21 – 40 of 47 Works in Sex
- Sex ×
-
Shane and Ilya are different behind closed doors.
A multi POV fic that allows other characters to get a glimpse behind the wall.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 22,470
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #82053071
-
Scott took his sunglasses from the side pocket of his backpack and put them on. His phone vibrated. He pulled it out and there it was: a picture of Kip and Elena from across the street. Kip smiling, Elena pouting. Below it, the caption: "Please don't die crossing this sea of people."
Scott laughed to himself, put the phone away, and pushed the door open.
The screams of excitement crashed over Scott like a wave. Fans crowded the sides of the path, many with tears in their eyes, others with their arms reaching over the metal barricades, everyone wanting a piece of that night. Happy shouts celebrating the victory, hoarse voices declaring their love for the team, words of pride and admiration. Scott smiled slightly, giving a general wave as he walked, sharing looks of gratitude to both sides – until the smile froze on his face.
"THEY TURNED HOCKEY GAY?! SERIOUSLY?! FUCK YOU, HUNTER!"
The voice cut through the air like a blade. Scott swallowed hard, his eyes finding a compact group on the other side of the metal barricades. Not happy at all. Men, mostly, their expressions twisted with hate, being held back by the police officers doing security.
"HOPE YOU DIE, YOU FAGGOT!"
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 134,743
- Chapters:
- 14/14
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80835121
-
Ilya Rozanov is an incredibly skilled and famous hockey player, maybe the best in the league. He’s known for being captain of the team in Ottawa, for being constantly surrounded by adoring fans, and for being kind of an asshole. Shane Hollander is the founder and director of a charity hockey school in Montreal. He loves his job and takes it very seriously, which leaves little time for socializing or just about anything else. Ilya and Shane cross paths when Ilya’s manager insists on boosting his public image with a little charity work. The two don’t exactly click, yet they can’t stop thinking about each other. Mutual attraction turns into a hook up, and then another, and then suddenly a positive pregnancy test. Shane and Ilya have to figure out how to navigate this complicated situation, and in the process discover the feelings they have for each other are a lot deeper than they thought.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 22,764
- Chapters:
- 12/12
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80147946
-
Shane Hollander was perfect; the perfect son, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect friend. He had spent years refining perfection, making sure he was the picture of it. It was second nature after all these years; a suit that didn’t quite fit, but that he’d gotten used to.
Enter Ilya Rozanov.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 56,485
- Chapters:
- 7/7
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81052751
-
Troy struggled with his sexuality, especially since his crush of several years is Dallas fucking Kent, hockey's notorious homophobic prick. Troy believed that was just boys being boys, playful even. After all, he's fucking hot.
Canon-compliant Rape referenced related to Dallas Kent allegations, dubious consent because Troy attempts having sex with women but not because he wants to.
- Part 11 of Heated Rivalry Oneshots
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,413
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80959441
-
So Much Of You Is Left Behind by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-21
Loud beeps from his phone startled Ilya, and he slowed down, reaching for the device he’d put on the bar between his legs. Jane. He smiled to himself when he saw the notifications, and, checking Marlowe was absorbed in his own fitness, opened it quickly, smiling in anticipation of Shane's words.
The smile was wiped off his face almost instantly.
The blood drained from his face, and Ilya felt like the bottom had just fallen out of his world.
*****
Maybe he was naive, but Ilya always thought he had time. Time with Shane. Time to tell him what he truly meant to him.
That, somehow, one way or another, Shane would always be there.
But a text message late one night threatens to destroy the future that Ilya has spent the time carefully constructing in his mind.
Maybe Shane wasn't always going to be there. That Shane would be cruelly snatched away from him before he had a chance to be honest.
That he would be left behind. Alone.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 56,411
- Chapters:
- 13/13
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #79140611
-
don't be afraid (we'll make it out of this mess) by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-02-18
The thought of never kissing Shane again, of going the rest of their lives as strangers who once knew each other in the most intimate way - Ilya wants to throw up. Shane is right. So if he can be brave, Ilya can be honest.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,982
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79293236
-
Kip is hit with a wave of relief when he sees Scott at the front of the crowd, sweat-dried hair a mess from everyone rubbing his head. He’s out of his pads and jersey, in a black Under Armor shirt Kip has only ever seen in the laundry. The charge of seeing Scott like this, sizzling with energy and salty with sweat, surrounds Kip like a net and pulls him under.
He is not used to this feeling, the thrill that courses through him that this Scott—team captain, public figure—can be claimed as his. He wants to do so, but has no idea how to negotiate this new world and new arrangement. Scott scans the room and sees him, eyes bright.
---
Scott and Kip have only been back together, properly, for three months when Scott comes out. Now it's the summer after.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 15,300
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79323811
-
“I’m glad it’s us, at the top.” Ilya admitted, letting his legs spread a bit as he visibly relaxed. “All that noise, about me not being able to hear and your-”
He motioned vaguely, and Shane finished for him, “Chronic pain?”
“Yes, that.” he hummed, “Was all nonsense. You’re good at what you do.”
Shane smiles, then. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Not as good as me, obviously.” Ilya added, and Shane rolled his eyes. “Can’t be too nice to you, can I?”
“Guess not.”
Or,
Shane Hollander has a chronic pain condition and Ilya Rozanov is deaf. This inevitably means that they're going to be compared to one another, and this is only made worse when they're drafted to rival teams The Montreal Metros and The Boston Bears as first and second pick.
It was rare enough that mainstream sports received one disabled player but two? Drafted during the same season and always one-upping each other?
Well, it was unheard of.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 42,588
- Chapters:
- 5/5
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77191796
-
I hate the taste of my own medicine by Anonymous
Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
2026-02-10
Both Shane and Ilya are perfectly content to ignore the elephant in the room
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,343
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #79171021
-
The Consort of Crown and Blood by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-07
When a human head of state publicly insults the ancient Vampire King, the price of peace is a political union. Shane Hollander, high school teacher and assistant hockey coach, is one of the only humans in the world with a rare bloodline. He’s given an impossible choice: become a Tribute Consort to vampire Crown Prince Ilya, or watch the human race burn.
Their union is meant to be a symbolic gesture to prevent war. Shane tells himself he can survive the vampire court's deadly politics, the centuries-old intrigue, and the weight of being a living apology for his species' mistakes.
What he doesn't expect is the way Ilya looks at him when no one else is watching.
When a secret society abducts Shane to drain and auction his rare blood to the highest bidder, the carefully constructed facade shatters. The vampire Crown Prince the world fears isn't cold at all, he's been holding something far more dangerous in check. And what Ilya is willing to destroy to reclaim his Consort will reshape the balance of power between their worlds.
- Part 1 of Stories from the Kingdom of Rozanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 163,090
- Chapters:
- 15/15
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77160316
-
“Don’t go,” Ilya manages to choke out, burying his face under Shane’s chin and squeezing his eyes shut. He inhales sharply, pressing his nose deeper into Shane’s throat to breathe in his scent. Right now, it’s Ilya’s body soap, vanilla and spice, masked under salt and skin. He inhales it like it's his own personal supply of air, what he needs to extinguish the burning in his lungs. “Ilya,” Shane says, voice urgent, “you’re shaking, I—your breathing’s too fast—” He tries to pull back, needs to see Ilya’s face, needs to see what’s wrong, but Ilya just shakes his head and clings tighter. “Please don’t go, Shane,” Ilya whispers, pleading. I’m sorry, please don’t go, don’t go— OR: ilya and shane accidentally recreate the tuna-melt day, and ilya realizes just how much old wounds hurt.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,502
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #78753556
-
After their engagement, Ilya and Shane return to Russia under the cover of the Irina Foundation, knowing it may be the last time Ilya ever sets foot there. What waits for him is not closure, but grief, memory, and a past he learned to survive by becoming quiet and hard. It isn’t about going back to the life he escaped. It’s about one final goodbye—to the place that shaped him, and to the mother he never stopped missing. With Shane beside him—steady, patient, and fiercely careful—Ilya faces grief he’s spent years surviving, old fear that still lives in his bones, and the quiet truth he’s been avoiding: some doors don’t close cleanly… but you can still choose how to leave them. This is a story about grief, survival, and choosing a future where home is no longer a place, but a person.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 45,716
- Chapters:
- 12/12
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77223881
-
Shane is finally ready to come out on his own terms in an emotional Instagram post about his relationship with Ilya... The only problem is everyone thinks he was hacked. To be fair, Ilya writing: No is true, I'm gay for Hollander, did not help.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,575
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #77793006
-
Shane has finally convinced Hayden to invite the Bears (Ilya) to his annual NHL Christmas Party. Obviously, Shane can't really help himself when Rozanov finally shows up. What time do I need to be there? I’m getting there at 8. See you at 9, Hollander. Tonight, Shane–and Ilya, apparently–were attending Hayden’s annual NHL Christmas party. This tradition started a few years back, about two after the rivals’ rookie season. Shane didn’t dare to ask to invite Ilya until recently because it would be risky, and just plain stupid. Well, he would venture to say he didn’t invite Ilya, he just mentioned that Boston would be playing in Montreal and it’d be chivalrous to ask the team to join Hayden at his massive penthouse. However, it wasn’t easy to convince him. Shane recalls Hayden’s intense sigh, which was more of a loud, elongated groan, and a dramatic throwing back of his head. It made Shane wonder if the public would rather watch a Pike versus Rozanov rivalry. Anyway, Hayden begrudgingly agreed and Shane fought back a smile. As 8 o’clock approached, Shane stood in front of his bed with three outfits laid out: a suit, a cashmere sweater and jeans, and a button up and slacks. At first he landed on the suit, slipping into it with ease. When he saw himself in the mirror, though, he could basically hear Ilya’s snobby comments. So fancy, Hollander. He shyly blinked a few times to shoo those thoughts and went back into his bedroom. He opted then for the sweater since he figured it’d be too cold for a short sleeve. As he pulled the sweater over his head he took in a deep inhale, hoping it would look presentable, at least. He examined the fit in the mirror once again, this time a small smile twitching up his lips. Shane eyed himself, loving the way his watch sparkled beside the deep blue sleeve and how his pants fit perfectly. Ilya returned in his mind, this time saying looking good, Hollander. This comment wasn’t sarcastic, it sent shivers down Shane’s neck, all the way to his lower back. The time now was 8:15, so Shane began his drive to Hayden’s. This was a drive he’s done a million times, so why was he so nervous? To distract himself from the anxiety that began to bubble up in his stomach he turned up the radio. It was playing some trashy pop song, and it honestly didn’t help him very much. Parking a few blocks away, Shane took the two minute walk to fix his hair. As his fingers wandered through the strands, he wondered if Ilya was on his way. Though he saw the man a week ago, both on the rink and in his private suite, he was anxious to see him again. Of course, nothing was going to happen, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy just being in his presence. Yes, Ilya was usually an asshole, and, yes, Ilya loved being an asshole, but Shane knew that wasn’t all he was. Shane reached the front door and could immediately hear music blasting. It was honestly pretty similar to what the radio had been playing. He wished Hayden threw a more festive Christmas party–one with mistletoe and charcuterie boards and vintage music. Instead it felt more like a club. Which, of course, Shane still enjoyed, but he liked slow moments, too. When he stepped inside he was greeted by a very, very drunk Hayden: “Shane! Ugh, you missed it, I, um,” Hayden took a deep breath and tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “Yeah, man, you missed it,” was all he could conjure. Shane shook his head and exhaled a laugh, “Already had a lot to drink?” “No, no, just a few shots.” Shane tilted his head in doubt. “Maybe a few glasses of wine, too,” Hayden smirked, “you want some?” “Uh, no, you have ginger ale?” “God, man, it’s fucking Christmas! Have a drink!” “I’m okay.” Shane shook his head and looked past Hayden. He saw Scott Hunter, still as handsome as he remembered, JJ, and a few other players he recognized by name. No Rozanov. “So, uh, you have some?” “Yeah, man, whatever. It’s in the cooler over there,” Hayden slurred, unimpressed. Shane patted him on the shoulder as he passed by. Under a table covered with drinks, Shane found a few coolers and opened a few before finding one filled with sodas. He reached for the coldest ale there was and grabbed it, quickly pulling back the tab and popping it open. As he took his first sip, he felt something brush against his arm. His eyes followed the sensation and noticed Ilya standing beside him, analyzing the different bottles of vodka laid out on the table. Shane quickly looked forward and cleared his throat, attempting to keep his gaze ahead. In his peripheral, he could see Ilya grazing his index finger over the lids of various drinks, mumbling something under his breath. Finally, he landed on one that satisfied him and poured a hefty amount in his glass. After taking a swig, Ilya turned his body toward Shane and leaned against the table. Shane couldn’t help but admire him. Unlike Shane, Ilya was wearing a loose shirt with the top three buttons undone. His cross laid perfectly underneath his collarbones, and Shane could see his stupid tattoo peaking out. For bottoms, Ilya wore tight fitted black pants and a belt with a chic silver buckle. The way the denim followed the muscles of his thighs made Shane blush. Ilya’s hair was loose golden curls, and it fell on his forehead in a way that complimented him beautifully. Without meaning to, Shane was checking Ilya out. “Like what you see, Hollander?” Ilya said, low enough that only Shane could hear. He quickly shook his head, leading his gaze back to what was in front of him. “Shut up,” he mumbled, taking another sip. Ilya smirked, his mole raising slightly as lips curled up. He hummed in response, scanning Shane in a way that made him take a sharp breath. He felt his whole body heat up as the Russian undressed him with his eyes. Shane quickly sped away from the situation, fearing that it would be too obvious if he stayed. As he walked away, Ilya couldn’t help but stare.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,604
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77311206
-
Ilya realises that Shane doesn’t just respond to his needs during sex. He's taking orders – and getting off on it. They both are. Get on your knees. That had been the first time Ilya had tested Hollander's boundaries directly. He had noticed during their first couple interactions that Hollander seemed to like the guidance that Ilya gave him. Ilya relished in it; Hollander was the first person who seemed to actually listen to him and do what he was told to do. It was thrilling. But Ilya didn’t realise the depth of Hollander’s submissive streak right away. The first time he had invited him to drink more water, that day in the hotel gym, Hollander had done it immediately. Ilya had figured that Hollander had just had permission to take more than what he thought he was allowed to and didn’t think anything of it. When Hollander had admitted that being with Ilya was his first time being with a man, Ilya assumed that he was shy and nervous, his brown eyes docile and timid. Ilya was determined to make it as easy as possible for Hollander to explore – whatever this was. He remembered being nervous with Sasha, and how Sasha had coached him patiently in how to fuck men. Ilya had been so focused on being good in bed that he hadn’t had too much time to be truly terrified, which was great for him, but Ilya could tell that wasn’t Hollander’s motivator. And that first night in Hollander’s hotel room had left Ilya with questions. The way Hollander had immediately dropped to his knees once Ilya had pressed his thumb into his mouth was...something. Like he’d been given some sort of unspoken permission to do something Ilya would have never told him he couldn’t do, and once he got it, he came alive. Ilya had never experienced someone become so dazed before, so lost inside sex that the outside world didn’t even seem to exist anymore. His eyes...it was like Hollander wasn’t truly in his body. The way Hollander hadn’t asked for reassurance, for guidance, the way he needed to know if what he was doing was good but refused to ask Ilya outright was surprising, but Ilya could feel that he needed it. He'd praised him, of course – Ilya had never come so quick in his life, and he was sure Hollander would have known from that alone that he was good at sex, despite his inexperience. Or maybe in spite of it. But when he stared into those big, sad brown eyes, surrounded by the prettiest freckles he’d ever seen, Ilya could tell that Hollander was less worried about the sex being good, and more worried about Ilya feeling good. It was an important distinction to someone like Ilya, who spent most of his free time bringing people to orgasm because watching the exact moment they fell apart because of him was better than any drink or drug he’d ever taken. Knowing that he was responsible for someone losing control like that, crying out his name, was powerful. He felt powerful in those moments. Useful. And somehow, none of those moments felt anywhere near as heady as when he had made Hollander cry out for him, his strong hands buried in his hair, desperately trying to yank him off his cock as he came, unable to push Ilya off of him because his body was completely at Ilya’s mercy. Nothing had ever felt as good as watching Hollander’s eyes become faraway, filled with unshed tears, red rimmed and desperate as he stared up at Ilya, waiting to take whatever he would give him. Because Hollander didn’t need him. He wanted him. Ilya could feel the difference. He needed more. And he was certain Hollander needed more, too. Ilya tested the boundary again the next time they hooked up. He gently requested Hollander get on his knees, just to see what he would do, and Hollander dropped to the floor so fast Ilya couldn’t believe it. He'd half expected Hollander to tell him to go fuck himself, or to get on his knees instead. But Hollander had hit the ground so hard Ilya had flinched at the sound of his knees hitting the floor, barely able to breathe as Hollander desperately pulled his sweatpants down and suckled at his cock so fast Ilya nearly came right then and there. So, he’d been curious. More than curious. Fixated. Obsessed. Unable to stop thinking about what Hollander would let him do to him. He found himself wishing the women he would meet in every city would somehow reveal themselves to have the same quirks so Ilya could indulge himself with them, and stop thinking about fucking Hollander. But he couldn’t. Ilya couldn’t stop thinking about Hollander, and god knows he’d tried not to think about him. Tried not to think about when he’d ordered Hollander onto his stomach, how he had flipped over immediately for him, despite being nervous. He'd tried not to think about how when Ilya had asked him if he’dbeen fucked before, Hollander had tensed, but when he pressed a finger against his hole, he’d relaxed completely under his touch. How when Ilya had tried to find out if Hollander was a virgin, he had offered up that he fucked himself with a dildo. How when Ilya had pressed two fingers inside him that night, Hollander had scoffed and said he could take more than that, but refused to tell Ilya how big his dildo was. How when Ilya fucked him, Hollander’s eyes would become wetter and more intense, how all he could do was stare at Ilya through heavy breaths and frantically touch every part of him, moaning his name. The more Ilya tried not to think about Hollander, the more he became consumed by him. Ilya needed to know what else he could instruct Hollander to do. Within reason, of course. Ilya just wanted to give Hollander everything he didn’t know he needed.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,471
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77253946
-
5 times Ilya was rough with Shane, and 1 time he was so gentle, Shane didn’t know what to do with it.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,775
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #76982911
-
It permeated his brain. The intoxicating smell of simple bar soap, laundry detergent, a hint of sweat, and Ilya. It was like a soft blanket surrounding his thoughts, cushioning them, slowing them down. He’d been so busy, so stressed, by both his life and his secrets. Everything was so complicated, so confusing, so anxiety-inducing, that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d truly been able to take a full inhale. So, as he knelt there, breathing, pressing into the man above him, Shane felt himself relax bit by bit, his anxieties and ruminating worries finally slipping away. -- Or, Shane learns that cockwarming quiets his brain.
- Part 1 of Hollanov
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,023
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76915701
-
New Year’s eve as symbol for feelings, or, 5 imperfect New Year’s and 1 perfect one.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,047
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76259861
-
Shane never thought of himself as a jealous person. But Ilya Rozanov made him feel like he was losing his mind. Svetlana Vetrova. That was the name of the girl Ilya Rozanov was pictured with. The beautiful, statuesque, model like, stunning woman with the perfect skin and amazing hair and deep hazel eyes that Rozanov was hanging off of. Shane frowned at the television, watching the entertainment program break down the photos of Rozanov leaving a club in Boston, hand in hand with one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, a cigarette tucked behind his ear, his shirt unbuttoned too much to be decent, the muscles of his forearms so defined Shane had to resist reaching out to touch the screen. “Vetrova’s father is one of the most legendary goalies in Russian history, so it seems like Rozanov is in the company of hockey royalty,” the blonde woman on the television said. “They seem like very good friends,” the man standing next to her said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “They certainly look good together.” They do, Shane thought as the photo changed to one of them climbing into the backseat of a town car, Rozanov’s hand practically on Svetlana’s ass. He had no right to feel anything about this. Rozanov was just some guy he’d had sex with a few times. Shane was a free agent, too. He could go out and sleep with anyone else whenever he wanted, and Rozanov wouldn’t care. Shane had no claim to Rozanov. They’d had sex a few times, but it didn’t mean anything. It was convenient and Rozanov was hot and incredible at fucking him, but it wasn't anything more than that. At least, that was what he had tried to remind himself. This was nothing. He watched the television as it flicked to a photo of Rozanov sucking on a cigarette. Shane had begun to miss the taste of cigarettes. >>> He moaned into the pillow, his eyes screwed shut as Rozanov fucked him, his arm pressing down on his shoulders. Shane reached behind him, desperately trying to grab onto something to try and ground him as his body tensed, grateful when Rozanov grabbed his hand and bore down over him, his hips pinning him to the bed. Shane bit his lip as Rozanov moaned loudly into the back of his neck, his hips moving faster and harder – Shane cried out as he came, squeezing Rozanov’s hand as he fucked him, not slowing down as Rozanov chased his own orgasm. Shane loved being used like this; he loved when he was spent and exhausted and Rozanov kept fucking him, moaning his name, desperate to come too. Rozanov cried out Shane’s name as he came, his hips slowing down to a grind as he slid his hand into Shane’s hair, gripping him tightly as he finally stopped moving, slumping over him. Shane took a deep breath, doing his best to breathe normally again underneath Rozanov’s weight. He grimaced when he realised his cock was trapped between the sheets and his stomach, his come smeared everywhere. Rozanov seemed to realise Shane was trying to move, pulling out slowly and rolling off of him. “Fuck,” Shane mumbled, rolling onto his back and looking down at himself. Rozanov loved when he came untouched, making it his mission to make Shane come that way every single time. Rozanov turned towards him, slapping his hand over his chest. Shane flinched as Rozanov leaned over him and licked the come off of his stomach, laughing as he moved up to kiss him. Shane smiled as Rozanov’s hand rested over his neck, his tongue moving against his as he pressed closer to Shane. Shane pushed him gently off of him, sitting up and blinking. “We need to shower,” he said. Rozanov sighed, watching as Shane stood and crossed to the bathroom, doing his best not to make a face as the ache in his ass. “You are okay?” Rozanov asked. “Yes,” Shane answered honestly. He was always okay; he loved this feeling, like his whole body had been pushed beyond his limits and he could barely hold himself up. He flicked the shower on, flinching at the sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was a sweaty mess, his skin was flushed red, sweat had beaded down his chest, and come was drying in the hair beneath his bellybutton. Shane didn’t look anything like Svetlana, or the many women Rozanov was photographed with. Shane wasn’t tall and thin and beautiful. He was average height, broad shouldered and plain. He hated his flat hair and his ugly freckles and his boring brown eyes. Shane was so busy frowning at himself that he didn’t see Rozanov walk into the bathroom. He startled when Rozanov gripped his waist, kissing his neck snapping him out of his reverie. Shane watched in the mirror as Rozanov reached for his hand and pulled him towards the shower; for a brief moment, he thought about the photo he had seen of Rozanov with Svetlana. >>> “Not bad, Hollander,” Hayden said, clapping him on the back. “Not bad?” Shane asked. “A hat trick is better than not bad.” A hat trick against Boston, no less. Scoring against Rozanov was no easy feat. He shucked off his jersey, listening as JJ led the team in celebrations, loudly singing their team song.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,676
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76644891
- ← Previous
- 1
- 2
- 3
- Next →