Chapter Text
Scene from the Long Game, Chapter 21, Summary:
Ilya told Shane that if he wanted to have sex with other men when they were apart, he could. Since Shane had figured out he was gay around the same time he’d realized he had fallen in love with Ilya, he did not get to explore sex beyond what Ilya could give him. All that mattered was that his heart belonged to Ilya. That’s what Ilya had told himself.
Shane did not take well to the offer; he had thought it was Ilya's subtle way of letting him know he had cheated or wanted to. Ilya told him, "he didn’t believe in cheating" because he didn’t owe Shane. It had ended with Shane storming out of Ilya’s house and driving back to Montréal, and ignoring his text for 3 days. On the fourth day, he'd finally called Ilya and said, “You really wouldn’t mind if I had sex with someone else?”
That was when Ilya had realized how much he would mind it and felt sick at the idea of someone else touching Shane, and he hadn’t been sure if Shane was asking because he’d already done it, or if he was about to, or what. But all Ilya had said was, “Of course not. If that is what you want.” And Shane's reply was “I don’t want, you fucking moron,” and Ilya had been so intensely relieved his knees had sunk to the ground.
Ilya and Shane had talked about it. They had sorted themselves out. Just another fight, a bottle of misunderstanding. Another challenge to navigate in their relationship, like any couple. Everything should be fine. Everything is fine.
No, Shane does not believe Ilya cheated on him, or that Ilya wants to. Ilya is loyal to him. But apparently, loyalty for Ilya had also meant Shane could go fuck someone else as long as his heart belonged to Ilya.
As if that's how it worked. As if love and sex could just be separated like that. Like it was unconnected, or independent of each other, somehow misrelated. Are they not two sides of the same coin? Are they not different, like yin and yang, but still complete when put together?
How can Shane explain that it's not just lust and desire that drive him to have sex with Ilya? How it doesn't just feel like biology to him. Not anymore.
How can he explain that he hates thinking about it that way because that same thought process is what drove him to lie to himself for eight years? How he managed to deflect his true feelings for so long, ignore what Ilya really meant to him, what he has always meant to him.
How can Shane explain that sex with Ilya makes him feel so vulnerable, and how utterly good it feels to see Ilya take care of that vulnerability? To take it and shape it and caress it and keep it close to his heart. How undone and embarrassingly bare he feels while they have sex, how every time feels like the first time.
How sometimes he's afraid that no amount of words he says will ever be good enough. How the emotions that he tries paint his face in can never be good enough because no one can ever tell how he's feeling, no one knows what he's thinking. He's too stoic, too closed off, too blank—
And that maybe, just maybe, when it all falls away, when it's just him and Ilya, locked together in every which way. Pressed so close Shane can't tell where he begins, and Ilya ends. Can't tell if the condensation on his skin is his alone or if he's drowning in the salt from Ilya’s skin. Can't tell if his body is burning to match Ilya's or if Ilya is cooling down to match his. Like homeostasis. Like their bodies can't help but acclimate to the other.
Maybe then Ilya can see, properly and truthfully, without filter, how Shane feels. What Ilya is capable of doing to him. What Shane wants to do to him, and for him.
Maybe it is, for other people, that simple to separate the two. Maybe this is just another thing Shane can’t understand. Something he isn't wired to understand.
🔍 can sex and love be seperated
Is what he types into Google cause, well, who the hell else is he supposed to ask?
Why sex and love don’t belong in the same bed
Olivia Fane
Sat 28 Jan 2017 06.15 GMT
Sex is not about souls. We have sexual desire when we want to have sex, not when we love someone.
That... seems like a wildly unfair and blanket assumption, he thinks, frowning at his screen. In fact, Shane feels his desire spikes most when he’s emotionally close to Ilya.
Fine, he can accept the part about sex not being about souls. That's asking for a lot. He's never needed sex to be holy. But—
Sex is a neutral and colourless thing, and a higher or lower sex drive is caused by hormones that are hard to control.
Neutral? Colourless? Shane feels anything but neutral when he's with Ilya. He's not trying to be dramatic, but sometimes his orgasms hit him so hard he's pretty sure new colours get invented behind his eyelids.
Love and erotic love are two very different emotions – I would argue they are almost contrary. Love proper is to do with the other person: it is about the care, respect and understanding of that human other. Love like this grows, it cannot help it. The more of yourself you invest in another person, the more you receive. You become as one: their pain is your pain, their joy, yours too. Erotic love, on the other hand, is about wanting something.
Shane doesn't... disagree with that. But his mind is stuck on the first line. He doesn't think they are contrary. He thinks those two things are mutually reinforcing.
Is that the problem, though? Because his relationship with Ilya was built on sex. Built on erotic love that became real love? Shane's desire refusing to surrender to division. Undivided. Had him falling in love with the first man he ever had sex with.
He returns to his search, refusing to investigate the article further. Because there is a small pit forming at the bottom of his stomach, and he needs it to stop. Wants to ease the discomfort he feels clawing up his spine. Wants to expel the small voice in his head whispering that he's been mislabelling the definition of sex this entire time. That it is really just hormones and chemistry, and Shane is the last person in the world to finally understand it.
The people on Reddit seem to agree with him, at least.
r/AskMen • Posted by GYN-k4H-Q3z-75B
I can have sex with somebody I don't love, but a romantic relationship without sex is impossible for me. Also, sex is a bit like pizza. It's always sort of good at least. But having passionate sex with the person you know and love is an entire order of magnitude more intense. Almost nothing beats sex with the person you love after a big fight because she's important to you.
Well, the pizza analogy is one way to put it.
He stays up late, determined to piece together his understanding of love and sex. He reads think pieces, articles, and video essays. At one point, he finds himself nodding along with a blog before realizing it’s a religious website, which makes him pause and reconsider everything he's absorbed.
Yeah, let's not do that today.
What he sort of understands by the end of it is that he’s not wrong for thinking the way he does. Neither are those who think the complete opposite of him. And that, the modern definition of sex has changed a lot in the past 60 years. The liberation behind it is more about how the act itself was framed as shameful, marred by societal norms and judgment. A means of procreation only, and something that had to be done with the person you loved, or you were considered impure.
Okay, sure, fine, he can understand that.
But there is still one thing he can't understand: I don't believe in cheating. I don’t own you, Shane.
There are even more views on this than Shane could imagine. Apparently, it's not so black-and-white. Lucky for him.
If Ilya cheated on Shane, what would he do?
I'd kill him.
The thought is so instant, it startles him, and he inhales sharply at how quickly his brain had veered towards violence.
I don't believe in cheating.
What is considered cheating? The internet doesn't have a straight answer. Wikipedia tells him: Cheating can refer specifically to infidelity, where arranged or consensual relationships, that often come with a social contract, are violated.
A user on a site called Quora says: I consider cheating to be anything that steps out of the boundaries I set with my partner. For example, my husband and I have a 100% honesty policy.
Fuck, he and Ilya don't have a social contract. Well, not in such an obvious way. Shane didnt set boundaries with him. Not on this. He didn't know he needed to; he didn't think he and Ilya had such drastic views on cheating.
Shane tries to organize his thoughts. He creates a table in his head. Cheating or not cheating?
1. Falling in love with someone else? Emotional cheating? Yes, still cheating.
2. Having sex with someone else? Fucking yes.
The thought of it alone makes Shane nauseous.
2a. Kissing? Cheater.
2b. Second base, third base? Shane doesn't want any part of Ilya on anyone else.
3. Flirting?
That one stoops him a little. Because Ilya does flirt. The real question is, when does he not? It's just part of who he is. How he charms his way through life. It's harmless, Shane knows this. Knows Ilya isn't doing it to lead someone on or be cruel. Knows Ilya plays it up particularly with female interviewers and sends Shane those clips just for Shane to text him back the middle finger.
Their version of foreplay.
He’ll joke about seeing a pretty fan at the last game who was wearing his Ottawa Centaurs jersey, ROZANOV proudly displayed across her back, and how he winked at her, and she blushed. And he will say this all casually, while he's three slicked fingers deep in Shane.
And Shane would grit his teeth in irritation, something green and acidic burning low in his belly. Ilya would grin wickedly, teeth glinting, eyes going bright with mischief. It’d edge Shane on even more, knowing Ilya is waiting for this exact reaction. Waiting for Shane to push him back till his fingers slide out of him, and Ilya would not even bother to wait for a signal; he would just lie back on the bed as Shane climbs on top and straddles him. Determination burning bright across his face, in every line of his body as he reaches back to line himself up and sink back down on his cock, inch by inch till they’re both breathless.
He’ll joke about threesomes and orgies right before heading out to party with his teammates, or he’ll text Shane about people trying to proposition him in the middle of his night.
It all ends the same. Shane pushing Ilya against the front gate before he leaves or when he comes back. Sinking to his knees, hands working clumsily to yank down his stupidly tight jeans. And then his lips would be wrapping around his cock, letting the familiar weight and taste of skin settle in his mouth, hands working the parts he can't accommodate. Ilya would curse, hands tangling themselves in his hair, pulling the strands till his scalp stings, sending a delicious shiver down Shane's spine.
And Shane doesn't mind. And he means it. Not in the way where he's putting up with something because he doesn't have strong enough feelings about it to do anything about it. He knows Ilya is not playing some sick game with him.
Shane’s jealousy is something that tangles with desire, curdles into possessiveness until he's biting at the leash to be set free. Free to sink his teeth into Ilya’s lip till it bruises. Free to rake his nails down his back till they leave lines of red, till Ilya’s back looks like it got mauled by an animal.
He wants to see Ilya come undone and know only he can do that to him. The way his grip tightens on Shane’s hips when he's fucking into him, pace erratic like Shane’s heat is the only thing worth chasing. The noises he makes when he eats Shane out, like he's starving for it and Shane’s his last meal. Like it's as blindingly pleasurable for him as it is for Shane. How he can't help but lick Shane’s cock clean when he comes and then, still, greedily makes his way up to Shane’s mouth to taste him there too. Like he can't get enough, will never get enough.
I don't believe in cheating.
Shane lies back on his bed, his phone back on charge on the nightstand next to him. He stares up at his ceiling, trying to make out patterns in the dark he knows aren’t there. His feet twist in the sheets; his blanket might as well have been made from paper with how wrong it feels against his skin.
I don't believe in cheating.
Shane swallows the lump in his throat. But I do.
Shane tries to push it out of his mind. Truly, he tries. He does not believe Ilya will cheat on him, that's not really it. But if he and Ilya have two different definitions of cheating, whose to say Ilya won't do something that he doesn't even see as disloyalty?
He said he didn't want to sleep with other people. That it was about Shane, being afraid he was getting the short end of the stick since he hadn't explored much of his sexuality outside of Ilya.
But Shane doesn't want to explore. He doesn't need to sleep with half of North America to know Ilya is it for him. Physically and emotionally.
I don't believe in cheating.
The words haunt him, day and night. They echo relentlessly and without mercy in his head. Make his stomach turn so unpleasantly that he loses his appetite altogether, despite having only eaten a strict number of calories that day.
It's overwhelming, and Shane can't do overwhelming. Doesn't like how every part of him is racing to feel something. The heavy weight on his chest, the tingling in his hands, the way his muscles lock up like they're bracing for impact.
Ilya isn't privy to any of this, courtesy of it being a heavy month full of schedules, games and brand deals. Shane is surprised he even has time to dread so much on a singular sentence—
I don't believe in cheating.
SHANE
Do you believe in cheating
ROSE LANDRY
do i need to call
who am i fighting
SHANE
Haha.
No, i dont think I can put verbally what im thinking, texting is easier
Ilya didnt cheat, by the way
ROSE LANDRY
Start with that jesus, i almost bought a gun
SHANE
That is the American in you
ROSE LANDRY
shane??
SHANE
Sorry
That wasnt me trying to joke about gun violence
ROSE LANDRY
the way i know you so earnestly mean that
ok backtrack, cheating, do i believe in cheating?
is this your way of asking if i thought you cheated on me
dating me while secretly being in love with someone else
SHANE
I really was a terrible boyfriend
ROSE LANDRY
no you werent, you were actually so devoted to me and trying to make things work, even though you were helplessly gay
and wouldve kept on dating me, had i not let you have your gay awakening
SHANE
Thank you for that, by the way
ROSE LANDRY
anytime
no shane, you didnt cheat on me. not even emotional cheating
well.
given your situation, no.
SHANE
So you believe in emotional cheating
ROSE LANDRY
yes, like , i guess attraction is a bit of a grey area but if you're fantasizing about BEING with someone else
god forbid falling in love then yeah, its cheating
SHANE
So not just physical
ROSE LANDRY
for me, both count as cheating
SHANE
What level of physical
ROSE LANDRY
you kiss someone and im mixing bleach in your drink
Shane snorts and falls back against the couch, trying to make himself comfortable.
SHANE
I agree.
But not everyone thinks like you and me
ROSE LANDRY
true, you have to set boundaries with your partner
SHANE
Shane is typing...
Shane has stopped typing.
Shane is typing...
Yeah
ROSE LANDRY
i can feel the 1000 yard stare behind that ‘yeah’
SHANE
The what
ROSE LANDRY
i need to make you a meme manual
SHANE
The internet said the same thing, about the boundaries
ROSE LANDRY
oh my poor baby boy, you were googling this shane?
i just want to wrap you in a blanket and put you in my pocket
SHANE
How would I fit in your pocket
ROSE LANDRY
i would shrink you
SHANE
How would you shrink me
ROSE LANDRY
magic
Stop distracting me, why are you googling essays about cheating
SHANE
Ilya didnt cheat
ROSE LANDRY
ok
SHANE
he told me he didn't believe in cheating
ROSE LANDRY
Rose is typing....
Rose is typing....
Rose has stopped typing....
ok if my bf had said that to me I'd probably crash out too
SHANE
Rose Landry
ROSE LANDRY
full government name damn, see i tell everyone you're the funniest person i know and they dont believe me
fucking losers
SHANE
Who says im not funny, it’s Ilya, isn’t it?
ROSE LANDRY
forget that
sorry, ok so, what did he say when you told him you do believe in cheating
SHANE
Shane is typing...
Shane is typing...
Shane has stopped typing.
ROSE LANDRY
hello?
Shane? did u die?
SHANE
I didn't tell him
ROSE LANDRY
shane.
SHANE
What am i supposed to say? I cant change his mind its unfair, we all have our
beliefs
And the definition of sex has changed alot in the past half century
Did you know the LGBTQ community and women's rights activism played a central role in the sex revolution
To challenge societal norms and demand rights to a person's sexual autonomy
LGBTQ+*
ROSE LANDRY
of course i dont know that, they dont teach us this shit in american schools
and i would totally watch a whole documentary on you about this, which im pretty sure you have 4 of them already up in queue
but back to the more pressing matters
It's all fine and dandy you dont want to force your belief on him, however you are allowed to set BOUNDARIES
that man loves you, if he found out he did something (unintentionally) that would hurt you, he'd be devastated
SHANE
I cant change the way he thinks, thats not how relationships work i cant force my thinking on him
ROSE LANDRY
youre not asking him to change the way he thinks, youre asking him to understand how you feel
how despite him not believing cheating is a real thing, you do
and that if he were to go and hook up with someone, it would hurt you
that's a hard no for you
we can only establish our rules with our loved ones
its up to them to accept, or compromise
SHANE
And if they don't
ROSE LANDRY
they deal with the consequences.
I don't believe in cheating.
I don't believe in cheating.
I don't believe in cheating.
“Shane!”
Shane startles out of his thoughts, coughing as the smell of barbecue and smoke fills his nostrils. He hastily flips the burgers over, grimacing at the sight of slightly burnt meat.
“Sorry,” he mumbles as he begins to plate the ones that are fully cooked.
“Nah, don't worry, Jackie likes them well done,” Hayden calls from beside him.
He’s at the Pike residence one late evening. The Canadian weather is finally good enough after months of grey, and now every citizen has started busting out picnic chairs and grills, skin itching to go outside.
The sun is hiding behind the clouds, painting the evening sky in orange and yellow shadows. Jackie is over by the patio table, plating the rest of the food. Hayden’s kids are running, giggling, and wreaking havoc across the large yard. It's nice, almost distracting, and pulls a smile from Shane. Hayden’s kids are adorable.
I don't believe in cheating.
Shane sighs, like he's been holding in his breath all day. Here we go again.
“You okay, man? You've been off for a few days, don't tell me it's because you're missing Rozanov?”
“Do you believe in cheating?”
Hayden chokes on his beer, spluttering liquid everywhere as he hastily puts his can down. He slams his fist into his chest a couple of times to regain his breathing, and Shane winces, hands hovering awkwardly before he apologetically pats his back.
“Is Jackie cheating on me?” Hayden finally manages to wheeze out, eyes darting over to where his wife was standing by the table, no longer there, probably headed back in the house.
“What? No, I mean I don't think so—”
“You don't think so?!”
“No, I—” Shane closes his eyes and takes a big breath. “Jackie didn't do anything to make me think she's cheating on you. This has nothing to do with her.” he tells him slowly, trying to sound reassuring.
Hayden eyes him for a couple of seconds, still rubbing at his sternum, before his hand drops. He nods once and gestures for Shane to continue.
“But, if Jackie did cheat—”
Hayden groans, sounding almost pained. “Shane.”
“What would you classify as cheating? Do you believe in cheating?” Shane finishes asking.
Hayden crosses his arms and studies him for a second. Like Shane's a puzzle he can't solve or make sense of. His hands drop to his side before one comes up to run through his hair, mussing up the ends. “Yes, I believe in cheating, and I don’t know, cheating is just... cheating.”
“But what is cheating? “ Shane asks again, voice growing insistent. “Like, having sex with someone else? What if she just made out with someone?”
“Are you sure there's not something you need to tell me?”
“No, Hayden, I know it’s a weird question, just humour me.”
Hayden sighs, long and suffering. He truly does look pained, and Shane feels bad that he's putting unwanted images in his head.
“I think...I might be able to look past kissing someone. If she's truly sorry. But if she were too...” Hayden makes a face and swallows once, like the words are hard to digest. “If she had sex with someone else, yeah, I would—I would call that cheating.” He pauses for a minute before he hastily adds, “I don't want her kissing anyone else. That's not what I'm saying.”
Shane nods in understanding, mauling over his words. He knows for a fact that if Ilya kissed someone else, he'd consider it cheating.
“What if she fell in love with someone else?” Shane finds himself asking before he can stop himself.
“Jesus, Shane, you're killing me!” Hayden whines from beside him, throwing his hands up in the air.
“My bad.”
“My bad, is that all you have to say for yourself? I don't know. Okay? I don't know what I would classify that as. I don't think it matters much.”
“It doesn't?”
Hayden looks over as Jackie steps out of the backyard door again, balancing trays in her hands.
“I don't think I'd be able to stay with her if she did any of those things. It would be hard to forget.” Hayden’s jaw tightens once, before he unclenches. “Or forgive,” he adds quietly. And then he's jogging over to Jackie, kissing her cheek once and grabbing both of the trays from her hands. Jackie raises an amused eyebrow before she leans up on her feet, kisses Hayden back, and pats his cheek affectionately.
Shane watches the scene for a moment before he turns around and begins turning off the machine. He grabs the plate of burgers as he makes his way to the table, nearly falling over as one of Hayden's daughters zooms past him, undeterred.
Yeah, I don't think I can forgive it either. Or forget.
I don't believe in cheating.
It echoes in his head as Shane does his laundry.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane does the dishes.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane packs his clothes.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane eats.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane runs on the treadmill.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane’s parents talk across from him.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane skates on the ice, shoots and scores a goal.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane skates on the ice, shoots and misses a goal.
I don't believe in cheating.
As Shane listens to Ilya celebrate a win on the phone, promising he won't be out too late. Promising he won't miss his flight tomorrow, the one that'll bring him back to Ottawa, to Shane.
Shane thinks he’ll be fine, that all he needs to do is see Ilya, in the flesh, real and present. Needs to hold him in his arms, needs to smell his familiar scent; the underlying smell of tobacco that he hates but has unfortunately gotten used to, cause its him.
He just needs to see him, and it’ll stop. The taunting in his head will stop. The misery he feels so achingly deep, it has decided to make home in the marrow of his bones, will finally stop.
All he needs to do is see Ilya, and the anxiety will stop. Because Ilya has some sort of magical fucking superpowers, where Shane’s brain allows itself to turn off just for a bit, where he’s able to forget and just exist and trust Ilya to take care of him.
The anxiety will stop, before Ilya can even notice, cause no one needs to see this. No one deserves to be burdened by Shane's utter lack of control, his failure to regulate his emotions. Ilya has done so much for Shane's sake, all for what, for Shane to not trust him in return? Because what, he can’t comprehend the way Ilya thinks? Is that who Shane is? So close-minded that he can't even let others have their own opinions? Is he so...
Bigoted? No, too harsh. Godmatic? Maybe. Obstinate?
The words hurt his brain. But not as much as the idea of Ilya cheating—
Shane snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the front door. And moments later, in steps Ilya, travel bags swinging in both hands, mesh snapback on backwards, blonde curls still managing to peak through. He looks tired, in the way that playing a game and immediately having a flight the next day would do to you.
But that fatigue seems to slip away when he finally sees Shane, and their eyes lock; a smile breaks across his face, and his mouth opens in a grin. His eyes soften in a way Shane never understood before, because what do books ever mean when they say his gaze softened—
I don't believe in cheating.
Fuck. God. Not right now. Please—
Ilya’s bags drop to the floor, his keys following shortly and dropping carelessly somewhere. His foot kicks back in a practised move, and the door shuts close.
Shane has half the mind to tell him to pick up his keys, to leave his shoes on the rack, to lock the damn door, but all thoughts leave the room when Ilya confidently strides across the room to him, like a man on a mission.
There's desperation in the way his feet pick up in pace, like he's afraid Shane’s going to disappear. Desperation in the way he finally grabs Shane's face when he's close enough, hands warm to the touch. Desperation in the way he leans down and kisses Shane. Hard.
I don't believe in...
Shane’s hands move how they always move, practised and sure because he’s done this so many times. One hand shoves away at his hat so he can grab onto his curls, the other settling behind his neck to pull him closer. Their teeth clash with the force of it, and Shane has to grip Ilya tighter so he doesn't sway over.
I don't believe....
Ilya tastes like bad coffee, shitty airline toothpaste, and home. Shane doesn't care. Not when his thoughts are finally turning slow, thick like molasses. Doesn't care cause his thoughts are finally tuning out, decreasing in volume. And the only thing running through his mind is he’s here and I love you and fuck its been so long and I love him I love him I—
I don't...
He wants Ilya closer. He wants Ilya to be his and his alone. He wants Ilya's hands on him, he wants Ilya's mouth to only seek his out, he wants Ilya’s eyes to never stray too far from him—
I...
Shane wants all of him. For himself only.
Their clothes were discarded without care, a fact Shane knows will bother him later when he has to go looking for them, like it's a damn treasure hunt. They almost don't make it to the bedroom, but Ilya stops him with a growl, “I am not going to fuck you on the staircase after not seeing you for a month.”
And well, what was Shane supposed to do other than listen to him? Even if he really was tempted to just get on his knees and get him off right in the middle of the hallway.
They make it to the bedroom, barely.
It never stops feeling like this; this intense pressure that fills him so deeply that he's afraid he’s going to pop. He's surprised every time how much room his body has, how much space it makes for Ilya’s cock to slide in.
He throws his head back, voice choking on a whimper, and Ilya takes that opportunity to attack the skin on his neck. Nipping at it till it bruises in shades of purple and blue, marks Shane’s going to complain about later, but be secretly pleased about. Bruises that will sting deeply when he presses on them till they blanch under his fingertips.
There's no rhythm or rhyme to their movements. This is'nt about making love. There is love, yes, but this is not lovemaking. This is a month's worth of pent-up energy. A month's worth of longing. Of a need so visceral it burns under their skin, thrashes behind their ribcage, gnawing at the bones to get out.
“God, fuck, Ilya, I missed you so much,” Shane pants between them, eyes blinking rapidly as they search for the man above him.
“Moy lyubimiy, I missed you too,” Ilya says back, voice hoarse. His face is flushed, pinched in concentration as he thrusts into Shane with reckless abandon.
His moles stand out so much more when his face is all red, Shane thinks hazily, eyes trying to focus on a single point on Ilya’s face, even as they keep fluttering shut in pleasure.
Ilya sits up a little, hands moving from Shane’s hips to instead push and bend his knees further back, fold him on himself. The angle changes and—
“Fuck! Fuck Ilya, I’m—if you keep—I’m not—”
Shane’s hands fall, and he clenches the sheets around him till his knuckles go white. Every graze of Ilya’s cock against his prostate has him jumping like he’s been electrocuted. Every nerve under his skin tingles with sensation, his muscles contracting in anticipation. Everything feels raw to the touch; one blow of the wind and Shane is going to dissolve in his sheets.
“Always come so fast, Hollander, all these years, and you still can't control yourself.” Ilya teases, hands coming to wrap around Shane’s cock, flushed and swollen, begging for release. Ilya’s thumb teases at the slit, collecting the precome to make the slide of his hands smoother.
Shane tries to glare, really he does, but then Ilya moves his wrist in a certain way, and Shane’s head falls back in defeat, a startled gasp leaving his lips.
“Fuck you,” Shane manages to mutter in a shaky voice.
“I'll fuck you any day,” Ilya whispers above him, voice strained as he too gets close to his release.
Shane clenches down around him in retaliation, and Ilya curses, his rhythm faltering.
“Fuc—you play dangerous game, Hollander." Ilya's hand moves faster, wrist twisting till it aches. "Shit, come for me. I want you to come for me.” Ilya urges him.
There's no buildup when Shane’s orgasm finally hits. Thats not what it feels like. It feels like an explosion, sudden and unexpected. Like, all this time it was just waiting for Ilya's permission, one flip of the trigger.
Shane sobs as it hits, liquid fire that burns through him. He gives in to it, lets himself free-fall. His mind goes white, and he distinctly feels the weight of Ilya's hips stuttering, cock throbbing and pulsing inside him as he finds his release as well.
Shane’s mind completely blanks out. His head is somewhere in the stratosphere, somewhere heady, where he feels like he can float. Just him and the weight of Ilya still on top of him, still inside him. Their hearts beating in tandem, blood rushing so fast in his veins he can almost hear it.
He lets the world narrow to a single point, just this pocket of space between them. Let himself fall into the safety of Ilya’s arms.
“Hi.”
Shane blinks awake, eyes fluttering till the stars behind them disappear, and Ilya’s flushed face comes into view. He gives him a dopey little smile and leans up. Ilya takes the hint without further prompt and tilts down to give Shane a chaste little kiss that warms him from the inside out. His fingertips mindlessly come up to trace Shane’s freckles in hypnotic circles.
“Hey,” Shane mumbles in return. “Has to be some sort of record, I don't even think we greeted each other when you walked in.”
“That's why I'm doing now, it is polite thing to do. But you could not resist me.” Ilya says, nipping at Shane’s jaw.
“Fuck off, you kissed me first.” Shane shoots back, pushing the latter back. Ilya doesn't even flinch, just grabs Shane's hands and interweaves their fingers and presses them between their chests. His lips move up, till they kiss at the corner of his mouth, his cheek, the space under his eyes where his freckles are scattered in heavier concentration.
Shane sighs at the feeling, his body going loose and weightless like gravity had let go of him. This is always his favourite part, the aftercare. How Ilya would murmur sweet things to him in Russian. How his hands would move up and down the length of his body, fingers caressing in apology where he left bruises. The kisses, God the kisses. Small and soft and gentle and all over till Shane feels giddy with every emotion imaginable.
“The airline lost my luggage,” Ilya tells him, pulling away, propping his head on one hand. His hands have found their way home to his chest, finger grazing over his nipple in lazy flicks, and Shane hums at the sensation, body still sensitive.
Ilya's still inside, and Shane knows he has exactly five minutes before the feeling of Ilya comes trickling out of him starts feeling more bothersome than hot. But for now, he lets himself enjoy it. The intimacy of having Ilya so close like this, a part of him inside of him like this.
“Shit, did you make a complaint?” Shane asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.
“Yeah, yeah, might be in Paris now,” Ilya replies, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
“Paris?”
“Mmm, that is what customer service lady said. They even offered a 5-star hotel stay till they could get my luggage back.”
“Hm, should've taken the offer, I would've tagged along.”
“Really? You would have risked paparazzi and shown up at a 5-star hotel where I was staying?”
“Okay, fine, good point.”
His come is definitely dried by now, and Shane is starting to feel every drop of the sticky mess on his chest and belly. Maybe they should start cleaning up—
“I think the lady had... different intentions?”
“... Ulterior motives?”
“Yes! They lost Bood's luggage too, but they didn't offer hotel to him. Only me. I think if I took the offer, she would not have been happy to see you.”
Shane’s pretty sure he got fucked so good, he literally can't think straight right now. Can’t think about anything other than the fact that Ilya’s come is still inside him, and it's veering into this feels weird territory, and I feel like I need to use the toilet—
“What do you mean?”
“I think she wanted to fuck me, was offering a hotel for us to meet up.”
Shane blinks at him. Well, Shane understands that. “Oh,” is all he's able to say.
Ilya continues, none the wiser, wanting to see the familiar set of Shane's furrowed eyebrows, his eyes narrowing with nothing but murder behind them. Definitely trying to rile Shane up for round two.
I don't believe in cheating.
Shane, honest to God, almost flinches, like someone tried to punch him but missed at the last minute.
“But ah, maybe she would've been happy to see you, too. What is better than fucking one hockey player, fucking two.” Ilya says, holding up his pinky and then his ring finger as he counts, mouth turning up into a playful smirk.
I don't believe in cheating.
“Well, it's a good thing you didn't go, and I stayed here at your house.” Shane forces the words out, turning his face and closing his eyes.
Fuck, fuck, he can feel it. Creeping in like a dreadful creature from the place that shall not be named. He feels his body temperature drop to freezing, and the heavy press of something sharp and jagged against his chest. There's a pressure behind his eyes that he's hoping will disappear if he keeps his eyes shut for long enough. And there's still fucking come on him and in him, and it's starting to feel—
“Could always invite her here.” Ilya goads him on. “If you ever change your mind about threesomes, I know lots of interested women.”
I don't believe in cheating. I don't believe in cheating. I don't believe in cheating. I don't believe in cheating. I don't believe in cheating. I don't believe in cheating. I don't believe in cheating—
There's a sound, wounded and hurt, like an animal that’s trying not make any noise, not trying to alert the wrong predator. And Shane doesn't even realize it's clawing out of his throat until it finally pushes past his lips and into the room.
“Shane?” he hears a voice call, but it sounds so far away, like he is underwater or someone's stuffed cotton in his ears.
His name is called again, and Shane finally forces his eyes open, blinking back the tears until Ilya’s confused face sharpens before him.
“Shane?” Ilya says, louder now, alarm curling under his voice. “What’s—”
“Getoff” Shane mumbles, hands coming up to create distance from himself and Ilya.
Ilya bends his head down, ears straining to understand. “Shane, what did you say? What's wrong—”
“Get—move I—Ilya, please move,” Shane repeats louder, voice shaky, trying to move his mouth clearly around the syllables.
The words register, and Ilya finally starts to move, face tight with concern. He pulls out carefully with a wet squelch, and Shane grimaces at the feeling.
Should've fucking got up when I wanted to, he hinks irritably.
Before Ilya can say anything else, Shane scrambles off the bed, even though his hips protest. His legs still feel like jello, and he stumbles, trying to kick his feet into feeling solid again.
“Shane, Shane, wait, what's wrong?” Ilya calls from behind him, running after him.
I don't believe in cheating.
Shane's breath catches on a sob, and he muffles his mouth with a hand to keep the sound in. It’s too much. Everything feels like too much. He’s naked, and he can feel entirely too much on his body, inside his body, and he hates how it's starting to feel gross. His head is pounding, and he can't even focus on placating his mind when his lungs are also screaming in his throat for breath. His skin is still buzzing, but no longer with the little zaps of pleasure. No. All he feels now are pins and needles.
Ilya hears, of course, he hears, his hands reach out to hold Shane, tension lying in every part of his body. “Shane—”
“Don't touch me,” Shane snaps, more desperation than yelling as he rips his arm out of Ilyas's grasp. His tears have nowhere to go now. Too heavy to be held by his eyelashes alone, and they finally spill over, hot and humiliating, down his cheeks.
Ilya freezes in place, hand hovering mid-air. Shane watches, his vision blurry, as a myriad of emotions flicker across his face: confusion, hurt, fear. Ilya takes an unconscious step back like someone shoved him. His hands twitch, like they want to reach out and catch every single one of Shane’s tears. His body curls in on itself, trying to make himself appear smaller.
He looks... terrified. Like, Shane just called him a monster, and he believes it. Believes he's a big, scary creature, and he needs to hide himself before he hurts anyone else.
Sorry God I'm sorry I didn't mean to—I'm just—I'm feeling too—
Shane turns away, tripping the rest of the way to the adjoining bathroom. He locks the door behind him and slides down till he feels nothing but the cold bite of the porcelain tiles beneath him.