gay and tired

photo of him and marly in g-strings

multiple speedometer pictures, all while driving and all over the speed limit

club selfies with svetlana and like every fifth one you can see that they definitely just did key bumps

video of him downing a big mac in like 35 seconds while the raiders call him disgusting in the background

a million sweaty gym selfies

200+ selfies of him with the stanley cup in various states of drunkenness and undress

dick pic accidentally posted to his story. it is the only story of his he’s deleted. followed by a black screen that say “whoops 😜 no peaking 😈”

video of him and svetlana doing ossetra caviar bumps

Confused, Shane immediately calls him.

"Is this some new and unique way to psych me out before the final, Rozanov? I didn't know you had money on Detroit."

"No, I am sending for a good reason," Ilya laughs. "I know it sucks for us that when you win all your team will be kissing their girlfriends and Pike will be making out all gross with Jackie, and we will not be able to. So, I wanted to show you exactly where I first kissed the cup. It was on the top, right over where it says Ottawa 1905, left of where it says 'Challenge Cup'. I remember because I did this on purpose. We weren't anything then, but I was thinking of you. I couldn't help thinking of you. So if you kiss the same place, it will be a little like we are sharing a kiss. And only we will know about it."

And Shane feels the air clean knocked out of his lungs and the back of his throat get tight, as he barely gets out, "Baby, that's... Thank you. I don't know what to say. I love you so fucking much. I'll make sure you see our kiss, okay?"

"I will be watching. I love you, My Shane. Go show the world why Shane Fucking Hollander is the goat, okay?"

On the night Shane wins his third Stanley Cup, he kisses their spot on the cup, thinking only of Ilya, and longs for a day where he can pull him onto the ice like Scott did with Kip.

Shane's "not here" in the showers, and "not with Scott Hunter next door" in the hotel room, and "with who 😠" in Vegas before they go out on stage — he's afraid of hooking up & being found out, and he's afraid of never getting to hook up again. He's afraid of what Ilya can give him and what he can take away from him. He's scared because he's worked hard and has so much to lose.

And Ilya sees his fear and Allows it. Encourages Shane to feel it, endure it, while Ilya adds to it, and praises Shane for getting through it. Shane's fear is proof that he's vulnerable and real and every time he shows that part of himself to Ilya he's Allowing Ilya to do whatever he wants with it. Ilya hears Shane's "with who 😠" and 15 minutes later follows him into the bathroom, shrugs off ghosting him for six months, and responds to Shane's "what the fuck do you actually want from me" with a smug "I want you to suck my dick".

And what is Shane supposed to do? He's angry, he's upset, he's lonely and horny and sad. And he's scared that Ilya doesn't care about him anymore. And he yells back, "You suck MY dick" and he can't help it, there's a quiver in his voice, and he's showing Ilya his fear, his insecurity, his little skip of a heartbeat. It's a gift, really. A form of courage. And it fills Ilya with a kind of puffed up pride for Shane, his Shane, his brave boy. "Maybe ask nicely," Ilya tells him, and encourages him to give into his fear. And he does, Shane asks so nicely, with the sweetest double please.

And Part 2 of 2

—

“Fuck, I need you inside me, like, yesterday.”

Ilya gives a short, breathless laugh into Shane’s neck, biting his bare shoulder. “Wow, wow. So desperate for it, you can’t even wait to give me proper hello.”

“This is your hello, asshole,” Shane grits out, his hands pawing at Ilya’s clothes, as clumsy and greedy as Ilya feels. They’ve barely made it two steps inside their home, Ilya’s bag dropped carelessly at their feet. 

“No ‘welcome home, my wonderful husband’,” Ilya pants, squeezing one of Shane’s pecs. “No ‘how was your trip, love of my life, tell me everything’...”

“Later,” Shane hisses, with a sinful roll of his hips. Ilya growls, crowding him back into the wall of their entranceway, and Shane draws him into his rhythm so they’re grinding like teenagers.

Ilya’s so fucking hard. He’s been hard since the goddamn taxi from the airport, since Shane started texting him all Really missed your dick and I need to be filled so bad, in that matter-of-fact way of his.

“Baby, please,” Shane moans, tipping his head back, eyes gone soft and glistening as his long lashes flutter, pretty pink lips hanging open all swollen and wet. It’s unfair, really.

“Yes, yes,” Ilya manages, nodding jerkily. “I know. You need this cock. I will fuck you like you deserve, lyubimyy.”

A bead of sweat trickles down the nape of his neck, beneath his jacket and t-shirt. Something about being fully clothed with Shane in only his favourite worn-soft grey sweatpants drives him out of his mind. Shane’s cock twitches against Ilya’s hip through the thin material, and Ilya knows he’s wearing nothing underneath. Beautiful, eager little slut.

Ilya’s stomach tightens, balls tingling, electricity thrumming through him. Shit, he’s in trouble. He should pull back. Take a breath. But he just—can’t find the strength to tear away.

They kiss messy and open-mouthed, smearing spit over his lips and chin, and Ilya’s hips thrust clumsily with a mind of their own. He moans at the filthy friction of it, at the solid warmth of Shane’s body under his. He’s missed it. He needs it.

He shoves his hands down the back of Shane’s sweats, hauling him closer and shamelessly groping his ass.

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, please,” Shane moans, clinging to Ilya’s shoulders and trying to wrap a leg around him. “C’mon, baby. Fuck me.”

Ilya’s eyes squeeze shut as his cock kicks, pulsing a hot spill of pre-come into his boxers. He can’t stop grinding forward, chasing that too-much-not-enough, Shane squirming and whining as they pant into each others’ mouths. Ilya grips his ass tight enough to bruise, shakes his cheeks a little to feel them jiggle, then parts them.

His fingertips brush Shane’s hole, and oh, fuck. It’s soft and open and so fucking wet, and it yields so sweetly under his touch—

“I got ready—” Shane gasps, and that’s it.

The orgasm slams through him, stealing his breath and leaving him humping forward gracelessly, driving Shane into the wall with the force of it. He buries his flushed-red face into Shane’s hair, moaning when the familiar scent of his shampoo sends another violent pulse through his body. It feels endless, spilling and spilling into his pants, the filthy-wet slide of his boxers over his sensitive cock only drawing it out as he mindlessly ruts against Shane.

“Oh my god,” Ilya groans weakly.

“Oh my god,” Shane echoes in disbelief, but he holds him close as he quivers through it, shoving his knee up for Ilya to ride it out. His big hands sweep soothingly over his back.

Ilya swallows when the aftershocks fade out and a quiet pause settles between them. It’s Shane who pushes him back, forcing him to meet Shane’s eyes. There’s an apology on his lips, but Shane kisses it away, cupping his face with both hands and laughing sweetly into it.

“You laugh at me,” Ilya complains, but he’s smiling too, dazed and stupid and lovedrunk.

“No.” Shane shakes his head, rubbing the tips of their noses together. Ilya winces a little as his oversensitive dick twitches at that. Fuck, he really is in love. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Ilya smiles wider, chest puffing up, and pulls Shane into a deep kiss. Shane sighs into it, languidly sliding his tongue along Ilya’s, before he pushes at Ilya’s chest again.

“So, wait… which one of us were you calling desperate?”

—