Work Text:
“Oh lord, have you seen the ad?” Rose asked desperately as soon as Shane picked up the phone, her words infused with a level of attraction that, thankfully, he hadn’t heard in quite a few years.
“No,” he said flatly, absolutely mystified as to what she was talking about. He never kept up on anything close to celebrity gossip, and he wasn’t about to start trying now. “What, some new hot actor or something?”
Rose’s responding laughter was bright and familiar–the laugh that said, ‘Oh, Shane, you have no idea.’ “No, babe. Hot? Fuck, yes. Actor? Not exactly. Look up Tiffany’s new campaign.”
Bemused and admittedly uninterested, Shane sighed and removed his phone from his ear to type quickly into the search bar, already scowling a little about wasted time.
When the results popped up, he almost dropped his phone.
“Rozanov, what the fuck?” he whispered into the empty room, feeling his body heat up and his mouth pop open as he watched the ad.
A very familiar silhouette against Tiffany blue. Ilya–his Ilya–in a cream-colored suit that dipped so low on his chest it was mouthwatering, his smile-smirk making Shane’s stomach do backflips in his abdomen. His fiancé's fingers slowly circling around the rim of a pale rose, a knowing glimmer in his eyes, that fucking grin on his face.
Shane let out a small whine, fingers gripping his phone so tightly it was close to breaking.
Then–
A closeup.
Ilya smiling sweetly. Adorably, like the way he did when they acted like idiots out on the lake, splashing each other like children and chirping each other incessantly. Hand moving to tuck curls behind his ear, eyes boring into Shane’s soul through the screen.
Fuck.
Shane was very hard.
A fade to the silhouette again, then the Tiffany logo.
Was it hot, all of a sudden?
“Oh my god,” he murmured, voice strangled, as he mindlessly moved his thumb to watch the ad again. And again. And again.
“Shane? Still with me?” Rose’s small voice sounded through the speaker, making Shane jump. He’d completely forgotten she was waiting on the line for his reaction.
Slamming the phone to his ear, he cleared his throat loudly. “I–uh. Yeah. Fuck.”
Her musical laughter was teasing. “He didn’t tell you about this, I take it?”
“I mean…I knew that my mom’s been getting him brand deals, but shit, I didn’t think to ask for details,” Shane mumbled, brain fixated completely on that moment in the ad when Ilya’s fingers had traced around the rose, his mind helpfully reminding him that Ilya’s fingers were very good at tracing around other things. “That was–fuck.”
“Mhm. That’s how other people feel about it, too,” Rose giggled, sounding like she was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Did you read the comments?”
“What? No, I–”
He pushed the speakerphone button and looked back to the ad again, this time wrenching his eyes away from Ilya’s smile to look at the comments below the caption.
rozysgurl
Omg roz did you want me to come?
hlpxo
Shit i forgot to breathe
_thb95
that HAIR fcuk i love him
annie8124
respectfully drooling
benhereb4
and now im pregnant
“What the hell?” he muttered, loud enough for Rose to hear.
“People are feral,” Rose said happily, a grin in her voice. “It’s insane.”
“I–how can an ad even get someone pregnant?” Shane questioned bemusedly, eyes on benhereb4’s comment. “Like…”
“It’s an expression, Shane,” Rose giggled. “Like Ilya’s so sexy that he impregnated them through the screen.
Grimacing, Shane felt a wave of annoyance wash through him. That made zero sense. “Ew, that’s….these are so ridiculous! Like what about this one? Maisie20 says, ‘But seriously…did you see that smile? Those fingers? Can Shane Hollander fight?’ What do I have to do with anything? And obviously I can fight, I play professional hockey, I–”
“No Shane,” Rose laughed, louder this time. “She’s saying she wants Ilya. That she’ll fight you for him. It’s a…a thing. A saying, it’s…”
But Shane wasn’t listening. He was too busy digesting that information, fury and an unfamiliar amount of possessiveness flooding his body in such levels he suddenly felt lightheaded, a plan formulating in his brain.
–
He didn’t tell Ilya about his idea. Maybe it was because he was a little embarrassed about his feelings, or maybe it was because he wanted to surprise him. Either way, he kept his mouth shut the next time he saw his fiancé, focusing instead on the…positive outcomes of the ad.
“Ah, so you liked it, then,” Ilya panted, having already manhandled him to the bed and divested him of his clothing, their naked bodies pressed close, their weeping cocks dragging together deliciously as Ilya moved above him.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane groaned, back arching as he felt heat spark down his spine. “You know I loved it. Half the fucking world loved it, too.” He couldn’t resist adding the last part, that stupid comment still eating at him.
“Thought of you though,” Ilya murmured, easing back, settling on his knees between Shane’s spread legs and tracing a finger around his twitching hole. “You know? Could you tell?” He pressed on the furled entrance, not enough to breach it, but enough to make Shane whine at the pleasure that zinged through his body.
And yeah, it was reassuring. To know that Ilya thought of him, even when the world thought of Ilya.
“Oh my god, yes,” he whined, eyes fluttering closed as he heard Ilya reach for lube. “That stupid flower, what the fuck?” Because when he wasn’t thinking about comments about the ad, he was thinking of those damn fingers.
“Ah, yes. They told me to…what did they say? ‘Play with this, Ilya,’” Ilya murmured, pressing his now-slick fingers back to Shane’s hole, slowly teasing the rim, eliciting sparks that ricocheted over his skin. “‘Like you are playing with lover.’” He leaned forward, leering at Shane. “What do you think? Did it remind you of things I do to you, malysh?”
It was no use. Every thought in his brain that didn’t have to do with Ilya’s face, his smile, his fingers, melted from Shane’s mind, leaving him breathless and gasping. “You–ah!--you know it did,” he groaned, giving in to his need, wanting so much more than Ilya was giving him, sweat beading on his brow and heat building low on his spine. God, he was so gone for this man.
Ilya beamed triumphantly. “Good.”
And fuck, that word. It made Shane melt.
When his first finger breached Shane, he was already a mess, eyes rolling back in his head, Ilya’s name the only word on his lips.
But after, as he lay, sated, next to the love of his life, another spark of possessiveness curled in his chest. Yes, Shane was going to do something about those stupid comments.
–
“Shane. You did not.”
He couldn’t help it. He smirked darkly as he looked at Rose’s delightedly shocked face.
He’d decided to show her the ad first, as she was one of the most reasonable people he knew. Yuna was just thrilled that Shane was branching out in his brand deals, so she had no reason to tell him he was being crazy, and Hayden would immediately tell Shane he was being ridiculous just on principle.
But he figured Rose, who was more neutral, would actually keep a level head.
“Is it too much?” he asked a bit shyly.
It was…a lot, to be sure. Photographs of him in a white tank and short white shorts (the kind that Ilya adored on him), his fists flying through the air. He’d signed on to represent a new brand of athletic wear, with the stipulation that this would be the direction of the ad. The brand had been thrilled just to have him, so they’d taken the condition in stride.
He had to say: he looked pretty lethal in the images. Face stony, body dripping with sweat, muscles tense and defined…he did not look like Canada’s good boy, the one everyone expected him to be. He looked ready to kill.
He kind of loved it.
“It’s so fucking good,” Rose beamed, eyes on the images. “Fuck you for being gay, these are so hot.”
He felt himself blush. “Uh…sorry?” He wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“Apologize to the large number of people who will faint when this ad goes live, including your fiancé,” Rose shot back, smirking, completely unabashed.
–
He knew it was stupid. The whole thing was stupid. But still…this was what being out meant, right? Being able to love Ilya unapologetically?
So, a small nervous smile on his face, he finished writing the caption for the image from the ad he’d selected, then hit ‘post.’
It took Ilya, who was visiting from Ottawa, about forty-five seconds to stumble in from the other room, a look on his face like Christmas had come early.
“Sweetheart,” he said hoarsely, phone in hand, eyes wider than saucers even as he beamed so triumphantly his teeth gleamed. “What did you just do?”
Shane squirmed a bit from his spot on the couch. “I did a new brand deal,” he said simply, feeling his lips curve upward a little. “Posted a preview on my Instagram.”
But Ilya was already moving to kneel in front of him, smile brighter than the sun. “‘I saw some of you asking, on some of Ilya’s recent pics, if I can fight. Here’s my answer.’ Hollander. Shane. Malysh. Sweetheart. Love of my life. You will kill me,” he murmured, eyes travelling hungrily up Shane’s frame, making his whole body light up with desire.
He tried to stay calm; nonchalant. “I wanted people to know you’re mine,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder.
“Yes,” Ilya nodded reverently, fingers moving to the button of his pants, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. “I am yours. Forever. And you? Fuck. That picture. Shane."
"You like it?" he asked breathlessly, bucking into Ilya's touch.
"You make me crazy. You look like...like you look on ice. Tough. Scary, but in sexy way. So good, sweetheart," Ilya murmured, dragging one finger over the line of Shane's still-clothed cock, making him twitch in his boxers.
He just bit at his lip, trying not to seem completely wrecked already just from Ilya's words, even as he felt his whole body bubble with the type of fervent, desperate need only Ilya could satisfy.
"I am yours. And you are mine, yes?” Ilya's palm moved to press on Shane’s hardening cock, still covered by his boxers. "People will look at pretty pictures, but only I can touch, yes?"
“Fuck. Yes, Ilya, always,” Shane groaned, sinking into the cushions a little, riding the feeling of being worshipped.
“Good,” the other man smiled, pulling his boxers down and leaning low, lips only centimeters from the head of Shane’s cock. “We belong to each other. Now let me prove this to you.”
“Ilya.” He said the man's name like a prayer, word breaking and crackling on his lips. Hand moving to grab golden curls, back arching, head pressing into the couch, Shane lost himself in the warmth of Ilya’s mouth around him, the sinful, worshipping pleasure of his tongue.
Yes, he could fight, and he would fight for Ilya. Just as Ilya would fight for him.
But they didn’t have to. Not anymore.