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Ilya had Shane’s hand in his lap.
He was playing with his fingers, tangling them together, and drew shapes on Shane’s palm with the tip of his own finger. This was all while the whole Ottawa Centaurs team sat in the film room watching tape before the start of the new season.
It was obvious to Shane that Ilya was bored.
Shane was also bored, but Ilya had kept him entertained well enough.
As captain, Ilya had access to the tapes that Coach Wiebe was currently going over days before the first film review was even scheduled.
And as Shane Hollander’s husband, Ilya had already watched the tapes with Shane in the comfort of their own living room.
So, they sat next to each other in the back of the room and mindlessly poked at each other until someone said something interesting enough to catch their attention.
Then Harris slipped into the film room with a girl behind him.
Their attempt at sneaking in without notice was unsuccessful, evident when nearly every single player in the room turned their head to the back wall. Coach cleared his throat and every turned head snapped back to the screen.
Shane glanced at his husband, whose chin was resting over his shoulder, still looking back at the stranger next to Harris’s side, a curious gleam in Ilya’s eye. Shane stole another glance at the girl.
She was cute. A few inches shorter than Harris, she sported an Ottawa Centaurs t-shirt under her wool cardigan and wore her nerves all over her face. She had long dark hair, a round face, high cheekbones, and a slim figure with a curve at her hip.
Shane was sure he had never seen her before. It is now his second season with the Centaurs and he could recognize every familiar face from the front desk all the way to the locker room attendants.
He looked back at Ilya, who was still staring for another second, before he turned back to face the screen. Shane warily settled back in his chair, a slight frown to his brow, and pinched Ilya’s thumb. A silent request for Ilya to resume his finger drawing on Shane’s palm.
Once Coach Wiebe was done going over the tape and his expectations for the upcoming preseason games, he gave Harris the floor. Harris flipped the light switch behind him and glided to the front of the room, new girl in tow. The guys sat up in their chairs, now having something new and peculiar in front of them.
“The new season is coming up and as you guys know, I’ve been looking for an assistant to help me with the very difficult job of keeping you all popular on the internet.” Laughter scattered in the room.
“Some do not need the help when you are the best player in the league,” Ilya shouted from the back. Shane roughly nudged his knee and glared into his mischievous blue eyes. “I am talking on behalf of my husband,” Ilya added.
“Rozanov,” Shane grumbled under his breath. Ilya held a smirk on his face, now crooked, and shrugged.
“Well, some of you sure do need help in becoming at least well liked.” Harris smiled menacingly and held his middle finger up at the heckler next to Shane. “I’ve hired an assistant! This is Anastasia Volkova. She will be taking over my role as social media manager. Everyone say, ‘Hi Anastasia.’”
Everyone repeated the greeting in unison.
“Please, call me Tasia!” She said enthusiastically and held up a polite wave.
“Does she know she is working for the gayest team in the league?” Ilya said carefully.
Shane shoved an elbow into the annoying man sitting next to him. “Khvatit,” he gritted through his teeth.
A hint of amusement smeared across Ilya’s face.
“She’s from Toronto, just graduated from the University of Illinois at Chicago and you will all be nice to her.” Harris waved a pointed finger across the room and stopped to linger on Ilya. Harris looked over at her, expecting a short introduction from herself.
She looked up at him, then the room and back to Harris.
“Um, go Centaurs?” Harris’s new assistant said nervously.
Bood whooped and began to clap for her. The rookies in the front row immediately followed.
Harris gave her another expectant look and she eventually stepped forward. Tasia pulled her arms back, held her hands behind her and threw on a bright smile.
“I’m really excited to have this opportunity and to join such an amazing team. I promise to work hard to make you all likable.” She let out in one single breath.
The entirety of the room began to clap and her shoulders slumped, visibly relieved to have gotten her short introduction over with. Then Harris went on about how he’ll still be closely involved and how the team wasn’t rid of his constant ambush of nagging questions.
Everyone started filing out of the film room, Ilya trailing behind Shane with his hand on the small of his back.
“Rozanov!” Harris called out. Shane and Ilya turned, Harris and his new assistant approaching them both. “Tomorrow after practice, we wanna do a quick segment of what you expect for the team this upcoming season. Just some quick, rapid-fire questions.”
“Of course.” Ilya smiled. “Will be very easy.”
Harris reached out and grabbed Tasia’s shoulder. “This’ll be Tasia’s first assignment. What better way to break the ice than with the team captain?”
Ilya held his hand out and Tasia gladly shook it, both of her hands fully clasped around his. Shane stared at it for longer than he probably should have.
“I’m a huge fan. They hate you down in Chicago.” Tasia said, staring up at Ilya, completely mesmerized.
“I love Chicago. Very good bars.” Ilya chuckled and she moved her hand towards Shane.
“And my brothers won’t believe I get to work with Shane Hollander.” Tasia beamed.
Shane shook her hand. Before he could speak, Ilya responded for him.
“Your brothers have remarkable taste.” Ilya shifted, returned his hand on Shane's back and led them towards the door. Ilya looked back over his shoulder at the new girl. “Looking forward to tomorrow, Tasia.”
***
After practice, Ilya was freshly showered and changed into loose sweatpants and Shane’s blue hoodie. Tasia sat him on the home bench, with a view of the ice behind him.
“So are the Chicago Blackhawks your favorite team?” Ilya inquired as Tasia was clumsily setting up her camera on the tripod. Tasia had a fancy heavy camera that looked more professional than the iPhone Harris normally used for their social media videos. This was serious stuff.
“Yes, actually,” Tasia said. She pulled the cap off the lens and started pressing buttons on her side of the camera.
“Not the Toronto Guardians?” Ilya asked, knowing her answer would easily sway his opinion of her.
Once she seemed to be satisfied with her button pushing, she looked up and held her hands behind her back.
“My family moved to Chicago in 2014 for my dad’s work. The following year, the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup. Kinda hard not to be a fan after that,” Tasia said, sitting on the stool behind her. She shrugged her shoulders and looked up thoughtfully. “And I hate the Guardians.”
Ilya let out a laugh and got comfortable in his seat.
-
Shane glanced over to the bench where Ilya and Tasia were going through Harris’s outlines for the video. He decided to stay on the ice after practice until Ilya was done shooting because, knowing his husband, it could take a while. The man talks a lot.
Wyatt stayed back, the Centaurs' goalie happily taking the extra practice, which almost frustrated Shane. Nearly half the shots he was making were blocked, Wyatt managing to catch them before the rubber touched the net. But then Shane felt grateful to be on the same team with a goalie with such capability, so he couldn’t feel too annoyed. This was good practice.
Hazy stood in the crease with a wide grin, waiting for Shane’s next move.
A loud laugh startled him and Shane turned towards the sound.
Ilya’s head was thrown back, his teeth in full view and his shoulders were shaking. Tasia had a hand covering her mouth, trying to dampen the sound of her own laugh, her chest leaning forward into her lap, the fingertips of her other hand just grazing Ilya’s knee.
Shane frowned behind his visor.
Women seemed to always gravitate towards Ilya, and Shane was used to it, but Ilya’s responses to some of them had changed within the past few years. Since even before they got serious, Shane had noticed.
Random women approached Rozanov as fans of his all the time and would gush over him. Shane always found it charming the way Ilya behaved with his fans when they acted like he was some major heartthrob, which he most certainly is. He would autograph anything you shoved in front of him, except certain body parts that Shane had decided were forbidden, and he’s never said no to a photo, even if he was inside a gas station mart with his hair sticking up in wild directions.
But when women approached Shane’s husband with certain intentions, Ilya would stand cold, an intimidating glare discouraging them before they could even open their mouths to try.
Right now, it was clear that Tasia was filed under ‘fan of major heart throb’, but it didn’t make Shane feel any less uncomfortable.
He watched them for a few more moments before turning back and searching for another puck to find a victim, a pit settling in his stomach.
-
“How’d it go with Tasia?”
Shane stood over the cutting board, chopping onions into small pieces. Ilya gave the boiling pasta on the stove a quick stir, then took space next to Shane, looking down at his husband’s fine work.
“Went fine,” Ilya said casually. He picked up a cherry tomato from the small bowl in front of Shane and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm, ochen spelyy.” Ilya lightly pressed a kiss on his cheek and moved to the fridge.
“She seems nice.” Shane pushed the onions off to the side and began to smash the garlic cloves.
“Yes, very nice.” Ilya pulled a can of ginger ale from the fridge along with a can of Coke. “She is Russian. Her last name means wolf.”
“Wolf,” Shane repeated, peeling the paperlike skin off the cloves and haphazardly throwing them off the cutting board. “What else did you learn about her?”
He heard a hiss and a crackle, and an open can of ginger ale appeared next to him.
“She does not speak Russian."
That seemed to relieve something in Shane, kind of. The pit in his stomach finally started to dissipate after following him home from the practice rink. He looked up and let his eyes linger on Ilya, studying him. He was leaning over their iPad, his eyes were skimming through the pasta recipe, and his fingers were now pulling the tab open on his Coke can.
***
After their first preseason game, all of the guys gathered at Monks, the social media team included.
Shane was in a high chair, sitting across from Dykstra and Bood, while Ilya stood close to him, his arm thrown across the back of Shane’s chair. Bood and Ilya were in a loud debate over how long it would take before Ilya got his first penalty.
“No, no, no.” Dykstra tapped his beer in the middle of the table and shook his head. “Roz is dropping gloves next Friday when we play in New Jersey. He and Lawson are always at each other’s necks.”
Shane looked up at Ilya, who was shrugging. He had no comment.
“Next Friday? No way,” Bood said incredulously. “Don’t forget how mad Hollander gets when Roz goes on time out.”
Ilya glanced at Shane with a knowing smirk.
Shane rolled his eyes and followed it with a glare. “You guys think this asshole cares if I get mad?”
They were both aware that Ilya loved it when Shane got mad during matches. Ilya loved it even more when Shane got mad at him during matches. Because they both knew, without fail, that the built-up tension in Shane transformed into something else entirely once they got home.
Ilya pulled Shane close and gently placed a kiss on the edge of Shane’s eye, smoothing his sharp glare.
Shane didn’t tense up from the public display of affection in front of their teammates like he used to. The men they surrounded themselves with have become the sort of brothers that Shane didn’t grow up having, the loving brothers Ilya deserved to have.
“Don’t you miss being on the other end of my chirping?” Ilya asked teasingly.
“No,” Shane quickly replied. “I’m still on the very long list of players that find you annoying.”
“Add me to that list,” Bood commented before taking a swig of his beer. Dysktra raised his bottle in the air in agreement.
“Me? Annoying? This is the first I’ve heard of this,” Ilya said in a fake offended tone, his smirk growing wider. “I thought everyone loved me.”
“Must be something wrong with your ears. They don’t listen to anything that doesn't stroke your ego,” Shane said playfully with a quirk to his lips. “Don’t forget that I used to kinda hate you, Rozanov.”
“Obviously not enough,” Ilya laughed and lifted his beer to his lips, downing the rest of his corona. “Do you want another drink?” He asked.
Ilya set his empty bottle on the table and reached for Shane’s hand.
“Water, please.” Shane squeezed his fingers. Ilya gave a light squeeze back before he walked off towards the bar.
Bood and Dyskstra continued in their conversation, now talking about Tampa's goalie from earlier that evening. Shane watched as Ilya approached the circle of rookies, all hovering over the new, pretty social media girl. Ilya smacked his hand over their rookie defenseman’s shoulder, causing him to drunkenly stumble, and took his spot at the bar. The spot next to Tasia.
Ilya laid his forearms on the wood and leaned forward, waiting for the bartender. Tasia fully turned towards him, her back now facing Shane. He saw Ilya look down at her and lowered his head as if to hear her better and Ilya gave a response that caused Tasia to laugh, her hand reaching up to grab his arm while in hysterics.
Shane’s skin began to itch.
***
The Ottawa Centaurs got new jerseys. Which only means one thing.
Photoshoot.
Barrett, Rozanov and Boodram were standing next to each other in front of the black backdrop with a light shining behind them to make for a more intense shot while music blasted through the speakers. Gen had Barrett and Bood holding hockey sticks at their side while Rozanov stood in the middle with his arms crossed, a serious hard glare on his face.
Ilya looked hot as fuck.
Shane stood close by in his new black and red jersey, taking sips from Ilya’s water bottle, and waited for his turn to be photographed next to his husband.
It’s already been a very long day. Gen gathered all the guys for a team photo at the beginning. Then, she had to take photos of everyone in their new jerseys individually. And now she was going through smaller groups, starting with the first line forwards. Shane knew once the three of them were done, the captain and alternate captain shot was next. It’ll have to be a little more waiting until he has to stand next to Ilya, but Shane still stood there wanting to watch.
Gen dismissed Troy and he started walking towards Shane.
“Looking good, Hollander,” Troy shouted over the loud music, patting Shane on the shoulder. “These jerseys are sick.”
“Centaurs logo still looks like shit,” Shane snickered.
“Can’t disagree with that.” Troy laughed and shook his head.
Shane walked over to the snack table with Troy, where a majority of the guys hung out until Gen wanted them. Alongside them were Harris and Tasia, taking a short break from filming behind the scenes shots of the photoshoot.
He came up to the tray of sandwiches and grabbed the last of the tuna salad subs.
“How much you boys wanna bet the Hollander jersey’ll be the first to sell out?” Dykstra teased, holding a small paper plate loaded with snacks.
“Better buy your wives one before they do,” Shane quipped, taking a bite of his sandwich and earning a laugh from the gathering around the table.
“I heard Cap already requested to preorder a bunch of his once they start producing them,” Boyle mentioned. “Roz will probably sell out his own jersey himself.”
Ilya actually preordered three. Ilya also requested to preorder three of Shane’s.
‘Just because,’ was all Ilya had said when Shane learned about it after the fact. But he had an idea of the true reason when he remembered that Ilya’s dream was to father a line of forwards.
Shane ate the last bite of his tuna sub, trying to hide the stupid smile creeping up on his face.
After taking a long swig of water, Shane swished it around, hoping that the remaining tuna stench in his mouth would fade in time before Gen needed to photograph the team’s star centers. Not that it bothered Shane necessarily, but Ilya came to hate the smell of tuna.
He opened Ilya’s now empty bottle and held it under the water dispenser to refill it with fresh cold water.
“So, Tasia.” Shane heard Harris say behind him. “You’ve been here a few weeks now. Spill. Who’s your favorite player?”
“Oh, Rozanov. One hundred percent. No doubt about it.” Tasia replied plainly. Shane clenched his jaw and forced himself not to turn around.
“Not surprising.” Someone commented.
“Could you blame me?” Tasia said dramatically. “He’s so funny and charming! I just love talking to him. And his accent is so dreamy.”
Shane closed the water bottle in his hand and walked away to his previous spot before he could hear her say anything else.
“Hollander,” Gen shouted. “Come on up.”
Shane set the bottle down on the floor next to Gen and nodded at Bood as he walked past him and took his spot. Ilya’s hard glare became soft, a smile growing across his face, and Shane’s stomach started to feel all tingly after seeing his husband’s expression change so immediately. He couldn’t help but smile back.
Ilya’s hand came reaching out and grabbed Shane around his waist when he got close enough.
“I didn’t know I was posing with a sexy male model today,” Ilya said in a low sultry tone. His hand slid up the back of Shane’s jersey and rested on the small of his back.
“Careful, don’t let my husband hear you say that,” Shane smirked, his cheeks beginning to heat under Ilya’s intense stare.
“Boys! Turn to the camera.” Gen crouched with her camera held up to her face.
They saw the light flash around them, Gen having already started taking pictures of the two of them. They didn’t listen.
Ilya’s heated eyes swept over him, and Shane felt his cheeks getting even warmer. Another flash. Gen would have to photoshop that.
“Want to meet in the bathroom after this? Your husband doesn’t have to know,” Ilya said, his voice lower.
Flustered, Shane tried to move away, but Ilya’s grasp only became stronger. “Focus, Rozanov.”
“I am focused.” Ilya’s stare was fixed on Shane’s lips. Shane prayed his breath didn’t smell bad.
“Roz, this is your last one and then you can be finished,” Gen said, defeated when both of them continued to ignore the camera, the perpetrator clearly being the distracted Russian.
Ilya leaned into Shane’s ear and muttered under his breath. “I’m taking my jersey home.”
“What? Why?” Shane whispered back.
“I want you to wear it,” Ilya responded quietly with a suggestive tone, then finally turned to face Gen.
Oh.
Shane suddenly perked up.
Then he began to devise a plan on how they could leave without anyone noticing Rozanov's jersey was missing.
***
A week later, Harris pulled Ilya from the locker room once he was finished getting dressed after practice. Well, Harris initially entered the locker room before Ilya had gotten his pants on and returned shortly after.
“Just ten minutes. Swear!” Harris shouted to Shane from the doorway. “Boodram, you’re after Rozanov so don’t leave yet, please!”
Bood walked out of the showers in a towel and shot him a thumbs up.
Last night, the Ottawa Centaurs won their first official game of the new season. It made sense as to why Harris wanted the captain and assistant captain so insistently.
“Ten minutes,” Shane murmured to Ilya. “So I should expect to be waiting for twenty.”
“Fifteen.” Ilya shrugged and threw on a black hoodie.
“I’m tired, Ilya.”
“Already? The night is so young.” Ilya’s grin stretched into a sly smile and gave Shane’s backside a small tap.
“Go.” Shane nodded to the door with a soft grin. “You grabbed my hoodie by the way,” he added.
Ilya turned to their adjacent stalls and noticed that he did, in fact, grab the hoodie from the wrong stall, then looked down at himself. He looked up at Shane with raised eyebrows.
“This is my hoodie,” Ilya noted.
“I wore it here,” Shane argued back. It was Ilya’s hoodie, but that was besides the point.
“Wear mine.”
“I was wearing yours.”
Ilya snatched the black hoodie still hung up in his stall and tossed it into Shane’s arms.
“You knew what I meant.” Ilya teased. He reached up and lightly squeezed Shane’s cheek. Shane swatted his hand away and pulled it on, happier to have gotten the hoodie that smelled like his husband anyway.
Ilya stepped out and Shane sat in his stall checking through his notifications, mostly messages from his parents and emails from their agent. Then, curious, he opened their puppy cam app and flipped through the cameras looking for Anya. He finally found her on the living room camera, lying in her bed, sprawled on her back with her paws in the air.
Shane smiled, his nose scrunching at the cuteness on his phone screen. He took a screenshot and stood up.
After Harris’s promotion, the Centaurs owners turned a vacant office on the second floor into a small designated studio with a backdrop and lighting specifically for the social media team.
Shane climbed the stairs, his bag on one shoulder and Ilya’s on the other, and stopped next to the door of the room his husband was sure to be in. He couldn’t wait to show Ilya what Anya was doing.
The door finally opened.
“See you tomorrow, Stasya,” Ilya said before stepping out of the room. Ilya looked up at his waiting husband, keys in hand, ready to drive them home.
Stasya? Who the hell is that?
Tasia poked her head through the crack of the doorway and gave them both an excited wave. “Rest well!”
Shane’s joy was short-lived, displeasure gnawing at his chest.
A frown was creased into Shane’s forehead as they walked through the parking garage, a thought burning a hole in Shane’s mind, and before he could stop it, the thought exploded out of his mouth.
“What did you just call her?” Shane asked.
Shane unlocked his car and they both threw their bags in the back seat.
“I didn’t call anyone,” Ilya replied, getting into the passenger seat.
“No,” Shane said irritably. “What did you call Tasia? Upstairs? Just a few minutes ago?”
“Ah.” Ilya was pressing buttons on the wide screen between them and connected his phone to the bluetooth. “Stasya. Short for Anastasia. Russian thing.”
Shane nodded his head.
Great. Fan of major heartthrob has a nickname now.
-
Shane planted himself on the couch when they got home, legs sprawled across the cushions, and Ilya soon followed suit. Ilya nudged Shane’s knees apart and laid himself in between his legs, Ilya’s back pressed against Shane’s chest. Ilya threw his leg over Shane’s and scrolled through shows and movies on the TV before eventually settling on a random action movie.
Ilya set his hand on Shane’s knee and began to knead his fingertips into the muscle.
“Did you have a good day today?” Ilya asked.
“Yeah,” Shane responded quietly, thinking back to the moment outside of the studio. He lifted his hand to the luscious bed of curls in front of him and grazed his fingers through the soft strands. “Did you have a good day?”
“Yes.” Ilya tilted his head, leaning into Shane’s touch. “What was your favorite part of today?”
“My favorite part of today,” Shane started, the edges of his mouth starting to rise at Ilya’s usual curiosity. He closed his fingers around a handful of curls and brushed his fingers out and upwards, causing Ilya’s hair to stick out. “Watching Boyle skate straight into Dykstra’s back.”
This brought out a laugh from Ilya, his whole torso shaking. “Good one! That was very funny.”
Shane gently took another handful in his hand and pulled more curls through his fingertips. “What was your favorite part of today?” he asked.
“Right now,” Ilya replied promptly. Shane immediately fucking melted.
Shane leaned forward and planted a long kiss on the nest he created on his husband's head, his hands coming down to lay on his chest. Ilya hummed in response.
Ilya frequently did check-ins like this with Shane. Like he wanted to know how Shane was feeling or thinking, even though they spent nearly every second of the day together. And Shane felt lucky. They spent years hiding their true feelings, pretending not to care about one another and Ilya made sure Shane knew that he cared about everything.
Ilya lifted his hand back, reaching for Shane’s cheek and felt his now wild hair on its route.
“You made my hair fluffy!” He exclaimed. Shane giggled innocently as Ilya quickly rolled over between his legs and planted his hands next to Shane's waist, leveling his face to his. “Favorite part of today ruined.”
Shane reached up and grabbed Ilya’s jaw in both hands, tracing the grin stretched across his face with the pad of his thumbs. “You look crazy,” he said with a wide cheeky smile.
“Ask me what the worst part of my day was, Hollander.” Ilya slowly inched closer to Shane’s face, head slightly tilting to the side. He stopped a breath short, waiting for Shane to ask.
“No,” Shane lightly shook his head. “There was no bad part.”
He closed the gap before Ilya could respond.
The first swipe of Ilya’s tongue on Shane’s lips came in an instant and he welcomed him. The soft muscle of Ilya’s mouth caressed his tongue lavishly and Shane opened wider, willing Ilya for more. Shane hummed faintly at the taste of his husband, sweet and decadent and purely his. A taste he’s known for years and could never get enough of.
Ilya sucked Shane’s tongue into his mouth and delicately urged him to explore his mouth. Shane moved his hands and balled the neckline of Ilya’s t-shirt into his fingers, forcing him closer, which he effortlessly complied with. Shane left soft licks of his tongue and Ilya constantly chased him back for more. Their usual cat and mouse game.
Shane trailed his hands down the front of Ilya’s torso, found the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up, allowing himself permission to touch the hard muscle beneath the cotton. Shane let out a breathy moan. He moved his palms up to Ilya’s chest and grazed over the hard pecs that his hands found and eventually made his way to Ilya’s back, shoving his shirt up to his neck. The quiet sighs Ilya was breathing into his mouth made Shane relentless.
Ilya left his t-shirt where Shane left it, bunched up, not wanting to take his lips off of him. Shane was touching him everywhere and it made him impossibly hungrier. The fervent way Shane’s hands couldn’t stay in one spot for long drove Ilya mad until eventually Shane’s grip landed on his waist and Ilya was tugged even closer on top of Shane.
The urgency behind Shane's grasp suddenly made Ilya hot and he only craved more heat, the fabric on their bodies a nuisance to be rid of.
Ilya achingly pulled himself away from Shane’s lips and finally removed his t-shirt. He tore Shane’s shirt off his body and dove back down to satiate the burn in his mouth from the short time they were apart from Shane’s swollen lips. Ilya planted his hand on Shane’s cheek and held his face, taking his mouth deeper.
Shane placed his hand over Ilya’s, his finger grazing his husband’s wedding ring, cold and heavy, and Shane felt almost feral from the touch.
He’s mine.
Shane sucked Ilya’s bottom lip in between his teeth and gingerly nipped, a subtle sign. He wanted more than his lips, more than his tongue. Shane wanted everything.
He reached his other hand between them and gripped Ilya through the fabric of his sweatpants.
“I need you,” Shane said breathlessly. “Take me to bed, please.”
Ilya groaned at Shane’s sweet request. He lifted him off the couch and pulled them both up the long stairs while hastily losing their pants and underwear along the way.
Shane shoved him onto the bed, his rigid cock staring right at him, waiting to be touched. He crawled over Ilya’s legs, his mouth already salivating from just the thought of Ilya filling his mouth.
Ilya pulled his arms behind his head, his stare glued on Shane as he eyed his length. Shane now hovered over his lap, his jaw slack and his brown eyes came up to meet Ilya’s. The expression on Shane's face made Ilya ache. His eyes were heavy, his cheeks rosy across his face and his lips were still bright pink and plump. Shane looked at him as if waiting for permission.
He stared back at his earnest Shane, completely captivated. Shane looked like he'd perish if he didn’t have Ilya’s cock in his mouth right now and yet he still craved Ilya’s approval. Ilya always felt stunned every time Shane did this and the surprise never grew milder. If anything, it always tore Ilya apart.
“You have me, sweetheart,” Ilya finally whispered.
Ilya saw a glimpse of the pool of saliva sitting in Shane’s mouth as he lowered his head and ran his wet tongue from the base of Ilya’s cock to the tip.
He groaned at how immediately Shane let himself indulge. It was as if Shane had waited for Ilya to give him permission to absolutely ravish him to no end. And once Shane started, there were no more lingering looks for validation.
Shane once again ran his tongue up the side of Ilya’s length, then did the same on the other side until the complete bottom side of his erection was slathered in Shane’s spit. He scooted himself higher between Ilya’s legs and took him in his grasp, standing Ilya’s cock up, then wrapped his mouth around the thick pink head.
A deep moan rose out of Ilya’s chest as Shane sucked on his head between his soft swollen lips. Shane hummed in delight and the vibrations around Ilya’s tip sent shivers down his spine. He released Ilya from his lips and gripped a second hand around the base, held him up straighter and twirled his tongue around the edges of Ilya’s tip.
“Holy fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned.
Shane got lost in the insatiable hunger of his lust. He held Ilya’s heavy cock in both hands and held him up high as he ran his tongue on every single surface of skin until Ilya was glistening in Shane’s spit. He leaned back a moment to look at his hard work.
Then he looked up at Ilya, his face swimming in desire. Shane stuck his tongue out of his mouth and slapped Ilya’s cock against his tongue.
Ilya’s hips nearly jerked off the bed. Shane slapped him against his tongue again and Ilya groaned loudly. Then Shane finally sank his warm mouth on his cock.
Ilya couldn’t take his eyes off him, he couldn't even dare to blink. Shane glanced up at him one more time before he tried to take as much of Ilya’s length in his mouth as he could fit. Once Ilya’s throbbing head hit the back of Shane’s throat, he withdrew his mouth back up before sinking back down, saliva dripping down Ilya’s length and down to his balls.
Shane bobbed his head up and down and moaned in satisfaction of having Ilya take up his whole mouth. He relaxed his jaw and flattened his tongue as he sucked on the massive cock. Shane couldn’t stop. All he was thinking about was filling his mouth with the gorgeous man he had naked in his bed and feeling his thick head constantly smacking the back of his throat.
Shane knew that soon enough, Ilya’s cock was going to destroy him and the anticipation had him crazed. Ilya was his to have and was only his.
He tasted so perfect and Shane wished that he could take him fully, but tonight he felt bold. A sudden feeling of possession over Ilya took control of his thoughts and he decided to push himself. Shane shifted himself in a more comfortable spot and then shoved his mouth back down on Ilya.
“Yes, Shane. Like tha-fuck.” Ilya groaned his last word out as Shane tried to push Ilya’s tip farther back.
The head of Ilya’s cock was tightly clenched in Shane’s throat and Ilya gasped. Ilya lifted his head off his pillow, completely enthralled when he realized Shane was trying to take him deeper than he ever had. Shane was gagging, and he kept trying, his mouth struggling to keep wide. Another flow of saliva dripped from his lips and Shane used the excess to slowly stroke the remainder of the length that had no chance.
Shane fully drew back and stroked Ilya with his hand. His gaze met Ilya’s face and Ilya felt his lower stomach heat. Shane’s eyes were watery and the previous rosy pink of his cheeks was now red and damp, all from the effort of eagerly trying to take more. Shane leaned back down, this time keeping his dewy gaze on Ilya, and tried again. His eyes were wide and Ilya stared back, desperate to watch his husband as he did his best.
Ilya was sure Shane couldn’t breathe with how deep he took him, but he didn’t have it in him to stop him. Shane seemed so set on taking more of Ilya’s length in his mouth and it made Ilya throb even more. Ilya’s mouth fell open when Shane didn’t gag this time, he instead caressed the underside of Ilya’s shaft with his tongue as he proudly moaned.
Ilya immediately came undone and his thoughts went haywire. His greedy husband’s eyes were looking up at him, flooded with satisfaction, while his cock was shoved deep into the back of his throat.
Ilya was now completely unable to lie still. He needed to touch Shane.
“Come here,” he demanded, sitting up and reaching for Shane’s wet face.
Shane slowly pulled his mouth off and Ilya’s head plopped out of his lips. He held himself up as he leaned forward to meet Ilya’s hands. Ilya pulled Shane’s face to his own and cupped their mouths together. Ilya’s tongue already shoved its way into his mouth and tasted his insatiable hunger. Ilya crowded himself over Shane until he laid down on his back.
Within seconds, Ilya had Shane’s knees spread wide apart and he took one of his balls in his mouth. He twirled the sac around with his tongue, popped it in and out of his mouth and slathered all over it. Ilya had to grab Shane’s hips to keep him from trying to crawl away. He knew the way he was sucking on his balls was too much for Shane’s high sensitivity, but he loved watching Shane thrash. He let go of the sack he played around with and took the other one in his mouth.
“Please ea-,” Shane shuddered out, unable to finish his sentence.
“Hmm?” Ilya hummed curiously, twirling his balls around in his mouth.
Panting, Shane let his words out one at a time. “Eat. My. Ass. Please.”
Ilya took his plea and moved lower, his tongue jutting out to circle around Shane’s rim. Shane gasped and arched his back.
With his arms grasped around his thighs, Ilya devoured. His tongue was lapping at Shane’s hole and covered the whole area in his saliva. Ilya reached his hand under Shane’s chin and he spat in it. He brought his hand back and began stroking Shane’s aching cock.
He focused the tip of his tongue on Shane’s tight entrance and swirled it around the puckered skin.
“Oh my god.” Shane dragged his words out, his voice low in his chest as the sensations overwhelmed him.
Ilya pulled his arm back from his grip around Shane’s thigh and gently ran a finger around Shane's rim.
Shane lifted off the bed and reached into whichever drawer was closest and dug for a bottle of lube. Ilya quickly took it from his hand and Shane comfortably laid back, his legs spread open, ready for Ilya to take him even farther.
Ilya slid a slick finger into the aching hole in front of him and Shane arched his back lightly at the small relief. Ilya massaged his finger into Shane patiently, bringing out his breathy soft moans and feeling Shane relax so easily. He stopped his stroke and curled his finger to dig into Shane’s prostate.
“Ilya,” Shane whined and tightly gripped the bedding.
He drew his finger all the way back, slowly pushed it back in down to the knuckle, and twisted. Shane’s hips jerked up in response and cursed loudly. When he was sure Shane was about to exhale, he lined up a second finger ready to join the current one.
“I want you,” Shane panted.
“But Shane-”
“I want you now,” Shane insisted.
Ilya followed his husband's urgent request and slathered himself with lube. He rubbed the tip of his aching head against Shane’s puckered entrance and looked up to his face.
Shane’s eyes were heavily lidded, struggling to keep them open and Ilya felt his lower stomach throb more intensely at how completely dazed he was. And Shane’s favorite part hadn’t even started yet.
A drop of saliva still hung from the corner of Shane’s mouth and he watched it.
Ilya finally pushed his raw cock into Shane’s impatient hole. The soft warm walls welcomed him, loose and open, and the spit hanging from Shane’s mouth finally dripped down his chin.
Ilya instinctively pulled back slowly and snapped forward with a hard thrust, a throaty moan from Shane’s perfect mouth in response. And he did it again, Shane trembling on his cock from the impact.
He kept that same steady pace. The perfect combination of slow and hard. The perfect combination that makes Shane thrash under him while he swallows Ilya’s entire length in his ass.
Ilya leaned back and pushed Shane’s knees farther apart. He looked down in between them and watched Shane's plump rim stretch wide around his thickness. Every time he pulled out, his asshole stayed so loose like it was begging for him to come back. And it drove him crazy.
“You feel so fucking perfect. Gripping me so good.”
Shane rolled his hips up to meet each thrust, his brown eyes fixed on Ilya’s. They watched each other, Ilya savoring the way Shane’s throat twitched with each stroke.
Ilya reached his hand down and squeezed Shane’s pec. He spat on Shane’s stomach and swiped the spit up on his fingers and used it to massage Shane’s sensitive nipples. Shane whimpered as Ilya pinched and tugged, making him quiver as Ilya twisted the soft nub with slick fingers.
The arousal flipped something filthy on in Shane's mind like a light switch and Ilya saw the change in Shane's expression, his eyes going sharp. The corner of Ilya’s mouth rose and his gaze smoldered down at his husband. He savaged his hips forward once more, his cock buried into Shane.
“Spit in me,” Shane demanded through his teeth.
And there it was.
Ilya pulled out and lifted Shane's hips off the bed. He held Shane’s ass up to his face, spread his cheeks open and spat twice into his swollen gaping hole. Ilya dropped his hold and Shane’s tailbone landed back on the mattress with a small bounce.
He pushed Shane’s knees back until his thighs were flat on his chest and he sank back into him. The slow steady pace was long gone.
The speed of Ilya’s thrusts became explosive and Shane called out in pleasure. Shane tightly held his legs spread open with his knees touching his shoulders and Ilya moved his grasp to the back of Shane’s neck to drive in impossibly deeper.
“God, you’re so fucking big,” Shane panted.
Ilya felt that there was no chance anyone could understand how fucking insane Shane’s body made him feel. There were no words in any language that could describe it. He craved being inside Shane more than he needed air in his lungs. The sensation felt endless, like it’s exactly what he needs, but could never fully feel satisfied, so Ilya needed more and more and more. And he knew Shane would give it to him.
Ilya leaned back and gripped the hair at the top of Shane’s head. He pulled it forward until Shane’s chin hit his chest.
“Watch my cock pound into you,” Ilya growled above him.
Shane immediately lowered his gaze and watched Ilya’s cock vigorously slip in and out of him. The quickness with which he followed the order made Ilya slam his hips even harder.
“Fuck yeah, Rozanov. Fuck me,” Shane groaned out. Ilya’s grip on his hair tightened.
Shane was so loose and fantastic that Ilya pounded him into the mattress with such hazardous ease. And watching Shane strain to keep his eyes open to watch his ass get fucked put him so close to the edge. Ilya’s mind was going crazy. And he fucking loved how Shane took his thick cock so well.
“Cum for me, Shane.” Ilya was so close he could feel every muscle in his body tighten.
He let go of Shane's hair and pushed his knees back even farther past his shoulders until they touched his pillow. Shane’s hips slightly lifted off the bed. And, fuck, he looked amazing below him. So beautiful and dewy, his expression was lost in the sensations. But then Shane’s lids tightly closed over his eyes.
“Wait,” Shane cried out. “I don’t want this to end.”
Ilya had Shane completely folded over himself as he let him destroy his insides without a care and Shane so clearly loved every second of it. Ilya always felt that Shane should never feel anything less than pure utter pleasure. Shane owned him and Ilya was going to give him everything. And his desperate plea for them to continue tore Ilya to shreds.
“I’m not done with you. Tonight I will fuck you again,” Ilya grunted.
Every frenzied stroke of Ilya’s cock was now hitting Shane’s prostate perfectly and all the nerves in his body felt like they were on fire. Shane knew if he touched himself now, he'd cum instantly.
“Tomorrow you will not be able to walk. I will keep you in bed all day.”
Shane shouted louder into the room while Ilya hammered into him even more, feeling every shattering snap of Ilya’s hips in his throat. He finally took his erection in his hand and frantically began to stroke himself after hearing Ilya’s promise.
“And I will keep fucking you until you can’t take it.” Ilya finally growled.
Shane arched his back and called out Ilya’s name. Shane's orgasm completely enveloped his body, every muscle clenched as he trembled at the heavy sensation, his hot cum gushed down his fingers and all over his stomach. His mind went foggy and he watched his husband above him as he continued to pump recklessly into him to chase his own orgasm.
Ilya could feel his climax building up and he stared into Shane below him, who looked incandescently euphoric. His jaw was relaxed and hung open, letting the sounds his body was releasing come out freely and his eyes stared back at him, all misty and indulgent, just taking everything Ilya was giving him with his legs still held tight.
And in this moment, he understood Shane. He wanted to be stuck in this forever. To live in an endless cycle of making Shane look exactly how he does now.
“So perfect,” Shane moaned out.
And those were the words to break the dam.
He leaned down to kiss Shane’s swollen lips and moaned into his mouth, his body shuddering intensely above him. Waves of ecstasy crashed into him so sharply that he hoped Shane could see how fucking incredible he could make him feel. Ilya thrusted into him one last time and buried as deep as he could get while the last of his cum spilled out of his body.
Ilya crashed on top of Shane, his full weight spread over him, and breathing heavily. He wrapped his arms beneath Shane’s back, clung to his body and completely trapped him. He dug his face into Shane’s neck and closed his eyes, praying that when he opened them again, this all wouldn't be a dream.
Shane nuzzled his nose into Ilya’s damp golden hair and breathed him in, brushing a handful of curls in his fingers.
“My favorite part of today,” Shane whispered contentedly.
***
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Shane muttered, his voice warm. “This can’t be a thing.”
Shane and Ilya both laid in their king-size bed with the morning light shining brightly into their bedroom and their limbs tangled up in the sheets. The air was drenched in them.
Shane draped across the bed on his side, his rosy cheek resting on Ilya’s glistening stomach.
Ilya gazed lovingly at his husband with his hand delicately running through Shane’s sweat moistened hair. Shane played with Ilya’s other hand, twisting his wedding band around his finger.
“Yes, but today was special,” Ilya said quietly and smiled, moving his delicate hand lower to graze his thumb over Shane’s cheek and stopping at his favorite freckle.
“How so?” Shane asked gently.
Ilya stared into Shane’s big brown eyes, his expression so tender and adorably curious. Ilya wanted to bite him.
“I’m celebrating.” Ilya raised his shoulders a touch, casually shrugging.
Shane chuckled softly and intertwined Ilya’s fingers with his own. “Okay, what are we celebrating?”
Ilya’s smile grew fonder. He lifted their combined hands to his lips and ever so lightly nipped at the skin on the back of Shane’s hand.
Being in love.
-
“Where’s Rozanov and Hollander?” Tasia asked, camera in hand, ready to get some recordings of the boys at the start of practice.
“Skipped practice today. They’re both sick, apparently,” Bood answered, tossing his water bottle on the bench.
“Damn.” Wyatt pouted beside him.
During their break, Wyatt opened his phone and texted Shane and Ilya. ‘Hope you guys feel better!’
***
Over the next few weeks, Shane dreaded being assigned for social media stuff.
The two videos Shane was required to do by himself were with Tasia. He preferred Harris, who was in a very serious and loving relationship with another Centaurs player and did not hang over Ilya’s every word.
The longer Tasia had been around, the closer she and Ilya got, naturally, but what irritated Shane the most was that Tasia couldn’t speak or laugh or breathe without keeping her hands to herself and off his husband.
Lately, Harris has only managed the group shoots, which Shane mostly did with Ilya. And recording the team’s walk-ins in their nice fancy outfits before each game, which Shane always did with Ilya. And the candid locker room videos, which Tasia was not allowed to be in, thankfully, for everyone's sake, but mostly hers.
But any solo clips that Harris needed to compile into a team q&a video were all taken by Tasia and Shane loathed every second of it.
Shane’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out of the pocket of his sweatpants. A text from Harris in the Centaurs group chat popped up on the screen. The preview showed, ‘Tomorrow’s Contestants for Tasia’s Pregame Questionnaire are as Follows’. Shane huffed and unlocked his phone. His name was third on a list of six names next to a time slot. He ran his eyes through the list one more time. Ilya wasn’t listed.
“What is it?” Ilya asked. They stopped on the path, Anya finally finding an acceptable spot to pee.
“Nothing,” Shane muttered under his breath. “Another video tomorrow, I guess.” He sensed Ilya’s stare on him, growing aware of the hairs on the back of his neck as they stood up.
Ilya tugged at their intertwined hands, making Shane look up from his phone.
“People love seeing you. Harris told me.” Ilya pulled on Shane’s hand again until he stood right in front of him. “And I love it.”
They had many discussions together in the past over how uncomfortable Shane felt being displayed so openly online when he initially joined the Centaurs. Harris was enthusiastic about showing him off to the public, especially since he was married to the team’s captain. At the time, their relationship sparked conversations for many months and opened the table for even more important conversations in basically every major sport. Shane understood, more than anyone, the importance of Harris’s excited intentions.
Last season, there was a whole production for Shane’s introduction video to the Ottawa Centaurs. He had an absolute blast. A bunch of teammates he’d already become familiar with came to hang out off camera, the owners had catered way too much food for the crew to eat, and for the whole entire day, Ilya had the brightest smile on his face.
While the response was heavily on the positive side, Ottawa residents were ecstatic to have Shane Hollander alongside Ilya Rozanov on their team, a lot of distaste for his sexuality also came flooding in. Slurs were thrown under every video Harris posted of him on the Centaurs' social media pages.
Shane took it a lot better now, with a steel shield across his chest, after Ilya’s constant reassurance allowed him to follow in his lead of just not giving a shit. ‘You have the sexiest hockey player in the league as husband. They have nothing. Just bad taste.’
He did his best to ignore the comments, practically never giving it a thought to read through them, but he knew they were there. He continued to carry that bitterness with him throughout his first season in Ottawa.
And Ilya seemed to believe that was still the case.
Shane looked up at him through his lashes, Ilya’s concern slathered thick across his face.
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t like doing it.” Shane said weakly. It was half the truth.
Shane hated being in a small room with bright lights pointed at him and having to talk to the young, pretty girl that seems to think that she and Ilya had become best friends over the past couple of weeks. And seeing her practically throw herself on his husband makes Shane’s skin want to crawl off his flesh. But he wasn’t going to admit that last part.
“I don’t understand. The last time we had so much fun,” Ilya responded. Shane turned away, looking over at Anya, now creating a puddle beneath her. Ilya sensed the distance in the air and leaned into his space, moving his head around until Shane’s eyes eventually allowed contact. “Talk to me, Shane.”
“It was fun. Only because we were together.” And with Harris. Even Troy was there.
Anya rose back up from her squat and kicked back at the grass behind her. She lowered her head, began to sniff around once more, and almost immediately started walking in a circle.
“But we are not always together,” Ilya stated. Resignation simmered through Shane’s bones.
“It’s not fun when I’m by myself.”
“They are quick, moya lyubov.”
Shane nodded, eyes lowering back down, and reached across Ilya for the roll of poop bags hanging from Anya’s leash now that she was squatting again at a different angle. Ilya sighed deeply.
Shane didn’t want to make this into some whole big issue. They all did these videos for Harris. And Shane came to love Harris very quickly after they met and considered him a good friend, gladly having found someone to vent with about their asshole partners. He also didn’t want to be the one stick-in-the-ass that had a problem with filming one small take for the team's social media pages.
If Barrett’s grumpy ass could do it, so can he. The main issue was the touchy assistant Harris took under his wing.
“If you do not like it, then we will tell Harris. Just make videos with each other.” Ilya shrugged.
Shane quickly looked back up, Ilya’s expression now full of determination. Ilya took the poop bag from Shane's grasp and handed over the leash.
“Ilya-”
“No more pouting and huffing and puffing. Consider the problem gone.”
***
The next day, Shane decided to do one last shoot with Tasia so as not to ruin Harris’s planned out schedule. Ilya insisted that he tell Harris and that it wasn’t too late, that he would take Shane’s spot. Shane immediately declined his offer.
The morning started as it normally does. Shane woke up earlier than Ilya and went down to the kitchen to make his and Ilya’s pregame shake, a new ritual that Ilya deemed necessary since realizing they both score at least one goal every time Shane makes him his gross green protein shake.
He rounded the corner and went straight for the blender, finding the containers of his powders already neatly lined up on the counter in order of how Shane prefers to add them. Shane rubbed at his eyes and grinned when the shimmering in his vision cleared and nothing had changed.
Maybe a week after Ilya took on the ‘gross green protein shake ritual’, Shane woke up on game days to find this exact lineup. His husband had set out all of these ingredients next to the blender the night before, ready for a sleepy Shane.
Shane made their smoothies and quietly ran up the stairs and back into their bedroom. Ilya was spread over the mattress, the blanket just barely covering his softness and his mouth hanging wide open.
Two tall glass cups in hand, Shane waddled across the mattress on his knees towards the peaceful sleeping Russian until he was straddling his hip. He lowered Ilya’s glass, the one with the bent glass straw, because that’s the one Shane set in his glass the first time, and ever so slightly pressed his cold protein shake up against Ilya’s cheek, startling him awake. Ilya’s head lifted off his pillow, eyes wide open as if electrocuted back to life.
Shane held both glasses close to his chest before they spilled and giggled at Ilya’s reaction. Ilya settled back down, realizing where he was and melted at the happiness in Shane’s laugh. The first sound of his day.
“You’re trying to murder your love with a heart attack and disgusting shake this morning, huh?” Ilya held a smug smile with a fondness in his eyes, his chest still heaving from the initial shock. He gave Shane’s side a small pinch, an unspoken signal.
Shane carefully leaned down and puckered, their closed lips loudly making contact with a smooch.
Ilya, of course, found a small loophole to Shane’s ‘no kissing with morning breath’ rule ages ago, because apparently, no kissing in the morning will not do well for their marriage.
“Dobroye utro,” (“Good morning,”) Shane whispered softly. His eyes swept over his breathtaking husband with a tender gaze.
Ilya began to shift beneath him and Shane waited until he fully sat up to hand over his glass, both taking the first sips of their gross green protein shake together.
-
“What did you do?” Harris crowded over Ilya, sat tying his laces in his stall.
Ilya looked up cautiously from his skates, suddenly alarmed at the fury in Harris’s voice. “Harris, you are mistaking me for Troy, I think.”
“No,” Harris growled. “What did you do to Hollander?”
Ilya’s surprise instantly turned into confusion. He stared up at him in silent bewilderment.
“Shane was all weird and angry with Tasia,” Harris shouted. “Which means you did something!”
“I did not do anything!”
Ilya quickly looked around the locker room for Shane and was met with curious eyes from his teammates at the commotion. He then realized Shane had already stepped away to speak to the reporters before the game.
Harris held up his phone and played a video. Shane was slouched over, arms crossed, not caring to look at the camera. Ilya grabbed the phone and turned up the volume. His answers were so far from Shane, his tone giving Harris fair cause to feel that something was wrong. This was certainly not the same man he walked into the stadium with.
“You did something.” Harris stared into him, jaw clenched. “Fix it.”
Ilya was confused. They had a perfect morning.
-
“I started editing that shoot you did with Roz and Barrett the other day,” Tasia said mindlessly. She stood in between Shane’s knees, adjusting the mic on the collar of his jersey. “It’s hilarious! You mediating between the two.”
Tasia turned and went to adjust one of the big box lights in the corner. Shane's eyes bore into her back.
She spun back around and took her spot on her stool next to the camera.
“Harris wants to curate a post centered on the team’s favorite Canadian players,” Tasia started, a cheerful look on her face. “Per usual, I’ve made a short list of questions to go through and I might throw in a few extras.”
Shane nodded. He stretched his shoulders back and gave a deep sigh. His head was already pounding against his skull. Great.
Tasia held her phone in her lap and pressed record on the camera.
“Where are you from?” Tasia asked excitedly.
“Ottawa.” Shane found the question dumb. Everyone knows my hometown is Ottawa.
“What’s your favorite thing about Ottawa?”
Shane looked up to the ceiling and aimlessly listed his answer. “Good food, lots of places to visit, my parents live here.” His eyes went back down to her and he said, “Ilya and I live here.”
“What’s your favorite city in Canada besides your hometown and why?”
Annoyance rode up Shane’s spine. Does she expect me to say Montreal?
“Vancouver,” Shane said flatly and crossed his arms over his chest, turning his gaze to the Centaurs poster on the wall behind Tasia.
Tasia stared at him, waiting for the answer to the second part of her question. When it didn’t come, another question popped into mind.
“Butter tarts or nanaimo bars?” Tasia asked enthusiastically, leaning forward a touch, naming Ontario and BC’s classic desserts.
“I don’t eat sweets.”
She leaned back, slumped her shoulders and tried again. “In Toronto, we have sushi pizza! Have you tried it before?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, okay.” Tasia tapped her fingernail on her phone screen, becoming slightly unsure of which question to say next. “Favorite Canadian NHL team besides the Centaurs?” She finally asked.
Shane’s eyes met Tasia’s with a hard glare. This has to be a trap.
“Winnipeg.”
Tasia quickly looked away.
“How many questions do you have left?” Shane asked, irritation at the edge of his voice. He felt tension slowly roll into the room, but he didn’t care.
“Right now we’ve done three out of eight.”
“So five,” Shane stated matter of factly, displeased that she didn’t just say the number.
“Correct.”
“And that’s without your little side questions.”
Tasia gulped, worried that she had caught Hollander on a bad day.
-
The horn blared. Every fan in the arena screamed and number 81 signs were scattered everywhere. Rozanov scored his first goal of the night.
Ilya skated by the bench, collecting high fives and slowed to a stop in front of his husband, leaning slightly over the boards to quickly tap his helmet to Shane’s.
“Nice shot, Captain.” Shane winked at Ilya as he pulled back.
Ilya’s smirk grew even wider, a second wave of thrill coursing through his body.
Almost immediately after the line changed, Hollander weaved through the Boston Bears’ defensemen, took a pass from Haas and struck the rubber straight to the net. The puck barely flew over the goalie’s glove, the shot causing the horn to blare through the speakers once more.
The fans flipped their signs around to show the number on the opposite side of the thick paper. The stands were now covered with the number 24.
“Yes!” Shane shouted and went straight for Haas, pulling him into an embrace. Tanner Dillion skated up to join them.
The jumbo screens showed an image of Hollander and Rozanov standing side by side in their jerseys, arms crossed and staring straight into the camera with a tough look. Back to back goals from the Husbands of Hockey.
“Legendary. Never gets old.” Chouinard shouted over the loud volume of the arena, watching the montage now showing on the jumbo screen of Hollander and Rozanov that the media team put together for this exact reason.
Ilya smiled proudly, his stare remaining on the astonishing man he married on the ice. Shane looked over across the rink to the bench, blowing a subtle kiss in Ilya’s direction.
Ilya’s smile grew wider.
For the remainder of the game, Ilya paid close attention to Shane, whose expression remained focused and determined. Ilya didn’t notice anything strange in Shane’s behavior, which continued to trouble him, still unable to figure out what had pissed Shane off earlier that day.
The game went into overtime. Boston had just scored a goal, making them tied. The energy in the entire building was buzzing and grew even larger when Coach Wiebe put Hollander and Rozanov on the ice together. It was an obvious power move and they were all for it.
There was less than a minute left on the clock. Rozanov bent at the waist over the face-off circle and looked up at his opponent, the Bears’ failed attempt to replace him. Joseph Oxley was already looking at him with a sneer.
“I recommend you give up now. There is no point in trying.” Ilya taunted. He heard Shane’s chuckle beside him.
“Do you smell that? The air smells sweeter.” Oxley asked. “A bunch of fruit just rolled onto the ice.”
Barrett let out a laugh on his right side. “That was so bad. Was that supposed to be insulting?”
The puck dropped. Rozanov won the face-off.
Barrett raced forward with the puck, passing it off to Rozanov before he got checked into the boards. Rozanov tapped the side of the puck and it skated between Oxley's legs. He went around him and caught back on his stick. Trying to keep momentum, he went around the back of the net and looked up. Hollander gave him a hard look, fully surrounded.
Rozanov passed it back to Barrett and made sure to be able to receive it back. With a quick drop pass, Rozanov had the puck again. He waited for Hollander to escape the exasperating defensemen and slapped it in his direction. Without a second of hesitation, Hollander snapped his wrist, the puck making its way into the net.
Ilya threw himself on Shane, screaming until he felt his own ears ringing over the sound of the horn.
-
Ilya reclined the seat back in Shane’s car and threw his arm over his head. They both declined the invitation to meet at Monks, wanting to go home and rest after the Centaurs’ win. No one tried to convince them.
“Harris told me you were acting weird earlier.” Ilya carefully mentioned.
Shane glanced next to him before turning back to the road. “I had a headache. But I took some medicine and I feel okay now.”
“You didn’t tell me you had a headache.”
“It wasn’t for long,” Shane brushed off.
Okay, sure. I guess that explains it. Shane is always super crabby when he has a headache.
Harris's angry words clung to him still. Ilya replayed their day before they left, wondering if he did anything to cause Shane's headache. Whatever it was, Ilya already had a solution in mind.
-
When they stepped into their bedroom, Ilya immediately yanked Shane into the bathroom and pushed him back against the counter, Shane’s thighs pressed into the marble. Ilya stepped away to turn on the shower, warm water flooding down from the ceiling.
“We already showered, Ilya,” Shane grinned as he stepped back in front of him.
Ilya gripped his hips, already beginning to tug Shane’s sweatshirt up. He raised his arms and allowed Ilya to pull it off along with his t-shirt underneath. Ilya placed light kisses on his neck and grabbed hold of the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants. He inched Shane’s bottoms down over his ass until they dropped loosely at his ankles.
Shane now stood deliciously vulnerable between Ilya and the marble sink.
“Yes, but you worked so very hard and you are very tired, so we will go in the shower so I can just carry you to bed after,” Ilya said, trailing his breath across the length of Shane’s throat and his hands reached back to cup Shane’s bare ass cheeks.
Shane nearly collapsed in his grasp at Ilya’s thoughtfulness, reminded that Ilya never missed an opportunity to take care of him.
“You worked hard too.” Shane sucked in a breath as Ilya nipped at the spot on the crook of his neck and shoulder. Ilya grinned at his eagerness.
Shane slipped his fingers below the hem of Ilya’s hoodie and felt the hard muscle of his stomach. A quiet groan escaped Shane’s lips, desperate to see what his hands were feeling.
Ilya understood his plea and came up from his feast on the sensitive skin of Shane’s neck to tug at his neckline, pulling off his clothing until Shane could see where his hands rested against Ilya’s torso.
Shane soaked in the rippling muscles of the sculpted man in front of him with heavy lidded eyes. He planted his hands on Ilya’s chest and skimmed his fingers lower until they reached the chiseled V below his belly button, the deep lines pointing to what Shane craved to see the most.
Shane fitted his thumbs between Ilya’s waistband and yanked down hard, pining to see the rest of him and he gasped as if fully seeing his husband for the first time in his life.
Ilya’s stiff cock sprang out and stood proud against his lower stomach.
Shane was now fully intoxicated by the display before him. He finally crashed himself into Ilya's chest, his hands sinking into his soft curls and their lips fully enclosed together.
They moved in a rush, kicking the pile at their feet out of the way as they stumbled into the shower, completely tangled with each other.
The steaming hot water hit their flushed skin and they pulled at each other, even hungrier.
Ilya pressed Shane’s back against the warm wet tile. His tongue chased after Shane’s, trying to satisfy his burning need to taste the entire surface of the soft muscle. Shane widened his mouth and welcomed the familiarity as they passionately grabbed at each other's skin.
They wasted no time.
Shane pulled away, flipped himself around and planted his hands in front of him on the shower wall, the aching growing in his lower stomach becoming too impossible to ignore.
Ilya’s hands ghosted off of Shane’s skin and he heard the bottle cap of their shower lube snap open. A moment later, he felt the slickness of Ilya’s fingertips rimming his starved hole and sighed from his touch.
Ilya gripped Shane’s shoulder, kissed the space between his shoulder blades and slipped in a finger.
Shane let out a satisfied moan as Ilya slowly stroked his prostate. He clenched his hands against the wall, seeking for something to hold during Ilya’s unhurried strokes and fell short, his fingers spread flat back on the hard wet tile. Shane pushed his hips back against Ilya’s hand greedily asking for more.
Ilya pushed another finger all the way in and felt Shane relax around him. Ilya let out a low growl, twisted his wrist and began to move more quickly at the pleasing change, the sound of his palm slapping against Shane’s cheeks louder than the water coming down above them.
Shane groaned loudly until all of the air in his lungs was released into the warm steam. Each thrust of Ilya’s fingers brought Shane to shambles, his feet balanced on their pads on the wet floor as he kept leaning his hips back.
Ilya twisted his wrist again and his knuckles rubbed hard against Shane’s prostate. Shane abruptly threw his head back and cried out. Ilya released his grip on his shoulder and pressed his hand up against the side of Shane’s head, his cheek laid against the tile, forcing him to stay in place.
“How does it feel getting fingered by your captain?” Ilya grunted low in his ear.
Shane groaned, hearing those words made the next excruciating shove of Ilya’s fingers into his ass feel world ending.
“Holy shit, Rozanov.”
Shane felt he could cum right at this moment, a few hard strokes of Ilya’s fingers and he could be finished immediately. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He reached back and grabbed Ilya’s rigid length in his hand.
Ilya swiftly pulled his fingers out and tugged at Shane’s waist, turning him around. He knew what Shane meant by his grab, but Ilya wasn't through with touching him just yet.
He went down to his knees, reached behind Shane’s balls until he could feel his plump rim still slick with lube. He pushed two fingers back in and Ilya took the head of Shane’s stiff cock in his mouth. A sharp gasp came out of Shane as Ilya twirled his tongue around the sensitive pink head and sank deeper while pressing his fingertips firmly on Shane’s blissful spot.
Ilya looked up at Shane through the steam and watched his body writhe endlessly above him at his touch. Shane’s brows were furrowed closely together, his mouth gaping open, his eyes urging Ilya.
Ilya knew what Shane wanted, but his desperate eyes weren’t enough. He wouldn’t accept it. He needed to hear Shane say it.
As if reading his mind, Shane spoke.
“Pozhaluysta,” (“Please,”) Shane pleaded.
Ilya released Shane’s cock from his mouth and withdrew his fingers before quickly standing back up. He turned Shane back around and moved them out of reach of the water.
Shane’s heart began to pound in his chest at the anticipation. His body felt like he was going to combust if Ilya didn’t fuck him right now. He heard the cap of their lube snap closed and he pressed his hands up against the tile of the shower and waited to be filled.
“Do not cum until I say so.”
Before Shane could even speak the word yes, Ilya thrust into him and ground his hips against Shane to ensure he felt every inch of his raw throbbing cock.
Shane threw his head back against Ilya’s shoulder and called out, his voice echoing loudly in the shower. Ilya’s thickness had stretched him out wonderfully and Shane’s mind escaped his body, his body focused on the feeling of being full.
“You want to win just for this, yes?” Ilya growled.
Ilya pulled out slowly, bringing out a long moan out of Shane’s throat as his length grazed over his prostate at the most perfect angle. He pulled his hips back until the edges of his head were just peeking out of Shane’s plump rim.
“F-fuck,” Shane managed to get out.
Ilya smacked a hand hard across Shane’s ass cheek. “Answer me, Hollander.”
Shane cried out in pleasure from the hot sting. “Yes, captain.”
Ilya slammed back into him, his body reacting before his mind could process the sheer ruthless desire those two words poured into him.
Shane’s body was nearly flat against the wall from the force of his thrust. Ilya grazed his teeth against the back of Shane’s neck, completely slick with water and sweat, and moved wildly, his hips as manic as his thoughts.
Ilya wanted to make Shane feel good for as long as possible. Reaching and pulling for every drop of pleasure that Shane’s body could handle all at once. But when Shane says things like that, he feels like he could cum in half a second.
The screaming moans he brought out of Shane rang in Ilya’s ears as they resounded off the walls of the steam filled shower and it invigorated him.
“Your fans don’t know you do such a good job for me. You are perfect. Your ass was made just for my cock.” Ilya rambled on in Russian. He planted a hand next to Shane’s head to hold himself steady with his other hand gripping Shane’s side.
Ilya kept his rising orgasm pushed as far down as possible.
Then Shane ripped every sense out of his body.
“Silneye. Pozhaluysta,” (“Harder. Please,”) Shane gasped breathlessly. “Bolshe. Ya khochu bolshego.” (“More. I want more.”)
Ilya’s body became uncontrollable, his hips smacking hard against Shane’s ass. He was thrusting into Shane so vigorously that Shane’s foot slipped beneath him, but Ilya’s tight grasp on his side kept him in place.
Shane felt like he could pass out right then and there. He couldn’t think, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. All he knew was that his husband was fucking him into the wall. His soul just barely lingered at the edge of his skin, threatening to leave his body. And Shane felt absolutely amazing.
“Stroke yourself, Hollander. Now.”
He obediently reached in front of him and began to stroke himself. He threw his other hand over Ilya’s on the tile and intertwined their fingers together to hold himself down on earth. Shane’s orgasm was coming close, his entire body overwhelmed with a loud buzz.
Shane moaned ferociously as his thick cum painted the tile. He released all his tension and just let himself feel. He was fully drowning in his orgasm as Ilya continued to pound into him from behind.
“Such a good boy for me,” Ilya groaned into his ear as he petted the back of Shane’s head, his fingers combing through his drenched hair.
Ilya pulled Shane’s hips farther back until he was bent over at the waist and dug his cock rapidly into Shane’s ass at an intense speed. He watched in pleasure as Shane attempted to keep his hands up against the wall, slipping ever so slightly each time Ilya pulled him back onto his cock. Shane’s loud gurgled moans still filled his ears to the brim.
Ilya’s orgasm struck him like lightning and his whole body trembled. He squeezed Shane’s hips in a bruising grip and threw his forehead between Shane’s shoulder blades, his hot cum spurting endlessly into Shane.
After a few minutes of trying to recollect their breath, Ilya held Shane up under the rainfall of warm water. Shane’s arms were thrown around Ilya’s neck and his cheek rested against Ilya’s shoulder.
Ilya held him there until Shane’s hold around his neck began to loosen, an indication of a sleepy Shane.
He turned the water off and dried them both off. Ilya threw the wet towels on the bathroom floor, much to Shane’s dismay, and carried his husband off to bed.
Ilya nuzzled himself closely behind Shane and covered their bare bodies with the dense comforter.
“Did that feel good?” Shane asked sleepily. He knew it had to have, but he just liked hearing Ilya say it.
“Perfect. Always perfect.” Ilya whispered back. “Did that feel good?”
Shane hummed, nestling father back against Ilya until there wasn’t a sliver of open space between them.
Ilya smiled and lightly kissed the top of Shane’s damp hair. “No headaches allowed tomorrow.”
***
The following weekend was Wyatt’s Halloween party.
Last year, Dykstra and Caitlin hosted and Wyatt gladly volunteered to hold it this year, but with one condition. Everyone had to dress as a comic book character.
Wyatt stressed that no two people on the team could be the same character. This caused everyone in the Centaurs group chat to immediately call dibs on who they wanted to dress up as. Holmberg and Young argued endlessly over who could be the Joker until Dykstra snagged it from them, claiming that Caitlin wanted to be Harley Quinn.
Ilya decided that he and Shane would be Batman and Robin.
‘Bruce Wayne is wealthy with a big fancy house, cool cars and dead parents. I am him.’
Shane and Ilya walked through the front door of Wyatt and Lisa’s large home and were met with heavy EDM music blasting into their ears. There had to be at least fifty people from what Shane could see in the entryway alone.
“Wow.” Shane gazed up at the decorations as they walked into the grand living room. “Harris really did a number with the decorating.”
Every light throughout the first floor was a different color, whether it be red, green, blue, or purple. Silver reflective balloons lined the walls, sparkly things hung from the ceiling, a fog machine was next to the fireplace, and, unsurprisingly, Wyatt had set out cardboard cutouts of different comic book characters spread out throughout the space.
Shane approached Holmberg, Young and LaPointe, all gathered in a semi circle watching the current game of beer pong on the long plastic table next to the dining room.
“You boys still pissed you couldn’t dress up as a clown?” Shane said mockingly. Holmberg ended up as Deadpool and Young decided on Loki. LaPointe was in a red suit, dressed as the Flash.
“Can’t be too upset after seeing how much makeup Dykstra is wearing.” Young laughed.
“Have you seen Chouinard? Selena painted him red.” Holmberg pointed over to the large sectional couch where Chouinard and his wife sat as Vision and the Scarlet Witch.
Shane laughed to himself, relieved that the only annoying part of his costume was the mask he had to wear over his eyes. He looked over to the table and watched Wolverine and Phoenix play against Aquaman and Mera.
“Sh-Robin!” Ilya shouted over the music. He came up behind Shane with a Corona in his hand and passed him an open bottle of Fever Tree ginger ale. “Look at Luca.”
Shane looked across the living room and turned his gaze to Ilya’s pointed finger. Haas stood next to Wyatt’s giant speaker, dressed as Spiderman and beside him was Dillion in an Iron Man costume.
Shane’s bottom lip lifted in an adoring pout. The boys decided that Haas was going to be Spiderman before he had even checked the group chat messages. And he looked absolutely delighted.
“Late to the party, huh, Roz?” Bood shouted in his direction from the end of the beer pong table, his trident in Cassie’s hand as she waited for Bood to take his turn.
“Rozanov couldn’t decide if he wanted his hair covered or not for like half an hour,” Shane remarked.
Ilya’s costume came with a headpiece along with an eyemask and they stood in front of their bathroom mirror comparing the differences between the two and Shane told him he looked great with either one. Ultimately, Ilya didn’t want his golden curls hidden away.
“Hey, if I let my wife gel up my hair like the Wolverine, we would've arrived way after you guys,” Boyle said.
“You boys are no fun.” Boyle’s wife threw the bright red hair of her wig over her shoulder and tossed her ping pong ball across the table.
Shane’s eyes moved across the connected living room, picking out faces of his teammates and found Wyatt bouncing around the room dressed as the Green Arrow with a bow slung across his back. Lisa was in a Canary costume, sitting on the couch next to Selena and drinking a hard seltzer.
His gaze reached the kitchen, where a large gathering of girls stood along with the rookies, or essentially, the Mutant Ninja Turtles. In the middle stood Shane’s inconvenience. Tasia stood with her hands held behind her back in a tight black latex suit, tall black boots and a short red wig.
And Shane started seething. Of course, she looked hot. She came as the Black Widow.
Shane tugged on Ilya’s elbow. “Let’s go dance.”
Ilya nodded with a smile and they walked over to the crowded living room and stood under one of the many disco balls hung from the high ceiling.
“You guys made it!” Wyatt shouted and threw his arms over their shoulders.
“Good party, Hazy,” Ilya exclaimed in Wyatt’s ear.
“It was mostly Harris. He dragged Barrett here early and he was a huge happy camper about it.” Wyatt gestured to Troy and Harris on the other side of the makeshift dancefloor.
They were Superman and Lois Lane. Or as Harris would say, Superman and Louis Lane. Harris had his arms slung over Troy’s shoulders as he danced and Troy stood in front of him, mindlessly bobbing his head.
Shane chuckled, knowing that he and Ilya would look like that pretty soon.
Wyatt patted them on the back and went back to mingling.
Ilya grabbed Shane by the waist and pulled him close, looking extremely thrilled that Shane wanted to dance together. They both moved with the quick beat, Shane’s hands going up in the air to get a goofy laugh out of Ilya.
Shane spun around and wiggled his butt up against him. He felt ridiculous, but with every single person in the room in full costume and crazy makeup, he realized that everyone looked ridiculous. Shane spun back around, eager to see Ilya’s reaction to his silly move and was more than satisfied when he saw Ilya positively beaming.
For the rest of the night, Shane and Ilya floated around from room to room and enjoyed themselves, Ilya periodically taking pictures of Shane posing next to Wyatt’s cardboard cutouts. They stopped in the basement for a bit when Shane felt too overstimulated and found Dykstra and Chouinard screaming at each other while playing Super Smash Bros in Wyatt's den. Then Ilya played his own match against the winner.
Everywhere Shane wanted to go, he held Ilya loosely by the fingertips and he easily followed, Ilya finding conversation with anyone they ended up close to.
And Shane had every intention of keeping Tasia as far away as possible from his husband.
They were now sitting on the leather sectional with Troy and Boyle when Ilya drank the last swig of his fifth beer of the night. He sat up and pulled his arm back from around Shane’s shoulders.
“I’m going to get another beer,” Ilya said. He glanced down at Shane’s bottle of ginger ale to check if he also needed a refill.
Shane looked over his shoulder at the kitchen. Tasia was there again, sitting on the island next to a girl dressed as Captain Marvel and talking to Caitlin and Selena.
He planted his hand over Ilya’s lap to stop him from getting up.
“No, you stay. I’ll go get it,” Shane said as he stood up from the couch. “You could barely walk right now, Batman.”
He weaved his way through groups of conversations and managed to get to the kitchen.
“Hollzy,” someone called out from behind him.
Shane looked off to the side and spotted one of the Centaurs’ rookie forwards.
“Bones and I went and bought more ice and cases. Could you help us bring them in?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Shane carried in two bags of ice through the garage door and into the kitchen, where Wyatt kept a giant cooler full of drinks. He set the giant bags on the granite countertop and his ears perked up at hearing Rozanov’s name come up in the gathering of ladies close by.
“Chicago is lucky to have Ventura as their captain, but he’s far from being as good as Rozanov,” Tasia said enthusiastically.
Shane scoffed. Of course, she’s talking about Ilya.
He helped Bones scoop out the excess water from the cooler before pouring in a full bag of ice. Shane grabbed a Corona before closing the lid and used the bottle opener on the counter to open it.
He looked around the wide kitchen and no longer spotted Tasia or the WAGs. Shane frowned. He shoved his way back to the living room and found the couch empty.
Shane wanted to vomit.
Panicked, he scanned the room. He couldn’t spot a single one of his friends.
“Big smile, Luca!” Harris’s voice carried in from the sun room just outside the living room.
He slipped through the sliding door and found every Marvel costume from the team gathered together for a photo with Tasia posing in the middle with the Captain Marvel girl.
Shane felt suddenly relieved, over the fact that Ilya had picked out a DC costume and also from having found Ilya standing behind Harris, grinning happily at his teammates.
“Okay, our turn!” Harris shouted and handed Tasia his phone.
The DC costumes all just so happened to be couples' costumes and they all stood next to their respective partners. Wyatt and Lisa took the spot in the center as the hosts.
Tasia snapped a few pics at different angles. “Now a silly one!”
Ilya held up bunny ears behind Shane’s head and Shane reached his hands up to Ilya’s neck, pretending to strangle him.
“Perfect!” Tasia said cheerfully.
Tasia handed Harris his phone back and he swiped through all the pictures, his smile big and wide. Then she approached Troy and Ilya.
“Could I get a photo with Superman and Batman?” She asked kindly.
“Let’s do it,” Troy said, pulling her in between him and Ilya. He looked over at Harris, who was still looking through the pictures on his phone. “Babe.”
Harris promptly held up his phone and Shane stepped out of the way. He stood beside Harris, trying his best not to scowl even though he felt like he was going to combust. Shane had kept Ilya away from arm's reach from her the whole night and the one time he wasn’t, the girl had seized her opportunity.
“So cute. I love it,” Harris said as he continuously pushed his thumb on the camera button.
Troy dropped his arm from around her shoulder and moved to pick Tasia up, signaling Ilya to do the same. Ilya reached for her legs and they lifted her up as she gasped. They held Tasia’s body parallel to the ground and she rested her fingertips under her chin and smiled brightly.
They set her back down on her feet and she darted over to where Captain Marvel stood, giggling in excitement.
“Turtles! Picture!” Harris shouted over his shoulder.
Shane wanted to strangle her.
-
At the end of the night, Shane had to hold Ilya as they staggered into the bedroom and Ilya plopped back onto his side of the large bed. Shane stood at the end holding his and Ilya’s eye mask in his hand.
“Lyubimyy, we have to get your costume off.” Shane sighed. He tossed their masks on the ottoman and scratched the back of his neck, unsure of the best course of action.
He’ll have to help Ilya out of his costume while he’s lying down.
“Pomogite mne, pozhaluysta,” (“Help me, please,”) Ilya slurred with his eyes closed. He raised his arms over his head, hitting the headboard, as if that would help.
The zipper, unfortunately, was on the back and was impossible to reach with Ilya's current position.
Shane climbed onto the bed on his knees and patted Ilya’s hard chest. “Povernut.” (“Turn.”)
Ilya rolled over onto his stomach. Shane reached up and found the small zipper tucked under the lining and unzipped the back of the Batman costume. He then pushed the black tank top underneath as far up to Ilya’s shoulders as he could.
“Povernis ko mne,” (“Turn to me,”) Shane instructed.
Ilya flipped back over, his eyes still closed.
“Podnimite ruki.” (“Raise your hands.”)
Ilya raised his hands up in the air and nearly smacked Shane across the face in the process. Shane tugged on the sleeves until his arms were bare and pulled Ilya's tank top up and over his head. Half of Ilya’s costume was now piled on his waist.
“Podnimi bedra.” (“Lift your hips.”)
Ilya’s bottom lifted off the bed and Shane inched the costume down his hips and yanked the rest off of his legs, socks included.
“Trusy,” (“Underwear,”) Ilya mumbled.
Shane chuckled and he reached for the waistband of Ilya’s black boxer briefs. Ilya raised his hips up once more and Shane slipped his underwear off.
“Idi syuda, moya lyubov.” (“Come here, my love.”) Ilya stretched his arm out over Shane’s side of the bed, waiting for him to fill the space.
Shane lovingly looked down at his drunk husband and pressed a long kiss on his warm bare chest before climbing off the bed.
Ilya felt the weight change and he groaned softly, his eyebrows wrinkling together.
“Odna sekunda,” (“One second,”) Shane said.
Shane reached behind his head and pulled the small zipper down as much as he could, then moved his arms around his back to pull it the rest of the way down.
“Potoropites, pozhaluysta.” (“Hurry, please.”) Ilya grew impatient and lightly squirmed in his spot.
“Pochti gotovo,” (“Almost ready,”) Shane chuckled. He peeled his Robin costume and the rest of his clothing off and set his knee back on the mattress, ready to finally settle in.
Ilya felt the bed sink and he sleepily scooted himself deeper into Shane’s side of the bed, his skin itching to feel his husband.
Shane reached for the large throw blanket on the ottoman at the foot of the bed and spread it open. He finally laid his head on Ilya’s warm chest, pulled the plush blanket over their naked bodies and wrapped his arm around Ilya’s torso.
Ilya sighed contentedly and pulled Shane closer. “Nebesnyy.” (“Heavenly.”)
-
Ilya woke up in an empty bed.
He reached into the space next to him and felt no Shane. He moved his hand up to the pillow where his husband’s head normally rested and there was nothing but the plush pillow. Peeling his eyes the slightest bit open, Ilya noticed the room was surprisingly dark. Confused, he rolled over and tapped his finger on his phone screen. It was 10 am. Weird.
How long has Shane been awake?
Ilya groggily sat himself up, slouched over, and he scanned the dark room for any signs of Shane. He was nowhere to be found. With his eyes now half open, he just now realized that the curtains were closed, keeping the morning sunlight from blaring in through their floor to ceiling windows.
Shane must’ve closed them. Thank goodness.
He slowly slid out of bed and trudged his way to the bathroom, hoping to find Shane on the toilet or something. Ilya stepped in, turned the light on and saw the bathroom vacant. He pursed his lips in a pout. Still no Shane. He squinted against the light and stood at his sink. The reflection in the mirror was a naked disheveled wreck. Ilya’s hair went up in every direction, some of it pressed flat against his forehead from sleeping on his stomach. He ran a hard palm over his face to wake himself up and got to brushing his teeth. Once he finished washing his face, he brushed his wet fingers through his frizzy mess of curls and sighed.
Where is Shane?
Ilya wandered to their walk-in closet because Shane might be quietly putting laundry away. He stood in the walkway and stared. Shane wasn’t in the closet. Ilya walked to the middle of the large space as he scratched at his back and slowly turned in a circle, thinking that perhaps his eyes were still drowsy and didn’t see him. But nope. It was as bare as it was when he had first walked in. He pulled out a pair of fleece shorts from Shane’s drawer and slipped them on.
Maybe Shane was already downstairs.
Ilya made his way over to his nightstand to grab his phone. Next to it was a bottle of pedialyte and ibuprofen, of course, but a yellow sticky note on the bottle is what caught his eye.
Don't vomit in bed please.
I’ll be back soon.
Love you ♡
Oh. Shane isn’t home.
But a breath later, he heard the loud metal rumble of the garage door opening.
Ilya sped down the stairs, the hurried desire of laying his eyes on Shane overcoming his body. He padded down the hallway and followed the sound of movement. Then he saw him.
Shane was standing in the kitchen with a thick jacket, a pink nose and rosy cheeks. All perfect and handsome and sexy and adorable.
Ilya felt like he could finally breathe.
Shane is here.
And groceries covered their kitchen island.
“You went shopping?” Ilya walked over to Shane, took the front of his jacket in his hands and peeled it off of him.
“Good morning,” Shane quickly leaned in with his lips puckered and stole a peck on Ilya’s cheek. “I went down to make you coffee this morning, but we were out of creamer.”
Ilya looked around him. Shane bought more than just creamer.
He set Shane’s jacket on the counter, not wanting to leave to hang it up in the coat closet, and noticed two large boxes next to him. He pulled the stacked boxes close and looked them over.
“I didn't know Costco had those in bulk,” Shane commented. He started to rummage through the plastic bags and unloaded the groceries.
The box on top was a 30 pack case of snickerdoodle protein cookies. Ilya bought one to try during a quick stop at the supplement store the other week and mentioned that it tasted good.
“If you eat one of those a day, then we could have it in our pantry for a full month,” Shane said, grabbing three plastic bags and carrying them into their walk-in pantry. Ilya silently followed with the two cases in his arms and waited in the doorway.
“I could go buy more next month if you still like them, but I still bought the other flavor that you always buy too. The peanut butter ones? If you still wanted those.” Shane dug through each bag one by one and placed the food in their respective spot on the shelves.
“I guess now that I’m thinking about it, you could have two protein cookies a day if you eat one of each flavor.” Shane turned to take the boxes from Ilya and looked at him with a hard stare. “But you shouldn’t.”
Ilya threw him an innocent smile. He probably will eat two a day.
It was clear to Ilya that Shane is in one of his rare moods where he likes to ramble aimlessly in his smooth voice. And when Shane is in the middle of one of his rare moods, Ilya likes to listen.
He trailed behind Shane as they walked back over to the kitchen island. Shane opened the refrigerator and Ilya stood out of the way, leaning against the marble countertop. He felt it best to leave Shane to do his thing when it came to organizing their groceries because anything that Ilya would put away would eventually be moved because he put it in the wrong place. And Shane would be less inclined to cuddle later.
“I'll make breakfast so you can go lay down on the couch. I'm making eggs and bacon,” Shane said as he set a carton of two dozen eggs next to the stove.
From the next plastic bag came Ilya’s coffee creamer. The stupid catalyst that caused him to wake up alone. He bore his eyes into it until Shane set it in the fridge.
“And I'll toast a bagel if you want to make it a sandwich. I remembered to buy your cheese. Oh, I forgot to start the coffee.” Shane threw the large pouches of spinach in the vegetable drawer of the fridge and rushed to the coffee maker.
“Do you want your eggs scrambled? I'm feeling scrambled today,” Shane said casually. The coffee maker started brewing.
Ilya laughed to himself.
“Look at this blanket I bought Anya.” Shane whipped out a plush pink throw blanket from the following bag and handed it over to Ilya.
They forgot to bring in Anya’s blanket after she hauled it out on the back patio. It rained a few days ago and by the time they realized where it was, her blanket got all gross and smelly. They unfortunately had to throw it away.
“I couldn’t decide between that one or a yellow one, but that pink matches her things at the cottage,” Shane commented.
Ilya felt the soft fabric of the blanket. It was definitely nicer than the previous one that he purchased at the dog hotel. They’ll have to ban Anya from bringing this one outside.
“Costco didn’t have the nice hickory smoked bacon we usually get for whatever fucking reason, so I got this one,” Shane scoffed and threw a pack of bacon next to the eggs. It was from a brand they’ve definitely had before. And it was applewood smoked.
“I didn’t want to stop at another store in case you woke up before I got back, but it looks like you already did. You'd better have drunk the pedialyte.”
Ilya didn't.
“And I bought salmon for dinner tonight. Do you wanna eat salmon?” Shane turned to face Ilya.
Ilya couldn’t help himself anymore. For the past ten minutes, he watched Shane float around the kitchen being unfairly adorable. Ilya was absolutely enamored by Shane’s mindless rambling and all he wanted to do was put his mouth on his. So when Shane finally stopped moving, Ilya finally moved.
Ilya slowly crept towards Shane with a sweet grin and got in front of him, inching him backwards until Shane was up against the island.
“What?” Shane asked with a chuckle. He looked preciously flustered.
Without answering, Ilya lifted Shane by the back of his thighs and set him on the marble. He stood between Shane’s legs and passionately pressed their lips together. Ilya took a deep breath, taking him in. Shane smelled delicious.
Ilya felt his husband’s fingers bury themselves in his mess of curls and tug lightly. Shane opened his lips to welcome Ilya in and he kindly accepted the invitation, happy to indulge. He took a gentle swipe of Shane’s tongue and softly hummed. Shane tasted delicious.
This was what Ilya had been wanting to do since he woke up. Since the second he finally laid his eyes on him. To completely consume himself in Shane Hollander.
Ilya pulled his lips away when he felt delightedly dizzy and set his chin against Shane’s as he gazed up at him.
“You're so cute,” Ilya said affectionately. “And I want to eat you.”
“That would be terrible for our marriage,” Shane joked, his smile beaming.
Ilya undid the button on Shane's pants.
***
It was now November and a coating of snow laid across the entirety of Ottawa. But, of course, Bood decided it wasn’t too cold.
The team had come back from their trip to Columbus the night before and Bood wanted to bring everyone’s spirits up after their loss. And Bood just wanted a reason to have a barbecue.
Ilya locked his Porsche as he and Shane walked up the steps to Bood’s front door, Anya cradled in Ilya’s arms. He knocked once and turned the knob a moment later.
“My dear well mannered husband,” Shane said teasingly. Ilya chuckled and threw him a cheeky grin over his shoulder.
Ilya led them through Boodram's kitchen and out the sliding door onto the enormous heated deck. Smoke was billowing into the air from the heavy duty grill Bood was tending to, Dykstra laughing into his ear and swinging his beer around.
“Looks like Bood would not have answered the door anyway.” Ilya set Anya down and she ran straight towards the yard where Chiron was rolling in the snow. Shane laughed at the truth behind Ilya’s words. The man was clearly preoccupied.
Shane carried in a small tray of freshly baked rolls that he and Ilya had made together that afternoon and set them on the serving table covered with platters. He was sure Ilya still had flour lodged under his nails. Bringing food to Zane Boodram's famous barbecues is cause for an earache from Bood himself, so they both felt it appropriate to bring something insignificant to the table.
The whole team was here except for Coach Wiebe, who decided to spend his Saturday off with his family. Which means the kids could play.
Troy and Harris came with four cases of Drover Cider, which Ilya happily helped himself to one, and then two, and then three. The rookies brought cases of sodas, Wyatt and Lisa carried in a large fruit tray, Chouinard showed up with Selena, who proudly held two bottles of wine, and Dykstra and Caitlin brought a bag of hickory wood for Bood from their own stash from home. The rest of the guys brought beer. No surprise there.
Later in the night, after everyone had their large fill of ribs and steaks, they were all scattered across the spacious deck, music faintly playing in the background.
Shane and Ilya sat together in the loveseat at Bood’s large fire pit, Ilya’s hand resting comfortably around Shane’s waist, holding him close. Troy and Harris sat across from them, along with Luca Haas, Young and LaPointe.
“How many jet skis do you have?” Luca asked Shane, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.
“I’ve got two of them at the cottage. Kawasakis.” Shane enjoyed the confusion that quickly crossed Luca’s face.
“Kawasakis?” Luca asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means they are very fast,” Ilya said with a shit-eating grin.
Shane looked over at the pleased Russian sitting next to him and squeezed his hand that was currently resting on Ilya’s thigh. “I think they may be the only reason why this asshole married me, actually.”
“Well, it definitely wasn’t for your car,” Ilya remarked.
Shane raised his hand and landed it across Ilya’s thigh in a hard smack. Ilya held him closer as he laughed and Shane settled closer into his side, seeking more warmth as the sun was finally starting to hide away.
Harris looked up from his phone with an exasperated expression. “I shouldn’t have looked that up. I don’t even wanna say how much your jet skis cost.”
“Yes, well, my very sexy rich husband could buy twenty more if he wanted to,” Ilya said, pressing a long kiss onto Shane’s rosy cheek.
“We’ve been looking into buying a wake boat.” Shane rubbed at his cheek with his sleeve to wipe off the spit Ilya purposely left behind. “Ilya’s never gone tubing.”
“You guys are buying a whole ass boat so Roz could ride a moving inflatable?” Troy said, sitting up in his seat with his eyebrows raised to his hairline.
Shane shrugged. He never realized how dumb it kind of sounded until Barrett said it out loud. Nevertheless, Shane wanted that boat. He and Ilya had more ideas for owning a larger boat besides going tubing, which were the naked kind of ideas.
Ilya took a swig of his cider with a smug look spread across his face, then he reached over Shane and set his bottle down on the side table next to him.
“I’m going to go check on Anya, moya lyubov.” Ilya stood and grazed his fingertips under Shane’s chin.
“Don’t take too long. I’ll freeze.” Shane replied in Russian, letting Ilya’s fingers tilt his face up.
Ilya glanced at the large fire behind him, then back to Shane and chuckled. “Nikogda.”
Shane’s naturally rosy cheeks became impossibly redder and he grinned up at his husband. Ilya leaned down and left a kiss on his lips before walking away to find Anya, who he suspected was napping inside with Chiron.
“You guys are so fucking gross,” Troy grumbled and the rest of the guys laughed.
Shane didn’t care. He hugged himself and sank into the cushion savoring the warm fuzziness that Ilya was still able to bring out in him.
-
Ilya accidentally woke Anya up after he couldn’t resist petting her back while she was sleeping soundly on the fuzzy rug in Cassie’s office.
Anya followed closely behind Ilya’s heel as he stepped through the sliding door and back outside. Next to the table array of food stood Tasia, a familiar face and the rest of the WAGs.
“Stasya!” Ilya exclaimed and walked over to give her a quick hug. “I thought you were busy tonight.”
“I was, but Harris texted saying you guys were still here,” Tasia said, leaving her arm wrapped around his back. She enthusiastically gestured to the taller woman next to her and he recognized her from the Halloween party. “Roz, I want you to meet Leona. She’s visiting from New York.”
Ilya gave the tall blonde a warm smile and held out his hand. “Don’t tell me you like Scott Hunter.”
-
At the fire pit, LaPointe and Barrett were discussing the new cafe two blocks from the practice rink when Harris jumped from his seat.
“Tasia’s here! I’ll be back.”
Shane’s eyes followed Harris as he made his way across the deck to find Tasia, who was, for some reason, clinging to his husband. She laughed and he saw her pull Ilya closer.
His hands began to tremble. Shane was so fed up with Tasia. She’s been here not even five minutes and she’s already got her hands on him. Ilya stood next to her, looking completely oblivious, talking to the gathering in front of him. And Shane felt pissed the fuck off.
He wanted to run up there and yank her arm off of him, yell at her face and tell her to stay the hell away from his man until she ran away crying.
Shane pulled his eyes away, looking for something to distract him from doing exactly that because he was seconds away from launching himself off the loveseat. Ilya left his cider on the table, still full, just having opened it. Shane snatched it up and took two gulps of the cider. Then he downed the rest.
“Woah, Hollzy. Think you could walk after that?”
Shane licked his lips, looked over at Barrett and, with his heart still pounding, felt daring.
“Your stomach doing okay after eating all those ribs earlier?” Shane snickered, remembering what happened during the last barbecue. “All I’m thinking is that my stomach won’t be the one blowing up Cassie’s toilet.”
Luca covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.
-
Ilya looked over to the firepit wanting to wave Shane over and witnessed something alarming. Shane set the empty glass bottle down and Ilya quickly walked back over to him. He rounded the back of the sofa and stood behind Shane.
“Moya Lyubov?” Ilya cupped a hand under Shane’s chin, tilting his head back, the top of his head resting against his stomach.
Shane’s sheepish eyes looked up at him. “Mhm?”
Ilya stared back as his thumb wiped off the last drop of cider on the corner of Shane’s mouth.
“I checked with Cassie if they had ginger ale. I can get you one.”
“Yes, please,” Shane replied.
Ilya nodded towards the house. “Come with me.”
Shane stood and followed Ilya. “Worried you’ll get lost?” he asked jokingly.
“Someone tell Bood that Roz and Hollzy are about to fuck in his kitchen.” One of the guys hollered. Ilya didn’t react, so neither did Shane.
Ilya reached for Shane’s hand and led him inside and into the kitchen, letting go once they were stopped in front of the fridge, facing one another.
‘What’s wrong?” Ilya asked.
“What?” Shane was stunned at the sudden change.
“You drank alcohol.”
Uh oh.
“Harris brought so many, I didn’t want to look bad,” Shane stuttered.
“You drank alcohol because you are worried about Harris's feelings,” Ilya deadpanned.
Shane shrank, his eyes struggling to keep focus under Ilya’s intense stare. “Yeah?”
Ilya watched him for a moment, frowning. His husband wasn’t being honest with him. “You don't drink during the season,” he stated.
“It’s not a big deal. It's just cider.”
“Did something happen?” Ilya asked with a worried look.
“No.” Shane shook his head.
“Is there a problem?”
“No.”
“One of the boys upset you? Which one was it? I'll beat their shit,” Ilya threatened. Someone had to have said something to Shane and offended him. And Ilya was about to make sure that it would never happen again.
Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand, hoping he would be able to hold him back in case he decided to unnecessarily charge at the men outside. “No! Ilya, don’t touch your teammates.”
Ilya took a long deep breath and took another second to look at his husband. Shane is bothered. Ilya could see it all over his face. A normal Shane would’ve called him an asshole and walked away, wouldn’t have hesitated when Ilya asked him why he drank. So Ilya asked again.
“Why did you drink the cider?” Ilya caressed the back of his fingers down Shane’s cheek.
Shane sighed and looked off to the side, then down to their feet, looking anywhere besides Ilya’s worried eyes.
“You didn’t come back right away,” Shane mumbled. “I got upset. It’s dumb. Let’s go back.” He took a step, but Ilya tugged him back at his waist.
Ilya wasn’t fully convinced. It wasn’t like Shane just took a sip of his cider. He drank nearly a full bottle of it. Basically gulped it down in one go.
There were still months left in the season and Shane wasn’t known for being reckless about his own rules. No drinking during the season is always at the top of his list. Something triggered Shane, and Ilya even felt himself getting upset over not having been able to prevent it.
Shane clearly wasn’t going to tell Ilya the real cause of his unusual impulse, and trying to push him more right now won’t get the explanation out of him any quicker. Whatever happened while Ilya stepped away could very well happen again, but Ilya would rather save Shane from that trouble while he still can.
“We can go home now, if you want,” Ilya offered softly, pulling him close.
“No, I don't want to go home yet.” Shane finally brought his eyes back to Ilya’s, fully adamant.
They stared at each other in silence, unsure of who would be the first to try to convince the other. Ilya wanted to take Shane home. He was more than willing to tuck into bed early and snuggle up next to Shane for the rest of the night. However, Shane’s immediate refusal to leave being the one reason why they were staring at each other’s eyes right now is making Ilya second guess that option.
Ilya was the one to surrender, stepping back to open the fridge and grabbing a can of Canada Dry.
“You will tell me when you want to leave, yes?” Ilya continued to stare into Shane's eyes, holding his eye contact for as long as Shane would allow, wanting to make sure that he knew that they could pick up and leave whenever Shane wanted.
“Yes,” Shane replied. His shoulders finally were able to relax.
Ilya’s fingers were fully gripped around Shane’s as they made their way back to the warmth of the fire pit. Ilya opened Shane's ginger ale and set it on the table, knocking the empty Drover Cider out of the way. They sat back down on the loveseat and Ilya pulled at Shane’s waist as he nestled as close as he could into Ilya’s side.
Ilya leaned over and kissed the spot under Shane’s ear.
“Roz, you could’ve kept the mushy stuff inside,” Troy scoffed from the other side of the fire pit.
“Shut your mouth, Barrett,” Ilya snapped back. He had every intention to grill every single guy sitting at this fire pit the next time he saw them at practice.
The last of Shane’s tension washed away, finding comfort in being wrapped in Ilya’s arm again.
Shane couldn’t help but feel mushy.
***
The day before their flight to Toronto, Harris had Shane and Ilya sitting in front of the camera in the social media studio.
Camera already recording, Harris handed Shane a small stack of cue cards and he flipped through the questions written on them.
Shane chuckled. “He’s not gonna know half of these.”
“I will know all of them,” Ilya said proudly next to him.
“Definitely not. I don’t remember the last time you had a conversation with our teammates where you didn’t talk about yourself.” Shane said, shaking his head with a small grin.
Harris wanted to make a lighthearted video of Shane testing how well Ilya knew his team. He didn’t tell them the idea until they both walked into the room, knowing Ilya would try to cheat and study beforehand.
Offended, Ilya looked straight into the lens of the camera.
“Keep this in. Hollander doesn’t believe in me or my intelligence.”
Shane scoffed.
“Keep this in. Rozanov only likes the sound of his own voice.”
They looked at each other playfully and Ilya shoved Shane’s shoulder.
“Shane, when you’re ready!” Harris prompted, excited to see how this played out.
Shane read out the question on the first card. “What year did Zane Boodram join the Ottawa Centaurs?”
“2014,” Ilya answered quickly.
Shane nodded and flipped to the next card. “What is Wyatt Hayes currently reading during flights?”
“Forever People #4.”
He smiled as he flipped to the next card. He didn’t think Ilya would know that one.
“What is Evan Dykstra’s favorite fish to catch?”
“Walleye. He has yet to catch a musky. Whatever that is.” Ilya laughed.
“Which player on the team has your poster in their childhood bedroom?” Shane looked expectantly at his husband, brows raised.
Ilya looked back at him with a smug smile. “Our love child, Luca Haas.”
Shane shook his head, his grin splitting his face and read out the next card. “What is Shane Hollander’s favorite drill to practice?”
“Ilya Rozanov.”
Shane smacked him on the back of the head with the cue cards while Ilya cracked up in his chair. “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”
“I knew he was gonna say that. Troy owes me ten bucks.” Harris rolled his eyes behind the camera.
Tasia quietly slipped through the doorway into the room and stood next to Harris behind the camera. Shane barely glanced at her, choosing to completely ignore her presence in the room so as not to ruin the enjoyment he was having. But then his husband acknowledged her.
“Got bored editing?” Ilya asked Tasia.
“Yep,” Tasia replied with a grin. “I saw that Harris put you guys down for today on his calendar, so I thought I’d stop in to watch! And I’m also really curious to see how well Ilya Rozanov knows his teammates,” she said the last part playfully.
Shane wanted to roll his eyes.
“Does everyone think I don’t know my friends?” Ilya asked, laughing in disbelief.
“Not exactly.” Harris chuckled loudly behind the camera. “I’m saying this with love, but Shane is right,”
They both turned their gaze to Harris, fully intrigued. Ilya had his eyebrows raised and waited for him to explain further.
“But when you’re not talking about yourself, you’re talking about Shane.” Harris shrugged, stating the obvious. “We know more about you guys than you do us at this point!”
“Not entirely untrue. Shane, what’s the next question?” Ilya said with a quirk to his lips.
Shane bit back a smile and read off the rest of the cue cards. He was pleasantly surprised when Ilya knew all but one question, even more surprised that he didn’t know what team Tanner Dillion was on before he joined the Centaurs.
“How did you know Troy’s favorite ice cream flavor? I’ve never seen the guy touch sugar the entirety I've known him.” Shane finally asked when he thought Harris stopped recording.
“I just notice these things.” Ilya smiled.
“You holding onto any more secrets?”
“I know a lot of secrets,” Ilya replied plainly. He reached over Shane’s lap and grabbed his hand, now empty.
“Care to share?” Shane asked, his tone curious.
Ilya stared adoringly into Shane’s big hopeful eyes.
“I know you like to kiss me after I eat sweets so you can taste them. I know that you drink from my water bottle more than your own. I know that you cuddle Anya on my side of bed when I go out.” Ilya’s gaze intensified with his next sentence. “And I know that you wear my socks when we have to fly somewhere.”
Shane’s eyes widened. He felt his heart sputter, then quicken, until it was pounding against his ribs.
He most certainly wasn’t expecting Ilya to spill all of that from his halfhearted request.
“Ty krasneyesh,” (“You’re blushing,”) Ilya whispered with an affectionate look on his face. Shane was speechless.
It was moments like this that reminded Shane that they both fought tooth and nail to be exactly right here. A decade ago, he would have never believed that he would hear Ilya Rozanov say those words to him, that Ilya had always silently paid attention to things that may seem so minute to others, but massive for Shane.
And they were all true. How Ilya recognized all of it was beyond Shane. Especially the socks.
When they were getting dressed for a flight, Shane always made sure he grabbed a pair from Ilya’s sock drawer after he’d completely left the room. It was a strange urge that Shane had one time after feeling overwhelmingly anxious before their first road trip together to Florida. He needed something of Ilya’s or else he’ll have a full blown panic attack over his husband being on an airplane, so he landed on socks.
Since then, he felt a sense of consolation when he wore Ilya’s socks on flights. Even wore them if Ilya had to fly somewhere without him. It wouldn’t completely ease his endless fear of Ilya dying in a plane crash, but it helped. Shane would have a piece of Ilya with him at all times.
Forgetting they weren’t the only two people in the room, Ilya leaned forward and placed a soft tender kiss on Shane’s lips. Ilya pulled back slightly, their lips just barely grazing each other, and whispered. “Ya tebya lyublyu.” (“I love you.”)
Shane leaned back slowly to see the entirety of Ilya’s face in full vision. His eyes grew soft as he took in every detail of the thoughtful man in front of him. “Ya lyublyu tebya beskonechno.” (“I love you endlessly.”)
Harris and Tasia smiled at each other. Harris reached up, pressed a button on the camera, and finally stopped recording.
***
“Is a ten minute walk, Shane!” Ilya shouted.
Shane just got out of the hotel shower, washing away the airport germs.
“We’re grabbing dinner with the boys in 3 hours. It’s too early for dessert,” Shane responded and he stepped out of the bathroom purposely omitting a towel. Ilya was sitting at the foot of their bed waiting for him.
“No it’s not.” Ilya shook his head. “Dessert can be eaten at any time. That is weird propaganda.”
Over the past few days, Ilya has been talking nonstop about beavertails before their road trip to Toronto and scolded Shane for never introducing him to such a delicacy. As soon as they walked into their hotel room, Ilya looked up the directions on how to get there.
“You take forever to get ready. We’ll be late. We can stop there after,” Shane offered. Shane had zero intentions of leaving their hotel room before dinner. He wanted to be in bed with Ilya until the very last possible moment.
“It will be closed after dinner and you will say no tomorrow.” Ilya stared at him with big wide eyes, not even acknowledging that Shane stood completely naked in front of him.
“Ask one of the guys. I'm sure Wyatt would definitely go with you tomorrow.” Shane put his hands on his hips, dumbfounded that his husband hadn’t already thrown him on the bed.
“I want to go with you,” Ilya begged. “Right now.”
Ilya continued to stare up at him. Shane gave a long sigh and snatched a pair of underwear from his suitcase, easily giving in to the puppy dog eyes of his asshole husband. Ilya lightly smacked Shane’s bare ass cheek, happy to not have used a lot of effort in convincing.
They quickly got dressed in a pair of sweats and a thick jacket and set out in the cold to find the shop Ilya had been eager to visit, the November air biting at their cheeks.
When they stepped into the warm shop, the strong smell of sugar hit Shane in the face. Ilya didn’t care to look at the menu, immediately approaching the cashier.
“What do you recommend?” Ilya asked the employee taking orders at the counter.
Shane stayed back and waited out of the line, looking down at his shoes. He really wanted to avoid being noticed by anyone who might recognize them. Toronto hockey fans aren’t exactly huge on Hollander and Rozanov.
Ilya returned after paying with a cheeky grin and patiently waited next to Shane.
“Order for Lily!” A worker shouted a few minutes later. Shane looked at Ilya incredulously. Lily? Really?
“What? We’re in enemy territory.” Ilya shrugged.
Shane and Ilya found an open table by the window and Ilya laid out all their food and drinks.
“Ilya, we have a game tomorrow. You’re gonna eat all of this?” Shane asked with a grimace.
“No, we are going to eat it together,” Ilya responded matter-of-factly.
“Yeah fucking right. Absolutely not.” Shane leaned back in his seat.
“Absolutely yes. It’s my first time and I want to enjoy with my love.”
Shane looked down at the spread. Ilya bought two beaver tails, beaver bites, poutine and two large hot chocolates.
“Just one bite of each?” Ilya asked with a charming smile. His fingers were itching to grab the chocolate smothered pastry, but he wanted to wait until Shane agreed.
Shane blew out a small breath and smiled tenderly back at Ilya’s expression. “One bite of each.”
Ilya finally reached for the chocolate beavertail, happy once again to not have used a lot of effort in convincing.
Later, they began to walk back to the hotel holding their large hot chocolates, sugar still coating Shane’s mouth after he took more than one bite each of Ilya’s grand selection.
“Did you like the food?” Ilya asked, a thick puff of his breath escaping his lips.
“Yeah, I liked it. Did you like the food?”
“It was very good, yes,” Ilya responded. “What did you love the best?”
Shane thought back to everything Ilya had ordered. The pistachio beavertail was clearly superior to the chocolate one, but Shane knew what he kept taking generous bites out of the most.
“The poutine with the bacon,” Shane finally answered. “What did you love the best?”
“The poutine too.”
Shane grinned to himself. He knew Ilya’s real answer was the chocolate covered beavertail topped with even more chocolate. But he sighed happily and bit his tongue, savoring in his husband’s effort to love what he loved.
Shane took a sip of his hot chocolate, his arm hooked around Ilya’s as they strolled.
“Did you find that place on Instagram or something?” Shane asked.
“Stasya recommended it.” Ilya stopped them at the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the signal to cross.
“Mm. Great.” Shane rolled his eyes.
“She’s from Toronto, remember?” Ilya nodded his chin forward and they crossed the street.
“I remember,” Shane muttered under his breath and changed the subject before he got pissed off. “What’s that over there?”
They walked past a park with a pond lined in red. Shane started walking toward it and Ilya followed. After one pass around the pond, Shane realized it was in the shape of a heart.
“How romantic!” Ilya took his phone out and held it up in the air with Shane beside him, the heart shaped pond in full view in the background. They raised their cups and smiled brightly at the camera. Grinning, Ilya posted the selfie to his Instagram story.
“I thought you said we were in enemy territory. You just revealed our secret location,” Shane said jokingly.
Ilya tugged Shane into his chest and planted a quick peck on his cheek. “I am having beautiful time on a walk with hot chocolate and my husband. I’m too happy to care.”
-
Back at the hotel, Ilya shoved Shane on the bed to his surprise.
“What? You think I would forget?” Ilya asked teasingly.
They had an hour before they had to meet the guys in the lobby for dinner. Which was the perfect amount of time in their experience.
Shane scooted higher up the bed, a giant smile on his face.
Ilya crawled up to him on the bed with a smug smirk. “I think I did not get my fill of sugar today. Do you happen to have anything hard and sweet?”
“Hm, I’d have to check what I have in my inventory.” Shane leaned back on the plush mountain of hotel pillows with his hands behind his head.
“I think I recall seeing all of your inventory earlier today,” Ilya said, finally hovering over Shane. He tucked his fingers in the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants. “I hope you don’t mind if I help myself.”
Shane giggled and lifted his hips off the bed, allowing Ilya to pull his bottoms off. Shane’s erection sprang out of his pants and laid stiff on his skin.
“My lucky day,” Ilya said with his smirk growing wider. “I see something hard and sweet right in front of me.”
Shane’s heart began to race in anticipation. A hotel room blow job from a sexy Russian man will always feel nostalgic and thrilling, no matter how long he and Ilya have been together.
Ilya pushed the bottom of Shane’s hoodie up and placed small kisses around his belly button. He looked up at Shane and pressed another kiss beneath it.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Ilya said quietly against his skin.
“Whatever you want. I just want to watch you,” Shane responded, looking down adoringly at his doting husband.
Need not say more, Ilya set himself comfortably between Shane’s legs. He wrapped an arm around Shane’s thigh and propped a leg up over his shoulder. He trailed the skin of his inner thigh with soft gentle kisses until his mouth reached Shane’s groin.
“My pretty boy.”
Ilya locked his eyes with Shane’s and ran his tongue up the prominent ridge of his shaft. Shane let out a soft long moan.
“So sweet for me.”
He held Shane’s dick up with his free hand and took the firm pink head in his mouth. Ilya swirled his tongue around the soft skin, lapping up the precum that had already dripped down. Shane squirmed and Ilya popped him out of his mouth. Then he flicked the slit with the tip of his tongue over and over again while Shane’s hips twitched beneath him.
“So delicious.”
Ilya finally sank his mouth on Shane’s throbbing cock, their eyes still locked with each other. Shane’s eyes were so full of heat and already looked like he was trying to force them to stay open. Ilya pushed Shane into his mouth as far as he could and tightened his throat around Shane’s tip.
Shane moaned loudly. Ilya flattened his tongue against his shaft and slowly drew his head back up. The look on Shane’s face was overflowing in lust and Ilya couldn’t help but start moving his hips against the bed to relieve the ache pulsating in his own erection.
He continued to suck on Shane’s stiff length slowly and indulgently, making sure every surface was slick with his spit. Ilya slid his palm across the hard muscles of Shane’s stomach and went higher until his palm was fully enclosed over Shane’s pec, his thumb rubbing gently over his nipple.
It riles something up in Ilya every time they both silently decide to watch each other like this. And it aroused him even more when it was clear that Shane’s body wanted to clench his eyes closed, but he would earnestly try to fight against it.
Ilya moaned around Shane’s cock when he felt a rush gradually building up low inside him.
“I wanna make you feel good too,” Shane moaned out, his head tipping back and trying his hardest to keep his gaze locked with Ilya’s.
Ilya thought to slow down his hips, but the sentiment that Shane just spoke made it impossible for him to. Shane was throat deep in Ilya’s mouth and his concern for Ilya’s pleasure completely set him off. And watching Shane submit to his mouth like this was already enough to make Ilya want to cum.
He squeezed his hand on Shane’s thigh and subtly shook his head. Shane understood.
He quicked his pace on Shane’s stiff cock when the gasps coming out of Shane became more frequent and he sucked even harder. Ilya pulled his hand back from Shane’s pec and wrapped it around Shane’s other thigh, ready for his impending orgasm.
The way Shane kept lightly lifting his hips off the bed was proof enough that he was almost there. Ilya tried his best to keep from blinking. He needed to see him fall apart and he wanted Shane to watch himself explode inside Ilya’s throat with his cum.
Shane cried out and tried to jerk his hips up, but Ilya held him down in place, his body resorting into one long shudder and Shane urged his body to keep his stare dead set on Ilya. Hot thick cum coated the inside of Ilya’s throat and Ilya flicked the sensitive slit at the tip of Shane’s cock before he released him from his mouth and swallowed.
“I want you to cum on me,” Shane immediately breathed out.
Ilya sat up on his knees and shoved Shane’s clothes high up to his neck. He hovered over Shane’s hips, freed his throbbing cock from his sweats and stroked himself wildly.
“Oh fuck yeah,” Shane muttered and watched his husband pump himself to climax.
Shane was the one to break their gaze, eager to watch Ilya erupt all over him. He quickly glanced back up at Ilya. His mouth was dripping and his face was all hot and heavy from getting so worked up. Shane didn’t do a single thing and this was the reaction he got out of Ilya and it delighted him to no end.
Ilya groaned out and released his cum in spurts all over Shane’s abs and even up to his chest.
Ilya took one more deep breath when his orgasm finally passed and looked down at the artwork that he had just made. Then he looked at Shane, who had soft eyes and a cheeky grin and looked extraordinarily happy.
He chuckled, still in disbelief that he married such an astonishing man, who was his complete and utter undoing.
“So,” Ilya finally spoke. “Where are we going for dinner?”
***
After their two week roadtrip, Shane and Ilya were completely naked in their hot tub with the fireplace lit ten feet from them.
Snow coated the entirety of their backyard, the water in the Ottawa River moving slowly as ever in the early December chill.
Ilya always wanted to go to one of those hot springs in the middle of the snowy mountains where you nearly freeze to death as soon as you come out of the water.
This was as close as he was gonna get to that for now.
Except, when Shane moved in, Ilya got the deck rigged out to be warm over the colder months. He asked Bood about it during one of his midwinter barbecues, and Bood gave him a phone number to this guy, and Ilya called the guy and the guy came to their house and the guy installed the heater things and now he and Shane can enjoy their hot tub on a snowy winter night and not freeze to death when they came out of the water.
Shane sat across from Ilya, his eyes closed, body submerged all the way up to his chest and his neck resting back on a rolled towel.
Ilya was scrolling through his emails, going over his schedule for the holiday season, when his and Shane’s phones buzzed.
Tasia sent them a text and a link.
‘How Well Does Rozanov Know His Teammates video dropping on tiktok and insta tomorrow! Here’s the unedited version. A MUST WATCH! CUTENESS OVERLOAD!’
“Zaichik, Stasya sent our video. Watch it with me,” Ilya said and sat up in the water.
Shane didn’t move. Ilya wasn’t sure if he couldn’t hear him over the sound of the hot tub or if he was asleep.
Ilya stretched his leg forward and poked Shane’s foot with his toe. Shane cracked an eye open.
“Come on,” Ilya begged. “She said it is very cute.”
“I’m in a zen state,” Shane said, closing his eyes again.
Ilya poked him with his toe again.
“Lyubimyy,” Shane groaned.
“You look tense. Why aren’t you relaxed? This is supposed to be relaxing,” Ilya taunted his husband.
“No phones in the hot tub.”
Ilya pushed across the water, his phone held up high, and climbed on Shane’s lap. He gave the tip of his nose a peck and Shane’s eyes fully opened.
“A must watch. Cuteness overload. All caps.” Ilya’s eyes were raised to his hairline. Those words alone should be enough for Shane to want to watch their most recent video together. And if he remembered correctly, they both enjoyed shooting it.
Shane reached around Ilya, his hands gripping Ilya’s sculpted ass and set him into a more comfortable spot on his thighs.
“I just want to enjoy this right now.” Shane stared up at the beautiful man who fell on his lap. “We can watch it later.”
Ilya quickly surrendered. There’s no point in trying to argue when his husband was looking at him like this.
He set his phone on the ledge next to Shane’s.
“I think tomorrow we go out for breakfast,” Ilya declared.
“Okay.” Shane grinned softly and gave Ilya’s ass a small squeeze.
“Stasya recommended a pancake house. She tried it wit-”
“Why don’t we go to the French bistro that we usually go to? The one downtown by the canal,” Shane said indignantly. Shane dropped his tight grasp and looked away. “Or the cafe you like with the good juices.”
Shane tensed beneath him. He certainly wasn’t relaxed anymore.
“What just happened?” Ilya frowned and shook his head, completely dumbstruck, moving his face to find Shane’s eyes again. Shane went from being dreamy and beautiful to becoming dejected. Their luscious moment suddenly flipped upside down.
When Shane kept avoiding him, Ilya gently took his jaw in his hand and lifted his face up. He stared down at him, waiting for Shane's eyes to allow contact.
“Sweetheart?” Ilya asked desperately.
Shane’s eyes still hung low, then closed. Ilya let go of his chin and reached down, both of his hands grazing his fingertips up and down along the side of Shane’s torso. He sensed Shane releasing the slightest bit of tension in his ribs.
Ilya leaned down and pressed his cheek up against Shane’s. “We can go to the bistro.”
Shane still declined to respond. Ilya turned his face and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek.
“Talk to me, moya lyubov.” Ilya tried again.
Ilya's hands floated to Shane’s stomach and soothingly grazed the smooth muscle of his hard abs. He leaned lower and lightly placed a kiss just above the hinge of Shane’s jaw.
He immediately pulled back when he felt Shane’s jaw move under his lips.
“I want to go to the bistro,” Shane mumbled.
Ilya’s face was right above his and Shane’s eyes slowly began inching up. Ilya didn’t move and waited until he saw his big brown eyes meet his. And when he finally saw them in full view, he let out a quiet sigh in relief.
“Why the sudden change?” He asked carefully, praying his question wouldn’t cause Shane to tear away after he finally got hold of his stare.
“I don’t like change,” Shane whispered under his breath.
Ilya felt Shane reach for his thighs. He moved to climb off his lap, thinking Shane was asking him to get off, but Shane’s grip tightened.
“Don’t go,” Shane’s whisper became a touch louder. “I’m sorry.”
Shane took Ilya’s hand and brought it back up to his jaw. Ilya held Shane’s face delicately in his hand, his chin resting in the crook between his thumb and pointer finger. He lowered his mouth to set a tender kiss against Shane’s lips.
“Okay,” Ilya said softly when he pulled back. “We don’t like change.”
Shane moved his hands to Ilya’s back and caressed him up to his shoulder blades, bringing hot water to his exposed skin. Ilya’s shoulders relaxed at the warmth that he didn’t know he needed.
“We don’t like change,” Shane repeated, staring up at Ilya. His hands dipped below the water and held Ilya’s bottom again.
A wicked thought crossed Ilya’s mind.
“Mm, okay.” The corner of Ilya’s mouth raised slightly, his grip on Shane’s jaw tightening just the tiniest bit. “So you’d rather get blowjob in bed than hot tub?”
This brought a small grin out of Shane and the rest of the tension in Ilya’s body fell away. His finger caressed his favorite freckle at the top of Shane’s cheek.
“I thought we were supposed to be relaxing?” Shane asked, his expression softening as intrigue crossed his face.
“Yes. We relax for another thirty minutes,” Ilya said. His free hand moved dangerously low beneath Shane’s stomach in the bubbling water.
“Hot tub.”
They relaxed for another thirty seconds.
***
Ilya followed Shane down the corridor and felt the cold sting of the practice rink on his cheeks. They got up early for morning skate and Ilya was already starting to regret it, his coffee having failed to fully wake him up before this point. Ilya heard the aggressive swish of blades and he looked up. Troy was the first one on the ice today.
“Wait!” Someone shouted from behind them, their voice echoing.
Shane and Ilya both turned, Shane one skate already planted on the ice and ready to go. Tasia was running up to them, the employee badge around her neck, jumping in the air in front of her.
Shane scoffed and skated off, joining Barrett at center ice to say good morning.
Tasia stopped in front of Ilya, chest heaving and leaned forward to set her hands on her knees.
“You are here early too today,” he remarked, waiting for Tasia to catch her breath.
“Yeah, I uh-” She took one deep breath and forced herself to stand up straight, embarrassed that she got winded from sprinting down a corridor in front of a professional athlete. “I wanted to catch you and Hollander before you guys got busy.”
“Too late for Shane,” Ilya said as he looked back at his husband. He and Troy were taking laps around the rink together.
Tasia blew out another breath.
“I wanted to ask you guys something.”
“What is it?” Ilya asked easily.
“I was wondering if you guys needed someone to run social media for the Irina Foundation.”
Ilya was taken aback and pleasantly surprised by her inquiry. They’d only spoken about the charity very briefly in the past. She had mentioned wanting to visit the hockey camps over the summer when they were in Ottawa, but never mentioned wanting to work for his and Shane’s foundation.
Tasia took Ilya’s silence as a sign to anxiously keep talking.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I have been studying the foundation’s social media accounts. I understand how important the charity and hockey camps are for you and Shane and I want to help.”
Tasia took both of Ilya’s hands in hers, held them out between them and continued to desperately ramble.
“And truthfully, I’ve been in a huge major crisis over what I’ll be doing over the summer when the season’s over. And it's only December! Oh my god, what a nightmare. I don’t wanna go back to waiting tables!” Tasia confessed.
Ilya opened his mouth to finally speak, but Tasia kept going.
“You and Hollander are like my idols now. I’ve never seen anyone as compassionate and tenacious about their careers as you both are. And all the while, you guys have fun. Your guys’ work ethic is unwavering and I would love to work directly under you guys for something as important as the Irina Foundation.”
“Rozanov.” Ilya flipped around and saw Shane standing ten feet from the boards, his hands raised impatiently.
Ilya turned back to Tasia.
“I will have to ask Shane. Yuna handles all the business stuff and contracts.” He started stepping back, Tasia’s grasp loosening. “And I do not even know who runs the social media.”
He gave her an encouraging smile and took a step onto the ice.
“Okay, thank you!” Tasia shouted.
Ilya skated up to his waiting husband.
“What was that all about?” Shane asked with a displeased tone.
Ilya set forward, starting his first lap with Shane trailing beside him.
“Stasya wants to be social media manager for the foundation.”
“Why?” Shane asked almost immediately.
“I think it is a good idea.” Ilya shrugged. “She works hard.”
Shane stayed silent next to him and they rounded behind the goalie net.
“She already knows half the coaches. She will fit in,” Ilya added. “But I told her I will talk to you. Will you ask Yuna?”
Shane didn’t ask his mom.
***
Shane and Ilya’s phones vibrated at the same time on the bathroom counter. Shane’s fingers were covered in pomade and were carefully running through his hair. He looked at Ilya’s shirtless reflection in the mirror.
“Can you check who texted, please?” Shane asked politely. “I don’t wanna get my phone all messy.”
Ilya dried his hands with a towel, unlocked his phone and held it up for Shane to read.
Bood texted the group chat saying, ‘Cassie says to look good boys. No sweats allowed at dinner’.
Cassie graciously started the tradition of arranging a yearly dinner night for the Centaurs and their partners in the middle of December before the chaos of the holidays. Tonight they were having dinner at a nice steakhouse.
“Moy solnyshko, can you wear that sweater I like?” Ilya asked before he darted to their walk-in closet.
“The one that I got in Montreal or the one you bought me online?” Shane shouted after him. He messed with his hair until he was satisfied with how his hair fell perfectly over his forehead, then rinsed the remaining pomade off his fingers.
Ilya returned wearing a pair of baggy black pants and a fitted black t-shirt tucked into his waistband, his gold cross sitting on his chest. He held up two hangers holding a large black knit sweater and loose brown trousers.
“Oh, so you’re dressing me,” Shane said mockingly.
“The one I bought you,” Ilya said delightedly. “With the boots.”
Shane didn’t argue. He took the hangers from Ilya and laid the clothing down on their bed.
Ilya threw a suede blue blouson jacket over his shirt and put on a pair of black boots that matched Shane’s. He watched closely as Shane slipped into the clothes he picked out for him, the outfit looking exactly how he had envisioned it. Before Shane buttoned his pants, Ilya rushed out of the room, mumbling something about warming up the car.
Fully dressed, Shane went down to the kitchen to top up Anya’s water bowl before they left. He grabbed his and Ilya’s wool trench coat from their coat closet and stepped into the garage, finding Ilya staring at his cars. Shane threw their jackets on the work table next to the door and crept up behind him, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s waist, bathing in the strong scent of his cologne.
“What are you thinking about?” Shane asked, pressing a light kiss on the back of Ilya’s neck just below his slicked back curls.
“The roads are not good enough to take the Porsche, I think.” Ilya sighed and turned to wrap his arms around Shane’s shoulders.
“That’s okay. We could still take your Mercedes,” Shane said earnestly.
They held each other’s gaze for a moment and Shane began to feel flustered, his freckles turning pink now having been able to fully get a good look at Ilya. And he looked fucking delicious.
Ilya’s eyes smoldered, noticing the change in Shane’s expression. He took a step, then another, backing Shane into the table that had their coats thrown across it.
“What are you thinking about?” Ilya’s turn to ask.
“I’m thinking,” Shane sighed contentedly. “That my husband is the sexiest man alive.”
The corner of Ilya’s mouth raised and he tilted Shane’s chin up, giving himself full access to his throat. Shane felt his warm lips trail across his jawline until they reached his ear, Ilya’s teeth nibbling at his earlobe.
“We’re gonna be late, Ilya,” Shane whimpered after Ilya easily found the spot behind his ear that made his knees feel nonexistent.
Ilya hummed and continued on the light sucking of his skin. Shane felt Ilya move his hips closer, their growing erections rubbing up against each other and Shane let out a soft moan.
It took everything in Shane’s will power to pull away and step out from between Ilya and the table.
“I’ll drive. We’ll take the Land Rover,” Shane offered, trying to collect himself after nearly wanting to tear Ilya’s pants off and take him in his mouth in the cold garage.
“I am captain. They will not care if we are late.” Ilya reached out for Shane’s arm to try to bring him back to where he had stood before.
“We were late last year.”
“Yes.” Ilya fully turned to face Shane, smug and half lidded. “And they did not care.”
-
Shane stood bent over the back of the living room couch, loose and eager after Ilya fingered him close to climax on the work table in their garage. Ilya had carried Shane into the living room and thrown him over the leather after he’d decided that the hard wood of the table was too cold for his husband.
“Hurry,” Shane urged. He didn’t care for how much time they were taking. He didn’t care to make it to dinner remotely on time at this point. He just needed Ilya inside him immediately.
Ilya chuckled and pushed the bottom of Shane’s sweater higher up his back so as not to ruin the soft, expensive wool.
“Greedy and impatient.”
Ilya threw the empty packet of lube and the condom wrapper off to the side and rubbed Shane’s hole with the slick head of his firm cock.
“You were the one who wanted this,” Shane gritted through his teeth and tried to push his ass back onto Ilya’s thickness.
The throbbing pink head easily slipped in, but then Ilya stopped Shane from taking in even more.
“I’m the one who wanted this? Only me?” Ilya teased, not moving the slightest bit, much to Shane’s frustration.
“I was ready to leave until you got all horny.”
Shane fought against Ilya’s hold and successfully gained another inch. There was still so much more to go and it was imperative that Shane got all of it.
“Am I not allowed to get horny for my husband?” Ilya teased once more.
Ilya enjoyed seeing Shane act like this. Like there was a nuclear bomb about to go off and the only way to save the world was if Ilya fucked him right at that instant.
“I’m ten seconds away from putting my pants back on,” Shane threatened. It didn’t work.
“Okay, I guess I am the only one who wants a good quickie and is the only super horny one.” Ilya blew out an exaggerated sigh and started to pull out.
Shane quickly reached back and tightly grabbed Ilya’s arm over the sleeve of his jacket.
“Rozanov, I swear to fucking god, if we leave here with my asshole still intact, I’m setting your Porsche on fire.” Shane snarled over his shoulder, his cheeks reddening all the way to his ears. “Just fucking give it to me.”
Ilya smirked menacingly. And then pulled his tip out.
Shane scoffed angrily and leaned up off the couch and started to turn until Ilya spread his ass cheeks open and shoved two fingers into him. Shane crashed back over the couch cushions with a loud groan, finally feeling some relief after Ilya’s antagonizing.
“How can I not get horny when I know this is how you look when you want my cock?”
Ilya began to finger fuck him just as he did when they were in the garage, fast and rough. Shane dug his palms into the couch cushions, his wool sweater bunching up to his shoulders, giving Ilya full view of his back muscles quivering.
“That is what you want right?”
Ilya heard a long groan in response. He pushed his slick fingers all the way to the knuckle, twisted and twisted and kept twisting as he watched Shane writhe all over the back of the sofa.
“You want your husband's big hard cock deep inside you?”
Ilya stopped his wrist and stroked his two fingers over Shane’s prostate vigorously until Shane tilted his head back and cried out into the air.
“Ilya,” Shane shouted with his eyes clenched shut. “Please. I need you in me. I feel like I’m gonna die.”
Ilya’s fingers were quickly replaced by his rigid cock and Shane felt like he was just shot up into the clouds. Ilya’s thickness had stretched him so far apart and was shoved so far into him that Shane could feel him up to his throat.
Ilya peeled his suede jacket off, leaned over him and growled in his ear. “You have it. Now you’re going to take it.”
That sent something fierce into Shane and he felt the heat of it low in his stomach.
“Oh fuck, yes. Fucking ruin me.”
The pace at which Ilya was going was mind blowing.
The large couch continued to inch forward with every thrust and they moved with it, both refusing to adjust positions now that they’ve already started.
Unable to hold himself up any longer, Shane fully relaxed and went limp over the cushions, giving up on clenching all of the wonderful tension that Ilya was driving into him with his cock.
Shane laid his cheek against the cold leather, his mouth gaping open and stared into nothing. He let himself revel in the glory of having a husband with such an enormous size, of having a husband with such endurance and stamina, of having a husband with such devotion in making him feel like his body was going to be torn apart.
And Shane was riding the high of pure fucking ecstasy.
His loud moans were constant and neverending and made him incapable of speaking. His mind was so muddled that he couldn’t even think of what to say, even if he tried. Ilya’s cock consumed him in every aspect and Shane loved when Ilya fucked him like this. His husband was using his asshole with reckless abandon, fucking him so rough that Shane could pass out from his orgasm.
“Such a good boy, so beautiful. Letting me break you.” Ilya groaned over the thundering sound of their bodies smacking together.
And Ilya never stopped moving, his hips ruthlessly wanting to keep Shane in that dazed state and wanting to leave his ass cheeks red and sore.
“Your asshole loves my cock. Swallowing me whole. Always so hungry.”
Ilya was pounding into him so excruciatingly fast that he was worried about how Shane was going to be able to sit through dinner. Then he wished Shane hadn’t made him wear a condom so that he could think about how he drained himself inside him just before spending an evening with their friends.
Ilya grazed his short nails down Shane’s back, leaving a faint trail of red. If Shane won’t go to dinner with this memory of him dripping from his ass, then he’ll have this.
“Going to think about this all night, my husband so desperate for me.”
He heard Shane curse and his body started convulsing in front of him. Thick, creamy cum trickled down the back of the leather sofa. Ilya laid his eyes on Shane’s hands, both trying to grip the cushions next to his head. Shane didn’t touch himself.
Ilya’s control crumbled apart instantly at Shane’s effortless orgasm, at the simple fact that he brought Shane to climax all from his cock. The thought dug its claws into Ilya's mind and triggered his own orgasm. The intense buzz raged throughout his body until every drop of cum emptied out of him.
“I love you. So much.” Shane panted in between breaths, his legs visibly shaking. “Holy shit.”
Ilya grinned and rubbed his palm up and down Shane’s back.
“I love you,” Ilya replied before leaning down and gently kissing his skin. “We forgot to warm up the car.”
-
Shane and Ilya were late to dinner.
They found everyone at the long table in the back of the restaurant, Ilya holding a confident smile as they said hello to the large group and mumbling about how Anya supposedly took forever to go potty. Shane and Ilya threw their coats on the open seats at the end of the table and sat, Shane to the left of Wyatt and on the opposite side of Ilya was Chouinard.
“Your partners do not want to sit next to you guys?” Ilya teased after seeing all the women sitting beside each other on one end of the table.
“Only some of us don’t have that problem.” Barrett raised his glass of wine in Ilya’s direction. Harris was grinning widely beside him while also sitting next to the women. Ilya snickered.
“Have you guys ordered yet?” Shane asked.
“No, we decided to wait after you texted,” Chouinard responded casually. “Plus, Hazy and Lisa just got here like ten minutes before you guys did and Hazy didn’t text.”
Wyatt shrugged next to Shane. “Wife’s a doctor.” And that was all the explanation he needed.
Shane’s eyes swept across the long table to see who was all here, when he saw her.
Tasia sat two seats away from Harris, her random blonde friend between them. She looked in their direction and waved, a bright smile lighting her face.
Shane was blissfully happy up until now. He couldn’t have one simple dinner with his friends without Tasia there to ruin his mood. Shane glared at her from across the table after she looked away, silently thanking the other WAGs for decidedly separating themselves.
His knee was unknowingly shaking from the frustration until Ilya lightly set his hand on Shane’s thigh underneath the table.
“Shane?” Ilya whispered, his eyebrows furrowed.
Shane immediately shook his head to wave off the concern he knew Ilya was having. “Just a little cold, I guess,” Shane said discreetly.
It wasn't fully a lie. Shane was freezing. He set his ice cold hand on top of Ilya’s as proof.
“I can ask if they have tea?” Ilya reached for the drink menu.
He watched Ilya adoringly, his eyes skimming the drink menu to check if they had hot drinks to warm up Shane.
The waiter approached behind them.
“I’ll have water with a lemon wedge, please,” Shane said before Ilya could order him a cup of tea that he didn’t want.
Ilya sighed and ordered himself a glass of pinot noir.
Once they all ordered and received their food, Shane thought to himself.
Do the WAGs know how Tasia behaves with my husband?
No, they definitely don’t. They sure as hell wouldn't tolerate it. They wouldn’t have included her in so many things if they knew. And they aren’t around enough to see the issue.
Shane almost felt that he couldn't confront Tasia. As much as he hated her, she had done immense work for the Centaurs’ social media accounts. Even helped the media and the advertising team. And it definitely doesn’t help that everyone seems to love her. It would blow into a huge ordeal.
And Shane fully believes Ilya is blind to her efforts. Ilya could tell if a man was attracted to him from a mile away. So if Ilya doesn't see anything bad in her behavior, then maybe there's no need to confront the girl. But then again, they've never been in a situation where someone tried to get between them.
Some sort of action had to be done, or else Shane would feel uncomfortable every time he saw Tasia.
Maybe he could just be fully honest with Ilya. Maybe he could talk to Harris about his concerns.
Does Tasia touch the other players like she does Ilya?
He glanced at every one of his teammates at the table, trying to recount at least one time that Tasia had grabbed their arm while she laughed or reached for a hug, but came up short. She seemed to keep her hands behind her back with basically everyone.
His stare stopped at Barrett, feeling horrified for Harris as the images of Tasia’s touchiness played through his mind. It’s almost as bad with Barrett as it is with Ilya. Even worse, Tasia probably spends more time with Barrett, considering that Harris is her boss.
Shane glanced between Troy and Ilya. They were certainly the best looking players on the team, but both of their partners were men. There were half a dozen single guys on the Centaurs and she’s got the hots for the wrong guys, in more ways than one.
Maybe she likes a challenge. What a dummy.
Ilya broke through his thoughts when he picked up Shane’s empty water glass as the waiter approached the table with a pitcher. He held the glass up over his shoulder, the squeezed lemon wedge bobbing up against the glass as fresh cold water was poured in.
“Can we please have a new lemon wedge?” Ilya requested, then placed the cup back in its spot in front of Shane.
Shane watched him and felt enamored. There's no way Tasia thinks she could have Ilya. Not when he doted on Shane like this. In ways where Shane doesn’t have to think for himself sometimes.
He shifted back in his seat, reminding himself of the performance Ilya did for him just hours before and became selfishly riddled with happiness over the fact that he had seduced Ilya so intensely with just a look.
Shane wanted to return some kindness. He gathered a bite of his sea bass and roasted vegetables on his fork and adorably lifted it in front of Ilya’s mouth. Ilya gave him an endearing smile before he closed his lips over Shane's offering.
“Mmm,” Ilya hummed as he chewed, reaching up to lightly pinch Shane's freckles as a thank you.
Wyatt dropped his steak knife on his plate. “Lisa, I want a bite of your food!” he shouted across the table to his wife.
Shane and Ilya laughed. Ilya took Shane's warm hand and pressed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, over his wedding band.
***
It’s New Year's Eve.
Harris and Tasia rented out a nice restaurant bar in downtown Ottawa with a rooftop. Completely private. Open bar.
And Shane didn’t want to go.
Shane was sitting shirtless on the leather ottoman at the foot of their bed, shuffling his fingers together.
Tonight, he had to be truthful with Ilya.
Ilya came out of their bathroom hair slicked back and fully dressed, the top three buttons of his shirt purposely left undone.
“Why aren’t you dressed?” Ilya asked, startled to see Shane only in his underwear.
Shane looked up at his husband and took a deep breath. If he didn’t say it now, then he’s going to be miserable all night.
“What’s wrong?” Ilya rushed across the room and crouched in front of him. “You don’t feel well?”
Shane shook his head and rose up from the seat. Ilya followed suit. He stared right up into his bright blue eyes.
“I don’t like Tasia,” Shane blurted out.
Saying the words out loud lifted a metric ton of weight off his shoulders, and Shane felt like he could fully breathe at ease again. And it felt so fucking good.
Shane steeled himself for Ilya’s reaction. More words bubbled up his chest, ready to blow out of him.
“You don't like Tasia,” Ilya repeated slowly, confusion slathered across his face.
The words erupted.
“I'm not celebrating the New Year with her. Every time she’s in the vicinity, I get so fucking irritated and it drives me so fucking crazy. I can’t do it for this. Absolutely fucking not.”
“Shane,” Ilya said, taken aback and stepped closer to him.
“She’s always fucking touching you and she doesn’t give a shit if I’m in the same room or if I could see. She’s always finding any reason to talk to you, like sharing stupid songs that don’t even sound good. She laughs at everything you say, even when your shit jokes aren’t even fucking funny and she just swoons over you. I know you don’t see it, but I do,” Shane shouted. His hands were fully clenched at his sides. “That girl wants my fucking husband.”
Ilya laughed and held Shane's bare waist.
“Now why the hell are you laughing?” Shane glared at him.
“Because sweetheart,” Ilya brought his hand up and lightly pinched Shane’s blooming cheek. “Stasya is like little sister.”
“Okay?” Shane was seething. “How the fuck does tha-”
“And Stasya is gay.”
Silence.
“She is super gay.”
Shane plopped back down on the ottoman and held his head between his knees. Pure utter embarrassment flooded his veins. He just exploded all of his built up agitation from the past four months at his husband over a girl that couldn’t have even been remotely attracted to Ilya.
“How did I not know this?” Shane groaned.
“You are just not very perceptive. You have seen her girlfriend. Twice,” Ilya replied gently.
“And you think your husband is pathetic,” Shane grumbled at his legs.
Ilya grabbed Shane’s wrist and tugged, forcing him to stand up. Once Shane was back on his feet, Ilya held his face up with both hands and kissed Shane indulgently.
“No,” Ilya said against Shane’s lips and simply shook his head. “I think my husband is perfect.”
Shane scoffed. “You don’t think your husband is a jealous idiot?” he asked, his red eyes starting to glisten.
Ilya shook his head once more and lightly furrowed his brow. “No. Why were you keeping this secret?”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“Shane, if it makes you upset, then it is not stupid,” Ilya emphasized.
Shane blinked up at him, not knowing what to say. If he’d known about Tasia, then he wouldn’t have spent months resenting her very existence. Or if he’d been honest with Ilya earlier, then he wouldn’t be standing in the middle of their bedroom on New Year’s Eve on the verge of crumbling to dust from humiliation.
Ilya preemptively nuzzled his forehead against Shane’s. “If you still do not like her, then I can fix it.”
“No, no. It’s-That’s not necessary. I don’t think.” Shane started, his thoughts rapidly running through his head. He tightly closed his eyes and groaned. “I’m just an insecure wussy.”
Ilya nudged Shane’s arms up and he wrapped his arms around Ilya’s neck.
“I think my very loving and beautiful husband is more than perfect.” The corners of Ilya’s lips perked up as he rubbed his hands over Shane’s bare back. “And I know I will never want anyone more than the man that charmed me when I was little seventeen year old boy.”
Shane pressed his forehead deeper against Ilya’s and took a deep shaky breath. “I never want to speak of this ever again.”
“Did you think Harris would hire someone not gay to be his assistant? For a very gay hockey team?” Ilya asked carefully, rubbing the tips of their noses together.
“I guess I didn’t think that part through.”
-
“Captain’s here!” Bood hollered in his hands over the railing of the second floor balcony when Shane and Ilya walked into the bar.
Their teammates roared into the air over the loud music.
Shane hugged Ilya’s arm close to his chest, touched with the love the guys displayed so openly for his husband.
They both greeted everyone they passed as Ilya led them straight towards the bar. Shane carefully watched his steps in the dimly lit room, just orbs of light that hung low over the crowded bar and the bottles on the wall backlit in red.
“You are drinking tonight?” Ilya asked with a crooked smirk as they patiently waited for the bartender.
Shane nodded with a cheeky grin. “The usual, please.”
The bartender approached them and leaned forward to hear Ilya’s request.
“Whiskey on the rocks and a Moscow mule.”
“Roz! Hollander! Hey!” Tasia shouted excitedly.
They twisted around and saw Tasia pushing through half a dozen hockey players and pulling a tall blonde woman behind her.
“Shane, this is Leona. I don’t think you guys have formally met.” Tasia gestured to the pretty woman beside her.
Shane shot draggers into Ilya. He shrugged and gave him a look that said, ‘I didn't say anything’.
“Leona is my girlfriend,” Tasia said as she looked dazzlingly up at her.
So Tasia is most certainly a lesbian.
Shane turned to face Leona and held out his hand. She had a glowing white smile and she shook his outstretched hand.
“Great to meet you, Leona,” Shane said politely, still feeling the embarrassment of his outburst from an hour before.
“I’ve seen you play in New York. You’re incredible,” Leona exclaimed.
Ilya turned to the bar and picked up their ready drinks, handing Shane his copper mug. Shane took a heavy sip of his Moscow mule, hoping it would help ease the awkwardness of the situation that was only awkward to him.
“Leona is a fan of Scott Hunter," Ilya muttered under his breath, just low enough for only Shane to hear and Shane spat out his drink in laughter.
Tasia and Leona looked at Shane, puzzled as he gave out a few fake coughs.
“My Shane has not drunk for a long time. Special night,” Ilya said smoothly, rubbing his back.
Tasia was wearing a black sparkly sleeveless dress and Shane caught the tattoo on her arm. It made sense that he had never seen it. He’s only ever seen her with long sleeves on.
“Nice tattoo,” Shane pointed out.
She twirled to give Shane a better view. It was a small fine line tattoo of a moving wolf coming down the side of her arm.
“Thanks! My last name means wolf,” Tasia said proudly.
Shane took another big sip of his cocktail and nodded faintly. He definitely didn’t forget that small detail Ilya told him after his first interview with Tasia, and he certainly didn’t call her a stupid Canadian wolf girl in his head.
“Oh yeah, I think I knew that. Ilya’s been pretty good about helping me learn Russian,” he mentioned casually.
Shane took a quick glance at Ilya, who took a small sip of his whiskey and was watching him lovingly.
-
Many drinks later and ten minutes left before midnight, Ilya stood on the bar with Shane close by, right below him.
Shots of top shelf vodka were passed out to every single person in the room, the music was lowered and all eyes were on him.
Harris began tapping his fingernail on the side of his shot glass and others followed in his example until the voices fell completely silent.
Ilya cleared his throat.
“We had a great year. Made it to the playoffs last spring. Managed to all get here with no major injuries. Didn’t make Wiebe want to quit his job.”
Laughter sprinkled in the crowd in front of him. Ilya cleared his throat once more, unexpectedly becoming emotional.
“Thank you for allowing me to be your captain. To be your friend. And thank you for becoming my family. I have everything I could ever want in this room. The gayest team in the league and a rich sexy talented strong husband.”
The guys loudly whistled and Shane’s already rosy cheeks turned crimson. Ilya's smile glowed at his smitten reaction and continued.
“My heart is too full, but I still have so much more room for memories with you all. I love you. Happy New Year. Cheers.”
“Cheers,” everyone said in unison and they all threw back their shot of vodka.
“I love you!” Bood shouted, causing a wave of I love yous from the teammates scattered across the large space.
“I want you all wishing for a Stanley Cup while you kiss your wives and partners. I will know if you don't,” Ilya threatened and swept a finger over the gathering heckling back at him before he climbed off the bar.
Everyone went out on the rooftop for the countdown.
Shane leaned on the railing facing the Ottawa river and Ilya stood behind with his arms enveloped tightly around Shane to keep him warm.
“Do you think the fireworks would go off on time?” Shane asked.
Ilya dug his face into Shane’s neck and chuckled at the adorable man in his arms.
“Maybe we should just start kissing now in case we miss it,” Shane suggested.
Ilya lifted his face, loosened his tight hold and Shane turned to face him.
“My smart husband. So full of good ideas,” Ilya said tenderheartedly as they both shifted, the view of the river now at their sides.
Ilya snaked his hands beneath Shane’s jacket and pulled him close to his body. A hand rose up to cradle Shane’s cheek, his wedding band cold on Shane’s skin.
“Are you having a good time tonight?” Ilya asked endearingly.
Shane’s own hand rose up to clasp the back of Ilya’s neck, his other hand resting over his heart. He licked his cold lips and looked down at Ilya’s mouth with longing.
“Yes,” Shane whispered soothingly and leaned into Ilya’s warm fingers. He gently tugged Ilya closer until they felt each other's breath across their lips. “Are you having a good time tonight?”
Ilya closed the distance between them, the heat of each other’s mouths engulfing their bodies in warmth in the icy December air. He poked his tongue into Shane’s and was greeted with his patiently waiting for Ilya’s first stroke of his soft tongue.
Ilya moaned quietly in Shane’s mouth at his eagerness.
Their friends started shouting all over the rooftop, counting down from ten, but their minds were drowned out, their entire being absorbed in each other's taste.
The first of the fireworks released a thunderous boom across the river and it rocketed up into the sky and shattered in glimmering gold.
The shouting and crackling of fireworks continued around them and Ilya only pulled Shane closer.
All Ilya cared about was the feeling of Shane’s lips pressed against his, the sounds of his quiet sighs and the frantic way Shane kept trying to climb up Ilya’s body.
The spray of champagne was ultimately what finally pulled them apart. Shane was startled by the cold fizzy liquid dripping down beneath his shirt and down his back.
Ilya laughed and wiped the champagne off their faces with the sleeve of his jacket. Shane ran a hand through his now messy hair with a wide grin.
“Happy New Year, moya lyubov,” Ilya said, smiling fondly at his husband.
“Happy New Year,” Shane whispered and grazed one more kiss on Ilya’s lips. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
They embraced each other tightly, their eyes closed, completely surrounded by the people they loved who loved them back just as equally. The chosen family that allowed them to openly hold each other like this without a second thought crossing their minds.
And they were excited. For a new year of more hockey, a very possible Stanley Cup Win, another peaceful summer at the cottage, hockey camps and even more hockey.
All of it spent together.
And they couldn’t wait to go home.