning and glorious with sweat sheened on his face. They were both breathing heavily and thoroughly worked, and Shane honestly had lost track of exactly how long they'd even been playing.

“Whatever. You got lucky that time.”

“Ah, is this what you think? Hot shot Shane Hottlander could not possibly be beaten fair and square, hm?” Ilya skated closer slowly. “Oh, Shane. You cannot stand not winning at everything all the time.”

Shane sort of wanted to strangle him, but he was also insanely turned on. Watching Ilya sink a shot like that lit him up like a fucking match. His low, teasing voice did nothing to help the situation.

“Shut the fuck up, Rozanov.” It came out much more weakly than he'd anticipated.

“Or what?” Ilya grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him close. “Will captain punish me?”

Shane swallowed hard. Fuck, his boyfriend was fucking hot. “Maybe I should.”

“Or maybe…” Ilya shook off his gloves, dropped his stick to the ice, and reached down between their bodies. “I will show my captain how to loosen the fuck up. Hm?” A burning hot palm pressed between Shane's legs, and his breath audibly caught.

Shane could practically smell the adrenaline pouring out of Ilya's body. He started to grind his hand firmly against Shane, eyes sharp and focused.

“You do not always get to win, Shane.” Ilya's voice was low and rough in his ear, and suddenly, it was like they were back in college. Back when Ilya was a constant teasing flirt, and Shane was barely holding himself together. His lips parted, his eyes closed, and he pressed himself desperately into Ilya's hand as his cock stiffened.

Ilya bit down gently on the spot beneath his ear, and Shane felt his knees go weak. “We can't-”

“Can't what?” Ilya used his other hand to grab hard at Shane's ass.

“Ilya-”

“Yes, captain?” The words purred out of him, and Shane's head fell backwards, heat pooling low in his stomach.

“Fuck.” It was the only word Shane could manage. Suddenly, Ilya was yanking him along, gliding quickly off the ice. Shane felt halfway in a daze as they rid themselves of their skates before Ilya pulled him along into the locker room, slammed the door shut behind them, and shoved Shane back against it.

Pure hunger flared in Ilya's eyes. Something hot and primal that made electricity shoot straight towards Shane's crotch. Ilya grasped him roughly by the jaw, tilted his head back, and dove into his mouth tongue first.

He could feel how tight and hard Ilya's muscles were as he crowded him, bullying him back against the door with his big body. Shane of course knew Ilya was strong, but their sexual dynamic thus far hadn't really highlighted how brutish he could really be. As with everything Ilya did, it was unbearably hot.

With sudden clarity, Shane realized they were at their fucking place of work, and Ilya's hard dick was grinding against his hip, dangerously close to his own hard dick, and this was getting out of control very fast.

“Ilya, I think we should stop-”

“Nyet.” Ilya's voice was sharp and gruff. “I think we should not. I think captain is wound up too tightly.”

And then hands were under his thighs, hauling him upwards until his legs were around Ilya's waist. Fuck, he's really fucking strong. Ilya mouthed at his neck as he carried him across the room, then deposited him so his back was on the bench, Ilya looming over top of him. His eyes were dark and Shane could imagine it was pure testosterone that was clinging to the sweat that dripped down every inch of Ilya's golden skin.

Revisiting the harsh nature of hockey had clearly flipped some kind of switch in his sweet Ilya's head tonight, but Shane was not complaining. Ilya's big body draped over top of him as teeth came to tug at his bottom lip and hands moved to pull Shane's pants down roughly.

“I always thought you were so fucking hot, Shane. Even when I did not understand what that meant.” Ilya was practically growling the words into his ear, his own pants dropping in a heap on the floor before he dragged his bare cock against Shane's. The heat and the friction made Shane inhale sharply.

“I think I would have fucked you if you asked. Would not have been able to resist it. Always loved this pretty mouth and this perfect fucking ass.”

Oh, fuck. Every fantasy from years past flooded his brain at once. If only he could explain to his past self that one day his boyfriend Ilya Rozanov would be grinding his hard dick against him in an NHL locker room. This was like his ultimate wet dream materializing before his eyes.

“Fuck, Ilya. Would have fucking let you take me in the locker room. Just like this.” Shane felt the slickness between their cocks as he leaked steadily, back bowing under the feeling of Ilya rutting them together.

“Yeah? You would let me be your slut like that? Fuck my captain right after the game because I just could not fucking help myself?” Ilya started to suck a bruise to the side of Shane's throat, and he clawed down against the wood of the bench beneath him, gasping softly.

“Yes, baby. Fuck.”

When Ilya eventually unlatched his mouth, he shifted downward, big hands coming to shove Shane's thighs up until he was practically folded in half.

“I think you would have been my slut, too. Spreading your fucking legs for me so I can fuck you like you need to be fucked.”

Without warning, Ilya's tongue was hot and wet against his hole. Shane's hand immediately flew to grasp into Ilya's hair, and fuck, they hadn't even showered yet.

Apparently, Ilya was not bothered by this in the slightest. He was moaning into Shane's ass like he was eating a damn spoonful of tiramisu. He really wasn't sure how he was going to be able to look his teammates in the eyes when they sat down on this bench, knowing Ilya had messily devoured him all over it. But that was a tomorrow problem. Right now, the feeling of Ilya's mouth had him on fucking fire.

Once Shane was a gasping mess, Ilya yanked him up to his feet, grabbed him by the hips, and maneuvered him to face his own stall. Shane gripped onto the edges of it, breath coming quick as he heard Ilya tear into something behind him.

He closed his eyes and arched his back at the feeling of a slick finger circling his hole.

“Did you really fucking bring lube?”

“Yes, kotik. I am your slut, remember? Must be ready for you always.”

Shane fucking shivered. Such a good boy he was. Ilya pressed a finger in and crowded Shane against the stall.

“Wish I could have been doing this back then. I had no idea what I was missing, Shane. Would give fucking anything to go back and make you mine.” Ilya's breath came in short bursts, two fingers now working in and out, and Shane was in heaven. He spread his legs apart a bit more, moaning at every press of Ilya's fingers.

He thought about all the times he fucking wanted to. All the secret glances he took at Ilya. All the times he had to hold his fucking breath at the things Ilya would say to him.

“Would have been all yours, baby.” Shane panted, clenching around thick fingers as he felt the lube dripping down his thighs.

His hips tilted in anticipation when he felt Ilya pull his hand back and line himself up, the head of his cock teasing against Shane's slick hole. Then he was being stretched and filled in a way that he'd only ever felt with Ilya, the hot throbbing buried deep inside of him making his eyes roll back.

Ilya's hand gripped into Shane's hair and pulled his head back, lips pressed to his ear. “You are all mine. Fucking mine, Shane.” Ilya fucked into him hard, one hand tugging his hair, the other grasped against his hip bruisingly.

Shane could hear the way his own moans came out high pitched and keening. Ilya was truly railing him, teeth clamped down on his neck like a dog.

“Ilya, oh my god-”

“You like that, captain? Like taking your good boy's cock in the locker room like a fucking slut?”

Ilya's accent had gone thicker, his hips slamming hard into Shane's ass on every thrust, and Shane's orgasm was building dangerously.

“Yes, baby. I fucking love it.” He whined, feeling himself turn into a ragdoll under Ilya's strength. When Ilya shifted slightly, he started to directly hit the spot that made Shane see stars.

He was almost drooling, head still tilted back where Ilya was gripped into his hair. Ilya grinded into him, cock throbbing, and Shane's whole body shook as his orgasm ripped through him.

He was coming completely untouched, shooting off hot spurts as he practically wailed. Ilya dug his fingers hard into Shane's hip as he whined.

“Oh my god, Shane. Did you- fuck-”

And then he could feel Ilya's body go taut as he filled him, moaning and grunting into Shane's ear, both of them trembling now.

Ilya's forehead came to rest against his shoulder as they both caught their breath, Ilya's arm slung around Shane's waist to help hold him upright.

“Baby. That was so fucking hot.”

“Yes? Was okay?” Ilya started to run his hand up and down Shane's abs, voice a bit unsure. There was his sweet boy.

“It was more than okay. I love you. So much.”

“I love you, my Shane. Thank you for tonight. I needed this.” His lips pressed gentle kisses over the bruise he'd left on Shane's neck.

“Anything for you, baby. You know that.”

Ilya hummed happily into him, and Shane turned in his arms to face him.

“But don't think because I let you take control this time that this means you're suddenly in charge.” Shane smirked, fingers sinking into Ilya's sweaty curls.

“Would not dream of it, lyubimyy.”

“That's my good boy.” Shane cooed into his ear, and felt his own heart thud at the way Ilya melted at the words.

Ilya. The Russian menace. A terror on the ice. Strong and fearsome. And his fucking baby.

He didn't even care that he just shot cum all over his own locker room stall, or that Ilya's cum currently dripping from his ass would likely end up on the floor somewhere. He could worry about clean up and ever being able to face his teammates in this room again at a later time.

For now, he was enjoying that this was his life. With Ilya against him and their heartbeats syncing into rhythm as they stood chest to chest. Love had its way of making nothing else matter at all.

Dim, warm lights set the impressive bar in an amber glow that seemed in perfect complement to the soft Christmas music floating through the speakers. Snow was falling steadily outside; accumulating in the corners of the large windows that looked out over downtown Boston. It would all be very serene if the bar wasn't packed with an entire roster of hockey players.

The team's annual holiday party was always a night to remember. Everyone dressed up, ate too much, drank even more, and usually needed to be forcibly removed as the early morning hours rolled over the city.

Shane had come straight here from a team meeting at the arena, which meant he and Ilya hadn't seen each other all day, and he was embarrassingly crawling out of his skin. Not only because he missed Ilya, but because he knew he would show up looking suave and devastating and Shane couldn't fucking wait.

He turned his head at every swing of the door, until his eyes finally landed on a sight to behold.

Ilya, dressed head to toe in midnight blue. His dress pants were tailored and hugging to his legs; his shirt silk and unbuttoned nearly halfway. His gold cross caught in the light where it was nestled just above his perfect chest, and as he turned, Shane could see the way his curls were styled really showed off the sharpness of his jawline. The man was fucking beautiful, and Shane was going to make it everyone's problem tonight.

He quickly weaved through the crowd until he was right in front of Ilya, who smelled almost as good as he looked.

“My love, look how beautiful you are.” Ilya's eyes sparkled, one hand rested on Shane’s cheek.

“Me? Baby, you literally look like a fucking European super model right now. You're killing me.”

He smiled that arresting smile and pulled Shane in for a tender kiss that left him feeling buzzed. But when Ilya went to pull back, Shane put a hand on the back of his neck and pressed their mouths together again, slipping his tongue inside languidly. He loved the way Ilya melted into him.

“You all owe me 20 bucks!” Cliff's voice boomed from nearby, followed by some frustrated groans. Shane turned his head, wiping the spit from his bottom lip with the back of his hand.

Marlow was beaming as a group of his teammates all fished through their wallets to slap bills into his open hand.

“What are you guys doing?” Shane leaned into Ilya's side when his arm snaked around his waist.

“We made a bet on how long it would be before you guys started making out. I said 30 seconds. I knew I was gonna fucking win.”

Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ.”

“Where's the betting pool on when they'll go fuck in the bathroom?” Svetlana sauntered up from behind them and gave them each a kiss on the cheek.

“Mind your business, Sveta.” Ilya stuck his tongue out at her, because they were both overgrown children. He loved them more than he could ever say.

Shane laced his fingers with Ilya's and pulled him towards the bar. He had already made the decision that he wouldn't be spending a second away from his boyfriend tonight. Not only because he looked fucking good, but because the past few weeks had been grueling, and they hadn't been able to spend nearly enough time together.

PDA wasn't typically something Shane was super fond of, but nothing about the way he felt for Ilya Rozanov was typical. Nothing about Ilya Rozanov was typical. He knew from the first moment he saw that taunting grin and messy curls. He knew when Ilya kissed him for the first time in their hotel room, desperate and messy. He knew when Ilya went halfway out of his mind for Shane on the dance floor at the wedding.

His heart belonged to Ilya, and it ran fucking wild whenever they touched. He didn't want to waste a single moment of it. Ilya sat down on a barstool, knees spread open for Shane to step between them. He slotted himself there, back to Ilya as he leaned into him, smiling to himself when big arms circled his waist and warm lips pressed to the side of his neck. Ilya didn't stop peppering little kisses there, even when the bartender came.

“My Shane.” He murmured, hugging around him tight.

“Here.” Shane reached back to hand him a glass of chilled vodka.

Ilya sat up, taking the glass and sipping it slowly. “Fuck, this is good.”

“Better be. I bought that bottle and brought it just for you.” Shane nodded at a bottle of imported Russian vodka sitting behind the bar.

“Shane. That is-”

“Expensive? Yes. But you know I like to spoil my baby.”

Ilya whined and pulled him close again, and Shane wondered if Ilya understood just how serious he was being when he said he would do anything for him. He'd buy the most expensive vodka. Make out with him in front of the owner of their fucking team. Fight his asshole rookies. Hire every immigration lawyer in Boston. Put a hit out on his stupid brother. Go after him in the first place, even though he thought he was most likely straight and he was maybe going to make a fool of himself.

Anything. He would do anything.

The way Ilya stayed plastered to his back all night only solidified that. As Shane drifted through the party, making his rounds of small talk, Ilya kept an arm firmly around his waist. Kept dropping little kisses to his shoulder and the sensitive spot behind his ear.

When the food eventually made its way out, they found themselves at a table with the whole Boston wedding crew, Shane fully in Ilya's lap.

“Remember when Cap and Roz left the wedding to fuck?” St.Simon said through a mouthful of crab cake, and Marlow threw his head back with a laugh.

“You mean when Rozzy came to the after party with a hickey the size of a fist?”

“And then later that night I heard someone who sounded suspiciously like Cap moaning like he was being possessed in the room next to me?” Hammersmith chimed in.

“If you're trying to embarrass me, it's not working.” Shane sipped his drink casually. “We did sneak off to fuck. I did give him a huge fucking hickey-”

“And then he did sit on my face and I did eat his ass so good he became possessed.”

“Ilya!” Shane hissed.

“What! You said you were not embarrassed!”

“No one needed that much detail.” Shane put a hand over his face.

“Yes, we actually fucking did.” Cliff slapped the table as he laughed.

“I need another fucking drink.”

“I will get, lyubimyy.” Ilya tapped his thigh, and Shane slid off his lap, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw.

Marlow whistled low. “Brother, you really have him trained well.”

Shane shook his head. “No training needed. He's just a sweetheart. Maybe you guys should take some fucking notes instead of making fun of him for it.”

“Oooh, you're gonna get Cap's claws.” Hammersmith elbowed Marlow, who put his hands up defensively.

“I'm not making fun-”

“No. You guys do. You bark and say walk him like a dog and ask him where his collar is. It was maybe funny the first time. But you're pushing it. If any of you make him upset, I will actually fuck you up.”

“You got it, boss.” Marlow raised his drink to him. “We're just messing around. We know you got a good one. And for what it's worth, he got a good one, too.”

That made a genuine smile come to Shane's face. He liked to think both he and Ilya got what they needed in each other. What they deserved. As Ilya strode back over to him with a smile, he felt like he was looking at sunshine personified.

“Here you go, my love.” He handed Shane a Moscow mule before settling back into his seat with his own drink in hand.

“Did we finish all that vodka already Ilyusha?” Svetlana frowned at the glass in Ilya's hand.

“Ah, no.” Ilya smiled as he took a sip. “Rum and coke is just…what do you call it? My comfort drink.” He tugged Shane into his lap, and Shane felt his heart tumble around helplessly in his chest.

Shane knew it wasn't about the drink itself. Not really. It was about the way he could always see Ilya, and the way Ilya was finally able to feel seen.

He would never forget the first time he made the drink for Ilya. He'd walked into the kitchen at that party, looking for a moment of quiet. He instead found a dejected looking Ilya, staring blankly at the bottles of liquor in front of him. It had struck Shane just how lonely he looked. How lost. It wasn't a look he was used to seeing on the bright, bold Russian. But he recognized it all the same.

Ilya had frowned at the cheap bottle of vodka on the table, and Shane got it then. Homesick. He got that feeling often himself. He couldn't imagine how bad it must get when home was half a world away. When the culture and the language and even the letters were all foreign. He remembered the way Ilya came to his side without question that night in freshman year; had somehow knew exactly what he needed.

He wanted to be that for Ilya, too.

So he mixed him a drink he figured he would like. He'd seen Ilya drink coke plenty of times, and he knew people ordered these at bars all the time. And when he slid it over to Ilya and watched him take a sip, it was like seeing a wall crack and crumble to the earth.

Their eyes met, and something passed between them that Shane would never forget. He could feel it even now, all these years later. It was like Ilya was saying you can see me.

Shane could always see him. He could see his joy and his fear. His talent and his uncertainty. Every piece of him that was brazen and fierce, and every piece of him that was attentive and sweet.

He thought of the bold, flirtatious Ilya he knew in college. Of the nervous, curious Ilya he met at the wedding. Of the loving, precious Ilya whose arm was around him right now.

No matter which version, Shane loved him. More than anything else in the world, he loved this man.

“Baby.” Shane whispered into Ilya's ear. “Can we go get some air?”

Ilya quickly tossed the rest of his drink back as Shane got to his feet. Hand in hand, they squeezed their way through the crowded bar and out into the crisp night.

A dusting of snow covered the sidewalk as they shuffled out to the side of the building; Boston starting to quiet down around them. Ilya looked up at the falling snow, and Shane put both hands to his chest to press him back against the brick building.

“You know how much I fucking love you?”

Ilya's eyes looked impossibly bright, even in the low streetlights.

“Not as much as I love you.”

Shane pressed their mouths together hard, hands grasping into strong shoulders as he licked into Ilya's mouth. He tasted like rum and coke and everything Ilya that made his heart go insane. They were both almost breathless when they pulled apart.

“You trying to argue with me, Rozanov?”

Shane bit down on Ilya's earlobe, smiling as he heard him take a shuddering breath.

“That a no?” He moved to sink his teeth in just to the side of Ilya's throat.

“No.” Ilya exhaled shakily.

Shane pulled back to look into those sweet, wide, puppy dog eyes. “That's my good boy.”

Ilya's head fell back with a whimper, and Shane smiled against his mouth. “Let's go home.”

Without saying their goodbyes to the rest of the party, they tangled themselves up into each other on the curb and waited for their Uber.

The snow fell around them as they whispered I love you back and forth; Ilya's hands around Shane's hips and his face deep into Shane's neck. Shane buried his hands in Ilya's curls, held him against himself closer, and thanked the entire fucking universe for Ilya Rozanov.

Chapter End Notes

🗣 ITS THE REMIX

surprise Shane POV 🫶

this chapter is just pure fluff and smut and joy and BAMF as a little treat and i hope yall enjoyed it

i truly enjoyed bringing this story to you and have appreciated every single kind word along the way, so THANK U from the bottom of my heart 💕💖

Works inspired by this one

Cover Art for Rum & Coke by Lizluvsbooks

[podfic] rum & coke by AnyaHollanov

"You Can Have It, Baby" Fanart for Rum & Coke by strange_ghost by IlyaRozanovsMole