Summary:

"Oh, and Hollander?" Shane looks up, a hand gently cradling his jaw. “The next time your cock gets hard, and you are jerking yourself off in hotel room, I want you to remember this," a kiss is pressed to Shane's lips, "and fucking wait for me." Astonished, Shane huffs a quiet laugh. For years, their hookups consisted of weeks, sometimes months of foreplay, in the form of on-ice chirps, stolen glances, and many, many text messages. It always ended the same way too, with reciprocated orgasms in hotel rooms and the whisper of a promised, ‘see you next time’. Ilya, who seems content with Shane’s lack of answer, gives him one last kiss, and leaves for his own hotel with a fervent, "see you in two weeks, Hollander." This was not a promise. This felt like an order. Shane needs a shower