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When Marleau tells him about the party, Ilya's not at all surprised. He threw famed projects that people talked about for weeks after, girls, drugs, and booze.
The typical people were attending. Delta Phi's members of course, their girlfriends and fuck buddies, sorority girls and random freshmen who were angling to get their dick wet for the first time. The Bulldogs, Yale's hockey team were mostly made up of Theta Pi with the exception of JJ, Marleau and Troy so the other frat were at least tolerated at parties.
Ilya busies himself with sorting through the makeshift bar in the kitchen, letting Svetlana sweep him up in conversation. She hung around mostly because her and Ilya had a bit of a thing but she was also really fucking smart and incredibly beautiful with light brown curls and alluring eyes. She has a tattoo on her upper thigh that says siren in dramatic letters. It was fitting, really. Men and women alike wanted her.
Ilya was just the lucky bastard that got her attention. Svetlana shoves a beer at him and kisses him, she tastes like mint and something alcoholic. "Very happy tonight." Ilya murmurs, dragging her closer. Connors is still in the corner, nursing a solo cup of dubious origin and staring at her longingly.
"Indeed. I let Rose buy me some shots to pregame beforehand." She giggles and sinks into him, a perfect fit against his ribs. "A little birdie told me that Hollander was coming." She nudges at him, shit eating grin fixed on her lips.
Fucking Hollander.
The mention of their hockey captain makes him groan. Hollander was younger than him by a year and Ilya was one of the youngest on the team. Yet, Hollander was captain and not terrible at it either. He was however, a stick in the mud. No parties, no drinking. Hell, Hollander was probably a blushing virgin, all of his time taken up by hockey. "Ugh, how do you know?"
Svetlana steals his beer to wrap her pretty lips around the opening. When she draws it away, Ilya feels like he's on fire. " Rose is coming tonight, said she's bringing Shane." Her eyes glint curiously.
She was the only one who knew about he and Hollander's little thing. Once, when they were sixteen and seventeen respectively, they had gotten a little too tipsy at some junior hockey event and had made out until Hollander had accidentally came in his briefs.
Well, she knew they made out once. Only Ilya was privy to the other part. (Yes, he did frequently jerk off with the image of Hollander with his eyes rolled back as he came. What about it?)
The kitchen is steadily trickling in more people, all laughing and nudging each other. Svetlana kisses him again, steals another sip of his beer and flounces off to go talk to one of her sorority friends.
He should go find Marlow or someone and pretend like the idea of Hollander didn't made him nervous. Playing pretend is what he did best after all.
Yet, his feet stayed rooted to the ground.
It's not until he sees Rose Landry grabbing for a cup on the counter that he moves.
"Hello."
Rose jerks up in surprise, almost sloshing whatever she poured. "Oh shit! Sorry! Rozanov right?" She points at him with a grin. It's not as practiced as Svetlana's but she's just as beautiful in a very American girl- next-door way, all brunette waves and big eyes.
Ilya winks at her which makes her flush, "Technically yes but you can always call me Ilya. You are Rose Landry yes?"
She doesn't seem to mind the attention, head tipping back to look him in the eye, "You can call me Rose."
"Rose." He tries the name out and likes how it sits on his tongue. "Pretty flower for pretty girl. So, I hear you and Svetlana are friends."
Rose gives him an appreciative one over which Ilya returns. She's dressed in a cute sweater crop top and tiny shorts with daisies on the hem. "Yeah, we have some classes together. You're a Bulldog, right? With Shane?"
"Unfortunately," Ilya drawls. "He is good captain yes but...wet blanket. No hard feelings." He shrugs.
" Ah, I see the rivalry is alive and well," she jokes. "Well as fun as this has been, I have to go find my little wet blanket."
Ilya stands straight, "I'll help. I'm tall, I can see better." He reasons definitely not because he wanted to annoy the guy. Rose gives him a look but doesn't say anything else.
Almost immediately, he spots Hollander in the crowd. He's leaned up against the wall chatting with Pike. Ilya's brain almost doesn't recognize him with the backwards baseball cap and the Bears jersey hanging off of him. "I see him Ms. Landry, come on."
She snorts but follows him anyway.
"Hollander." Ilya barks, making the captain jump.
The look is exactly what he expected, pinched brows and pink lips bowed into a pout. "What the fuck Rozanov?"
Ilya saunters up to him, pressing a bit too close to his space. " I was dropping off your pretty friend here." Hollander's eyes flit to Rose and back.
"That's nice. Go away." He deadpans, reaching a hand out for Rose who takes it ambivalently.
Ilya decides in the moment that this was much more fun than leaving them alone. "Actually, I wanted to congratulate you."
Hollander sends him a dead look, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. " On what exactly?"
"Well with Ms. Rose here, maybe you'll finally learn to unwind a bit." Ilya curls his own lips into a perfect sneer.
Pike rolls his eyes next to him but Ilya doesn't bother to look. " Gonna go get us some drinks. Rose, you wanna come?"
Rose nodded eagerly and off they went.
"What the fuck do you mean unwind a bit?" Hollander hisses, there's pink steadily climbing up his neck.
Ilya shrugs and moves a bit closer. It's maybe half a step but in his desperation to get away, Hollander inadvertently slams himself against the wall behind him. "Oh you know. Take home a girl, get to second base."
The tease works and Ilya's delighted to see the smattering of freckles pop as he gets angrier. " She's my friend you weirdo. I know you don't have a lot of those but men and women can be close and not want to fuck each other."
That stings a little but Ilya brushes it off.
"And it's third base."
" What?" Ilya asks as Hollander looks embarrassed.
"You said second. Second is getting grabby with each other. Third is sex." It comes out as a whisper as Hollander shrinks into the plaster behind him harder like he could phase through it if he tried hard enough.
Ilya hums, " What base is it to cum in your pants while kissing? No hands involved." He wonders out loud.
Hollander goes from pink to red very, very quickly. "Fuck you. Jesus, I never should have agreed to do this." If looks could kill, Ilya would be on fire and in a million pieces.
At that moment, before Hollander could decide to make his theoretical death a reality, Pike arrives with three shots and a beer. Rose is not with him. "Here." He gives a shot to Hollander who takes it with some hesitation. "And will you fuck all the way off please?"
He bows and goes to find Svetlana.
As expected, she's surrounded by his frat brothers and some girls, all endeared by her to a varying degree. She's regaling him with some story that's effortlessly funny and just as fake. They eat it up though, they always did with her.
Svetlana looks up and catches his eye, waving.
He waves back.
Ilya is sufficiently drunk, three beers and something called jungle juice that was as good as it was concerning. What was in it? Who the hell knows.
He kisses Marlow on the cheek and challenges Luka to a game of pool that he quickly wipes the rookie in. He even makes out with Svetlana, sliding his hand up her upper thigh and under the skirt but the buzz is still there.
Restlessness.
It doesn't go away or quiet when he cups her ass and feels the thong.
It doesn't leave when she bounces off to go hangout with Rose, leaving him half hard. This time, he's not sure it's from her.
The music is loud and pounding, shaking his teeth and deafening him. It's too much but not enough. Hollander is nowhere to be found either, Pike is laughing too loudly with some girl that he vaguely recognized from one of the sororities. Jackie or something.
"Gonna go get some fresh air." He shouts at Marlow who waves him off.
The frat house was fucking massive, three stories and too many rooms, so he heads up to the third floor.
His favorite room was one used sparingly as a guest room. It was far enough that the speakers on the second floor were nothing but a distant thrum. It has a balcony that's concealed by the wide arms of the oak trees. During parties or get togethers when everything proves to be too annoying or loud, this is where he camped out. An oasis.
The balcony this time, is occupied. He can make out the curve of a body behind the curtains that cover the door.
Hmm.
He wanders outside, yanking out the pack of Camels from his jeans and a lighter.
The door opening makes the figure lurch in surprise where they're pressed up against the wall in a sitting position.
It's Hollander.
Ilya's palms itch, "What are you doing out here?"
Hollander glances up, there's a bottle of Malibu in his lap. "Sitting." As if it wasn't obvious. Truly a wonder that he became captain despite having the charisma of a brick wall.
Ilya rolls his eyes and wanders to the railing. He can see more buildings in the distance and the glow from below invade the trees, lighting up the porch in a faint neon. "I meant what are you doing up here when you can be drinking with your friends."
"I- it's too much sometimes. I didn't even want to come, Rose convinced me because she said it would be fun." Hollander tells him befor taking another swig of Malibu and grimacing.
Ilya nods at the bottle, "Thought you didn't drink?"
A sloppy shrug. "It calms down the noise. Makes me feel more- uh, normal. Which sounds pathetic but-"
He cuts Hollander off, "Not pathetic. I understand."
"What about you?" Hollander asks, getting up from his spot to join Ilya at the railing. He's definitely drunk, possibly more drunk than Ilya but not by much. His cheeks are thoroughly flushed and his eyes are hazy but he's not slurring.
" What about me Hollander?" Ilya fishes a cigarette and sticks it in between his teeth.
He watches Hollander's little brain work as he lights it and takes a drag. It's a nasty habit but one that he wasn't able to kick. It reminded him of his mother and the smell of her hair. Smoke. Always smoke and something flowery.
" Why are you up here smoking? When you have all of your brothers down there." Hollander's eyes are fixed on the cancer stick Ilya's puffing away on. Real smooth golden boy, Ilya thinks.
"Same reason as you. Loud." Ilya lets the smoke curl out of his nose while he talks. "Want?" He offers the cigarette to Hollander, expecting him to wrinkle his nose and lecture him on the different types of lung cancer.
He doesn't do all that but he does stare at the thing, "Um...bad habit."
Ilya laughs then, "You're sitting up here alone, drinking fucking Malibu like a teenage girl. My bad habits?" He takes another drag and watches Hollander eye his throat hazily. "You do not indulge?"
Hollander blinks up at his face, mouth set in a line that reminded Ilya of him winning face offs. "I indulge plenty. I know you and everybody else thinks I'm some pent up virgin."
Snorting, Ilya nudges him. "They're telling you that to your face?"
That earns him a scowl like an angry kitten. "Fuck off."
"My frat house."
"I was up here first." Hollander almost sends his hat tumbling off his head. "See what you did?"
Something like fondness bites at Ilya. " Ah yes, I did that. Not you being drunk and moving your head like a horse."
Hollander's eyebrows shoot up, "Like a horse?"
"Horse with a fly." Ilya gestures wildly. "You know."
"Right, right. Horse with a fly. A plus simile." Hollander gives him a wry smile.
" Fuck you and your stupid English." Ilya retorts. "Made up language."
A quiet laugh flutters from the other man, it's loose and sweet. Definitely a product of the drinking. "Every language is made up." Then he plucks the cigarette from Ilya's mouth and takes a slow drag.
It's Ilya's turn to stare at him. He smokes it with an ease that really shouldn't be as hot as it was. Suddenly, Ilya is hyper aware of his half erection that has not flagged. "Nice jersey." He says and hopes his voice doesn't waver.
Hollander wrangles the stick out of his mouth, pinching it between his fingers. He turns and blows the smoke directly in Ilya's face. Presumably to be a cunt. "Thanks. A bit too big but I didn't have anything else I was comfortable with spilling things on."
"I'm drafted to the Bears you know." Ilya mentions casually. "The color looks good on you."
Hollander blinks owlishly up at him. God, he was short as hell. Well, Ilya was tall enough that most were short compared to him. "Really?"
Ilya gently grabs the cigarette back from him and stubs it out, flicking the ash over the railing. "Really. Didn't know you were such a fan."
Just like inside, he crowds closer to him. Poor little Hollander is trying to be brave and doesn't move, throat working desperately. "I'm not. Just bought it, you know."
" Oh I know." Ilya bares his teeth at him. " You smoke a lot Hollander?"
His cheeks go even more red as Ilya worms a thigh in-between his. " Uh, N-no."
"Just showing off then? I'm impressed." Ilya flicks the butt on the balcony. He makes a mental note to pick it up later. "Very cute."
The 'cute' comment gets an irritated nose scrunch, "Fuck off."
"Will you wear my jersey when I join?" He taunts. " My name on the back."
Hollander's chest is moving hard, pupils blown. He's hard against Ilya's thigh and he whines when Ilya presses closer. "Fuck-"
Ilya closes the gap completely, kissing him. It's earnest but slow, he licks into Hollander's mouth, the taste of cheap liquor hangs to his teeth.
Hollander sags into him, hooking a hand into Ilya's waistband and yanking him flush.
When they split, a string of saliva connects them. "What do you want Hollander?" Ilya whispers. This is fragile and he doesn't want to break it but the buzz under his skin is now an incessant heat. The thump of bass below him pounds in time with his heartbeat.
"You." Hollander whispers back, darting back in to kiss him. He's good at it too and for some reason, that pisses Ilya off.
When he nips at Ilya's lower lip, Ilya breaks away, panting. "I want to fuck you. Will you let me?"
Normally, Ilya would never suggest such a public setting where anyone can walk in at any time but he's never needed someone as badly as he needs Hollander writhing under him.
The question makes Hollander shudder like all those years ago when he came too fast. "We don't have lube, or-or condoms."
Ilya gestures to the bedroom, "there should be some in the drawer. Stay here yeah?"
With a little whine, Hollander leans against the railing, drunk and desperate for it. "We aren't moving to the bedroom?"
The suggestion makes him laugh. He wants Hollander out in the open where anyone could walk by and look up. See the Golden Boy getting fucked. He's fully hard at the mere thought and the way Hollander's jeans are tented, he didn't hate the idea either. "You are not girl, no?"
"Well, no. But-"
"Then I will have you out here. Stay." Ilya instructs. Hollander could easily tell him to go fuck himself and leave after all, he's never had a problem before. But he doesn't, so Ilya locks the bedroom door and finds lube but no condoms. "Shit."
He pokes his head out to the balcony where Shane is taking another swig from the bottle. "No condoms. I am clean though."
Hollander chews the inside of his cheek as he actually considers it. "How do you know?"
"Because I only ever use condoms." Ilya rolls his eyes.
"But you're willing to do this without one?" Hollander's eyebrow arches, tilting his head but he doesn't seem perturbed.
Ilya waves the bottle of lube at him, "Yes. What, are you scared of getting knocked up?"
That makes the other man glower at him, "Fuck you."
"Very creative. I like your similes." Ilya steps back out, not missing the way Hollander tracks him with his eyes. "Come here."
"That's not even a simile." Hollander complains as he does what he's told. Standing in front of him with his hands on his hips, the black of the jersey is beautiful on him.
Ilya curls a hand under his jaw, fitting perfectly in the crook of his throat. He does not squeeze but he wants to. Just a little. " No?" He asks.
Hollander's eyes are on his lips again, "No."
They meet again, lips connecting and he feels drunker than he has this whole night. Under his palm, Hollander's throat convulses. He even leans into Ilya's hand.
Ilya needs more so he kisses down Hollander's jaw and the column of his neck where it shines flawlessly in the mix of moonlight and the pink of the LED's below them. His heartbeat pounds through the thin skin there. "I need you so fucking badly" Ilya pants into him.
Hollander moans and arches up, "Get on with it then."
It comes out a bit shaky so Ilya bites down on his pulse point.
"Fucking-"
God, he's noisy. Ilya unbuttons Hollander's jeans and helps him get them down his thighs. He shivers despite the warmth when Ilya catches sight of the damp spot on his boxers where his cock was leaking. "Take off your pants and boxers." Ilya instructs just to watch Hollander scramble to comply.
He does and they're folded in a pile near their feet. When Hollander goes to take the jersey off, Ilya pulls his hands away. "Wanna fuck you in it." His own voice is rough with arousal.
Hollander makes a thin noise and lets himself be half carried to the railing. He grabs onto it and instinctively arches back into Ilya who takes a moment to appreciate it.
His ass is perfect, no doubt all hockey. Above it, sits two dimples that Ilya wants to trace with his tongue. "Such a good boy for me Hollander. Though with the way you're leaking everywhere, maybe I should say good girl." Ilya kicks his feet apart.
"I do not leak like a girl." Hollander spits but his cock is drooling everywhere so that was meaningless. "Are you gonna continue to talk or do something?" He demands impatiently.
Ilya rolls his eyes but uncaps the lube and coats two fingers. He gently pulls his cheeks apart to get a look at Hollander's hole. It's pretty and pink, so tiny that Ilya for a moment, wonders if he'll fit. God, he wants to make it fit. To see how far down that blush goes, he spits on his hole. He watches as Hollander clenches around nothing. Fucking hell. "If it hurts too bad, tell me to stop."
He slides one finger in, rubbing down Hollander's freckled spine to get him to relax. He works a finger around until there's some give and then he slips another. Realistically, Hollander probably would need three but two would have to do for now.
Hollander sobs dryly, "Jesus Christ." He shoves back on it and Ilya wasn't even touching his prostate.
"Oh I know. Too much Hollander? Need to tap out?" Ilya mocks and scissors his fingers out, curling them downward until:
"Oh fuck- Oh fuck," Hollander looks back at him, pupils blown wide, lips pink and bitten. "Wha' the fuck? "
Ilya can't help but grind his fingers down, rubbing against that bundle of nerves. He watches feverishly as Hollander's eyes roll back as his mouth drops open, rocking on Ilya's fingers. "Never fingered yourself before?" Hollander shook his head and whined. "Never been introduced to your prostate before huh? That's okay, I'll get you well aquatinted."
It's cocky but Hollander is too far gone to comment. " Okay, can you handle another finger?" Ilya asks, drizzling more lube over everything. It was a mess but a slick mess nonetheless.
When Hollander doesn't answer, he smacks his ass hard enough for him to yelp. "I asked you a question Shane. Answer me."
"Fucking ow! Jesus, okay. Yes." Hollander bites out. He makes a new noise when Ilya tucks a third finger in.
He lasts maybe another thirty seconds before he says, "Gonna cum, oh my God. Gonna cum."
Ilya withdrawals his fingers and slicks his cock up, rubbing a bit under the flushed head where the foreskin retracted. He groans but knows he won't last if he continues. So he presses forward into the heat.
The tip pops past the first ring of muscle and it's so goddamn warm and tight that Ilya genuinely bites his tongue. The sting is soothed by the immediate heat surrounding him.
Fuck.
Hollander is whimpering, broken little sounds that spill from him like a fountain. "Fuckkkk, you're big."
"I know. What can I say?" Ilya grinds down, setting a pace that makes the other man writhe. One hand tangled in the jersey and the other gripped on his hip. "God, you do sound like a girl. Maybe I should have taken you to bed." Ilya grits out as he clamps up around him.
Hollander's arms are wrapped around the railing as the sounds climb higher in pitch. Fuck someone was gonna hear them.
An idea occurred to Ilya.
"Hold on." Ilya withdrawals and the lack of warmth was practically painful. Spitting out the taste of pennies on the pavement from where he had bitten his tongue, Hollander lets out a particularly pitiful whine as Ilya grabs his boxers, the one with precum staining it. He is quick to return. "I got you a gag."
"Are those my boxers?" Hollander sounds utterly scandalized like they weren't fucking on the balcony in the middle of a party.
To keep Hollander from talking to much, Ilya shoves the crotch in his mouth, pushing it to where it properly muffles his sounds. " Much better." Proud of his work, Ilya presses him back down against the railing. Despite his grumbling, Hollander makes no move to take it out of his mouth and simply whimpers around the makeshift gag as Ilya pushes in again. " I know. Too much. I fuck your pussy so good that you can't keep from whining about it. Not your fault Hollander."
The pace that he sets hits the bundle of nerves, makes Hollander rock to the tips of his toes and garble out nonsensically. It's devastating and Ilya feels it in his toes. Lube squelches on every thrust, almost as loud as Hollander.
He clenches up around Ilya and sobs, legs shaking. "You gonna cum on my cock?" Ilya rasps, not far either.
Hollander nods desperately, hands clenching. There's actual honest to God tears in his eyes. "Well, you can cum anytime. Doesn't mean I'm stopping until I'm done." Ilya grabs a fistful of his hair hard enough to hurt, Hollander makes a sad little noise but all is forgiven when he tugs his head back.
With a muffled wail, Hollander comes. His dick sprays with every thrust, every deep grind makes his dick twitch hard.
As he promised, Ilya doesn't stop. He's so fucking close and the little shrieks of overstimulation everytime he thrusts against his prostate, only makes Ilya's balls draw up.
"Gonna cum in your cunt, pretty girl." He grinds out and fucks into him deep, cumming. It rips the breath out of his lungs and made his eyesight go spotty. All he can hear is Hollander's muffled whines and the distant thump of music. " Fuck, that's it. Take all of it."
Once he's done shuddering through the aftershocks, he draws out, hissing at the sensitivity. Ilya reaches over and takes the boxers out of Hollander's mouth.
Hollander's cheeks are wet and his eyes are red but he looks sated if not a bit overwhelmed. "Hi." It's a whisper.
"Hi." Ilya blinks down at him. "Are you okay?"
Hollander nods, "Always."