1501 – 1520 of 2,179 Works in Explicit
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Shane picks up a hobby one off-season, he claims it isn't a thing, but it slowly turns into one. Ilya lets him navigate how it makes him feel on his own, but he's always there, steady and warm. Post The Long Game, spoilers for Ilya/Shane's relationship if you care about that. That's the only spoiler.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,227
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77098881
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Sometimes they’re curled up on the bed together afterwards and Shane runs his hands up and down Ilya’s body, rhythmic and smooth, touching just to touch. Ilya is stunning in the literal sense of the word: Shane is paralyzed by him, struck dumb. Desire may never be a problem here, but understanding is: Ilya feels distant and incomprehensible to Shane. — A cross-section of Shane Hollander’s sex life.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 14,058
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77101141
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hold me without hurting me (you'll be the first who ever did) by mightyd0lphin
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-04
Jane (21:23): Come over? Ilya stared at the message. Rage swirled in his stomach - that Shane would run out on him like that, spend the next two months shoving his fucking girlfriend in Ilya’s face, and then text him like none of that had happened. Like none of it mattered. Mixed in with the anger, though, and threatening to overwhelm it, was the hot burn of shame. Because Ilya was already texting back okay and putting on his shoes. Because he was fucking pathetic, and couldn’t resist. ~ instead of going to the club during episode 4, shane goes back to his apartment. then he texts ilya.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,862
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77079381
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Ilya and Shane play together in the All Stars Game - then they have sex. AKA I understand why Jacob didn't want sex in Episode 5 but I did, so it's here. Yay! Takes place after the game but before all of the confessions. Don't worry too much about the logistics. Ilya has imagined this, of course. It’s something he won’t ever admit to Shane, but he’s thought of it over and over again. The two of them, playing together. What it would be like, how it might work. He knows what they’re like when they fuck - a wordless knowledge of each other that requires very little in the way of conversation, though neither of them are ever inclined to be quiet. Hockey is different to fucking, but not by much. Ilya knows how Shane plays, down to the skates he wears and how tight he keeps his helmet. But there’s no knowing until they’re on the ice together - and from the moment the puck drops it’s euphoric, all of it. The rest of the team might as well not be there for all that Ilya gives a shit. His attention is on Shane, on getting the puck to his stick, on taking it back when Shane needs it, on getting them to the goal again and again and again. The score is ridiculous, even for a game that is more fun than it is anything else. Ilya spreads his affection across the team, aware of how it would look if he kept coming back to Shane, but he knows how the headlines will look, what all the hockey podcasts will be talking about. The two of them, Hollander and Rozanov and the electricity between them on the ice. No team could ever afford to have them both, and Ilya knows it would be a bad idea, but it’s worth fantasising about, isn’t it? It’s in that post game haze that Ilya is more rash than he has any right to be and books a hotel. One a little further out, but with a big bed and good room service. He texts the name and the room number to Shane without any other details, and watches his eyebrows raise across the massive dinner table where their team has gathered for a post-game celebration. He aches with anticipation, the thrill of the game still sitting under his skin, and he’s one of the first to leave, much to the apparent surprise of the players who don’t know him, and the knowing grins of those who do. “Fuck, Rozy, you got a girl lined up already?” “No fucking way man, we’ve been here less than two days!” “Nah, that motherfucker has one in every city I swear -” Ilya doesn’t answer any of it, just grins, shows the table his favourite finger, and makes his way out. He doesn’t look at Shane, doesn’t try to see if he’s following. He will, of course he will. He always does. So Ilya gets a taxi and checks in to the hotel, makes his way up to the room. It’s a nice room, good view - Ilya doesn’t give a shit about any of that. He pulls off his jacket, slinging it onto the chair that reminds Ilya of another night and another fuck in a much fancier hotel room, and he waits. It’s less than half an hour before the knock comes, and Ilya pulls the door open, meaning to pull Shane in after him. But Shane, it seems, is just as eager. The door’s barely closed before they’re on each other, kissing with a level of desperation that they haven’t in a long time. Ilya manages to get his hand up to protect Shane’s head as they hit the wall, and that gives him the perfect leverage to twist his fingers into the dark strands, pull Shane’s face back a little. He already looks fucked out, his lips parted and his face flushed, those fucking freckles looking perfect on his cheeks. “Fuck, Shane, look at you,” there’s still a thrill that comes with using Shane’s first name, and if the way Shane shudders is any indication, he feels it too. “You felt on the ice, yes? Never played with someone that fucking good before, hm?” “Shut the fuck up,” Shane pushes forwards to kiss Ilya again, and then they’re fumbling to get at each other’s belts, kicking out of their clothes in a frenzied stumble towards the bed. Shane falls onto his back and Ilya crawls over him, feeling like a predator. He wants to devour Shane, wants to taste him and crawl inside his bones, wants to know what it feels like in there. For now, he pulls one of Shane’s legs up until it’s practically on Ilya’s shoulder and fists his cock, rough and demanding. Shane lets out a strangled noise, trying to fuck into Ilya’s fist and arch away all at once, and Ilya grins, animalistic. “Be good boy, Hollander, and maybe I fuck you,” they both know that’s where this is going, but that’s not the point. Shane forces his eyes open and Ilya is watching him, still working at his cock. He doesn’t keep it up long, not after Shane says, “Please, please want to come with you -” in this breathy voice that Ilya can’t say no to. He fumbles away for a moment, coming back with the lube that was in his pocket (“You had that with you during dinner?”) and starts in on prepping Shane. He’s always so vocal, like this, whimpering at the push and pull of Ilya’s fingers - one, then two, then a third because he’s feeling generous about it. By the time Ilya’s got a condom on and he’s rolling his hips to push in to Shane, he feels halfway out of his mind. It’s so much, so overwhelming, that for a long moment he just stays there, flush against Shane, holding him up off the bed. Then Shane looks at him, eyes wet and wanting, and Ilya loses all sense of self. The headboard makes contact with the wall and Ilya couldn’t give less of a fuck, driving into Shane like a man possessed, slapping Shane’s hand away from his own dick. No, he wants Shane to come just like this, on his cock, panting and needy with it. He wants to drink up those noises, the ah-ah-ah that comes rhythmically with Ilya’s thrusts. And he can feel it, in the bottom of his stomach, the desperate curl of it. Ilya wishes they were fucking raw, wishes he could feel all of Shane. For now, he settles with leaning over the bed. The pressure forces Shane to bend, and suddenly Ilya is impossibly deep. Shane all but screams Ilya’s name, head thrown back, and his cock jerks, coating his stomach, almost up to his chest. Ilya is mesmerised by the sight of it, and doesn’t last more than two thrusts before he’s shaking, coming as deep as he can, imagining for a moment that when he pulls out he’ll see the evidence of it leaking out of Shane’s hole. He doesn’t, of course. He pulls back, almost trembling, and there’s nothing but the slick of lube. Ilya ties off the condom, tosses it towards the trash. Means to go and get a washcloth, but – but it’s all there, painted over Shane’s body, and Ilya feels greedy. He leans over Shane’s body, ignoring his quiet, fucked out little, “Ilya -” as he drags his tongue up Shane’s stomach, tasting him there.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,542
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77036521
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Ilya used to not miss anything when he returned to Moscow during the off-season. He was standing in a convenience store, some July day in 2015, flipping through the newsstand, when it hit him that he didn’t particularly care about anything going on there. He was counting down the days before he could get on his flight back to Boston, as if there was anything there to greet him on his return. Maybe it wasn’t Boston he was missing. The realization is not welcome. “Do you think you will stay in Boston?” Shane asks, stroking Ilya’s upper arm. His touch is soft. Ilya wants it endlessly.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 18,701
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77093496
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Since Shane’s Calvin Klein campaign dropped, it somehow escaped the hockey bubble entirely and spilled into the general public. There are countless TikToks now—not even from hockey fans, just regular people—posting about his husband in tight white briefs that leave very little to the imagination. Every sports show seems obligated to mention Shane Hollander’s Calvin Klein campaign. It’s inescapable in a way neither of them had expected. At first, Ilya thought it was fun. He was glad the world finally saw his husband as the sexy, talented man he’d always known him to be. He liked interacting with fan posts and edits, even sending them to Shane just to watch the way his face would immediately redden. But now, the public reaction is a little… much. or; Shane’s Calvin Klein campaign goes viral, not only in the hockey sphere, but all over the internet. Ilya tries (and fails) to not show his jealousy.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,018
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76684136
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last name (first name) by londonfoglatte (nimbus2003)
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-04
part 1: five times they're forced to be Hollander and Rozanov -- and one time they get to be Shane and Ilya. OR it took thirteen years to get to this table. to earn the right to be Shane and Ilya. it was worth every damned second. part 2: five times they choose to be Hollander and Rozanov -- and one time they choose to be Shane and Ilya. OR after years of hiding, it's a joy to wake up with a choice.
- Part 4 of hollanov 5+1
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,893
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #76250206
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“Wow,” Ilya snickers. “Not even Golden Boy Hollander is safe from the pussy curse, huh?” “Do not call it that.” Ilya crosses his arms and looks at Shane like he’s being stupid. It’s a frustratingly familiar look. “It is a curse that gives a pussy. Pussy curse. It’s not that bad of curse, actually.” Or; Someone commissions a witch to curse Shane with a vagina. It’s a flagrant violation of MLH rules, but Ilya’s always been good at making lemonade out of lemons.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,790
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77073321
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Every Boston Raider knows that although their captain has a girl in every port, he’s got a soft spot for the one in Montreal. Dr. Shane Hollander knows it’s better to have a semi-regular source of casual sex than try to make a relationship work during residency. Ilya Rozanov knows that the doctor he’s fucking in Montreal is unaware that he plays hockey, and in fact probably thinks he’s Bratva. A week before training camp begins, one of the front office people—a generally mild- mannered older woman who prefers to be called Miss Sheila—calls Ilya in for a meeting with the coaching staff that turns out to be an ambush. While they can’t technically force him to house a rookie, which has allowed him to put it off for years with increasingly stupid excuses, time appears to have finally run out. “You can’t pick and choose which parts of the captaincy you want to take on,” LeClaire says. “You have the C, so fucking act like it.” “No one else speaks Russian,” Miss Sheila adds, like that’s Ilya’s fault and not a decision that’s been actively made by management for the last eight years. You can’t throw a fucking rock in Madison Square Garden without hitting five Slavs. “I live in an apartment,” Ilya says. “No room for rookie.” “You live in a four-bedroom condo,” Miss Sheila says. “Three bathrooms and in-unit laundry. I looked it up on Zillow.” “My condo is on Zillow?” Ilya says. Miss Sheila ignores this egregious violation of Ilya’s privacy to continue, “Do you have any roommates sleeping in one of those three other bedrooms?” “Roommates, no. Guests, yes.” Ilya tries to leer at her, but Miss Sheila is made of stern stuff. “You can still have guests,” she says. “No one expects you to be a monk, Mr. Rozanov. We all know better. But that poor child doesn’t know a lick of English.” Ilya’s seen tape of the new kid—straight out of a fucking Siberian mining town, about twelve feet tall, with chin scruff he probably had to start shaving at age seven—and his nasty slapshot hadn’t exactly filled Ilya’s heart with pity. “I think about it?” he tries. Miss Sheila slides a stapled stack of paper across her desk. “Think while you’re signing these,” she says. “Initial in the yellow boxes.” As he’s leaving Miss Sheila’s office, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his athletic shorts. One vibration, so it’s WhatsApp. Obviously Ilya is a cool fucking customer who would never do anything as stupid as fumble for his phone just because of a fucking WhatsApp notification, but his phone almost slips through his fingers as he quickly digs it out. Jane: I’m going to be in Boston next month. Oct 4-9. Meet up? Shane’s in Boston every October. The North American Society of Something Extremely Boring’s Annual Meeting. Fucking CME, Shane had complained to Ilya once, a little awkwardly. He never seemed to realize that when he lied (which embarrassed him, because he was a good Canadian boy who had been raised right) the subsequent flush would make his freckles stand out. So whatever this Boston conference is, it has nothing to do with CME, whatever the fuck that is. But it is a excuse for Shane to fly to Boston every October and Ilya’s hardly going to give that gift horse a fucking dental exam. After a careful, deliberate pause–he counts a hundred seconds–Ilya sends back a thumbs up emoji. ~ Three years before, on a chilly November evening, Ilya had been irritably sucking down on the cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger in front of a pair of automatic doors that had claimed to lead to the MUHC emergency department. He’d barely heard the hiss of the doors sliding open behind him, he’d been so annoyed. “Here is a thought,” he had said to Marleau, darkly. “The next time that cocksucker thinks he can fuck up one of my guys, I send the pieces of him back home to his mother in a tiny box.” “Probably it’d be a big box,” Marleau had replied. “Like. Realistically.” “Fine,” Ilya had said, punctuating his statement with a deep drag on his cigarette. “Next time, I send him home to his mother in a medium-sized box. Overnight shipping.” “Uh,” someone had said, “you’re not supposed to be smoking here.” When Ilya had twisted to shoot an annoyed glare over his shoulder, a man in bright green scrubs had been standing behind him. He was wearing a grey knitted sweater that was unzipped and laying open across his broad chest and a lanyard with plastic-encased cards looped around his muscled neck. His pretty face looked annoyed the way a very fluffy kitten might look annoyed after being scruffed. Without quite meaning to, Ilya had let his eyes trace the wing of his dark hair, long enough to be pushed back from his forehead and behind his ears. “Da?” Ilya had said, exaggerating his accent. The guy’s mouth had flattened and he’d jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the automatic doors, which were plastered with a number of large stickers that explained in both English and French that neither loitering nor smoking ought to be occurring in their vicinity. “No English,” Ilya had said. The guy had rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he’d said. “Who cares if you compromise the care of the critically ill patients inside this building, eh?” This had gotten to Marleau, predictably; he’d elbowed Ilya in the side and whispered, “Maybe—?” Ilya had sucked pointedly on his cigarette and ignored Marleau. He had felt something zip up his spine, not dissimilar to the sensation he got in the milliseconds before a face off, when he knew that because he was faster and smarter and meaner he was going to win. He had casually strolled towards the disgruntled Canadian in his bright green scrubs, exaggerating his steps. He’d wanted the man to notice Ilya’s big frame in its expensive suit, the handmade leather dress shoes that were never scuffed because Ilya only ever wore them on game days, the diamond-encrusted tie pin that he’d bought himself to celebrate when he’d won the Calder.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 12,466
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 4 versions
- AO3:
- #77057296
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apply pads (shock now!) by blongblong
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-04
When Paramedic Shane Hollander and EMT Hayden Pike start working nights, they expect to spend their shifts getting fucked over by Response Paramedic—and notorious asshole—Ilya Rozanov.
Shane does end up getting fucked, just not in the way he was expecting.
(shane just wants to do his job and ride the ambulance. ilya thinks shane should be riding him, instead.)
- Part 1 of return of spontaneous circulation
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 34,467
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 3 versions
- AO3:
- #77037646
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Between Duty & Desire by house_of_lantis
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-03
As a rising sports journalist with a stubborn sense of ethics, Shane Hollander never meant to fall for Ilya Rozanov, the heir to a powerful Russian crime family trying to hold his territory together. What begins as heat and fascination spirals into a secret relationship filled with tenderness, danger, and impossible choices, as Shane’s investigation into organized crime leads straight to the man he loves. With deadlines looming and enemies closing in, with Ilya’s father demanding total obedience, and loyalties torn in two, Shane and Ilya are forced to decide what they’re willing to risk for a life that might never be safe but could finally be theirs.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 31,408
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76894016
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Butter soft in the moonlight by eatmyass
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2026-01-03
Ilya smirks. “What am I doing?” His thumb drags over Shane’s mouth more roughly this time, making his lips part in an unflattering way. There’s something about the way Ilya’s holding him, butter-soft leather digging into his skin. Something about the way Ilya looks in the dim lighting, dark clothes blending into the shadows. Maybe it’s Ilya, tall and imposing, standing in the dark with his gloved hands gripping Shane hard enough to hurt. “Hurting me,” Shane whispers. ——— Shane buys Ilya a pair of leather driving gloves, and then gets so worked up seeing him wear them that he spontaneously invents consensual noncon.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,281
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77007776
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Across the Stars by Strange_johnlock
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-03
Ilya adjusts the blanket around Luna, shifts his gaze away from her sweet face and towards the sky. It is full of stars, bright here, far away from the city. Hundreds and thousands of them, and the same person who has placed the freckles on Shane Hollander’s cheeks and nose must have sprinkled them onto the firmament. “Ah, husband withdrawal makes me a romantic, I think,” he whispers, and Luna makes a sound that must surely mean she agrees, but thinks he has gone mad. ___ Ilya deals with Shane being away on his first road trip. The Hollanders are there to help. And Shane, well, he is full of surprises.
- Part 3 of Moon, Sun and Stars
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,125
- Chapters:
- 2/2
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76964031
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Shane finds out he likes it when Ilya bites him. It’s possible he likes it a little too much.
- Part 1 of Bite Hard
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,562
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77011356
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Ilya’s cigarettes have always been easier than love...but Shane tastes too good to keep smoking. It isn't easy to quit smoking, Ilya knows that. He's tried, multiple times without success. Something Shane has quietly, stubbornly hated since their rookie year. An off-season at Shane’s cottage forces Ilya to confront the habit he’s clung to for comfort, the one that could keep him from fully being with the man he loves.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,186
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76968436
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JANE: We didn't even kiss "Fuck." Shane presses his forehead against the elevator wall, his eyes fluttering closed against the tears threatening to fall. His vision darkens at the edges and he can't quite catch his breath, his chest aching. He sent it. His finger fucking slipped and he sent it. The text sent.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 8,798
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76981836
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What do you get the man who self-proclaimedly has everything he could ever want and need? This is the dilemma Shane faces yet again, wondering what on earth he could possibly get Ilya for his birthday. The answer comes in the form of raiding Ilya’s closet and impulsive 3 AM purchases. or the hollanov birthday sex au no one asked for
- Part 2 of vignettes in time
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,111
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76853676
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Ilya's birthday present with Shane pregnant and on his knees - let's just say best birthday ever.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,757
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76993776
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Ilya blinks at him. Once, twice, three times. And then he bursts out laughing. “This- this is not funny, stop laughing at me, you asshole,” but Ilya’s reasonable response to Shane’s freak out had somewhat broken Shane out of his paranoia, and he finds himself smiling. “Sweetheart, sweetheart,” Ilya sits up in bed and leans down so he can take Shane’s face in his hands, shoulders still shaking from laughter. “You are crying because you want my cock so bad. I love you so much.”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,279
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76971866
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It was almost dawn by the time Shane and Ilya got home from the Centaurs' post-win party.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,058
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76971636