Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Exhibitionism, Semi-Public Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Nude Photos, Established Relationship, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-04-02 Words: 3,073 Chapters: 1/1

Photo Strips

Summary

Shane and Ilya get freaky in a photobooth at a Troy and Harris's engagement party.

Notes

This came to me in a dream last night. I received flashes of scene images like watching a dramatic flashback in a soap opera. My sleep was not restful. Please enjoy.

Shane still preferred to avoid parties.

He wouldn't say he hated parties, not anymore. He met the Centaurs, he played alongside them, and after a solid year, he found he was comfortable in the presences of every single one of them. They were all kind and considerate, they supported his relationship with Ilya, they didn't say any nasty shit in the locker rooms, and they kept their skates on the Metros necks at every opportunity. Shane loved those guys.

But he desperately wanted to leave the engagement party early to curl up in front of the fireplace with his husband and their dog.

He couldn't, though. They had only been at the party an hour, and said husband was Troy's best man, so he had obligations. Shane could understand that. 

They rented an event hall for the party. Harris's lovely family was there, along with everyone from the team, their partners, and some non-hockey friends. Harris knew a lot of people. It was definitely going to be a big wedding. 

Shane was seated at an empty table. He was allowing himself five minutes to cool off. He just spoke with one of Harris's family members for ten entire minutes, and his battery was absolutely dead. He could scroll on his phone and sip his water alone for a couple minutes. He was allowed.

But, of course, his husband saw him sitting alone. Shane looked up to find Ilya's eyes already on him. He was talking with Troy and Nick. The music was changing and people were beginning to dance. The open bar was getting to everyone, it seemed. 

It was a nice engagement party, Shane figured. He had never been to one before. The space was nice, the lighting was romantic. The music was too loud, but that was a given. The bartender wasn't even rude when Shane asked for a water. He was having an okay time.

Ilya slid into the seat beside Shane. Shane stopped looking at Ilya when he caught Ilya staring. He didn't want Ilya to come check on him. He didn't want Ilya's conversation interrupted. He was fine, just tired.

And a bit overheated. He had already taken his jacket off, but he decided to roll up his shirt sleeves too. He knew it wasn't professional, but they were mostly among friends, so it was fine.

"Are you okay? You are being a wallflower."

Shane smiled at him.

"I'm not a wallflower, dick. I'm just taking a break. Go back to your best man duties."

"Husband duties first," Ilya said, hooking his ankle around Shane's. 

His beautiful husband leaned back in his chair. His legs were spread, his curls slightly stuck to his forehead with sweat. He took a long pull from a Corona. Shane couldn't help but watch his throat work as he swallowed the beer. 

Shane sniffed and shifted to face the dance floor. He didn't need to be leering at Ilya like that, not here. The team already had enough ammunition to pick on them with on a normal day. 

Harris and Troy were dancing together beside Wyatt and his wife Lisa. Guys were lined up at the bar, ready to do shots together. Shane sighed internally, this was going to be a very long night.

"You're tense."

"I'm fine."

"No, it's okay. I can help."

Ilya's ankle rubbed up Shane's rhythmically. Shane shuddered, his eyes sliding shut for a moment.

"We shouldn't. Not here."

"We're not doing anything," Ilya said, taking another pull from his beer. Shane glared at him, he was too damn sexy, and the bastard knew it. "We're just sitting here."

Shane knew he should move his leg away, but he didn't, because Ilya made him weak. 

Ilya stopped the contact. Shane was ready to pout when his husband hooked his ankle around the leg of Shane's chair and pulled it closer. 

The chair scraped horribly across the floor, but no one around them reacted. Shane couldn't help but wince. Ilya immediately apologized by pressing their legs together again.

"Sorry, moya lyubov. Just wanted you closer."

"Hm. That's a bad idea."

"Why? Because you can't control yourself?"

Shane glared at Ilya, which made him smile, he was so proud of himself. Shane couldn't help it, he knew he was being baited, but he bit anyway.

"Fuck you, you're the one...fondling my leg."

"Fondling?" Ilya laughed, "is that what I am doing?"

"Yes."

"You want me to stop?"

"No," Shane answered, embarrassed. Ilya's smile was killer. Shane hated him and wanted to climb into his lap in front of god and all their teammates. 

Other than the hickeys, the scratches, or the looks they gave each other, the team did not see any PDA, or any obvious evidence of romance between Shane and Ilya. In the locker room and on the ice, they kept it mostly professional. 

This professionalism was both Shane and Ilya's preference, though, Ilya was more likely to initiate contact between them, especially in public or at non-hockey related events with teammates. And that was okay, but usually, they were careful to guard their affections.

Shane couldn't help but imagine their faces if he did crawl into his husband's lap, cup his face, and kiss him like he wanted to. 

He wanted to do it after Ilya took another drink from his beer so Shane could taste the flavor as it traveled down his throat. Shane could have his own beer if he wanted, but he wasn't a huge fan of the stuff. He liked the thought of tasting it on his husband's tongue, though. He liked that idea a lot.

"You are looking at me dangerously, Hollander."

Shane's face got hot. He was so bad at keeping his thoughts inside, especially the ones regarding Ilya. That man could read him like a fucking book. It was exhilarating, to be known. And irritating, to be caught out.

Shane didn't say anything. He turned his gaze to the crowd in an attempt to school his expression, but when he looked back at Ilya, his husband shivered. 

"We can't leave yet, don't look at me like that. It makes me want to do bad things."

"Like what?" Shane asked before he could really weigh the consequences of challenging Ilya.

Ilya's gaze danced around the hall. He was surprised that the pair of them could exist in the little bubble they were in for that long without someone from the team coming to bother them.

Ilya stood. He slipped his jacket off and threw it over Shane's on the back of his chair. Ilya looked suave and mysterious. Shane stared at the curve of his lips with impure thoughts.

Ilya offered Shane his hand.

"I'm not dancing," Shane said, taking his hand and standing.

"No. It would get very...R-rated, if we did that."

Shane checked over his shoulder, but they were still in their bubble.

"Come."

Ilya led them out of the main hall. This was a space used for all kinds of events, Shane figured. Graduation parties, weddings, baby showers. It was a large, sprawling historic building. Because the space was utilized for multiple purposes, there were features available in other rooms that were not necessary for engagement parties.

The engagement party was in the main room. There were stragglers here and there, and the bathrooms were across the building, so people were making their way throughout the property. Ilya, despite being at the venue for the first time, moved them with purpose.

Shane was afraid Ilya was going to drag him for a quickie in the men's room, which was way too risky when the makeup of the party was majority hockey players, but he turned a corner into another room.

This room was clearly designed for less formal events. There was a pool table and an air hockey table. Shane saw a dart board on the wall and there was a photobooth in the corner. The room was deserted. Shane wondered when the hell Ilya had time to find it.

Ilya pressed Shane against the wall and kissed him fiercely. Shane melted into the kiss. He was slightly tense and nervous about being caught, but he was also desperate for Ilya, who he hardly got a chance to touch all day.

He touched him all over. His hands slid over his silky shirt until he could slide his palms under the neck of it and touch bare skin. 

Ilya shivered again, shoving forward, lining their crotches up perfectly. Shane gasped, this was too risky. He was getting hard, and any more contact from Ilya would leave him with an embarrassing tent in his pants.

"Hard for me?" Ilya asked against Shane's mouth. Shane lurched forward for a kiss, not noticing Ilya's hand snaking low until he was fully cupping Shane over his pants.

"Ah, Ilya. We can't. We're too exposed."

"Mmm, it's hotter that way. I know you like it." Shane twitched under Ilya's hand, making the cocky man smile. 

It might turn Shane on, but he also knew it was too dangerous. If any of their teammates found them like that, they would never live it down. 

Plus, Troy and Harris might be bothered by them getting handsy at their engagement party. This type of behavior was typically looked down upon. 

"Ilya, fuck, baby, we can't."

Ilya growled. There was no door to this room, it was open to the rest of the hall. Shane watched his eyes rake over the space before landing on the photobooth.

"Ilya," Shane began as he started to roughly pull Shane towards the booth. "Ilya, it's not really any better. There's only a small curtain-"

Ilya threw Shane into the booth and climbed in after him, sliding the little maroon curtain shut.

"Small curtain and an empty room. Is enough."

It was an uncomfortably small space. The bench was tiny, not built for two fully grown athletes, and the machine was on, so the screen was displaying images of photo examples that normal people who entered photobooths would want. 

Shane was increasingly uncaring about their circumstances as Ilya lorded over him. His dick was hard, and he could almost taste the beer Ilya drank as he licked into his mouth. 

Shane was thrusting up, trying to get any sort of friction he could from Ilya's body. Ilya was content to hold his chin with one hand and grope his chest with the other as they made out like teenagers in the photobooth.

Ilya pulled away from Shane, the lights from the screen turning his face blue. The men turned their heads at the same time to glance at the advertisement. Photos for $5! Choose a pattern for the border! Filters available!

Ilya eased back off Shane. Shane was half laying on the bench, his long legs splayed out, feet poking out from under the curtain. Ilya was on top of him, one knee on the bench, one foot braced on the ground. 

Shane didn't know what he was doing until Ilya's wallet was in his hand.

"Ilya."

"Shane," Ilya smiled, "This is fun. We make memories. We won't ever forget Troy and Harris's engagement this way."

"You want us to take photobooth pictures now?" He whined, throbbing in his pants.

Ilya inserted his card and selected a plain blue border. 

He tossed his wallet on the ground and surged forward for a passionate kiss that immediately shut Shane's brain off.

Ilya's tongue in his mouth, Ilya's lips on his face, the stupid photobooth voice saying: "Are you ready? On three!" Followed by the sound of a snapshot as they made out.

Ilya slid off the bench and kneeled on the hard metal floor of the booth. He sat up on his knees. Shane pressed his back against the wall as his legs fell open. This was a crazy bad idea.

Ilya had Shane's cock out. He stroked it as the voice started again. "Are you ready for #2? On three!"

Shane's eyes shot open in a panic, "Ilya!"

Ilya's lips closed over Shane's cock. Shane's mouth fell open in a gasp as the cheesy shutter sound effect echoed in the small space. Oh god, that photo was going to be so embarrassing-

"Oh fuck," Shane moaned, he wasn't going to last, not with the way Ilya was bobbing up and down, the plush head of his cock brushing Ilya's throat...

"Ilya-" Shane cried, embarrassed that he was going to finish this fucking fast. "Ilya you need to slow down or-"

"Are you ready for #3? On three!" 

"Oh, oh, fuck," Shane's hand crushed into Ilya's hair, holding his head in place as he came down his husband's throat. Shane could almost hear the sound of the shutter over his ears ringing. 

"Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ, get up here. Ilya, get the fuck up here."

Ilya climbed back onto the bench. Shane's hands worked on his belt as they kissed. He could feel how hard Ilya was through his pants, equally turned on by the illicitness of the activity.

"Are you ready for the last photo? Silly faces this time! On three!"

The shutter sound effect went off as Shane got his hand down Ilya's pants.

"Fuck, Shane, you're so fucking-fuck," Ilya moaned, his voice hoarse after bouncing his head on Shane's dick.

Shane freed his cock and stroked it. He spit into his hand and gripped him firmly as the photobooth made a whirling noise. The men glanced over to see the printed photos fall out of the slot under the screen.

Ilya laughed, Shane couldn't help but giggle too, but he kept stroking his husband until the smile fell from his face and his eyes went unfocused. 

"Come on, baby." Shane urged against his mouth. Their absence would not go unnoticed for this long. "Come for me, Ilya."

Shane pressed a kiss to his neck as he flicked his thumb over the head of Ilya's cock, and Ilya was coming with a low groan, hips stuttering. Shane cupped his hand over it, desperate to save their clothes.

He held his hand there until he was sure Ilya was done. Before he could tuck Ilya away, Shane licked his come off his fingers. It was the most efficient thing to do in the moment, but the taste of Ilya made his head spin. The reverent look Ilya gave him as he did it was a bonus.

Ilya shifted back until they were both seated on the bench. The room was quiet, they had not been caught. Ilya tucked himself away and Shane righted his own clothes before picking up the photos from the slot. The machine printed two sets of them.

Shane's eyes widened. It was porn. They made fucking porn at their teammate's engagement party.

He could not look away.

In the first square, Shane and Ilya were frozen, their mouths trying to swallow each other. You could see a hint of glistening tongue slide from Ilya's mouth into Shane's. Shane's heart was beating out of his chest.

In the second one, Ilya was kneeling. Shane was the obvious subject, he took up most of the square. Ilya had been bobbing on his cock like a madman, but the camera caught him with his head up high, so you could see his full head of curly blonde hair and a hint of a strong jaw, along with his broad back straining under his nice dress shirt.

The third photo was similar, but Shane was mid-orgasm, his face broken and mortifying, eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back, mouth wide open. Of Ilya, you could only see his curls buried against Shane's crotch with Shane's hand firmly holding him in place.

The fourth photo was the clearest. They were face to face, their mouths nearly touching. Ilya was straddling Shane and Shane had just gotten his hand down the front of Ilya's pants. Ilya stared at Shane with hooded eyes like he was the center of Ilya's universe.

"These are good." Ilya said, holding his own strip. "I will carry them in my wallet like people did in the old days. Before phones."

"You will not do that," Shane ordered. "If someone finds these, we're screwed. We should throw them away."

Ilya gasped dramatically. Shane knew that Ilya knew he was right, but he was also sentimental. And horny. Where Shane was (usually) guided by rational decisions made by his brain, Ilya tended to approach life equally with his heart and with his penis.

"We are not throwing them away. These are special memories. And we look so sexy."

"Oh my god, it's stupid."

"It is hot. And it's for memories, Shane. We need more printed photos together."

"Look at my face! It's-"

"Hot. It is hot. It is your orgasm face. That is my favorite face. Do not insult my favorite face."

Shane scoffed. Ilya tucked his strip of photos into his wallet, and Shane found himself doing the same. Only because it was sensitive material and would have to be disposed of properly. Not because he wanted to keep them or anything.

They climbed out of the booth, taking care to fix each others clothing and hair where it appeared disheveled.

"Maybe we got away with it," Shane said, a little giddy. 

"Yes, I think so. See? I always tell you it will be fine. We should do things like this more."

"No," Shane replied, like a fucking liar.

Ilya grinned, knowing better.

As they left the game room, the pair almost ran down Haas, Young, and LaPointe. They were carrying drinks and swaying a little, laughing amongst themselves.

"Oh, we thought you guys left," LaPointe said. "Haasy said he found a game room over here."

"Yes, in there," Ilya replied, gesturing to the room the couple just left. "There's a photobooth in there. Very fun."

Shane elbowed Ilya hard, but the guys didn't notice, they were drunk and excited as they maneuvered around them, chatting about the photobooth.

"You're a crazy person," Shane mumbled, smiling a bit as he took Ilya's arm and led him back to the main room.

"You love it," Ilya replied, grinning mischievously. 

Shane's smile widened, he did. 

"How long until we can leave?" Ilya asked as they reentered the party. "I do not know how long I can go without looking at photo #3."

"Shut up!" Shane shoved him, fond. "Be good and we can recreate #3 later."

Ilya's smile was almost sinister.