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:

POV Shane Hollander, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Dom Bottom Ilya Rozanov, Top Shane Hollander, Sexual Free Use, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, References to Addiction, Butt Plugs, Post-Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers)

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-06-14 Words: 2,821 Chapters: 1/1

shapes to make you pleased

Summary

It’s one of these rare days. A Sunday in December. No games, no training, no meetings, no photoshoots, not even a phone call on the schedule. Shane’s only obligation today is to be whatever Ilya needs: to give whatever Ilya wants to take and to take whatever Ilya wants to give.

Shane is ready for Ilya to use his body however he desires. He just wasn't expecting him to desire this.

Notes

Okay I tried to write some smut! This was definitely out of my comfort zone but I needed it to be written and I thought it would be a good challenge. It is set after TLG and, although I haven’t read TLG, it does contain some spoilers, but we don't dwell on them for long! Please check the tags before reading. I hope you enjoy :)

Title from 24hr Dog by FKA Twigs.

It’s one of these rare days. A Sunday in December. No games, no training, no meetings, no photoshoots, not even a phone call on the schedule. Shane’s only obligation today is to be whatever Ilya needs: to give whatever Ilya wants to take and to take whatever Ilya wants to give.

It first came about early in the season, the day after a brutal two week roadie. Shane was simultaneously exhausted and incredibly horny because he had stupidly insisted they absolutely couldn’t have sex in the room next door to their teammates. At the time it had seemed like a neat solution: Ilya could do whatever he wanted with him all day and all Shane had to do was lie there and take it. Convenient. Easy. But of course, it was also insanely hot. So long after Shane’s “no sex on roadies” rule had been sensibly struck down, this remained a regular occurrence: whenever they had a free day to themselves, Shane would hand over his body to Ilya, to use for his own pleasure however he desired.

On these rare days, Shane usually rises early, using the last of his autonomy to go for a run. Then a thorough shower to get himself prepped and plugged, ready for Ilya to roll out of bed. Ilya’s morning routine is a little more straightforward: he just grabs the bottle of lube and the Sharpie from his nightstand and he’s good to go. The Sharpie was Shane’s idea — the second time they’d tried this arrangement he had worried he might lose count after Ilya had already filled him with a fourth load before lunch. It was a neat solution. After the plug is safely returned to Shane’s ass and Ilya has given him a quick wipe clean, he carefully marks a tally — either on his throat or his ass — before going about his day. Their current record is 9 but Shane is confident they can do much better.

Shane has just finished his morning routine and is sitting on their ridiculously huge designer couch reading the latest hockey biography. He’s pretty sure the subject of this one must have paid the writer a hefty fee because he’s being far too complimentary about his frankly terrible defensive play.

Ilya is taking his time in the shower this morning. Shane listens to the flowing water with great irritation. Ilya knows how much Shane has been looking forward to today. Yes, they may have fucked every night this week (plus a few mornings), but these special days are like a drug to Shane. Ever since he first got a taste, he’d been hooked on that feeling, of being reduced to nothing more than an object for Ilya to use as he pleases. He craves it. And he’s been sprawled out on the couch wearing only his underwear and a silicone plug for 30 minutes, listening to his husband choose to sing along to Abba gold in the shower instead of giving it to him. He knew Jackie’s birthday Mamma Mia karaoke night would come back to bite him. Four renditions of “Dancing Queen”? Really Ilya? Whilst Shane is here ready and waiting? He huffs as he reads, trying not to think about the precious minutes that are ticking away, and the 9 tally record slipping out of reach.

He hears the shower shut off finally and his ass quivers around the silicone in anticipation. The words on the page swim across his mind but none of them latch on — the book is more of a prop at this point, just another little part of their well-practised theatre. He breathes carefully, trying not to get ahead of himself. He doesn’t know what Ilya has planned for him, he could simply choose to ignore him all day and there would be nothing Shane could do about it — begging is against the rules after all. His eyes stay firmly fixed on the page as the soft footsteps pad nearer. The moment he hears them stop next to him, he closes his book and moves to flip onto all fours — he knows his lines by now — but he’s stopped by a strong arm to his shoulder.

“No. I will use your mouth,” Ilya states plainly.

Shane swallows his surprise and obediently lets Ilya guide him onto his back. Ilya lets the towel around his waist drop to the floor, and lazily straddles Shane's head with his knees, feeding his already hard cock into his waiting mouth. Shane can smell the faint remnants of their overpriced bodywash on his skin and his jaw relaxes in an almost-pavlovian response. Ilya fucks into his mouth, grunting as he bottoms out in Shane’s throat. Shane bathes in the delicious fullness, his pent-up anticipation dissolving into a familiar limp buzzy feeling. Ilya reaches down to free his cock from the pathetic wet fabric of his underwear, brushing light fingers along his shaft. Shane moans around him, savouring the sensations as the generous gift they are. It’s not that Ilya never lets him come on days like this, but he has discovered how needy Shane gets after being denied only a few times. So Shane will take anything he's given gratefully.

The cock stills, buried in his throat, as Ilya leans forward, taking Shane's tip between his soft lips and swirling his tongue against the head. Shane tries to focus on his own tongue, sliding across the thick shaft as it pumps into his mouth, determined to earn himself a reward — and hopefully a tally mark — with his performance.

Shane feels a hand grab his wrist, directing it towards Ilya’s plump ass. He catches on quickly: it’s not unusual nowadays for Ilya to want to be touched there. His fingers find his rim and he’s a little surprised to find it already wet and ready. Blindly, trying to remember to breathe through his nose whenever he gets the opportunity, Shane circles his rim and presses a gentle finger inside. It’s softer than he remembers, offering less resistance than it had on previous occasions. It doesn’t take long before he finds the spot that makes Ilya moan around him, first with one finger, then two, then — to his surprise — three. He clenches around the plug in jealously, chasing any stimulation the obtrusive silicone can provide.

Suddenly Ilya pulls his cock from Shane’s mouth with a pop and dismounts. A desperate whine escapes Shane’s lips before he has the chance to stop it. He hopes Ilya doesn’t choose to punish him too harshly for that later. He strains his neck, his now empty mouth chasing after the retreating cock, but a strong arm roughly pushes his shoulder flat to the couch. That must be it, it’s over. Ilya got what he needed for now. Shane looks up to see where he is going to shoot his load this time. If it’s not in his mouth or his ass, will it be on his stomach? His face? Shane tries not to think about the loss of a tally mark.

But Ilya is climbing onto his lap, straddling his legs and grinding their cocks together. The relief flows through Shane’s body, pathetic and limp and grateful. He closes his eyes, surrendering to every fraction of pleasure Ilya is bestowing upon him. Ilya coats both of their cocks generously with lube and encloses them with his fingers, pressing their shafts together and thrusting into the tight fist. Shane feels a strong hand press into his chest and he lets himself sink into the cushions, falling, falling, falling into that soupy feeling that makes his teeth tingle with want.

Just as soon as Shane lets himself be cradled by the warm ripples of pleasure, the grip disappears. Ilya shifts his hips forwards, pressing Shane’s cock instead between the plump cheeks of his ass and grinding against it. Shane loves his husband’s frankly ridiculous ass, but he can’t help but resent its softness at this moment. His cock mourns for the tight pressure snatched away only moments ago. He bites his lips together to silence his frustration.

He feels Ilya’s hand press against the bottom of his shaft. Shane’s eyes snap open as Ilya guides his tip towards his tight rim, a thumb pressing against the bottom of the head until he feels it stretch around him. Fuck. His cock is inside Ilya’s ass. He watches helplessly as Ilya lowers himself onto his length inch by inch. His vision blurs from the hot grip engulfing him, but he can still see those oh so familiar sensations flash across his husband's face. An ugly thought crosses Shane’s mind. In this moment — this beautiful precious moment — Shane can’t help his jealousy. His own hole, stuffed only with silicone, pines for the pleasure he can see written so plainly across Ilya’s face for the first time. Shane scolds his covetous prostate and grips the couch cushions, watching Ilya work his hips in little circular motions, slowly stretching himself around his cock until he is fully seated.

He is inside Ilya. His whole entire cock is inside his husband’s asshole. The thought alone is almost enough to send Shane hurtling over the edge and bring this whole experience to an embarrassingly premature end. He desperately tries to focus on anything other than the tight wet heat enveloping his dick.

Shane had always sensed an anxious little thought lingering in a dark corner of his mind that he would never be able to enjoy his husband in this way. For all the exploration they had done in the bedroom (and kitchen, and living room, and lake, and — you get the picture), for all the new ground they had relished breaking together, Shane had always held onto that grain of doubt, that this would be it: the one sexual experience with Ilya Rozanov that he wouldn’t enjoy. He supposes he had feared it would remind him too much of his embarrassing attempts to fuck women.

The idea is almost laughable to imagine in this moment. If the weight of Ilya’s palm on his chest wasn’t enough, or his thick cock pressing against his stomach, then the view of his husband towering over him — always so strong, so beautiful, so hot — could drive the message home: he was nothing like those women. Shane feels his ridiculous worry evaporate as his brain is overwhelmed with pleasure.

Ilya clenches around him as he raises his hips slowly. Shane watches his muscular chest rise and fall with ragged breaths, bathing in the long deep groan escaping his lips as he bears down, taking Shane’s length within him again. He starts a steady rhythm of slow circular grinds, working the entire length of Shane’s shaft with his tight hole.

Pleasure pulsing through him, Shane marvels at the sight. He had seen Ilya’s sculpted body so many times now but its beauty hadn’t faded even a fraction — if anything it had only grown more gorgeous, a feat that would have seemed impossible when it first captured Shane’s desire in those showers. It takes his breath away every time. But he had never seen it move like this. Ilya’s abs ripple as he rolls his hips and his thighs bulge with muscles borne of years of discipline and exertion. Shane stares at where his own cock should be, watching it disappear inside a tight ring of muscle again and again. He feels hypnotised by it, like a snake helpless against the charmer’s alluring dance. 

Even Ilya’s face holds an expression Shane had never witnessed. His eyes were closed and Shane could only read the bizarre mix of emotions written across his brow because he himself knows exactly what it feels like. The strange cocktail of fullness, obtrusion and pleasure had become Shane’s drug of choice all those years ago, and now he pined for it like an addict gazing through a liquor shop window.

Shane gasps as Ilya removes his palm from his chest, but he doesn’t have to miss its weight for long, as Ilya drapes his torso over him. Shane can feel his ragged breaths against his ear, and hear his throaty grunts every time he drives his hips down, his steady rhythm dissolving into a smaller, faster, more desperate grinding on his cock.

He wonders if Ilya has ever practiced this. Did he prepare for today the way Shane himself had all those years ago? Had he stolen away hours in lonely secrecy, secluded encounters with some silicone impersonation? He hopes he didn’t. He hopes that not even an empty room had been offered a chance to witness this before him.

It occurs to Shane that this must have been why he’d been given a cock in the first place. He’d been carrying it around all these years, a big useless thing that swelled shamefully and leaked like a girl. And now he knows why: so Ilya could use it as his own personal fucktoy. He imagines this thought should fill him with embarrassment — it probably would have in years gone by — but right now, lost under the weight of his husband, it brings him nothing but pure bliss. A groan rips through him and he writhes desperately, his hole clenching against the plug, his cock possessed to thrust wildly into Ilya's ass, greedily chasing the pleasure that surely lay within.

He is suddenly aware of just how dangerously close he is and an unfamiliar wave of panic washes over him. His own pathetic horniness could cut short this precious moment for both of them. It is — he realises — the first time he’s held this kind of power. He doesn’t like it one bit. He closes his eyes and claws at Ilya’s back manically, grasping at anything that might keep him from tumbling off the edge. He can’t fail. Ilya could have picked any dildo from their well-stocked drawer but he chose him. He has to give him what he wants. He has to hold on, he has to let him take what he needs, he can’t, he can’t —

“Fuck Ilya — I’m gonna — I can’t —”

Ilya doesn’t relent. He bears down his hips with his full weight and Shane can feel his resolve shattering with each heavy slam. No, he thinks. No I — a lightning bolt of pleasure rips through him and he moans pitifully as he feels his balls tighten, pumping rope after rope into his husband’s ass. 

He couldn’t help it. His arms fall limp to his sides as Ilya sits up, still fully seated on Shane’s cock, but his hips mercifully stilled. Shane whimpers, even that small movement almost too much for his oversensitive cock. He failed. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t give him what he needed. He opens his eyes tentatively, realising they are wet with tears. Sorry, he thinks, sorry Ilya. But Ilya doesn’t ask him to vocalise his apology. In fact, he doesn’t see any disdain written across his husband’s face at all. Ilya is looking down at him, awe beaming from his eyes, as he strokes his cock. Shane lies still, transfixed in his gaze, as his chest is coated in his release, Ilya’s hole clenching around him as he orgasms with a strained moan.

Shane doesn’t dare move lest he shatter this delicate moment. He just stares up at Ilya, hunkered over him and breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his brow. Maybe they can just stay here forever. They could just waste away on this couch long after their cocks are fully soft and the cum is crusted over, never to be seen again. People would understand. Wouldn’t they?

Eventually Ilya’s panting slows and he lets out a breathless laugh. Wordlessly he reaches past Shane’s shoulder to the floor below, retrieving his towel and — the Sharpie? But Shane didn’t earn a mark? Ilya clearly sees the confusion on his face but he just chuckles, uncapping the pen. Wait, but I — Shane barely gets halfway through the thought before he catches on. Ilya marks a single tally on his own hip, and teasingly squeezes his ass around his cock as he recaps the pen. Shane breaks out in a grin of his own. He supposes he did earn that.

He tries not to whimper as Ilya finally pulls himself off his cock, catching any rogue fluids with the towel. He just lays there, letting the afterglow wash over him, knowing that Ilya will be going now, leaving him alone to bask in this feeling. But Ilya, now up on his feet, reaches down to stroke his hair tenderly. Shane supposes that’s not against the rules. He melts at the touch, letting it guide him out of the blissful pit he had carved into the cushions.

Ilya leans down to place a single soft kiss on his crown.

“My good little fucktoy,” he murmurs into Shane’s ear. Shane can only watch as he rises and walks away, leaving him lying sticky and used on the couch.