The Electric Cat Noise

"Because the decision rests entirely on the Montana Constitution, it is insulated from the U.S. Supreme Court. Under the principle of adequate and independent state grounds, the federal Supreme Court cannot review a state court's interpretation of its own constitution, so long as that constitution provides more protection than the federal one. [...] What this means in practice is that Montana's transgender residents now have a constitutional shield completely independent of the Supreme Court of the United State’s decisions."

And for Harris…Ilya signed with Ottawa not long after he started working there. As an Ottawa fan, Harris was probably THRILLED to land a star center. But as their new employee he must have been nervous that Ilya would live up to every asshole rumor. Then in walks a kind, gloriously catty man whose eyes light up when he sees Harris’s pride pins

"Yeah, well this☝🏼fucking faggot 🏳️‍🌈 won this team three cups. all while sucking grade a 🤤 dick 🍆 so jot that down. 📝

"And then my soon-to-be husband takes me home and fucks me 🫦 right in front of all of my trophies 🏆. So the next time you all get pity birthday sex 🛌🏼from the wives that resent you for your affairs and stay with you because at least they don't have to look at you for too much of the year - remember that ☝🏼this faggot 🏳️‍🌈 got you those banners hanging up above the rink you skate on so proudly.

"You don't want me in your locker rooms? Fine. Take down those banners then. Ilya can use them to tie me to the bed and fuck me until the only God🙏🏽 I know is the one with a Russian accent 🇷🇺 and a 9 inch cock.🍆

They go until Shane is sore, shaky, use mouths and hands when he physically needs a break. But then it’s nearly light out and they have to leave by 8am sharp (the car is packed, Ilyas suitcase packed, everything pre sorted to save every minute they have today for as long as they can. Ilya had watched Shane pack up Ilyas case for him (because Shane told him he was doing it wrong), pissing him off as he goes, sneaking things of Shane’s into his case, weirdly enough at one point the book from Shane’s bedside, less weirdly Shane’s glasses. Once everything was where it was meant to be (minus one of Shane’s metros sweatshirts, but Shane won’t realise that will much later) Ilya had helped Shane put it in the car, before drawing him down to the water for one last swim).

It’s purple grey, soft light and Shane feels a panic flicker in his chest because they should try and sleep after this, even for an hour- even if it’s just them eyes closed trying to sleep because it’s a long drive and Shane has his precious cargo to deliver to the airport. But now, for now, Ilya is inside him thick and heavy and hot and he’s sore and achy and throbbing from taking him but his stomach turns at the thought of being empty. So his arms tighten around Ilya, over his shoulders, hands greedy and hungry ofer the muscles of his back, nails digging in, in. And his thighs are tight, tighter around Ilya because he’s thinking about sleeping alone in this bed tonight, in many beds across many months that aren’t his and aren’t Ilyas and it hurts. Shane doesn’t want to cry so he swallows and presses his face right into the curve of Ilyas neck, breaths him, feels the thunder of Ilyas pulse in his neck, against Shane’s mouth.

Shane doesn’t want to cry but then Ilya is so deep inside him, pushing him open open open and tears are stinging in his lash line, he can feel Ilyas hand gripping hand to his hip, so hard it might bruise, Shane hopes he feels it tomorrow, alone in this bed and the thought of that makes his lips part, turn his face and he sinks his teeth into the muscle of Ilyas shoulder where it connects to his neck and he bites. He doesn’t cry, he bites and he sucks and he pulls his tongue over the skin, tongue and teeth and tongue and soothes himself with the taste of Ilya, of him here here here. He comes with his teeth sunk in so hard he is surprised not to feel the split of skin.

He feels less hysterical after, then Ilya cleans him and kisses him and cooes at him, they cuddle and touch and fit into each other until they find some kind of hazy sleep. Shane knows they will be ok, as he half drifts, half awake, half asleep, feeling Ilya on top of him, face on his chest, heavy and real and his and Ilya will be his even when it’s hotel rooms and seperate beds and his favourite boy in the world just living in his phone.

The hysteria maybe maybe comes back when they drag themselves awake, heavy and tired and sad, quiet, fidgety. Restless for the looking goodbye- the hysteria is back when Shane watches Ilya brush his teeth and sees the fucking welt his mouth has left from last night- thoughtless to it till now, that it would leave such a mark. Its teeth indents, still and dark red purple, burst Bood vessels under skin- and before he can apologise Ilya is shaking his head. “Say sorry about it and I’ll send a picture of it to your mother” because he loves to say something stupid and Shane is hot hot hot inside. Burning inside. But he doesn’t want to apologise then- he worries, deep and throbbing like a wound that somehow someone will know it was Shane’s mouth that left it- worries that it’ll give them away, when Ilya is no doubt ribbed about it at training in a few days- but.

His Shane who can’t do too many noises his shane who finds some textures wrong, sensations sharp, lights overwhelming. His Shane who likes- needs things soft, his Shane who pushes, works, flourishes under fluorescent lights and on a ice cold rink and in skates that pinch, heavy layers of gear, gets pushed and slammed and then asked and photographed and posed. His Shane who needs things soft but lives in hard for so much of his time, for so long because of his passion for hockey, because he wants to fit in, because he wants to be good. Because the world isn’t made to be soft for him and he seems to accept it. His Shane who exhausts himself existing a lot of the time because it’s out of his comfort.

Ilya, however doesn’t think of one thing he wouldn’t try and change with his own to hands to make Shane feel safe, good. To make Shane realise he doesn’t always have to be good, that the world could owe him and accommodate go him to make it better. Ilya would bend anything to his will to make even one thing easier for Shane. And it’s small things at the start, he replaces his sheets in Boston with the ones Shane had at the cottage, at his apartment in Montreal (because he had been listening to Shane explain the high thread count and the softness of them even when he’d been pretending to shrivel up and die on the soft while Shane did laundry, he had been listening because he loves the boring Shane Hollander who cares deeply about the sheets he sleeps on).

Then it’s other easy things, tossing shirts and hoodies of his that seem to personally offend Shane. (He figures out quickly that it’s the synthetic and silk fibres that Shane hates most) and really it’s no chore because he loves the way Shane curls up into him like a content cat nuzzling his face into Ilyas shirt when it’s a fabric he likes (or even better, the best when Shane comes downstairs dressed in ilyas hoodie, sweat pants, his smile still a little shy all these years in like he’s getting away with something, like Ilya wouldn’t offer his heart from his own chest for Shane). Easy still to keep buying the body wash that Shane had loved, almost scentless but a clean soapy faint spicy smell, to get dimmers on all the light fixtures in his house in Boston (then in Ottawa). Easy to keep the volume a couple clicks lower on the action scenes in the movies he’s watching, to keep the bedroom cool and to play the games on his phone on mute.

It becomes natural to give Shane squeezes firm and strong on the back of his neck when he starts to get a bit too worked up, hands a little frantic (planning, talking, fighting, fucking). Its second nature to lay on top of Shane when he’s fidgeting while they try to relax (Shane is so bad at relaxing) to press his head to his chest and let his full body weight help sink Shane into the touch. He doesn’t even notice anymore letting Shane play with his fingers, his jumpers, his curls, fingers working soothing circles. (He really loves indulging Shane’s oral fixation, he’d feel greedy if he didn’t know how badly Shane needed it too, how he goes all glossy eyes and pliant and happy, sweet and calm and in his skin so comfortably with his mouth full of fingers or cock or Ilyas tongue. But also sometimes it’s Shane falling asleep after sex with ilyas thumb in his mouth, sucking it for comfort. Ilyas knows Shane won’t let himself have that unless it’s after sex, then he can hide it under being fucked out rather than desire. They don’t talk about it, but Ilya adores when Shane pulls his hand to his mouth just for that. He feels so needed, so good to help soothe shane)

There are bigger things that are harder to change, press conferences, lights of cameras, chaos of photoshoots, award nights where for so long Ilya just has to watch from a distance as his Shane winds up tighter and tighter and tighter because it’s all wrong (wrong sounds sights smells, too much too much) for Shane and Ilya has to wait and wait until they are finally alone and he can undo it for him, bring him back to himself safe and warm and comfortable, Ilyas. When he can be by his husbands side he does what he can to bend these to his will too, to offer the rookies or himself to do press after a long game or when he can see the twitch in Shane’s jaw the quiet of his eyes that tell ilyas he’s already a long way away in his head.

He keeps Shane tucked close to him at awards, gives them breaks away from it outside under the guise of him needing a smoke break. He enjoys it, caring for Shane, being the one to make a place for his boy to shine. To see his laugh soft and genuine with their teammates when they are out instead of it being tight and skittering. Love when Shane is relaxed enough to make jokes or indulge Ilya in a soft kiss, softened by not having to have his protective walls up from being overwhelmed.

It’s so easy, in a club or bar, to pull Shane into him, fit his head to his chest and to cradle Shane’s head in his large palm, hand fitted over his ear to muffle sounds, so worth it for the way Shane melts into him a little more, the way Shane can stay out longer and enjoy himself when Ilya makes it right for him.