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Guys I doooo think that after Shane and Ilya got back to the cottage after coming out to Shane’s parents is the first time Shane spent time on his knees for Ilya. In a new way.
They get home and Shane is exhausted and bit giddy and has dried tears on his face and his eyes are red and he’s just. So fucking relived? And kinda spinning out and still reminding himself the world didn’t end- his parents know and they are coming over for dinner later tonight for dinner and Ilya is there and his boyfriend? And Shane like. Is kinda so happy and tired and confused and feels out of himself- buzzy and wired and shivery and he like. Doesn’t know what do with himself.
So he starts tidying a little, folding his and Ilya’s towels from earlier like on auto pilot and then Ilya’s chin is on his shoulders and his hands are on hips, squeezing and pulling him back into his warm tall frame.
“Shane” he mutters and Shane nods, and then his hands are taking the towel out of his hands. He’s placing the towel back down on the back of the couch and his hand is sliding up the front of Shane’s shirt, rubbing slow over his stomach. “Shane” he says again, and his lips are soft, a gentle brushing kids over Shane’s shoulder through the linen of his shirt and-
It makes tears prick behind Shane’s eyes, a lump in his throat. It’s stupid. He’s so- things are good? But maybe also big and scary and he loves, he loves Ilya so much- loves his parents so much and. He thinks of high school Shane, for some reason- a flash of himself watching his friends before prom, dates on their arm, parents cooing over them taking photos. Thinks of fearing (knowing), his own date on his arm, in his chest in his belly that it wasn’t for him.
He thinks of middle school Shane who didn’t want to play kiss chasey, who didn’t want to hold a girls hand. He thinks of an ache he carried so deep for so long and he thinks of his mother’s apology, of his dad filling Ilya’s glass again. He feels like he’s made of paper and been left out in the rain. Weak. He got something he wanted so desperately, to introduce his parents to a man he loves- something he never really thought he could ever have. He has a boyfriend. Ilya Rozanov is his boyfriend.
Shane swallows hard and shivers when Ilya’s arms slide tight around him, pull him back into his chest.
“Boyfriend huh?” Shane says and his voice is shimmery and Ilya is manhandling him around in his arms till they are face to face, foreheads pressed together. “Boyfriend” Ilya says back.
Shane nods, swallows and then the tears are pushing past his lash line, down over his cheeks. He has a boyfriend. He likes him so stupid much. He’d of played kiss chasey if he was chasing after Ilya. He’d of taken Ilya to prom and been embarrassed but over joyed at his parents fussing over them, taking photos- if he’d been brave enough back then. Shane shivers and Ilya is quiet, brushing Shane’s tears away with his mouth, his hand scuffing the back of his neck, massaging with a firm grip that makes Shane’s eyelids droop.
Shane draws a long shivering deep breath in, a few more tears fall and Ilya’s hand is on Shane’s back, hand open and rubbing slow and long in figure eights between his shoulder blades, a pushing pressure that makes Shane’s stomach twist, his shoulders drop from where he’d been pushing them up by his ears.
“Oh Shane” Ilya whisperers
Shane squeezes his eyes shut tightly, presses his lips together and his knees feel weak. He doesn’t think about it, the way his body slackens, tilts forward into the heat of Ilya, presses his forehead to Ilya’s shoulder and rubs his face into the fabric. He smells like Ilya and the sheets at the cottage and like spaghetti and Shane feels starving for him. Shane doesn’t realise he’s sinking to his knees till Ilya’s hands are catching him under his armpits, pulling him in.
Shane lets out a low whimper, he wants- he doesn’t know. He wants to be- he wants Ilya, be wants to be Ilya’s. He. Shane makes another noise of frustration, and Ilya is nodding, nodding, kissing at Shane’s jaw.
“I know malysh one second Da?” Ilya says and then with a few stumbling steps Ilya is on the couch and Shane is in his lap and Ilya’s hands are soothing up and down Shane’s back but that’s not what Shane wants. Shane leans down, presses his face to Ilya’s neck, breaths in and draws his face down Ilya’s body, over the fabric of his stupid Boston tshirt, knee walks back until he’s sliding off the couch, to his knees between Ilya’s legs and he’s pushing his face into Ilya’s lap. His hands are flat on Ilya’s thighs and it finally feels like the world has thankfully gotten smaller.
He takes long deep breaths, the world dark where his face is pressed into the soft fabric of Ilya’s shorts. The wooden floor is firm under him, and Ilya’s hand finds the back of Shane’s neck and yes. yes. His mind is going soft focused. The smell of Ilya the feel of him, the knowledge of being safe here, held here- of having something to do- to be good. Be here and still.
Shane is moving his cheek in long slow drags, eyes closed- breathing deep and slow, breaths steadying as Ilya’s hand leaves the back of his neck, moves from the top of his head down over his hair and to his neck. He does it again, and again, and again and Shane all but goes loose, warm. His fingers curl into Ilya’s shorts, thumbs rub at the fabric and Shane finds the shape of Ilya’s cock, half hard in the fabric under his cheek and rests his against it, slightly parted as he breaths slow. He doesn’t think- he doesn’t want more than this, not yet- he just he wants. This. To be kept. To feel safe, sure.
“It’s okay, malysh, you’re okay you’re good right here” Ilya’s words wash over him like an afternoon tide and then he goes boneless, feels so heavy he could melt into the floor. Ilya pets pets pets at the back of his head and Shane just exists there, right there, Ilya’s, until his knees start going numb. Ilya’s hands are all over his head, face, brushing at his cheeks, his nose, his mouth, his eyelids his hairline. Ilya rubs between his shoulder blades after a stretch of time shane couldn’t define, but he blinks at the new pressure and the room is darker than before.
“Enough, my Shane, your knees” Ilya is cooing and Shane is nodding because Ilya knows and Ilya is his and he is Ilya’s. He lets Ilya pull him up into his lap and his toes tingle as blood rushes back through his legs and Ilya is kissing over his face telling him how good he is and Shane blinks back into his center, slowly back into his body, and he’s heavy and loose and feels like he’s played hockey for six hours. He feels ragged and happy. Exhausted. He feels like Ilya’s. He feels shy, maybe a little of what he’d needed, of it not being sex. Of how much he’d needed it.
“Good?” Ilya asks and kisses Shane’s mouth, holds his face in his hand, looks at him like he always has.
“Good” Shane answers and Ilya smiles, nods like it’s simple and kisses Shane in a small peck.
“We shower and get ready for your parents now okay, because I need to show them I’m a very nice boyfriend for their very nice son” Ilya says, voice low and his knuckles brushing up and down over Shane’s lips.
“We have a nice dinner, yes? Just me and your parents, easy” Ilya kisses Shane’s brow.
“Then we go to bed and I show my boyfriend how much I love him, how proud I am of him, how brave I think he is. Yes?” Ilya asks and Shane is nodding, nodding, resting his forehead against Ilya’s mouth. He’s thankful for the instructions, the plan. He can do a plan. Something to follow.
“Okay” Shane rasps, voice thick.
“Okay” Ilya whispers and kisses at his hairline.
“Come on, shower now gross boy” Ilya huffs and swats at Shane’s ass and Shane slaps him back on his side and smiles, he’s wobbly, but he’s good, and he’s got Ilyas there to hold him when his knees get too heavy.
when the vulnerability of missionary sex becomes too much and you go to cover your face with your hands only for him to gently grab your wrists with a single hand as he says, “don’t. please. i need to see you.”
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before the tuna meltdown when ilya says “i’m not done with you” and shane assumes he means sex which yes obviously that’s part of it but he’s also thinking like. we have never watched a movie together so i picked one out. you’ve never fallen asleep with your head on my chest and i was hoping maybe you would. i want to know what your voice sounds like first thing in the morning. i want to know if you steal the blankets. if you sleep on your stomach or your side. if you would wake up hard against my hip and let me kiss you before either of us has brushed our teeth. i have never seen your face in the morning sun. i have never watched you stand barefoot in my kitchen, half-awake, looking around like you’re trying to understand what kind of life i have when you’re not around. i’m not done with you yet because there’s still so much to know.
Shane can't help the smile when he reads the message on his phone. He leans against the kitchen island with his hip, while Ilya is putting away the last few pieces from the dishwasher.
"What is funny?"
"Hm?" Shane looks up, Ilya is studying him.
"Another message from Rose?" Ilya says in a way that Shane realises is meant to sound uninterested, before turning to put a stack of plates where they belong.
"All her messages so far have been about how things are going with you." He says with fond exasperation. They've had this topic twice already.
Ilya closes the dishwasher and mirrors Shanes lean against it, crossing his arms. Shrugs.
"Tell her amazing. I am the best at sex and you can't get enough of me. And that she can talk to you in october."
Shane snorts and shakes his head. I did tell her the first bit. He doesn't add that.
"It wasn’t Rose. It was my dad."
Ilya stands up straighter instantly, arms uncrossing.
"Oh."
"What, no joke how he can't be funny because he's boring?" Shane doesn't fight his smile.
"I like your farther, he drinks good vodka. What did he say?" The serious tone of his voice makes Shane move closer, wrapping his arms around Ilya's middle and squeeze him a little with his next words.
"He said he thinks my boyfriend is a good egg."
Ilya pulls his head back, to look at Shane better in surprise. There's a hestitant smile but he's also frowning.
"Egg?"
The smile on Shane's face grows wide and soft. He nods. "Mhmm."
"Is good thing, yes?"
"Yes." Shane leans in for a short kiss. Just a peck. Then two more because Ilya has this proud little smile on his face now.
"So, they don't hate me for you."
It's said as a statement, but Shane answers it anyway, to make sure Ilya hears it.
"They don't hate you for me." With a single nod.
The following kisses are hindered by the wide grin on Ilya's face.
---
Ilya googles the saying later in bed, with a sleeping Shane beside and half on top of him. The warm feeling that spreads through him when he reads the words makes him press closer to Shane and too giddy to sleep for a while. Repeating the explanation he found in his head on a loop. Shane's dad thinks he's a thoroughly good, kind, and reliable person.
At some point after the cottage but before the public outing TMZ does an article on “Ilya Rozanov’s most high-profile hookups” which is essentially just a list of Instagram models with paparazzi shots and blurry cellphone pics of Ilya at the club. Shane scrolls through it, absolutely seething, because he is Ilya’s most high-profile hookup - maybe not by their metric, which seems to be Instagram followers, but Shane hasn’t heard about a single one of these women, apart from Svetlana whom he wouldn’t have recognised if not for Ilya talking about her. The guys are talking about it in the locker room, as if Ilya’s a legend for getting with all of these supposedly very desirable women (although that is decidedly not the way the guys phrase it) and Shane is absolutely furious because he can’t tell anyone that none of these women got to keep him. He is the only one who’s gotten to call Ilya his. He is the only person Ilya’s been in love with.
Anyway, after the next Boston/Montreal game Ilya shows up to practice genuinely looking like he’s been mauled. His entire body is covered in hickeys and bruises that look suspiciously like bite marks - his neck is basically covered in purpling marks with a fair few centred on his chest but a couple of the bruises trail further down, one on his pubic bone, a couple on his thighs, and the darkest one on his hip, a large circle of clear teeth marks - not only that but his back has been practically scratched to ribbons. Ilya is basically a walking sign spelling out “TAKEN - BACK OFF” and when the gossip of Ilya Rozanov apparently having been locked down by a wild animal reaches the Montreal locker room Shane can’t help the proud little smile that blooms on his face because, yes, that’s his man.
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hollanov on some random vacation, and just as shane's done tipping the bell boy, ilya comes out of the suite's bedroom, looking all serious.
"i have bad news," he says. and because he can already see shane's brain kicking into gear and whirring through every possibility, he quickly follows it up with, "there is only one bed" with as much seriousness as he can muster.
the corner of shane's mouth quirks up ever so slightly and with a very put upon sigh he says, "well. we will just have to make do"
before they fuck their way across the enormous bed and then fall sleep wedged together in the middle
New chapters of After Further Review are up! A collection of ficlets where different characters see the FanMail video for the first time. Spoilers for the Long Game.
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The first couple times it happens, Shane would be absolutely scandalized that Ilya likes to fuck all over the house. Shane, who has only ever jerked off in his bed or in the shower, whose hookups with Ilya have up to this point been primarily hotel-based, would be shocked when Ilya bends him over the nearest surface without hesitation. Right here on the counter where you cook your food? On your couch where your friends will sit, never suspecting you were sucking me off in this very spot? Ilya would not understand this at all, because it’s his house, isn’t it? But for Shane, it would feel thrillingly forbidden to fuck wherever they feel like it, to let their desire for each other take up space. Just one more way Ilya pushes the constraints Shane’s put on his desire open wider and wider.
i do think ilya is very vocal during sex. shane definitely is too (Very) but not when he's getting pounded into infinity and he can barely even form a thought let alone a sentence. when he's getting fucked like that he's just making incoherent noises, breathless little words that make no sense, whining ilya's name, meanwhile ilya is just non stop yapping and babbling. "yeah that feel good baby? yeah you're taking it so good... i know i know there you go...theeere you go.... just take it, just take that big fucking cock... fuck hollander you love it.... yeah? yeah you love it huh? yeah....shhhh...it's okay, i know....i know..."
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