Cheekbones That Kill

they like each other

"but you know me, i'm lazy, so." "i don't know that side of you at all."

"is that what we are going to do? relax?" "i hope so. i would like to relax with you. for once."

"because you like to be bad." "hey, that's not what this is. you and me. maybe it was at first but, not now, and not for a long time."

to the point where it even usurps other peoples interpretations of ilya before he gets the chance to internalize them -

"but, you hate him." "no. i mean, i get that. but no. i love him."

First it’s planning their meet-ups months ahead. Shane has time to plan his outfit, do a pre-workout, and complete his prep routine. When he’s hosting, the temperature is perfectly set, lights low, fresh towels set out on the counters. When Ilya’s hosting or a hotel, he builds in time to do everything he needs beforehand.

Once they’re married, that changes. Living together means things can be a lot more spontaneous (which he loves) but he also likes to know The Plan™️.

And once they’re married, Shane has no problem asking for what he wants so he can plan out his day and routine. It’s not particularly sexy, but he guesses that’s married life.

“Ilya?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to eat me out after the Canada match tonight?”

They had both been rooting for Canada at the world cup - Ilya even got them jerseys.

Ilya chokes and Shane frowns at him. “You okay?”

“I - just - what?”

“Well I’m going to do a full shower after my physio session with Amelia - I should be done by the time the Canada game starts. Oh - and I meant to ask if you liked those new frozen meals Lyn brought over. They’re a new brand.”

“I - yes, please Shane if I ever don’t want to eat you out, I have been replaced by aliens.”

“Okay, cool. And the meals?”

“Gross,” Ilya said. “But normal gross.”

~*~*~*~

“Ilya?”

“What?”

“Can we fuck on the couch tonight? With the fire going?”

Ilya grit his teeth and for a second Shane thought he would say no.

“Of course.”

“Maybe around 8? I bought 2 hour logs and the fire needs to be completely out by bedtime.”

“Okay.”

~*~*~*~

“Ilya!”

“Shane?”

“Look at your messages! I want to try that position. Maybe after we get back from our afternoon skate?”

~*~*~*~

“Ilya?” Shane asked through his cars bluetooth. Ilya was cooking and keeping him company on the phone as he drove back from an optometrist appointment. Much to his husband’s (fake) disappointment, his slight nearsightedness still didn’t need glasses for anything besides reading comfortably.

“Hm?”

“Did my package get delivered?”

“A package did. I put it on side table for you.”

“Can you go ahead and open it? I wasn’t sure what size to get so I got a few options. I want to try them this weekend - maybe Saturday? If they don’t fit, I’ll need to do another order tonight for 3 day shipping.”

He heard Ilya take a deep breath. He hated to give him another thing to do on top of making dinner, but he wanted to make sure they had the right sizes before they wanted to use them.

~*~*~*~

“Hey Ilya?” Shane said quietly, so the other people at the stuffy fundraiser couldn’t hear.

“Yes?” Ilya, his hand coming up to run through the back of Shane’s hair.

“I’m exhausted. Can we do shower blowjobs when we get home tonight?”

Ilya hand stuttered in his hair. Shane hated to disappoint him but he was too tired for his prep routine, his post routine, and cleaning the sheets. Or even getting up for Ilya to do it. Shower blowjobs had excellent clean up time and he could fall right into bed afterwards.

“That sounds perfect,” Ilya said, a little roughly.

~*~*~*~

Shane was going to kill him. Murder him. Like a sniper - out of the blue, at any given moment, Shane might call out to him all softly and then ask for hottest sex imaginable (all sex with Shane) AND THEN plan it for later, leaving Ilya incredibly worked up.

The worst part was Shane did not even know he did this to him - for Shane, it was just planning - run at 6, breakfast at 8:15, workout at 8:30, shower at 10, fuck husband at 10:45, off ice training at 12:15, etc. It drove Ilya insane.

@yearnalisms requested to bring this beautiful text post by @honeyybrii to gif form! all inspo credit to op of the text post! 💜 this tag is especially a good sum up of the set:

So when they’re lying in bed one day after a long evening practice, scrolling on their phones, Shane turns towards Ilya and asks, “what’s a ‘slavic stare’?”

“What?”

Shane turned his phone screen towards his husband. It’s a list of ‘Top 10 Athletes with Best Slavic Stare’.

“I am only number four?” Ilya frowned.

“What is it?” Shane pressed.

“Is this,” Ilya tossed his phone aside and rolled over on top of his husband. He had himself propped up on his hands, strong arms bracketing Shane’s head.

Shane looked confused at first. Ilya closed his eyes and set his features. When he opened his eyes, they were gazing up at Shane, chin tilted down. His jaw was set tight with a hard line at his brow. All playfulness had fled his features.

It was the same expression Shane had seen during important games. Games where Ilya wasn’t just trying to win, he was trying to destroy the other team.

“Ilya?” Shane breathed.

But Ilya just stared. It was intense, focused, like his world narrowed down to a single task.

It felt like… how Shane imagined a rabbit would feel caught in the eyes of a wolf.

“Ilya, stop it,” Shane wiggled, hands on Ilya’s chest to push him off. The fact he used about 10% of his strength to do this meant nothing.

Ilya grabbed both of his hands in one of his and pinned them above his head.

He said something in Russian that Shane only caught fragments of. His voice was deeper like it got when he spoke his native language. Shane got “you” “wanted” “good boy” and “me” but it was enough for him to vaguely catch onto the meaning.

“Ilya, I’m…,” Shane whined and unsuccessfully tried to yank his hands back. “I’m tired. I just wanted an…explanation.”

“But you are hands-on learner,” Ilya said in English but with a thick accent, not dropping the stare.

Shane squeezed his eyes close as Ilya dipped to capture his prey.

the concept of star-eating microbes causing a crisis and the solution being the introduction of space wolves to space yellowstone to control the space elk population. i love a good trophic cascade

dr ryland grace immediately pitching "turn the spaceship into a giant centrifuge to generate gravity" and then not balancing his actual centrifuge later on

the entire "life is reason" scene really

grace forgetting to open the mystery alien container in a fume hood AND immediately sticking his nose in it. if we did this in chemistry lab we were executed on the spot

academia drama being one of the cornerstones of grace's character

grace switching through every spectrum setting on the microscope to try to see into the astrophages and not being able to (relatable)

also: the astrophage dying and grace going "ohhh it died..." (very relatable)

grace having his not-scientist buddy Carl to give him frank solutions when he's overthinking. yes, often the solution is just to put the box in another box

copious duct tape usage

just sticking a filter into the path of the petrova line to collect astrophage goop

eva going "so it's alive" when grace tells them the astrophage are moving, and him being like "WELL ok that could be for a lot of reasons" in the tone of someone who doesn't even know where to start explaining why that's a hasty assumption

grace referring to the first new astrophage as his and carl's baby multiple times (HIGHLY relatable)