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:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Sex Tapes, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Praise, Dirty Talk, Romance, Valentine's Day

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-22 Words: 9,403 Chapters: 1/1

Shane and Ilya Film a Sex Tape

Summary

“This is why we need a sex tape. So you can see.”
“No way. You would leak it immediately.” 
“Ilya grinned, ‘Can you blame me?'" - The Long Game, page 181.
-
Shane and Ilya are so obsessed with each other they have to make a sex tape about it.

Notes

Ilya collapsed on the bed beside Shane, sweaty, panting, sexy as all hell, as usual. Shane would have rolled his eyes and possibly even blushed at his own cheesy thoughts if he had the energy to do so, but he was currently coming down off the kind of high addicts could only dream of, and he couldn’t feel his legs. 

Ilya turned on his side, grinning. He patted Shane’s chest with the palm of his hand. 

“Woo. Good game, Captain.”

“Shut up.” Shane breathed, smiling. “Captain.”  Ilya was the only captain between them now. Shane tried not to be snarky about it, but he couldn’t help it sometimes. 

Ilya leaned in and pressed a kiss to Shane’s cheekbone, which was sweet, then he nipped at the soft flesh of the apple of his cheek, which was not sweet. Shane sighed, his husband was insatiable.

Shane took his hand and squeezed, feeling Ilya’s ring, cool and smooth on his hand. Ilya smiled at him. Shane turned his head to gaze lovingly at him. 

Ilya’s grin widened and suddenly, he was on top of Shane again, sitting on his thighs. Shane’s smile had not ceased. 

“What, you wanna go again?” He teased, but Ilya was soft, and so was Shane. Round two had worn them out. They weren’t as young and hot as they once were, at 32 each. Shane felt like a grandpa most of the time. 

“Maybe,” Ilya said, even though Shane was pretty sure they were done for the night. Shane certainly felt done. 

Ilya sat back on his legs and began to massage Shane’s thighs. Shane sighed, regaining sensation under his husband’s strong hands.

“You are so beautiful.” Ilya’s deep voice rumbled over him, and fuck, maybe they were up for round three. They would be too tired after the game tomorrow to fuck like this. Unless they won, of course.

“Stop,” Shane said, feeling himself blush under the praise.

“I love how red you get.” Ilya purred and Shane felt a familiar stirring in his belly. Ilya would be the death of him. Truly. He was pretty sure, someday, they would collapse and die together in the middle of sex. Shane would die happy, if that happened. “I tell you you are beautiful how often? And still, you blush.”

“Shut up,” Shane felt hotter in the face, and Ilya sighed, his hands digging into Shane’s meaty thighs. 

“Maybe you do not believe it,” Ilya suggested. 

And, of course Shane didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. He was not wired that way, not in the slightest. He would probably spontaneously combust before gaining as much self confidence as Ilya had. 

It was embarrassing, at his age, to still have such insecurities. Even with his husband, the sexiest man in the NHL, telling him constantly that Shane was gorgeous. 

There were legions of weird hockey fans on twitter and Instagram that reposted his Calvin Klein ad from a few months ago with captions like “Shaney please come over and set my house on fire and kill me with knives,” and “Shane is so hot I actually root for fucking Ottawa.”

A few months ago, Ilya actually read them to Shane while fully sheathed inside him, grinding his hips lightly while Shane covered his beet red face and tried not to pass away from embarrassment. 

Anyway, he knew people believed he was attractive, he just couldn’t manage it himself.

“Shane, this is why we need to do my idea.”

“Your idea?” Shane asked, getting ready to buck his husband off his legs if this went south. Ilya wasn’t exactly known for having good ideas. Or safe ideas. Or smart ideas.

“We need to make a sex tape. So we can watch it and you can see what I see.”

“That would not help,” Shane said, weakly. Ilya had begun lazily stroking Shane’s dick at the start of his suggestion, seeing that Shane had, somehow, after all that, grown half-hard again.

“A video where we are extremely hot and I get to show off my sexy husband to the camera? We need this, Shane. So we can watch it for years to come.”

“Pervert,” Shane muttered, gasping the word a bit as Ilya’s thumb slipped idly over the tip of Shane’s dick. 

“Aw, look at your cock twitch,” Ilya squeezed Shane at the base, just holding him, not stroking. Shane couldn’t help the small movement of his hips seeking pleasure. Ilya laughed. “See? You like it.”

“I like you, asshole.” Shane crumbled and covered his face with his hands. He was about to start begging when Ilya started stroking him again. 

“You love me.” Ilya said. Shane dropped his hands and stared into his husband’s beautiful eyes. 

“I do,” Shane said. 

Ilya smiled. Shane could see his cock, hard and abandoned between Ilya’s naked legs. 

“Here,” Shane said, motioning for Ilya.

Ilya didn’t move. 

“No, want to do it like this.” He smiled, slowing down his movements. Shane whined, his eyes kept flicking between his husband’s own eyes and his dick. 

“So pretty, still needy after two orgasms. You want to suck my dick?”

Shane nodded, after, in the shower. 

“Tell me.”

“I want to suck your dick, Ilya.”

“We need to film this, need to film you coming undone under me, begging for my cock. Would be very hot, moya lyubov.” 

God, Shane was close. It hadn’t been that long, either. It was actually building impossibly fast, after just going two rounds. 

Ilya could tell, his other hand had been kneading his thigh, but he let Shane’s leg go in favor of playing with his balls.

“I can see how much you like the idea, Shane. You want to do it.”

“We shouldn’t,” Shane moaned. “It’s a horrible idea.”

“Yes,” Ilya agreed, “But it would be so. fucking. hot.” Ilya practically growled the words, and Shane came all over Ilya’s fist.

Later, after the shower, when they were both actually too tired to go again, Shane said:

“We really can’t, Ilya. It would ruin us. We’re too high profile. After being outed, and playing on the same team…there are too many eyes on us right now.”

Ilya sighed.

“I know, it is a dumb idea. But it would be very fun, and I’d love to watch it when we’re old and grey and can no longer fuck like rabbits.” 

Shane melted into Ilya’s arms, he loved when Ilya talked about their life together, even when it was complaints about being unattractive and needing Viagra. 

That was the second time Ilya brought it up. The third time was a month later, about a week into the new year.

They won their game against New York. It had been a home game, Shane’s parents came to support them. David wore a Hollander jersey and Yuna wore a Rozanov jersey. The kiss cam landed on them during half time and they showed off their outfits, so that blew up on fan twitter for a bit, a reminder of just how public they were.

They had a nice family dinner where Ilya’s foot kept brushing against Shane’s ankle, before very intentionally rubbing Shane’s ankle, and somehow subtly managing to move up Shane’s pant leg so their bare skin touched all night…

Shane pushed Ilya against their front door as soon as they walked in. Anya had perked up from her bed, but immediately put her head back down. 

“That was a dirty trick,” Shane said, his hands hold Ilya firmly, under his coat.

“What?” Ilya asked, “My hat trick tonight? Or when we faked out Vaughn?”

“You know what.” Ilya smiled.

“Yes, I know what. It is not my fault my husband is so easy, an innocent little touch gets him hard and leaking into his pants.”

“Shut up, I was not hard. You spent the whole night talking to dad about some article. It was boring.” Shane said, using Ilya’s favorite word. Ilya’s grin did not falter. 

“You were not hard, that’s why you’re nearly humping my leg like a dog right now.” 

Shane, the easiest man who has ever walked this earth, glared at his husband but could not ignore his urges anymore. He sank to his knees on the welcome mat and started ripping at Ilya’s belt.

Ilya gasped, then giggled.

“Something you want?”

“Yes,” Shane said simply, just getting Ilya’s pants open. He hiked his shirt up and and sat up on his knees to press a sloppy kiss to his abdomen. He was rubbing the flat of his hand over Ilya’s prominent bulge.

“Maybe I did it on purpose. Wanted you like this.”

“Maybe?” Shane scoffed, flicking his thumb over Ilya’s slacks, where the head of his cock lay under two layers of fabric.

“Okay, not maybe. I love when you get slutty. You are…fuck.” Shane started to mouth over the fabric, wanting Ilya to stain through his clothes a little. It would give him immense satisfaction to break Ilya’s unbothered exterior. “You are-such a slut, vozlyublennyy.” 

Shane whined a little. Ilya’s hand was immediately in his hair, yanking his head back to meet his eyes.

Shane looked, as he usually did, totally cock-drunk. His pupils were blown wide, his mouth was hanging open, he was panting like someone was touching him, and his cheeks were pink as ever. 

“Say it,” Ilya ordered.

“I’m your slut,” Shane said, his voice pitchy, desperate, and embarrassing. 

Ilya growled and tugged his hair a little. Shane grabbed Ilya by the waistband of his boxers. Forcefully, he yanked them down, pulling Ilya off the wall. 

A little harsher than absolutely necessary, Shane shoved him back against the door by his hips. He took Ilya in his mouth hungrily. 

“Fuuuck Shane. God.” Ilya’s fingers dug deep into Shane’s hair as Shane bobbed eagerly on his cock. 

Shane loved this, he loved sucking cock, but he loved sucking his husband’s cock especially. Ilya used to tell him he looked his happiest on his knees, and that’s where he felt his happiest too. Under Ilya, pleasing him, tasting him…this was Shane’s personal paradise.

“Shane, god. You…mmm.” Shane loved making Ilya like this, unable to talk. He was usually so fucking verbal. He loved reducing him to a puddle of mush. Shane loved knowing he could do that to him, that he could shut his brain off for a little bit.

Shane pulled back to lap pathetically at the tip, stroking him all the while. He had spit on his chin, Shane was being sloppy, but he couldn’t help it. 

He pressed a kiss under the head of his cock before dipping down to take Ilya’s balls in his mouth.

“Ah, fuck,” Ilya moaned as Shane took a little time to play with his balls, his cock red and leaking just above Shane’s face. 

“Gonna come, Shane,” Ilya said. Shane tried not to be disappointed but also tried not to be smug at the same time. He wanted this to last, but getting Ilya close as fast as he could...Shane knew he was good at this; he knew was talented. 

“I want to come on your face.”

“No,” Shane said. 

“Shane,” Ilya whined. But Shane wanted to taste him, he wanted to swallow Ilya down. 

Shane took Ilya back in his mouth. Ilya gasped. He hollowed his cheeks, remembering Ilya once called Shane his “pretty little vacuum” in Russian. He insisted it was more romantic in Ilya’s language than Shane’s, but Shane knew this wasn’t true.

Shane tasted the first salty spray of Ilya’s come in his mouth before Ilya yanked him back. Shane hadn’t been sufficiently holding onto him to anchor himself in place, so he went, falling back on his heels as Ilya’s come spattered all over his face. He felt it land on his lips, his cheek, even his hair, before it was over. And damn, it was hot. 

Shane sat back, looking up at Ilya for a second, before he felt his own pressing need.

He ripped his fly down, he had his cock in his hand a second.

“Shane,” Ilya said, reverently. One, two, three strokes, and he was coming all over the welcome mat, narrowly missing Ilya’s pant legs.

That was irresponsible of him, but he wasn’t exactly thinking in the moment.

Ilya gasped and hauled him up. Still covered in his husband’s seamen, Ilya pulled him in for a desperate kiss. 

“You are so fucking hot, Shane Hollander,” Ilya whispered against his lips. He pulled back, scooping a bit of the come off his cheek with his thumb, he pressed it against Shane’s bottom lip. Shane sucked it in greedily, closing his eyes, enjoying it.

“You always manage to surprise me.” 

Shane pulled back to make serious eye contact with Ilya.

“We need to buy a new welcome mat.”

Ilya and Shane cackled all the way to the bedroom. 

Afterwards, in the kitchen, Shane was sitting on an island stool while Ilya was pouring himself a drink. Anya padded over lazily and laid down beside the legs of the stool, looking up at him. 

“Sorry girl, no more treats tonight.” Shane said, as Ilya had already given her about twenty. Ilya gasped dramatically.

“Anya can have all the treats she wants. She deserves them.”

“You spoil her,” Shane said, smiling. Ilya smirked and sipped his vodka.

“You spoil me,” His head bobbed to the side, in the direction of the front door. Shane ducked his head instinctively, though he was not embarrassed. 

“You should see yourself, when you get like that. You become…like an animal. A man on a mission.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Shane shrugged, embarrassed now.

“I’ve never known anyone else so determined to have a dick in their mouth.”

“Okay, Ilya, I get it. I’m a whore, you’ve said.”

“You’ve said.” Ilya was so damn smug. 

“It’s not like you don’t like it too. Sucking dick.” Shane stuttered a little, but he got the words out. Ilya looked proud of him.

“Da, yes. We are very eager for each other. Would make the sex tape very good.”

Shane sighed, “Ilya-”

“Yes, yes, I know. It would destroy our careers and we would become hockey pariahs.”

“Yes, exactly.” Shane said.

“But, that is only if it got leaked. Who is going to leak it?”

“I don’t know, a hacker?”

“A hacker?”

“Or Hayden, somehow, probably,” Shane muttered, mostly joking.

“You would show Pike our sex tape?”

“Of course not.”

“I do not think he would like it. He would probably cry, because he would realize how bad at sex he is.”

“Ilya.”

“Or it would turn him gay, and he would have to divorce Jackie and go be bad at gay sex.”

“Ilya.”

Ilya laughed, and Shane couldn’t help a little chuckle, even if it was at his best friend’s expense. 

“We would be careful. Keep it in a safe, off the computer. Someday, we will be very old, and we will not have the stamina we have now, and I will not be this sexy. You will be, of course, you will be a very sexy daddy figure-”

“Oh my god.”

“We will want something to look back on fondly, to relieve our glory days.” Ilya frowned, suddenly, he seemed very serious. “I will want you to remember how sexy your husband was.”

Shane frowned. He took the glass from Ilya’s hand to hold it.

“Ilya, you know you will be hot in your nineties.”

“Probably,” Ilya said. “But we should still make sex tape. Just in case.”

After that conversation, Shane hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It was on his mind morning, noon, and night. He thought about watching it back: Ilya pushing his head into the mattress, hearing himself whine and beg, seeing Ilya’s face while he came inside Shane.

Shane shivered. He was on the ice, at practice with his team. Ilya was across the rink talking with Haas animatedly. He thought about the red blinking light distracting him while he tried to choke himself on Ilya’s cock-

“Hey!” It was Bood, he was suddenly in front of him. How long had he been there? “Wake up, man. The puck slid right by you.”

“Oh, shit,” Shane started skating away. Bood followed him.

“That’s not like you, to zone out during practice. Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Shane lied easily. But everything was not okay.

Because suddenly, Shane was on the bench in the locker room pricing heavy duty, uncrackable, fireproof safes. He was doing this while imagining their imaginary sex tape playing on the bedroom television while Shane rode Ilya until his legs shook. 

This was bad. 

It was turning him on immensely, the thought of what they do together being recorded. Ilya had always toyed with a bit of exhibitionism. In his dirty talk, not in actual practice, and it did get Shane off, even if it also embarrassed him. The idea of having physical proof of…of what they do together…of watching it back.

Of having it. On a tape. Or, a disc rather. Or an SD card This wasn’t the fucking 1980s. But, having it, having something that someone could conceivably find. Could watch for themselves…

He ordered the safe. Then, he ordered a new camera, and suddenly, he had a plan. 

He hadn’t told Ilya, he decided he wanted it to be a surprise. And also, he could back out and pretend like he never got so fucking conceited, and also, deliriously in love with his husband, that he would consider recording a fucking sex tape. 

The plan was for Valentine’s Day. It worked out that year, they had no game on the day, and they didn’t have one the day after. Ilya announced, a week before the holiday, that they would be spending it in bed for two entire days. What he said exactly was:

“None of you assholes call or text. Shane and I aren't getting out of bed until Sunday game.” 

He announced this to the entire locker room, which promptly groaned in unison. 

“Ilya!” Shane scolded, turning red enough he could not face his teammates.

“You are all very jealous, I know. None of you have sexy Shane Hollander for husband.”

“Pass!” Hayes said, then: “no offense Shane. I’m sure you’re very, um-”

“It’s okay, Hayes,” Shane said, wanting to fall through the floor. 

Ilya was suspicious when Shane denied him sex the morning of Valentines Day. He was worked up, and Shane was too. But Shane wanted to save their energy for the surprise. The one he was shaking out of his skin for. 

Shane insisted Ilya go to this bakery near their home for some pastries. 

“You will not eat them,” Ilya said, brows furrowed.

“But you will, and they’re really good. And…it’s Valentines Day. Maybe I’ll have one. Or half of one.”

Shane was crashing and burning. Ilya just looked amused now, his eyebrows were sky high and he had a smirk on his face.

“And you’re not coming? What will you be doing?”

“I need to take Anya for a walk.” She was standing by the door, waiting. She was an impatient little thing.

“Uh huh. Okay,” Ilya said easily. Just as he was about to head out, Shane rushed up to him. 

“Wait! Here,” Shane said, shoving a folder of miscellaneous papers at him. His mom needed them for her records, but it wasn’t super pressing. “Drop these off at my parents on the way. I let them know you would be stopping by.”

“Shane, it is very obvious you are planning something.”

“What?” Shane scoffed, afraid he might be blushing, he shoved his hands in his back pockets. “No, I’m…I’m not. Mom just needs those papers, and Anya needs her walk. And you need to get going before they sell out.”

“I am very curious, but I will go. I will be gone about an hour.”

Shane winced, “An hour and a half?”

Ilya chuckled. “An hour and a half. Sure. You better not be sneaking your mistress in here to have valentine’s sex in that time.”

Shane rolled his eyes and pulled his beautiful, wonderful, sexy, annoying husband in for a kiss. 

“Bye,” Ilya whispered against his lips. Shane resisted the urge to fall into his arms. He had to resist that urge every moment of every day, so it was not that hard. 

He did take Anya for a walk, but just around the block. She trotted happily along, in no hurry to go home. Shane was, though. He had a whole plan. A cheesy, stupid, embarrassing, possibly life-ruining plan. 

He was shaking as he stripped the sheets off the bed, replacing them with brand new silk sheets in the shade blood red. He set up the tripod and the new camera with a confidence that only comes from him obsessively studying the instructions the evening before. How he managed to hide all this from Ilya these last couple of weeks was beyond him.

He folded their comforter and set it aside in their closet, then, he removed anything from the background that wouldn’t look pretty on camera. 

“God, like it matters,” Shane mumbled. The only things on their nightstands were lamps and a bottle of lube. Shane turned the lamps on and shut off the big light. He checked if the lighting was adequate on camera. It was.

He lit a few candles, but he kept them on the dresser. Sometimes, when they were too passionate, they knocked things off the nightstand. Shane did not want to risk a house fire while filming their sex tape. 

Finally, when Ilya was about due home, Shane ripped open a bag of dried rose petals he bought while blushing profusely at a local florist. They were pink, and they showed up in stark contrast against the red sheets.

Oh god, was that weird? Shane looked at them scattered on the bedspread and wondered if rose petals were just something people talked about and didn't actually do.

When Ilya did not come home at the time Shane expected, he obsessively arranged the rose petals in a heart shape. Then he stared at it, wondering if he had gone insane.

Finally, he changed into black slacks and a grey cashmere sweater. It was an outfit he looked nice in. Ilya loved the sweater, and he wanted to look nice for the second or two he would be clothed on camera.

“Shaaaaaane,” He heard Ilya call out, the front door shutting behind him. Shane realized he had just been standing in their bedroom staring at the tripod. “I am back from the nonsense errands!”

Shane left their bedroom and found Ilya in their kitchen, putting away food from paper bags.

“I bought groceries while I was out. I am cooking dinner tonight, since you are doing something suspicious and secretive for me...that involves you dressing up so pretty,” Ilya added, eyeing Shane up and down. 

“Shut up.” Shane mumbled, “What did you get?”

“Ingredients,” Ilya said, because he loved to be difficult. “What have you been up to?”

“I walked Anya,” Shane said, giving it back to him. 

Ilya smiled “Uh huh.” He looked to where Anya was sleeping in her dog bed.

“I almost forgot,” Ilya said, “I got you…” he lifted a huge bouquet of flowers from where they were sitting on the counter, hiding behind a paper bag.

Shane melted. He didn’t much care for flowers, but they did brighten up the house a lot. And the gesture was sweet. 

He walked around the island and presented them to Shane.

“Your favorite,” he said. “Lillies.”

“Oh my god!” Shane shouted, grinning. Ilya looked very pleased with himself. “Jesus Christ, Rozanov. Find a vase.”

They put the rest of the groceries away, Shane tended to the flowers, and allowed Ilya to walk him through the dozen pastries he bought. 

“Too many, Ilya.” Shane said.

“Wasn’t sure what the surprise was, if we would be entertaining or something. A Valentine’s orgy.”

“You don’t even care about this holiday!”

“Of course I do!” Ilya protested, pretending to be aghast. “I care about all sex holidays. Valentines, Halloween, Earth Day-”

“Earth day?”

“Earth day, of course.” Ilya shrugged. 

Shane couldn’t take it anymore.

“Surprise now?” Ilya asked, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to Shane’s lips.

Shane smiled. “Yeah. It’s in the bedroom.”

“Ooo,” Ilya grinned, “I like it already.”

Shane trailed behind him, both nervous about what his reaction would be, and highly anticipating getting fucked into the mattress. 

Ilya stopped dead in the middle of the room. The lighting was really working for the mood, it seemed like some kind of…some kind of freaky sex dungeon. And with the camera pointed at the bed…oh god. What if Ilya had been joking?

“Shane, what is this?”

“Um…” Ilya turned around to look at him, looking serious for one horrifying moment. Then, Ilya’s eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back. “Surprise.” Shane said weakly.

“There is a camera pointed at our bed.”

“Yes.”

“And a lopsided heart of pink flower petals.”

“Mhm. Wait, it's not lopsided.”

“Shane Hollander, are you asking me to make a sex tape with you?”

Shane remembered, a little hysterically, the night he proposed to Ilya, surrounded by about a million fake flickering candles, terrified Ilya would say no.

“Yes.”

Ilya’s face broke out into a wide grin, then, he started laughing. 

“Fuck off, I thought it would be fun!” Shane said, laughing along with him.

“No, it will be fun. It will be very fun. Hollander, you have just made all my dreams come true.”

“Um, okay. I feel like you should have said that when we got married, not when we’re about to fuck on camera.”

“We are. We are going to fuck on camera. You are okay with this?” Ilya asked gently. He reached for Shane, his hand resting on his side, stroking lightly over his soft sweater.

“I am more than okay with it,” Shane admitted. “Um. Nothing will be digital. We will have one physical copy, and I upgraded our safe. I already moved all our important documents to it and got rid of the old one…what?” Ilya's smile was growing, his eyes were sparkling.

“I am so in love with you. You did all this for us.” 

Shane took a moment to just stand there with him, the love of his life. He felt his anxieties relaxing. He loved Ilya, he was excited to do this for him. For them, really. Shane couldn’t go on pretending he didn’t want it as much as Ilya did.

“Do you have a plan on how we start?” Ilya asked. “Is a camera man going to pop out of the closet?”

“No,” Shane said. “Um, I figured we just start like any other…”

“Fucking session?” Ilya asked. Shane just looked him. “Like any other day of love making?”

“Ugh, gross.” Ilya laughed.

“Any other day, but with the camera on, showing you off, how good of a slut for me you are."

Shane barely stopped himself from visibly shuddering. 

Ilya moved in closer to Shane, resting his palm on his cheek.

“How much you like to show off. How your cock leaks like a fountain all over the sheets while I fuck you.”

“Ilya…” Shane couldn’t resist the siren call of Ilya’s plush pink lips right in front of him. Ilya allowed the kiss but pulled away.

“Gonna show the camera how you’re hard and tenting those expensive pants at the thought of being recorded?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m…” Shane grit his teeth for a moment. He was a man in his thirties, he could say these words. “I’m hard-”

“And tenting your pants.”

“And, fuck you, tenting my pants, because I am about to fuck my beautiful husband on Valentine’s Day.”

Ilya smiled, but couldn’t not be himself, not ever. “Get fucked by, but close enough.”

“Oh my god, go to hell,” Shane said, shivering as Ilya slid his hands under the loose cuffs of his sweater.

Okay, Shane decided. If he didn’t turn the camera on now, they never would.

Shane broke away from Ilya to start recording. There should be enough memory for at least two rounds. Maybe three, if the way Shane’s erection was feeling was any indication, round one would be over quickly. 

He felt Ilya’s eyes on him as he pressed record. He walked in front of the camera, knowing it was getting an embarrassing close-up of his face. There would be no denying it was he and Ilya in the video. He saw the light was on. He walked behind the camera and fiddled with it. It was perfectly centered and said recording. His stomach was full of butterflies. They were doing this.

Ilya walked to the edge of the bed, only in frame enough for the camera to pick up the side of his arm. 

“Flower petals are so pretty, maybe we should not mess them up.”

“Shut up,” Shane breathed out a laugh. He was still behind the tripod. Ilya turned to look at him. Through the viewfinder, he saw Ilya’s big, muscly arm lift to beckon him.

“Moya lyubov, come here," his voice deep and gravely with lust.

Shane went. Ilya put two hands on his waist and walked him back until they were in front of the camera. Standing directly in front of it, all the camera would pick up would be their torsos, down to their upper thighs, most likely. It would not capture the adoring way Ilya was looking at Shane, and that was a tragedy. 

Ilya cupped Shane’s face. He stroked his thumbs over his cheekbones. Shane thought, for a moment, that he should do something, put on a little extra performance for the camera. As if Ilya could read his mind, he said:

“Forget it is even there. Let go, Shane.”

Shane nodded. He fisted his hand in the front of Ilya’s shirt to pull him in. Shane kissed him with a sigh of contentment. Ilya kept the kisses small, light, until Shane felt the familiar tongue on his bottom lip. He couldn’t help but fall into the kiss, he couldn’t help but push closer to Ilya, to slide his hands under his shirt. Ilya’s hand went south, to the bulge in Shane’s pants. Shane gasped, breaking the kiss. 

“So hard already. Because of our friends, yes?”

So much for forgetting the camera was there. Shane rolled his eyes. Ilya’s hand was on his dick, he could feel how much he loved it. 

Shane glanced over at the camera. They were definitely too tall for it to be getting their faces in their current position.

Shane ran his hands up Ilya’s arms, he felt goosebumps rise as he rubbed. Gripping him by his elbows, he pulled Ilya back in to make out some more. Ilya's fingers found Shane’s nipples through his clothes. Shane sighed and gasped as Ilya toyed with him. Ilya’s laugh was throaty. Shane knew he was about to say something impossibly lewd. Shane couldn’t take it anymore.

He tore Ilya’s shirt off. He wanted him naked, now. He took a second to run his hands over the ridges and bumps of Ilya’s gorgeous physique before sinking to his knees.

“Jesus,” Ilya said. Shane looked up and saw Ilya staring at the camera, as if he couldn’t believe it was really there, that Shane would actually go to his knees like this, in front of it.

Shane rubbed Ilya’s thighs and pushed his face against his bulge, rubbing over it.

“God, you’re-like a damn cat or something.” Ilya laughed, then said something hurried under his breath.

Shane had officially entered the territory of horny where he would do absolutely anything. He knew this about himself, and he knew it was a dangerous quality, but he never really got around to fixing it. He was being recorded? He couldn’t give two shits, it could be livestreamed to the world for all he cared, he just needed to get Ilya’s cock in his mouth. 

He didn’t bother pulling Ilya’s pants all the way down. He wanted to do that later, strip him down in all his glory. Even though, at this angle, he was pretty sure the way Ilya’s cock sprang loose from his jeans was captured, as was Shane’s plush lips sliding onto the head.

Shane wanted it wet and messy. Slobbery, Ilya would say, which always made Shane cringe when wasn’t in this specific headspace. Shane relaxed on it, just letting it sit in his mouth a moment. He could taste Ilya everywhere. Ilya’s hand was in his hair, not urging him forward. He held eye contact with his husband. In one quick swoop, he sank as far down as he could. He felt Ilya bump the back of his throat. Shane felt calm rush over him. 

“Shane, always happiest on your knees,” Ilya whispered lovingly. He was right, of course. 

Shane pulled back to suck gently on the tip. He knew Ilya got especially sensitive right under the head, moreso when he was close to finishing. 

“Mmm, fuck, Shane. So good. So pretty with my cock in your mouth.” Shane soaked in the praise. He opened his eyes to meet Ilya’s again and Ilya moaned. Shane felt him twitch in his mouth. Ilya was close, it was coming faster than they both anticipated. Heightened excitement from the camera, maybe.

Shane really, really didn’t want to come in his pants and have it recorded forever. He pulled back off Ilya, missing the weight of his huge cock between his lips immediately. He jerked him lightly, staying where he was, sitting back on his heels.

“Fuck, you want me to come on your face, Hollander?” 

Shane shook his head. 

“Okay, we need to-mess up the flower petals. Fuck.”

Shane stood up, abandoning Ilya’s reddened, weeping cock in favor of shoving his tongue down his throat. Ilya groped him over his pants weakly. 

“Why are your clothes still on?”

Shane stepped back. He led Ilya to the side of the bed and shoved backwards, immediately ruining the stupid, cheesy heart. 

Shane stood there a moment and just looked at Ilya. There were rose petals stuck to his arms where he landed, he was attempting to get his pants all the way off. Shane knew Ilya was perfectly in the shot.

“I love you,” Shane said, barely a whisper.

“I love you too, take your clothes off.”

“Okay,” Shane chuckled. He removed his sweater first. Ilya came to sit on the edge of the bed, opening Shane’s pants for him because he was a helpful guy. 

He immediately shoved a big hand down the front of them, gripping Shane over his boxers.

“God, fuck,” Shane whined, not expecting something as simple as Ilya’s firm hold on his dick to send shockwaves through his body. 

“You are not going to last.”

“No,” Shane said, because he wasn’t. 

“Pants, now.”

“Okay, but…”

Ilya waited only a second. 

“But what?”

“You first, okay?”

Ilya looked down at himself. 

“I am already naked.”

“No, just, shut up. You first.”

“Ah,” Ilya said, understanding. “You want me to come in your mouth. Down your throat.”

Shane nodded.

“So, say it. Let everyone hear it.”

Shane could feel the embarrassing wet spot in his underwear.

“I want you to come down my throat. I need you to.”

Ilya smiled. “Strip first.”

Shane stripped down everything but his boxers as Ilya watched. Ilya leaned back on the bed, grinning at his husband while Shane folded his nice sweater up and set it aside. 

Shane kneeled on the edge of the bed. Ilya ran a finger over the damp tip over his cockhead. Shane shivered.

Shane eagerly took Ilya in his mouth again. This time, he didn’t hold back. He wanted Ilya’s come in his mouth now. He could taste the pre, Shane was surrounded by the smell of him. It was everywhere, he was overwhelmed by it. Ilya was gone, murmuring sweet things to him as Shane bobbed up and down, mostly in Russian, sometimes in English. Shane knew he called him my beloved or my love, but sometimes he called him sweetheart in English. Or even just sweetie, which made Shane cringe but secretly wish to hear it more. 

He pulled back to suckle the tip, his other hand was skillfully playing with his husband’s balls. He could tell by the way Ilya was twitching in his mouth, holding back from rolling his hips, and whispering loving praises, that Shane was about to get what he wanted.

Shane held his eye contact as he slid down again, until Ilya was firmly at the back of Shane’s throat.

“Fuck, Shane, so good, I’m gonna come.”

His fingers dug into Shane’s hair, he cried out a Russian expletive. Shane felt the hot, salty release jet into his mouth, down his throat. His eyes rolled back with the force of it. He was on the brink, if he so much as rolled his hips once, he would come in his underwear.

“Fuck, Shane, get up here.” Shane climbed on top of him and kissed him. Ilya yanked a pillow down from the top of the bed and shoved it under his head. 

“Come here, like this. Want it like this,” Ilya said, patting his own chest. Shane straddled it. Ilya’s torso was so wide that Shane felt the burn in his thighs to hold the position. They couldn’t do it like this often, it wasn’t the most efficient way to give head, but Ilya knew Shane didn’t have long. Ilya knew what sucking dick did to his husband. 

“Fuck, look at you, so wet and sticky,” Ilya laughed, peeling back his boxers. “You love it.”

Shane nodded, sliding forward a little more, until the head of his cock was on Ilya’s bottom lip. 

Shane braced himself on Ilya’s shoulder. This position was a lot easier when he had the headboard to cling to, but they were in the wrong position on the bed for that.

It didn’t matter.

“Fuck, oh, fuck, Ilya.” Ilya took Shane in his mouth. In this position, Ilya couldn’t do much but be fed Shane’s cock. Shane rolled forward slightly. Ilya patted his thigh, then slapped it. A demand. 

He moved forward again, until Ilya’s face was flush with his pubic hair. He pulled back. Ilya’s tongue swirled the head of his dick. His hands reached to grope Shane’s ass, spreading him open. 

“Oh, oh, god. Ilya, I’m-” it was too late for a warning, Shane was coming hard. He grabbed Ilya and hunched forward, gasping and moaning almost directly in his ear. 

Shane stayed like that for a moment, before he realized his cock was still in Ilya’s mouth. Ilya didn’t seem to mind. He looked drunk on it, his eyes heavy, unable to leave Shane’s face. There was a bit of come at the corner of his mouth. Shane scooped it off with his thumb and, unthinking, pressed it to Ilya’s tongue.

Shane pulled back then, breathing evening, sensation returning. His legs spread more until one was hanging off the bed, his chest rested on Ilya’s. He started laughing. 

Ilya laughed too. They were in a fit of giggles that fed off each other. It took a full two minutes for either of them to be able to speak.

“We did it,” Ilya breathed, grinning. His hands were running through Shane’s hair. Shane lifted his face from where it was buried in Ilya’s neck. 

“That was so fucking hot.”

They both turned to look at the camera.

“You would make a very good porn star. Very slutty,” Ilya said, patting his cheek.

“Me! You’re the one always going ‘Da, I am so good at sex, Hollander and I never leave bed,’” his poor imitation of what Ilya said in the locker room only made Ilya laugh. 

“Your accent is improving."

“Is it?”

“No.” 

Shane chuckled, Ilya traced a familiar line on his face, connecting his freckles, Shane knew. “I love you,” Shane said, kissing him lightly.

“I love you,” Ilya said, with feeling. Shane felt the words flutter through him.

He got up to turn off the camera and save memory between rounds and left for the kitchen. He came back to the bedroom with two glasses of water. Ilya was laying sprawled across the bed, fully on display, like the subject of an oil painting. He had retrieved his phone from somewhere.

“Here,” Shane said, handing him the water. Ilya sipped it.

“Bood texted a photo of the beach they are at.” Ilya said, showing his screen in a flash.

“Nice.” 

“Yes, I send him back photo of the bed. I told him the heart got messed up, but was nice. Only a little lopsided.”

“Ilya, you did not.” Ilya grinned.

“No, but it would make everyone very jealous. My beautiful husband has given me everything I have always wanted.” 

Ilya tossed his phone to the side. The slippery silk sheets made it immediately slide onto the floor. They watched it go.

“These are nice sheets.”

“You like them?”

“Yes, red suits you.” 

Ilya reached behind Shane, pulling a rose petal from his arm.

“And pink.” He grinned, Shane ducked his head, smiling.

Ilya took their glasses and put them his nightstand. He rubbed Shane’s jaw.

“Sore?”

“No,” Shane said. There was a slight ache, but nothing he wasn’t used to. 

“Hm, so pretty. Kiss,” Ilya said, which Shane happily gave.

The candles on the dresser were burning low as Shane slipped his tongue into his mouth. Shane was leaning over Ilya, he was ready to climb on top again when Ilya pushed him down, his crucifix hanging between them. They kissed slowly, only for a moment, before the action became hungry and desperate.

“Hard already?” Ilya asked, “My insatiable husband.”

“You are too,” Shane said.

“We are a good match.” Ilya grinned, and ducked down to nip at Shane’s jaw. 

“Fuck, Ilya, if you give me a hickey we will never hear the end of it.”

“I think you would like that. You like being shown off.”

Shane whimpered as Ilya’s teeth grazed his neck. Shane titled his head, giving him access despite what he just said. Ilya laughed.

He sat up.

“We go slow this time. Go turn the camera on.”

Shane got up as soon as Ilya would let him, crossing the room to hit record. Again, he looked at Ilya in the viewfinder, obviously tousled, obviously recently...for lack of a more accurate word, fucked.

“You look very professional over there,” Ilya commented. Shane shook his head, ignoring him. 

Ilya grabbed the bottle of lube off Shane’s nightstand as Shane came over. The candles flickered as he passed them. 

“Lay down, sweetheart,” Ilya said, sliding over so Shane could lay on his side of the bed. 

Shane did as he was told, laying flat on his back. Ilya leaned over him, rubbing his pectoral firmly. Shane’s cock was hard again, standing proudly against his stomach. Ilya was getting there himself. Shane almost wanted to suck him off again, but he wanted to feel it inside him more. 

Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s jaw. Shane reached for him, pulling him closer, forcing his lips up for a kiss. Slower. They could do slower. Until it became too much, of course. Until neither man couldn’t take it anymore. 

Ilya sucked on Shane’s neck. It was sudden, and so harsh Shane flinched and scolded; “Ilya! Now everyone’s going to see it.” Ilya licked over where a bruise was no doubt forming

“Let them. They will be so jealous their dicks will explode.”

Shane scoffed. Ilya stared down at Shane’s neck. “Maybe a couple more.”

“Ilya.”

“Two or three.”

“Ilya!”

“Fine, five or six. God, you really are slutty.”

Shane resisted the urge to push his husband off and call him an asshole, because all this was really, really doing it for him. 

Ilya attacked the other side of his neck. Shane couldn’t do much more but hold on for the ride, ghosting kisses over whatever pieces of flesh he could while Ilya ate him alive.

He moved on from his neck, finally, pressing kisses down his sternum. He slid to the side to roll Shane’s nipple between his teeth. Shane’s ignored cock was leaking against his stomach. 

Ilya hovered over it, staring up at Shane. Ilya huffed a breath at it before, suddenly, letting spit fall out of his mouth onto his cock.

“Red really does suit you,” He said, stroking it, thinking he was so clever.

“God, shut up. Fuck.” 

Ilya released his cock. Smiling. He turned to the camera, motioning towards Shane’s dick.

“You see, world? My husband leaks come like a hose.”

Shane wiggled on the bed freeing his arm so he could flip Ilya off.

Ilya smirked and continued his trip south. 

Hands on the back of Shane’s legs. They were going to do this? On camera? 

Shane held his legs up, presenting to Ilya, who, thankfully, continued to block his view of the lens as his tongue circled Shane’s hole.

Shane spasmed, gasping. 

“So sensitive,” Ilya murumered. 

He licked Shane again, a solid stripe, before going back to circling. Shane watched him pull back to stare at it, as if Shane’s hole held the secrets of the universe.

“I need to fuck you,” Ilya growled. The lube had been beside him on the bed. He flicked open the cap and squeezed a generous amount on his fingers.

Shane wanted to whine that it wasn’t necessary, that he could just fuck him, split him open, hurt him, but he held back. That was a little much. 

Ilya maneuvered Shane was so he was more in the center of the bed before pushing a finger into him. 

Shane sighed, he couldn’t help the blissful “yes,” that ghosted out of his mouth.

Ilya pressed his finger in deeper and bent over to suck another fucking hickey into the side of Shane’s thigh. 

“Fuck, Ilya.”

“Yes, everyone is going to see them. See you all pretty and marked up for me. They will know I did not lie about our Valentine’s plans.”

“Another one.” Shane said, the damage was already done.

“Another finger, or another bite?”

“Both,” Shane growled, exasperated. He was doing a good job not grabbing his dick and jerking off just to spite Ilya, but he was getting desperate. 

Ilya did as he was told, sliding a second, and then eventually, a third finger into Shane, chewing on his left thigh like Anya with one of her squeaky toys. 

He lapped at the abused skin and curled his fingers, hitting Shane’s prostate dead on. 

“Fuck!” Shane fucking yelped, which was embarrassing as hell, but he didn't dwell on it. “Fucking fuck me, Ilya. Please fuck me.”

“Oh, if you insist,” Ilya snickered, pulling his fingers out of Shane, Shane couldn’t help the whimper he let out at the sensation, even if he was trying to glare at his husband. 

Ilya lubed his cock up slowly, turning around to stare into the lens as he did so. Shane lay panting on the bed, waiting patiently, but eagerly. 

“Come on, show off,” Shane said eventually, patience wearing thin. 

“I am just making sure they see. Is magic trick, yes? Watch nine inches disappear.”

“Oh my god!” Shane yelled, laughing. Ilya was still grinning with the stupid joke as he lined up and began to push into Shane. 

The stretch was something Shane would never get used to. The burn of it, so, so welcome and overwhelming. It was, secretly, his favorite feeling in the world. 

“Yes,” Shane moaned as Ilya sank deeper. Ilya’s fingers dug into the plush of Shane’s thighs. Ilya, fully inside him, pulled back and rolled his hips forward, once, twice. Shane reached for him, grabbing Ilya to pull him closer, against him.

“Fuck, yes, like that,” Shane said against his lips as Ilya fucked into him, rolling firmly, but not too fast. Not yet. “Feels so good, Ilya.”

Ilya’s crucifix was hitting him in the mouth. Shane tilted his head back as she saw stars. He wanted to do this forever, he wanted this feeling to never, ever go away. 

“You look so pretty, so beautiful, my Shane.”

Ilya was cupping his face gently as he rolled into him. Shane’s fingers dug into Ilya’s shoulders, he accidentally left little crescent marks there once with his fingernails. The guys on the team clocked them immediately. He wondered if it would happen again. He dug in a little harder.

“Fuck, they can’t see you like this. They can’t see how beautiful you are.”

Shane groaned. He pushed Ilya up, but Ilya was already moving them. Shane’s head spun as Ilya changed their positions, pulling out of Shane to do so. Shane whined, falling on top of Ilya. Shane’s hand fell behind them, instinctively trying to find Ilya’s cock to get it back inside him. 

Shane sank back down on Ilya’s cock. Chills erupted over his body. Ilya attempted to rub them away as Shane gasped and shuddered.

Shane watched Ilya tilt his head back to look at the camera for a second.

“Shane is one hell of a cowboy,” he said, smiling at it.

Shane slapped Ilya’s thigh, then squeezed it.

“Hush.” 

Shane rolled his hips, holding on with one hand firmly on Ilya’s chest. Ilya grabbed his hand and held it, squeezing their fingers together.

“Romantic,” Shane smirked. Ilya smiled in response. 

Shane couldn’t help the desperate, needy bouncing his legs were forcing him to do. He just needed it, he needed…he needed it…

“AH!” Shane cried out. There, he needed it right there. Shane bounced furiously, feeling the burn everywhere, his thighs, and knees, his fucking ankles. Under him, Ilya’s eyes were almost totally glazed over. He was still holding Shane’s hand, the other one was gripping the sheets. 

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya was thrusting up to meet him. They were moving together perfectly in sync after years and years of practice. Sex was both something they perfected years ago, and something ever evolving between them. 

Ilya released his hand to grip Shane firmly on his thighs. Shane had a feeling where this was going. His knees were going to fail him soon, after spending so much time on them earlier. 

Ilya was a marvel at moving between sex positions. He did it all so seamlessly that sometimes Shane didn’t even notice.

He did feel Ilya pull out of him again, though. He forced Shane’s face up for a kiss. Shane, nearly boneless, aching to come, and half-delirious, would do whatever Ilya wanted. 

Shane was pushed down onto his stomach. He buried his head in his arms. Ilya was behind him at the top of the bed. He heard the lube bottle click open.

“Ilya,” Shane whined, squirming. His cock was trapped between his body and the bed, he had barely touched it the entire time, and he was starting to feel like he might be going insane.

“Mmm, my Shane. So eager. So lovely.” 

Ilya pushed into him again, Shane’s moan was high-pitched and broken. He gripped the sheets at the edge of the bed. 

Ilya pounded into him, he couldn’t wait anymore either, Shane guessed. Shane certainly couldn’t. Hard, fast, brutal, that was usually how sex ended for them.

Ilya’s hand was on the back of Shane’s head, pushing his face into the mattress. Shane arched his back, Ilya moaned behind him, saying something in Russian again.

“I love your…god. What are they? The ass stripes.”

Shane almost laughed, but he couldn’t quite manage the sound.

“St-stretch marks.” Shane said, seeing stars.

“So pretty, such a nice, fat ass for me.”

Shane whimpered into the bedspread, twitching at the praise. He was getting close, he needed to get a hand around himself, but he just couldn’t manage to let go of the bedding.

“So desperate,” Ilya said, Shane could hear him smiling.

Ilya’s grasp changed on the back of his head, suddenly. He gripped him roughly by his hair and pulled his head up, and Shane was suddenly staring directly into the lens of the camera. 

He knew what it was seeing. Shane getting fucked within an inch of his life by his sex god of a husband. His back arched, mouth hanging open, hair ruined, just, absolutely destroyed for Ilya. 

“Look into the camera, Shane. We’re watching, we’re getting off to this.”

Shane whimpered.

“Oh fuck, love you like this. So far gone. You’re so beautiful, Shane.”

He wiggled Shane’s head by his hair.

“Smile for the camera.”

Shane tried to smile, to follow Ilya's directions, but he could hardly feel anything except Ilya moving behind him, his talented cock hitting Shane exactly where he needed it, and the wet mess between his legs. 

“Ilya, Ilya,” Shane moaned, sounding high, “Gonna come. Please, please, please-”

“Aw, what are you begging for, sweetheart?”

Shane whimpered and managed to pry his aching fingers off the bedspread. He slid his hand under his body and grabbed himself. 

“No,” Ilya said, shoving his hand under Shane to take it away. “You are going to come just like this.”

Shane cried, burying his head into the sheets again. 

“Come on, Shane. Come for me. Come for them,” Ilya’s hand was back in his hair, forcing him to face the camera. 

Shane stared into the lens when he felt it, the waves of an orgasm so intense his brain failed him. Ilya forced his head back, gripping him by his neck, his hand right over his Adam's apple, so Shane could meet his eyes and Ilya could feel the rumble of the moan that ripped its way out of Shane’s throat. 

He came so much, and Ilya had Shane enough off the bed, that his release shot forward and clung, for a second, to the sheets before sliding off the foot of the bed in little pearls.

Shane couldn’t think, he couldn’t do anything. He became aware, after a minute, that Ilya had stopped moving, and he felt it, Ilya’s own release inside Shane. 

Ilya collapsed on top of Shane, sweaty, breathing just as heavy as Shane was. Shane wasn’t sure he would ever be able to move again.

Shane felt Ilya pull out of him and turn him over. He was pulled up the bed by his ankles. Ilya put a pillow under his head and was helping him drink water.

“What day is it?” Shane whispered. Ilya laughed. “No, really. I think my brain is melted.”

“Yes,” Ilya smiled, kneading Shane’s thigh. “Me too.” He got Shane a damp cloth and wiped him down before snuggling against Shane’s side, blonde curls resting on Shane’s chest.

Shane ran a hand through them. He glanced at the camera. The light was still blinking, but he wasn’t worried about wasting memory now. 

“I love you so much,” Shane said. Ilya smiled.

“I love you. Tell me in Russian.”

Shane smiled and repeated the phrase slowly, in Russian. Ilya closed his eyes, a contented smile on his face.

Later, when the bed was stripped, the flower petals vacuumed off the rug, and the candle wax was scraped off the dresser, Shane would hold the little memory card in the palm of his hand and wonder if he should just crush the thing under his shoe.

It was such a small little thing, something that excited them both greatly. It could absolutely destroy them. Make them pariahs not just in hockey, but in the world at large. Destroying it would be the smart thing to do.

“Shane! The show is back on! This dumb couple is going to pick ugly house!” Ilya yelled from the living room. He could hear the oven timer beep, and the distant sound of Anya squeaking on a toy. 

Shane went to their closet and unlocked the safe. He slid the card in an envelope and hid it in the back, under Ilya’s old Russian passport, which was tucked gently under their new ones. It was snug there, secure.

He stared into the safe for a minute, feeling, slightly, thrilled, which was idiotic, and closed it. It would be safe there. It was just theirs. Their secret. If there was one thing Shane and Ilya were good at, it was guarding a secret.