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Svetlana's birthday party was a huge thing. A club filled to the brim, music blasting, a theme of sparkles and gold.
Shane liked Svetlana, he really did. She was fun, they could talk about hockey for hours. And she was fiercely loyal to Ilya, something Shane really appreciated. She was also the only person who could roast him even more than Shane.
Once she became Ilya's manager her and Shane got closer, and he introduced her to Rose, only for the two of them to start dating after only two weeks.
So, at the party attended by over a hundred guests, Shane knew a grand total of three people. His fiance, his fiance's manager, and said manager's girlfriend, who also happened to be his friend.
That didn't really bother him, since he kept close to the three of them at all times. Ilya wouldn't let go of him, and Svetlana wouldn't let go of Ilya or Rose, so they moved through the whole thing together.
After dancing for a while, they found themselves at the bar, Ilya ordering a round of some specific shots he and Svetlana always did on her birthday, when someone in the crowd started making his way towards them.
Shane didn't think much of it, probably just another guest looking for the birthday girl, but the guy gave Svetlana a side hug and directed all of his attention to Ilya.
Svetlana told him something in sharp Russian, Shane couldn't hope to catch it over the loud music and his still minimal vocabulary.
"Sasha." She warned when the man clearly didn't listen.
Ilya's eyes was off the bartender and on them in a second, the name drawing his attention.
"Ilyushenka." Sasha flashed a smile and grabbed Ilya by the shoulders, kissing his cheeks three times before pulling away.
Ilya didn't return the gesture, and once Sasha let go he wrapped an arm around Shane's waist.
Svetlana cringed at the nickname. "Since when do you call him that?"
Shane had the same question. Svetlana often used 'Ilyusha', but the nickname Sasha had used was even more embellished.
"Sasha." Ilya said, not entirely flat, like when he talked to the press, but not the way he talked to someone close either.
After ordering himself a drink and exchanging aa few words in Russian with his friends, Sasha went back to the dancefloor.
It should've been left at that, or at least Shane hoped it would. He really didn't care about Ilya's body count, but for seeing Sasha unnerved him.
Perhaps it was simply because Sasha wasn't some random girl who was photographed with Ilya in a club, or a rumour sparked by a paparazzi shot. Sasha had a name, and now a face.
A handsome face, a lean body, and eyes that seemed to find Ilya for the rest of the night.
Every time Shane relaxed again, as much as he could relax in such a crowded and loud space, he would spot Sasha, who's eyes would always be fixated on Ilya. His Ilya. His fiance. His future husband.
"Shane." Ilya's voice snapped him out of a daze. "I said I'm going to the toilet, you okay alone for a bit?"
"Yeah." Shane nodded, stealing a quick kiss out of habit. "Don't worry, I can be alone for a bit."
"We'll take care of him." Rose laughed.
Only when Ilya let go of him did Shane notice that his fiance's hands had been on him pretty much from the moment they got there. He felt kind of exposed all of a sudden.
"Don't worry about Sasha." Svetlana told him. "He's not bad, just mean."
"He seems like a dick to me." Rose frowned.
"He is." Svetlana admitted. "Especially when he drinks."
Shane rolled his eyes. "That's comforting."
"He better not make a scene on your birthday." Rose found the man in question in the crowd, making his way over to the bar.
Svetlana chuckled and brushed the concern off, then looked back at Shane. "Ilya only has eyes for you."
Shane nodded. He wasn't questioning Ilya's loyalty, it never even crossed his mind. What bothered him was simply the knowledge that Sasha was looking at his fiance the way he was.
Shane Hollander wasn't chill. He wasn't chill about his routine, or about the state of his home, or about hockey, or about anything else he was interested in. He definitely wasn't chill about someone eye fucking his fiance.
He realized that he couldn't find Sasha in the crowd anymore, but he spotted Ilya making his way back. Except Ilya looked angry, and there was Sasha, walking behind him and clearly trying to get his attention.
"Pizdets blyat." Svetlana mumbled once she saw it.
As soon as he was close enough, Ilya pulled Shane towards himself, one arm around his waist, kissed his temple, resulting in Sasha commenting something about it.
Suddenly, rapid fire Russian was being exchanged, and all Shane and Rose could do was look at each other with confusion.
Judging by the tone of the conversation, and by the way Ilya's hold on his waist didn't let up, whatever was happening about wasn't friendly conversation anymore.
"Okay." Rose cut in after a while, pulling Svetlana towards herself. "Whatever this is and whoever you are, you're ruining the mood. And you can't ruin my girlfriend's mood on her birthday."
Sasha snorted in a laugh, then quipped something to Svetlana, which caused Ilya to shove him and Svetlana to start cursing him out.
"Wow." Sasha held up his hands in surrender. "So easy to be angry. Like I don't know you at all."
"You don't." Ilya deadpanned.
"And he does?"
Ilya was likely about to punch him for that, but held himself back for Svetlana's sake.
"Go get fucked, Sasha." Svetlana snapped.
"Trying." Sasha looked at Ilya pointedly.
"What makes you think I will not punch you in the face?" Ilya asked.
Shane suddenly realized he hadn't said a damn thing the whole time, and realized it probably made him look extremely passive.
Still not wanting to start fights, he took Ilya's hand and pulled him towards the balcony. "Come on, I want some fresh air."
"Excellent idea. I want another drink." Rose took Svetlana's hand and lead her towards the bar, leaving Sasha alone.
There weren't many people on the balcony, a couple of smokers and someone trying very hard not to throw up over the railing, but the balcony was big enough to stay away from all of those people.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know he would be here." Ilya sighed. "This probably looks very bad."
"You don't have to apologize." Shane lead them into a corner, backing Ilya into it before connecting their lips. "Svetlana said he's not bad, just mean."
"He's sometimes bad." Ilya admitted. "Is not his fault for that, but it is his fault for acting like this tonight."
"Did you two even date or?"
Ilya shook his head. "No. Was just sex. For me at least. He had feelings. It ended ugly."
"So how come he's still so obsessed with you?" Shane leaned his forehead against Ilya's.
"He is not. He is obsessed with who I was in Russia."
Shane gave him a sad look. He knew what that meant. Sasha was never in love with Ilya, not really. He had been in love with the front Ilya had put up.
"Do you want us to go?" Ilya asked, gently cupping Shane's face in his hands and kidding him.
"No. It's your best friend's birthday. I'm not making you miss it."
"We had our own celebration on her actual birthday. She won't mind."
Shane knew that, knew that the two of them had taken the one sports car Ilya had kept, a Ferrari, and gone driving around like they used to when they were younger. They did it on Ilya's birthday too. Shane also knew this was important as well. "I'm serious. I don't mind staying. Just needed to have you like this for a bit."
Ilya smiled, pulling him into a hug. That protective, safe hug he always held Shane in. It was perhaps the most comforting thing in the world, if you asked Shane.
Once back inside, Ilya managed to get him to go dancing for a bit. It wasn't something Shane enjoyed, but he didn't hate it either. And if he loved one thing about it, he loved how much Ilya loved it.
Unlike him, Ilya had a sense of rhythm, so he pretty much lead Shane around the whole time, but Shane wasn't complaining about it. Ilya held him close, peppered kisses along his face and neck, leaned in close to speak directly into Shane's ear, promising to absolutely ruin him once they got back to the hotel.
Just as Shane was about to warn him to not cause a boner out in public, Sasha appeared in his vision again, throwing all arousal out the window.
"When did you get so boring?" Sasha asked, he was dancing with some guy who didn't seem overly interested in anything. "I remember when you used to dance with the whole club. When you were fun."
Ilya rolled his eyes, not letting go of Shane and just barely lifting his lips from his jaw. "Yes, I am boring now. Leave if you are bored."
"I think he made you boring. You lost your edge." Sasha kept going, very clearly trying to rouse a reaction. The guy he had been dancing with left once he realized he was being ignored. "My Ilyushenka would have slapped me for talking like this by now."
Shane couldn't help but snap at the nickname. "You can't tell he doesn't want to talk to you or something?"
"Aha. He speaks." Sasha grinned. "How did you do it? Make Russia's most fun man so boring?"
Ilya's eyes went dark, his old on Shane tightened, then he decided to not acknowledge the man at all. Instead, he looked Shane in the eyes with a teasing smile. "Ignore him. He is jealous because I don't need someone else with you, with him I did."
"So your spark is not dead." Sasha laughed, but Shane could tell it was a sad, hollow kind of laughter. If the guy wasn't being such a prick Shane might've even felt sorry for him. "Boring must be like flue, you catch it from Mr Boring Canadian here."
With a tired sigh, Ilya kissed Shane. "Let me handle this and then I am all yours." With that, he turned to actually face Sasha. "I am going to marry that boring Canadian. I can call him boring, you can't."
"Is that so?" Sasha stepped closer, but Ilya pushed him away.
"Yes. And if it will help you sleep, call me boring. Say I am not fun anymore. I like it. I like that he made me boring. He will not let me smoke because is bad for me, he makes me eat kale because is good for me. And I love it. I love him."
Finally, Sasha seemed a little taken aback. The image of Ilya he had in his head would've never said those things.
Shane couldn't help but smile, because of what Ilya had said but also because he had come so far. Only a year back they were stumbling through communication, barely understanding themselves, let alone one another, and now there they were, confident both in themselves, in each other, and in their love.
They were finally left alone, and spent the rest of the party without anymore awkward situations.
By the time they got back to the hotel, they were barely keeping their hands off of each other. Stumbling through the hotel room, bumping into furniture, scrambling to take off each other's clothes until they finally made it to the bed.
Shane made it a point to leave visible marks, jealousy still burning inside him from earlier. Perhaps not jealousy, that would imply Sasha stood a chance, but rather possessiveness.
He knew Ilya wouldn't even look at somebody else, let alone something further, but the mere idea of someone else wanting Ilya made him possessive.
Of course, Shane knew his fiance was insanely attractive, knew people would always look, knew there were fans who knew nothing about hockey and just liked Ilya because he was hot, not that there was anything inheritly wrong with that.
But fans and random people online were different. That was just an abstract number of likes under a shirtless photo. This had been too real for comfort.
So Shane wanted not only Sasha, but the whole world to see that Ilya fucking Rozanov was his.
"Fucking hell." He muttered when Ilya started working him open, always careful, always just rough enough to make Shane feel it, but not enough for it to cause any actual pain. Still, Shane was on a mission, and he kept sucking bruises into Ilya's neck and shoulders.
"I like you jealous." Ilya groaned, craning his neck slightly to give Shane better access.
"You're - fuck - you're mine. I want everyone to see." Shane's words came out as gasps and moans, but it got his point across.
Ilya chuckled, dragging his fingers across Shane's prostate in order to get out those delicious whimpers he relished so much. "All yours."
"Ye-ah." The word was split into two, and before Shane could say anything else Ilya's fingers were gone. "Wait."
"Something wrong?" Ilya asked, alarmed by the sudden urgent tone of Shane's voice.
"No. Fuck, no, just..." Shane willed himself to lift his head from the crook of Ilya's neck. "I want to ride you."
"Fuck." Ilya quickly changed their position, leaning against the headboard and guiding Shane to straddle his hips. "You are so perfect."
"Tell me." Shane demanded as he slowly lowered himself onto Ilya, breath shuddering and holding onto the other man's shoulders for balance.
Ilya groaned, threw his head back, and took a bruising hold of Shane's hips, guiding him down. "So perfect. Nobody else is even close."
"Jesus. Fuck." Shane moaned, he was fully seated and trying to catch a breath.
"Is okay?" Ilya asked, studying his face for any sign of discomfort. He knew all of Shane's tells, knew how he was feeling by the sounds he made, but he still made sure every time.
"More than okay." Shane chuckled, the movement sending a shock of pleasure up Ilya's spine, and he thrust up just a tiny bit, which made Shane whimper. "Fucking hell."
"No one feels like you." Ilya went on, groaning as Shane started moving. "No one ever felt like you."
"Ilya." Shane moaned over and over, like the name was a prayer.
Ilya was mumbling out a litany of Russian praise words, punctuated by groans and the sound of Shane's name.
Absent mindedly, Shane noted how he couldn't believe he had once run away from the sound. Now hearing his name on Ilya's lips was everything to him.
There he was, the most beautiful man in the world, holding onto Shane for dear life, kissing him, moaning his name, looking at Shane with eyes so full of love it was unbearable.
He was the perfect one, Shane thought. Beautiful and golden and perfect. And he was Shane's.
The thought, paired with Ilya's hand reaching down to stroke Shane's cock, is what sent him over the edge. He made a mess, strings of white all over Ilya's hand and both of their stomachs, and he didn't care. He let himself slump forward into Ilya's hold, moans turning into whimpers of overstimulation, and he loved it.
Ilya didn't last long, he came inside Shane with a broken sound, but he only gave himself a couple of moments to calm down before all of his attention was on Shane again. "I love you."
"I love you." Shane echoed, he let Ilya maneuver them around so that they laid down for a bit, then he started leaving gentle kisses all over Shane's face while running a soothing hand along his back.
"Perfect." Ilya repeated.
"Mm." Shane cuddled up closer, only to become painfully aware of the sticky mess between them. "Ew. We need to sower, right now."
"Bossy." Ilya chuckled, but helped Shane up without putting up a fight.
The hotel room had a pretty spacious bathtub, so after rinsing off and cleaning up in the shower, they decided to relax for a bit.
Shane leaned back against Ilya's chest, closed his eyes, and let Ilya wash his hair. He'd return the favour, of course, but Ilya insisted he take care of Shane first.
"Sometimes I think you can't be real." Shane confessed with a soft smile. "There's no way someone as perfect as you exists."
Ilya still wasn't exactly good at accepting compliments of that kind. Being called hot stoked his ego, praising his hockey skills added a kind of endearing arrogance to him, but compliments like that were still tricky.
"You are the one to call someone perfect." He had to say, laying kisses along Shane's shoulder. "Look at you."
"I mean it." Shane turned traced circles on Ilya's thigh. "You are perfect, not just wish sex or your looks. I mean you're kind, and you're great with kids, and you're amazing with the team, and you always take care of me, even when I make you eat kale."
Ilya laughed at that, laying a kiss below Shane's ear. "I hope you make me eat stupid kale until we are both old and have white hair."
Shane's heart did a backflip, because Ilya had just referenced their future together without a trace of fear of ending up like either of his parents. "I love you."
"Ya tebya lyublyu." Ilya whispered.
Once the water started getting cold, they decided it was time to go to sleep. Luckily they didn't make a mess of the bed, only themselves, so they could lay down without worrying.
Before going to sleep, Shane reached for his toiletry bag and dug out the L'occitane cream Svetlana had told him to use. The callouses from years of hockey had started to hurt, and nothing else had helped but that cream.
"Give here." He reached for Ilya's hand and put it on his lap, applying it softly.
Ilya kissed his forehead with a soft smile. "So caring."
"You deserve to be cared for." Shane said simply, causing his fiance to bury his face against his neck.
For all their bickering and playful chirps, they both got incredibly sappy and soft right before going to sleep.
Years ago they couldn't imagine having what they had in that moment, they wouldn't have dared. And now, as Shane fell asleep, he was so immeasurably happy neither of them had given up. Because what they had was worth fighting for.