Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Scott Hunter (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

POV Shane Hollander, Book 2: Heated Rivalry (Game Changers), Anxious Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov is a Menace, Texting, Slight Canon Divergence, Licking, Rimming, Anal Sex, Banter, feelings are there but idiot boys are pretending they aren't, Hockey, Dumb Hockey Boys, Written before Heated Rivalry (TV), Jealous Shane Hollander, Light Angst, The Spirit of Brad Marchand

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2025-06-27 Words: 3,861 Chapters: 1/1

using his tongue as a weapon

Summary

Shane: why do you keep licking guys during games? what’s wrong with you?

Lily: aw hollander are you jealous?

Ilya starts a habit of licking players on other teams during games, and Shane really doesn't appreciate it. But Ilya saves some licking just for him.

Notes

Inspired by that time Brad Marchand licked a bunch of people. This doesn't fit neatly in the Heated Rivalry timeline, but I'd place it in their 2015 season.

Thank you princebutt for your comments and encouragement! And thank you discord friends for inspiring this fic, matching my level of love for the Hollanovs, and being generally awesome!

Shane’s phone buzzed on his dresser. He was getting ready for bed and assumed it was his mom with some last minute thoughts on his game tomorrow. But it was Hayden.

Hayden: this guy’s such a dickhead

The text included a link to a TSN video with the headline: 

Boston Bears’ Ilya Rozanov licks NY Admirals’ Scott Hunter 

Shane blinked a few times, he couldn’t be reading that right, could he?

But yes, it really said that Rozanov licked Hunter.

Maybe they were just using the old fashioned word for fighting, like 1920s boxing or whatever? Rozanov and Hunter were usually pretty chippy with each other. 

Shane tapped open the notification and, well, yep, there it was. A video clip from the Bears vs Admirals game that had just ended.

The incident started normally, Rozanov was chirping Hunter, who got right up in Rozanov’s face. Knowing Rozanov, he probably deserved whatever Hunter was about to do.

But instead of shoving Hunter away, Rozanov leaned in, stuck out his tongue, and licked Hunter on the face. Licked him. Rozanov licked him.

The clip ended with Hunter shoving Rozanov hard in the chest and the ref coming up to break them apart.

Just to be sure he was seeing right, Shane played the clip again. Rozanov licked Hunter’s face again.

Shane watched the clip again. And again. Each time, he clenched his jaw a little harder, gripped his phone a little tighter. 

Rozanov was always an arrogant asshole, especially on the ice, that was basically his whole brand. But this was just over the line. He never took anything seriously and it infuriated Shane. 

Another text from Hayden popped up, shaking Shane out of his anger spiral.

Hayden: ur probably asleep but just saying, if rozanov tries to lick u i’ll kill him

Shane’s cheeks warmed with a blush, and he was glad Hayden wasn’t here to see his reaction.

Because, well… Rozanov had licked Shane. Many times. And Shane definitely didn’t mind those licks.

But he did NOT want Rozanov to lick him on the ice. Because it was rude, unsanitary, and embarrassing for him. And not for any other reason at all. 

And if he did, Shane would just let Hayden try to kill him… maybe with JJ backing him up.

***

Less than a week later, Shane was scrolling on his phone and drinking coffee in a hotel room in Toronto, and another headline with Rozanov’s name appeared on his screen.

Hockey Commentary: Why does Ilya Rozanov keep licking his opponents and should he be stopped?

Shane rolled his eyes but tapped the article.

Ilya Rozanov, captain and star center of the Boston Bears’, has found a new and unconventional way to get under his opponents’ skin — licking them. 

We thought it would be a one-time occurance when the 2014 Stanley Cup winner licked New York Admirals’ captain Scott Hunter during a dust-up Monday. 

“I can’t speculate about what Rozanov was thinking, I don’t want to know what goes on in that guy’s mind,” Hunter responded when questioned about the incident.

However, in last night’s matchup against Philadelphia, Rozanov once again used his tongue as a weapon against Philly defender Alfred Nilsson.

VIDEO BELOW: ROZANOV LICKS AGAIN

The pair began to scuffle after Rozanov appeared to bump into Philly’s goalie, Logan Johnson. When Nilsson leaned in to say something to Rozanov, the Russian superstar licked Nilsson’s cheek, then skated away before the refs could break them apart. 

When asked to comment after the game, Rozanov said, “He was so close to my face, I think that is what he wanted, and I’m a generous guy.”

Shane scoffed and stopped reading, throwing his phone on the bed. He didn’t need to read any more of that. He paced furiously around the room, overcome with annoyance and dislike. Rozanov was making a mockery of the game. That’s what it was. He was unprofessional and never faced any consequences for it. 

Shane had to say something to him, someone needed to intervene. His teammates and coaches were probably encouraging it, the jerks. Shane grabbed his phone.

Shane: what the hell is wrong with you?

Lily: good morning to you too

Shane: well?

Lily: what are you talking about?

Shane: why do you keep licking guys during games? what’s wrong with you?

Lily: aw hollander are you jealous?

Shane: no! it’s unprofessional and gross

Lily: you want me to save my licks just for you?

Shane: fuck off 

Lily: you texted me

Shane: my mistake, goodbye

Lily: don’t go, i promise i will only lick you. i know you like it

Shane: GOODBYE

Shane threw his phone on the bed again and at that exact moment, someone knocked on his door, making Shane jump. He opened it for Hayden — they had plans to walk to breakfast together — and stomped back into the room.

“Whoa, why are you so mad right now, dude?” Hayden asked as he stepped in the door.

“I’m not mad!” Shane barked.

“Whatever you say,” Hayden held his hands up and backed away. “What’s up then?”

“Nothing, sorry,” Shane sighed. “Did you see Rozanov licked Nilsson yesterday? That guy just drives me crazy.”

Hayden laughed, “Yeah, what a fucking weirdo!”

“It’s unprofessional and disgusting.” It was the refrain Shane had been repeating in his head when he was pacing the room, blocking out any other sneaky thoughts that might be lingering in the back of his mind.

“Dude, I swear, we won’t let him get near you enough to lick you when we play Boston next week, I know you’re a germaphobe. JJ and I have already talked about it, we’ll kick his ass if he tries anything.”

“You guys don’t need to do that, I can handle him.”

“Seriously Shane, just say the word, I’ll take any excuse to punch Rozanov.”

This made Shane laugh a little, then he said, “Let’s just get breakfast. I don’t want to talk about Rozanov anymore.”

He picked up his room key and his phone, Hayden walking out the door in front of him. On his lockscreen he saw one more text.

Lily: see you next week 😜

***

In the days leading up to Montreal’s game against Boston, Shane was doing everything he could to not think about Rozanov. It wasn’t easy — everyone on the team kept joking about who he was going to lick this time and how it would definitely be Shane.

He didn’t want to be thinking about Rozanov’s tongue more than he already did, especially when anticipating their likely encounter after the game. And he really wanted to avoid the nagging thought in the back of his mind that kept trying to weasel its way to the front. He just wanted a clean victory for Montreal and to move on. 

The whole game, Shane was extra antagonistic to Rozanov, who remained remarkably restrained. Of course, that drove Shane even more crazy than Rozanov’s usual antics. Where was his menace of a rival? He was like a different person tonight.

Every time Shane slammed him a little too hard into the boards or cut him off on a breakaway, even after a high-stick that should definitely have been a penalty, Rozanov just skated off like nothing had happened. No chirps, no hits, nothing. It made Shane want to hit him harder. It didn’t help that Boston was up by two goals with only 10 minutes remaining, and Montreal’s offense seemed to be collapsing. Shane was losing his discipline, anger rising with every second closer to the end of the game, making it even harder for him to concentrate on scoring. 

On a particularly frustrating shift, Rozanov had stolen the puck from Shane and was making a dash for Montreal’s goal, and Shane raced after him as hard as he could. He slammed into Rozanov, toppling him to the ice. Shane looked down at him, breathing hard. The game continued around them, but it was like they were frozen in time, holding each other’s gaze. 

Rozanov smirked crookedly, his eyes dancing, but didn’t say a word. Shane didn’t move, just seethed, hands making tight fists in his gloves, eyes daring — almost begging — Rozanov to say or do something. But Rozanov didn’t say a word. He just dusted himself off and made his way to the bench for a shift change, smirk still on his lips.

In the end, Comeau had scored one more goal for Montreal, but it wasn’t enough, and Boston walked away with the W. 

Shane didn’t speak at all on their way down the tunnel, and punched his stall when they got to the dressing room, before sinking down onto the bench with gritted teeth.

Hayden sat down next to him. “Hey man, tough loss, but it’s still early in the season. We’ll get ‘em next time.”

Shane just nodded and grunted. He knew he was overreacting. Hayden was right, they had a great record this year, and it was early still. But somehow Rozanov really got under his skin tonight, more than usual, and he couldn’t figure out why. He’d been a terror to other teams so far this season, but tonight he was quiet and tame. Why did that bother Shane so much? He should be glad he hadn’t had to put up with hostility from Rozanov tonight. But he felt unsatisfied, not just from losing the game. 

“At least Rozanov didn’t lick you like we thought he would! The league must have told him to quit it.”

Shane’s gut lurched, but he stayed slumped with his head down.

“Yeah, at least that,” he mumbled.

Hayden patted him on the shoulder and said, “Come on, bud, let’s shower and get out of here. Tomorrow’s another day.”

What Hayden didn’t know was that Shane was going to face Rozanov one more time that night, and he really wasn’t sure what to expect.

***

Once he was back in his hotel room, Shane pulled out his phone to text Rozanov, but he hesitated. He started typing then backspaced, unable to bring himself to hit send on his message asking what time they were meeting up. 

Rozanov had neglected him on the ice tonight. It didn’t make sense to Shane, but that’s how it felt. Shane had come to expect that when Montreal played Boston, the whole game was almost like foreplay for them. He expected Rozanov to push his buttons and rile him up until Shane was buzzing with anticipation — and then to undo it all and leave Shane sated and satisfied. 

Tonight, it almost felt like Rozanov might not want him to come over, and Shane didn’t want to risk the mortification of being rejected or left on read. He continued to hesitate until he was jolted out of his thoughts by a text appearing on the screen.

Lily: you have been writing a text to me for like 5 minutes, are you writing a novel?

Shane: what??

Lily: the three little dots. they keep showing up, going away, showing up, going away

Lily: i was going to text you, but i saw the little dots, so i waited

Shane didn’t expect this potential third source of mortification — worse than rejection or being ignored — Rozanov witnessing his anxiety spiral unfold in real time via little dots. He had to pause a moment to figure out how to respond without telling the truth. 

Shane: i was just distracted

Lily: are you coming over or not?

Shane sighed, here was the Rozanov he was used to.

Shane: yeah ok. when?

Lily: now

Shane hated how quickly he jumped up to leave, always embarrassingly eager. 

Shane: be there in 10

On the ride over to Rozanov’s condo, Shane replayed the game in his head, getting himself riled up again. Honestly, how dare Rozanov be chill on the ice tonight? Was he trying to trick Shane somehow? Was this just another level of his depravity? By the time Shane arrived, he had worked himself up, ready for a confrontation.

He knocked on the door and heard Rozanov call out “is open!” Shane tentatively opened the door and was immediately ambushed by Rozanov, who pulled him in, shut the door, and pushed Shane up against it forcefully.

“What the fuck?!” Shane yelped. “What are you doing, Rozanov?” Shane was struggling against him but couldn’t move with Rozanov’s big hands grasping his biceps, holding Shane against the door. “The whole game you were on your best behavior, never pushed me back or retaliated, and now you’re attacking me? What the hell?”

He just stared at Shane with that sexy, snarky grin and the same glint in his eye Shane noticed during the game. After a minute, Shane relented and stopped struggling.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but it was cut off with a gasp when Rozanov stuck out his long tongue and slowly licked Shane all the way from the base of his neck, up his jaw, to the tip of his cheekbone. 

Rozanov pulled back and smiled with satisfaction.

“This is what you wanted, no? All night, you wanted me to, didn’t you? Pushing me and high-sticking me, trying to get my attention. Wanted me to lick you.” He finished his sentence with another little lick on Shane’s chin. 

Shane was shocked speechless for a second. Not only was he totally taken aback by Rozanov’s tongue swiping across his face, he was also taken aback by the fact that it was exactly what he wanted. The lightbulb clicked on, Shane’s cheeks turning deep red as the realization hit. The whole game, he was goading Rozanov, trying to get him worked up, all in anticipation of being the next opponent he licked. And Rozanov fucking knew it. That’s why he didn’t fight back, that’s why he was so tame on the ice for the first time in his life. All for this exact moment.

And Shane, fucking damn it, Shane was so turned on, he couldn’t even argue. He let out a weak whisper of a “yes,” eyes locked on Rozanov’s.

“I know, Hollander. I know you wanted me to lick you in front of everyone. But our licks, those stay private, yes?”

Shane nodded. 

Rozanov licked up the other side of Shane’s neck, and this time, Shane rolled his head to the side to give him more room. Instead of pulling away, Rozanov licked all the way up to Shane’s ear to suck the lobe into his mouth, then backed off and let his soft breath cool the wet skin. 

“Where else do you want me to lick you, Hollander?” he whispered.

Shane let out a shaky breath. “Um…” was all he could muster in response.

“Here?” Rozanov pulled down the collar of Shane’s t-shirt and lightly licked Shane’s right collarbone, then the left.

He slid his hands down Shane’s biceps to his wrists, bringing one up to his mouth. 

“Here?” He licked over the pulse-point of Shane’s wrist.

Shane’s whole body was humming with anticipation. He’d had a lot of sex with Rozanov over the years, but this was hands-down the most erotic moment of his life. He couldn’t move, only wait for whatever Rozanov would do next. He didn’t want to ruin the perfect moment, the delicious tension, he was paralyzed by it.

Rozanov sank down to his knees. 

“Oh fuck,” the words whooshed out of Shane’s mouth on an exhale.

Rozanov nosed at the prominent bulge in front of his face, making Shane shudder.

“Here?”

He looked up at Shane, clearly waiting for a response. Not letting Shane be passive, no matter how frozen he was.

“Y-yes.” Shane whispered, gazing down into Rozanov’s blazing eyes. 

Rozanov pulled Shane’s sweats and boxer briefs down slowly. But instead of taking Shane’s rigid cock into his mouth, he licked up the crease where Shane’s leg met his hip, then the other side.

Shane whimpered. His cock was starting to leak already, and he saw Rozanov smirk when he noticed it.

“Here.”

It wasn’t a question this time. It was a declaration of intention that Rozanov uttered before licking a long slow swipe up from Shane’s balls to the red tip of his cock, ending with a lap at the precum waiting there.

“Fuck, Rozanov, I need… fuck.” Shane had snapped out of the trance he’d been in, suddenly urgently needing more. More, right now.

“More licking?” Rozanov asked innocently.

“I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

Shane was rarely this direct, but he had been holding in so much tension the whole night, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Thankfully, Rozanov jumped to his feet and turned to march to his bedroom, Shane right on his tail, both of them ripping off their clothes along the way. 

Rozanov gestured to the bed and simply said, “All fours.”

Shane didn’t need more direction than that. He faced the headboard, feeling open and exposed, unable to see what Rozanov was doing. He expected to hear him opening a lube bottle and a condom wrapper, but he just felt Rozanov getting onto the bed behind him. Rozanov palmed his ass, massaging the flesh there and humming appreciatively. He pulled Shane’s cheeks apart, and oh my god, Shane knew what was coming next and almost stopped breathing. 

With his tongue wide and flat, Rozanov licked from the base of Shane’s balls, achingly slowly up past his hole to the cleft of his ass. 

“Oh fuck, oh my god, so good.” The last word was a guttural moan. Shane had never felt anything like this before; it was otherworldly. He felt like he was going to float off the bed or melt into a puddle or burst like a bubble or something. 

Rozanov gave him a few more slow, wide licks, savoring Shane’s ass like it was an ice cream cone on a hot day. Shane needed more more more, and he whined when he finally got it. Rozanov started swirling his tongue around Shane’s rim, alternating between circling his tongue and deep wet kisses, like he was making out with Shane’s hole. 

Shane’s arms couldn’t hold him up any longer, and he dropped to his elbows, head bowed between his shoulders as he babbled out moans and yeses and pleases and mores. He could feel Rozanov smiling against him, letting out low chuckles between swipes of his lips and tongue. Then, Shane finally heard the crack of the lube bottle as Rozanov pulled back. Shane whined again, and Rozanov laughed.

“Was it worth it, Hollander? Having to wait? Or would you have preferred a little lick on the ice to this?” 

“Fuck you,” was all Shane could manage.

“No, Hollander, I’m going to fuck you.” 

On the last word, he slid two lubed fingers into Shane, who was already so loose and wet from the ministrations of his tongue. He worked them in and out, spreading Shane enough to take a third finger, then a fucking fourth.

When Shane’s breathing was getting so short he thought he might come just from being fingered, he heard the condom wrapper tear, and Rozanov pushed the thick head of his cock to Shane’s opening and slid past the tight ring of muscle there. 

“Fuck Hollander, tell me. Was it worth the wait?” Rozanov was short of breath, but still managed that arrogant tone Shane hated to love.

“Yes.” Shane’s voice was gruff and breathy with need. “Yes, damn it, it was worth it.”

“Good.” Rozanov growled and started thrusting hard into Shane, giving him what he’d been craving for hours — no, weeks — however long it had been since they last saw each other. 

The only sound in the room was the slapping of their thighs as Rozanov pounded into him, his heavy breathing, and Shane’s increasingly desperate whimpers and moans. Rozanov leaned down over Shane’s body, snaking his arms across Shane’s chest and up under his shoulders to pull him back even harder. Shane cried out, the intensity just shy of too much and he fucking loved it.

This is what Shane was desperate for, the moment when he could let everything go and surrender to pleasure. When Rozanov was in control, pushing Shane to his limit in the best way, the embarrassment and fear and confusion he felt about their entire situation faded away. He would stew on it later, but at this moment he couldn’t care that Rozanov had read him so well, knew exactly what to do to get under his skin during the game, all so he could take Shane apart like this right now. 

Shane was getting close, but he wanted Rozanov to be the one to take him over the edge. 

“Touch me…” Shane breathed.

“Where, Hollander?” 

“Fuck, you know.”

“Tell me.” Rozanov growled.

Shane choked out a whine, “Stroke my cock… please...”

Rozanov finally finally reached his hand around Shane’s hip to take his cock and start stroking it hard and fast, continuing the relentless rhythm of his hips. The pressure was so much, so good, and then Rozanov pushed him over the edge — he leaned forward again and licked up a line of sweat that was dripping down Shane’s spine. Shane felt and heard Rozanov moan at the contact, and that was enough. He came undone, pleasure coursing through his body from the spot where they were connected, and felt Rozanov still above him, cock pulsing with his own release.

Rozanov flopped to his side, pulling Shane down, still inside him, and spooning him. They stayed there, quietly catching their breath for a few minutes as Rozanov’s cock softened. He slowly pulled it out and got up to deal with the condom. 

This is the part Shane hated — when reality set back in. Reality meant, anxiety, fear, uncertainty, and a nagging feeling of wishing they didn’t have to say goodbye yet. He would never admit it, but he kind of wanted Rozanov to come back to bed, curl up behind him again, and hold him there for a while. He longed for the comfortable, cozy post-sex haze that he imagined real couples got to experience. All he got was a knot in his stomach and a sense that he should run away.

They passed each other as Shane walked into the bathroom and Rozanov moved to change his sheets, then they silently pulled clothes on and Shane made his way toward the front door. 

“I should get going… early flight tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Rozanov nodded. 

“Um, sorry for high-sticking you tonight. Probably should have been a penalty.” 

Rozanov shrugged with a small smirk, “No problem, we won anyway.”

“Oh fuck off.” Shane sighed. “Well…”

Rozanov followed him to the door, but pulled his arm to turn him around before Shane reached for the knob. He moved his hand up to Shane’s face, and kissed him. Not a goodbye peck, but a deep, intense, almost tender kiss that left Shane breathless. Rozanov punctuated the kiss with one more lick on the tip of Shane’s nose, which made him laugh in surprise.

“Are you done licking people now?” 

“Maybe. You will have to wait and see.”

Shane rolled his eyes and said, “Goodbye Rozanov.”

The sound of “Goodbye Hollander” followed him out the door.