Summary:

It makes sense that he's been ensnared by the perfection of the Hollander-Rozanov's. They're a dream both on and off the ice; of course, it's completely, unfortunately, understandable that he's always sort of losing his mind around them, and having brief moments of insanity where instead of listening to them talk, he's besieged by imagining them ruining his life.

It's just one of those things he slowly has to work through; figuring out how to manage the seething heat of arousal, the glittering hunger that sits in his chest, the sly looks he would, and probably will still, steal, all under the banner of drawing inspiration, if anyone were to ask.

Which, thank god, no one has.

OR: Luca knows that this secret of his is going to be his downfall. One day he's going to call Ilya Rozanov Daddy, and he's never going to be the same.