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"My supermodel. See how fucking beautiful you look here. You are hockey and sex. Everyone in this city sees this billboard and wants to fuck you. But only I can. Only I get to fuck the sexy billboard man."

He keeps Shane this way for ages, not touching him, bringing him right to the edge, only to stop and talk about another part of Shane's photo he likes like he's talking about a work of art in a gallery. Then he goes right back to fucking him.

When he finally wraps a hand around Shane's cock and tells him that it's okay to let go, that he's done so well and that Ilya wants to see him come for him now, Shane comes so hard he almost blacks out.

they’re out to lunch? no mama hollander doesn’t pay when i’m around. she’s trying to leave? no, no, don’t you dare touch that handle yuna. they’re going shopping? mama i trained for this moment, you think it was for stanley cup? wrong, is for bag carrying. yuna is having the boys over for dinner? no no there must be another space on the mantle for this bouquet, we will make space mama.

i think ilya loves to spoil the mama he has, in memory of the mama he doesn’t. and because #myilya just really loves women.

Clark translates it for her: “May the script of this House (El) protect you.”

thousands of tiny overlapping lines where the suit repaired itself in the Fortress; and then, in Ma’s delicate blue stitching, carefully inscribed: “May the script of this House protect you.”

in her stitching, the meaning changes ever so slightly. there isn’t a symbol or glyph for the Kent House, but the thread speaks for itself.

And Shane’s explained it to him before, how the days filled with heavy social interaction, with so much input from people, noises, places, just so much for Shane to filter- wear him out. While Shane is more himself with the cens than he’d ever ever ever been with the metros, he still has a bit of a mask up, a more social version of himself. It’s different when it’s just him and Ilya alone at home, and he doesn’t have to remind himself about eye contact and handshakes and smiling when someone talks be he is interested he just forgets he needs to show that sometimes. Anyway.

They get home and Shane has been yawning the whole drive back, his hand heavy and tired on Ilya’s thigh, thumb rubbing and playing with the seam of his jeans. They stumble inside and Ilya expects showers and sleep, they go about their routines, sleep heavy and with little words between them and when they are clean climbing under the covers Ilya doesn’t expect a lap full of Shane. He sits himself on top of Ilya and wraps his arms around his neck and nuzzles in to find his mouth. They kiss hot and warm and slow and Ilya shoves his hands up the back of Shane’s soft worn sleep shirt, his most favourite, best for days like this when everything else feels harsh and sharp and cold and horrible.

Shane doesn’t ask, doesn’t say much he’s quiet but fussy, squirmy little thing like he always is when he wants it, wants Ilya, when he’s a little shy about it for whatever reason. He’s just all grippy and hot touches, hands like honey gripping and pulling and dragging all over Ilya. Ilya lets Shane guide him, take what he wants, grips and pulls and helps his hot rutting hips down against him, but he doesn’t pull his clothes off, he lets Shane take and show him. Eventually Shane takes Ilya’s hands and pushes them to the waistband of his boxers. And then Ilya’s searching fingers find hot slick soft wet and oh, his sweet Shane had gotten himself ready in the shower for this, pink cheeked twisted and looking over his shoulder as he fit his fingers into himself to get him open for Ilya. Oh his baby. His needy love, frustrated and overwhelmed and seeking. Ilya knows then for sure it’s one of the nights where Shane needs more more more.

So then it’s Shane kicking off his boxers (his shirt is staying ON because when ilya had pushed a curious hand under it he has shaken his head) Ilya’s fingers pushing inside, the slick of lube to make him wet and open and he’s trying to push Ilya’s wrist away after just a couple opening thrusts of his fingers and Ilya manages to kiss him into a few more before Shane is pulling Ilya cock out of his sweats and sitting himself down with not so much as a pause. It makes Ilya breathless and his hands are all fisted up in Shane’s soft shirt and then Shane’s body goes so lovely and soft, he curls himself around Ilya, legs around Ilya’s body, arms around him and his head curled into his neck. He’s nuzzling his mouth in almost ticklish soft circles against the soft skin of the side of Ilya’s neck. His thrusts are tiny little things, ruts of his hips that keep Ilya deep deep deep as he rocks back and forth back and forth gently. It draws Ilya close and keeps him there, hovering in the tight unrelenting grip of Shane’s body. And Shane is just soft soft happy sighs, his whole body warm and relaxed and a lovely weight in Ilya’s arms. He doesn’t even seem to be working towards orgasm, content to squirm and be filled like this, where he can’t physically take anymore. His hips pushing down down down to make sure he’s stretched to the full weight of Ilya’s cock. He’s dragging his fingers all over Ilya’s back, touches reverent and hot and he’s making soft hums when Ilya grips a strong hand at the back of his neck, squeezing gently.

Shane rides him like that till they are both shuddery and Shane is hiccupy with it, breaths stumbling as he pushes his face into Ilya’s chest, simpers and turns his sweaty face into Ilya’s palm when he cups his face. He takes Ilya thumb into his mouth quickly when it’s offered, eyes glassy and loving and gazing at Ilya big and wet long lashed and he looks so loose, strung out and safe, safe looking at Ilya, anchored on him, hard and taking taking taking Ilya, feeling him breathing him tasting him. Ilya cooes when Shane’s movements get messy and tired, uses the hand not taken by Shane’s mouth to help pull his hips in in in in and whispers “it’s okay sweetheart I’ve got you, make yourself feel good, it’s ok, I’ll help” and then shane is coming wet between them with a soft sound and the pinch of his nails into Ilya’s bicep and he all but sobs when Ilya adjusts them, a blind quiet “no no no no” pushing himself back down on Ilya shaking at his own sensitivity, rocking down on him like he’s convincing him to stay.

when ilya learns that either of them know how to play at all after dinner one night at the hollander house, he can't quite hide his surprise. he enjoys playing with shane and his parents nonetheless. the family gets quite loud, but it's so different from the way ilya's family used to get loud. this is rambunctious. this is safe. this is fun, actually, even though shane keeps elbowing ilya in the side with how he's shifting from side to side where they sit next to each other on the loveseat.

it's only after they turn off the tv—after yuna pulls shane aside to talk about some sponsorship meeting before shane and ilya leave for the night—that ilya finds out why shane's parents know how to play.

he's joking around with david as they clean up the living room together, saying that for all that shane might have gotten some of david's hockey skills, the video game know-how clearly must be from yuna.

david laughs and smiles, but it's a smile tinged by sadness. "yuna was actually worse than me at the start, if you can believe it," he says.

ilya makes an exaggerated noise of surprise. "no, this i do not believe! she kicked both our asses tonight. she gave even shane a run for his money."

"yes, she did," david says. "but she worked for it. we got the game for shane for his birthday one year—he had been invited to a classmate's house, and he played it there, and he liked it so much. but it was right at that age where the teachers stopped insisting everyone in the class got a birthday invite, and shane wasn't invited back. and none of his teammates were extending invites, either."

david doesn't elaborate, but ilya can hazard a guess anyway. little shane, in turns rambunctious about his interests and shy about everything else. of a one-track mind, like he is now. particular in the way he likes to do things and unable to explain why at that age. more talented than other kids his age. different from other kids his age, in more ways than one. ilya knows how kids treat kids like that.

"and so we got him the game, right? but he had no one to play it with, and he got tired of playing against the computer after a while. it stopped being fun for him—after he had been so excited about it before! almost as excited as he was about playing hockey."

david is looking down at his hands where he's neatly wrapping the charging cords for the controllers back up. ilya, on the other hand, has paused where he was folding up one of the throw blankets. he can't look away from david's face, so nostalgic and so full of love for his son. for the love of ilya's life.

"so yuna and i said we would play with him after he finished his homework one night. it was hard. there's so many buttons, and yuna got so frustrated. she's like shane—she doesn't like to lose. if she's not good at something right away, if she's not passionate about it, it can be a struggle to get her to keep trying."

david chuckles, and ilya smiles even though his throat feels a little tight. like mother, like son.

david keeps going. "i swear, she almost threw a controller at the wall. we both did. shane was so happy, though! you should have seen him. he had the biggest smile on his face. we kept playing, even though he was kicking our butts. and after he went to bed, yuna said that we had to get better so we could keep playing with him. when we took turns taking him to hockey practice, whoever was at home would go against the computer for a little bit after the chores were done. and there were a few date nights where yuna's parents would take shane and we'd just stay in, playing round after round. very romantic, i know. but it was worth it. the first night yuna beat shane, he was just thrilled. you'd think he would have been upset, right? especially being so young—you know how little kids can get. but he wasn't. he was glad to have a challenge. he was glad to have a reason to keep playing and get better. it made it fun for him again."

ilya can picture little shane, giggling, smiling a gap-toothed smile. he can picture little shane picking up the controller for another round, a determined and concentrated set to his little baby brow.

ilya + shane's chest