41 – 60 of 66 Works in Exhibitionism

  • Exhibitionism ×
  1. Big Reputation by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
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    2026-02-06

    “Some useless gossip site posted a story about Rozanov,” Hayden finally explained, turning to him. “A tell-all interview with one of his latest conquests. It was a bit… well… sensational.” “...Sensational?” Shane repeated, dumbly. Was that his voice? Did he sound like that? Hayden grimaced, but JJ heroically stepped in. “She said his dick is so big she cried,” he said, simply, as if he had not just upended Shane’s entire life with a total of nine words. “And not cried in the fun way.” In the fun way. Oh dear.

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    AO3:
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  2. “What if somebody sees us?” Shane protests, but he’s tilting his head, giving Ilya access to more salty skin.

    “Scandalous,” Ilya murmurs, kissing up to Shane’s ear, taking a second to tug on the lobe with his teeth and smiling when Shane’s breath hitches, “A married couple kissing in their own house.”

    “Oh, is kissing all you’re thinking of doing?” Shane asks, pretending to be coy as he buries a hand into Ilya’s hair. “Is that all you want?”

    Ilya feels like a fucking dog in heat, ready to clamp his teeth on Shane's shoulder and fucking hump his thigh until he comes; ready to turn him around and fuck him right there in the hallway for anyone to see, cheek to the wall and knees shaking as Ilya mounts him like a fucking animal.

    “Let me show you what I want,” Ilya replies, hoarse and drunk off something much stronger than the champagne and the vodka he had.

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  3. Regina to Edmonton was nine hours by bus if the weather was decent; it took a bit longer if — for example — your bus lost power on Highway 11 just past Dundurn, Saskatchewan. Team buses, night drives, and one way things might have started differently.

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  4. “Tell me about your dream again,” Ilya says.

    It’s two in the fucking morning, and Shane’s body is already worked up from Ilya’s palm kneading his thigh, his lips brushing against Shane’s hipbone. Hasn’t even had his cock touched yet. He’s been hard for half an hour, and Ilya has done absolutely nothing to help him. Wine-tipsy and warm all over, Shane had let Ilya lay him on his back, stripping him slowly: t-shirt pushed to his armpits, Ilya’s mouth chasing the hem, pulling it over his head. Too slow for Shane’s liking, Ilya unzipped Shane’s pants, shimmying them down his thighs, tongue flat against the soft skin on the inside of his left thigh, leaving it wet. Ilya’s breath prickled cold, rippling through the rest of his body.

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    AO3:
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  5. Shane turns bright red, his freckles showing up as lighter pink specks against the dusky color of his cheeks. “It’s not like… I haven’t been… I don’t have a crush on you or anything!” “Why not?” Hayden demands, too shocked to filter his words. “We’re best friends! I’d have a crush on you if I was gay!” Shane gapes up at him. Jackie puts her hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing. Hayden realizes, far too late, how that must have sounded. Well, at this point, it’s too late for him to do anything other than lean into it, right? He folds his arms across his chest. “I mean, jeez, man, am I not hot enough for you?” Hayden Pike has a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day. And then, just to make it worse, Ilya Rozanov shows up.

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    AO3:
    #78387471
  6. “What are we talking about?”

    “Scott Hunter’s dick,” Ilya immediately says and Shane sighs, looking deeply resigned.

    “That’s not technically true,” Kip offers but Ilya shakes his head at him.

    “Was about to find out how many inches.”

    -
    Picks up the fantasy described at the end of shimmers that innocent light back but can also be read as a standalone.

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  7. A blurry video, the nightclub lights dancing in neon pink. Two tall, muscular figures dance in a corner, focused completely on the other as they sway into each other. It blows the internet up. Or, a video of Shane grinding on Ilya, drunk out of his mind, is leaked. It goes predictably. OR, Hollanov are hoes and keep on exposing their sex life. They make it everyone's problem. (it isn't a problem, really)

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  8. Five times Scott Hunter thinks about Hollander and Rozanov together, and the one time he gets to watch.

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  9. “You like these touched, don’t you?” His hand slid up, palm covering Shane’s left nipple, thumb circling, teasing. Shane’s eyes crossed, mouth opening on a ragged keen, body arching forward to offer more. “Do you play with them at home, hm?” Ilya taunted, pinching the tight bud. “Do you twist them under your sheets while you think of me? Does Mommy ever walk in on her sweet boy tugging his little tits and moaning?” A sob-half-laugh burst from Shane, mortifying and incandescent. “N-no, Father, oh God, n-no, she—ahhh—she’d—” His hole clenched around Ilya’s cock at the mention, involuntary, lust flaring hotter. The priest caught it, chuckled. “She’d be horrified to see her precious son like this,” Ilya murmured, nails scratching lightly over the right nipple now, making Shane shudder. “Socks on, slut naked, riding his priest’s cock right in the house of God.” In the house of God, Ilya found his most devout worshipper not in the pews, but bent over the altar, begging for absolution with every thrust.

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    AO3:
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  10. Shane has a dream. Ilya gets possessive.

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  11. THE MUTE BUTTON ON SHANE'S PHONE DIDN'T WORK

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    AO3:
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  12. Shane Hollander does not go to parties seeking out Ilya Rosanov. He hardly even knows him, but he’s already impossible to ignore. When their worlds collide for the first time at a crowded party, one look, one word, one challenge might be enough to change everything… or at least make Shane question how much he’s willing to let someone in. Or, the fic where Shane and Ilya never even got to know each other, until one fateful night at a party where everything changes.

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    AO3:
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  13. Ilya is fairly certain that you don’t accidentally walk in on your roommate half naked this often. Shane, for his part, seems completely uninterested in correcting that assumption. The semester has only just started and Rozanov has lost count of how many times hes walked in on Hollander getting dressed in their dorm room. Its becoming a bit of a problem. "Stop making this habit, Hollander," he groans and raises his hand to his eyes. But he allows himself a small gap between his fingers to get a look without his roommate noticing. Across the room, Hollander stands in a white towel and is frantically pushing clothes around on his bed to presumably find something to wear. He shifts and leans awkwardly, his towel opening to reveal a long stretch of muscled leg and the curve of Hollanders ass. "I swear, Im not," he says defensively. "You just have terrible timing." "Change in washroom. Like others," Rozanov mumbles. And he peeks again despite himself but immediately regrets it and snaps his fingers closed when he catches a quick glimpse of the dark hair between Hollander's thighs and the length of his soft cock. Feeling like being an asshole, and also maybe hoping to see more, Rozanov drops his hand and gives Hollander a once over. Hes blushing now and piling a shirt and pair of trousers into his arms. "You could just knock, like a normal person." "Is my room too, Hollander," he says, temper rising at the notion. "I know that, but still. Ease up, eh?" "Easel up, eh?" Rozanov mocks his accent back and makes his way over to his side of the room. Hollander just huffs and with a final survey of his bed, he finds a white pair of socks and makes a beeline for their shared washroom. "I'm going to get dressed in the washroom, now." “Good job, Hollander,” Rozanov calls after him. “Here is gold star for you.” When the sound of water starts in the bathroom, probably Hollander brushing his teeth or shaving his non existent facial hair, Ilya takes off his own hoodie. His fingers dig into the dark green material and he pulls it over his head and tosses it down onto the floor beside his bed. Next he tugs off his shirt, a simple t-shirt, white and featuring a Canadian band he liked as a kid, Billy Talent. Something he listened to a lot on his walkman, enjoying the way the English rolled around in his mind. He rubs his rough hands down the center of his torso, up and down the planes of skin and then he thinks... Maybe, perhaps, Hollander could do with a taste of his own medicine. Rozanov would be lying if he claimed he hadn’t imagined it before. Hollander flustered and pink, probably caught off guard. Hollander looking at him like that. The sight of him in a towel alone is enough to wind something tight and aching in Rozanov’s gut. If Hollander pushed--if he teased-- Preferably beneath him. The bathroom door opens. Hollander steps back into the room, fully dressed now, hair neatly combed. He stops short when he sees Rozanov shirtless on his bed. “Why are you undressed?” Hollander asks. “You just gave me shit about that. Like, two minutes ago.” He smells like mint and coconut and Rozanov hates that he knows that. Rozanov pulls his hand from his abdomen which has by now trailed far lower than he intended, "Is nothing. Leave me alone, Hollander." Brown eyes fall to where Ilyas hips sit in his jeans and he catches onto Hollanders eyes to let him know hes been caught. "Okay," is all he says, and settles into his bed. The next evening, Rozanov waits in their room. He knows that Hollander is supposed to be back from an extra hockey practise shortly. And he also knows that he'll be filled with adrenaline, his hair and skin damp with sweat. Thinking about it has him half hard in his trousers already. Eagerly, he shimmies out of them until theyre pooled around his ankles and he unbuttons his shirt with trembling fingers. The shirt finds its way to the floor. In only his white boxers and socks, he sits up on the edge of his bed. From his nightstand, he takes out a magazine he keeps burried under a pile of nonsense school work.

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  14. “Ilya.” Shane’s voice cracks. He imagines himself being shown off like this to someone, anyone. They would see how desperate he is to get fucked by Ilya, they would know the core of him, the raw, pathetic truth: that he would let Ilya do anything to him.

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    AO3:
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  15. “What Hollander? Never seen a pocket pussy before?” Shane snorts, he’s seen a pocket pussy before- but this one is a little different. It’s shaped like an egg. He frowns. Ilya takes the egg-shaped object out of the bag, grinning as he unravels the packaging, “Is Japanese sex toy. I bought it online.” Or Ilya makes a sex itinerary for his schedule-loving husband.

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  16. “I got the feeling you were kind of… jealous. Of Hayden. After what happened last time. With me touching him. So I was wondering why you… y'know. Encouraged him. To do that. To me.”

    Ilya ran a hand through Shane's glossy hair, considering his answer. “Remember that time in your trophy room?”

    How Shane immediately turned red was answer enough. 

    “I felt like I was fucking a king. I felt powerful,” Ilya continued. “And to see someone getting on their knees for you… It makes me feel the same way.”

    Or: The Pikes visit the Hollander-Rozanov cottage. Ilya is a little jealous. Then he's not.

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  17. Ilya decides he and Shane should celebrate their first Christmas as a public couple by hosting the holiday at their cottage with friends and family. And then there are friends and family everywhere, and emotionally charged salads and its all a little too much. Good thing Shane is practiced at soothing out the too muchness. tl;dr Christmasy smut. Vague spoilers for The Long Game. Don't come for me if I messed up some Long Game details - it was lowkey devastating and I have yet to gear up for a reread.

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  18. five times shane and ilya's friends have questions about gay sex -- and one time they wish they knew less. OR the Centaurs are a wonderful team. accepting. kind. curious. it's that last one that has Shane wondering if he’d rather be back in montreal, hiding in the closet, than here, making up for the failures of the Canadian sexual education system.

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    AO3:
    #76165821
  19. When Shane wins his first Cup championship, Rozanov promises more than just a league win if he earns MVP as well. Rozanov delivers. For Russian translations, click on Cyrillic words

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  20. “This is just the version I use. Everyone has their preference, but I can send you the Amazon link for this book if you like,” Shane said, while Ilya flipped through the field guide. He stopped on the section on loons, where two different species were illustrated in wading water and mid-flight. Ilya pointed at one of the illustrations. A sleek dark bird, with white and black checker-board wings and a stark red eye. “We saw this one today, yes?” “Yep. The common loon. It’s aquatic, so you’ll always find them near water, usually a lake like we just saw. It’s the national bird of Canada, actually.” “Common. You can find this bird all over?” Ilya asked. “Around here, at least. It’s my favorite bird,” Shane admitted. “Pretty boring, I know.” Shane’s shoulders were hunched up, like he was embarrassed to admit that he was the bird guy, who did in fact, like birds. Well, that would not do. “Boring is good. I like boring,” Ilya insisted. (Or, Ilya Rozanov, a newly arrived hockey agent in Ottawa, falls for a local birder).

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    AO3:
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