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Ilya Rozanov Imagines ( I’ve added all my Ilya fics on Wattpad, so if you’d like to read more, feel free to check them out! I’ll leave the link here 💗)
You don’t realize how tired you are until you sit down.
One second you’re standing in the kitchen, staring blankly into the fridge like it might offer emotional support. The next, you’re in the chair, hands resting over your stomach, shoulders slumping like someone quietly unplugged you.
You sigh.
From the living room, Ilya looks up immediately. “Why did you make that noise?”
“What noise?”
“That one,” he says, already standing. “The tired one.”
You huff a small laugh. “I didn’t know I had different kinds of sighs.”
“You do,” he replies seriously. “That one means something is wrong.”
He comes into the kitchen and stops in front of you, eyes scanning your face.
“Are you dizzy?” he asks.
“No.”
“Sick?”
“No.”
“In pain?”
“Not really,” you admit. “Just… exhausted. For no reason.”
He frowns. “There is a reason. You are building a human.”
You smile faintly. “That still sounds fake.”
He crouches in front of you, resting his hands lightly on your knees. “How long have you been standing?”
You think. “I don’t know. A while.”
“That is too long,” he decides. “Come.”
“Ilya, I was going to make food,”
“No,” he interrupts. “You were going to sit. I will make food.”
“You always make food.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “Because you are always hungry. Or tired. Or both.”
You laugh softly. “I’m not that bad.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “You cried yesterday because the cereal was gone.”
“…It was the good cereal.”
He stands and holds his hands out. “Up.”
You take them, letting him help you to your feet. He keeps one hand at your back as he guides you to the couch like you’re made of something delicate and irreplaceable.
“Sit,” he says.
You sit.
“Good,” he murmurs, immediately grabbing a blanket and draping it over your legs.
“I’m not cold.”
“You might become cold,” he replies. “Pregnancy is unpredictable.”
He disappears into the kitchen. You hear him moving around, opening cabinets, muttering softly in Russian.
A few minutes later, he returns with a glass of water and a small plate of cut fruit.
“Eat,” he says.
You look up at him. “You’re very bossy.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “But correct.”
You take the plate. “Thank you.”
He sits beside you, close enough that your shoulders touch. His hand finds its way to your stomach automatically, warm and steady.
“How is he?” he asks quietly.
You smile at the tenderness in his voice. “I don’t know. He hasn’t complained.”
“Good,” he murmurs. “He gets that from you.”
You glance at him. “What, the silence?”
“The patience.”
You snort. “I’m not patient.”
He looks at you. “You are growing a person inside your body. That is… extreme patience.”
You eat a piece of fruit. “You’re very dramatic.”
“I am accurate.”
He shifts closer, his hand still resting over your stomach. After a moment, he presses his ear gently against you, like he’s listening for something impossible.
You grin. “He can’t hear you yet.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I am practicing.”
Your chest tightens. “For what?”
“For talking to him without being scared.”
You blink. “You’re scared?”
He doesn’t pretend. “Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Of doing it wrong,” he admits. “Of being… like my father. Of not knowing what he needs. Of not being enough.”
You set the plate aside and turn toward him. “Ilya.”
He lifts his head.
“You already worry about him,” you say softly. “That’s not nothing.”
He exhales. “Worry does not equal good.”
“No,” you agree. “But it usually means you care.”
He watches you for a long moment.
Then he shifts so he’s sitting back, one arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently into his chest. You fit there easily now. Like it’s learned the shape of you.
“I never thought I would want this,” he admits quietly. “A home. A child. You.”
You smile against him. “That’s three things.”
“Yes,” he says. “All terrifying.”
“Good terrifying?”
He nods. “The worst and best kind.”
You rest a hand over his. “You’re going to be a good dad.”
He huffs a small, disbelieving breath. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” you insist. “You’re already careful. And present. And completely incapable of not caring.”
He glances down at you. “You say that like it’s a flaw.”
“It’s not,” you say. “It’s love.”
Something in his expression softens completely at that.
He presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “I love you.”
You smile. “I love you too.”
He moves his hand slightly, spreading his fingers over your stomach. “And I love him.”
Your throat tightens. “He’s very lucky.”
Ilya shakes his head. “No. We are.”
You stay like that for a while. Quiet. Safe. His thumb tracing slow, absent circles over your side.
Eventually, he murmurs, “You should nap.”
You blink. “I just sat down.”
“Yes,” he says. “And now you rest.”
You yawn, betrayed by your own body. “You planned that.”
“Obviously.”
He shifts, pulling the blanket up higher, tucking it around you, careful not to trap you.
“I’ll be right here,” he says. “If you need something.”
“Like what?”
“Water. Food. Another blanket. Reassurance. Emotional support. Everything.”
You smile sleepily. “You’re very thorough.”
“I am a professional.”
You close your eyes, letting your head rest against his chest. His arm tightens slightly around you.
Just before sleep takes you, you hear him whisper, almost too quiet to catch:
“We’ve got you. Both of you.”
And somehow, even before your baby is born, you know he’s telling the truth.
Summary: Shane and Ilya come together to remember what they mean to each other and learn what more they could be.
Pairing: Ilya Rosanov x Shane Hollander
Warnings: Angst. Smut. Blowjobs. Anal fingering. Penetrative, protected anal sex. Bit of fluff - much angst - but the good kind, I think. 😏
Word Count: 2,614
A/N: So, I'm sure I'm like the 8 millionth person to write this fic, but 🤷♀️ I couldn't help it. I absolutely LOVE that in the show we don't see the physically intimate part of the hotel scene in episode 5. From a visual storytelling perspective that was a brilliant choice. And I don't remember if there is a love scene in the book after their conversation. There probably was, but I don't remember it. And even if there is, I still wanted to write my own based on show Shane and Ilya.
This is really from Ilya's POV (as all my Hollonov fics have been so far. At some point I'm sure I'll do something from Shane's POV! I really do love him!) I hope you enjoy this and if you do, please don't forget to comment and/or reblog. It means so much! 🫶
Ilya felt like his heart was bleeding, as though he’d sliced it open to spill out as Shane held him and gently rocked him forward and back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this...not since he was a very small boy, his mother maybe.
Since then he’d laid in the arms of countless beautiful women and given himself over to passion from time to time with equally beautiful men. He’d even managed to lose all sense of time and place with Shane, obliterating truth and reason with his all consuming need for the man currently cradling him in his arms.
But he had never been made to feel like this…been allowed to feel like this, react like this. He felt foolish and weak, and he was terrified that showing this much emotion was going to send Shane running once again.
But no, Shane had started this conversation. Shane was the one who very obviously wanted to dig deeper; he’d apologized for freaking out the last time, and Ilya believed him. Hell, he couldn’t even fault him really. Everything happening between them was terrifying. It was supposed to be nothing but heat and fun, a little dangerous maybe, but never lasting. He was never supposed to feel as though he wanted to crawl into Shane’s skin and never leave.
Shane was never supposed to be his refuge and his safe harbor…and yet, here he was, crying against his shoulder, shuddering slightly, allowing himself to grieve a thousand things he had no control over, and all because he knew, deep down, that Shane wouldn’t let him go.
As his fear and sadness ebbed slightly, Ilya became aware of other things, things he recognized, like the feel of being pressed so tightly to Shane’s chest that he could feel Shane’s heart beating against his own. He remembered the tactile joy of pressing his fingers into the firm muscles in Shane’s back, the warm feeling of Shane’s breath on his neck.
He recognized these things and they made his heart race and his soul slow at the same time.
The scent of Shane’s seaweed shampoo hit his nose and Ilya breathed it in deeply as he pushed his hands up under Shane’s shirt. He let them linger there, kneading his muscles and promising without words to take it no further if Shane didn’t seem interested.
But Shane pulled back slightly so he could once again lean down and kiss Ilya softly. Ilya lifted his hand to cup his jaw and tilt his head slightly so he could press his tongue deep inside his mouth, pulling a needy little moan from Shane’s throat. That moan made Ilya harden; it took almost nothing for Shane to have him panting with need.
He pulled away from Shane’s mouth so he could spread hot kisses down his neck. Shane tugged at his tank top and Ilya pulled away long enough for Shane to get it off over his head. Then he was back nibbling on Shane’s bottom lip as he worked at the buttons on his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders.
Ilya cupped Shane’s pecs with both hands, rubbing his palms against Shane’s sensitive nipples, making him gasp quietly. His dark head dropped back and Ilya knew it was a silent plea for him to kiss the sensitive skin just under the corner of his jaw and just behind his earlobe. Ilya let his lips travel across Shane’s jaw and then nuzzled his nose teasingly in the crook of his neck, mouthing at the skin there.
Shane’s right hand pushed through Ilya’s hair and fisted in his curls, tugging sharply to try and get Ilya to stop teasing. Ilya felt a shock rush through his body, from his scalp to the tips of his toes and he bit into the muscle in Shane’s neck trying to get him to behave. This was the first time he’d had him in his arms for…well, it felt like years, and Ilya wasn’t about to rush things.
With that in mind he stood just enough that he could flip Shane onto his back and lay him out on the bed beneath him. Shane let out a small sound of surprise that made Ilya grin at him. Shane scowled at him, but he couldn’t hide the heat that burned in his big, beautiful, brown eyes.
“Sorry,” Ilya said wickedly, “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Hollander.”
“Fuck you.” Shane said predictably and Ilya just drank in the sight of his chest heaving as he licked his lips and stared back up at Ilya.
God, I missed this so much. Ilya thought.
Shane’s gorgeous, tan skin looked like velvet in the soft lamplight and his freckles decorated his cheeks like spilled cinnamon. He could look at him like this for hours.
Suddenly he had the urge to tell him, he needed Shane to know how precious he was to him, how perfect he was, how irreplaceable. He wanted to tell him those things, but he knew he shouldn't. Instead he just shook his head.
“Fuck, Hollander, I missed you like this.”
Shane’s skin went a little pink under his freckles and the skin on his chest flushed slightly. He bit on his bottom lip for a minute before he spoke quietly.
“Missed you too.”
Ilya reached down for the button on the front of Shane’s shorts and popped it open, slowly pulling down the zipper. He wrapped his fingers around the waistband of his shorts and underwear together and yanked them off in one swift move.
Shane’s cock was mostly hard and leaking slightly and it made Ilya’s mouth run dry just to look at it. Shane dug his heels into the mattress and pushed himself further up the bed, inviting Ilya to climb up too. Ilya covered him completely so he could kiss his way down Shane’s body, starting at the side of his neck, and working his way down over his chest and hard stomach.
As he reached the tip of Shane’s cock where it rested against his lower belly, Ilya squeezed his pec roughly, digging his fingers into the hard muscle there and making Shane grunt with pleasure as he kitten licked his slit and watched his cock twitch. He let his tongue swirl just under the head of Shane’s dick and suddenly Shane’s hands were back in his hair, clenching and unclenching in the curls.
“Please, fuck.” The words were strangled out of Shane’s throat and they made Ilya’s cock harden even more, almost painfully.
Ilya took him in his mouth, but just barely, moving his lips shallowly up and down his dick. Shane let out a truly pathetic whine.
“Rosanov. Stop.” Ilya knew he meant, stop teasing, but he pulled off of him completely.
“Oh, you want me to stop?” He asked innocently.
“Fuck you. Fuck you!” Shane cursed at him as his hips bucked off the mattress. “Fucking do it.”
Ilya couldn’t stop the wicked gleam that came into his eye. “Do what, Hollander? Tell me.”
Shane scowled up at him. For a minute Ilya thought Shane’s pride and need to win would stop him saying what he wanted; he did hate to concede anything.
But slowly Shane’s expression softened and he let his head fall back against the pillows as his hand came up to stroke his dick. His hips thrust up into his hand and Ilya thought he might burst just watching him.
Shane licked his lips and caught Ilya’s eye again. “I need you to suck my dick, I need you to swallow me down your throat, I need your tongue to taste every inch of my skin, I need you to fuck me so hard I see stars. I just fucking need you, Ilya. I need you so fucking much.”
At the sound of his name on Shane’s lips Ilya’s heart started beating triple time and he truly wondered if you could have a heart attack from happiness.
With a deep growl, Ilya pushed down his sweats and underwear before falling forward on the bed to feast on Shane’s cock. He took him all the way in, letting his throat close around the head and making Shane’s hips buck reflexively.
Ilya slung an arm across Shane’s lower belly, keeping him pinned down as he slid up and down relentlessly on his cock. When he could feel the muscles tightening in Shane’s stomach, he pulled off of him with a pop.
Shane groaned in frustration and need. But Ilya was determined that they would come together. He stood up quickly, going to his bag and pulling out condoms and lube. As he went back to the bed, he saw Shane starting to roll over onto his stomach, but Ilya put a hand on his hip to stop him.
“No, I want to watch you. Your beautiful face.”
He dropped the condoms and lube on the side of the bed and took Shane’s face in his hands, leaning down to kiss him deeply. He ran his tongue along the roof of Shane’s mouth, letting it explore all the familiar ridges and bumps that he'd mapped out over the last eight years.
He kissed him over and over and over again. He came up for air briefly and then reached for Shane’s lips again, but Shane turned his head slightly and half laughed, half whined at him.
“Enough, please. Fuck me. I can’t take any more.”
Ilya cupped Shane’s chin and turned his head back towards him so he could stare into his eyes. “Be patient. You owe me kisses, Shane. Don’t be stingy with them now.”
Shane’s eyes glowed, almost black from dim lighting and exploded pupils. “Who taught you what stingy means?” He asked and Ilya was sure he heard tears clogging his throat.
“I have a fucking dictionary, Hollander.” Ilya said with an eye roll and pinch to his hip.
Shane’s smile was slow and sweet. “Nope, no going back now…say it again.”
Ilya knew exactly what he was talking about and he leaned down to press his lips to Shane’s ever so lightly. Then he skimmed his lips along his cheek bone to his ear, his breath hissing out as he whispered.
“Shane.”
His hand rested against Shane’s neck and he could feel his pulse pick up against his palm as he said his name.
Shane dragged his hand down Ilya’s back and turned his face so he could press soft kisses across the round part of Ilya’s shoulder. Then he dragged his lips up the side of his neck to his ear and whispered back.
“Ilya.”
It was more than Ilya could take and he suddenly needed to be buried inside Shane, to join them together so closely that they couldn’t ever be separated again.
He was impatient, but he wouldn’t risk hurting Shane, so he began to work him open slowly, slathering on lube and pressing his fingers into him gently. He took his time, but soon he was fucking him with two fingers, running his fingertips over his prostate again and again. Finally Shane arched his back and smacked at Ilya’s bicep.
“I’m good, it’s good. Please, fuck, fuck…”
Ilya needed to be sure, so he slipped on the condom quickly and then paused at Shane’s entrance. “Are you sure you’re okay, moy dorogoy?”
Shane nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, I’m so good, so good.” He muttered.
Nevertheless, Ilya slid in slowly, holding his breath as he tried to keep himself in check. Shane pressed his head back into the pillows and dug his blunt fingernails into Ilya’s ass as he tried to push him deeper still.
Ilya let out the breath and the moan that he’d been holding in as he bottomed out and buried his face in Shane’s neck. He tried to move slowly, wanting to make it all last, but Shane was far too impatient for that and his insistent pleas and urging eventually had Ilya slamming into him like a freight train, rocking the bed and pushing Shane further up the pillows.
Ilya could feel himself about to cum, but he still wanted them to come together. So, he spit in his hand and reached down to stroke Shane’s cock with long, firm strokes and less than a minute later Shane clapped a hand over his own mouth as he shouted out his release, spurting over Ilya’s hand at the same moment that Ilya gave a quick shout of bliss and came into the condom.
Ilya couldn’t help it, he just fell forward, fully on top of Shane, probably crushing him slightly and definitely covering them both in the warm sticky seed that was spread across Shane’s stomach and chest.
He didn’t care, he would stay exactly like this until Shane told him to move. They both fell asleep for a few minutes, utterly and completely replete.
When they woke up they were cold and the sticky mess had dried into a crusty mess and Shane was officially grossed out.
Ilya chuckled as he pulled back and then pulled out of him, carefully holding the condom and then tossing it away. He pulled Shane to his feet and led them both into the shower. They washed each other under the warm spray before Shane sank to his knees on the tiled shower floor and began sucking Ilya’s dick.
Ilya was sure he had nothing left in him, but Shane’s persistent sucking and relentless pursuit of Ilya’s pleasure soon had him cupping the back of Shane’s head and pressing his face into the curls at the base of his cock as he spilled down his throat.
He felt boneless as he left the shower with Shane, but he managed to stand on his own briefly while Shane stripped away the top sheet on the bed and tossed it onto the floor. Then they both tumbled down next to each other to sleep for several hours.
When they awoke the clock beside the bed read four o’clock and they both knew they’d have to separate. Without discussing it, they clung to each other for another half an hour, sharing soft kisses and long embraces.
Finally Shane pulled himself from the bed and got dressed. They mentioned meeting in Boston in two weeks, and both nodded as though two weeks was nothing. Ilya knew it really wasn’t that big a deal, they’d gone far longer without seeing each other.
But something had fundamentally shifted between them, they both knew it, and it was beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
As Shane walked to the door Ilya laid on his side watching him. Shane looked back at him and Ilya realized he was smiling at him and he couldn’t imagine what his face was saying.
Obviously Shane couldn’t interpret the look either because he smiled back and spoke softly.
“What?”
Ilya wanted to say the three words that were forbidden to them. He wanted to tell Shane that he didn’t want him to go. He wanted to tell him to stay the whole night, fuck the daylight and everything it would reveal about them. He just wanted Shane to come back into the bed so he could press against him tightly and imprint the feel of his skin on his soul.
But obviously, he couldn’t say any of that. So, he simply shook his head very gently. “Nothing.” He said mysteriously, and then there was a beat pause. “Goodnight, Shane.”
Shane looked away and gave a soft, slightly shy chuckle before he turned back and nodded slightly. “Goodnight, Ilya.”
And then he was gone and Ilya was left with only the scent of Shane on his pillow and the exciting and terrifying knowledge that the world had tilted and it might never tilt back.
Stupid hollnov fic based on @hrgifs post about Shane taking off his fitbit during sex.
A guide on heart rate zones here, but your Z5 would be pushing yourself at 100% effort, and your LT is like 80%, something you can maintain for a longer period but is tiring exertion.
They’re cuddling after a round of really great afternoon sex when Ilya’s hands trail over Shane’s wrist and the band of his watch. “Fuck, seriously?” Shane groans, looking at his wrist. Not again.
“What?” Ilya asks.
Shane shakes his head, scrubbing his hands over his face. “It’s fine,” he mutters. Even though it’s not fine. Even though he fucked it up again—
“Shane.”
Ilya’s fingers curl gently over his own, and Shane keeps his eyes squeezed shut. “Just my watch,” he mumbles. “It’s stupid.”
“Okay… what happened?”
Shane sighs, their hands falling away. He looks up at Ilya’s concerned face with rosy cheeks. This is embarrassing, he knows it’s stupid, he just can’t believe he forgot again—
“Promise you won’t laugh.”
“Okay,” Ilya says. “You are fine? Not hurt?”
“No no,” Shane says. “Nothing like that. Um… I forgot to take my watch off again? So now all my stats for the week are fucked.”
Shane can see the moment what he’s said computes. He can see it, because Ilya’s face does that huge smile-all-the-way-to-his-eyes thing.
“Ilya,” he says, biting back a smile, himself.
“Not laughing,” Ilya insists, trying and failing to press his lips together. He puts a hand over his own mouth, instead.
“Today was supposed to be a Z2 day!” Shane tries to explain, trying very, very hard not to laugh. “This totally fucked my week.”
“Mm, fucked your week, yes.”
“Shut up,” Shane grins. He turns to the nightstand and grabs his phone, opening the app. God, this is so fucking annoying; his phone is gonna scream at him about rest and not fucking pushing himself until the end of time.
Ilya plucks the device from Shane’s hands, smirking at his squawk of protest. “Let’s see…” he trails off. “Hm, mostly 180, hitting 195—this is your Z5 yes?”
Shane snorts. “Uh, no, sorry. 180 is at the lower end of my LT and 195 is only just in my Z5.”
“Liar.”
“Check my other stats,” Shane says simply, settling back more comfortably in bed. He watches Ilya scroll, his frown becoming more pronounced the longer he looks. He’s actually pissed, Shane realizes as Ilya quickly taps through to something else, reading intently. It’s… kind of stupidly cute? He kind of looks like an angry hedgehog. “Looks like you’ll have to work a little harder,” Shane sighs. “Z5 when I come doesn’t count.”
“Says who?” Ilya demands. “And watch isn’t accurate. It records smaller numbers all the time.”
This is really bothering him, Shane thinks, almost giddy. He grins uncontrollably. “I mean, this watch usually overshoots and gives me a higher rate, but.” Shane shrugs in a way he hopes comes off unbothered. “Also, coming literally can’t count. That’s like, just the end result of all the build up and shit. Any major spike is probably 60% emotional at least—”
“And you are saying that, what, I did not work hard to give you those emotions?” Ilya demands.
“No…” Shane says slowly. “But that’s not a physiological metric, that’s an emotional response.”
“I have no idea what this word means.”
“Like something that your physical body does that can be measured.”
“That’s bullshit,” Ilya says. “All sex has influence from emotions. Even when there is no emotions, that is an emotion. And when I fuck you so good you hit your Z5 it fucking counts!”
“I mean, technically…” Shane trails off, glancing at Ilya.
“You are enjoying this,” Ilya realizes.
“What? No.”
Ilya nods to himself. Drops the phone in the sheets. “Okay,” he says. “Fine, you think I need to work harder? Start a new workout.”
“What?” Shane laughs.
Ilya rolls his shoulders. “Start it. I will give you the most intense orgasm of your life, it will break the stupid fucking watch, you will not say anything anymore.”
Shane stares at him.
“You are ready for me to destroy you?” Ilya asks.
“Uh…”
“Shane.”
Right. Shane scrambles to press the right combination of buttons on the watch, nodding eagerly as Ilya drapes himself over his body, pressing kisses to his collarbones and neck. “You ready?” Ilya teases. “You have post-fuck snacks and smoothie?”
“Won’t need them,” Shane says, shaky, as Ilya sucks his earlobe into his mouth and bites. He hears his chuckle and shivers.
***
Shane hangs half off the bed, panting and bright red and reaching for Ilya as he pulls himself, exhausted, into his arms.
“See?” Ilya says breathlessly, patting Shane’s cheek. “No problem. I am a sex god.”
“And a personal trainer, apparently. Jesus fuck.”
“Mm.”
…Shane does need post-fuck snacks and a smoothie. And his heart rate ends up at the higher end of his LT and dips into his Z5—though Shane is still not convinced that all that edging counted.
But whatever, that’s a conversation for another day.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warnings: blow job and our favorite boys don’t talk to each other.
this is that one shower scene from the beginning of episode 4. iykyk. kinda sad we don’t get a whole scene of that. but this is kinda what i imagine.
anyways, not proof read.
would love feedback! also requests for anything else would be cool!
happy reading you horny fucks
————————————
Ilya and Shane lay in bed, still naked, still dirty, but not moving. The Russian was lying back against the tan boy, his head on his chest, but his body angled away. Shane had his arm resting across Ilya’s chest, occasionally drawing a pattern or lightly tapping.
The two were quiet, unwilling to break this moment. It was rare for them to have time like this, neither have to leave till the day after next.
But still Shane wouldn’t stay over.
And Ilya would never ask.
Sometimes Ilya wished he could. Wished his voice was strong enough to speak words he’d never say. Wished he could beg Shane to just stay, for one night. But he wouldn’t, he couldn’t. That would make this something more than it was.
Just sex.
That’s all this was.
Mind-numbing, toe-curling sex. Sex that left Shane thinking about Ilya months on end. Sex that left Shane buying a whole building in Montreal so they could meet discreetly. Sex that left Shane making excuses for not going out with the guys after a game.
Shane shifted his legs, looking over at the clock. He almost didn’t want to say it. Maybe if he just stayed quiet, he wouldn’t have to leave. But Ilya would ask him to at some point, he was sure, so he forced the words out of his mouth.
“I need to leave soon,” He said oh so quietly.
Ilya nodded slightly, but didn’t move, “You want to shower?”
Shane nodded, though Ilya couldn’t see, “If that’s okay, yes.”
The blond let out a small snort, forcing himself to rest on his elbow now, “Of course. Couldn’t let you leave all dirty. Might have panic attack.”
Shane rolled his eyes, “Fuck off, Rozanov.”
Ilya got closer, “Mmm, I think you like,”
Shane’s cheeks reddened at the proximity, eyes fluttering down to Rozanov’s lips, and stayed there as he responded, “Shut up,” His voice was quieter than he meant.
A smirk adorned Ilya’s face before he leaned closer, letting their lips connect just enough.
He pulled away, sitting himself up, “Shower,” The Russian accent almost demanded.
Shane sat up, though his legs felt like jello from the previous bliss he had been under not even an hour ago. Cheeks reddening at the thought, he shook his head, following Ilya toward the shower. Shane hadn’t registered that Ilya was going to shower as well. Together. With him.
That was a recipe for disaster.
And disaster, he means another blissful moment that he would think about for months on end.
Ilya leaned into the shower, turning it on. He kept his hand under the water, waiting for the warmth to come. Once satisfied, he stepped in.
“Are you coming, Hollander?” Ilya asked, making eye contact through the glass.
Ilya’s eyes were darker, and an almost sinister smirk was on his face. It made butterflies rush in Shane’s stomach, and his dick twitched in slight arousal.
Shane hadn’t realized he was still in the doorway of the bathroom, but he could feel his neck burn. He suddenly wanted to be as close to the other man as possible.
He made big steps across the bathroom, probably looking too eager but he didn’t care. The second the shower door closed behind him, Ilya’s tongue was in his mouth, and Shane accepted it greedily.
Shane’s tan hands ran through the blonds curls, across his chest, his ribs. One of Ilya’s hands was on Shane’s hip, pulling him tighter, closer. The other cupping Shane’s face. Shane let out an almost embarrassing groan, but Ilya’s lips ate the sound unforgivingly.
Shane pushed closer, though they seemed impossibly close, both under the stream of warm water. Ilya flipped him around, using the hand on his hip to push him back into the corner of the shower.
Goosebumps ran down Shane’s body at the cold tile, but then Ilya was kissing his neck and he didn’t care anymore.
“Roz,” He moaned, unapologetically.
Ilya hummed against his neck before slowly lowering himself. He kissed along Shane’s chest, letting his tongue swipe out across his nipple. The shudder through Shane’s body made the awkward stance worth it.
Ilya was on his knees, the tile digging sharply but he did not care.
“Oh god,” Shane had moaned out, hands flying into the blond curls.
Ilya took Shane’s dick in his hand, which was now completely rock hard. He gave a small, lazy stroke.
“I knew you were slut, still so horny even after I fucked you so good.”
Shane couldn’t decided if he wanted to throw his head back or watch as Ilya took his dick in his mouth. He decided he needed to watch, to see. Ilya’s knee burned but the sounds Shane made was worth the hurt.
“Oh, fuck,” The words tumbled before he could try to stop them, “Jesus, Rozanov.”
Ilya hummed and Shane let his head fall back against the wall, the sound of the water swallowing his loud moan.
Shane’s right arm lifted, bracing against the wall, while the other still tightly gripped the blond curls. He looked down again, seeing Ilya already looking up at him, watching his face.
“God, oh, please,” Shane begged though he wasn’t sure what for.
Ilya hummed again.
“Fuck, fuck,” Shane moaned, his stomach fluttering, “Shit, I’m gonna-” He cut himself off with a moan, “Fuck, Rozanov. I’m-”
Ilya suctioned his mouth, taking all of Shane into his throat.
Shane’s body collapsed into it, his moans breathless and frantic as he came down Ilya’s throat. His hand held Ilya’s head in place, though Ilya was not going anywhere.
Shane relaxed slightly, allowing Ilya to stand, but he was still panting.
Ilya smirked, “Was good, yes Hollander?”
Shane, still trying to catch his breath, opened his eyes, “Fuck off.”
They finished the shower quickly. Shane had offered to suck of Ilya, though he declined, even though it was painfully obvious how hard he was. Shane took it as Ilya’s way of telling him to leave. That he had over stayed his welcome.
Anxiety sat heavy on Shane’s chest as he got dressed. As he slipped on his shoes. AS he slipped his phone into his pocket.
Ilya had walked him to the door.
Shane scratched the back of his neck, “I guess I’ll see you next time.”
Ilya smirked, loving how flustered he made Shane, “Yes. You will.”
Shane was almost surprised when Ilya kissed him again. It wasn’t soft, or gentle, or sweet. It was rough and demanding. It made Shane wonder if they would go for round three. He already showered, but he would mind.
But they didn’t.
And Ilya pulled away.
They said a quick farwell.
And Shane walked to his room, almost sad their night was over.
His phone dinged. A text from Rozanov.
See you in Boston ;)
Shane had already started counting down the moment he left Ilya’s room.
he was a skater boy, he said, "see you later, boy". he wasn't good enough for him. || high school hollanov au with skater!ilya and cute nerd!shane - just imagine shane being the good guy, always ready for classes, homework always done and there is ilya - the troublemaker (oh and he's a tease)... "what's up nerd?" oh and that smirk--- it's so obvious ilya wants to take shane home after school---
Fic: my drug is my baby (Heated Rivalry, Shane x Ilya, E)
1300 words; E for sexual content; post-The Long Game/post-canon; AO3 is still down time to post cock worship on Tumblr
Shane Hollander is some kind of freak.
He's obsessed with Ilya Rozanov, and especially with Ilya Roznov's dick. It's almost a relief. He's felt strange his whole life. Now at least he knows why.
Shane has gathered from his research (porn) that a lot of gay men are obsessed with dicks. They crave dicks inside them, any hole, the way he does with Ilya's. They beg the way he does: he wants to watch Ilya cum, to feel the hot splash of it on his skin, to feel it dripping out of him after Ilya fucks him. Sometimes Shane feels a little uncomfortable to have so much in common with the twinky little bottoms in the videos he watches, because whatever he is, he's not a skinny blonde boy, but they seem to be enjoying themselves with their variety of big strong tops. Anyway, he doesn't watch it that much. He's just not as horny as a lot of guys, he guesses. Except when it comes to Ilya.
For Shane, it's just Ilya. He wants Ilya to bend him over, to take control, to put his dick all over Shane. He wants Ilya to rub his dick between Shane's pecs and between Shane's asscheeks. He wants Ilya to fuck into the space between Shane's thighs. Hell, Ilya could fuck his armpit and it would probably be hot. And Shane would get to watch from so close: Ilya's shaft, glossy with lube, and the rosy swollen head that's always so slick under Shane's tongue, thrusting over and over into a space Shane has never shared with anyone since he was old enough to bathe himself. Yeah. Armpit sex might be on the table. Then Ilya could cum on Shane's face.
He's found other men attractive, sure. Even hooked up with a few, in the long droughts of his and Ilya's strange relationship, and it was fine. But he's never been cock-hungry for anyone else the way he is for Ilya. He wants Ilya's dick all the time, even if it's just soft under his hand as they lie in bed together. Even the shape his tongue makes around Ilya's name reminds him of Ilya's dick.
God, from the very beginning, he's fucking loved Ilya's dick: he remembers the way his fucking mouth watered in the gym after the draft, just from seeing the bulge in Ilya's shorts. And then in the shower after they filmed that commercial, Ilya's fingers curling around his own dick as Shane tried not to drool. When Ilya came to his hotel room for the first time, Shane couldn't wait to get his mouth around Ilya's dick. He was fucking shivering, on his knees, fumbling Ilya's jeans and underwear down. No foreplay, just an open mouth, like he'd been starving for years. He guesses in a way he had been. Ilya's dick filled him up. When Ilya left, Shane was satisfied and still so fucking hungry for it.
He fucking dreamed about Ilya's dick when they were apart. His first real fantasies were all about Ilya. When he's upset, Ilya's dick soothes him. It's not just the feel of it: there's something about the smell of it. It's so fucking earthy. Shane can't get enough of it. He breathes Ilya in like smelling salts or an inhaler, something that brings him back to himself.
He remembers Vegas, when Ilya won MVP, the way he couldn't stop himself crawling over the bed to rub his face against Ilya's bulge. The shape of it under his lips, the feel of it against his face, and God, the fucking scent of it. It goes straight to Shane's soul by way of his libido. He remembers crouching in front of Ilya at the cottage too, his arms wrapped around Ilya's hips and his face pressed against the front of Ilya's swim trunks. Other people drink when they need courage. Shane huffs Ilya's dick.
Shane has this fantasy of taking Ilya's gear off piece by piece after a big win. It will never happen this way, but the idea of it turns him on so much. He wants to strip Ilya slowly, so slowly, while Ilya stands there with victory in his eyes and the curl of his arrogant mouth. He wants to take Ilya's cup off and bury his face in Ilya's crotch. God, Ilya would fucking reek, like some wild animal. Shane gets rock-hard just thinking about it. He wants Ilya's scent smeared over his face and chin and hands and chest. He can almost taste the hot mix of sweat and pre-cum. He would take Ilya's cock so deep into his throat, working Ilya until Ilya was so close he was ready to explode, and then let Ilya finish on his own stomach while Shane lapped up every drop.
Unfortunately, after every big win, they have to share the locker room with the rest of the team, so the closest Shane can get is catching Ilya sweaty after a run, but that's still good. He falls to his knees in the garage and tugs Ilya's shorts down, works back Ilya's foreskin, and sucks Ilya hard while Ilya swears and holds onto the mirror of the car. Shane works the salt out of every crease and crevice, swirling his tongue around the head of Ilya's dick. Ilya works a hand into Shane's hair and pulls lightly to make Shane hum. Shane just takes Ilya deeper, like he could swallow Ilya whole. Ilya groans and thrusts into Shane's mouth, faster and faster while Shane takes it. He digs his fingers into Ilya's thighs, encouraging Ilya.
"Fuck, Shane, I'm...!" Ilya says, and his body shakes.
Shane smirks with his mouth full. He swallows Ilya's cum and tucks Ilya back into his shorts.
"What was that?" Ilya asks when Shane is getting up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I just really like your dick," Shane says.
"Ah, okay," Ilya says. "I mean, I maybe guessed it."
"The rest of you is good too," Shane says.
"But my dick is the best part." Ilya does that thing with his mouth that he does when he's making a joke. "Probably I will let you have it again later."
"Please," Shane says, and he can't keep the desire out of his voice. He just fucking had Ilya's dick in his mouth and he still wants more.
Ilya grabs Shane's face in one hand and pulls him close. "You can't get enough, eh, my Shanya?"
"I can't," Shane says honestly.
"What if everyone knew you were such a greedy little slut, mm?" Ilya asks.
"I've seen the internet," Shane says. "They have some thoughts about me being a greedy little slut."
"Ah, true." Ilya nods. "Some of them have definitely guessed."
"Well, they've seen you," Shane says. "They're just jealous they don't get to beg for it."
"They could beg if they wanted," Ilya teases. "And I would say no thank you, I am saving myself for my husband. Unless they were really, really hot, then maybe I would share."
Shane shakes his head. He makes a cage for Ilya's soft dick with his fingers. "That's mine."
"Okay, okay," Ilya says. He picks up Shane's hand, kisses it, and lays it over his heart. "This also is yours, yes?"
"Yes," Shane agrees. "All mine." He leans in and kisses Ilya.
"You taste all sweaty," Ilya complains, but he kisses Shane back. He puts an arm around Shane's waist and pulls him close. "Come, let's shower. We can wash this dirty mouth out. Plus if I make you cum there, no clean up after."
Shane lets Ilya guide him into the house and lead him up the stairs. He licks the last traces of Ilya off his lips. It tastes like winning.
Pairing: Shane Hollander x Ilya Rozanov | 5.5k words
Tags: Orgasm Edging, Slight Feminization, Mentions of Subspace, Men Crying, Crying During Sex, Top Ilya Rozanov, Bottom Shane Hollander, Anal Fingering, Handjobs
Summary: During a makeout session, Shane jokingly calls Ilya "insatiable". It only makes sense that Ilya ends up edging Shane for an hour just to prove a point.
“Maybe I should say ‘thank you’, moya lyubov, for teaching me this word, ‘insatiable’. I did not know the best word to describe you before, but now I do.”
Shane was nothing if not competitive. “You’re the one who usually instigates all of our bedroom activities, anyways. I’d call that pretty insatiable.” The Canadian had eventually squeaked out. Fueled by the condescending tone Ilya had used plus the need to win the argument, Shane made perhaps the biggest mistake of his life and kept running his mouth.
“Besides, I feel like you’re always more desperate to cum than I am.”
“Is that what you think?” Ilya said, a knowing tone lacing his words. Shane swallowed hard. The challenge in his voice and eyes was apparent, and Shane was scared of what evil (amazing) and cruel (sexy) ideas were going through the other man’s head.
Shane was, as it turned out, correct to be scared of Ilya’s ideas.
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Hours. They’ve been at this for hours.
Well not actually, but it sure as hell felt like it.
Shane surely classifies as a victim for what he’s gone through in the last 45 minutes. A victim to Ilya’s mind-numbingly pleasurable, yet extremely cruel, ministrations. I’m gonna call the fucking cops if this asshole doesn’t let me cum within the next 5 minutes, Shane thought to himself. He normally prided himself as a reasonable and down-to-earth person, but all of that went out the window the second Ilya started edging him. Now, Shane’s thoughts were irrational and sounded whiny even in his own head.
It all started about an hour ago when Shane and Ilya had been casually kissing on the couch. It was sweet, domestic, even. Neither man had anywhere to be that night, no practices or plans to go out with teammates. They had been savoring the rare night of freedom they both had by ordering takeout from their favorite restaurant and bingeing that one show that had been on their ‘to watch’ list for ages. It had devolved into the slow, passionate kissing that they tended to find themselves caught up in when they had free time. Both boys craved the closeness and comfort it provided.
Of course, it didn’t stay slow and sweet for too long.
After some time, Ilya had dragged Shane onto his lap, grabbing the back of the shorter man’s neck to pull him into the kiss harder. Shane had let out a noise that walked the line between being a sigh and a soft moan. Encouraged by the noise, Ilya used his other hand to move along the outer part of Shane’s thigh and under the leg of his shorts. The hand quickly moved to the underwear-covered curve of Shane’s ass.
Shane let out a soft laugh and smiled into Ilya’s mouth as a result. “You’re insatiable, you know that? Can’t even kiss your boyfriend for more than 10 minutes without quite literally trying to get into his pants.” Nevermind that Shane had been silently begging Ilya to touch his already-hardening cock.
Ilya gazed at Shane with a questioning look. “What is this word, ‘insatiable’?”
“It means that you’re never satisfied, always hungry for more when it comes to sex.”
Shane knew he was perhaps the biggest hypocrite ever, considering half of the time the roles were reversed in these situations. Ilya wasn’t oblivious to this fact either. Ilya also was not someone that let Shane get away with anything ever.
Ilya pulled away from his boyfriend’s mouth to look him in the eyes with his eyebrows raised. “Ah, so if I check right now, you are telling me your cock will not be as hard as rock?”
Shane’s cheeks were tinged with red at the accusation.
“Well n-no — I mean yes! Of course I’m gonna be—”
Ilya didn’t let him finish. “You are trying to tell me—Sex God Ilya Rozanov—who has been fucking you for 10 years, that if I roll your hips forward I will not feel you poking my stomach?”
Shane barked out a laugh at Ilya calling himself a ‘sex god’. This man was ridiculous. “What even constitutes someone as being a ‘sex god’? Geez, you are so—”
Once again, Shane was interrupted. “Shane Hollander—super submissive and terrible liar—is trying to tell me, Ilya Rozanov, the sex expert and sex icon—”
Shane chuckled and rolled his eyes. He went to playfully smack Ilya in the shoulder, but the man under him quickly grabbed his wrist and spun them so Shane’s back was now on the couch, Ilya’s large frame pressing into him. Any laughs immediately died in Shane’s throat.
Ilya, with eyes serious and half lidded, was inches from Shane’s face.
The Russian moved to softly kiss the corner of Shane’s mouth, kissing his way down to Shane’s jaw and neck, sucking on the man’s sensitive spots he knows like the back of his hand. Ilya eventually moved to kiss and suck on Shane’s earlobe as Shane’s eyes closed and he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touches.
He sucked in a sharp, surprised breath as his hips quickly jerked up and into Ilya’s hand that was now gripping the shorter man’s erection. The hand began to move, rubbing along the hard outline begging to be freed from the confines of Shane’s shorts.
Ilya’s mouth, still by Shane’s ear, began whispering in a low voice. “You lied to me, Hollander. You lied to me, even though the truth was very obvious.”
Shane gently shook his head, trying to silently communicate with Ilya that No, technically I didn’t lie. I tried to correct myself, but you cut me off when you were rambling about being some kind of sex god. It was in vain, however, because Ilya truly did not give a fuck what Shane would have said anyway.
“You call me insatiable just because I want to fuck my hot and famous hockey player boyfriend,” Ilya’s hand had yet to stop stroking Shane’s cock through his shorts, which made it very difficult to pay attention to what was being spoken into his ear. “But that is not ridiculous thing to want, no? It seems like obvious choice. Especially when my hot and famous hockey player boyfriend is squirming in my lap and looking at me with eyes that are saying oh please, Mr. Rozanov, please let me suck your dick, I need it so bad. ”
Shane’s cheeks were surely as red as tomatoes after that. He also didn’t need a mirror to confirm the fact that his eyes were most definitely not saying that.
Ilya was not done tormenting him. “Maybe I should say ‘thank you’, moya lyubov, for teaching me this word, ‘insatiable’. I did not know the best word to describe you before, but now I do.”
Shane sputtered out a few sounds that sounded like the start of different sentences before eventually landing on one that stuck. “I am not insatiable! I have a very normal and healthy sex drive, thank you very much.”
He could feel Ilya smirking against the side of his face. “No? You do not think you are?” Shane had shaken his head, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking and making it obvious what he actually believed the answer was.
Ilya made a disbelieving hmm sound in response to Shane’s silent communication, and once again began pressing open mouth kisses along his neck. He could tell Ilya believed he had won this little argument, and Shane was nothing if not competitive.
“You’re the one who usually instigates all of our bedroom activities, anyways. I’d call that pretty insatiable.” The Canadian had eventually squeaked out.
Fueled by the condescending tone Ilya had used plus the need to win the argument, Shane made perhaps the biggest mistake of his life and kept running his mouth.
“Besides, I feel like you’re always more desperate to cum than I am.”
This caused Ilya to freeze, ceasing all movements. Immediately, Shane regretted what he said. Not only because he knew it would lead to unfavorable consequences, but also because it’s 100% not true. In the bedroom, Ilya is of course eager to finish, but Shane is on a different level—begging, whining, crying, saying anything the other man wants if it means Rozanov will get him there that much faster. He knows this is true, but he went and said some bullshit anyway.
The Russian pulled his head back from where it had been tucked into Shane’s neck, a devious smile gracing his lips.
“Is that what you think?” Ilya said, a knowing tone lacing his words. Shane swallowed hard.
No, no, no. Of course not. “Of course I do.” His voice wavered, conveying to the man on top of him how confident he actually felt.
Ilya raised his brows in mock surprise and only said, “Interesting”. The challenge in his voice and eyes was apparent, and Shane was scared of what evil (amazing) and cruel (sexy) ideas were going through the other man’s head.
Shane was, as it turned out, correct to be scared of Ilya’s ideas.
“Please!” Shane whimpered pathetically, “O-oh my God, Ilya. I need to cum so fucking bad, please!”
When he was clear headed and not completely at Ilya’s will, Shane liked to believe he was above begging. In reality, Shane was hardly a half step above begging for what he wanted. It usually took a little bit of “convincing” on Ilya’s end, but that’s usually where bedroom activities led to one way or another. It was possibly one of Ilya’s top 3 favorite things that his boyfriend did in the bedroom. It meant that Shane was at his wits’ end and completely at Ilya’s mercy. It meant that the dark-haired man was utterly and pathetically Ilya’s. Ilya’s own play-thing that allowed him to do whatever he wanted. God, he loved his partner.
Ilya had positioned them on their bed. He sat them up, his back pressed against the headboard and his boyfriend’s back pressed against his front. Shane’s feet were planted on the mattress and his legs were spread and bent, leaving him entirely exposed except for the arm Ilya temporarily allowed him to sling over his eyes. If Shane hadn’t been so desperate and too-far gone he would’ve been quick to quietly complain at the feeling and shyly try to cover himself as discretely as possible. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway. Ilya never allows him to get very far with that.
Ilya had one hand moving across Shane’s front; alternating between grasping his neck, feeling up and down his chest, and tweaking Shane’s nipples when he felt the need to be a little mean to his partner. The other hand was currently wrapped around Shane’s cock, stroking him slowly and purposefully. Ilya had recently gotten Shane right on the edge once again, before pulling his hand away from Shane’s weeping and twitching cock. After a small break that was meant to bring Shane back down to earth and away from that moment when he was bound to finish at even a glance, Ilya once again began the process of breaking the man in his hands.
“What a good boy you are for me, Hollander. Taking anything and everything I give you so well, and with only very little complaining.” Ilya murmured into Shane’s ear, resulting in a shudder and a high-pitched whine from the man in his arms.
“F-fuck off, Rozanov.” Shane said, trying to fight back in any way he could. It was a pathetic and laughable attempt, but it was the best he could do right now in his current predicament.
Ilya tutted at him. “You can try all you want to prove me wrong,” the hand wrapped around Shane’s cock squeezed slightly, causing Shane to buck his hips and gasp in surprise. “But you and I both know how badly you want to be good for me, sweetheart.”
Shane squeezed his eyes shut when he heard his boyfriend speak. Fuck this guy. Fuck this guy, because his boyfriend was right. Dammit, he was so, so very correct in his observation. It was hardly a wild guess Ilya had made. They've been together in some capacity for over a decade now anyway.
“Be honest with me, moya lyubov, do you really think you are not easy? Why do you still fight me so hard when I tell you how good you are? You love being good, and you love it even more when others recognize this.” Ilya’s fingers were playing with Shane’s peaked and sore nipples, his other hand had dropped from Shane’s dick and had started its downward journey to Shane’s neglected hole.
The shorter man squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth falling open at the first bit of attention his hole had gotten all night. His stomach tightened to a painful degree at the way Ilya knew him too well.
Through Shane’s brain fog, he started to genuinely think about Ilya’s words. Was it some deeper underlying reason? I mean, the obvious reason behind why he denies it constantly is just because it’s embarrassing. Embarrassing because it goes against everything he heard and learned growing up about what it means to be masculine; what it means to be a ”real man”. It also just feels too exposing to admit he wants to be good for his boyfriend in front of anyone else, even if the only other person who hears this is said boyfriend. But, Shane has been trying to be better about expressing how he feels and accepting the hard truths. Sure, maybe his therapist had actually meant, like, working on accepting the fact that he doesn’t like change or speaking in front of large crowds, rather than agreeing with his partner that he wants to be a good boy for him. He was sure it still counted as progress.
“Fuck, Ilya, I—” Shane started, “Y-yeah, yes. I want—wanna be—oh god.” Shane was trying so damn hard to admit it. It’s not like he hasn’t said this and worse before during moments of passion, but dammit this was hard for him. It also didn’t help that Ilya’s finger was slowly making its way inside of him, even if it was only to the first knuckle.
Ilya could sense Shane’s apprehension and inward struggle and decided to take some pity on him. The fingers that had previously been playing with his nipples now moved to his jaw and turned his head to the side so Ilya could kiss him softly, sweetly. It was an awkward angle, but neither of them cared. It made Shane’s heart soar just a little in his chest. Sure, the act wasn’t anything crazy or new for them, but it made Shane happy because he knew it was Ilya’s way of saying It’s okay. I’m here, I’ve got you, and I’m not going anywhere. Take your time, because I know this is hard for you.
Tears had been slowly collecting in the corners of Shane’s eyes for the last 20 minutes or so, threatening to spill out every time Ilya got him to the edge and then denied him an orgasm yet again. He had worked hard not to let the tears fall, as he always tried to do, but something about the kiss broke him.
The first tear fell, then the second. The tears started flowing freely after that. It was a culmination of the taxing experience he had been through, and was still going through, that night in Ilya’s arms. He was in Ilya’s arms in their bed. This man loved him enough to know exactly how much he could and could not take. He knew how to press all of Shane’s buttons, both good and bad. Ilya was the only person in the world Shane trusted implicitly and completely—more than he trusted himself. Not only did Ilya know how to take Shane apart in ways Shane didn’t even know he needed, but Ilya did all of this while knowing Shane and his mind as a whole. He knew that Shane struggled with expressing his feelings and emotions and complex thoughts he deemed as off limits in his own mind. There was no one that could get Shane to be vulnerable like Ilya could.
So yeah, the small act of Ilya turning his head and kissing him sweetly while in the middle of this intense and emotionally taxing experience was breaking down his walls faster than any dirty talk or pleasurable touches ever would. It was more than just a soft kiss, though. It was Ilya checking in with Shane, asking if he was okay, giving him an out while still gently encouraging him to keep going with the scene. Reminding him he was allowed to experience the privilege of being vulnerable.
Shane brought his hand up to cup Ilya’s face as their lips moved, the only sounds being the wet smack that came with kissing as intensely as they were.
His entire body felt rubbed raw in the best way possible. The vulnerable and exposed feeling was partially due to the position Shane was in—legs spread, open-wide to the empty bedroom—but also because of how well Ilya knew him. To be loved is to be seen. To be loved is to be known.
“Yes, Ilya,” Shane finally murmured against his boyfriend’s mouth. “Wanna be good for you. Always wanna be good for you. I love it when you praise me for being good both in and out of the bedroom.” His mouth was moving freely now, spurred on by his love-sick thoughts and the salty taste of his tears that had made their way into his mouth when they kissed.
“I work hard because I want to be recognized and praised for my hard work, but somewhere along the way my motivations shifted. Suddenly, I started working even harder. Originally I told myself it was only because I wanted to be better than you on the ice,” Ilya gave Shane a loving smile and a soft huff of laughter. “But then I had a terrifying realization that, yes I wanted to beat you, but I wanted you to think highly of me. I wanted you to know that I was becoming better because I wanted your praise. And that was fucking terrifying for poor little 22 year old Shane Hollander.”
Both men laughed at that. “So yes, I want to be good for you. I’ve always wanted to be good for you.” Ilya crushed their lips together after Shane’s sappy admission.
Neither man’s erection let itself be ignored for too long, however. The blonde man kissed and sucked bruises onto the other man’s neck, and Shane’s eyelids closed as he sighed in contentment.
Shane’s mind was also still focused on his cock and all of his denied orgasms. “Ilya–” He began, but he didn’t get far.
“I know, sweetheart, I know. You need it so bad, don’t you?” Shane nodded emphatically, gripping Ilya’s wrist as he began stroking Shane’s cock faster and with intention of bringing him to the edge once more. “Being so good and patient for me, aren’t you? And finally being honest with yourself about what you want, what you need.”
Ilya’s hand that had been preoccupied with Shane’s upper half now moved down to join its twin, but it moved past Shane’s cock and instead slipped two fingers into Shane’s ass. When Ilya put lube on his fingers, he had no idea. It’s not surprising that Shane missed a small movement while floating as high as he was right now.
The duel attention to his lower half has Shane crying out, his eyes flying open, wanting to witness how Ilya continues to absolutely ruin Shane for anyone else (not that there ever would be anyone else). The Russian might actually be a sex god like he joked about earlier, because Shane is seeing stars as Ilya works him open without denying Shane any pleasure, murmuring sweet nothings in his mother tongue. Shane’s legs instinctually start to close in reaction to the overwhelming feeling, and immediately Ilya’s hand releases his cock. His other hand also freezes inside of Shane.
The abrupt stop has Shane yelling out, nearly growling with irritation. “Come on, Ilya! I wasn’t even close that time, I swear!” Shane isn’t deaf to the whine in his voice, desperation lacing his words. “I would’ve told you if I was close, I p-promise. Swear it, Ilya, wouldn’t—I wouldn't lie to you.”
Ilya waits for Shane to stop babbling, easily dragging a hand along Shane’s sternum to calm him. God, how did he seem so unaffected? Shane could feel his hard cock digging into his back, yet he remained calm in the face of Shane’s near tantrum.
“I know, moya lyubov, I know you weren’t close.” He shushes him quietly, but continues. “I know you would tell me if you were about to finish all over my hand because you have been doing it all night, just like I asked you to.” Even with his cock absolutely drooling, Shane listens closely to what Ilya has to say. He always does, but especially right now when he’s feeling so vulnerable and needs his partner to tether him down before he floats away.
“I had to stop playing with you because you closed your legs, and I need them open to ravish you, yes?” Shane whined, but nodded regardless. That made sense. That was fair. It was something Shane could accept.
Even during intense scenes such as this one, Ilya can’t help but be an asshole when the moment calls for it. “You hardly need to tell me when you are about to cum; at least, not anymore.” His hands rub the outside of Shane’s thighs, and it’s more torturous than one might expect. The touch is light while still being purposeful. Just far enough away from where Shane actually wants Ilya’s hands to be touching him, but still close enough that it seems a likely possibility.
“Like I said earlier, I have been fucking you for many years. I know your body better than I know my own.” Even though the words were meant to be sensual and alluring, Shane couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter at the reminder of how long he and Ilya had belonged to one another. Even before either man knew it, they had been thoroughly owned by the other.
Ilya must have been able to tell that Shane had calmed down a bit, because his hands once again began their previous ministrations. And my God, what good hands they were. Large enough that Ilya could wrap his hand around Shane’s cock easily, covering most of the surface area. Skin that was rough and calloused from a life of playing hockey, and aided in adding perfect friction against Shane’s skin, especially when it balanced out the sometimes too-slippery feeling of lubrication.
Compared to how fast and hard Ilya was moving earlier, this attention seemed almost apologetic and sweet. But Shane knew better, and so did Ilya. It was a common tactic Ilya used on Shane after studying his body and reactions over the years. The Canadian didn’t always want hard, fast, and aggressive. He did, however, love short bursts of it followed by slow and purposeful. It served to make him that much needier, if it was even possible in his current predicament.
Ilya was such a bastard.
Shane could barely hear Ilya over his own panting and ringing in his ears. “When you get close, you begin to tremble in my arms. You shake like a leaf, you’re so desperate for it.” An inhumane sounding whine escaped Shane’s lips. “Your hips buck without meaning to, and your right eye twitches in the corner.”
Ilya had been softly stroking Shane’s cock and brushing against his prostate for only a minute or two, but Shane felt like he was on fire. His lower half was burning, but not in a painful way. Well, maybe a little painful, but it was the kind of pain Shane enjoyed. It meant he was overstimulated and reaching the end of his rope.
“Ilya,” Shane whined, drawing out the ‘a’ sound in his boyfriend’s name, but Ilya wasn’t done speaking.
“Whenever I am inside you, your hole clenches around my cock like it is trying to squeeze my soul from my body—similar to how it sucks my fingers back in, like you are doing now.” At some point when Ilya was speaking, Shane’s head had dropped back on Ilya’s shoulder. He was exhausted and needed release before he combusted.
“Do you want to know one of the reasons I love you?” Ilya murmured. Shane couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. He knew whatever was about to come from Ilya’s lips was going to be insanity. “I love that when I play with your cock I never need any lube. You leak like fountain, constantly producing more slick, just for me. Even without words, even if you deny it, I know you belong to me because your body will always betray you and what you need most—because you always need to prove your loyalty to me. Your total obedience and submission.”
Rozanov could read this man like a damn book. Shane lets out little ah, ah, ah sounds as Ilya begins to move faster. The slick noises being produced from Ilya’s fingers inside of him, as well as the hand around his wet cock, is downright sinful.
He can’t help but lift his head from Ilya’s shoulder to look at the mess Ilya is making of him. The sight is breathtakingly filthy. For a moment, Shane wishes they had a mirror in front of their bed. The image that takes shape in Shane’s head of what he must look like right now, completely at Ilya’s mercy and falling apart, is hot enough to have his legs unconsciously start to close once more.
Ilya stops his movements again, but this time was different. Rather than stopping everything to punish the dark haired man, Ilya instead uses his now free hands to grab the underside of Shane’s thighs and hoist them over his own bent knees, leaving Shane somehow even more exposed than before. Ilya had never done that before. Had never put them in this compromising position. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why it made his cock twitch and hole clench with interest. Ilya had certainly put him in crazier positions before.
There were no chastising remarks or talks of some kind of punishment for Shane’s transgression. For just a moment he wondered why that was, until he felt the growing spot on his back that was wet from Ilya’s precum.
Ilya turns Shane’s chin so that he looks at him. Whatever he sees on Shane’s face makes him chuckle a bit. Shane can only imagine how pathetic he looks. Ilya leans down and brings their lips together in a bruising kiss, before he reaches down to grip Shane’s cock and begins moving his hand at a much faster pace than before, but just as practiced. Just as purposeful.
He breaks away, still cradling his partner’s face, and looks down at his hand. Ilya groans at the sight. “My goodness,” he starts, unable to avoid commenting. “Hollander, you are making quite the mess.” He tuts softly.
It wasn’t really his fault, but Shane apologizes anyway. “M’sorry, s-so, fuck, so sorry. I want—wannabegood,” He slurs, his words softened by the overstimulation and continuous pleasure he’s receiving. “Wanna be so good for you. Can’t help but be messy, m’sorry Ilya.”
Shane was fully crying now, nearing true sobbing territory. The tears were a result of the edging, yes, but Shane felt truly shameful at the accidental mess he made. Ilya had only been teasing, but the need to be perfect for Ilya in every possible way made it even more difficult than usual to discern what was teasing and what was not.
Ilya was kissing the side of Shane’s face. Kissing and licking away the tears that fell over his boyfriend’s gorgeous freckled cheeks. “Why would I be mad about this? Who said I do not enjoy this mess, hm?” He said, successfully soothing the high-strung man in his arms. “I love how messy you are. You get so wet and slick, and you are always so tight here,” Ilya said, punctuating his point by drawing a slick finger over Shane’s rim before easily sliding it in. “I love all these things about you. Please, do not ever think the opposite.”
Shane let out a slurred and jumbled thank you. It wasn’t for one thing in particular, more so encompassing everything Ilya was doing to him and for him in that moment. Perhaps it was a thank you for everything Ilya had ever done for Shane over the years. He was too out of it to tell the difference.
Ilya now had two fingers inside of Shane and was abusing his prostate with no mercy. Shane knew he was making noises—loud ones—but he couldn’t tell if he was trying to speak actual words.
“I think of all of these things—your tight hole, how wet you get for me, that you are so soft and submissive, and you are also smaller than me—and it made me realize that you are very similar to a girl.”
If Shane’s legs hadn’t been forced open by Ilya’s bigger and stronger ones, they definitely would have closed then. He can’t just say shit like that and not expect Shane to nearly jump out of his skin with arousal. Moaning, Shane’s hole clenched on Ilya’s fingers and his dick released more precum, somehow.
Ilya didn’t need to be a genius to see how his words had affected Shane. “Ah, so you like being my woman, Shane Hollander? It wasn’t enough to just be my fuck toy, you wanted to be moya printsessa, too? My princess?”
In the coming days Shane would deny this with his entire being. Ilya would likely use this against him at practice and Shane would threaten to kick Ilya’s ass. But that was a problem for future Shane. Present day Shane, however? He really was Ilya’s princess, and the thought had him careening towards the edge at a speed that made him dizzy.
“Yes! Yes, Ilya. Love it, I love it so damn much. It’s just—mmm, fuck, — for you.” The muscles in Shane’s body were twitching, his abs spasming at the constant flexing he was doing in response to Ilya’s torture. He knew he’d be sore tomorrow.
Shane was close. Shane was so very, very close. Ilya knew this, but Shane was warning him about it anyway. “G-gonna cum, oh god Ilya. M’so fucking close, Ilya, Ilya please—!” His hips were bucking wildly into Ilya’s fist while his prostate was being milked for everything he was worth. “Can’t—ohhh fuck, fuck! Can’t hold it. Need to, need to cum. I’lldoanything, anything for it.”
The ringing in Shane’s ears had intensified, and he could hear his blood rushing through his veins like a river after a spring storm. If Ilya denied him again, he didn’t know what he would do. I might die, he thought, I might actually die.
He didn’t have to wonder for very long. Ilya, with hands never stopping their continuous movements, finally said the words Shane had been wanting to hear all fucking night. “Cum for me, Hollander. Show me exactly how insatiable you are.”
He hated to be a pawn in this fucked up game Ilya was playing just to prove a point, but he was just a man.
He came, hard. His vision was blurry from the tears and everything was going black around the edges. The pleasure was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was consuming and felt like kerosine moving through his body, igniting and scorching every nerve ending in its path. It felt like he had just been thrown into the sun. Subconsciously, he felt Ilya rutting against his back, before growling and biting his neck as he came all over Shane’s back. Ilya’s hands were still moving, drawing out Shane’s well-deserved and well-earned orgasm. Shane could tell the hands were still moving; not from the movements themselves, but rather because it felt like he was still coming, and might never stop.
By the time Shane floated back down to earth, Ilya had moved them onto their sides. His limbs felt wobbly and useless—like his entire body was made from jell-o. Shane could feel he was covered front and back. He had cum so hard that it had reached his chest, and Ilya had finished on his lower back. Soon he would feel disgusting, but right now he only felt content mixed with bone-deep exhaustion.
One of Ilya’s arms was wrapped around Shane’s middle, and the other hand was running through Shane’s hair. “How do you feel?” Ilya asked him, checking in on his boyfriend. Ilya knew he was prone to dropping after intense scenes like that, and knew how to safely care for him afterwards.
Shane hummed, his drowsiness making him feel a little quirky. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty damn satiated after that.” Ilya paused as he took in and translated Shane’s words, trying to decide if Shane Hollander just made a joke. After being edged for an hour.
Ilya’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. It eventually devolved into the two men, spooning one another while still covered in cum and sweat, laughing so hard their stomachs hurt and tears pricked the corners of their eyes. Anyone else witnessing this might be concerned, but Ilya and Shane were the only two that mattered. It didn’t need to make sense to anyone else, because it made sense to them.
Shane knew his boyfriend well enough now he could sense that Ilya was about to say something stupid. “I think you still proved me right, my insatiable little princess.”
Shane blushed and elbowed a laughing Ilya in the ribs so hard the other man let out a groan and curled into himself, still laughing. “That’s what you get, asshole.” Shane said, smugly.
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being a figure skater and dating ilya rozanov would include: {aesthetic}
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him showing up to every competition that doesn’t interfere with his nhl schedule.
the cameras immediately turning to your famous boyfriend cheering you on when you take the ice.
bringing you a bouquet of pink peonies after every skate because you once offhandedly mentioned that red roses were cliché and impersonal.
the cameras also turning to you when you attend his nhl games - and he loves that everyone knows you’re his.
him insisting on tying your laces when you go skating together even though you insist that you know how and have done so a million times.
him loving to feel you up in your figure skating outfits. “what is this, is this lace? it’s nice”
but his favourite thing to pull off of you is his jersey…
managing busy schedules so when you both do get to see each other, you basically attack each other.
him trying to teach you basic russian on your days off.
you trying to teach him figure skating lifts and pair moves even though you’re an individual skater which results in him almost dropping you on your head multiple times.
you bullying him every time he turns soft around you which results in him becoming extremely defensive while you laugh.
him cooking for you and you baking for him on the rare nights you have off together.
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So I watched episode 5 of Heated Rivalry and I'm still not okay because the romance is SO MUCH for my poor little heart and so I had to get them two out of my system.
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