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Thin Ice
(circa 2017)
Shane knew when he woke up later than he typically did, his day was not going to go well. From the moment his eyes opened, he realized that he felt hot and that his body felt stuffy and sluggish. With a scowl, he levered himself out of bed, not even needing to check that he had a bit of a fever. He has had a cold almost every February since he was a kid. Luckily, he was an old hand at ignoring distractions while getting into the right mindset for gameday.
Morning skate was optional, and for once, Shane stayed at home. It never took him long to get ready to go, and he lived close enough to the arena. He took some medication and got his duffel bag ready. He drove over, waving at the security officer by the gate as he steered into the underground structure.
Walking into the locker room, a few offered their greetings. Others had yet to arrive. Hayden took one look at him, nodded in greeting, and stayed by his cubby. Shane let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, feeling a swell of affection for his best friend, who had immediately clocked that he wasn't in a sociable mood. Still, he had a job to do, and he felt the familiar excitement building. He quickly changed into his base layer before putting on the rest he needed to be ready for the ice. After he was ready to go, he began his warm-up stretches.
The game passed in a blur; they were playing the Toronto Guardians. Even feeling under the weather, Shane guided the Voyageurs to an easy win. They had helped the lead without allowing the Guardians to score, and then Shane managed a second goal, sealing the victory with a last-second goal. The roar of the fans could've shaken the stadium with how excited they were, and Shane was quickly caught up amongst his teammates as they bumped his helmet and cheered. Shane didn't think he would ever get used to hearing his team's fans cheering and chanting his name.
For a moment, Shane almost forgot he wasn't feeling great, caught up in the excitement of another win. After shaking hands with the Guardians, he led his team back to the locker room, where the energy continued.
"Great job, Cap!" Gagnon said, a statement quickly echoed by several people.
"We should celebrate!" Hayden suggested. "We only have practice tomorrow afternoon."
The team clearly liked Pike's suggestion if the answering whoops were anything to go by. People were throwing around suggestions as they stripped off to shower and then change. Shane had stripped down to his base layer when he grabbed his phone and immediately noticed that Ilya had texted.
Shane scowled. Of course, his boyfriend knew he was sick. Hayden and the rest of the team had no idea, or at least hadn't said anything. But his boyfriend, all the way in Boston, had clocked it. Shane knew he should go home and try to sleep off the cold before it worsened. It grated on him, though, that Ilya had ordered him to. He was twenty-six years old, for fucks sake, he was perfectly capable of handling himself. If he wanted to go out or go home, what did it matter?
It mattered because Ilya had realized how quickly Shane disregarded his own health, how overly critical he was of his performance, and any perceived mistakes. His boyfriend knew that when he spiraled, he did things he could control, like exercise and eating. Fuck, he had even clocked that Shane sometimes picked at his skin or grabbed at his hair, needing something to ground him in the moment when he felt untethered.
When Ilya first demonstrated he saw these behaviors, he was immediately defensive.
But Ilya loved him.
Ilya cared about him.
Ilya saw all of Shane, even the parts others didn't or elected to ignore.
Shane knew he had seen all of Ilya as well. That his boyfriend needed him as much as he needed Ilya, that was why he let Ilya explain Domestic Discipline; he knew that Shane enjoyed giving control to Ilya, and Ilya enjoyed having that power. Ilya explained that with spanking, it would erase the guilt, make him feel like he had made his penance. Give him a way to close the spiral and move along. They had just discussed it, but Ilya hadn't spanked him yet. Shane may not have the experience of his boyfriend, but he knew the few smacks Ilya had landed over the years when they were having sex weren't spanking. Those wouldn't clear his conscience; they were hot, though.
He knew that even if he was yielding his control to Ilya, they were still equal. It didn't make him less in any way. They had drafted a few rules together. The most important rule was that Shane, the person, came first. His health came first. Shane knew that would be one he'd struggle with; he'd be in motion until his body made him stop. He knew Ilya was probably already annoyed that Shane was playing with a cold. Shane actually intended to go home after the game until his boyfriend told him otherwise. After reading Ilya's last text, the last thing he wanted to do was go home. Besides, he was in Boston; how would he ever know if Shane went right home or had a detour?
He was twenty-six. He helped his team win with a hat trick. He deserved to celebrate if he wanted. He didn't have a curfew, and he didn't have to go home unless he wanted to, which is how he found himself in Le Ciel surrounded by his team, celebrating their win. He even had a beer or two… At least, Shane was pretty sure it was two? Things got hazy after that. The last thing he remembered was taking a picture with his team and a bunch of fans, thinking nothing of it.
The next morning, Shane was hungover more than sick. Thanking the universe for small favors, he reached over to check his phone and saw a text he had missed from Ilya. Oh, fuck.
Fuck! Holy shit. This wasn't real life. His luck didn't suck that much. His stomach swooped, and he had to jump out of bed to race into the bathroom. He reached the toilet just in time to throw up whatever he had left in his stomach.
He remembered taking pictures with fans, but the photo Ilya sent someone clearly had been taken when the bartender flustered him. He was blatant enough with his flirting that Shane had picked up on it. Now, Ilya knew he not only had not gone home to take care of himself when he had a cold, but had lied on top of it.
Ilya would definitely spank him. Shane blew out a frustrated sigh. Why did he have to be contrary just because his boyfriend echoed what he had already been thinking? He didn't even know where to begin in responding to those texts. Getting up from the ground, he stripped off his clothes, pausing to brush his teeth before taking a quick shower. His mind was racing. What was he going to say?
Whoops?
Maybe he could have a do-over.
Immediately, he grumbled, rolling his eyes. If there was one thing Shane knew about Ilya Rozanov, it was that he did not change his mind once something was agreed to. They had laid out rules, and Shane had gone tap-dancing right over them. Maybe if he groveled enough on the phone, or if he admitted Ilya was right, he loved being right. Surely either would get him out of being spanked the next time they managed to see one another in person.
The damage was already done at this point. Ilya knew. At least he couldn't get spanked from Boston. This would be a problem for future Shane…and his ass. Shane got dressed and was walking down the steps when he saw a familiar figure in his kitchen.
Ilya turned from where he was making an omelet. The grin he shot Shane made his stomach jump into his throat. He felt his eyes widen, and his boyfriend's gaze noted his every movement, including the fact that he was frozen on the steps, like a deer in the headlights.
"Uh, um, what are you doing here?"
"It is clear you do not want to take care of my Shane, so I will."
"You came all the way to Montreal to make me breakfast?"
Ilya turned to shoot him an unimpressed look. Shane resisted his every urge to fidget at the intensity and promise in the other man's gaze. Shane was so flustered that he didn't even realize his TV was on. It looked like it was on the local news, showing the Voyageurs win with the team and fans celebrating later. Shane watched as the newscasters showed multiple pictures of Shane and his teammates drinking, celebrating, and taking pictures with fans. Holy shit.
It wasn’t that Shane didn’t want to take this new level of giving Ilya control. His boyfriend would never really hurt him. He wasn’t expecting to find out what this was all about so soon. It hadn’t even been a month, and he broke their rules.
"Is problem of being famous."
"Er, what?" Shane's attention returned to his boyfriend.
"When famous hockey player lie to boyfriend and goes out, people may take pictures," Ilya spoke as if he were offering Shane a helpful suggestion. “Not very sneaky.”
Shane’s mouth opened and shut a few times because Ilya did have a point. He sometimes forgot that people would want to take pictures without his knowledge. But, he was not about to flee back up to his bedroom, so he finished walking down the rest of his stairs. Damn it, this was his house. He had no reason to be fearful. Despite every instinct telling him to flee, he walked over to the kitchen and stood a few arm’s length away. He was starting to feel bad. Ilya was only trying to watch out for Shane, just like he said he was going to. And what did Shane do? He lied to his boyfriend’s face, convinced himself that because Ilya was in Boston, it wouldn’t be bad.
“Seriously, though, how are you here?”
Ilya glanced at Shane, and his brow furrowed. Whatever he spotted on Shane’s face clearly troubled him as he switched off the burner, moving the pan to one of the cooler parts of the cooktop before coming over and grabbing Shane’s fingers. Shane startled, but Ilya hushed him.
“You were hurting yourself.”
True to his word, Shane glanced down and saw the crescent moon imprints of his nails on his arm where his hand had been clinging on for dear life. He hadn’t even felt it.
“Is Boston bye week.”
Shane’s eyes slammed shut. He was a fucking moron. He completely forgot and decided to test the potential boundary just before Ilya came to Montreal.
Ilya saw the hatred flashing in Shane's eyes before he shut them. He immediately started shushing his boyfriend, pulling him into his arms, one wrapping around his waist and the other cradling his head.
“Enough, Kotik. It will be okay.”
“How can you even say that?” Shane’s voice was cracking. “I agreed to try this and immediately broke our rules.”
“Is natural,” Ilya replied, rocking them back and forth. “People test boundaries. Is okay.”
“I lied.”
“Yes, very naughty.”
“Ilya.”
Shane hated how upset he was getting. It felt like he was being teased. Ilya felt Shane stiffen in his arms. He immediately pulled him back so he could attempt to make eye contact. Shane, for his part, glanced up, and his eyes lowered moments later.
“I’m not teasing,” Ilya said, knowing that Shane was already on edge and that his guilt was rising.
Shane, for his part, sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. Ilya took a deep breath. This had to be settled first. With a startled yelp, Ilya picked his kotik up into his arms, walking them toward Shane’s comfy couch. He let himself drop into a sprawl, grinning when Shane laughed as he bounced in Ilya’s arms.
“Lying did upset me,” Ilya confessed.
Shane stiffened up almost instantly. The guilt felt like a physical weight, holding his gorgeous boy down. Ilya wasn’t going to let Shane hide in his head; he gently grasped Shane’s chin, bringing their eyes together.
“Honesty is important. Especially when we are physically apart. I know you feel guilty. We will handle it together.”
“Why are you being so calm?” Shane demanded, trying to wrench his chin out of Ilya’s hold. It didn’t work. In the back of his mind, he wasn’t surprised it did annoy him.
“You made a mistake. Even the great Shane Hollander is human.”
“Ilya.”
Ilya leaned forward, kissing Shane’s forehead and then his lips. He grinned internally when the tension again began to leech away.
“I want you to listen, solnyshko. When I proposed adding this to our relationship, I knew there would be bumps, not that I was setting you up for failure. It is human nature to press against a boundary, especially when it’s new. You want to see if it will hold.”
When Shane opened his mouth to interject, as Ilya expected, he tapped Shane’s lips to remind him that listening meant it wasn’t his turn to talk.
“I know you’ve never done anything like this before. I did a lot of research before I made my suggestion. I wanted to be prepared. I don’t expect us to go through this without bumps. Bumps are okay. You understand?”
Shane began to nod, only for Iyla to make a low tsking noise, “Verbal response.”
“I understand,” Shane whispered.
“You are still upset. Why?”
“Ilya, I lied right to your face, and you found out on social media! You gave me less than a handful of rules, and I went and broke both. Why aren’t you angry? You’re so calm.”
“Shane, moy kotik, it’s going to be okay. Was I angry when I saw the pictures of you celebrating when you told me you were going home and that you understood the rules? Yes, I was upset. You made a bad choice. That doesn’t mean I’ll abandon you. I am here. You are my boyfriend. It is us against any problem. I think we have pretty good odds.”
Ilya’s heart dropped watching Shane’s eyes fill with tears again. The first time they were ever going to follow through with consequences was never going to be easy. But it hurt Ilya to watch Shane struggle. He made a low comforting rumble in the back of his throat, once again grabbing Shane into his arms as he reclined on the couch.
Shane clung to his boyfriend like the world would end if he let Ilya go, tucking his face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. Ilya could feel Shane’s tears on his neck, but he continued making comforting noises and began to whisper phrases his mother always used when he was upset as a child. He rubbed a hand up and down Shane’s back. Content to stay like this as long as it took for his Kotik to feel better. After all, nothing could hurt Shane in Ilya’s arms.
Eventually, Shane emerged from his favorite hiding spot, looking up at Ilya, not remotely surprised that his boyfriend’s eyes were already on his. He sniffled and pulled back a little more to properly face Ilya. He felt more settled from the break, but the guilt was still lurking low in his stomach, and he was nervous for what was coming.
Shane had no frame of reference for spanking outside of random old TV shows or the random smacks Ilya had given when they were fucking. The unknown bothered him; it always would. He knew it would hurt. But he was a professional hockey player. Hurt was relative for them in a way it probably wasn’t for the average person.
“You are thinking very hard.”
Shane glared over at Ilya, who looked completely comfortable, like this was any other day. For as long as he lived, Shane thought he would never get used to how comfortable Ilya was in his own skin. It was something that Shane couldn’t relate to, but that was Ilya, and that made him so solid for Shane.
Ilya tried not to smile at Shane’s glare; he still looked like an angry kitten. Shane was adorable, but Ilya knew any smirk or an appearance that he wasn't taking the glare seriously would just wind Shane right back up.
“You’re going to spank me now.”
“Soon.”
At Shane’s confusion, Ilya clarified, “Yes, I am going to spank you because you broke our rules.”
Shane lets out a whimper despite himself, and Ilya pats his knee in a soothing gesture.
“Even though spanking is the consequence. I want you to know if things are too much, you can say red, and everything stops.”
“Stop?”
“Yes, if spanking is not helping, or it makes you feel worse here,” Ilya said, patting Shane over his heart, “you say red, and everything stops, and we figure out something else. If you need to pause, say 'yellow, ' and I will check in. Green means everything is good, there are no issues.”
“Stop lights.”
“Very good, solnyshko, yes.”
The praise immediately makes Shane preen, his shoulders squaring. Ilya rose to his feet, holding out his hand, which his lovely boy took instantly. When both men were standing, Ilya pulled him into another hug and then gave him a kiss. As he took a step back, Ilya felt much better; Shane no longer looked like the world was about to fall apart around him. Or that he was about to spiral. He was calm, if a bit apprehensive.
Ilya took a seat on the couch, his thighs spread. He can feel Shane’s eyes tracking every minute movement. He beckoned Shane closer, and his amazing boy took two quick steps to stand between his knees.
“Pants down.”
Shane doesn’t know why that order immediately makes his stomach jolt. He’s lost count of how many times Ilya has seen him naked. In the context of him removing his pants to be spanked, though? It is embarrassing. Ilya watches as Shane pulls his sweatpants and underwear down, and he begins to blush all the way to the tips of his ears. God, he loves Shane so much.
When Shane was done removing his clothing, Ilya tapped his thighs. As Shane moved, Ilya helped get him situated. Shane’s torso was on the couch, his ass was square over one of Ilya’s thighs, and his legs were on the floor. Shane had no idea it was possible to blush more than he already had been, but he was. He never felt like his ass was more vulnerable than at this moment. He startles when Ilya’s hand is placed on his butt, immediately stiffening up.
“You’re okay,” Ilya soothed. His hands were rubbing over his exposed skin, which felt nice.
Shane knew that it wasn’t going to stay nice, though. He still managed to relax over his boyfriend’s hard thigh. He wouldn’t say that it was the most comfortable position, but it wasn’t bad yet. It helped that, as Ilya’s warm palm glided over his skin, he was making the soothing noises he made when Shane was in the middle of a meltdown.
“Ready, Kotik?”
Shane took a deep breath before he began to nod and also said, “Yes.”
It was hard not to want to brace as Ilya’s palm rose, but Shane didn’t have time to overthink his decision to agree that he was ready when his boyfriend’s palm landed in a swift smack. Ilya continued landing smacks all over his cheeks. It stings, but it isn’t awful. Shane relaxes; he had harder hits in hockey.
The sting is different. It builds as Ilya’s hard, calloused hand begins to go over already smacked flesh. He begins to squirm as the sting mounts; it’s beginning to hurt. Shane’s moving around more now, his eyes growing wet.
“You are doing so well, Malysh,” Ilya praised, which only made Shane’s control over not crying fracture.
Ilya’s hand lands with an audible crack, in a way it hadn’t before, and Shane’s eyes almost pop out of his head as he yelps. Shane hadn’t realized just how much of his strength Ilya had been holding back.
“You are important. When you are sick, whether it is a cold or something more serious, you need to rest.”
“Ow!” Shane groaned. “I knooow.”
“Yet you chose to go out with your team. You drank. What time did you get home?”
“I don’t remember!”
“Hm.”
Shane knows, down to his bones, that wasn’t the best response. He didn’t have to look at Ilya to know that he was not only not impressed, but he was annoyed. This may be his first spanking, but Shane knew that not remembering when he got home was not going to go over well. The next few smacks land impossibly louder than the one that caught Shane by surprise.
“Ow, fuck!”
“Hmm.”
Ilya’s thigh moves, and Shane is a bit confused. It tilts his hips up. He doesn’t get much time to ponder the slight change in positioning before Ilya’s palm lands lower on his cheeks.
“ILYA!”
“Shane, this is your sit-spot,” Ilya explains as his hand quickly reddens this apparently horribly sensitive area to spank.
Tears are streaming down Shane’s face, but he hasn’t noticed yet; he is more concerned that his boyfriend is going to make it so he’ll never be able to sit again. It’s like Ilya had set out to make Shane the first person who would be able to keep the population of Montreal warm with his ass alone.
“It hurts!” Shane cries, his feet kicking without conscious thought. “Ilya, please! I’m sorry.”
“3 AM, Shane,” Ilya tells him. “That was when you used your keycode.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“I know. What about telling your boyfriend you will go home and then go to bar instead?”
“Never!” Shane swears on a sob. “Won’t ever. Not again.”
“Not nice feeling to think you were safe at home, resting only to see you with beer in your hand.”
“They said they couldn’t go out without their c-c-captain,” Shane cried.
“Oh, so being captain is more important than resting?” Ilya demonstrates how unimpressed he is with that explanation by targeting the tops of Shane’s thighs. Shane stiffens and lets out a howl as Ilya’s hand flies between thigh tops quickly catching them up to the overall cherry shine the rest of his boyfriend’s butt has turned.
“I’m sorry. I’ll never…ever do it again. Ilya, please! Owww!”
Shane is shocked by how much this spanking hurt, especially with how it started. Then Ilya used his other thigh to pin Shane’s legs so he couldn’t kick as much. That was the last straw. With another muffled cry, Shane slumped bonelessly over his boyfriend’s lap. He was never going to be able to sit again. The Voyageurs were going to sue Ilya for damaging their Captain.
“Shh, Malysh, you’re okay, we’re all done.”
Ilya is rubbing his hand up and down Shane’s spine, murmuring words of comfort in Russian and English. Shane has no idea how much time he spent crying. It takes him a bit for him to realize he’s no longer being spanked. When Shane’s sobs turn to cries, and then into sniffling, Ilya whispers praise, continuing to rub up and down his boy’s spine.
“Are you ready to get up?” Ilya asks when Shane begins to fidget.
“Yes, please,” Shane croaks, only to squeak as Ilya flips his position with a dizzying move that Shane wouldn’t have been able to track even if he hadn’t been spanked within an inch of his life.
“You did so well, solnyshko. I’m so proud.”
Shane tucks his head into the crook of Ilya’s neck.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m never going to be able to sit again,” Shane reproached.
“Yes, butt hurts,” Ilya agreed, before he placed his palm over Shane’s heart. “How do you feel here?”
Shane shoots Ilya a dirty look; the latter grins at him when Shane appears to consider the question. “I feel better. No guilt. It still really hurt.”
“You were brave, moy kotik,” Ilya whispered with a smile. “Clean slate. We handled everything together.”
He leaned forward to kiss his boyfriend, and Shane met the kiss with equal enthusiasm. After a few more kisses, Shane pulls away and grabs Ilya’s hand. He watches as Shane looks at it, seemingly shocked at how red it is. He can see the gears turning in his love’s head, but before he can ask, Shane looks up.
“Your hands are too big,” Shane proclaimed. “They need to be registered as weapons.”
Ilya laughed loudly as he kissed Shane again. “You won’t need to worry if you stay, my good boy.”
“I’m serious!”
“Me too,” Ilya replied, scooping Shane up into his arms.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Bedroom for more cuddles and lotion for poor bottom.”
“Ilya!”
“Yes, yes. I’m horrible.”
Ilya took the stairs carrying the most important person in his life. He placed Shane on his stomach in the middle of the bed. Shane’s eyes are tracking his every movement.
“Wait, your bag was up here this whole time?”
“Da.”
“Fuck.”
“Da.” Ilya agreed, pulling out a tube of lotion. He sat next to Shane and gently spread the lotion over Shane’s well-spanked ass. Shane hisses in pain, but when Ilya is done, he felt much better.
Ilya left the lotion on Shane’s nightstand before climbing into bed. He was barely able to settle before Shane had already plopped himself on top of Ilya’s chest, his head on his boyfriend’s chest.
“I love you,” Shane whispered, already about to fall asleep.”
“I love you, Malysh,” Ilya responded, kissing the top of Shane’s head.
Not long after, both men fell asleep wrapped up in each other’s arms. The rest of Boston’s bye week would pass uneventfully. Shane spent as much time as he could with Ilya outside of practice and at another home game. There had been a stumble, but they had come out stronger and more settled for it.