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What did he mean it was his idea?
The thought bounced around Shane’s brain like a puck floating around the boards as he tried to make sense of it. His mom had received a call about the commercial and they were quick to accept, seeing as it had been in just two days' time, but there was no mention of Ilya or of his agent. Nothing at all to suggest this wasn’t the work of CCM’s people.
But if it was true, and Ilya had played a role in Shane being here, in this commercial, in this rink with him…
Shane shook his head, trying not to let that thought take root.
He stripped off his gear and then his clothing, wrapping himself in a fresh towel before making his way into the showers. The commercial was a closed set, so there weren’t many people milling about in the building, and only two athletes that would even need the locker room today. One of them being himself, and the other being a perplexing Russian who he’d seen laugh today. Actually laugh.
He hung his towel on a hook and walked to the middle showerhead on the far wall. He fiddled with the handles until the water ran hot, steam billowing up around him, before he stepped under the stream.
Flashes of Ilya’s mouth, his lips stretching wide as he smiled and then laughed, stormed his memory. His brow creased and he closed his eyes, seeing Ilya in his mind’s eye, skating back and forth on the ice, so fast and fluid in his movements. The last time he’d seen him, Ilya was in a sour mood after having just lost to Canada and he looked none too happy as Shane had smiled widely.
Had he really wanted him here with him? Shane tried very hard not to think about what that might mean. He lathered up his body, using the soap that was provided, and turned to let the water course over his achy back muscles.
His heart nearly stopped.
Ilya was there now, hanging up his towel on a hook right next to Shane’s. There were three showerheads on each wall, spaced evenly across the wide room. Ilya sauntered over to the space right next to Shane, making brief eye contact before he twisted the handles to get the water flowing for himself.
Shane turned back around to face the wall, ducking his head under the water, his hands wiping rivulets of water from his eyes. He craned his neck to the side ever so slightly. His eyes betrayed him, darting to Ilya’s broad back, watching his muscles ripple under his skin as Ilya worked soap onto his large thighs. Shane’s traitorous eyes dipped further down and his breath hitched at the sight of Ilya’s round ass. He snapped his head back to face the wall in front of him when he’d realized Ilya was looking straight at him.
Fuck.
Shane wiped his hair off his forehead and began calculating the distance from where he stood to his towel. He needed to get out of there. Now.
His feet were glued to the floor, his legs suddenly weighed down and unable to move. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ilya was still there, just a few steps and he’d be able to reach out and touch his golden skin, run his fingers through his wet curls, trace his moles down his stomach to the hair there.
Fuck. Why was he thinking about that?
His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he tried to swallow. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his blood pumping loud and his blood felt electrified. He chanced another look to the side and Ilya’s eyebrows raised suggestively as his eyes were looking at Shane now. He was staring at his crotch. Shane looked down and…oh fuck he was hard now.
“Fuck off.” Shane’s words fell flat between them. He’d tried to sound commanding, but he was having trouble breathing. His dick was hard and Ilya had seen it. Shane felt like he was going to die right there on the spot.
And then, Ilya turned to face Shane, his body on display for Shane’s eyes to devour. Ilya’s large hand was wrapped around his cock and Shane could see he was hard too. His long fingers were sliding up and down, stroking at a menacingly even pace, the muscles in his forearm rippling.
Shane could not avert his eyes to save his life. His lips parted and a noise escaped his lips, but he didn’t turn away. He was rooted to the spot, watching this man - so strong and muscled and glistening in the water - work himself over.
Shane’s brain glitched. It must have. Because now his own hand was gliding over his stomach, through the small patch of hair, and then onto his cock. He wrapped a hand around himself and squeezed hard. His eyes fluttered closed for only a second. Maybe if he squeezed it hard enough, the pain would snap him out of this haze he’d found himself in.
But squeezing only made his knees feel like buckling. His eyes locked with Ilya’s, whose mouth was hanging open, his own breathing was heavy. They were stroking together and panting loudly, soft moans escaping Shane’s lips as he stroked harder and faster.
Ilya stepped forward, like his dick was guiding him over to Shane’s. Ilya’s eyes roamed Shane’s skin and he could feel his face flush. The water was hot, but that wasn’t what was causing the tips of his ears to turn pink. Ilya’s eyes, that had been bright before, were now smouldering and darker than he’d ever seen them. Ilya watched Shane’s hands as one continued pumping while the other reached below, his fingertips tickling his balls softly before tugging on them.
It was Ilya that was moaning now and Shane felt a rush of pleasure knowing he was the cause of that sound coming from him now. They sped up, almost in competition with each other, racing to see who could come first. This was ridiculous. But Shane didn’t want this to end. Waves of the most delectable sensation were coursing over him now. Shit, he was going to come right here in front of Ilya Rozanov. The very sexy and wet Ilya Rozanov.
******
Fuuck. Ilya couldn’t believe this was happening.
When he had the idea for the Shane Hollander, Canada’s prince of hockey, to join him for this commercial, he could only dream that something like this would become reality. What he expected, though, was mostly skating and filming, and that Ilya would hopefully find time to talk to Shane, if only so he could stare at those freckles as they taunted him above that perfect mouth.
Now, Shane’s olive skin shimmered as water cascaded down around him. He was stroking his cock fervently and Ilya was aching to drop to his knees and take it into his mouth. But he didn’t want to scare him off. He wanted this so badly, but he wanted to make sure Shane wanted it just as much.
Shane’s beautiful, taut skin was flushing the prettiest rose color and he could sense he was close. That made Ilya’s cock twitch hard in his hand as he sped up the pace. He was going to come and it was going to be a lot. His balls hung heavy and they ached in the best way.
Ilya forced his eyes away from Shane’s gorgeous dick so he could watch his face. Shane’s eyes were closed now and he’d propped one arm on the wall to hold himself up it seemed. A strangled noise echoed around the tiled room as Shane released himself. That sent Ilya over the edge, his come spurting, a moan escaping his own lips. Shane was leaning up against the wall now, his face burrowing into the crook of his elbow.
Ilya couldn’t hold back any longer. He erased the distance between them, his hand grazing up the side of Shane’s ribcage so delicately. Shane’s head popped up out of hiding, meeting Ilya’s face with a look of …what? Confusion? Regret? Lust.
He looked drunk on lust. Ilya’s hand found Shane’s chin, hooking his thumb under his chin and his long fingers trapped his cheek as he lowered his head slowly towards Shane’s. Their lips were so close now, he could probably stick his tongue out and lick along his lower lip, but he needed to know that Shane was okay with this. Shane’s head fell forward, bringing their lips within centimeters and then Ilya crashed his lips to his. His tongue dove into Shane’s mouth, searching, tasting. Their tongues lapped at each other and Ilya’s heart felt like it was floating. Shane was kissing him back.
He broke the kiss, his forehead leaning against Shane’s.
His throat was dry and his voice was gravely, but he managed to get the words out. “What is your room number?”