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  1. 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."

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  2. He lets him be for a bit— letting him get some of his stretches in. When he knows that Shane’s nearly done, he skates right back over to him and plops down in front of him on the ice. Shane is to his left as he gets into position to do his first stretch. “What are you doing?” Shane asks in a harsh tone. Is he still riled up from before? Turned on and thinking about them fucking right here on the ice? OR Ilya flirts with Shane while he's trying to do his pre-game stretches and Shane is getting a little too turned on by it

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  3. Ilya Rozanov announces his retirement from the NHL on a desultory Tuesday afternoon.

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  4. He’d known that this thing between them - this thing that he wasn’t allowed to want, but couldn’t ever imagine giving up - was already so much more than it was ever supposed to be. But when he’d left Ilya’s hotel room that night, with his heart still racing and his thighs still shaking, all he could think about was that they hadn’t even kissed. Not once.

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  5. Ilya is certain he's never been so scared in his life. "Relax, babe." Shane's arms wrap around his waist, chin digging into his shoulder blade. Clearly Shane does not share the same concerns as he does. "It's just a fever, she's fine." (Or, alternatively, baby Ilina is sick and Ilya is struggling.)

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  6. i do it for you by

    Heated Rivalry (TV)
    • ?
    • ✓

    2025-11-29

    As he walked past he caught a brief exchange between the two. “Thanks for cleaning up out here, I know there are things you’d rather do than clean up after us,” Rozanov laughed and kissed Shane. “Yes, I do not like playing maid for Boiziau and Pike. But I know you will stress if it is not done, so I do it. Go, relax.” In response, Shane melted into Rozanov. Shit, JJ could understand why. That was actually romantic as fuck. Damn, Rozanov. (jj and hayden visit shane at the cottage & jj realises there’s more to rozanov than he ever knew)

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  7. Ilya snorts from where he's perched at the island, cup of coffee under his nose. "Do you have to yell so loud?" Shane glares at his husband. "Your daughter is not a morning person. So, yes, I do." "She is only my daughter when you do not get along." (or, alternatively, married hollanov with their bundle of sassy joy, Ilina.)

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  8. Ilya and Shane take their kids trick-or-treating for the first time, dressed up as Batman characters!

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  9. “Last night was a lot of emotions,” he added simply. “Yeah, but they were good one. Amazing ones,” Shane insisted. Ilya shrugged. “Sometimes the wires get crossed. A lot is a lot.” The day after they win the Stanley Cup for the first time does not go as expected.

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  10. Ilya stumbles upon Hayden's new profile picture on instagram, one with his wife and four kids, and he tries to not feel anything about it. Set in 2019 and 2025

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  11. Ilya comes home to a surprise.

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  12. Shane thought about it, a lot more than he should've. And it showed. It showed in the way he'd begged Ilya to sell his Ducati the summer they got married. It showed in the number of times he'd had to calm his racing mind when Ilya took twenty minutes longer than expected at the grocery store. It showed in his heaving breaths, now. He was sitting up in his bed, his husband sleeping peacefully next to him, and he felt like he was on the edge of a panic attack. The plane didn't crash, and Ilya didn't die. Shane still feels the aftershocks.

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  13. The picture he must've made in that moment: naked and tied up, on his knees, untouched and hard, with Ilya down his throat, drool all over him, staring up at Ilya through his lashes. He was glad he couldn't actually see himself, it would've been too much, but he had no doubt this was a mental image Ilya would be saving forever. Shane's been antsy all day, and Ilya proposes he spend some time on his knees to calm his nerves. Despite his better judgment, Shane agrees.

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  14. The video returns to the set, with the camera on Harris, Shane, and Ilya again. Harris flips to the next question card. Harris: Who expressed interest in the other first? Shane and Ilya each raise the other's shoe. Harris: Ooooo! You disagree! Ilya: Shane. We both know that it was you. Shane: You were showing off! On purpose! You wanted me to react. Ilya: If that helps you sleep at night. Harris: Care to tell the story? Shane and Ilya speak over each other. Shane: No way in hell. Ilya: After the cameras stop. Shane and Ilya, freshly married and days away from their first game together, agree to make a silly video as a couple for the Centaurs' social media.

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