1 – 1 of 1 Work in Patrick Marleau
- Patrick Marleau ×
-
Ilya played like shit, he was willing to admit that. He couldn’t get his head out of Hollander’s ass, and even his hits on him were half hearted. Shane scored on him twice, and he had spent the game avoiding the one person he wanted to talk to most. He had written out three texts before the game, and two after, all five were unsent. It felt like groveling to admit there was something missing to be in Montreal and not with Shane. But he had Rose Landry now. *** A new take on the club scene*** Red lights, strobes, the smell of sweat in the air. Bodies on bodies and the smell of alcohol in the air. The perfect place to get his mind off of one Shane Hollander. He hadn’t been able to look at him during the game, too scared of what his own reaction might be. Rose Landry had been at the game, and the announcers were all too happy to put her on the jumbotron often enough that Ilya was starting to think they had a grudge against him. Everytime she was shown she was cheering, showing off her Hollander jersey, or blowing kisses towards Shane. Ilya played like shit, he was willing to admit that. He couldn’t get his head out of Hollander’s ass, and even his hits on him were half hearted. Shane scored on him twice, and he had spent the game avoiding the one person he wanted to talk to most. He had written out three texts before the game, and two after, all five were unsent. It felt like groveling to admit there was something missing to be in Montreal and not with Shane. But he had Rose Landry now. He took his phone out, checking the homescreen willing that the name Jane was there. It wasn’t, he pushed his phone back in his pocket, turning his full attention back to where his team mates were leaning against the bar, chatting up the bartender. He leans in close to the girl, her tits were on display, and Ilya made a show of glancing down and then back up at her, she blushed and asked for his order, he gave it back quickly. A double shot of vodka neat. He didn’t want to remember tonight, needed his mind off Hollander. She placed the drink in front of him, taking his card to start a tab. She waved at someone down the bar, and Ilya followed the wave and his eyes landed on Miles. Rose Landry’s friend. Miles met Ilya’s eyes and picked his hand up in a wave of acknowledgement. If Miles was here, Rose was here, Shane was here. He snatched the glass up and turns around as slowly as he can, his eyes raking across the dance floor, looking at every person. He was praying Shane wasn’t here, that he wasn’t here with Rose, that his own suffering wouldn’t be amplified tonight. He kept his face as firm as possible, trying not to betray the fear in his stomach. His eyes landed on Shane. No. Not here. Not now. His hands were on her waist, her hands were pushing up his shirt, touching his abs, and he was laughing. Why did he never laugh like that around Ilya? Shane never went to clubs. His mouth went dry watching the exchange, gripping the glass he brought it up to his mouth, taking it all in one go. His eyes never leave the couple on the dance floor. A woman comes up to him, draping her arms on his shoulders. “Hey, I could be what you’re looking for so intensely” He rips his gaze off the dance floor to the pretty brunette hanging off of him. He needed a distraction and he needed it now. Give Hollander a taste of his own medicine, he would see him eventually. And his attention would be on this woman. He gave her a smirk and guided her to the dancefloor, positioning her body to rub up against him. He tried to focus on the way her body moved, how she felt under his touch, but his eyes kept drifting to Hollander and Rose. Hollander was glancing around, almost like he was looking for something, and he wasn’t paying much mind to Rose. Ilya pushed his nose into her throat, kissing up the column of it, she moans and rubs back against him appreciatively. The next glance he takes he sees Rose alone with Miles, he picks his head up searching for Hollander, finding him staring at Ilya from across the floor his face was blank but his eyes were following Ilya’s hands as he touched her chest. Good, maybe he would feel the hurt that was plaguing him right now. Shane’s eyes touched Ilya’s for a moment, then he was walking towards him. Nope, time to bail. He couldn’t talk to him right now, one word and his whole facade would crumble. “Gotta go. Bathroom.” He whispers in her ear and she kisses his cheek before finding the next closest available guy and begins grinding on him. Ilya didn't glance back to see how far Hollander had gotten, but he picked up the pace, heading to the bathrooms. The hallway where they are located is shockingly empty, and he is able to slip into one of the private single bathroom rooms, slamming the door behind him and locking it quickly. Did Shane chase him through the club? He goes to the sink, staring at his reflection. He was pathetic, trying not to cry over his hook up having a girlfriend. Images of his hands on her passed through his brain, of her seeing Shane’s face when he cums, getting to kiss him in public, hold his hand. It feels like there is a boulder on his chest and a marble in his throat. He tried to steady himself in the mirror. Shane was with Rose Landry, he didn’t need Ilya anymore. He could be happy with her, in public. But why did it hurt so much? Heavy banging shook him from his despair, someone was knocking on the door. Ilya willed it to go away, closing his eyes. But the knocking just got heavier. “Occupied.” His voice broke and he wiped his face off. The banging stopped momentarily before coming back again. “It’s me, Rozanov. Let me in.” “Occupied.” Shane. It was him banging on the door. He had followed him here. But he couldn’t let him see him like this. “Rozanov, if you don’t let me in, I will wait for you to come out.” Ilya trudged towards the door, pausing to take a deep breath before slipping the lock out of place. Jumping back like it burned him, he slid away from the door and leaned on the sink facing the mirror, he couldn’t face him. Not like this. The door is shoved open roughly, like he was expecting to meet resistance. Shane slipped inside and locked the door behind him, then leaned on it facing Ilya’s back. He could see him in the mirror with his hands in his pockets. Now that he was inside, he must have lost confidence. “What do you want, Hollander?”
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,097
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77855851