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  1. "What is it like in Hell?" There are things you prepare yourself for your child to someday ask but there are infinitely more things that you can never prepare yourself for. This is the latter. or Sofiya Rozanova-Hollander is the best thing that has ever happened to her parents, Cup wins included. This is how they manage when an incident at school brings up thoughts and feelings they might not be prepared for.

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  2. Shane and Ilya's season is over and they're at the cottage ahead of Shane's birthday, living their best married life

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  3. “Are you hurt?” Ilya presses in the long silence. “Is bad?”

    Another indistinct sound, maybe movement, comes over the speaker before Shane talks again. “A little. Maybe. I don't know. I…” he trails off as a background noise draws his attention. “Shit. Shit, Ilya, I have to-”

    The call disconnects before Shane can explain what he has to do. Ilya lowers the phone, staring at the blinking four letters above the painfully short call duration, and swipes the redial button without a second thought.

    -

    Shane calls Ilya for help.

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  4. Jitterbug by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • E
    • ✓

    2025-12-30

    Footsteps come running over, Shane grasping at Ilya’s face, his shoulders, worry in his eyes as he looks him up and down as if making sure he’s okay. “What is it? What happened?” “There’s a fucking creature on your mirror, Hollander,” Ilya tells him, gesturing far wider than he needs to. “This big. Is enormous.” “It can’t be that big,” he mutters, then he opens the door, and starts laughing. “Oh my god.” “Close the door, Shane, we can’t let it out!” “What?” Shane opens the door even wider, the creature now fully visible in the light. It’s just as terrifying from far away, the eye spots making Ilya feel like it’s staring at him. It sees into his soul—it’s going to come for Ilya in the night and crawl all over him. Disgusting. “It’s just a moth, Ilya.” A bug has entered the cottage. Shane is totally cool about it. Ilya is not. Summer is peaceful, quiet. At least, this one is. Ilya’s never had a particularly quiet summer before—always home in Russia tending to his toxic family, taking care of his father, drinking away the time. Here, at the cottage, with Shane, he’s finally content with his life, and how impossibly boring it’s become. Moments like this, where he and Shane are in bed together, naked and sex drunk, make him realize all his suffering was worth it. Well, maybe not entirely worth it, but it didn’t amount to nothing. He’s not trapped in Moscow mourning his awful father or constantly fighting his brother, he’s home, safe, with a boyfriend he loves and a life planned together he thinks will be all too worth living. Now he’s kissing Shane, the Metros’ captain straddling his hips as they kiss slowly, lazily, almost casually, like they can take their time. They have all summer, after all, maybe they can take their time. Shane tastes like warmth and lake water, and he knows they showered after their latest swim, but it still lingers on his tongue. Tilting his head back, he allows Shane to drag his kisses onto his neck, tugging the skin between his teeth as he sucks a bruise there. Since no one will be seeing him in the coming weeks, Ilya figures one little hickey is harmless. Well… maybe there are several between the two of them. A soft moan parts his lips, his lover’s name on his tongue as he buries his face in Shane’s hair. It’s a little longer now toward the middle-end of summer, but it’s still soft and smells of Shane so Ilya loves it. He especially loves it when he tugs on those dark locks, earning a soft little whimper from his boyfriend. His boyfriend. It still feels surreal to think that after all this time, after all the pining and heartache and hoping beyond hope that this is real, that Shane loves him, too. Sometimes, Ilya thinks he might be the luckiest man in the world… if only their circumstances weren’t so unlucky. If only they could actually, properly, publicly be together, but they can’t. It’ll be years before Ilya can kiss him in the daylight, but that’s a problem for future Shane and Ilya. Present day Ilya is currently enjoying a hickey, and plans to return the favor momentarily. As Shane kisses his handiwork, Ilya flips them over, attacking his boyfriend with a series of kisses that leave him laughing breathlessly. The sound makes him feel euphoric—it also makes him hard. He feels like he could go another round, though they’ve already had sex twice that evening, but from the whimpers coming from Shane and the wetness he feels against his belly, Ilya doesn’t think he’d mind. “Already hard for me, Hollander?” “Fuck you,” Shane grumbles, but he doesn’t protest as one of Ilya’s hands reaches between them, gently stroking his cock. “Oh, fuck.” Ilya grins against his boyfriend’s lips as he swipes a bead of precome over Shane’s tip, using it to stroke him in earnest, both of them panting slightly. Shane’s cock is soft to the touch, even though he’s painfully hard. The good thing about Shane coming so quickly, is he always comes back just as fast. Stroking him a little bit faster, Ilya plants kisses along the edge of Shane’s jaw, breathing in the scent of him as his rival begins to pant a little harder, a soft moan leaving him a moment later. “Oh fuck, Ilya,” he whimpers, head arching back into the pillow. “Fuck…” He spits into his hand, then resumes stroking him, going at a swift pace as Shane becomes a mess beneath him. There’s still come on his belly from earlier, and already, Ilya can tell there will be more soon. “You like that?” he asks, then he kisses Shane before he can answer, the response cut off as a moan into his mouth. Clearly, Shane does like it. He likes it so much his hips buck into the touch, his body leaning into Ilya’s, like he craves him. Ilya runs his thumb over Shane’s slit, earning himself another drawn out moan. “Oh god, Ilya,” he breathes. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come.” “Come for me, Shane,” Ilya tells him, kissing his jaw again as he strokes him a little faster. “Come for me.” And he does. Shane comes apart with a sharp cry, oversensitive and overstimulated, and he spills all over Ilya’s hand, over his own stomach, onto Ilya’s chest. He kisses him after, rolling on top of Ilya so that he can kiss him deeply, hands wound tight in his hair as he shivers through the aftermath. “I love you,” Shane whispers, and it’s the fifth time he’s said it today alone, almost like he can’t get enough. “I love you, too.” Ilya moans as Shane kisses him again, the two of them grinning as they rest their foreheads together. “I should clean you off.” “What a gentleman.” Smacking him lightly on the chest, Ilya pushes Shane off of him, making his way into the bathroom as the other man wolf whistles behind him. Eyes rolling, Ilya flicks on the bathroom light, ready to grab a wash cloth for Shane, but he immediately screams instead when he sees what’s sitting on the mirror. Right in front of him on the reflective glass, is the biggest bug he’s ever seen. Its wingspan is enormous, easily seven or eight centimeters, brown and black coloring the edges of said wings, with two little black and white eyespots on the corners. Ilya runs back out of the bathroom as soon as he sees it, the towel forgotten in the name of running from the nasty ass bug that’s made Shane’s bathroom its temporary home. Ilya has seen bugs before, seen cockroaches in Moscow and Boston, seen spiders and butterflies and beetles, but none of them have been this fucking big. This is easily, by far, the

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