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“You wanted this, didn’t you? You want to choke on my come?” Ilya murmured. “Yes,” Shane gasped, taking the Russian’s cock off his mouth to breathe for a second. The admission ripped from his, surely soon, sore throat. “More. Harder, Ilya.” The request was a match to Ilya’s wick. His movements doubled in speed, his hips bucking hard. Shane was lost, his consciousness reduced to Ilya’s thick head constantly pressing on the back of his throat and the iron grip on his neck. or the one in which Ilya and Shane can't keep their hands off each other.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,087
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #74506941
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Aching, Aching, Aching, and Alive by verbaepulchellae
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-11-13
They’re getting into a rhythm now, though, and Shane can see it. He can see this team winning the Cup this year. He tries not to get ahead of himself, tries to stay focused and go game by game, reminds himself that building up a team takes time and several seasons, but god. He wants this legacy: for himself, for Ottawa, for Ilya. For both of them and everyone else. Which is why, goddamnit, now is not the time to crash out over fantasies of Ilya working his whole hand down to the wrist into Shane’s ass and fucking him on his fist. And yet. Shane should know by now that timing and “good ideas” are rarely factors in whether or not he gets obsessed with something. OR: It starts, as a surprising number of things actually do, with a text from Rose.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 17,037
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #74112611
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In the end, it takes so little to break Shane...A bad day, a bout of jealousy, and Ilya telling him to get on his knees.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,856
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #74008196
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can i have your heart in a plastic box? by unearthedlove
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-11-04
Shane knows it’s silly to be annoyed by Ilya sleeping with “model-handsome men.” For god’s sake, Ilya has been in a committed relationship with Shane now for 5 and a half years and they’ve been married for 18 months. It’s stupid. (Or: Shane and Ilya attend their first All-Star Game together as a married couple and Shane learns some things from Cliff Marlow. Shane doesn’t expect to get so possessive.)
- Part 4 of future hollanov fics
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,422
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #73698401
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“You’re misbehaving,” Ilya remarked idly. Not discouraging, just curious. He set his hands on Shane’s hips and waited to see how far this would go. “We’re married,” Shane breathed, as if marriage was somehow an excuse for public indecency.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,460
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #73651941
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Shane Hollander was a man defined by rigor. By structure. By the elegant logic of a system mastered through sheer, unyielding effort. He spoke seven languages, not because they came naturally—though French and English had been a delightful exception—but because he pursued fluency like a grand, intellectual hunt. He, however, was failing Russian 301, and the solution was an enforced, peer-led intervention. His required tutor was a junior who knew the language “by osmosis”, and who, Shane knew from the university bulletin and an unfortunate run-in near the campus gym, belonged to the most obnoxious caste on campus: the frat star athletes. Ilya fucking Rozanov.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,518
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #73631196
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Shane and Ilya celebrate their first Halloween together as husbands
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,881
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #73245491
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When he lifts his eyes from Shane’s ring, Shane is still staring at him. His voice is breathless and decidedly too slow when he says, “You dragged me back here just to—” Ilya lowers his head until his nose brushes against Shane’s. “Talk a little,” he says, voice pitching low with how tight his throat has become. Then, after a beat— “And to remind you that tonight’s win is yours but you are mine every time.” Shane gets his first win on the Centaurs. Ilya rewards him with something else.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,986
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #73045111
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Fall Out of Focus by verbaepulchellae
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-10-21
Ilya grasps Hollander’s chin and turns his head so he can bite a bit cruelly at his jaw and scrape his teeth down his neck. “Guess you’ve caught up with me,” he can’t help but tease Hollander as he shudders under Ilya’s mouth. “Stanley Cup win, League MVP. Copy cat.” “Oh fuck you,” Hollander says with that boyish grin, and his hands grip Ilya’s shoulders, map down his arms. Ilya flexes and feels Hollander’s appreciative squeeze at his strength. “Don’t be a sore loser.” It's the 2015-2016 season NHL Awards. A few things need to be taken care of before the season's truly over for the summer.
- Part 2 of A bit of this, a bit of that
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,187
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #72857676
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About a month after Las Vegas, Ilya has his day with the Stanley Cup. He texts Shane to fly to Boston and celebrate with him, and they have angsty sex with the Cup in the room. FYI: It's a superstition that touching the Cup before you've won it will prevent your team from winning it. Thursday July 17, 2014 12:46pm Lily: What are you doing this weekend? Jane: Nothing. Why? Lily: Come to Boston Jane: Why? Lily: 🙄 Jane: Aren’t you in Moscow? Lily: Not yet. Come to Boston Lily: The 19th Jane: What? I can’t! That’s this Saturday Lily: Will be worth your while 😉 Jane: No way 1:24pm Jane: Flight lands at 3 Lily: 😘 *** “Are you fucking kidding me?” Hollander dropped his duffel bag, jaw slack with disbelief. Ilya stretched his arms out in welcome, a wide smile on his face. “Glad you could make it.” Sitting in the middle of his luxury penthouse was three feet of gleaming silver, practically winking between them. Ilya leaned over, resting his arms over the top of the Stanley Cup. “This is why you texted me?” Anger twisted in Hollander’s eyes, and Ilya immediately knew he’d made the right choice on how to spend his day with the Cup. “Thought I’d let you see it for yourself.” Ilya grinned. “You will probably not get another chance to be so close to it, so.” “God, fuuuck you.” Hollander rolled his entire head as he said it, looking to the ceiling as though it might have some answers. “Yes.” Ilya smirked, nodding. Hollander turned back sharply. “So that’s it? You wanna fuck me with the Stanley Cup in the room?” And there was that heat, the exact reason Ilya had known Hollander was the perfect person to celebrate with. Internally, he felt like cheering. Instead, he sauntered over, grabbing Hollander by the waist and pulling him close. The look in his eyes was so murderous it was making Ilya giddy. Hollander hadn’t even been there for five minutes, and it was already giving him a head rush. He hadn’t known if he would show up. After the NHL Awards, Ilya told himself he’d let it rest this summer. He’d enjoyed the Cup parade. He’d seen Svetlana. He’d delayed his flight to Moscow once, then twice. But now a month had passed, and on late nights and in morning showers, he could not shake the mental image of Shane Hollander jerking off for him in a Las Vegas hotel suite. The thought of that obedience alone had already made him come into his fist more times than he could count. “I’ll let you touch it.” Ilya purred, pushing his hips into Hollander’s, lining their cocks up through their sweatpants. “If you want.” Hollander tried to pin him against the wall, but Ilya had already moved on to stripping clothes off of him, piece by piece, as he tugged him further into the room. He felt cold metal hit his back and wobble, and Hollander immediately let him go, jumping back three feet. “I swear to God, Rozanov, if you let me anywhere near that thing—” “Shh, shh.” Ilya cooed, returning the Cup to its standing position before pulling Hollander back into his arms. Hollander spooked easily, and he was well aware that he was already walking a fine line. In an effort to calm him down, he kissed him, enjoying how quickly he softened in response. “Is okay. You will probably never get one of these either way.” Hollander’s nostrils flared in an intoxicating mixture of fury and arousal. “Get. Fucked.” “Am hoping to,” Ilya leaned down, dragging his lips along Hollander’s jaw and tracing teasing fingers along the soft skin beneath his shirt. Hollander exhaled, closing his eyes as he fought the inevitable, but Ilya could already feel him growing hard against him.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,676
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #72847221
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I Could Love You 'Til All the Polaroids Fade by verbaepulchellae
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid, Heated Rivalry (TV)
2025-10-14
“If I didn’t know better,” Ilya had drawled, mostly teasing, as Shane pressed adoring, apologetic kisses into his shoulder, after a hard night out a few months back. “I’d think you were embarrassed to be with me. A first for me. I will try not to let it wound my pride.” “You’re pride is fine,” Shane griped out of habit and then had nuzzled closer, held Ilya tighter because he hated that he could make Ilya feel that way. “I’m sorry. I know I do it. It’s hard for me after so long. I love you so much, it scares me shitless sometimes.” Shane's working on letting go of the control that's kept him and Ilya safe for the past ten years. The fact that he's Shane Hollander means that he's got a plan. The fact that he's with Ilya Rozanov means that plan involves fucking him stupid. And for once, Shane's kind of ready to be the one who drives Ilya out of his mind.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,509
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #72499531
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Shane and Ilya are on vacation after their first brutal year playing together.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,158
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #71853416
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Shane once told himself it was purely strategic, that Ilya was his greatest adversary on the ice and that his obsession was borne of his killer competitive instinct. Now he knew better. Shane could be battling for the Stanley Cup and in that room full of people he would look for Ilya. Always and against his better judgement. Shane wandered into the communal showers and peeled off the undershirt that stuck to his body like a sweaty second skin. His teammates milled around him with the pleasant hum of a victory in the air. Even naked under the stream of the shower heads, they swatted at each other and horsed around. Shane stuck to his corner and ignored the merrymaking. He had a reputation for being a bit of a wet blanket but he could not begrudge his team the celebrating this time. He of all people knew there were few better feelings than trouncing Boston. Every game against Rozanov went something like this. The rink was charged with electricity before they even set foot on the ice. By the time they were facing off the feeling was overwhelming. Small forms of release would come in body checks and stolen pucks, in thrusting each other against the boards, in assists and goals. At some point around the second period they would start to lose sight of anyone but each other. Shane once told himself it was purely strategic, that Ilya was his greatest adversary on the ice and that his obsession was borne of his killer competitive instinct. Now he knew better. Shane was looking for Ilya because not a single person in the arena of screaming fans mattered. Shane could be battling for the Stanley Cup and in that room full of people he would look for Ilya. Always and against his better judgement. This game had became a two person test of wills, a stubborn and begrudging negotiation of who would come out on top that night. They hated to lose about as much as they loved to fuck each other. And that energy would inevitably follow them into locker room as they quickly moved through the post game rituals. Shane was almost shocked his teammates could not feel it, that he and Ilya orbited each other. The press conferences were torture. It was one of the rare times he and Ilya got to exist together in public without skates on. But there were cameras everywhere and questions designed to instigate barbs that would end up in headlines or on Twitter. “Shane, you have played against Rozanov for five seasons. Talk to us about that. What does it take to beat someone with his agility and strength?” Or “Ilya, Hollander’s backhand conversion at the end of the second period looked an awful lot like one of your signature moves. What do you have to say to that?” Ilya loved when the press leaned into their rivalry. He would give taciturn one word answers or wink to the camera with his signature grin. He rarely if ever made eye contact with Shane. Their feet would tap against each other occasionally, but beyond that they were focused on the mics and cameras in their faces, as if they were two unruly specimens behind a wall of glass. Finally they were back with their teammates and at the part of the night where they made their inevitable excuses about why they could not go out that night to celebrate their victory or bemoan their loss. A festering injury. A previous bad night of sleep. A far off girl who wanted to FaceTime. And each time their teammates would accept it with teases and exasperated shrugs. Now they were off to the race. Sprinting to Ilya’s penthouse or Shane’s empty apartment, where every minute to midnight felt like running through water or dancing on a knife’s edge, equal parts exhausting and excruciating. This night it was Shane who burst into Ilya’s apartment and into his arms. They were on each other as the door shut, wrestling for the upper hand as if this was the real conclusion to their on ice spars, a final wrestle that had them at each others throats and hip to hip. Ilya practically consumed Shane’s mouth. His tongue delved into him like he had hadn’t had a drink of water for days. “Shh,” Ilya mumbled thickly as Shane whined into his mouth. “I know. I will not let you out of my sight.” They had until noon of next day, when Shane’s team would make their way to the airport and back to Montreal. Getting a proper morning was a real treat for Shane and Ilya, and one they never squandered. Ilya spent the first two hours taking Shane apart in every way possible. First with his hands as he gripped their shafts tightly against one another. Next on his knees with Shane’s cock in his mouth. Then with his length buried into Shane and his balls slapping wildly as he piled into him from behind. And then with Shane riding Ilya as Ilya held his impossible large hands to his hips in the way that Shane loved, that made him feel somehow feminine and so obviously a man, the sharply sculpted lines of his abdominals moving as he rode Ilya’s cock. It was usually here, where Ilya had a perfect view of Shane’s wanton and blown out eyes, that he couldn’t hold back his commentary, often in Russian, a language that Shane had slowly begun to understand. In Russian, “you are so beautiful. Taking me like you could do it forever, like this is all you want.” Shame let out a diabolically low moan, one that sounded as if he were in pain. He arched his back as he took Ilya even deeper inside him, frantically riding him as his muscular thighs drove himself up and down. This was nirvana. He felt a level of transcendence here that he only came close to feeling when he completed a perfect assist or slotted in the winning goal in a playoff game. Sex and hockey. He was fastidious in both. Athletic, quietly but consistently skilled, aiming to please. Shane came first, pulling Ilya in with him. He loved the feeling of Ilya’s warm release filling him. And the panting the came after. And him leaning forward to let Ilya’s softening cock pull out. And the feeling of his come running down Shane, gushing out in a way that made him stumble to the bathroom with a mumble and a promise to be back over the bark of Ilya’s laughter.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,487
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #71515466
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Delicious BBQ (Bathroom Blowjob Quickie) by bubbleomatic
Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2025-09-29
Ilya wasn’t sure what turned him on more: being accepted and loved unconditionally by the Hollanders, or seeing Shane dripping wet and glistening in the summer sun. Whatever the reason was, he needed to get Shane alone. And fast.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 7,613
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #71066641
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“We both know you love to be rewarded for being good and working hard,” Ilya tenderly stroked the side of Shane’s neck with his thumb. “But when you make a mistake, I think you would maybe like a little bit of punishment.” He squeezed again on the word “punishment,” tighter, tight enough to make Shane’s breath hitch.
Shane has a penalty box installed in his home practice rink at the cottage, and it inspires some new feelings in Ilya.
Part of The Off Season Fic Fest!
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 6,279
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #69845031
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Sometimes Ilya needs a visceral reminder of who Shane belongs to. So Shane tilts his head back, closes his eyes, and opens his mouth.
- Part 4 of Only Ever You
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 385
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #69061041
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Shane shared a moment with Rozanov in a hotel gym over a year ago. Still obsessed with his rival, he is now forced to share a bed with him for one night.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,440
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #68777651
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Ilya Rozanov is a single dad who's just trying to live his life and be the best dad he can. He never thought that love was for him until he has a chance encounter with pro hockey player Shane Hollander at a hotel bar in Vegas...
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 79,257
- Chapters:
- 24/24
- Files:
- 2 versions
- AO3:
- #66924475
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Shane was starting to sweat a little with nerves, second-guessing his plan, not feeling nearly as brave as he did when he made the decision to do this at dinner.
“What is it?” Ilya asked as he opened the box. He held up a small plastic remote control with two buttons, turning it in his hand, trying to find an indication of what it was for.
Extremely gratuitous anniversary dinner smut.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,774
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #67341238
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She gets the stencil on and tells him to go look in the mirror, which he does. For a minute Shane just stares at the purple temporary ink, admiring the script she chose, the way that the simple design has been elegantly executed. It’s perfect, and he’s already in love with it. It’s not even on his body and he’s sold. Shocking, considering he’d been on the verge of an anxious breakdown minutes before. But his decision is steeled, and now that he sees it on his body, this feels right. “How do you like it?” She asks from her booth, and Shane turns, looking at himself in the mirror for an extra second before retreating back to where Alex is. “It’s perfect,” he says sincerely. She smiles proudly and nods. “Great! Lets get started, then.” ----- Or, the one where Shane gets a commemorative Ilya Rozanov tattoo.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,628
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #67024009