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Shane Hollander begins his NHL career unchallenged when Ilya Rozanov enters the KHL after World Juniors. One season of being allowed to terrorize the ice and the Winner’s Room is enough for Boston to drag Ilya out of Russia.
What they had not accounted for in releasing a second generational talent into the league was that not all predators are solitary. Ilya may want to bring Hollander to his knees, but he wants to present the defeat of an inferior player to his feet first.
He just has to convince Hollander to let him.
- Part 2 of Winner Takes All
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 114,576
- Chapters:
- 15/?
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #81434161
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In which Ilya works in an adult toy store, and Shane is peer pressured.
OR
How Shane finds himself being fucked by the hot employee who was selling him sex toys.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 52,512
- Chapters:
- 10/10
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77693231
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what you carry (and what you unpack) by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-02-27
Ahead of the Sochi Olympics, Shane, chronic over-packer, has invited J.J. over to help him sort the unnecessaries from the importants, hang out, and absolutely nothing else.
When J.J. comes over and finds something unexpected in Shane's closet, things take a turn.
(Or, J.J. discovers Shane's dildo: the fic.)
- Part 6 of j.j.'s bisexual adventures
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,638
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #80359481
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Lily: i can’t wait to fuck you Jane: Yeah, about that…I’m nervous, Ilya. Lily: don’t be. i will make it good for you. i promise Lily: you are not the first virgin i’ve taken Shane swallowed, licking over his lips and imagining Ilya’s beautiful fingers sliding over the keys when he wrote that text: You are not the first virgin I’ve taken. Shane tried to suppress the next thought—a thought that surprised even him: Hopefully I’ll be the last.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 10,951
- Chapters:
- 3/3
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77348066
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After a crushing defeat on the rink, hockey star Shane Hollander clashes with airport security, ending up in a steamy interrogation with Officer Ilya Rozanov. A routine frisk turns into erotic punishment, with Shane submitting to spanks and deep, relentless fucking, which is the best he's ever had.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,787
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77570231
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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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Ilya and Shane are snowed in.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,604
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77316371
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Hollanov NSFW Sketches by Anonymous
Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
2026-01-07
A place for my half-baked Hollanov NSFW. It was inevitable folks. This is NSFW fanart.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 0
- Chapters:
- 8/?
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #77266151
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What do you get the man who self-proclaimedly has everything he could ever want and need? This is the dilemma Shane faces yet again, wondering what on earth he could possibly get Ilya for his birthday. The answer comes in the form of raiding Ilya’s closet and impulsive 3 AM purchases. or the hollanov birthday sex au no one asked for
- Part 2 of vignettes in time
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,111
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76853676
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“Shh, shh. Do not scream.” Ilya's pretty, piquant face was inches from his own. “It's just me.” Just him? Just Ilya fucking Romanov, in his apartment, in his room, in his bed. While Shane had a dildo up his ass and his cock in his hand. Oh god. Oh god oh god. This couldn't be happening. Shane forgot he gave Ilya an extra key to his apartment. Ilya walks in on something interesting. It was a cold night in February, and Shane was alone in his apartment while the rest of his team was out celebrating their win over Boston. Shane should have been out with them, drinking his ginger-ale while everyone else ordered pitchers. He'd told Hayden that he wasn't feeling well after the game, that he wanted to make sure he didn't get worse and mess up their next match against the Admirals. Shane didn't like lying. He was bad at it. And it seemed like he was doing it an awful lot lately. It was snowing outside, fat white flakes filling the window and sticking to the glass in pretty crystalline patterns. Shane opened the curtains to peer out over the wintry scene. The last night had been clear and beautiful, and he'd been looking out at the stars over a mop of golden curls before his eyes had drifted closed. Tonight, there were no stars, only grey swirling clouds. And somewhere up there in that dark slate sky, Ilya was flying home to Boston. A lump sat heavy in Shane's chest like he'd swallowed a rock. What was Ilya doing? Looking out through the window at the city lights below and wondering which ones shone from Shane's apartment? Was he reclined in his seat with his earbuds in, his blue eyes all dreamy and relaxed, thinking of nothing at all? Or was he thinking of his Russian girlfriend and the life that Shane knew nearly nothing about? Shane turned away from the window and shook himself. Get it together, Hollander. This is just embarrassing. Pining like an angsty teenager. Ilya would laugh at him if he knew. Ilya looked beautiful when he laughed. Well, to be fair, he looked beautiful all the damn time. Especially when he was in Shane's bed, naked and shameless, looking at Shane with a smirk like he wanted to just eat him up. Between his legs, Shane's cock twitched. Jesus, that was embarrassing. Was that all it took to get him going? Shane took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't help slow his racing heart. God, it just never stopped, did it? He couldn't get away from it. From him. Somehow Ilya found a way to worm himself into his head, even when he was nowhere in sight. He took up space in Shane's head the same way he took up space in any room he was in, larger than life, his presence commanding. That roguish face, those messy curls, the shapely mouth that could flash a charming smile one moment and a challenging snarl the next. The easy way he asked for what he wanted from Shane - or demanded it. And god, how good it felt to give it to him. His phone buzzed from the table. Shane sighed. Probably Hayden again, asking if he was feeling better. Shane considered saying yes, and that he would come by the bar shortly. It would be a welcome reprieve. A distraction. Wasn't that just what he needed? The hot, heavy weight between his legs pulsed again, insistent. He couldn't ignore it. Shane set his phone to Do Not Disturb without looking at who had called. He couldn't handle talking to anyone right now. Not like this. He stood there foolishly, staring out the window with his cock tenting his pants, thinking about pretty blue eyes and chiseled abs, about the moles that dotted Ilya's back, how his gold chain bounced on his collarbones as he fucked Shane into the mattress... Maybe what he just needed to get Ilya out of his system. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't wind up counting down the days 'til the playoffs, haunting the calendar and waiting, yearning. Shane took off his clothes, slow and meticulous as always, starting with his shirt and ending with his socks and underwear and making sure everything was tucked neatly into the laundry hamper. Naked, he made his way into the bathroom and took the little box of Kleenex from the shelf over the sink and brought it out next to the bed. Next to it he put his bottle of lube, the good one with the pump top because Ilya didn't like the one that had to pop open. This ritual complete, Shane threw back the covers and rolled into the soft fresh-pressed sheets, so cool against his flushed skin. At the first stroke of his slicked hand, Shane's eyes closed. The tension left his body in a slow warm wave, like sinking into a hot bath. He started slow, pushing his hips up into his palm and sliding his thumb over the wet tip. His free hand drifted absently across his chest, rubbing his thumbs over his nipples and thinking about Ilya kissing his way down his chest. So sensitive, Hollander. So easy. Shane's hand worked faster up and down his shaft, his breath coming in short punched-out gasps. Sweat prickled at his brow. Better, this was better, but it was not enough. It wasn't what he really needed, what his body craved. Frustration coiled in his stomach like a fist. “Fuck,” he said, and got up from the bed. He wiped his lubed hand on a towel and went rummaging in his closet for what was hidden in the very back in a box wrapped in a hoodie, like he was afraid someone would break into his apartment for the sole purpose of snooping. What colour? Rozanov had demanded. What colour, Hollander? This one was blue. He hadn't told Rozanov. The silicone was cool at first but warmed quickly at the touch of Shane's hand. The texture wasn't as smooth as the first toy he'd gotten – that one had been plain, unrealistic, as though Shane could ignore what it was supposed to be imitating, like that would somehow make any difference at all. This one had thick raised veins, a defined head, and an upward curve that promised to find and massage that incredible little spot inside him that Ilya always found with an easy crook of his fingers.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,382
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Files:
- 1
- AO3:
- #76505936
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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