1 – 6 of 6 Works in hollzy81
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Shane knows something is wrong before the game even ends—his Heat rising fast and uncontrollable. Ilya gets him home just in time, knots him deep, and refuses to let him face it alone. The roar of the crowd faded as Shane Hollander skated off the ice. The ache in his muscles was nothing compared to the heat building beneath his skin. He had been off tonight— missing shots he could normally make with his eyes closed. His movements felt sluggish, unfocused, his body refusing to respond like it usually did. He could feel Ilya’s gaze on him before he even looked up, that intense blue stare sharp and searching. “You alright, Shane?” Ilya asked, skating up beside him. Shane forced a smile, stiff and brittle. “Yeah. Just… off tonight. Bad luck, I guess.” It was a lie, and they both knew it. The Centaurs still won, but the victory felt hollow. As soon as the buzzer sounded, Shane peeled away and headed for the locker room, desperate to escape Ilya’s attention. The noise, the lights, the closeness of too many bodies—it pressed in on him. He showered quickly. Hot water did nothing to ease the burn coiling tighter inside him. By the time he dressed, his hands were shaking. He kept his head down, avoided eye contact, focused on breathing through the growing discomfort. He was already in the passenger seat when Ilya finally appeared, damp hair pushed back, concern on his face. Ilya slid in beside him, the door shutting with a heavy thud. The familiar scent of his cologne filled the car, grounding and overwhelming. “Shane, what the fuck is going on?” Ilya’s voice was low, edged with steel. Shane swallowed hard. The truth spilled out before he could stop it. “I think… I think my Heat is starting soon.” The words hung between them. “Shit,” Ilya breathed. He turned the key, the engine roaring to life. “We need to get you home.” When the first cramp hit, it wasn’t just pain—it was his body pulling inward, desperate, needy, demanding. His cock twitched uselessly in his pants, half-hard and oversensitive, while slick soaked his underwear. “Ilya—” A hand landed on his thigh, warm and steady. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m driving as fast as I can.” The heat surged, relentless. Shane shifted, slick gathering where he couldn’t ignore it. Every bump in the road sent spikes of sensation through him. He whimpered, squirming, trying to find a comfortable position. There was none. The pressure built like a tide threatening to drown him. He broke. His hand slid down, rubbing himself through his pants, desperate for any relief. Friction was a small mercy, a brief distraction from the fire inside him. He arched his back, breath ragged. “Ilya… I need you, please.” Ilya didn’t hesitate. The car sped up, the world outside blurring as Shane’s breathing grew shallow. He could feel the heat radiating off him, thick and real. At home, Ilya killed the engine and helped him out of the car. Shane barely made it inside before collapsing against him, burying his face in Ilya’s neck. “Ilya,” he whimpered. “It hurts so bad.” “It’s alright, sweetheart,” Ilya murmured. “I’ll give you what you need.” He scooped Shane up in his arms, carrying him bridal style. Shane clung to him, trembling. Upstairs, he laid him on the bed. Clothes were stripped away quickly, every touch paired with soft kisses and whispered praise. “So beautiful,” Ilya murmured, over and over. He ran a hand through Shane’s hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands, kissing his forehead, cheeks, neck—each touch setting off new heat. Shane moaned, hips bucking. He was already leaking onto the sheets, need pouring out uncontrollably. He reached for Ilya, fingers clawing at his back. Ilya’s fingers brushed lower. He traced Shane’s hip, sending shivers down him. He dipped a finger into Shane’s slick, and Shane gasped. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Sweetheart, you’re leaking so much. This is all for me, isn’t it?” Shane nodded, unable to speak. He reached for Ilya, pulling him closer. He needed him, craved him. Ilya leaned down, kissing him deeply. He pulled back, eyes blazing with desire that matched Shane’s. “Taste yourself, Hollander.” Shane obeyed, coating his fingers with his own slick, bringing them to his mouth, sucking greedily. The taste was intoxicating, a mix of arousal and desperation. He closed his eyes, savoring it. “So fucking good for me,” Ilya rasped. He moved to the bedroom drawer, returning with nipple clamps and a dildo. Shane’s eyes widened, a mix of fear and excitement. He knew
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,091
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77327126
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What if Shane was the one that almost died in a plane crash in The Long Game?
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,986
- Chapters:
- 4/4
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76955341
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Ilya drinks to cope and crashes hard. Shane is gentle, patient, and exactly what he needs.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,095
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76126621
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Post-sex, Shane wakes up nonverbal and floaty in Ilya’s arms at the cottage.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,380
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75833131
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Shane's shorts got Ilya actin' up by hollzy81
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-12-11
A quiet afternoon turns dangerous when Shane wears the shorts he knows will ruin Ilya’s self-control. Shane and Ilya were home, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the room. Ilya was sprawled on the plush couch, resting on his back, his eyes glued his phone. The scent of rain-soaked earth drifted in from the open window, mingling with the faint aroma of Shane's cologne, a familiar and comforting presence. Shane emerged from the shower, the steam still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and tousled. He walked downstairs, the soft thud of his bare feet against the wooden floorboards the only sound breaking the silence. He was wearing shorts, but not just any shorts. They were the kind that Ilya knew, the kind that made his breath hitch, the kind that screamed, "Fuck me." They were a faded, soft denim, riding low on his hips, the waistband barely concealing the curve of his ass. Ilya's mouth watered instantly. He couldn't help it. He’d been captivated by Shane since the moment they met, and even after years together, the man still had the power to render him speechless. Shane seemed to notice his husband's reaction, a shy smile playing on his lips. He turned and headed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his back to Ilya, offering the perfect view of his ass. Ilya couldn't take it anymore. He rose from the couch in two swift strides, crossing the room and pressing himself against Shane's back. He wrapped his arms around Shane's waist, his hands finding purchase on the soft denim. "These shorts," Ilya murmured, his voice husky, "will be the death of me." He started grinding his half-erect cock against his husband's ass, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through him. Shane moaned, pushing back against his husband, his body arching slightly. "Wore them just for you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck," Ilya breathed, the word a prayer, a promise. He started squeezing Shane's ass, his fingers kneading the soft flesh. Shane groaned, his body trembling. Ilya trailed kisses along Shane's neck, his lips and teeth finding the sensitive skin just below his ear. Shane closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his husband's shoulder, and whimpered softly. "Does that feel good?" Ilya asked, his voice a low rumble. Shane moaned and nodded, his breath catching in his throat. Ilya started touching Shane's nipples through his shirt, twitching them between his fingers, teasing them with a gentle touch. Shane moaned out loud, the sound a raw, desperate plea. "Fuck, Ilya... more," he begged, his voice laced with need. Ilya, already on the edge, was completely turned on by everything, the feel of Shane's body against his, the sound of his moans, the way his eyes were glazed with desire. He couldn't help himself. He slapped Shane's ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room. Shane moaned, pressing closer to his husband, his body seeking more. "Again," he pleaded, his voice barely a whisper. Ilya cursed under his breath. "Fuck, Hollander. You’re perfect." And he smacked Shane's ass again, harder this time. Shane whimpered, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure. "Ilya... fuck..." Shane's cock was leaking furiously, his shorts and boxers soaked in pre-cum, the evidence of his arousal undeniable. He couldn't take it anymore. He ground his ass harder against his husband, his hips moving in a desperate rhythm, and moaned, "Please." Ilya grabbed Shane's hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Words, Hollander. What do you need?" Shane moaned. "I need you to fuck me... on this counter, fuck, Ilya." He started grinding harder, his body writhing with anticipation. "As you wish," Ilya said, his voice a low growl. He reached down, his fingers finding Shane's front. "Spit." Shane obeyed instantly, his eyes locked on Ilya's, and spit on his fingers. "Good boy," Ilya murmured, a possessive edge to his voice. Shane's eyes fluttered at the nickname, his body already trembling with the promise of pleasure. Ilya shoved Shane's shorts and boxers down in one swift movement, revealing his wet, throbbing cock. He started circling his hole with his fingers, his touch slow and deliberate, preparing him. Shane moaned desperately, his body arching. "Please... Ilya..." Ilya smacked his ass again, the sound sharp in the air. "You take what I give you, understand?" "Yes... Fuck... Ilya, whatever you say." Ilya groaned, his own control slipping. He pushed a finger in, slowly, deliberately, stretching Shane's hole. Shane moaned out loud, his body tensing. "This hole is so fucking tight," Ilya whispered, his voice thick with anticipation. "Can't wait to get it all loose." Shane moaned at the words, his hips bucking. Ilya added another finger, scissoring them, his touch becoming more insistent. He moved closer to Shane's lips, hovering over his ear. "Do you want that... want me to ruin your hole and make it mine forever? Ruin you for everyone else?" Shane's eyes rolled back, his head lolling against Ilya's shoulder. Ilya's fingers found his prostate, and he began to stroke it, his touch precise and relentless. Shane moaned, a long, drawn-out sound of pure pleasure. "Yes... fuck... yes, Ilya... ruin me."
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,721
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75604546
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At the secluded cottage, Shane and Ilya's intimate evening takes a turn as Ilya proposes something new.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,161
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #75594731