Chapter Text
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“Don’t be a fucking buzzkill, Hollander!” JJ was hitting him on the back, even as he was shoved forward, “It’s my bachelor party!”
“Right, of course,” Shane voice sounded distant, even to his own ears. He stared up at the neon lights of the club in downtown Montreal like they were flashing his death date.
It wasn’t just that he was, for the most part, deeply uncomfortable in clubs of any kind, or that most of the team was already drunk and he was sober, there was the added shit layer that this was a very upscale strip club, and Shane couldn’t think of a place that he would want to be less in the world.
“Come on Shane,” Hayden laughed, smacking him in the same place in the middle of his back, “Let me live vicariously through you. Jackie will kill me if I even look at one of them.”
Jackie probably had the right idea, he thought privately, even as he was steered inside, borne on a tide of extremely drunk, boisterous Montreal Metros.
It was a big space, darkly lit by strips of multicolored neon. A large bar dominated the back wall, while several stages split the rest of the room. Women and a few men were walking around with platters of drinks, bending over booths and small tables, angling themselves to stay out of the way of the stages as much as possible.
Against his will, Shane was steered back towards a large booth in the center of the place, with a few of every stage. He squeezed himself between JJ and Hayden, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the noise of the team, the music thrumming through the place, and the clinking of glass as shots were set down in front of all of them.
“Can’t avoid it this time, Captain!” several people chorused, and Shane forced a smile, picking up the shot glass and throwing back the liquid inside, keeping a determinedly straight face even as it burned all the way down his throat, settling in his chest, loosening the knot there just slightly.
He tried to keep up with the multiple conversations flowing around him, sipping on a beer that had been placed in front of him by a very pretty blonde, and laughed as the others shoved JJ up to the front of a stage, a stack of bills in his hand, and one of those tacky sashes that said “bride” around his neck.
He was just starting to relax, when JJ seized the back of his neck, pulling him out of their booth, and standing him in front of the entire table.
“One more surprise,” he was grinning in the way Shane associated with imminent misery, and pulled him towards a side hall, lined with private rooms.
Immediately, he balked, trying to back away, but he hit a solid wall of the others behind him, blocking him in.
“Shane! Shane! Shane! Shane! Shane!” they were chanting, and he caught sight of Hayden, his phone up, a grin on his face.
“Hayden-” Shane tried to implore him, but everyone was laughing as he was led into one of the small, separate rooms, and shoved down into a plush leather armchair.
“A gift for you, Captain!” JJ saluted him, his eyes sparkling with laughter, “And for me too!”
As the door shut behind him, Shane was nearly hyperventilating. He had never even set foot in a strip club before, let alone had a private dance. Was he supposed to touch? Would that be offensive? Would it be even more offensive if he didn’t try to touch? Should he tell her that he was gay, just to put her at ease? Then at least she would know it wasn’t her problem that he couldn’t get hard when she danced on him.
If she danced on him, he had no fucking clue.
He thought about trying to bolt out the door, dodge around the rest of the guys and just try to pretend that he had had a good time when they were good and drunk and about to forget about him.
His entire body felt tense as the door was pushed open. He trained his eyes on the floor, monologuing before he could stop himself,
“Just so you know, my buddies paid for this dance for me and I’m sure you’re very nice and very pretty and good at what you do but I’m actually gay so you can just- Do what you need to do but I don’t want you to be offended because I’m not as into this as you’re probably…usually…used to…”
He trailed away as he looked up, and met the eyes of the very tall, very broad, very handsome man leaning against the doorframe.
They stared at each other, and Shane blinked, struck dumb.
He was wearing a meshy sort of shirt, so that his skin shown clean through, and shorter shorts than the ones Shane used for his workouts, with a kind of patterned tights situation…fishnets, Shane thought they were called, tucked into heavy boots.
He was well-muscled, almost like a professional athlete, and his light brown hair curled in a delicate way, long enough to brush low on his forehead and the back of his neck.
And if all this wasn’t enough, his face looked like those sculptures he had seen in museums the few times Rose had dragged him into one. He had a strong nose, strong jaw, cheeks that were perfectly hollowed, and eyes that were sharp and calculating.
He was by far the most gorgeous person that Shane had ever seen. Ever.
His eyebrow arched as he looked at Shane, and he blushed, realizing that he had absolutely been staring at him for way too long.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes flicking back to the floor again, “I didn’t- Uh- Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Shane looked up, a shiver traveling down his spine involuntarily at the deep voice, heavy with an accent that he thought may be German or Russian or something, “You did not do anything.”
“Yeah,” he tried to get a grip on himself, and fixed his eyes on a point just above the man’s shoulder, “Yeah but- I’m not- A- I wouldn’t be a good- I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“That is obvious,” he moved into the room, closing the door with a snap behind him, and Shane jumped, “No one is going to kill you.”
“Yeah,” he shook his head, wishing very much that he could disappear into the floor, “Yeah sorry, I just- This isn’t- I’ve-”
The man was moving closer to him, and Shane clenched his jaw, determined not to stare at his thick thighs or his broad shoulders.
He sat down on the little raised stage in the center of the room, and watched Shane steadily, his eyes trailing down his face, to the fists clenched in his lap, and his mouth curled up into a half sort of smile.
Shane looked pointedly in the other direction.
“Your friends do not know you are gay?” he asked, and the question was so direct that Shane’s eyes snapped to his again.
“I- I mean- Not- I don’t- I don’t think so. I haven’t- Told them.”
The man didn’t take his eyes off Shane’s face, but his head listed to the side,
“So this is…a prank for them? Me?”
“I have no idea,” Shane said honestly, “I don’t- It’s my friend JJ’s bachelor party and- I don’t know how any of this works.”
“Obviously.”
“Listen,” he cast around, realizing he didn’t know his name,
“James,” he supplied, sticking out his hand, and Shane couldn’t help but break out of his own panic a little, smiling as he took it. It was strong and calloused and-
Shit. Focus.
“Shane,” he cut his eyes back towards his face, “You can just- Tell them that you did whatever and- Keep whatever they paid you. And we can just- Go our separate ways.”
James inclined his head back, studying Shane in a way that made him feel exposed. He almost wanted to physically cover himself with his hands, even though that was silly and stupid and humiliating.
“Is what you want?” he asked, his voice washing over Shane so that it took him a second before he was taking in that he had actually asked him a question.
“What?”
“You want that? To pretend?”
The question drew him up short.
It’s what he should do. It would make the team laugh and he could reasonably go back out there and pretend like it had been a big prank and take it in stride.
It would be much harder to pretend like he didn’t think this man was the most attractive person he had ever seen if they did anything else.
But then again…
“I-” he started, but his voice trailed away as his eyes traveled down his chest. He was only a couple of feet away now, and Shane could see the defined muscles of his pectorals through his mesh shirt, down to the slight soft of his stomach, and the trail of hair that sneaked down below the waistband of his shorts.
Fuck.
He tore his eyes away, back up to meet James’, and there was a challenge there, open for Shane to take.
He swallowed, his teeth catching his bottom lip, and he watched James watch him, his eyes wandering over his face, almost like he could touch him just by looking.
“No,” he finally said, shaking his head slightly, “I don’t want- To pretend.”
There was something like triumph in his eyes, and he stood, looming over Shane in his armchair, moving forward until he was standing in between his legs. Shane looked up at him, wide-eyed, knowing that there was blank fear all over his face, but he reached down, his thumb dragging along Shane’s bottom lip.
It was feather-light, but Shane leaned into the contact shamelessly, his eyes fluttering, completely forgetting about where he was or what he was doing.
“What do you want?” his voice was low, clicked into a lower register, probably something that he used with the people that paid him, and Shane immediately started to overthink.
He had no fucking clue what he wanted, or how to ask for it.
“I-” he couldn’t quite make himself lean away from him, but tried to scramble for the right answer anyway, “Uh- Whatever you- I don’t-”
“Ah,” James’ voice sounded like he had realized something, “I see. You let me.”
“Let you…? Do what?”
“Everything,” he caught Shane’s chin in his hand, and Shane was suddenly spellbound, completely unable to move, “I’ll do everything, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agreed at once, “Yeah.”
With the slightest lift of his mouth, James pulled away from him. Shane settled his hands in his lap, unsure of what to do with them, and eyes following him as he moved over to a panel by the door, tapping his fingers across it, so the lighting changed, dimmer than before, and soft music started playing out of speakers that seemed to be embedded in the walls.
Shane thought, dimly, that he might actually recognize the song. He was certain it was in Hayden’s gym playlist. Before he could think much more about this, however, James was back, standing in front of him with his boots gone, and the buttons of his shorts loosened, so that Shane could see an inch more of skin.
He reached out without thinking, his fingertips burning as he longed to touch him, but he moved back to the little stage, the metal pole in the middle the clear focal point, discarding his shirt as he went, so that Shane could see the freckles and moles that littered his back. His mouth watered as he stared at them, and he had to give his head a little shake.
He had never watched a striptease before. Truthfully, he had never been interested. It had always seemed put on to him, fake in a way that made the whole thing feel icky and unattractive.
But this?
Man, he could get behind this.
He moved in a way that told Shane he had done this hundreds of times before; exactly on beat, choreographed in a way to make Shane want more. And he did. He did want more, but he wanted him closer, not so far away.
He almost asked for it several times, even as his shorts slid down his legs and into a corner, and even as Shane’s breath was taken away by the smooth expanse of his back and his ass, barely covered by…underwear? He supposed that’s what they were. Even still, Shane still wanted more.
But he had given up control to him, and he liked not knowing what was coming next, of not having to decide or guess what the right answer was. So he let him dance, adjusting every so often to hide how hard he was becoming with every passing second, and taking in as much of James as he possibly could.
He thought that would be the end of it, but at the switch of a song, he dropped to his knees and crawled towards Shane, settling in between his thighs again. His cheek rested on his right knee, and Shane swallowed thickly, looking down into his eyes, just now noticing what a pretty blue they were.
“Since you don’t know,” his fingers skated up Shane’s left thigh, and he sucked in a breath at the feeling of it, “You’re not allowed to touch.”
He was going to have to sit on his fucking hands.
“But,” he continued, leaning up so he was almost in his lap and Shane felt teeth along the shell of his ear, “If you’re good, I make an exception.”
There was something warm spreading across his chest, something undefinable, something he couldn’t contain.
“Okay,” his voice was hoarse, “How will- I know if I’m- Good?”
“I will tell you,” he picked up Shane’s hand as he stood fluidly, and dragged it up his stomach and chest, until it was resting between his pectorals, “Okay?”
Shane nodded, again not entirely sure what he was agreeing to, but willing to allow him to do whatever he wanted if it meant he got to look at him for longer.
He dropped his hand the moment that James let go of it, and stared at him as he continued the dance, but this time on Shane.
The music played, burrowing its way into Shane’s veins, and the only real thing was this; their skin brushing, his heavy breathing in Shane’s ears, and Shane trying to hold on for dear life.
“Touch me,” his voice sounded almost strained, and Shane was driven crazy by the idea that he might want this as much as he did, “Shane.”
He shuddered involuntarily at the sound of his own name, thick and sweet inside his mouth. He brought his hands up, his palms skating along his ribs, and he threw his head back, grinding down against Shane’s hips, and he moaned loudly, unable to help himself.
“Like this,” he covered Shane’s hand in his own, dragging it down the planes of his chest, down his stomach, right to the top of the underwear, his fingers catching in the soft down of hair there, “Fuck.”
Shane wanted to kiss him. Badly. Maybe as badly as he had ever wanted anything. He arched up, trying to brush their lips together, but he held him back gently,
“None of that,” he said quietly, in a tone that was more chiding than unkind, “Or no touching.”
Shane whined, a sound ripped from deep within his chest, pathetic and wanting, and he grinned, patting him on the side of the face as he wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer, so their lips were only an inch or so apart.
“Aw, such a pretty noise.”
“Fuck,” Shane’s fingers were digging into his thighs, “Fuck- Let me-”
He broke off, but he wasn’t going to let him get away that easily,
“Let you what?” he crooned, biting the hinge of his jaw, and Shane was going to die, this was it for him, “Tell me.”
“Let me-” he had no idea what. He couldn’t pin down anything; his whole brain was just disjointed zapping thoughts from corner to corner. “I don’t-”
“You can’t come,” Ilya warned him, penetrating through his dizzy brain, “Not here.”
His head was swimming, but he wanted to do what he was told. He nodded blearily, trying to pull away, but James was shaking his head, grinning.
“I can get you right there, though, and you can think about me later.”
Shane didn’t say that he was probably going to be thinking about him for the rest of his life.
He nodded mutely, his hands settling on his hips again, allowing him to rock back and forth, dragging up and down Shane’s hard cock through his clothes. His eyes rolled back, but he fought to keep them forward, on the man above him.
His hands were moving of their own volition, all over his skin, and his lips tingled, almost burning with the desire to brush them across his collarbone, his cheek, his lips, the vein in his forehead, the blush across his chest.
Shane was going to come. He was going to come all over himself and all over this beautiful stranger and he couldn’t stop it he couldn’t-
“Stop,” he rasped, his fingernails digging into the muscle of his shoulder. He did, panting nearly as hard as Shane was, and his fingertips trailed across the bridge of Shane’s nose, like he was tracing something.
Then, as soon as the tender moment had begun, it was over, and he had stood up, leaving Shane cold and wanting.
“Good?” he arched an eyebrow at him, telling Shane that he knew exactly how good it was.
“I-” he blushed, looking away, “It- Yeah. Yeah it- It was.”
“Happy to be of service,” he gave an ironic bow, so ridiculous that it made Shane snort with laughter. He thought it was a little embarrassing, but James lit up at the noise.
Shane struggled to his feet, swaying slightly, his body still thrumming finely from being denied something it so desperately wanted.
“Well- It was- Nice to- Or um- Yeah. I should go.”
His eyes traveled down his face, like he wanted to commit him to memory.
Shane was being stupid again, of course he wasn’t trying to do anything like that.
“Bye Shane,” he held open the door for him, and Shane tried to flatten his hair back, and pull himself back from the abyss of pleasure he had just been falling down, “Nice to meet you.”
They stared at each other for a long, long time.
“Right,” he sounded so stupid, “Thank- Or. Yeah. Bye.”
He made to move past him, dragging what little dignity he still had behind him, but he caught his arm, and before Shane could react in any way, he was pulling him closer, and pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek.
His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and he smelled like mint and cigarette smoke.
“Come back anytime,” his voice was sinful, dipped in honey, and Shane shivered as they broke apart, feeling like he had just taken a heavy blow against the boards. He nodded mutely, and he smirked, closing the door in his face with another sharp snap, leaving Shane staring for an inordinate amount of time, before turning back and finding the others in the busy club.
“He returns!” JJ slapped his back, laughing uproariously as they forced him into a spot in the booth in the center of their table, “How was it, Captain?”
“Fuck you all,” he pasted a fake smile on his face, “Bullshit stuff.”
They all howled with laughter, pounding the table.
“You were gone a long time,” several people pointed out, “Mouth that good?”
“They let me trade, so she definitely did,” he lied easily, and the others wolf whistled, favorably impressed by the lie.
“Look at this, our captain has game after all,” JJ slurred, waving his hand in the air, apparently calling for another round, “But I’m an honest man, and no one will get a hand on me tonight.”
The group devolved into laughter and ribbing, leaving Shane free to stare around, looking for James.
He spotted him after a few minutes, back in his shirt and his fishnets and his boots, walking around the outer perimeter of the room. Several people, men and women, stopped him, and he bent low to speak to them, a wide smile on his face.
Shane watched him for the entire rest of the night, until Hayden and JJ started dragging people out of their booth at around three, telling everyone that if they were late getting to the venue the next day, JJ’s fiancé would have their heads.
Somewhat reluctantly, he made his way to the door, supporting Hayden, who could barely stand. He couldn’t help that he glanced around one last time as he made it to the door.
He was standing by the bar, leaning with his back against it, and he caught Shane’s eye, gazing at him appraisingly. Shane raised his hand in an awkward half wave, before dropping it almost immediately.
How stupid could he get?
He thought he saw him laughing as the door swung shut behind him.
It was difficult, getting so many people from the club and back to the hotel that they were all staying in. They had to split between four different cars, and Shane hopped in the last one, once he was sure that every single one of his charges had loaded up, and that no one was left behind.
Hayden always called it “mother henning,” Shane liked to call it “being prepared.”
He sat in the front seat with the driver, apologizing profusely as JJ and Hayden sang a loud and off key rendition of a pop song Shane didn’t recognize. The driver, to his credit, seemed to be used to the whole thing, and parked them safely in front of their hotel with a wave of his hand and a slightly amused smile as Hayden toppled face first onto the concrete.
“Jackie’s gonna kill me,” he said, staggering upright, “Did I break anything?”
“No,” Shane steered him inside after looking at his face seriously, checking for scratches, “You may want to be quiet so you don’t wake her up.”
“Can I crash with you?” he begged as they all crammed onto the elevator, “Please Shane, I’m begging you. She’ll get up at four to start doing her makeup and her hair straightener, dryer, thing- It’s so loud!”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed at the desperate expression on his face, “But you text her, I don’t want to get a bunch of questions in the morning about where you are.”
“Oh man, I love you,” Hayden leaned forward, pressing a messy kiss to Shane’s cheek that reeked of rum, “You’re the best.”
“Don’t I know it,” he led them back down the hall towards their rooms, inwardly thankful that they were all in a block, so he could make sure everyone got where they needed to go, “JJ? Meet downstairs at nine?”
“God,” JJ moaned, pressing his forehead against the door of his hotel room, “I am going to die.”
“No you’re not,” Shane said bracingly, still half carrying Hayden, “You’re going to get married.”
“Yeah!” Hayden slurred unhelpfully, but it seemed to punch JJ into enough action that he swiped his card, and practically fell over the threshold.
“Good enough,” Shane said to himself, struggling with his own room key and overtly thankful that he had booked a room with two beds. He set Hayden on the one closest to the bathroom, before turning to him, taking in his appearance. He still looked pretty good, not like he was going to throw up at any second.
Shane needed to take the opportunity while he had it.
“I’m going to jump in the shower,” he told him, swiping the neatly folded pair of boxers he had laid out before he left, “Don’t throw up in that trash can.”
“I won’t,” he said, flopping back onto the bed, “Thanks buddy.”
Huffing a resigned sigh, Shane stepped into the small hotel bathroom, thankful for the moment of solitude. He turned on the shower, and took stock of himself and the evening.
He thought about James. His plush lips, his blue eyes, his hard cock grinding against Shane’s…
He stifled a broken moan in his hands, and stripped for the shower, determined not to touch himself until he was sure that Hayden wasn’t going to come bursting in.
He stepped under the hot water, allowing the pressure to relax his tense shoulders. He forced himself to do his usual shower routine, and it wasn’t until his conditioner had sat for the appropriate length of time, and was swirling down the drain at his feet that allowed his mind to wander back to the club, as his hand wandered to his cock.
It took nothing to bring himself back to that place, just some feather light touches and thoughts of that little room and an accent he couldn’t name filling his ears.
His lips still tingled, as though they had actually recently been kissed.
“Fuck,” his mind was full of his heavy hands and the words he had said to Shane,
And you can think about me later.
Shane was, he was jerking his cock to the idea of a stranger, a stranger in a strip club.
A stripper in a strip club.
But the shame in his stomach didn’t stop him from chasing his orgasm, imagining pretty eyes and his name on his tongue.
“Fuck,” he murmured, the rubber band about to snap back. He was right there, right there, right there just-
A frantic knocking made his head swing around,
“Shane, dude, I need you to hurry up, I think I’m gonna-”
Not wanting to have to pay the hefty cleaning fee he would be slapped with if Hayden threw up in his hotel room, he jumped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist, and pulling open the door to let him in.
Fortunately, Hayden was too intent on diving straight for the toilet to notice the tent in Shane’s towel, and the redness on his chest that had nothing to do with the hot water of the shower.
Shane went to bed five minutes later, rolling over to try and drown out the retching noises still coming from the bathroom, and feeling thoroughly, achingly pent up.
__________
JJ’s wedding took place at a very nice country club just outside of Montreal.
It was a beautiful day, not too hot for the height of summer, and the flower beds bloomed all around the venue, a riotously organized mass of color.
They arrived only half an hour late, which was probably some kind of miracle, considering Shane had to consider dumping cold water on Hayden’s face to try and rouse him in the morning.
“I’m going to die,” he said, shoving a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and groaning theatrically as Shane opened the curtains, so that thick beans of sunlight hit him in the face.
“You can’t until the wedding’s over,” he deadpanned, “Or Catherine will kill us all.”
JJ and the others were in similar states of distress, but they all managed to get on the bus arranged for them, and were safely closeted in their own wing of the venue by ten o’clock.
“How are you so…not dead?” Hayden asked, tipping his face down to look at Shane behind his sunglasses, “Everyone else I’ve talked to barely woke up this morning.”
Shane shrugged.
“Just didn’t drink as much as you did. My benefit.”
“Fuck,” Mitty buried his face in his arms, “Don’t mention alcohol. Please. Don’t mention it.”
Everyone seemed to improve as the morning wore on, so that JJ even looked somewhat presentable when he was whisked off for solo pictures.
Shane dressed in his suit, a light blue flower pinned to his chest, his shoes shined so that they nearly glowed. He got the nod of approval from the wedding planner, and resolved to help the others tie their ties, most of them still too clumsy to manage it.
“You’re the best, Captain,” Mitty said, letting his head roll back, “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Not win any Cups, that’s for sure,” Shane deadpanned, and the whole room laughed.
It was midafternoon by the time they were all expected to be ready, and Shane followed a still somewhat hungover Hayden down to the ceremony site, trailing a little behind the others, straightening his tie as he went.
The photographer was very nice, and only had them take photos for about twenty minutes before sending them back to the entrance of the venue, with strict orders not to come back out until, in her words “show time.”
The others broke into lazy chatter, and Shane stared out across the lush expanse of trees, watching as a few guests began to trickle in, taking their seats in the sunshine.
JJ sidled up to him as the sound of voices and laughter and music got louder and louder. He looked more put together than Shane had ever seen him, and the dark suit complemented by the light blue of his tie suited him well. He was working up to something, and Shane knew him well enough now to know what he needed, and why he was standing away from the others, by Shane,
“You nervous?” he asked him quietly, and JJ straightened up, even as his fingers tapped together, hands clasped in front of him as though in prayer.
“No,” he tried for his usual bravado, but Shane could see right through him, “Yes.”
He laughed, patting him lightly on the shoulder.
“You shouldn’t be, it’s going to be great.”
“I just want to make sure it all goes right, for her you know?”
JJ was rarely this vulnerable, and Shane knew he was one of the lucky few to ever get past the loud, brash, joking personality the entire Metros locker room knew. He smiled, moving to grip his shoulder instead of pat it, hopefully a grounding sensation for him.
“I think she just wants to marry you. She wants everything to go well, but marrying you is the priority.”
“I feel like I am going to forget my lines.”
Shane laughed.
“You mean your vows?”
“They’re basically lines. Lines about how much I love her that I have to say in front of everyone I know.”
“I can’t help you there, man. I’d be panicking about that too.”
JJ laughed in his own turn, surprised by Shane’s honesty. Before either of them could say another word, the wedding planner was hurrying towards them, looking harried, and motioning for all of them to get into their places. Shane squeezed his shoulder one last time, before hurrying off to his designated spot in line.
He was walking down the aisle with Catherine’s best friend from college, Audrey. She was very nice, with long dark hair and bright green eyes. The best part about her though, was she didn’t push for small talk that Shane didn’t really know how to give.
She smiled at him as he approached, her dusty blue dress brushing the floor, and they stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for their cue to move slowly down the aisle.
Audrey looped her arm with Shane’s and they walked slowly towards JJ, whose foot was tapping rapidly on the ground. He tried to shoot him a reassuring smile, but he didn’t think he saw it; he was too focused on the doorway, where Catherine would be appearing any minute.
When she finally did, dressed in white and on her father’s arm, Shane saw JJ physically relax, like all his nerves had left him, maybe in the tears sliding down his face.
Shane was a sucker for weddings, but only cried a little during the ceremony. Well, okay, a lot, but it wasn’t even that bad, considering that Catherine’s sister was passing Kleenex down the line of bridesmaids the moment that the couple had grasped hands in front of the officiant.
He let his mind wander as the familiar words of sickness, health, better, worse, richer, poorer, washed over him.
He had never thought much about getting married, even before he realized he was gay. Maybe fleetingly, usually when he was the only single person in a hangout full of couples, he thought it would be nice to have someone to be with, have someone to come home to after games. But he had never been in love, and as he moved from the other side of his twenties to his thirties; the whole thing seemed increasingly unlikely.
Most especially because he couldn’t really come out. Not while he was playing, anyway.
It was fine, but the ache in his chest was a little more present when he went to a wedding, especially when he was about three feet from the couple getting married, and especially when they looked like the happiest two people in the world as they stared into each other’s eyes.
Shane clapped along with everyone else when they kissed, and watched as they ran back up the aisle, hand in hand, leading the way to a patio connected to the main dining room hung with crisscrossing strands of lights.
The wedding party hung back as the guests disappeared, waiting for JJ and Catherine to come back so they could take their group pictures.
“Aw Hollander,” Mitty looped an arm around his shoulder, grinning widely, “You old softy.”
“Shane cries at every wedding,” Hayden stood on his other side, a matching smile on his face, “You should have seen him last year at Morgan’s.”
“Shut up,” he tried to scoot away from them, only to be called to order by the photographer immediately, chivvying them into position, with JJ and Catherine at the front.
Finally, at last, the photos were finished, and Shane followed the others back up towards the cocktail hour, already in full swing. He swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter that he had no plans to drink, and stuffed himself into a corner, hoping for a few minutes of peace before dinner.
He watched the crowd sinewing around, most of them focused on the bride and groom, but others were greeting each other with bear hugs and back slaps, separated by team or by retirement.
“Shane!” he looked around at the sound of his name, and smiled as he recognized one of the Metros’ social media managers, Sarah. She was sweet, even though she was always trying to get Shane to be in videos where he had no idea what he was supposed to say or do at any given moment. He waved to her, and she made her way through the crowd, pulling someone with her by the hand and-
Shane felt the smile sliding off his face, the air leaving his lungs. The man that Sarah was leading right towards him, dressed in an immaculately well-fitting black suit, his hair slicked back, was the very same man that had brought Shane to the brink of an orgasm in a private room of a strip club the night before.
His eyes passed over Shane as he and Sarah approached, as though Shane were nothing more than a mediocre oil painting on the wall.
“Shane, I’m so glad I found you, everyone else is already so drunk.”
“Yeah well,” he tried not to stare at the man next to her, smiling as she gave him a one-armed hug, “Someone has to wrangle everyone back to the hotel.”
“This is my friend, Ilya,” she gestured towards him, and Shane drew up short. Ilya? “And Ilya, this is Shane, he’s the captain of the team I work for.”
Ilya inclined his head, sipping his champagne even as his eyes trailed down Shane’s body. Shane nodded back, not sure what to do with himself.
“The ceremony was beautiful wasn’t it?” Sarah didn’t seem to notice the tension between the two of them, and settled next to Shane, taking in the crowd, “I’d love to get married here, but it would probably cost like ten million dollars, especially in the summer.”
“Probably so,” he wished he had something more interesting to say, even as his eyes kept wandering back to Ilya. He looked so good, like a model or something out of a magazine. Something unattainable in real life, instead of standing right in front of him. He was clearly bored, tapping the rim of his champagne flute with his fingers, like he was listening to a song inside his head.
“Who’s your plus one, Shane?” Sarah asked brightly, and he blinked, feeling a little punch drunk.
“Oh, it’s just me,” he saw Ilya turning his head in their direction out of the corner of his eye, “Since I’m in the wedding party, it was easier if-”
“Oh I get it, I was in my best friend’s wedding last year and I felt like I barely had time to eat, there’s so much to do.”
“Right.”
“Ilya, you were at Chelsea’s wedding, right?”
Ilya’s head turned slowly towards her, a lazy grin spreading across his face, which somehow made him even better looking.
“Yep, I barely saw you.”
“See!” she laughed, before she seemed to see someone else that she knew, “Oh, one sec, I’ll be right back.”
She hurried away, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Shane alone with the handsome stranger that, he realized, he actually didn’t know the first thing about.
“I thought your name was James?” Shane asked, as soon as he was sure there was no one near him.
Ilya smirked, cocky and arrogant and indifferent. It pissed Shane off how good it made him look.
“You think I give my real name to anyone that comes in for a private dance?” he asked, and Shane flushed, embarrassed by how naïve he seemed. He scuffed his shoe against the large, flat paving stone underneath his feet, and did not meet his eyes.
“I didn’t-”
“Is okay, your first time,” he sounded almost patronizing, even as he shifted infinitesimally closer to him.
“Fuck you,” he said, feeling itchy, like there was something under his skin, and Ilya grinned, sharp enough to cut glass, “What are you even doing here, anyway?”
His eyebrows shot up, and he gave him a searching kind of look.
“I was invited, same as you were. Sarah is my friend.”
A thought had occurred to Shane, one that made him slightly sick to his stomach.
“Do you know anyone- Anyone else on the team?” he asked, trying not to betray the panic that was rising in his chest.
If Ilya knew someone on the team, that meant that he could have been in on the joke the night before, and that he was just waiting for the right time to tell the team that not only was Shane gay, but that he had actually gotten a lap dance from a male stripper the night before.
And that he had thoroughly enjoyed it.
Ilya however, cocked his head to the side, like the question confused him.
“No. Only Sarah.”
Shane nearly sighed in relief, leaning back against the wall behind him.
“Okay. That’s- Good.”
Something like a smile was curling Ilya’s mouth, and he was studying Shane, taking him in slowly, inch by inch.
“What?” he asked, his mouth going a little dry at the intensity of his gaze. Ilya said nothing for a long moment, but then he leaned closer, cutting the distance between them to nothing,
“Did you come last night?” he asked, voice quieter than before. Shane’s head swiveled around. There was no one around them for ten feet in any direction.
“I don’t see how that’s-”
“I am going to guess no.”
“You can guess whatever you want,” he snapped, making to turn away, but the feeling of Ilya’s fingers trailing down his arm made him stop, his heart stuttering in his chest.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice still quiet, but with an edge to it, and Shane stared at him with wide eyes, desire pooling traitorously in his stomach as he watched him, “Too drunk to finish the job?”
They both knew it was a lie. Shane hadn’t been drunk when he left, and he knew that.
“No,” he made no move to get away, and liked the feeling of Ilya invading his space, their champagne flutes dangling, long forgotten, in their hands, “My friend Hayden stayed in my room. He needed the bathroom.”
“And you wouldn’t do it in bed? Touch yourself?” Shane’s breath hitched.
“No,” he hissed, trying to sound scandalized, but he sounded more desperate than anything. His eyes were stuck on his throat, on the Adam’s apple that bobbed as he swallowed, on the freckles that dotted the skin there, at the fine gold chain that disappeared down his black dress shirt.
“Why?” his voice was maddeningly steady as Shane fought for breath, “Too uptight?”
“I’m not uptight,” he managed to say, and Ilya chuckled, his fingers trailing down his side now, and Shane should move away, bring back the distance. There were people around, people he knew, people that would talk if they saw him like this. But he didn’t care. His brain was nothing but white noise and the sound of Ilya’s voice in his ears.
“Yes you are,” his accent dragged across his skin, “But that is not all you are, I saw the more than that last night.”
Shane swallowed with an audible click, staring at his mouth, feeling his own fall open slightly.
He wanted-
“There you are!” Hayden appeared out of nowhere, already tipsy and paying no attention to Ilya, who had moved away from Shane smoothly and was leaning against the wall, pulling a lighter out of his pocket, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Jackie’s been asking about you.”
“Right,” Shane let out a breath, “Course. Following you.”
He glanced back at Ilya as he moved away; he raised his eyebrows at him, that smirk playing around his mouth again, and Shane flushed, and tried to adjust himself so that it didn’t look like he was achingly hard under his suit pants.
Shane was swept into the large, lavishly decorated ballroom, where most of the wedding guests were already congregated at their respective tables.
“We’re here, you’re next to me and Jackie,” Hayden said, a hand on his shoulder, and he nodded along, determinedly not looking over his shoulder to see if Ilya had followed them inside.
There was a little card with his name neatly embossed on the front of it in curly black lettering, and he took his seat in the spindly chair, his back to the entrance out to the terrace.
“Hi Shane,” Jackie reached out, squeezing his hand in hers, and he returned her smile, “Thank you for making sure this one made it here in one piece.”
“It was a close one,” he laughed as Hayden scowled at him, rubbing his forehead, “I can’t believe you’re drinking right now.”
“Little hair of the dog,” Hayden raised his glass of champagne, toasting Shane and Jackie.
“It’s six pm.”
Jackie snorted with laughter.
“Did you have a good time last night?” she asked him as everyone settled down to the first course, brought out to them by a fleet of white gloved waiters.
“Oh yeah, mostly because I didn’t get as drunk as everyone else,” he smiled, looking down at the clear soup that had been dropped in front of him, “But it was fun.”
“I heard you went to a strip club,” she sipped her own soup with good grace, even as Shane stared incredulously at Hayden.
“You really do tell each other everything.”
“Ah, you’ll get it one day,” Hayden spoke as if he was fifty years older than Shane, “When you’re married and everything.”
“Sure,” he rolled his eyes, even as his insides had gone cold.
The temptation to tell Hayden, tell all of his friends and his team who he was; it was growing stronger by the day. Sometimes, he thought that no one would mind, that they would laugh it off and love him as much as they always had. It’s not like he was a different person; he still loved hockey and the team and wanted to win as many Cups as possible.
But then, there would be an off-color joke, made in the locker room or out at dinner, and Shane would retract the words that were sitting on his tongue.
It was easier, he told himself, they didn’t need to know because it wasn’t their business. His parents knew, and so did Rose, and who else needed to know, really?
But at the same time, it hurt to withhold that part of himself with the people he spent the most time with.
He tried to shake himself out of his mood as dinner wore on, but that came with the price of his eyes wandering around the room, looking for broad shoulders in a black suit. He caught sight of Ilya at the other end of one of the long tables, apart from the wedding party, sitting with Sarah, his head inclined towards her over his glass, his face serious as he listened to her talk.
Shane watched him out of the corner of his eye through the courses, the chatter of those around him and the clinking of cutlery becoming a sort of dull roar in his ears.
He really should pull himself together, he thought as he missed his mouth with his fork for the third time; he didn’t even know this man, there was no reason for him to be this…whatever he was about it.
But then, he had never felt anything quite like this before. The tightness in his chest, the heat there; it was unfamiliar, addicting, something that he wanted more of.
They hadn’t even kissed, but Shane felt his proximity like a magnet being drawn towards its partner, and he couldn’t explain it, couldn’t explain why, couldn’t put it into words.
“Shane!” he jumped slightly at the sound of his name, and looked around at Hayden, who was staring at him with his eyebrows raised, “Jesus man, where the fuck did you just go?”
“What?” he hoped the light was too low for Hayden to see the blush creeping up his neck.
“I was trying to talk to you for like ten minutes,” Hayden appeared a little like a puppy that had been left out in the cold for too long, “Did you hear anything I said?”
“I-” there was no point in lying, “Uh, no man, sorry. Say again?”
“I was asking you if-” just as Hayden was speaking, Catherine’s sister stood up from the table, tapping a knife against her wine glass, and bringing the whole room to order.
“Before we cut the cake and start dancing,” she grinned at the bride and groom, “I think there are a few people that would like to say a few words.”
Shane was inwardly extremely thankful that he wasn’t being asked to make a speech in front of a room of three hundred people, but applauded loudly as Hayden bounded up to take the mic, ever the extrovert.
“I just wanted to say, JJ came to the Montreal Metros a broken man,” he started, his wide smile reflecting JJ’s, “Never made the playoffs, aging rapidly, maybe already a has-been-”
The team laughed uproariously at this, Shane included, and Hayden pressed on, spurred on by the favorable reaction to his words,
“And then one day, everything changed. JJ comes in, looking like he’s been possessed by the spirit of a great player. And now he’s almost as important to the team as I am! What inspired this incredible change? Well, I think most of you can probably guess. Considering his better half is sitting right there.”
He gestured towards Catherine, who was beaming at him.
“So congratulations to JJ and Catherine, and thank you, Cat for making him a better player, but more importantly, a better man.”
He raised his glass, and the entire room followed suit, before breaking into deafening applause.
“Beautifully done,” Jackie kissed him on the cheek as Hayden sat back down, and he grinned at her and Shane, who was blinking rapidly.
“Got what I wanted,” he pointed at Shane, “If I can make Hollander cry, it’s a good speech.”
“I’m not crying!” he said at once, averting his eyes from them both, “Good job or whatever.”
Hayden and Jackie laughed.
After the speeches, the dinner broke into a party, with people sweeping onto the dance floor after the first dances, and the DJ in the corner started a song with a heavy beat that everyone could move to.
Hayden pulled Jackie towards the floor at once, leaving Shane alone, nursing a long flat ginger ale, and watching the dancers as though he were a species apart from them.
He wanted, more than anything he longed for that. That intimacy of a dance, bodies pressed together in a long line, swaying slowly to the music, not caring who else was in the room.
It was a feeling that always made its appearance at events like this, a sort of loneliness that settled in his chest, past his bones and into his heart, leaving him cold and distant from the others; cursed to watch but never join in.
He stood, deciding to get out of his own head, and walked back out onto the patio, where the hanging lights gave a soft, warm glow across the sprawling lawn below him. He leaned against the railing, his eyes trailing across the grass, watching a few couples walking in the moonlight, away from the wedding.
“Fuck,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He really wanted to go home, or even back to his hotel room. Maybe put on some mindless tv or call his parents, even though he knew they were probably already getting ready for bed. Hearing their voices would make him feel a little less lonely, even for a moment.
“All alone out here?” he turned at the sound of his voice, straightening up at once.
Ilya was moving towards him, his champagne flute replaced by a whiskey glass filled with ice and a clear liquid. He had undone several of the buttons on his dress shirt, so that Shane could see a cross dangling between his pectorals. He pressed his lips together, locking eyes with him instead.
“Yeah just-” he gestured awkwardly towards the party, “A little much.”
“All weddings are, yes?”
“I don’t- Yeah. Yeah, they pretty much are.”
Ilya laughed, a pretty sound that made the corners of Shane’s mouth lift up involuntarily.
“They are a good couple?” he asked after a beat. Shane’s eyes flicked towards him again, and the soft warm light made him painfully beautiful, not that he wasn’t already before.
“Uh yeah,” he said, his brain scrambling, “Yeah, they’re great. JJ’s never been happier.”
“Are you married?” the question caught him off guard. Ilya was not looking at him, but was staring straight ahead.
“Uh- No. No. It’s just- Just me.”
“Just you?” he repeated, turning his head towards him. Their eyes met again, and Shane’s heart skipped, like he had missed a step going downstairs.
“Yeah. Yeah just- Just me.”
Ilya studied him for a long moment, his head listing to the side, and Shane was exposed, like a wound in the open air, pulsing with something that he couldn’t name.
“Are you still hard?” his quiet voice may as well have been a gunshot in Shane’s ears. Shane’s head swiveled around again, but they were completely alone on the terrace.
“No,” he lied, gritting his teeth at the expression on Ilya’s face. He may be hot, but he was kind of an asshole.
A really, really, really hot one.
“Liar,” that smirk was back, and Shane should turn around and walk back to the party, far, far away from him. But he was glued to the spot, rooted there by the feeling that he was giving him.
“Fuck off,” there was no heat behind his words, but he felt the color rising up his neck all the same.
They fell into silence again, and Shane couldn’t figure out if he wanted this to end or continue on forever.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, turning so that his back was against the railing, facing towards the party.
“Do about what?”
He gestured wordlessly towards Shane’s pants, the obvious bulge there, and he shifted his body unconsciously, trying to hide it.
“Can you fuck off?” he asked, angrier this time. Who the fuck was this guy to show up here and corner Shane and make him feel like this and tease him about it? “I didn’t ask you to come over here.”
Ilya grinned at him, slow and pretty.
“Okay,” he said, pushing off the railing and making to walk back inside, “Good night.”
Shane couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t stand it.
Without thinking, purely on reflex, he reached out, seizing his forearm. Ilya turned, watching him in an expectant sort of way.
Shane’s lips were tingling, but he had no idea what to do next, or how to go about doing it.
And once again, just like the night before, Ilya took pity on him. He closed the gap between them, and grasped Shane’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, just as he had the night before, tilting his face up so that their lips were only an inch or so apart.
“You need it bad, huh?” he asked, condescending, and Shane shuddered, his breath catching in his chest.
“I don’t-”
Ilya leaned down, brushing his lips along his jaw, and Shane moaned quietly, caught in his mouth, half stifled and desperate.
“Yes you do.”
There was something clawing its way through Shane’s chest, up his throat, half pain half something else, and he was pushing against Ilya’s strong hand, trying to force himself closer. But Ilya held him back, eyes glittering in the low light, apparently enjoying this as much as Shane was.
“No no,” he tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”
But Shane was greedy, greedy for something he had never had before, greedy for the simmering throughout his body, and greedy for Ilya, for his mouth, for his eyes.
Ilya’s mouth was so close to his, so close to brushing his lips that Shane’s head was dizzy with it.
Suddenly, without any warning, Shane’s brain clicked back into place.
He was at a wedding. At JJ’s wedding. Everyone that he knew was here, his whole team, his coaches, the team owner. Everyone was a few feet away.
He drew back, and had the confusing sensation of raw disappointment when Ilya let him go easily, and he stood away from him, panting for breath again.
“I can’t,” he sounded wrecked, “I can’t- Not here.”
Ilya nodded once, picking up his glass and turning smoothly back towards the wedding.
“Good night, Shane,” he said, and melted back into the crowd before Shane could say another word, or even think about calling him back.