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Shane listened to Ilya’s breathing, his head resting on the warmth of his wide chest. His upper body rose and fell with the deep inhales and exhales and if it wasn’t for the gentle touch of the man’s fingers in his hair, Shane would’ve sworn he was asleep. The living room rewarded them with the quiet view of the setting sun as yet another movie that Shane “absolutely had to see!” played on the screen. It was nice to have moments like this-moments where they just got to be together. In the summer, at Shane’s cottage, just the two of them. Shane inhaled the smell of Ilya, burying his nose into his sternum. Laundry detergent and cologne mixed with a hint of everything that was his Ilya overwhelmed his senses. To just have space and time and freedom to exist was precious. Which, of course, was why Shane had zero interest in ruining it with his anxiety and insecurities.
Shane worked hard to not let either of those things get the better of him when it came to Ilya. Ilya loved him. Shane loved Ilya. Ilya would move mountains to make sure that Shane felt happy and loved. Shane would do the same. It wasn’t even a question. However, that didn’t mean that Shane was perfect. Earlier in the day, while Ilya swam in the lake and Shane watched him from the dock, he made the mistake of checking his phone. This was something he tried not to spend too much time doing when he had Ilya to himself. Usually he looked at it to scroll mindlessly through Instagram or watch something funny on YouTube, maybe catch up on some texts. However, there was this bad habit that Shane had picked up throughout his years as a professional hockey player. Shane knew it drove Ilya insane, but on occasion he sometimes searched their names on Google, seeking out what outlandish stories existed about either of them. The tabloids could get pretty creative. It was a morbid curiosity Shane had never been able to shake.
Usually it was funny. Usually it was harmless, or baseless and untrue. Unfortunately, the article that graced his eyes was not even a little funny and unfortunately completely based in truth. The offending title was “A Chronological List of Ladies’ Man Ilya Rozanov’s Affairs.” The title, both messy and uncreative, was regrettably accurate. Shane spent the next twenty minutes reading and scanning each of the blurbs that accompanied the pictures of what felt like hundreds of stunning women. There were numbers next to each picture, and Shane had counted only twenty, but to him even one was too many.
Shane always followed Ilya’s hockey career, yes, but he also kept a close eye on his many conquests. Before they were dating, Shane constantly looked at the hundreds of paparazzi pictures captured of Ilya and his string of many blondes, several brunettes, and a smattering of redheads. He didn’t allow himself to admit he cared about Ilya’s string of lovers. Thinking back, what he had was far too many feelings and absolutely no way to figure out how to navigate any of them. Jealousy was a frequent emotion for Shane. Well, before he and Ilya became boyfriends, anyway.
Shane tried to ignore this feeling as much as he could, but it brought up the familiar sickly feelings of inadequacy. Shane wasn’t Ilya’s first anything. Not in the bedroom, anyway. Not by a long shot. But Shane lacked any real experience before Ilya. Ilya was practically Shane’s first… everything. Being with girls made him feel anything but sexy, so he avoided sex at all costs with them. Being with men before Ilya was a non-starter with all of Shane’s… complicated feelings on the matter. And, well, during Ilya? Shane didn’t really feel any sort of attraction to anyone that wasn’t a tall, broad, blonde Boston hockey player that bullied him as often as he made him blush.
This was a problem. Shane knew it was only a matter of time before Ilya called him out on his silence that was clearly fueled by more than just relaxation. He tried to will himself to feel better, to not fret, but he felt that insecurity trickle in. How could someone like Ilya, someone so handsome, and clever, and confident, and experienced, settle for someone like boring, anxious Shane Hollander? Shane bit his lip, willing himself to relax. He felt a press of lips on the top of his head, and allowed his eyes to flutter closed for a beat. He really loved Ilya. He just couldn’t imagine how Ilya could possibly love him.
“Moya lyubov, you are thinking too loudly. I cannot take afternoon nap with the sound.” Ilya ran his long, sure fingers over Shane’s spine, placing another kiss on his hair. Shane made a noncommittal noise and tried his best to shrug. Shane Hollander was many things, but successfully nonchalant he most certainly was not.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shane responded. His voice sounded off to his own ears. Ilya sighed beneath him, Shane’s head rising and falling with the breath. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ilya could read him like a book. He always could, on and off the rink.
“Shane, you are very bad liar. Very bad. Always try to lie, and I always know.” Ilya shifted himself up so that he was more upright against the couch cushions. He maneuvered Shane to straddle his lap. Nothing about the gesture was inherently sexual, but incredibly intimate. It forced Shane to look at Ilya. Ilya, whose tousled curls and heavy eyelids from the afternoon of relaxing would normally drive Shane to distraction. Instead, he was reminded of how beautiful Ilya was and how lacking Shane was. Shane looked away from his boyfriend, finding a spot on the wall behind his head incredibly interesting. Ilya gripped his chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling Shane back to look at him. “Tell me what is bothering you on such perfect day, solynshko. Hm?”
Shane sighed, trying to fight the urge to look away. He closed his eyes, taking his own deep breath. “It’s super dumb.” Shane said, “Really ridiculous.”
Ilya chuckled, stroking his thumb gently over Shane’s freckles. “Is okay. Tell me anyway.” Shane opened his eyes gently, only to be met with Ilya’s gentle, adoring smile. Shane felt himself smile back.
“It’s really nothing, baby.” Shane argued, shaking his head. He rested a hand briefly on Ilya’s cheek and brought his lips to his forehead. This was ridiculous. Ilya didn’t need this right now, not when they had so few days together as it was. They were fortunately still on their break for the season. But even still, they both had things to attend to and any time they had to spend together felt precious. Any time they spent together that Shane ruined made him feel incredibly selfish.
“Tell me.” Ilya grasped Shane’s hand in his, brushing a gentle kiss over the back of his knuckles. Shane wasn’t getting out of this.
“So… can I ask you something?”
“Depends. Is it about Pike joining us on our relaxing trip to the cabin? Because the answer is no if that is the case.” Ilya joked, cracking a smirk. Shane normally would smile at this, chastise Ilya for his blatant dislike of Shane’s best friend, but suddenly Shane felt wracked with nerves.
He cleared his throat, playing with the collar of Ilya’s tee shirt and avoiding eye contact. “Do you, uh,” he cleared his throat again, “do you ever feel like you wish I had more experience?” Shane cringed, the bluntness of his question not even close to how he wanted to broach the topic. Stupid.
“Experience. What do you mean by this?” Ilya asked carefully, taking one of Shane’s hands in his and grasping his hip through the fabric of his shorts. He stroked a gentle thumb back and forth against the bone. The gesture was calming. Shane took a fortifying breath.
“Well… just like, do you ever wish that I had, uh, I don’t know… been with more people before you?”
Ilya took a moment to respond. Shane could not bring himself to look at him. When he finally did, Ilya’s brows were furrowed in the way that they did when he was trying to figure out a particularly complex English phrase. Shane opened his mouth to speak, to explain, “I just mean. Like, if you ever wish that I had more experience with other people besides just with you? Because you’re the only person I’ve ever really been with and I just don’t know if you wish that was different? Like maybe if you-“
Ilya placed a gentle hand on Shane’s cheek and brushed a thumb over his freckles. “Shane, sweetheart, what is this about?” He asked. Shane sighed in defeat.
“I just- you- I know you have a lot more experience than me. You’ve been with people who maybe were better than me in bed or had more experience doing certain things and I just wanted to know if you wish that I did. That I was um, better maybe?” His voice was quiet and tentative. His cheeks started to heat up, and he knew that the rapidly spreading pink color was certainly not doing him any favors.
“Hm. So, let me understand what you’re asking.” Ilya’s voice was calm, collected. His eyes, however, shined with what Shane recognized as… anger? “You’re asking me if I wish that you had more sex before we had sex, yes?”
Shane nodded. He continued to play with the collar of Ilya’s shirt, his nerves feeling frayed.
Ilya brought his other hand to Shane’s hip and grasped firmly on either side. Shane bit his lip. “You’re asking if I wish that other people got to see you the way that I do? You’re asking if I wish other people got to see what’s mine? Touch you and take you apart the way that I do?” Ilya’s voice was low. It crackled with something that made Shane shiver. Possessive, almost.
“I-“ Shane cleared his throat, the sensation of Ilya kneading his hips distracting. “Yes? Because maybe-“ Shane tried to figure out what was going on with Ilya’s face. His eyes looked dark, his lips pulled into a tight frown. “I’m sorry, I-“
“You want to know if I wish that other people put their hands on you?” Ilya’s voice was tight, “Shane, moya lyubov,” he moved a hand to cup the back of Shane’s neck to bring him closer, “the thought of anyone else touching you makes me insane. It makes me crazy.” He placed his lips to Shane’s. The feeling was claiming. The kiss packed more heat than Shane had been anticipating and he felt himself stumble further in Ilya’s lap, pressing their chests closer together. Shane felt his breath quicken as Ilya brought a hand to his hair. He pulled Shane up slightly to look at him. Shane gasped at the sight of his almost black eyes, the blue of his irises swallowed by the black of his pupils. “You want me to go crazy. Is that what that is? Thinking about other people touching you when you are mine?”
“I just-“ Shane gasped as Ilya flipped them, pinning Shane’s back effortlessly to the couch, “You’ve been with so many other people and I-“
Ilya kissed him again, cutting him off. He was merciless. He pushed his tongue messily into Shane’s mouth and Shane arched into him. Ilya grasped Shane’s thigh, placing it on the outside of his hip. He ground down against the brunette and both drew in a breath at the sudden contact. Ilya was hard against him and Shane realized that he was, too. Ilya pulled away abruptly, pressing a kiss to Shane’s ear as he bit the lobe, “They mean nothing to me. Nothing. Not when you are mine. Not when you are perfect.” Ilya grasped Shane’s wrists and lifted them above his head, pressing them into the sofa. Shane let out a shuttery moan as Ilya bit at his neck and soothed the sting with his tongue, “Not when you are such a good boy for me, hm?” His voice was gravel against Shane’s ear and Shane arched into him further, trying to get him closer. He squirmed against Ilya’s hands. He wanted to touch. He wanted to- he wanted-
“Ilya, please.” Shane whimpered against Ilya’s lips as he brought them back together. Ilya kissed like a man starved. Ilya kissed like Shane’s lips were oxygen, that he needed them to breathe. Shane moaned against him as his hips ground up involuntarily, the action causing Ilya to let out his own low groan.
Ilya pulled away from Shane, placing his lips against his ear as he rolled his hips lazily. Shane could feel his anxiety ebbing and disappearing entirely, trusting Ilya to look after him like he always did. The sensation of Ilya rolling their hips together as he tightened his grip on Shane’s wrists caused Shane to bite his lip to hold back another whimper. “Ah, I don’t think so, sweetheart. I want to hear you, yes? I want to hear sounds only I know. Every little slutty moan. They’re mine. Only mine.” Shane whined Ilya’s name, a plea. He wanted him so badly. He could hardly stand it. “You ask me if I wish you had been fucked by anyone besides me? Never, Shane. You are perfect for just me. Yes?”
Shane nodded frantically as he chased the friction against Ilya. “Yes, Ilya. Yes- uhn, ohgod, only yours.” Ilya chuckled against Shane’s ear, continuing the slow roll of his hips. Shane was embarrassingly close. He couldn’t- “Ilya, Ilya- I’m gonna cum.”
Ilya bit Shane’s earlobe. Shane arched further as he chased his orgasm. He wanted Ilya to fuck him but he was so close, God he was right there- his moans were loud to his own ears as he felt his thighs start to shake. “That’s right. I’m the only one that makes you feel like this, yes? No one else. Only me.” His voice was little more than a growl as he groaned into Shane’s ear. Shane squirmed against him. “Come on. Come on, Shane. I want you to cum for me.”
“Yeah, fuck. Ilya, ohmygod-“ Shane let out a whine as his body shook and convulsed, pushing against Ilya’s hands as he held him against the couch. His orgasm was intense, far more intense than dry humping on his couch should be, and Ilya continued to rock against him. Shane could only whisper Ilya’s name, more a prayer than a moan, as he came down. Ilya wasn’t far behind him as he burrowed his face in Shane’s neck, a low groan punching out of him as he came.
Ilya’s hands released Shane’s and he brought them to Ilya’s back, rubbing up and down the corded muscles of his back. “You’re mine, Shane. I wouldn’t have you any other way. You’re perfect, hm?” Ilya nuzzled against Shane’s neck. “Tell me you weren’t reading bullshit Google stories again, please.” His voice was soft, spent. Shane felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
“You told me not to lie, so…”
Shane practically felt Ilya roll his eyes against Shane’s neck. “Solynshko. That’s bad for your brain. Makes you think dumb things, like I want people touching my boyfriend who I love which I most definitely do not.”
Shane groaned against the side of Ilya’s head. He was a little bit mortified, yes, but mostly grateful. Ilya loved him and always knew what he needed. “I love you so much.” Shane said quietly. Ilya nodded.
“Yes, I know. Is why you ask crazy questions, yes? What was article?”
Shane sighed. After all of that the least he could do was tell him. “It was a list of your exes. And I just felt like you had all of these experiences and that maybe I wasn’t good enough for you. That maybe I couldn’t give you what you wanted.”
Ilya shook his head, pulling back to give Shane a kiss on his forehead. “You’re all I want ever. You must know this.”
Shane nodded. “I do.”
Ilya’s lips lingered against his forehead, “No, I don’t think you do.” Ilya pulled himself off the couch. He stretched his hands above his head and Shane appreciated the view blatantly. Ilya’s eyes darkened. “Come. We must shower. I remind you again that you are mine and that I am ruined for everyone else. We have more orgasms. Many, if all goes well. Yes?” He reached a hand down and Shane took it, allowing himself to be pulled up. He leaned into Ilya’s warmth, kissing his chest through his tee-shirt as he nodded.
Shane couldn’t change his past. He couldn’t change Ilya’s. And, he supposed, he wouldn’t want to anyway. He loved Ilya for who he was just as Ilya loved Shane for everything that he was. Ilya, like Shane, clearly had a jealous streak. It made Shane feel less crazy. As he allowed himself to be led to the bedroom by the hand, he thought about how lucky he was. Ilya Rozanov was his, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.