ƨ arah.

He wanted to see Rozanov this weekend. He wanted to be with him, alone, behind closed doors; he was tired of lying to himself about it. HEATED RIVALRY — CH. 16

He is also aware that he is a large man, a hockey player, and any type of violent-looking motion is going to be judged and he'll be called short-tempered or violent.

The violence of hockey helps. Sometimes, he likes getting slammed against the boards or pinned there while fighting for the puck. But that doesn't help him off ice. He has a punching bag, but its not the same. Wrestling with Ilya or Ilya laying on top of him also helps, but it's not perfect.

A couple years into their marriage, he tells this to Ilya. He works hard on sharing these things, that he'd usually worried about being judged for, to his husband. Ilya's already so vulnerable with him that he tries to return the favor as well as he can.

A week after he tells this to Ilya, he walks into their home gym to find Ilya attaching velcro strips to the walls in the corner Shane usually does yoga in, where there is no weights, equipment, or mirrors . There's a stack of huge gymnastic mats next to him, velcro on their edges. There are also boxing gloves on top of the stack.

"If anyone sees," Ilya says without turning around. "They will think this is for boxing. I recently took this up, you see."

Shane swallowed. "What is it actually for?"

Ilya grabbed a large mat, taller than him even, and pressed it against the wall, pulling to test that it's firmly stuck on there.

Ilya then takes a couple steps back and throws himself into the wall.

Shane takes a startled step back. "What are you doing?"

"Didn't hurt at all," Ilya grinned, now sitting on one of the mats on the floor. He bonked the back of his head back against the mat. "Completely safe."

Shane cheeks flushed. "I don't need this."

"Okay," Ilya bonked his head harder. "Its for me, then. Maybe I let you use it sometimes."

"Ilya...," Shane walked over and climbed in Ilya's lap, face in the crook of his neck.

"Shane," Ilya said back, wrapping his hands around him. "You know there is nothing you could do that I would think is weird?"

"This is weird."

"Well," Ilya hummed. "I have had my tongue in your asshole, so this is-"

"Shuddup!" Shane slaps him on the shoulder.

The set up goes unused until a couple weeks later, when Shane is feeling like there are ants under his skin. He tells Ilya he's going to work out in the gym, but based on the blush on his cheeks, Ilya understands what he's saying. Ilya tells him he'll go for a run, recognizing Shane wants privacy to test this out.

When he gets back, all he asks Shane is, "anything hurt?"

But this year he's not in Russia, and he slips into this warm syrupy slumber while Shane pets through his hair (incidentally making a disastrous mess of his curls) and reads his book. When Ilya eventually rouses, with a happy grumble of contentment, nuzzling closer into Shane's stomach, he can feels Shane laughing gently at him almost before he hears it.

"Did you sleep well?" Shane asks, and that sounds warm and syrupy too, and Ilya rolls over so he can smile at Shane and revel in the smile he gets in return.

And then Shane says, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinnertime," and Ilya realises he's been lying here, napping and pinning Shane to the couch and wasting both of their time, for hours, and he jackknifes upright so suddenly that Shane startles back.

"Fuck!" Ilya spits out. "I was--fuck, has been so long. Why didn't you wake me up?" already guilty because Shane had wanted to make some pasta thing that he was weirdly excited about and they'd talked about maybe playing more Chel but now the whole day's been napped away and--Ilya sneaks a look---Shane's book is lying closed on the couch, bookmark set neatly aside, so Shane had finished his book and not even been able to get up to go do something else.

And he's just smiling at Ilya, completely unconcerned that Ilya's been idle and asleep and... and... lazy, all afternoon, just glad Ilya had a good nap.

Shane's frowning in mild confusion at him. "Why?" he says, genuinely not seeing the problem. "You were napping, it was nice. I mean, if I'd needed to pee or something I'd have got up but I was fine." He reaches out and smoothes some of Ilya's hair down. "Oh, the pasta. We can do that tomorrow, we have all that salad from lunch and rolls and there's peaches if we want dessert."

Ilya must have responded somehow because Shane beams at him and says, "Cool, I'll go set the table if you want to go wash your face." He smirks and pokes at Ilya's cheek. "Got a little drool there." And then he smacks a kiss on Ilya's head, gets up, and trots over to the kitchen while Ilya just sits there reeling.