Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov

Additional Tags:

Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Post-Canon, Summer Hockey Training, Light Dom/sub, Under-negotiated Kink, but they talk about it after, Shane Hollander's Praise Kink, Blow Jobs, Bratty Shane Hollander, Soft Dom Ilya Rozanov, Sub Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander's Cottage, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Hockey, hockey as foreplay, Written before Heated Rivalry (TV)

Language:

English

Collections:

The Off Season Fest

Stats:

Published: 2025-08-26 Words: 6,279 Chapters: 1/1

Powerful With a Little Bit of Tender

Summary

“We both know you love to be rewarded for being good and working hard,” Ilya tenderly stroked the side of Shane’s neck with his thumb. “But when you make a mistake, I think you would maybe like a little bit of punishment.” He squeezed again on the word “punishment,” tighter, tight enough to make Shane’s breath hitch.

Shane has a penalty box installed in his home practice rink at the cottage, and it inspires some new feelings in Ilya.

Part of The Off Season Fic Fest!

Notes

I’ve been working on this on and off for months, and I’m so excited to finally share it!

I know that Shane doesn’t have an actual ice rink at the cottage, but for the purposes of this fic, I needed it to be that way. Who knows, with their combined millions, maybe they had one built. Also, I am not an expert on dom/sub dynamics by any means. I know more about hockey than I do kink, and my writing should not be used as a guide to either.

Title is from "Make Me Feel" by Janelle Monáe (one of my ultimate Hollanov songs). Original working title: Sexy Sin Bin.

Thank you Nicofor being the best beta and cheerleader and for organizing this fest!

Ilya walked into the practice rink at the cottage, looking around with confusion. It was their second day back here for the summer since their camps ended, and the first day of Shane’s summer training regimen, which he had developed with some highly regarded personal trainer that Ilya had no interest in meeting. But he had agreed to participate in the training schedule. Ilya wouldn’t admit it, but they were getting older and he needed to put more effort in the summer to maintain his stamina.

So on their first day of training, Shane said he had a surprise in the rink to show Ilya.

“I see nothing,” he called back to Shane.

Shane slid up behind him on the ice, turned him 45 degrees and pointed.

“You put in a penalty box? Shane.” Ilya was incredulous. “Why?”

“Because you’re always committing penalties when we practice. I thought it would be good for you to practice actually having to sit them.” Shane said in a self-satisfied tone and crossed his arms.

“When did you do this?” Ilya was baffled, if not mildly amused. 

“I was working with a contractor during the season, it wasn’t that complicated, just had to add some walls and a door.” Shane shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal that he had been keeping an expensive secret from his husband for several months.

“You secretly hired a contractor to add a penalty box to our practice rink just to put me in my place, Hollander?”

“We need it, you’re way too aggressive sometimes.” Shane’s smug voice triggered something in Ilya. He couldn’t help it, Ilya had to tease him when he got like this.

“You love it, it turns you on.”

Shane blushed but ignored Ilya’s comment. “Whatever, it makes the space more authentic too.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know. I think maybe you had another reason.” Ilya’s voice turned silky.

“What reason?” Shane asked with a tilt of his head. 

Ilya slowly slinked closer, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “I think you want to be punished.” 

“What?” Shane sounded flustered, and Ilya savored it. 

“I think…” Ilya placed his hand on Shane’s shoulder, fingers crawling onto the back of his neck, and squeezed. “...you want to be punished.”

“Wh-what do you mean? Punished for what?”

“We both know you love to be rewarded for being good and working hard,” Ilya tenderly stroked the side of Shane’s neck with his thumb. “But when you make a mistake, I think you would maybe like a little bit of punishment.” He squeezed again on the word “punishment,” tighter, tight enough to make Shane’s breath hitch.

Shane’s cheeks were glowing pink. If they weren’t in layers of gear, Ilya was sure he’d see Shane getting hard in his shorts. His chest heaved with how heavily he was breathing, and they hadn’t even worked out yet. 

Combined with the way Shane’s pupils went black, his reaction sent a spark of hot need through Ilya. He wasn’t sure if Shane would be open to this kind of dynamic, a step beyond Shane’s obvious praise kink. But something in Ilya was coming alive with the simmering tension building between them, and he suspected Shane felt it too.

“When I make a mistake? When do I make mistakes?” Shane asked, eyes narrowing in defiance. 

Ilya’s stomach flipped at the blatant brattiness. Shane definitely felt it.

“Oh yes, perfect Shane Hollander. Four Stanley cups, three Conn Smythes, he would never make a mistake, would he?” Ilya teased. 

“Name one.” Shane challenged.

Another stomach flip. Ilya had to work hard to hold back a grin, and he felt blood rush to his dick.

“I don’t know… let’s see…” Ilya tapped his fingers lightly on the back of Shane’s neck as if he were thinking deeply, still not letting go. “I seem to remember someone tripping in the last minutes of game seven in the playoffs against me. And then I think I remember scoring the game winning goal to move onto the next round. Sound familiar to you?”

Shane flinched, and Ilya worried maybe he had gone too far. But Shane just narrowed his eyes again and spat, “Fuck. You.”

“You would like that, hm?” 

Through gritted teeth, Shane muttered, “No.”

“No?” 

“No, I would not like to fuck you, you arrogant asshole.”

Ilya couldn’t help but throw his head back in a mean laugh. “HA! That is a lie!”

Shane shrugged in an attempt to throw Ilya’s hand off his neck and shoulder, trying to turn away in a huff. 

Ilya squeezed tighter, halting Shane’s movement. His blood ran hot with how quickly Shane snapped back to stillness, eyes on his, submitting back to his control.

“Obviously even the great Shane Hollander can make mistakes. And he is a brat about it, too.” While he spoke, he closed the small space between them, forcing Shane to tilt his head back to hold eye contact. Ilya pushed his hips forward to get some pressure on his arousal and to let Shane know exactly what he was trying to do here.

Shane made a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, but his eyes stayed narrowed in defiance.

Oh yes.

“If you can be a good boy during our drills, if you don’t make any mistakes, and you don’t get too aggressive , you prove me wrong. And I will reward you.” Ilya’s voice was quiet but sharp, cutting into Shane with every word. He moved his other hand so he had one on both of Shane’s shoulders then squeezed, hard. “If you do make a mistake… sin bin for you.” 

He let Shane go, skated backwards a foot, and shrugged casually with a refreshed-sounding sigh, then clapped his hands and said, “Time for practice!” with a big smile. 

Shane just stared, frozen, jaw slack. He blinked a few times and shook his head, snapping out of the spell he’d been under.

“Um, yeah. Sure. Uh… let’s run some drills.”

Ilya smiled sweetly at him, “I will get the pucks!” and skated over to the bag they had brought into the rink. He also grabbed a stack of small cones and a couple of other barriers for the setup. Shane followed, taking an armful of their pre-taped sticks, without saying a word. The erotic tension was like static in the air, crackling between them, but they both ignored it as they set up for the first drill. 

They fell into their usual practice rhythm, starting with transitions and agility exercises, then moved on to passing drills, and puck handling. But all of Shane’s summer ease was gone, he skated with the intensity he brought during the season, the entire concept of rest abandoned. Ilya hadn’t really wanted to work that hard this morning, but he would keep pushing Shane to get to the payoff of whatever was building between them on the ice. 

The thing was, Shane wasn’t making any mistakes. And Ilya would be more than happy to reward him, but that wouldn’t be nearly as fun, not when the brand new penalty box was waiting to be christened. So, even though it wasn’t on Shane’s carefully planned summer training schedule, Ilya decided to make a suggestion.

“I think we should practice backhand goals now.”

Shane, deep in concentration, pulled up in a hard stop, sprinkling Ilya’s skates with snow. 

“Accuracy drills are scheduled for Thursdays. It’s Tuesday, we’re doing agility.” Shane said it like Ilya had suggested eating ice cream for dinner; he was insulted at the mere suggestion. 

With a devious smirk, Ilya said, “I know, but I think you need a challenge today, sweetheart.”

The pet name clued Shane into the fact that Ilya didn’t really care about practicing backhand goals at all.

“Why would that be a challenge for me, sweetheart?” Shane mocked, pushing all of Ilya’s buttons.

“I think you know why.” Ilya moved into Shane’s space, sliding him back and pressing him against the boards. 

“Fine. Backhand goals. Since you think I’m so bad at them.”

“I did not say that,” Ilya corrected in a placating tease.

“You implied it.”

“I am implying that you should shut up and get over by the goal.”

“That’s not what ‘imply’ means.”

Ilya rolled his eyes and steered Shane over to his spot by the goal to start passing pucks to him.

On the first pass, the puck slipped off the front curve of Shane’s stick, sending it just outside the bottom left of the net.

Ilya raised one eyebrow suggestively, and passed another puck over to Shane, who was frowning in concentration. He snapped his top hand back so hard this time that the puck went high over the right of the net.

“That’s two misses in a row, Hollander.” 

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Rozanov .”

Shane was losing his ability to concentrate, and Ilya savored it. 

“So we’re done here. Time for your punishment now?” 

“I’ll do one more. If I make it, we forget this punishment shit.”

“You don’t want to forget it, brat,“ Ilya’s tone went hard and mocking. “You want it so bad.“

“Fuck you, no I don’t.” Despite his words, Shane sounded flustered and Ilya narrowed his eyes.

“Fine, take the shot. If you make it, I believe you. No punishment. We just have a normal day.” He shrugged as casually as he could when he was so worked up inside. 

Ilya noticed the way Shane’s Adam's apple bobbed when we swallowed and he bit his lip — he really wasn’t sure what he wanted, Ilya could tell. And he meant what he said, if Shane wanted him to, he’d let it go. But he knew his husband well, and something in Shane’s eyes told Ilya he was curious and turned the fuck on. So he passed one more puck to Shane, who slapped it hard toward Ilya. His head snapped back as the puck whizzed over his shoulder — nowhere near the net. It made Ilya’s dick twitch again.

He tossed his stick off to the side, not really caring where it went, and skated intently over to Shane, who stood stock still. Ilya grabbed Shane’s stick and threw it over near his, pushing Shane backwards toward his stupid penalty box — he was pliant, didn’t resist or skate away, but the look in Shane’s dark eyes was shimmering with defiance.

Ilya didn’t have much of a plan here, it had all just come to him on a whim. If he were to plan ahead, he’d probably have more accessories and props. Probably something to bind Shane’s hands or a blindfold, maybe both. Maybe nipple clamps? Shane might hate that, he was a baby about pain. Though he might love the challenge of enduring it. But those thoughts were for another time, he would see how today went first.

When they got to the penalty box, Shane moved to get in, but Ilya grabbed his arm and tsked, pulling him back.

“What now?” Shane snapped.

“So touchy,” Ilya tsked again. “Take off your gear.”

“What, all of it?”

“Enough for me to get to your dick.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

Fire blazed inside Ilya. His cock hardened in his jock, and he had to take a breath to steady himself. If Shane was going to be such a brat, Ilya would treat him like one.

He growled and slid over to him, shedding his gloves behind him like he was about to throw a punch. He jerked down Shane’s shorts, his jock, then his moisture-wicking underwear. Ilya was once again annoyed that Shane insisted on putting on full gear for practice, even in the summer. His shorts didn’t go far with the shin guards still on. But it was enough to get Shane’s cock out. He was half-hard and getting harder.

Ilya looked at him appraisingly before reaching out with his big hand and grasping Shane’s dick and balls, holding just tight enough to make Shane squeak in surprise. Then Ilya squeezed a little tighter and spoke soft but firmly.

“Take. Off. Your. Gear.” He bit out each whispered word right into Shane’s ear.

Shane shuddered, and Ilya felt him harden in his hands. 

“Good boy.”

Shane whimpered, tossed off his gloves and then removed the jersey he was wearing, throwing it on the ice, followed by his shoulder and elbow pads.

Ilya was still grasping him in his hand. “Now go in the box and take off the rest.”

“The bench is really hard,” Shane complained.

“Maybe you should have had the fucking contractor you hired put in a cushion.”

Shane grumbled, but obeyed. He stepped into the box and leaned down to remove his skates, followed by everything else he was wearing, except his socks.

Ilya raised his eyebrows. “I said take off the rest. That includes socks.”

“Come on, my feet are going to be cold,” Shane whined.

Ilya sighed. “You are such a brat. But you look slutty in the socks, I will allow it. Now sit.”

Shane sat down carefully on the bench, flinching a little at the hard surface, and sitting forward on the seat to spare his balls. He crossed his arms petulantly. Ilya wanted to devour him.

“Now what?”

“Stroke yourself.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now. Do not come.”

Shane seemed unsure, but he took himself in his hand and started a slow lazy stroke, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Faster.” Ilya growled.

“I need lube.” Shane seemed to forget what exactly they were doing right now, and Ilya relished the chance to remind him.

“Oh, does the princess need lube?” He teased.

“Fuck you.”

“This is your punishment, Hollander, and you will do what I say. Faster. And keep your eyes on me.”

The strict instruction lit Shane up, even from here Ilya could see his pupils go wide, and his spine straightened the tiniest bit. He started going faster, letting out little grunts of pleasure, and Ilya could tell he was going to be close already.

“Stop.”

Shane didn’t stop, so Ilya reached his hand through the open gate of the penalty box and smacked Shane’s hand off his cock, brushing his balls in the process and causing Shane to gasp.

“You are not very good at listening,” Ilya reprimanded.

“S-sorry,” Shane breathed out. “I got caught up.”

“I know, I know,” Ilya cooed. “Always so eager. But you need to listen to me, okay?”

Shane nodded. Ilya grasped his jaw tightly and said, “Use your words. Will you listen to me?”

“Yes.” Shane whimpered.

“Good. Because I am going to suck you off now, but you are not going to come, okay?”

“Yes.”

“You will only come when I say, understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You are being very good for your punishment.” Ilya’s gaze lingered adoringly on Shane’s pink cheeks and heaving chest, and he was overcome with affection and arousal.

A beast inside Ilya had roared to life with the urge to put Shane in his place when he was being so bratty, and it purred now. Being in control like this made Ilya feel powerful and drunk with lust. He wanted to devour Shane and taste every sweet morsel of his obedience until Shane couldn’t contain his need any longer. Then he wanted to be the guardrails keeping Shane together when he lost control and spilled over with pleasure. 

“Hold your cock for me, but do not stroke it,” Ilya instructed.

Shane nodded and grasped his hard length in his hand, eyes wide, breaths heavy, and tracking Ilya’s every move. Ilya slowly removed his own jersey, elbow and shoulder pads, and unstrapped his shin guards, leaving on his performance shirt underneath, while Shane sat, erection hard and heavy, waiting for his next move. Ilya wasn’t getting naked, that wasn’t what this was, but he needed more freedom of movement.

Ilya knelt down in front of Shane, pushed his legs wider so he could slot in between them in the small space of the penalty box. He pushed Shane’s hand off his cock to replace it with his own, offering a teasing caress that he knew was not nearly enough of what Shane wanted. 

“Remember, be a good boy and do not come until I say so.”

“I won’t.” Shane shook his head, breathless.

Ilya didn’t hesitate any longer. He took the head of Shane’s cock in his hot mouth and suckled, swirling his tongue and lapping at it. Shane wailed with the intensity of Ilya’s attention on the sensitive spot, attempting to buck his hips, but held firmly in place by Ilya’s grip, his thumbs pressing hard into the crease of Shane’s legs. Ilya let the spit collect in his mouth as he worked Shane’s tip, then pulled off and let it drip down between his lips in a line down Shane’s cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Shane breathed out, and he moved a hand toward Ilya’s face. But Ilya snatched his wrist and held it in place.

He tsked his tongue a few times, shaking his head. “No touching. Part of your punishment. Sit on your hands if you have to.”
“But—”

“Sit on them,” Ilya’s tone was hard as granite, and Shane pushed both hands under his thighs in an instant. “Good boy. You almost forgot to listen.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane whispered.

The apology ricocheted through Ilya’s head, bounced around his stomach like a pinball, and landed hard in his throbbing cock. Shane was being so good for him, it was going to be difficult to maintain the edge in his voice, to stop from giving in and letting Shane reach out to run his hands through Ilya’s hair. But Shane could take more, and Ilya wanted to give it to him, if only to reward him later.

“That’s better,” he cooed. 

Ilya wrapped his warm fingers around the base of Shane’s cock, and put his mouth back on the head, returning to sucking and licking. He stroked up to meet his mouth, bobbing his head ever so slightly, but mostly keeping the wet heat of his mouth in the same spot. He could feel Shane’s thighs twitching, see how his abs flexed with every panted breath, noticed the extreme restraint Shane was using to keep his hands from reaching out for Ilya. 

He continued for several minutes, keeping the suction on Shane’s head tight and stroking firmly with increasing speed. Shane was whimpering and begging incoherently, little “ah, ah, ah” sounds punctuating Ilya’s relentless strokes. When Ilya could tell Shane was close, he removed his mouth with a pop.

“So good for me. See how much better it is when you are a good boy?”

Ilya continued stroking from base to tip, Shane’s cock now slick with his spit, rubbing his thumb in a circle around Shane’s head, torturously slowly, then back down. Shane just nodded and opened his mouth, but no words came out. 

“Answer me.” Ilya stopped moving his hand. “Is it better when you are a good boy?”

Shane’s breaths were coming out in short bursts with the effort it took him to be still. He let out a short, choked, “yes” followed by a whimpered, “Ilya, please.”

“Please what?”

“Fuck… just… please. ”

“I do not know what you want if you do not tell me, sweetheart.” He punctuated his sentence with a tight squeeze to Shane’s cockhead, then returned his mouth to the spot, suckling softly.

“Please… Ilya… I need… more. ” 

Shane’s breathy, high pitched pleas made Ilya’s body tingle with arousal. 

“Okay, moy lyubimiy. You have been so good, so obedient. I will give you what you need.”

Shane puffed out a relieved breath.

“Can I… can I move my… hands?”

“Yes, Solnyshko.”

Ilya took Shane all the way to the base, letting his cock hit the back of Ilya’s throat. Shane moaned loudly as he pushed his hands into Ilya’s curls, grasping tightly, but not pulling. He could tell Shane needed something to hold onto, something to tether himself to Ilya, ground himself in their connection, or he might float away in the heady and overwhelming pleasure.

Ilya sucked hard and fast, allowing Shane to pump his hips slightly, pressing further into Ilya’s throat. He had earned this reward, and Ilya was grateful to be able to give it to him. He was grateful Shane trusted him to bring them to this point — through the tension, the push and pull, and ultimately grateful for Shane’s exquisite submission to his own desire to relinquish control, even just for a short time. 

Shane was wound up so tightly, so rigid and strict in his anxious drive to have control of his career and his health. But Shane trusted Ilya enough to let him carry the burden of control right now, and Ilya never felt so loved as when Shane allowed Ilya to take care of him. The trust — more than Shane’s whimpers, his pleas, his delicious and powerful body — the trust is what turned Ilya on the most. So much so that he was at risk of coming in his jock with the feeling of Shane’s hands in his hair and cock down his throat. 

“Fuck, Ilya, I’m —” Shane couldn’t finish the sentence before he bucked one more time and groaned deep from his gut, eyes squeezing shut as he came. Ilya thought he saw a stray tear escape the corner of Shane’s eye, and his heart exploded while he swallowed Shane’s powerful release. His husband was so beautiful all the time, of course, but so beautiful when he came. 

Shane canted forward as Ilya pulled off of him, meeting in the middle to press their foreheads together. Ilya sat up on his knees and pulled Shane’s limp body into his arms, squeezing him tightly and peppering his face with kisses.

“So good, Shane, you were so good for me.” Ilya let out a long string of praise, keeping Shane’s body wrapped in his arms. “I’m here, sweetheart, let me hold you. You did so so well, moy lyubimiy.”

Shane just nodded, he seemed really out of it, and worry pulled at Ilya’s gut. He lifted Shane’s head from his shoulder and held it in both his hands.

“Shane, are you okay? Talk to me.”

“Yes, yes, I’m good, fuck, I’m so good Ilya.” Shane’s face was slack, but he was smiling. “Thank you. That was…” Shane just signed and leaned in for a tender kiss. 

His fears assuaged, Ilya kissed back for a few seconds, then said, “Let me get your clothes, you will get too cold. I will carry you home.”

He sat Shane back down on the bench, pulling his boxer briefs up his legs, nudging his arms up to put his performance shirt back on. That should be enough to walk back to the house. He wrapped one arm under Shane hoisting him up.

“I’m good, I can walk.”

“But your skates… let me carry you off the ice.”

“We have to clean up, Ilya,” Shane protested limply.

Ilya couldn’t help but laugh and roll his eyes. So much for Shane letting go of control. 

“I will come back to clean up later. Now, I get you under some blankets and get you a snack.”

Shane sighed, but Ilya could see the softness in his eyes when he said, “okay” and patted Ilya’s cheek. 

“Good boy.” Ilya smiled warmly and Shane laughed deeply, shaking both of them. 

They made it back to the cottage and Ilya placed Shane delicately on the couch and wrapped him up in blankets. He brought Shane the remaining half of his morning smoothie and a banana, and sat with him while he ate. Shane rested his feet in Ilya’s lap, and Ilya gazed reverently at the incredible man he married, rubbing his shins and smiling softly.

When Shane was finished with his snack, Ilya spoke tentatively. He wasn’t sure how to broach what they just did without making Shane uncomfortable, but he had to try.

“So… that was okay?” Ilya asked.

“I mean, I came so hard I almost couldn’t walk, I think it’s pretty clear it was good.” Shane chuckled.

“But before that. The ah… punishment part?” Ilya held Shane’s gaze and melted at the blush that bloomed behind the freckles on his cheeks.

“Um… yeah… that was, uh, good, too.” Shane’s eyes dropped to his lap but he was smiling timidly, and Ilya didn’t want to press too hard. He knew Shane hated talking about this stuff. But Ilya needed to know he hadn’t crossed a line.

“Yes? I was not… too harsh?” The tremor in Ilya’s voice betrayed how scared he was that he had pushed Shane too far. 

This prompted Shane’s eyes back up, sincerity burning bright in his gaze. “No, not at all, Ilya. I hope it was clear that I was, like, into it.” He reached a hand out to grasp one of Ilya’s. “I know my backhand isn’t my best skill, but I really hope you know that I missed those shots on purpose. ”

Ilya breathed out a sigh of relief, making Shane indignant. “You really thought I genuinely missed those shots? Come on, you have to have more faith in me than that! We won a fucking Stanley Cup together!”

Ilya tossed his head back in laughter, relieved to be back to their banter. “I do not know, Hollander, your backhand is very weak.” He giggled while Shane lightly kicked the feet Ilya held in his lap.

“Seriously, Ilya. It was good. I guess it might have been good to, like, talk about something like that beforehand? But I trust you. I always trust you.”

At those words, Ilya was overcome. He pushed Shane’s feet off his lap and crawled up the couch until he was on top of his husband, between his spread legs. Arms braced on either side of Shane’s head, he leaned down and kissed him slow and sweet. 

When he came up for air, Shane said, “But what about you? I got off, and you just took me back here without any reciprocation.”

Ilya shook his head. “I do not need to come to be satisfied. That was so good for me too.” He thought about it for a second. “You can get me later,” he quipped with a smirk and a smack of a kiss on Shane’s cheek.

“So, would now be a good time for me to remind you that you said you’d clean up all the equipment from the ice…?” Shane asked with raised eyebrows.

“Ugh, fine fine, I will clean up.” He pointed at Shane as he walked away, “But I am coming back for lunch and for my re-cip-ro-ca-tion.” He enunciated the last word carefully. 

Shane grinned widely back at him and said, “Good boy.” Ilya’s laughter followed him out the door.

****

By the time Ilya had put away all their practice gear from the rink, it was time for lunch, and then Shane was eager to get back to their training schedule. Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t mind the morning’s diversion, but he couldn’t let them get too off track on day one of the schedule he’d worked so hard to develop. Rather than the reciprocation Ilya hoped for, Shane steered them to the gym. 

If he was being honest, Shane was still reeling from the heady intensity of the morning. He didn’t know what had gotten into Ilya, but as with most things Ilya did, Shane was turned on and all-in the moment it started. The man had him wrapped around his little finger now as much as he did when they were 19 and sneaking into hotel rooms for a quick fuck. 

So Shane had to do what he did best. Ignore his complicated, scary feelings by exercising. He had therapy next week, so he’d maybe deal with it then. Maybe not. He really hated talking to Patty about anything sexual, even though he knew she was completely nonjudgmental about it. And that in itself was something he should work on… this is why he didn’t want to even think about it. One thought spiraled into the next, and then he was buried under them.

But this morning, when he was focused on following Ilya’s instructions, on not touching and not coming and being good , nothing else really mattered. His brain miraculously cleared. It usually did during sex with Ilya, but this was another level. All he knew was: listen to Ilya, be good, listen to Ilya, be good, until he came. And even as Ilya carried him off the ice and wrapped him up in blankets, his mind stayed blissfully clear. It took a good 15 minutes for the nagging voice in his head to remind him of the mess they’d left behind.

He was spinning his wheels mentally while spinning on the stationary bike, snapping out of his trance when the machine beeped that his time was up. Ilya was on the bike next to him and they both slowed their pace. 

“You’re thinking very hard over there, solnyshko,” Ilya says, keeping his eyes forward. “Are you sure everything is fine? With this morning?”

Shane sighed. He hated when Ilya got like this, overly worried that something was wrong. “I told you it’s fine, why don’t you believe me?”

“I believe you,” Ilya raised his arms in surrender. “You are not the only one who worries.”

“I’m good, Ilya.” Shane chuckled lightly. “I’m just sorting through my feelings, trying to not avoid thinking about something uncomfortable for once.”

“In this case, I am proud of you.” Now Ilya turned to smile at Shane, a real genuine smile that melted Shane’s heart. 

Damnit, why did he have to look at Shane like that while saying stuff like that ? Was Shane really going to get hard from Ilya saying he’s proud of him? The answer was yes, most likely.

They slowed to a stop and got off their bikes, and Ilya reached his arms out to beckon Shane in for a hug. Shane sunk into him, and Ilya placed a firm kiss on his temple.

“You did so good today, and you are doing so good in therapy, and I love you.” Ilya whispered. It was heartfelt and overwhelmingly sweet. Yet, somehow, it was also a huge turn-on. Shane tried to mentally force his dick to stop hardening, but it was no use. 

“Shane…” Ilya grinned into his temple, and Shane knew he was feeling it. “Are you getting turned on by me saying I am proud of you?”

Shane buried his head in Ilya’s chest, laughing silently, “Maybe…”

“You are such a slut, I cannot take you anywhere.”

“We’re at home!”

“Is an expression.” Ilya dotted a kiss on the crown on Shane’s head affectionately. “And you are also a brat.”

Shane laughed more, pulling his face up and flashing Ilya a winning smile. “You love it.”

Ilya tilted his hips forward, and Shane’s breath hitched at the sensation of Ilya’s hard cock pressing into his own. 

“I do,” Ilya almost growled in his ear. “I think now is time for my reciprocation. ”

Shane momentarily wondered if Ilya even knew what that word meant, beyond being his turn to come, but that was a question for later.

“We still haven’t showered,” Shane complained, but only half-heartedly, already rubbing his hand along Ilya’s length over his shorts.

“I do not think you care about that,” Ilya hummed with pleasure into Shane’s ear.

“I don’t, fuck, I need you in my mouth, Ilya.”

Shane pushed him toward the workout bench until Ilya was seated and leaning back, legs spread wide. He knelt down in front of Ilya, and nuzzled up against his jutting cock, inhaling the sweaty musk. Shane was normally so particular about cleanliness, but it’s possible Ilya rewired his brain that morning, because all Shane wanted was to breathe in the sweat and heat and get Ilya in his mouth. 

“So eager for me,” Ilya rumbled, running a hand through Shane’s hair then gripping tightly on the back of his head, causing Shane to whimper. “Yes, kotyonok, you love it.”

Shane slid his hands up Ilya’s broad, muscular thighs, relishing the tickle of hair under his fingertips. He reached until his fingers met the crease of Ilya’s hips, then spread his thumbs to brush the base of Ilya’s cock. Ilya jerked Shane’s head back by his hair in surprise and Shane whimpered again. Without thinking, he pulled forward and took the head of Ilya’s protruding cock in his mouth over the thin cloth of his shorts. Fuck this fabric, he needed him now. 

Ilya moaned through a laugh and pulled Shane’s head back again. 

“So impatient. Here.” Ilya lifted his hips, and Shane pulled his shorts down and off, revealing the rigid length he was so desperate for. 

Ilya tasted bitter and salty with the built-up sweat from their workout, and Shane savored it. It was purely Ilya, no fragranced soaps to mask his natural smell, and Shane was salivating for it. He swirled his tongue around Ilya’s head and pushed down his foreskin, causing Ilya to gasp and reach his other hand forward so that both were gripping Shane’s hair. 

Shane looked up and held Ilya’s fiery gaze as he slid his mouth slowly down, taking as much of Ilya as he could, and swallowing around him. Ilya shuddered and Shane smiled around his cock. But he didn’t pull back, he stayed there, and nodded as much as he could with his mouth full of Ilya. He was ready and needed Ilya to take control.

After years of fucking and intimacy and learning each other’s subtlest movements, Ilya understood Shane implicitly. So Ilya gripped Shane’s hair tightly, slowly guiding him up, and Shane kept his jaw slack and let his tongue do the work of teasing Ilya along the way. Shane wanted to let Ilya set the pace, let him take control again while Shane’s mind went blissfully blank. 

Rather than guiding Shane back down his cock, Ilya held Shane’s head in place with his firm grip, and began thrusting his hips slowly into Shane’s warm, waiting mouth. Shane gripped Ilya’s hip bones tightly, digging his nails into the flesh there to keep himself stable — and to let Ilya know how fucking amazing so fucking good don’t stop this felt. Ilya’s girth stretched Shane’s lips wide and the tight pull on his jaw sent a shiver down his spine and blood rushing to his own hardening cock.

With the next thrust, Ilya pushed a little deeper into Shane’s mouth and held there for an extended moment. Shane groaned around him and felt Ilya tremble with the vibrations from deep in his throat. Spit was starting to drip out of Shane’s mouth, but he didn’t care, he was relishing the visceral pleasure of Ilya coming undone in his mouth. 

Ilya continued to thrust, holding Shane in place with his strong hands, and moaning out praise between grunts of pleasure.

“So good for me, so sweet, your mouth, fuck, let me feel you, fuck Shane, you are everything.”

Shane was getting lightheaded in the best way, with the combined efforts of keeping himself still and jaw open and the rush of blood between his legs. He didn’t think that after coming so hard earlier he would be ready to burst again so soon, but he was at risk of making a mess in his shorts at this point. 

He noticed Ilya’s forearms begin to tremble with effort, and the thrusts of his hips became irregular, and Shane knew that he was close. Shane started swiping his tongue to match the rhythm of Ilya’s thrusts, making Ilya cry out with the intensity of his pleasure. 

He started praising Shane in Russian, and Shane only caught some of the words, he was concentrating too hard on making this perfect for Ilya. After all he did for Shane earlier, he wanted Ilya to feel the satisfaction he deserved. 

Ilya’s hips were stuttering and he choked out, “Shane—” before holding Shane’s head still and shuddering his release into the back of Shane’s throat. Shane removed one hand from Ilya’s hip down to his rigid cock to give it the faintest touch over his shorts. Combined the heat of Ilya coming into his open mouth and the sound of Ilya’s whimpers, that slight brush was enough to have Shane shuddering and coming in his shorts with tiny thrusts into the air. 

Ilya finally released Shane’s head from his hands and fell back with deep heaving breaths onto the workout bench. Shane caught his breath as well, wiping the puddle of drool from his chin with the back of his hand, and admiring the mess that was his husband — cock out, sweat dripping down his temple and shimmering on his chest, grinning stupidly back at him.

Shane sat back on his heels, both hands back on Ilya’s thighs to steady himself and stroking absentmindedly. He looked at Ilya with questioning eyes, leaving the question unsaid — was I good? Did I do a good job?

Ilya’s smile softened and he nodded, saying once again, “So good for me, moy lyubov. Come here.”

Shane sat up and inched closer to Ilya, who reached out and wrapped his arms around his husband, a soothing hand rubbing across his back, the other hand massaging the scalp he had been pulling tight minutes before. 

Still in Ilya’s warm embrace, Shane looked up at him and quietly said, “I love you…” before kissing him softly. 

When he pulled back, Shane finished his thought, “...but we really need to shower now.”

Ilya laughed loudly and Shane giggled into the crook of his neck, and they left the gym to finally shower.