Blue4113
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Still, he can’t help it. He’s fucking horny.
“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.” Shane stands, hands on his hips. He fixes Ilya with his game plan look he gets right before he gives the team a speech in the locker room. “You’re gonna finish your game, I’m gonna finish cleaning, then you’ll—“
“Fuck your brains out?” Ilya interrupts.
“Then you’re gonna make us some lunch, and we’re gonna eat it on the back patio.”
Shane cockwarms Ilya. Ilya tries to be a good boy.
Bookmarked by Blue4113
11 Jan 2026
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Magnetic Fields by thecouchsofa
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
07 Dec 2025
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Lily: How many times can you come in an hour?
Shane doesn’t know. But he’s happy to test it.
Bookmarked by Blue4113
10 Jan 2026
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Rozanov glanced at Shane's phone screen, reading the top notification. Then his mouth curved. “Duolingo, huh? So fucking boring, Hollander.”
Shane’s face went hot. “Yeah,” he said. “Learning French.”
Rozanov’s eyes snapped to his. The smirk deepened. “Bad liar, Hollander. You are fluent.”
or - Ilya finds out that Shane has been learning Russian behind his back.
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- English
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Bookmarked by Blue4113
10 Jan 2026
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Puck Bunny by Lilbaebloo
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid
07 Dec 2025
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Shane wears Ilya's jersey.
Ilya's brain short-circuits.
Series
- Part 2 of Love in a Cold Climate
- Language:
- English
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- 3,295
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- 1/1
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Bookmarked by Blue4113
31 Dec 2025
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He nuzzles against the exposed skin of his neck, inhaling the scent that clings to his suit jacket collar. It’s perfect.
“...Hollander,” He hears Rozanov say, urgent like it’s not the first time he’s said it. “Shane,” he follows it up with, and that snaps him out of it. He’s never called him that. Shane, reluctantly, lifts his face a little, eyes glazed over as he meets Rozanov’s eyes.
“What?”
“You stink,” Rozanov says, concern dripping. “No, you—fuck. You reek. What is—” Ilya’s fingers lift up, tugging at the scent patch, revealing more of the spot beneath it. Even Shane can smell himself at that point. He does reek. Reeks of heat, of Omega, of honey and sweetness, of something that would melt on your tongue.
Shane reefs himself back. The Omega inside him aches, mourns, whimpers at the loss of contact. It’s needed, though. He scrambles back, hand slapping at his neck to force the peeled patch back down over his scent gland. He backs up till his spine knocks against the bathroom stall.
“You are in heat at award show? Why would you hide this? Why would you not call out sick? Are you—are you insane? You care this much about trophy?”
OR Shane goes into heat in Vegas
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Bookmarked by Blue4113
31 Dec 2025