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“I can’t get my hair right. We are staying in if I can’t get it right, Shane.”
Shane sighed softly from their walk-in, as an answer to his husband, who at this point had been playing with his hair with an ungodly amount of gel in front of their bathroom mirror for the last 20 minutes.
Ilya started grunting at his reflection, mumbling something in Russian Shane couldn’t quite understand from a distance. On top of it, he was now openly laughing at Ilya’s growing frustration.
“We have to go, we are both presenting an award. You look great.”
“I can’t just look great, I need hot.” His accent emphasizing ‘hot’.
Shane thought to himself, when did he not look hot? He looked hot taking the trash out for god’s sake.
Once Shane finished adjusting his cuff links, he slowly walked to the en-suite bathroom, ready to assess the hair damages he’s been hearing about for the last half-hour. Shane almost stopped breathing at the sight of Ilya, who was looking at him with a questioning expression, awaiting his opinion.
“Oh. Ilya.”
His hair was partly slicked back, still highlighting his golden curls, stylishly falling on the other side of his face, and all the way to the back of his long thick neck. Shane wanted to bite the specific spot between the neck and the back his golden curls were caressing.
He realized he had been staring wordlessly when Ilya lightly raised his brows, still eyeing him, and timidly asked
“So? Not great huh?”
“Ilya. Fuck…you look…very hot.”
“You sure? I want to slick the curls down but this shitty gel…” Ilya picked up the tub of gel he’d been using generously, looking at it like it personally offended him, and Shane couldn’t stop himself from closing the distance between his body & his husband’s, politely touching the styled hair. It was drying softly but still felt a little bit stiff.
“No! Stop messing with it. It looks... perfect. Tamed & wild at the same time… I love it” Shane’s gaze kept bouncing from the curls to Ilya’s face.
“If you keep looking at me like that Hollander, I’m keeping you here…” Ilya’s hands slid down to his waist, grabbing him possessively. It made Shane giggle like a teenager.
“Stop flirting”
“Why?” Russian accent peaking through every time Ilya got turned on. His w’s turning into v’s. Shane almost purred under his touch.
“We have things to do. You cannot just keep me in bed all summer”
“Yes I can. I have very sexy husband, who also finds me very sexy. Is my duty to remind him how sexy we are when both of us are naked.” Ilya used his low voice, knowing it made Shane all mushy and pliant.
Ilya started kissing his jaw, all the way down to his chin. Just innocent kisses, both of them knowing they never needed much to heat things up.
“Ilya.”
“…Shane” he answered provocatively.
“We have to go.”
“You look fucking good in your suit Моя любовь.” Ilya planted a long sensual kiss on his husband’s lips. Humming by the end of it.
Shane was wearing an Armani suit he’d actually been looking forward to putting on. A white silk shirt that was perfectly tailored to his athlete measurements, black pants that admittedly made his legs and ass look incredible. His personal shopper, Veronica, really struck gold with this one. He remembered the sales assistant whistling at him when he tried it on during their appointment. He paired it with a black suit jacket, left unbuttoned in order to appreciate the silk fabric under, with gold cufflinks & necklace.
He looked good. Wealthy. Like he had great taste. He couldn’t claim any credit on the outfit, he had no interest in fashion, but had to admit: he was pulling it off.
“Thank you. But you won’t trick me into bed”
“We don’t need bed…” Ilya grabbed his ass under the suit jacket, pulling Shane so close to his chest he could feel the vibration of his voice on his body. Fuck.
“Ilya…”
Ilya kept kneading his husband’s ass with his large hands, ignoring Shane’s feeble threats.
“I just want to enjoy my husband before everybody else gets to.”
He kissed the inside of Shane’s neck, inhaling his expensive cologne. God he smelled so goddamn good. Amber, wood and musk. He wanted to lick him. Shane shuddered at the touch of his lips, moaning shyly.
“Let’s just get it over with…if we-Ilya! Fuck. If we can, let’s cut the afterparty short and come home. Maybe we can even try that new fancy lube you got us…”
Ilya groaned in his neck, making him laugh openly. They both were almost hard in their pants, but also knew they actually had to go to this stupid award ceremony. Contractually obligated to, actually.
“Shane Hollander-Rozanov…You are killing me.” Shane giggled some more. He wasn’t sure he would eventually get used to his married name. It all still seemed so surreal, although they had been married for two years now.
Shane slightly pushed himself out of the blond man’s chest, looking at him up and down. Admiring how fucking hot he looked. He looked back at his focused, desire-filled deep blue eyes. Shane had to bite his lip to try to ground himself.
“Come on hot stuff. Put your jacket on. Car’s supposed to pick us up at 6.”
“Mmh. One kiss before we leave. пожалуйста…” Shane had no reason to refuse this 6’3 perfect model-looking man he called his husband, and locked his lips passionately on his. It was a deep, loving kiss that made Shane weak in the knees, even after 12 years of loving this man. Ilya’s hand was around the back of his neck, not pushing or pressuring, just holding him steady. Grounded. Present. Damn, it was so good. Every time.
They parted, both of them a little breathless, trying to compose themselves before being in public, trying not to act feral for each other. Ugh. It was going to be a long night.
Ilya eventually joined him downstairs, looking straight out of a magazine. He was dressed in a pinstripe black suit, low neck black long-sleeve underneath it, showcasing his strong broad shoulders. No cufflinks for him, but an expensive Audemars Piguets watch peeking through his left sleeve. Ilya strongly believed watches should exclusively remain European made. Shane didn’t care to argue when Ilya made it look like he was born to wear them.
Shane finished dropping Anya’s refill of water on the ground, and looked back at his husband. Breathtaking.
“…What?” Ilya asked, smiling confidently.
“Nothing. You just… Ugh. Let’s just go.” Shane knew he was smiling stupidly, and probably not making sense. Ilya’s demeanour made it seem like he understood it all though. Shane thought he saw a faint pink in his husband’s cheeks.
“Let’s go Mr. Trouble” Ilya said, reaching his large hand toward his Canadian champion. Shane beamed back at him, and they exited their home hand in hand.
✨
By the time they were both awaiting their turn on the red carpet for the mandatory photoshoot before entering the ceremony building, the air was different between the couple. Ilya was keeping a close eye on Shane, while Farah, their agent, was checking her phone and talking about who she’d like the both of them to meet tonight. Ilya tuned her out, assessing his husband's mood.
Shane was anxious. He could see it by the tension in his shoulders, how his eyes kept moving between the guests behind them, waiting in line for their own turn, and the sea of photographers yelling different posing directions towards the guests. Shane started chewing on his bottom lip, with an anxious heat rising from the skin under his sexy silk white shirt, all the way up to his neck and plump cheeks.
Ilya bent down to his ear, slowly sliding his hand from the start of his husband's spine all the way down to his lower back. Applying pressure through the layers of clothes to make sure Shane could feel it through his back muscles.
“Моя любовь…” He said close to his ear. Shanes leaned into his hand, exhaling some of the stress clinging to his body. Ilya continued to talk to him softly in his ear, creating their own bubble.
“Here’s the plan, we are going to walk on this stupid cheap carpet, and remind them we still hold the record of the most Stanley rings together.” Shane let out a weak laugh through his teeth. “I’m going to keep my hands on you the whole time. I’m not letting go of you, you can give me all the anxiety filling you up right now. Shane?”
Shane looked up at him through his lashes. His eyebrows were furrowed but he was listening. Focusing all his attention on his husband’s commanding voice, talking him off the edge.
“Give it to me. Your stress is mine now…And so are you. You are mine and it’s just us.” Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand, interlocking his fidgety fingers through his, holding tight. So tight it was almost painful, grounding Shane into reality. Into now. Their bubble. Theirs only.
Farah, who understood the intimacy of the moment, walked a bit ahead of them, talking to one of the red carpet coordinators about god knows what.
Ilya kissed his husband’s temple, feeling the beat of his heart slow down under his lips. Shane hummed peacefully under his touch, and looked back at him with a soft smile.
“Thank you” Ilya answered with a devastatingly bright smile that made Shane’s heart skip a beat. After all these years, he would never find the appropriate words to describe how grateful he was to be loved by such a caring soul. He knew the world didn’t see him as he did. He was the ice brute, feared by teams across the NHL, for being violent, mean and way too good for his own self on the rink. People thought he was a stereotypical, cold-hearted Russian, a womanizing prick who would curse at and probably flirt with your mom, depending on how he felt about you that day.
To Shane, Ilya was maybe all that.
No reason to ignore that Ilya could be an asshole, but the man he married was also the person who knew how to take care of him, even when Shane didn’t know what he needed. The person that made him feel the safest he’s ever been, cared and adored every minute of everyday, almost since they met over a decade ago. The man who carefully read the label of every piece of fabric that he wanted to purchase for their house, because he knew that Shane’s skin couldn’t handle anything less than 70% cotton. The man who called the hotels they would stay in ahead of time, to ensure they had sugar-free Ginger Ale in their room’s mini bar ahead of time.
The man who took a deep tissue massage course in order to take care of Shane’s sore muscles during the season, because he noticed Shane had been having a harder time letting anybody but medical staff touch his skin for the last two years.
That was the man he married.
Farah called their names, notifying them it was their turn on the red carpet. Ilya didn’t move until Shane met his eyes and nodded gently. That’s all Shane was thinking about when posing in front of the cameras with blinding flashes. He could barely hear the shouting in front of him from the sea of photographers, asking him to look left, right and everything in the middle.
He felt Ilya’s hands on his lower back the whole time, turned around to gaze into his eyes smiling honestly toward him. Ilya covered him with adoring eyes. Yes, that was his husband.
✨
The ceremony started, they sat together, Ilya’s hand warm on Shane’s thigh, covered by the Canadian’s hand. They laughed awkwardly at the badly written jokes of the different hosts, and only got up when it was their time to get ready for them to present the Sportsmanship award.
Before their turn in front of the cameras, Shane planted a kiss on his husband’s lips on the side of the stage. Surprising the captain. “What was that for?”
“Good luck kiss. For the nerves.” Ilya laughed softly, his eyes shining in the dark of the backstage lighting. They got their walk-in cue from the stage coordinator, and walked together in the light of the stage.
The rest of the night was kind of a long blur for both of them. Meeting with old and new teammates, friends in other minor leagues and business associates wanting to pitch the next collaboration with either, or both of them.
A couple of champagne glasses in, Shane was able to relax enough to actually feel at ease and sociable, never straining far from his husband who navigated the crowd with frankly, enervating ease.
The Centaurs captain was cracking jokes and confidently talking to whoever was approaching him, even tapping some of the guys on their backs while laughing loudly in unison. Shane admired him from the corner of his eyes, while trying to concentrate on the conversation he was attempting to have with a particularly enthusiastic sales & brand executive of a very famous energy drink.
“…We could really lean in on the new women’s demographic hockey is reaching right now. Some sexy photoshoots, lots of water, bare chest. As comfortable as you are!” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and fixated his eyes on Shane’s lips. “We are willing to meet you…where you are.”
Shane felt a weird tug in his chest, understanding the conversation was stirring in a different direction. He unconsciously touched the inside of his wedding ring with his thumb, and tried to think of a polite way to move the conversation back a few notches.
“Well my agent, Farrah, could take your contact info and hmm-” He started, looking around the room trying to find the brunette in the sea of people. Where the hell was she? His heartbeat was rising a bit.
”I think we could come to an initial agreement together, couldn’t we, Mr. Hollander?”
Before he could answer, he felt familiar hands grabbing his waist with insistence.
“It’s Mr. Hollander-Rozanov, actually.” Ilya picked up, leaving Shane’s mouth open.
Shane felt a swoop in his stomach. All of a sudden, Ilya was by his side, solid, looking dashing in his black suit, curls still intact. He downed the last of his vodka on the rocks — the vodka selection was apparently appropriate at this open bar, and plastered a mysterious smile on his face, his now dangerous icy blue eyes piercing through the sales rep. It was the same look Ilya had when crouching for a face-off he knew he was going to win.
Shane hid an amused smile, feeling an exciting shiver down his spine, ending where his husband’s hand was meeting his body.
”Of course, my apologies Mr. Hollander-Rozanov, I simply meant that if you are interested in a collaboration with our brand, we would really make it worth your time and investment…” insisted the sales rep, who, despite talking to Shane, couldn’t help but send some furtive, almost scared looks at the 6 '3, +200 lbs blond man pinning him down with his eyes.
Ilya put his empty glass on the cocktail table next to them, without his eyes leaving the now clearly embarrassed executive.
He continued “I’m sure you cannot possibly expect my husband to agree on such a commitment at the after-party of an award ceremony. Mmh? That’s not very… Professional” His accent accentuating the ‘r’ in the last word.
“No-sure, of course. I mean…That’s — my mistake Mr. Hollander-Rozanov. How can we—” the rep tried to save face, Ilya cutting him further “How about you try to find our agent in the crowd, or on google, like a professional, and give her a call.”
Not awaiting an answer, Ilya turned toward Shane, who was enjoying the passive aggressive exchange with a little embarrassed smile on his face. “My love, are you ready for another round of drinks? I want to see you enjoy yourself.”
Shane couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the plain confidence and possessiveness in his husband’s tone, as if there was nobody else in the room.
“Yes, Ilya. I’d like another champagne glass.” he nodded.
Ilya bent slightly toward his face and kissed him on the lips, staying a beat longer than necessary. He separated, and said to him, “Then you shall have it,” already guiding them to the open bar in the middle of the room.
Shane just had the time to throw a “It was nice meeting you, Mr.—” before realizing he had forgotten the man’s name. All his attention back to his husband, who successfully made him dizzy with need, in the span of 4 minutes.
✨
Somehow, an hour later, they ended up making out in one of the dark corners of the after party. They were both deliciously tipsy after several drinks, a few rounds of shots with other players, and some heavy, heavy public flirting. They may or may not have made a few of their peers uncomfortable, but were too tipsy to care.
As much as Shane wanted to be shy about it, the last of his inhibitions disappeared as the drinks kept flowing through him, and his husband’s hands kept testing the limit between affectionate touch and inappropriate groping.
Now they were fully, sloppily grabbing, kissing and panting in each other’s mouths.
“Ilya… Fuck, everybody can see us” Ilya’s mouth slid in his neck, pushing him further into the wall behind them. Shane's head spun, feeling everything from the drinks, making him clumsy, his husband's hot body pressing him, his hands in the back of his damp silk shirt, his tongue sliding on the thick vein on his neck, and the vibration of the wall on his back. It was too fucking much and somehow, not enough.
“Then let them see… I know you can show them the good boy you are for me all the time”.
Shane melted further under the praise. Ilya knew what it did to him, and he was clearly pushing all of his buttons. The hand in the back of his shirt lowered down to the start of his ass, one finger slightly pushing into the crease of his ass.
“Ilya—oh my god” He felt Ilya’s devilish smile on his sticky skin.
“Should I take you home mой грязный котенок?” Shane's fuzzy mind recognized the familiar words ‘dirty kitten’ and he whimpered, holding on to the hem of Ilya’s black shirt. He pushed the hem down trying to get Ilya closer. He needed him closer, both of their suits felt like too much, he wanted to feel Ilya’s soft skin on his, and bite his thick arms. He knew he was whining like a baby but he couldn’t find the mental clarity to care.
”Please, I need you” Shane was trying his very best to not fall into the well of pleasure his husband was rapidly attempting to swallow both of them into. He needed to stay sane enough to exit this fucking party without losing all decorum. Or the last of the decorum they had.
“Mmh, we could find a bathroom…”
Shane’s heart skipped a bit at the thought of getting bent over in a random bathroom, a few feet away from his peers. His already stiff dick twitched in his too-tight pants.
“I want….I want—” Shane was really trying to remind himself how to talk but the music somehow got louder, Ilya’s lips were sucking his earlobe, and his husband’s body was crowding him in, tucking them both into their little corner of lust, making Shane somehow feel small in the best way.
”Да, скажи мне, мой котенок…” Ilya murmured in his ear, wet lips touching his shell.
“I— please take me home and fuck me in our bed. I want you, I want us.” Ilya groaned on his hot cheek. Ilya felt possessive of him all night, reminding everybody they met that Shane was his husband. Making married jokes, using affectionate names like « baby » or « my love » at every turn. His hands stayed on his waist, or the small of his back, all night.
Shane needed to finally be swallowed whole by his man.
”Fuck, Shane.” Ilya’s hand grabbed Shane's face, and planted a hot nasty kiss on his lips. Pushing his tongue in his partner’s mouth. Ilya’s hand travelled from his face to the back of his neck, angling their faces to deepen the kiss, his thumb deliciously rubbing the back of his ear. Shane melted further in his husband’s arms, moaning loudly in his mouth.
“Let’s get out of here.” his husband's voice had the same tone as when he was giving orders to his teammates. Commanding, firm. All captain-like. It made Shane’s head fuzzy with desire. He needed to hear this tone soon while he was inside of him, or he would probably die. Consumed by need.
Ilya gave him one last hot kiss, more chaste, trying to lower the pressure between them. He slowly but expertly took his other hand out from his husband’s pants, adjusting Shane’s black suit jacket that was somehow still hanging on, his gaze on his Shane’s wrecked face. Shane’s half opened eyes were glassy, cheeks rosy, his freckles like constellations over a pink sunset, lips puffy and deep red under the dark lights. His chest was breathing hard, a sheen of sweat covering the exposed skin under his half open white silk shirt.
He looked like a playboy model, and Ilya had to use all of his mighty control not to drag him to the nearest bathroom and fuck him senseless.
“Fuck, you look so good baby. So fucking good. I need to ruin you.” Shane closed his eyes and whined some more, his hands up on Ilya’s chest trying to stay grounded in reality.
Ilya took his attention away from his husband for a minute, in order to put himself back together, adjusting his fully hard dick in his pants, and under his pinstripe suit jacket.
“Ok, let’s get out of here.” Kissing Shane’s knuckles before grabbing his hand to navigate him out of this party.
Shane was barely present, following his husband's fast pace out of the crowd. A few players and other NHL executives tried to pull them into pockets of conversations, but Ilya dismissed every single one of them with polite authority. He was a man on a mission. All Shane had the capacity to do, was to smile absently at whoever made eye contact with him, and followed in the steps of his husband.
The chilly air of the summer night hit them once they were out, Ilya exchanged some quick words with the valet, probably trying to get their driver. Shane stood back a little, hands still wrapped in Ilya’s. He tried to take a big breath to calm his entire fucking body, and collect his mind a bit.
They would be home soon. They were in public. He was Shane Hollander-Rozanov. He needed to act accordingly. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath.
« Hey » He felt Ilya’s body close to his, his other hand moving a strand of hair away from his forehead with a softness that contrasted with the intensity of their bodies against each other 5 min ago. Shane leaned into it « You ok ? »
Shane opened his eyes and met Ilya’s worried gaze. His eyebrows were furrowed, he could almost hear his brain working, trying to assess Shane’s mood & cues. He loved him so fucking much.
“I’m perfect. You are perfect. Get us home.” Shane closed the gap between them, pushing his hands through his husband's curls. He’s been fighting the urge to pull on them since they left their bathroom a few hours ago.
Ilya groaned and turned his face in Shane’s hand to kiss his wrist. His hand moved from the Asian man's hair all the way down his waist, cupping the side of his ass and pushing him toward his hips.
Shane moaned in his mouth again, feeling Ilya's hard-on through his suit.
« Fuck. »
Ilya laughed on his lips « Da… Feel how much I want you sweetheart? »
Shane couldn’t answer because his mind was falling back into the syrupy abyss he just escaped a minute ago.
Their black Escalade slowly pulled up in front in the private parking lot of the venue. Ilya silently shifted into action, opening the back door for Shane before the valet could reach.
Shane didn’t hesitate and climbed into the lofty SUV, blurting a little yelping sound when Ilya smacked his ass as his back was turned to him.
« Ilya! »
He didn’t get an answer, the door closing loudly once they were both in the vehicle.
The driver didn’t speak, just taking a glance back, waiting on both players to be settled in their seats before starting the engine again.
Ilya didn’t waste any time invading Shane’s personal space, sliding on the black leather seat, and putting his hand on the top of his husband’s thighs. Shane instinctively opened his legs, welcoming the touch. Ilya pushed a deeply approving sound through his lips, appreciating the reflex reaction.
Shane’s cheeks flushed a bit at his barely hidden desire for his husband. Ilya took it as an invitation to go further, kissing the side of his ear & starting to go lower on the side of his neck. “I watched you getting hit on all fucking night, in your slutty little shirt.” Ilya sucked his sensitive spot between his ear and his neck, his thumb rubbing his right nipple between his shirt and his suit jacket. Shane gasped and arched his back.
Shane threw a look at the rear view mirror though his daze, trying to assess how much of that the driver saw. He quickly caught his eyes, watching them basically humping each other in the backseat and quickly going back to the road when their eyes met.
Shane felt a twinge of guilt and embarrassment growing in his chest.
« Ilya » he hesitated « We are—Ah—! We’re not alone— »
« I don’t care » with a thick Russian accent in his mouth, he answered without hesitation. He could hear how eager he was in his voice. Shane loved how confident his husband was, never ashamed of what he wanted and whoever was watching him while attempting to get it. He was so free with his desires, and when it came to Shane, always loud with his passion for him. And fuck, that turned him on.
Ilya’s hand was moving on his chest, and Shane had no choice but to turn his body toward the captain, and open-mouth kiss him. Filthy noises were coming out of their mouths, panting and soft moaning in the backseat of the SUV. Ilya pushed him almost all the way down the backseat, stopping Shane from laying down completely with a hand on his back, holding him with ease. He didn’t stop exploring his mouth for one second. Shane wasn’t sure he even remembered his own name at this point. His entire body was pulsating, all thoughts focused on his husband's relentless foreplay.
At some point, the driver put the radio on, and it made them both laugh at the obvious attempt to drown their noise.
« Tell me мой котенок, what should I start with. This? » Ilya slid another hand down his pants, groping Shane’s hard dick in his large hand, provoking a barely disguised scream from Shane. « Or this? » his hand moved to grab a handful of his soft ass, intently pushing toward the middle of his crease.
« Fuck— Ilya, whatever you fucking want »
Ilya laughed with arrogance, “Такая хорошая шлюха для меня…” and kissed him harder, grabbing his ass with so much force it almost hurt. Shane met his hands with a hip roll he barely was conscious of, thoughts fleeting at the idea of seeing Ilya’s finger bruises on his skin later tonight.
Shane had no fucking idea how much time passed in the back of this car, his mind blurred by Ilya dirty talking him to delirium, telling him softly all the things he promised to do to him the minute they crossed their front door. His own hands somehow ended up on his husband's abs, gliding his fingers under hard muscles, contracting under his touch. He wanted to take their fucking clothes off and bite them.
Ilya turned his neck toward the driver, letting Shane kiss his exposed neck, feeling his hands travel to his curls.
“How far are we?”
The driver took a beat before understanding that the question was directed to him, he quickly took a look at the rearview mirror to confirm it was indeed addressed to him, then checked the GPS “Hum—Just 3 min, Sir.”
Satisfied with the answer, he turned his attention back to the squirming, dashing man under him, who just took a bite of the side of his neck, hard enough to make it hurt. Ilya’s dick got harder —if that was possible, in between his legs.
“Плохой, плохой котенок…” Shane chuckled in his neck. Ilya was having a very hard time remaining in control of the situation. Shit, was he? Because they had been fore-playing in public for the last hour and Ilya couldn’t think straight enough to ponder on the possible consequences of that. Not after Shane looked this fucking good all night long, and not when he was gripping Ilya with this much urgency. All his clear thoughts were making up scenarios to make Shane tear up and beg for him to let him come again and again, hopefully in multiple places in their house. But for that they needed to be home.
Shane bit him again, near his clavicule. Ilya closed his eyes, focusing on not coming in his pants like a teenager. Fuck.
The car finally rolled to a soft stop, and he was barely able to string two actions together, overwhelmed by Shane’s wet lips on his neck still, squirming under his hand. His skin felt almost feverish, and he could swear he was trembling. He needed him in bed. or on the couch. Or kitchen island. Or fuck it, the fucking floor.
”We are home, baby.” Shane stilled and protested, too disoriented to be able to have logical reactions. Ilya pushed them both upward, gripping to the last bit of control and sense clinging to his fucked up brain. He dug into his back pocket, trying to find some bills — “Aha!”
He threw a couple hundreds on the center console, mumbling a barely-there “Thanks, man”. He knew he —they, have been less than polite clients. Hoping a generous tip will keep the driver from being traumatized.
He pushed the door open, stepping outside right in front of their gated, upscale house, holding Shane’s hand in his. He was indeed trembling, and seemed unable to formulate full sentences. His breathing was short, and his voice weak. Once they were both out, looking wrecked and dishevelled, Ilya firmly guided them to the front door. He unlocked the door with shivering fingers. He entered the wrong code twice. Ilya shook his head, with a wry laugh, and tried again, letting muscle memory do the job.
The door made a familiar noise, and Ilya pushed them inside, Shane stuck to his back breathing heavier and heavier.
Before they could close the door, Shane jumped in his arms, open mouth kissing him. It was filthy, full of need. Ilya caught him just in time, locking his arms under his thick thighs and carrying him toward the nearest surface available. He heard Anya softly barking and pleading for attention in the background, but could not physically detach himself from Shane.
He pushed Shane’s ass on the front door console, the key bowl and some other decor items fell to the floor, cracking and breaking.
“Fuck”
Shane pushed himself off of Rozanov just enough to be able to take off his suit jacket, Ilya took the moment to do the same. They looked at each other with the same twinkle in their eyes. Furious heat, and pure lust. The moment felt suspended in time, their breathing synching, desire almost palpable in the air between their two bodies. The moment the jackets were off, their bodies met brutally again. Shane’s hands went straight in between them, slipping in the tight fit of Ilya’s pants and slid down the length of his husband's hard cock.
Ilya saw white for a second, and buckled against Shane’s hand, gritting out through his teeth “дерьмо!” Shane licked Ilya’s ear and said with the sweetest, surprisingly clear and deep voice “Ilya, I need you to fuck me, hard. Now.”
Any self control left in Ilya unravelled right in this moment. The next seconds were primal, almost violent, with little words shared between them. Their pace only slowed down when Ilya was deep inside his husband, sprawled on the large living room table like the most beautiful offering. Ilya wanted Shane to feel it. To feel his appetite, devotion, hunger for him.
”ha- Ilya, Ilya—Fuck, baby please” Shane was barely making sense, his throat dry and voice weak. His hands were digging through Ilya’s shoulders, for sure leaving marks. His back was arched so high, head swinging back and forth on the wooden table. Ilya’s eyes were locked on his husband's gorgeous face in full bliss, his lips swollen double their size, wet streaks of saliva & sweat covering his upper neck, his hair messy around his flushed face. Ilya swallowed hard, heart twisting in his inflamed chest.
Ilya hooked one of Shane’s legs on his shoulder, and pushing himself harder in the delicious warmth of him, knowing he was right on the spot that made him—
“FUC—SHIT” Shane screamed, bolting up, all his muscles contracting and pulling Ilya closer to him. Ilya groaned, almost painfully at the amount of sensations running through his body right now. He tried to breathe through it.
“Да, sweetheart don’t hide from me, take it... I want it all. Give it all to me.” Shane just whimpered more, his eyes rolling and small tears peaking through the corner of his eyes. Ilya kissed the wet drops, using his other hand to hold the top of Shane’s head, encasing him completely, and pushing his hips harder into him, in a frantic messy rhythm, deep into his husband, knowing he was losing all his senses as the seconds went by.
It was so good it almost hurt Ilya’s entire body. His brain was mush, and he needed everything Shane was willing to give him. He needed to see him absolutely fucking shattered for him. By him. Needing it more than he needed to breathe right now.
The new angle made Shane openly cry in pleasure, his toes curled, feet so tense they were shaking. He didn’t know where he started and Ilya finished. He couldn’t really hear himself in their gigantic living room, feeling in and out of his body at the same time. His mind focused on the nasty sounds of Ilya’s hips and pelvis hitting his sore ass. It was wet, hard and loud. The table was slightly dragging on the floorboard, suffering under both their weight. So fucking lewd. His attention was pulled away by his husband’s voice, breathless in his ear.
“I’m all yours Shane. You fucking got me, body and soul moy kotenok. All fucking yours.” Truth shining through the strained voice of his husband, breath hitching in between strokes.
Shane’s last connection to reality snapped, the molten knot in his belly bursting, blacking out when he came, untouched between their bodies, his hands deep in his husband's curls, screaming his name. He felt his husband follow seconds behind him, cursing loudly in Russian. The noise echoed in the entire house.
✨
They woke up the day after, tangled to each other in their massive king bed, bright light falling on their skin and bedroom furniture. Both naked, their massive athletic bodies sprawled in a mess of sheets, sweat and the smell of sex dancing around them still. The buzzing of their phones pulled them out of their slow, cozy morning bliss, their bodies exhausted by multiple orgasms, athletic sex, and a consequential hangover.
“Mmhleaveit” Ilya groaned when he felt Shane attempting to move from the pile of limbs they were both lost in.
“Might be m’parents —We, ah fuck my head. We’re supposed to have dinner with them ‘member?” Shane was definitely losing his voice, and needed an Advil. Stat. 400 mg. And electrolytes.
Ilya groaned more. Shane haphazardly padded the side table hoping to make contact with one of their phones. He finally brought the still buzzing engine in front of his face.
“Shit. My eyes hurt” he complained the minute the bright digital screen shone in front of his face. Ilya laughed softly around him. Shane tried to kick him but couldn’t find the strength.
After a few seconds, Ilya could feel Shane tense up under him, pulling himself from the sleepy haze he was attempting to stay in “What baby?”
“Ilya… fuck, Ilya…”
Ilya was immediately pulled from any remainder of sleep in his body, pushing himself on his elbows, looking at Shane’s horrified face. He felt his stomach drop —although it might be the few vodkas he downed last night. He will never admit that. Shane was frozen in place, looking at his phone, the only thing moving was his thumb scrolling down slowly on the too-bright screen.
“Shane… you are scaring me” Shane opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Ilya softly grabbed the phone from his fingers, finding no resistance.
He tried adjusting his vision, rubbing one of his eyes while bringing the screen towards him.
Oh.
He was looking at an article on TMZ, with multiple paparazzi pictures of them making out in the parking lot of the ceremony’s venue, then more blurry pictures of their tangled bodies in the back of the SUV last night.
No doubt what was going on: full-on PDA and everything but sex. Ilya scrolled back at the top of the article to read the title “HOLLANDER-ROZANOV COUPLE CAUGHT GETTING HOT & HEAVY AT THE MAJOR HOCKEY LEAGUE AWARDS (MHLA) ON SATURDAY NIGHT”
Well. There was that. Ilya couldn’t help himself but let an honest chuckle escape his throat, immediately met by Shane’s hand slapping him hard on his shoulder.
“Thats NOT funny! I’m humiliated!” Shane’s face was slightly pale, and torn with a mix of guilt and shame. Ilya closed the phone away, and fought the soreness in his legs to crawl and wrap his hands around the chest of his mortified husband.
“Shane…”
“My parents are going to see this! ALL THE TEAM! Oh my god the coach—” Shane was barely breathing, Ilya could see his brain working faster than the words could leave his mouth.
“Shane.” Ilya’s voice was calm and deep. Shane looked down at him, his mouth still open, ready to go again.
“Shane… Nothing is wrong. We are out. We are married. We have sex. We are adults. Yes, being celebrities or whatever makes all this a little more…” he glanced at the phone still buzzing between the white sheets “… public” he finished. Shane lifted an eyebrow, a clear “no shit” written all over his face. Ilya ignored it.
“But baby…” Ilya pushed himself off his strong arms, his face right in front of his husband. “No amount of TMZ articles will stop me from loving you out loud.”
Shane rolled his eyes, trying and failing not to blush at the very corny words of his husband, but before he could say anything, Ilya pushed his lips onto his, wrapping his arms around his shoulders pushing both of them back down into their tangled sheets.
He wasn’t sure he would be able to live through his family and friends’ jokes in the following hours, days and months — probably. But fuck. If any of them were married to Ilya Rozanov, they’d let him (almost) fuck them in the back of car too.
“Stop thinking мой котенок. I’m about to eat you out.”
And just like that, Shane forgot all about the blurry pictures for a few minutes.