Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe, Shane Hollander Was Never a Professional Hockey Player, Ilya Rozanov Was Never a Professional Hockey Player, Vampire Ilya Rozanov, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Hook-Up, Flirting, Pain Kink, Biting, Biting Kink, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Dubious Consent, no AI, Not Beta Read, Kinktober 2026, Sexual Tension, Bratty Shane Hollander

Language:

English

Series:

Part 20 of moon's kinktober 2026

Stats:

Published: 2026-10-20 Words: 8,722 Chapters: 1/1

operation: get laid

Summary

“You couldn’t wait five fucking minutes for me to smoke?” The guy asked the group as he walked up. Shane’s stomach swooped; he didn’t expect this guy’s voice to be as perfect as the rest of him, but it was.

“Rozy!” They cheered, just like they had for…whatever the other guy’s name was. Shane didn’t care anymore – he had his target. He was going to sleep with this guy Rozy or die trying.

-- kinktober 2026 d20 prompt: pain play

Notes

RE the dubious consent tag -- shane doesn't realise ilya's a vampire, he just thinks he's a lil weird like that. that being said, he's veryyy into what's happening. just thought i'd clear that up xx enjoy

Shane walked into the bar with a single goal: get laid. 

It was a shitty goal, maybe, but it was a random Friday night and he was stuck in Boston for a night because his company wanted to save on flights and a connection there was the cheapest option. No one knew Shane here – the chances of him walking into a gay bar and finding someone who knew him as a major real estate representative in Montreal was so slim it was laughable. 

So, he was going to get laid. No one here could be his client anytime soon, so it was safe.

Shane slipped on a dark blue button up and rolled the sleeves up, trying to make it a little less business and a lot more casual. His jeans helped, but the only shoes he brought were his dress shoes, so he didn’t have much of an option there. He stared at himself in the mirror, decided he hated what was staring back at him, and sighed, “Fuck.”

He left anyway. Either a man would be fine with the relatively boring look he had going on, or he’d leave alone and jerk himself off like many other nights and simply never return to Boston so he never faced this level of embarrassment again. He stared at the directions on his phone to the gay sports bar he’d managed to get his hotel close to and spent the seven minute walk trying to talk himself out of turning around and going back. 

His phone buzzed with a notification. MTL vs. BOS starting soon, it said. Shane smiled at it and dismissed it; he liked watching hockey and there was a game tonight of his team versus the local one, so a sports bar made sense. He just hoped that the overarching gay thing might be able to outweigh the rooting-for-different-teams thing and that people didn’t hate him for being there. Worst case scenario, they did hate him for liking Montreal, and he could just watch the game or leave. 

It was fine. He had plans. He didn’t need to be nervous. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t hooked up with anyone in months. 

Shane felt a little nauseous when he walked in but masked it quickly. Navigating around the groups of people talking to each other, he found his way to an empty seat at the end of the bar where it looped towards a corner but he could still see the large television where pre-game commentary was happening. 

He glanced around and felt a pit in his stomach when he saw that most people had small friend groups there, though there were a few stragglers. He eyed each man on his own carefully. 

One was easily twice Shane’s size, balding, and very drunk. Nope. 

Another was a quarter of Shane’s size, covered in makeup, and with hints of a pink thong showing out of the back of his pants. Also no. 

One looked promising, a nice grin and closely cropped hair. He had a painfully average build which wasn’t here nor there and Shane was considering it, but then another person sat next to him and dragged him into a kiss, his wedding band flashing as he lifted his hand to hold their face. Fuck. Nope.

“Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?”

Shane turned and the bartender gave him a polite smile. “Oh. Um, I’ll take a beer? Just whatever you have on tap. Surprise me?”

The bartender laughed. “You don’t go out often, do you?”

“Not really,” Shane admitted. This wasn’t usually his scene – he preferred events at someone’s house with his friends. “But I’m here anyway, right?”

“Right,” the bartender answered. “I’ll get that beer for you.”

Shane watched him as he moved. Strong shoulders and arms, dark brown eyes, dark purple dyed hair. He was hot, objectively – it was probably a rule that bartenders had to be attractive, Shane hadn’t seen a single one that wasn’t. He also knew they got flirted with constantly, though, and Shane didn’t want to be that guy, so he just smiled and swiped his card when the bartender brought him his drink. He sipped it and just took in the environment, eyeing each person that wandered in. A small group in Boston jerseys hung around a table, all joking and laughing with each other and talking about the game.

A tall guy, built great, with dark hair and some scruff walked in next, immediately going to the table.

“Marly!” a couple people shouted, greeting him with smacks on the back and side-hugs. This guy, Marly, looked over at the bartender and raised a finger. The bartender just gave him a thumbs up. A regular, Shane realised. Not his worst choice – he was hot and must know his way around Boston if he was here often. Maybe he had a place nearby that Shane could see. 

“Where’s Rozy?” One of the guys next to Marly asked.

Marly frowned and looked around like something was suddenly missing. “Where’s-” he groaned and walked over to the door, opening it and popping his head around the corner. He shouted, “Roz! Get that perfect ass in here!”

Shane banked the comment as another point in the potential hookup column. 

“You know the part doesn’t start until you’re here, brother!” Marly continued. 

Oh. Maybe not.

Marly walked back in, holding the door open for someone else and-

“Oh my god,” Shane whispered out loud, genuinely caught off guard. He was pretty sure a model just walked into the bar. Not one of the lean, limber ones that did jean advertisements or something; this guy was strong, evident from the shirt that was clinging to him like a second skin. His cheekbones were sharp enough to cut and the curls framed his head like a halo, a complete contrast to the serious expression on his face and a cigarette hanging from his lips. The golden cross pendant hanging from his neck where it rested over the shirt caught the light with each movement and Shane was distracted by it only momentarily, looking back at his face the moment he could. 

“You couldn’t wait five fucking minutes for me to smoke?” The guy asked the group as he walked up. Shane’s stomach swooped; he didn’t expect this guy’s voice to be as perfect as the rest of him, but it was. 

“Rozy!” They cheered, just like they had for…whatever the other guy’s name was. Shane didn’t care anymore – he had his target. He was going to sleep with this guy Rozy or die trying. 

Shane took a slow drink of his beer, eyeing the group carefully. Rozy’s irritation quickly faded into a sort of cocky amusement, laughing and joking and mocking the other people at the table. They had bets going on which Boston player was going to get the first goal and Marly brought them a round of drinks. Shane tried to pretend like he wasn’t eavesdropping when he heard one of them ask Rozy if he would be leaving them halfway through again. 

Rozy cocked an eyebrow at his friend and Shane felt himself shiver a bit. “Maybe, maybe not,” Rozy answered. “Depends on if I find someone I like.”

Someone, Shane caught. Non-gender specific. He smiled into his next sip of his drink. So, he maybe had a shot with this guy – he just had to figure out how to get his attention. Rozy was clearly interested in the game that was starting any second, so that could always be an in. He could pretend to be a Boston fan but no, that wouldn’t work, Shane couldn’t betray his team like that. He could wander over and ask him to explain the game like Shane hadn’t played for years himself, but the idea of playing dumb kind of made him want to die.

He’d have to bump into Rozy when he was getting a drink or something, then. He knew how to flirt, he could do it then. He just needed to get Rozy’s attention long enough to hook him, and then he was set. 

The game started on the television and Shane’s gaze jumped to it immediately, keeping an eye out for any major movement from the table. The group groaned in sympathy when a Boston player was pushed into the boards particularly aggressively and they cheered and whooped when it looked like Boston was going to get a goal, just to grumble when they didn’t. They all cried no, no, no, no, no! when the Boston goalie skated off towards the bench and the Montreal left winger got the puck, skating as fast as he could towards the open goal.

The puck sunk in and the entire table groaned as Shane pumped his fist in front of him, smiling as he said under his breath, “Let’s go!”

“Hey! Blue shirt.”

Shane turned towards the voice, freezing when he saw the first hot guy – fuck, what was his- Marly! That’s Marly, I remember – stared at him. He beckoned him over with a finger and Shane swallowed, glancing at Rozy as he took his drink and walked over.

“Hey,” Shane greeted, slotting right next to Marly and some other guy, Rozy across from him. Shane looked at him, intently dragging his eyes from Rozy’s down to his chest and then back up; a hint of a smile made its way onto Rozy’s lips.

“You cheering for Montreal over there?” Marly asked Shane. 

“Guilty,” Shane admitted, raising his hands in mock surrender. “That’s my team, sorry.”

“You live in Boston and they’re still your team?” One of the guys on Shane’s other side asked. 

“Oh, no. I’m just visiting.”

“Visiting from Montreal?” Marly questioned.

Shane nodded as he took another sip. “Yeah, I’m just here for work. Well, a flight layover. But I had a free night and thought it might be fun to go watch Boston lose on a bigger screen. The one at my hotel’s too small.”

A good portion of the group reacted with an ooh! and jumped into jeering and teasing like they were teenagers again. The others just laughed, delighted. Marly said, “Hey!”

Shane’s eyes were locked on Rozy, though, who was firmly in smiling territory again, looking at Shane like he was something interesting. He patted one of his friends’ shoulders and said, “Feller, swap places with Mr. Montreal. He’s with me.”

Shane’s stomach flipped at the easy command, the expectation that it would be followed. Sure enough, the guy next to Rozy stood and walked towards Shane, leaving the stool at the round table next to Rozy open. Shane smiled at the man and walked over to the stool, stepping a bit into Rozy’s space to slide onto it. 

“I’m Shane. I’m with you, huh?” Shane asked. 

“Yes,” Rozy answered plainly, looking Shane from top to bottom and back. “I have to keep an eye on the enemy, Shane.”

“Sure,” Shane answered. “Whatever you tell yourself.”

“Whatever I tell myself?” 

“Yeah. That I’m an enemy, that Boston will win tonight…”

Rozy laughed, surprised and entertained. “You are an asshole.”

Shane just shrugged and looked back at the tv, leaning forward on his elbows so his ass stuck out a bit on the chair. Based on how long it took for Rozanov to look back at the screen, it worked exactly how Shane wanted it to. It was still 1-0 when the first intermission hit, and Shane was instantly bombarded with questions. About what he was doing in Boston, about Montreal, about why he found himself in a gay sports bar. He answered all of them, trying to keep it vague enough to not tell anything super personal about himself. 

“And why do you think Montreal’s gonna beat my Boston boys?” Marly asked. 

“Do you want the simple answer or the long answer?” Shane asked, downing the last of his beer. 

“Both,” Marly answered, grinning.

“Simple answer: Montreal’s my team so I want to believe in them,” Shane explained.

“And the long answer?”

Shane took a deep breath. “Hammersmith wobbles every time he tries for a slapshot – he loses power in it. Carmicheal can barely focus on the puck. I mean, we watched him lose it like twenty times just in the first period; too many concussions, maybe. St-Simon is good whenever he can stay on his feet. I think he spends more time slammed into the boards and trying to get up from the ground than he does with a stick in his hands.”

Everyone stared at him for a moment. 

“I think Roz just fell in love a bit,” Marly said, breaking the tense silence. Shane turned and looked at him, catching the way Rozy’s mouth snapped closed as he tore his eyes away. Rozy blinked rapidly as he stole a shot from one of his friends and downed it all at once. Everyone broke into laughter, a bunch of people complimenting Shane’s knowledge and some even patting his arms and shoulders in easy camaraderie, despite the fact that he was rooting for the opposing team. 

When the general conversation returned to people entertaining each other, Shane turned his attention back to Rozy, whose gaze was firmly locked back on Shane. “So?” Shane prompted. “Do you think I’m right?”

“Of course not,” Rozy denied instantly, shaking his head. “You are forgetting one very important thing.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Rozy said, copying Shane. “It’s happening here in Boston, and we always play best at home.”

“Why? So the team can lick their wounds at their houses instead of a hotel?”

Rozy’s face split into a grin and he turned his body towards Shane, leaning his head down on a hand as he stared at Shane. He knocked his knee against Shane’s, encouraging him to copy the movement, and their legs ended up partially intertwined beneath the edge of the table. 

“You are very bratty for someone dressed so nicely,” Rozy said. Shane felt the comment go straight to his dick and he cleared his throat, trying for nonchalance. 

“Well, I have to get what I want somehow,” Shane answered.

“Yes? And what do you want?”

Shane licked his lips and his heart skipped when Rozy locked onto it, his eyes staring at Shane’s mouth for a long moment. Shane leaned forward, until he was only a couple inches from Rozy’s mouth. Rozy’s eyes rose to his, dark and focused before dropping to his lips again. 

“I want,” Shane said carefully, pausing. He held Rozy in suspense before he said, “Another drink.”

Shane abruptly pulled back and took his empty glass, sliding away and brushing his leg against Rozy’s as he did so. He walked towards the bar, glancing over his shoulder to see Rozy laugh to himself and cover his mouth with his hand, staring at the space Shane was just in. 

Hook, line, and sinker, baby, Shane thought with a victorious grin on his face.

“Another beer?” The bartender asked. 

Shane shook his head. “Do you have anything like ginger ale? Alcoholic or not.”

“I have just plain ginger beer, if that’s what you’re into. Or I could make you a mule – a Moscow Mule, technically,” the bartender offered. “Ginger beer, vodka, and a little lime.”

Shane thought about it for a moment and glanced over at Rozy, who he was pretty sure had a Russian accent. Russia, Moscow, hmm. “Yeah, I’ll do that,” he answered. “Thank you so much.”

The bartender laughed lightly. “Yeah, no problem. You got adopted by them, huh?”

The bartender gestured towards the table as he moved around, putting together Shane’s drink. Shane laughed, “Yeah, I guess so. I’m rooting for Montreal, though, so I’m just as surprised as you.”

The bartender shook his head and laughed. A sharp whistle cut from behind Shane and he didn’t even need to bother to glance over before the bartender nodded and held up an OK gesture. He finished putting the drink together and slid it to Shane in a strange pinkish-brown cup. Shane went to take out his wallet and he just shook his head. 

“Rozy’s got you,” he said. “Let me know if you don’t like it and we can get you something else.”

Rozy’s got me. Shane’s stomach fluttered. “Okay. Thank you.”

Shane turned and walked back over to the table, sliding back into his spot next to Ilya. He took a sip of the drink and was surprised by how much he liked it. 

“What did you get?” Rozy asked Shane the moment he set the cup down. 

Shane turned back towards him like he’d never left. “A Moscow Mule, I think.”

Rozy inched just a bit closer under the guise of a stretch. “If you wanted to taste something from Moscow, you just had to ask.”

Oh my fucking god, Shane thought, his heart stuttering in his chest. He wanted to sink to his knees and get the taste that was being offered, but he fought to keep up the flirty banter. “Oh, really? Which one of your friends is from Moscow?”

Rozy’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, you think you’re funny?”

Shane laughed and choked on it the moment Rozy’s hand settled on his thigh, large and spanning a huge chunk of the muscle. Shane felt his eyelids flutter as he looked at Rozy, arousal curling in his gut more and more with each passing second he spent interacting with Rozy. The tension was interrupted by the sound of a glass shattering next to them. Shane turned towards the noise instantly, wincing at the big chunks of glass all over the floor that someone at the table next to them dropped. Shane got up from the stool immediately, helping to pick up some of the larger chunks and set it on the table as two others, who dropped it, scrambled to help. 

When he picked up the final big chunk and set it on the table, a stinging pain hit his fingertip. 

“Ah, fuck,” he hissed, turning back towards Rozy and the table as bright red blood blossomed across his finger. Rozy was standing off to the side, gesturing to the bartender, when he suddenly went ramrod straight and whipped his head around to look at Shane. 

In the blink of an eye, he’d crossed over to Shane and was hovering at his side. “You’re bleeding.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Shane grumbled. He instinctively brought it to his lips, pressing his tongue against the small cut to try to stop the bleeding. He looked up at Rozy and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when Rozy kind of looked like he wanted to pass out. 

“Are you okay?” Shane asked, pulling his finger out of his mouth and rushing to grab a stray napkin on the table to press against the tiny cut. “Rozy?”

“Yes, fine,” Rozy said, sounding strained. His eyes never strayed from Shane’s finger. 

Understanding dawned on Shane. “Oh, shit. Are you squeamish?”

Rozy blinked. “What?”

“Like, blood makes you uncomfortable? Some people throw up or pass out. Sorry, I shouldn’t talk about it,” Shane winced. Great job, Shane, he mentally scolded himself. Talk more about fainting and vomiting, that’s exactly how you get a guy to want to fuck you.

Rozy visibly relaxed, though, and laughed slightly, his eyes still locked on Shane’s finger.
“No, I’m not squeamish. You are-” Rozy finally looked at Shane and Shane felt like his eyes were darker than they had been earlier. “You’re okay?”

“Oh, yeah. This is nothing,” Shane said with a small smile, holding up his finger and taking off the napkin to show the small cut that had already mostly stopped bleeding just from the pressure of the napkin. “One time, I cut my shoulder super bad when I was trying to move a box for my dad. Got a scar from it and everything.”

Rozy took in a sharp breath and looked at Shane’s finger again before nodding and looking away, clearing his throat. “Okay. You want to watch the game still?”

Shane grinned. “Yeah, of course. I didn’t let a table full of Boston fans scare me off, so I’m not letting this, either.

Shane walked back over to the table and stood since a group of the others were still standing, reaching over to drink more of his cocktail. It was almost like before, except for the fact that Rozy was so close now that Shane could feel the heat of his body next to him. They each inched closer and closer to each other through the second period, bantering back and forth but still not touching; by the time it hit the second intermission, Shane was done. 

Rozy turned his head towards Shane, his mouth open to say something, and Shane crossed the little bit between them to press the side of his body against the other man. Rozy’s eyebrows lifted. 

“Too nervous to touch me yourself?” Shane teased. 

Rozy responded by standing to his full height and reaching out to encourage Shane to do the same, turning him towards Rozy and resting his hands on Shane’s hips. “Do I look nervous?”

“No,” Shane admitted, his neck burning the moment Rozy touched him. 

“I was trying to be a gentleman, Shane,” Rozy said. 

Shane’s heart skipped. “You think I came to a sports bar to look for a gentleman, Rozy?”

Rozy grinned and Shane swore his canines were sharper than before. “Don’t call me this.”

Shane’s small smile faltered. “Oh,” he exhaled. “Sorry. Sorry, that’s what everyone else was calling you, so-”

“Shh,” Rozy interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s okay. Ilya.”

“Ilya?” Shane repeated. 

Rozy – Ilya – nodded. “Rozy is for my friends in the hockey beer league.”

Shane stepped closer, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as he brought his hands up to Ilya’s shoulders. He looked down at Ilya’s pendant and adjusted it where it was skewed before looking back up at Ilya through his lashes. “And who is Ilya for?”

“Ilya is for the pretty Canadian boys with freckles who talk shit about my team.”

Shane grinned and lifted one of his hands to Ilya’s head, threading his fingers through the back of his hair until he could pull Ilya down and into a gentle, tentative kiss. Immediately, Ilya pulled him in by the hips until they were flush together; Shane made a small noise in the back of his throat as Ilya held him up, kissing him languidly and lazily like there was no rush in the world. Ilya moved backwards just a little bit until he sat on his stool again. He kept Shane against him, slipping one of his legs between Shane’s so Shane could sit on his thigh and keep kissing him. 

Shane had no idea how long he was there kissing Ilya; time didn’t seem to matter when he had Ilya like this, pressed up against him and kissing him with his tongue slipping in every few presses of their lips. Shane scratched at his scalp soothingly as they kissed and Ilya’s hands slid down to Shane’s ass, holding him flush while squeezing every once in a while.

The table erupted into cheers and Shane and Ilya broke apart, eyes searching each others’ before Shane felt himself blush too much and he looked away, looking at the television to escape. 

“Ah, shit,” he said when he saw the score. The screen replayed Boston’s goal, a solid 1-1 now. 

Shane looked back at Ilya when he felt lips press against his chest through his shirt. Ilya kissed his chest, collarbone, shoulder, and neck. “Maybe I should distract you more,” he murmured. “My team scores when you’re not watching.”

“No chance, asshole,” Shane exhaled shakily with a hint of a laugh, pushing Ilya off. “Now we really have to watch the game.”

Ilya blinked at him. “You’re kidding.”

Shane slid off of his lap and stood, pushing his stool slightly out of the way so he could lean over the table a bit, sticking his ass out. “I’m never kidding about hockey.”

For a brief moment, Shane worried he’d pushed too hard. He liked the push and pull he and Ilya had going on, but he had no idea where the line was. Ilya stared at him from where he was sitting for a few long moments, long enough Shane started to feel like he needed to apologise and go back to kissing Ilya before he lost his chance. Then, Ilya looked up at the ceiling like he was looking at the sky, mumbled something in Russian, and stood up. He immediately pressed himself against Shane’s back, pushing him against the table until he had to stand up to be comfortable. Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane’s middle and latched his mouth onto the skin beneath Shane’s ear. 

“Then we will watch like this. And if my team wins, I’ll fuck you in my car outside,” Ilya promised. 

Shane’s dick twitched. He turned his head to the side and wanted to melt when Ilya immediately kissed his cheek. “And if my team wins?”

Shane barely caught the flash of Ilya’s teeth as he grinned. “Same deal.”

Shane brought his hand behind him to Ilya’s head again, guiding him into a kiss. The angle strained his neck uncomfortably but Shane could also feel Ilya’s dick against his ass like this, half-hard and thick. 

God, I picked well, Shane complimented himself. He rolled his hips back slightly and Ilya’s arms tightened around him, humming against Shane’s lips. Shane pulled back, butterflies flipping and flying in his stomach, and he looked back at the screen so Ilya didn’t see him blush as strongly as he was. For the last eight minutes of the third period, Shane dropped his head back against Ilya while Ilya mouthed at his neck from where it first peeked out of his shirt and up to his ear and jaw, kissing and lightly sucking all over it. Shane was certain there was no way he’d get out of this without some marks, but fuck it – he had a couple days off because of the conference. 

Montreal and Boston went back and forth, each getting increasingly closer to scoring. A fight broke out and one from each team got sent to the box; Shane watched with as much attention as he could give it with Ilya pressed against him and mouthing at the back of his ear. 

Then, Montreal scored with two minutes left on the timer. 

“Fuck, yes!” Shane cheered. He jostled forward at his excitement and he heard Ilya grumble behind him, irritated that the skin he’d spent a couple minutes mouthing at and abusing was now out of reach. 

“Shane, buddy, you gotta get the fuck out,” one of the people in the group said. “You’re a bad luck charm for us. You’re- what the hell did you do to Rozy?”

Shane glanced over his shoulder and just saw Ilya looking at him intently again, his eyes locked on Shane until he kissed his neck again. Shane looked back at the group and shrugged. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Roz?” Marly questioned, glancing between Ilya and Shane. “You good?”

Ilya hummed and licked the flat of his tongue against Shane’s pulse point. “You smell so good, Shane,” he mumbled. Shane’s lips curled up into a smile, amused. It had been forever since he put any cologne on, so he had absolutely no idea what Ilya was smelling, but he liked the compliment anyway. 

“Roz?” Marly pressed, stepping closer. Ilya tightened his arms around Shane and finally pulled his mouth away from Shane’s neck.

“What?” He asked gruffly.

“You okay? You’re a little, uh…” Marly trailed off.

“What? I want this game to fucking finish so I can go fuck Shane.”

Marly raised his hands in surrender and with a look that said they’d be talking about this later, but Ilya just returned to mouthing at Shane’s neck. His teeth grazed skin this time, nipping at him lightly, and Shane felt his vision swim as he tilted his head to the side and gave Ilya more room. 

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned, sending shivers down Shane’s spine. “Don’t make me wait. You already won the fucking game. We can go, yes?”

Part of Shane wanted to say no. He wanted to draw it out, to get Ilya even more desperate. The bravado Ilya had at the beginning had completely disappeared; all that remained of his intensity was the way his cock pressed against Shane from behind, pinned between his body and Shane’s. 

The other part of Shane was a little lightheaded, half-hard himself, and pretty sure there was no way Boston was going to win. So, fuck it. He turned around completely and pressed a kiss to Ilya’s lips. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The moment Shane said the words, Ilya had a hand around his and dragged him towards the exit. A couple of the guys shouted goodbyes to Shane and Shane waved but Ilya kept pulling him, moving like a man on a mission. He started stalking towards a nice looking car in the parking lot but Shane ground his heels and resisted. 

“What, you don’t want?” Ilya asked, looking at Shane in confusion.

“Not if that’s your car, Ilya. How the fuck are both of us supposed to even fit in there? Is there even a backseat?” Shane questioned. 

“No. But it’s okay, it will work,” Ilya argued. 

“No, fuck that. My hotel’s only a couple blocks.”

In a flash, Ilya was all up in his face again and grinning. “You are inviting me back to your hotel?”

“Yeah?” Shane was confused. “A bed is infinitely better than whatever position you were gonna try to put me in there.”

“Fuck, let’s go,” Ilya groaned, intertwining his fingers with Shane’s. “I’ll race you.”

“You want to lose twice in one night?”

“So mean to me, Shane,” Ilya said through a sharp grin. 

He pressed a kiss to Shane’s lips, immediately distracted, and Shane took the advantage. He started running, Ilya growling something out behind him before joining, the two of them racing back towards Shane’s hotel. When they made it to the lobby, Shane couldn’t escape Ilya’s hands; they roamed all over him, squeezing at any muscle he could get his hands on. Shane had to force them both into the elevator, and then back out when they hit his floor. He fumbled to get his keycard to open the door and was immediately pushed through when it did open, Ilya pressed against his back. 

“Ilya,” Shane chastised lightly. He barely managed to set his wallet and keycard on the small kitchen’s counter before Ilya spun him around, backing him up against it until Ilya could kiss him again. 

“What do you like?” Ilya asked between kisses, trailing them over his cheek and jaw. 

Shane’s head spun. What did he like? Ilya’s fingers dug into his waist and Shane groaned. “That,” he said. “I wanna feel it.”

Ilya brought one of his hands to Shane’s jaw, his grip teetering near pain as he held Shane’s face. “You want me to mark you up?”

Shane nodded. “Please,” he added.

Ilya’s breath hitched. “I want to bite you,” he said almost mournfully. “I want to sink my teeth into your neck.”

Shane had already put together that Ilya had a thing for his neck with all the kissing and almost-hickeys, but this was the cherry on top. To have a mark from Ilya that would stay long after this night, a deliverance of pain in a concentrated, hot way – it was almost too much. His heart skipped at the admission and he mumbled, “I want you to. Bite me, baby.”

Ilya groaned like he’d been punched and he leaned forward, kissing back along Shane’s jaw and neck. He paused to suck a hickey into the skin, nipping lightly and running the flat of his tongue across it afterwards like it would make it ache less. Shane felt like he could barely breathe – the only reason he could stay upright was because of the counter at his back holding him up. He held onto the back of Ilya’s head as he continued to move across Shane’s skin before settling on a spot on the side of his neck and practically growling. 

“Last chance to back out,” Ilya said, desperate and wanting. 

“I don’t want to back out,” Shane denied, breathless. “I want- ah! Fuck!”

Shane had never been bitten in his entire life, not like this. He’d had guys nibble at his skin a bit, just enough to bring blood to the surface to leave a sexy mark behind, but he’d never once had someone openly sink their teeth into him. For a brief moment, Shane felt like he was going to faint. It fucking hurt, his neck throbbing in pain even as he arched against Ilya. He moaned in dual pleasure and pain, his breath coming in shaky spurts. 

Then, the pain faded into pure fucking bliss. 

“Oh my god,” Shane moaned, dropping his head back completely. He registered a dull ache, a steady throb where Ilya’s teeth were still in him, but it felt so insanely good that Shane was pretty sure he was being fundamentally altered as a person. He rubbed over the back of Ilya’s head, his fingers catching on curls with each movement, but his main focus was to keep Ilya’s teeth against his neck and prolong whatever the fuck this feeling was. 

“Fuck, Ilya,” he panted. His words were slurred when said, “That’s so good.”

The pain at his neck throbbed in consistent waves and it made him feel dizzy and lightheaded. He rolled his hips forward and failed to keep his eyes open any longer when Ilya met the movement, guiding Shane into each jerk against him. Ilya did something with where he’d been biting; the pain intensified a bit and Ilya licked and kissed over where he’d just been, saliva coating a wide expanse of Shane’s neck. 

He’d barely blinked his eyes open when Ilya’s face was in front of him again, smacking his cheek just enough to sting. Shane’s breathing felt shallow as he looked at Ilya, lust curling in his gut. He liked looking at Ilya, but he also really wanted Ilya’s teeth back in him.

“Okay? Not feeling bad?” Ilya questioned.

“I feel great,” Shane countered, his words coming out slightly slurred like on the rare occasion he got drunk. “Please bite me again.”

Instead, he got kissed, hard and bruising. Either he or Ilya must have split their lip or bit their tongue or something because there was a slight metallic taste to it; Shane didn’t mind it. He clung to Ilya, moaning weakly as Ilya dominated his mouth until all Shane could think was Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. He was pulled away from the counter, Ilya holding him up as he walked Shane backwards and towards the bed. 

Shane’s breath knocked out of him when his back hit the mattress and he blinked up at Ilya, his vision a little blurry. He scrambled to peel off his shirt; even just the small movement had him dizzy and he ached for Ilya to touch him again, to guide him and feel him and bite him. He started to shimmy off his pants but Ilya was there in the next second, grabbing them from Shane and pulling them off, grumbling when his briefs and jeans got caught around his ankle. Shane sprawled across the bed, naked in just his socks, and he brought a hand down to his cock, jolting at the feeling when he brushed his hand over his length. 

It felt like he watched everything through a haze as Ilya scrambled to pull off his clothes.

“Damn,” Shane said emphatically when he saw Ilya’s naked body. He’d thought Ilya was hot before but this was completely unfair. Shane was so turned on it hurt. Ilya just laughed and dove forward, connecting his lips with Shane’s as he slotted himself between Shane’s legs. Shane immediately felt himself melt against the mattress, limp and pliant as Ilya moved his legs where he wanted them to be, Shane’s knees trapped against Ilya’s sides .

“You have no idea what you are doing to me,” Ilya whispered against his lips. Shane just made a sound close to a purr in answer. Ilya took in a sharp breath and kissed down his body, stopping at a nipple and wrapping his teeth around the nub, sucking and pulling hard. Shane shouted reflexively, his hands flying down to curl in the sheets as he arched into the pain, pushing his chest more firmly against Ilya’s mouth. Ilya palmed at his other pec while he bit and pulled at Shane’s nipple and the surrounding skin. By the time he popped off with a lewd, wet sound, the entire thing was puffy from attention. 

Shane moaned when Ilya continued on his path down, sucking and nipping and kissing down Shane’s sternum and abs. He bit more firmly into a spot by Shane’s navel; it was nowhere near that blinding pain from before that Shane wanted so desperately. His chest rose and fell heavily as he watched Ilya mouth down his body. A trail of red skin in little splotches followed his mouth, clear exactly where he’d been all over Shane. He looked up at Shane as he kissed a spot above Shane’s dick; Shane’s heart raced in his chest. He’d never seen someone with such blown out pupils before – Ilya looked like he wanted to eat Shane whole. 

His dick jumped just from the eye contact. Ilya grinned and bit down. 

“Fuck!” Shane hissed, jerking first away from the sharp pain and then back the moment it shifted into that all-consuming pleasure again. He moaned when he brought a shaky hand to Ilya’s shoulder, squeezing the muscle in what he hoped was encouragement as Ilya continued to bite down on him and suck like he really wanted to leave a mark. 

I’m so lucky I got to him first, holy shit, he thought. 

“Ilya,” Shane groaned, closing his eyes. “That’s so good.” The new, dull throb accompanied with the one in his neck was still 

Ilya continued biting at him for a moment, the pulsing waves of pleasure that Shane now expected. When he pulled off and the pain came slowly rushing back, he kissed and licked all over the mark, just like he had the first time. 

“I have never seen someone as good at taking it as you,” Ilya said, sounding almost reverent. Shane wanted to preen, to beam and make some comment about how he knew he was the best or how he was good at taking it in other ways too. Any retort was abandoned when Ilya pushed Shane’s legs apart firmly and immediately bit down on the inside of his left thigh. 

Shane’s head swam from the sharp pain mixed with the residual pleasure from the last bite. He felt lightheaded and a little weak and so turned on that he really, really needed to touch his dick. He forced himself to take the hand that was still wrapped around the comforter beneath him and wrap it around his cock instead. Shane shuddered at  the pleasure, at the contact he needed so desperately. He timed each stroke with the sucking rhythm Ilya had with his teeth and tongue and his mouth parted around a silent moan. All he could manage was a choked, punched-out sound.

Ilya had reduced him to this and he wasn’t even fucking Shane. “Ohmygod,” Shane slurred and moaned at the thought. It made him just as dizzy as the pain did, but he was getting better at managing it. He could feel his release building in his gut, a tightness pulling him closer and closer. He sped up his hand a bit, his eyes rolling back at how good it felt, and whined when one of Ilya’s hands closed around his, stopping him in place.

“Why?” Shane protested weakly, the sound barely more than an exhale.

“Only cum if you can do it a second time when I get my hands on you,” Ilya growled. “You can do it twice?”

“Yeah- ah, yeah, I think so.”

Ilya went back to mouthing at that same spot and released Shane’s hand, slipping his fingers around Shane’s balls instead. He lightly rolled them and Shane felt like he was going to implode or explode – one of them, he wasn’t particularly picky about which. Ilya popped off of the spot and spread so much saliva around it that Shane felt like it was a second skin. Shane couldn’t quite see the bite mark because of the angle, but Ilya gave what he assumed was the center of it a kiss based on how much it ached. 

Ilya turned his head, tugged at Shane’s sac, and then bit down on the other inner thigh, exactly mirroring the last bite. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Shane exhaled rapidly, gasping as he spilled across his hand, the pain radiating through him from Ilya’s teeth as he hit the peak of his pleasure as well. His entire body felt like it was locked up as he moaned and jerked himself through it until his arm was shaking and he had to let go. The pulsing feeling where Ilya’s mouth was attached to him felt like it was drawing out the pleasure in his body, each small suck sent sparks further and further through him. 

Shane fought to breathe normally as his arms collapsed against the bed next to him, his legs slumping down against the bed. Everything felt so good that he was weak, boneless, pliant. Then, it felt like he blinked and Ilya was gone from his leg and patting his face gently.

“Shane,” he said urgently. “Shane, did you pass out? Shane.”

Shane blinked his eyes openly slowly. “What? No.”

Ilya had such a worried expression on his face that Shane felt his heart skip. He visibly relaxed all at once, dropping his head against Shane’s shoulder. “You scared me,” he admitted. “Still feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I feel great, Ilya, holy shit,” he said with a slight laugh. “Really want you to touch me, though.”

Ilya lifted his head and smirked. “So greedy. You just came and you already want more,” he said. Like this, face to face, Shane couldn’t help but notice Ilya’s teeth looked sharper than before – maybe it was from all the biting. Maybe that was a thing that happened to teeth; Shane had no idea, he wasn’t a dentist. All he knew was that he really wanted to feel them against his tongue. 

He tilted his chin and kissed Ilya, hesitantly flicking his tongue over the sharp edge of Ilya’s teeth, careful not to cut himself. Ilya let out a guttural moan and sank against Shane, the hand that wasn’t propping him up clawing up and down Shane’s body like he was desperate for purchase. Shane’s entire body ached and hurt in the best way but nothing topped the little headrush that came with affecting Ilya like this. 

“Shane,” Ilya panted against his lips. Shane hadn’t realised how much he’d missed Ilya’s voice while he was unable to speak and using Shane like a chew toy. “Fuck, sweetheart, let me make you feel good.”

Shane nodded eagerly and Ilya guided him to lay on his side, facing away from Ilya for the first time. Ilya rushed off the bed, fumbling around with his jeans and then his wallet before returning with a triumphant grin and a small lube packet. 

“That is not enough for you to fuck me,” Shane said without thinking. He saw Ilya’s dick – he’d need more than that tiny little packet to stretch himself enough and to lube Ilya enough for it to not be the bad kind of pain. 

Ilya settled behind him, one hand on Shane’s hip as he kissed the back of Shane’s neck. “Good thing I am not fucking you, then. You want to feel it, yes? For it to hurt?”

Shane already felt like he’d been hit by a truck with how much his body ached. Still, he said eagerly, “Yeah.” 

Shane tried to peek over his shoulder as he heard the packet tear open, followed by some slick sounds. He shuddered when Ilya kissed behind his ear and mumbled, “Lift your leg.”

Shane lifted his leg as Ilya held his thigh and he felt his heart race as understanding settled in him. Ilya slipped his cock between Shane’s thighs, just under his ass, and exactly over the bite marks. 

“Squeeze,” Ilya instructed. Shane brought his leg back down and squeezed his legs as Ilya rocked his hips forward. 

“Holy shit,” he groaned, one of his hands flying back to grasp Ilya’s curls. Ilya fucked between his thighs, his cock pushing hard against the tender bite marks on either side of them with each thrust. Shane turned his face into the pillow beneath his head, trying hard to muffle the little pleased sounds that escaped him. Ilya stopped him before he could do it for too long, though; Ilya worked his arm up from where it had been buried beneath him so that he could slip it beneath Shane’s head. He wrapped his arm around Shane’s neck and grabbed at his chest, pushing down on one of the bruised marks he’d left behind as he pulled Shane back and against him.

Shane’s hand shot down to grab at Ilya’s thigh as he moaned; his head rested against Ilya’s shoulder and his body jerked with each thrust through his legs. Each push forward sent a new ache through his body and Shane felt his dick stir back to life. His eyes closed and just just took in the sensations, the way Ilya was wrapped around him and murmuring sentences in a language Shane didn’t speak. 

“Fucking perfect,” Ilya said emphatically after a few moments. “Shane, you took it so well and you taste- fuck. Fuck, Shane, you have no idea.”

That sent a jolt of arousal through Shane; he didn’t know exactly what Ilya was talking about, or about how he tasted – maybe he just meant his skin or something. But it had Shane feeling like he was going to vibrate out of his skin nonetheless, his entire body thrumming with happiness at getting Ilya this desperate and making Ilya happy. Ilya nosed along his neck and Shane half expected another bite, but it never came. Instead, Ilya pulled Shane into each thrust with his hand on Shane’s hip. Shane flexed his thighs, trying to keep them as tight as possible, and Ilya moaned against him, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his skin like a thank you. 

Shane already felt amazing just giving this to Ilya, but when the hand migrated from his hip to his cock, Shane jolted. He wasn’t completely hard but he could certainly get there, and Ilya seemed determined to be the one to do it. Ilya used his thrusts as leverage, pushing Shane into his otherwise relatively stationary hand. Each movement sent sparks through Shane’s body; Ilya’s finger bumped into his frenulum with each push forward and it was the perfect stimulation on top of the dull pain radiating through his thighs and pelvis. 

“Ilya,” he groaned, holding onto him tightly.

Ilya murmured something about tasting him again, something Shane didn’t quite catch, and then, “I want to feel you cum in my hand, sweetheart, come on.”

Shane’s stomach flipped and he nodded eagerly. Ilya fucked his thighs harder, faster, until Shane felt like his entire body was either pulsating in a low level of pain or getting slammed into by the massive cock between his thighs. Ilya’s voice caught on a groan and his hips started to falter in their pace, stuttering between Shane’s thighs. 

“Ilya,” Shane moaned, already anticipating what was to come. Ilya twisted his wrist as he jerked Shane off and his rhythm got sloppier and sloppier until he shouted and stalled, his body pressing tightly against Shane’s back. His mouth connected with Shane’s shoulder – not biting necessarily, but holding the muscle in his mouth as he sucked and licked at it. That feeling coupled with the way his bite marks ached pushed him over the edge for a second time; he shuddered in Ilya’s arms as his entire face reacted to the pleasure coursing through him. 

Carefully, Ilya turned Shane’s body so he was laying on the bed properly with Ilya’s arm still beneath his head.

“Okay?” Ilya asked. 

Shane smiled. “Yeah, ‘m okay. Really regretting the fact I can’t stay in Boston, actually.”

He hated the fact he said that the moment it came out of his mouth. Shane closed his eyes, his heart racing as he tried to recover from the fact that he had implied he’d be with Ilya again if he was in Boston. 

Ilya shifted and Shane shot his hand out to grab Ilya’s wrist. Ilya just gave him a small smile and said, “Not leaving yet.”

Shane’s heart fluttered in his chest but he let go, watching as Ilya stood up from the bed and wandered into the bathroom, coming back with a wet rag. He stopped by the little hotel minibar and pulled a tiny bottle of apple juice out of it; he tucked the bottle under his arm and grabbed his phone from his jeans, tossing it on the bed by Shane’s feet. 

Ilya held out the juice to Shane. “Drink,” he ordered.

Shane felt his face wrinkle. “Do you know how much sugar is in that?”

Ilya huffed. “Yes, which is why you need to drink it.”

Shane started to sit up, saying, “I don’t need-”

He was instantly dizzy, his ears ringing. “Woah,” he exhaled. 

Ilya was there in a flash, guiding him to sit against the headboard. Shane’s vision cleared enough for him to see the open bottle of juice being pressed against his lips. Shane steadily drank some and immediately gulped it down, suddenly desperate for it. By the time he finished the small bottle, Ilya was already wiping up the mess on his thighs and abdomen. 

“Lightheaded?” Ilya asked. 

Shane nodded weakly. “Must be low blood sugar or something, I dunno. I didn’t eat dinner yet.”

Ilya made an unhappy noise. Shane closed his eyes. He felt a kiss against his cheek and he smiled, blinking his eyes open just enough to see Ilya sit next to him.

“Do you have allergies?” Ilya asked.

“Huh?”

“Allergies. Food allergies.”

“Oh, no,” Shane answered, a bit confused by the question. 

Ilya tapped around on his phone for a while and Shane felt the apple juice slowly settle in him, making him feel less weak. After a while, Ilya said, “Okay. You have a food delivery coming – they will bring it up here. Eat all of it, yes? No passing out.”

Shane felt something fond uncurl in his chest. “You ordered me food?”

Ilya waved him off like it didn’t matter. Shane used the little strength he had to lean over and capture Ilya’s lips in a quick kiss before leaning back against the headboard. “Thank you,” he said.

Ilya’s eyes went wide and almost flighty as he cleared his throat and stood, reaching for his clothes. Shane watched him get dressed, wishing he could stay longer, but Ilya was already being significantly nicer to him than a lot of other hookups, so he forced himself to let it go. When Ilya was dressed, he leaned over to Shane one last time and kissed him. 

“Bye,” he said. “Have a safe flight back to boring Canada.”

Shane laughed. “Goodbye.”

He watched Ilya leave and took a deep breath, sitting on the bed and smiling at the ceiling like an idiot until there was a knock on the door. He threw on some briefs and his shirt and decided that was good enough for people he’d never see again. A bag of food hung on the doorhandle, no one in sight, and Shane took it eagerly. When he looked at the receipt stuck to the outside, he saw a little scribbled note. 

Text me next time you’re in Boston, Mr. Montreal.

He laughed at the words and phone number, already moving to add the contact to his phone.