“is there anything so undoing as a daughter”

In all seriousness, though, OP is right. They play the same position: centre. Which means Ilya will be the first line centre in Ottawa and Shane the second line centre. And no, it’s not a demotion for Shane. If you have arguably the two best centres in the league on different lines, the opposing defencemen and goalies can NEVER rest. The offensive threat is relentless.

On most hockey teams, the strongest offensive players are on the first line. Which means when the second line’s shift starts, these players aren’t as good. But when the second line centre is Shane motherfucking Hollander, you don’t get a rest. You never get a chance to catch your breath.

Particularly when your first line centre and second line centre are competitive with each other. You just know they’ll be pushing the wingers on their respective lines relentlessly because each of them wants to outdo his husband’s line. For bragging rights or better sex or whatever.

Every team in the league will hate playing against Ottawa, and be bitter at Montreal for fumbling Shane. Because they effectively have two first offensive lines, and that’s very difficult to play against.

Ilya had shared so much of himself, so many vulnerable moments, that Shane thought it was only fair. They were boyfriends now, after all.

So at the end of their first summer, after much of Ilya’s prodding, he caved. Ilya listened with rapt, amused attention.

“It was just… embarrassing,” Shane admitted, ducking his head.

“Embarrassing how?” Ilya encouraged, smiling.

So Shane went through the first time. It wasn’t that bad, she blew him and it felt…fine. Kind of like jerking off. He went down on her - he knew he wasn’t great at it, but he was coachable and she seemed to enjoy herself. She mostly just grabbed his hair and did most of the work herself. Ilya smirked at that, grabbing his hair and commenting that he must have liked that.

He didn’t, really. Just felt kind of neutral about it, just glad she was having fun.

Then he went into the second and last time.

He talked about how he tried to psych himself up for it. How he felt so terrible when she took her clothes off and he felt nothing. How humiliated he was when she stuck her hand down his pants and he was soft.

How she was so sweet and told him they could stop, watch a movie or something. How he insisted he was turned on but he was just stressed. How she hesitated and he snapped at her that he was fine. How he hated that she accepted that and kept going.

After ten minutes of foreplay, he had finally given in and said he had to pee, not meeting her eyes. He spent five minutes in the bathroom, getting himself hard and only half succeeding. He was able to fuck her but he couldn’t get the angle or rhythm correct, only staying hard through thinking about Ilya. She had to stop him to get her vibrator and assured him she almost never got off without it. He chose to believe her but he knew he was fucking it all up.

He was soft by the time she came and when she asked if he came, he lied. “Yeah, sure,” Shane had avoided her eyes. “That was so hot.”

She had looked concerned and it just made Shane angry. Not at her, of course, just himself. Maybe at Ilya.

He tried to take care of her like Ilya did with him. He brought her a rag and water bottle, but she said she was just going to take a quick shower.

So Shane laid in bed alone and was already trying to figure out what the hell to do because this wasn’t fair to her. To make her feel like she wasn’t doing it for her own boyfriend. His plan A was getting a prescription for viagra.

Turned out he didn’t have to, of course, because Rose had sat him down that night and assured him it wasn’t a problem to fix. She had asked, so gently, if it was better with another guy. He opened up to her, admitting things to her he hadn’t even admitted to himself. She laughed with him, made him feel normal. Just another gay boyfriend of hers.

He doesn’t look at Ilya during the story. He doesn’t see the way the smirk melts off Ilya’s face. Doesn’t see how his jaw tightens or his eyes shine. Doesn’t see his hands clench in the blanket.

But when he looks up, he didn’t see the amusement or jealousy he expected. He sees anger and sadness.

“I’m glad she was kind to you,” Ilya says roughly. “I’m sorry I made fun of you.”

“Ilya,” Shane said, confused.

“You did not want to have sex with her,” Ilya said simply. “You did anyway.”

Shane reeled back. “Stop. You make it sound like she-”

“No,” Ilya said. “I know. I know she was good to you but… it isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t?” Shane asked, climbing in Ilya’s lap, sensing he needed it.

“You having sex you don’t want,” Ilya rested his forehead against Shane’s chest. “Because you are gay. Because you think you have to. I don’t like the thought of it.”

“It was fine, Ilya,” Shane said. “Just embarrassing disasters.”

“It is not!” Ilya grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled back to look him in the eyes. “It is not embarrassing. Is sad, maybe. But not ever embarrassing. You felt you had to.”

“That wasn’t Roses fault.”

“Maybe no,” Ilya said, frustrated. “Maybe society’s fault. But not your fault.”

“Okay,” Shane conceded, his voice a little wet too. “Okay.”

Shane let Ilya hold him for a while. He could concede that, as much as being with Rose helped him figure out who he was and be confident about it, in a perfect world it would have never happened. But Shane didn’t want to waste time mourning a perfect world and lose time in this one.

It's one of Shane's biggest turn-ons that the only man he's taken to bed (presumably in the show) is Ilya Rozanov, his only equal in the sport. He loves that he and Rozanov are always nearly evenly matched. Neither is objectively better, both only win against the other by a hairsbreadth.

So sometimes, usually only over the summer or during longer breaks, Shane will actually use his full strength to fight against Ilya's hold. This signals to Ilya that he wants to start the game.

Ilya will be pinning him down and Shane will wrap his legs around his waist to flip them over. Ilya will twist his arm behind his back until his shoulder aches. Shane will grab his shoulders, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises and push him back down. Ilya will slap him across the face and Shane will grip his hair by the roots. They'll both fight to be on top until they're covered in sweat and sore and panting. Importantly, both are truly trying to win.

Sometimes, Ilya will win. Shane's muscles will give out, chest heaving. He'll be pressed face down in the pillows, arms pinned on his back, salty sweat and frustrated tears burning his eyes. His whole body tingling and aching, knowing that only Ilya is good enough, strong enough, to beat him like this.

Sometimes, Shane will win. Ilya's thighs burn with the strain of pinning Shane down until they finally give way. Shane will feel the give and waste no time flipping them over. He'll collect both of Ilya's straining hands in his own and pin them against his sweaty chest with a low, "keep them there". Ilya will give in, heart racing and legs shaking with a defeated, "fuck" and just go boneless, letting Shane take and take and take.

They won't kick or punch each other, of course, nothing to leave real injuries beyond pressure bruises or red marks.

Mostly because he’s loud. If you’ve ever heard athletes get these massages, they hurt/feel amazing and it is common for athletes to moan/groan/gasp loudly throughout.

So when they’re living together, Ilya is white-nuckled in the kitchen gripping the counters as his husband is laying on his massage table sounding like he’s getting fucked six ways to Sunday.

He can’t even watch because Amanda is there and Ilya doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

He finally caves and heads to the shower when Shane gasps out, “yeah, right there, fuck.”

Yuna Hollander does not hesitate to scoop that charitable opportunity up.

They get their 12 players, one for each month. Shane gets his birth month, May. The tagline on top of his photo is: "I may be a two-time Stanley Cup winner, but I still get checked regularly for early onset heart disease."

During the following preseason, Ilya walks in on the Bears howling with laughter about something. Never one to be left out, Ilya demands to know what's so funny. He's passed a Heartthrob Against Heart Disease 2018-2019 calendar and joins in on the laughter as he flips through these idiots. That is, until he gets to May.

Shane is on the ice, a hockey stick slotted across his broad shoulders, arms draped over it. He's shirtless, only wearing gloves and his baggy hockey pants, ridden down on one side to show off the top of his underwear and the deep V just above his hips. They must have had him do pushups because his abs are more defined than usual, deep cuts across his stomach shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. His hair was messed up, like someone had run their hands through it. He was looking directly at the camera, a little smirk on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing. His biceps...

The calendar was snatched from him, which was probably a good thing, if the saliva pooling in his mouth and the tightness of his pants were anything to go by.

Shane Hollander routinely uses sunscreen(for safety against skin cancer) and washes his face with a sensitive skin friendly soap in the shower. He uses the same bar for his entire body.

Beyond that his smooth skin is entirely coincidental. Ilya is very jealous of this. Ilya wears hair products, styles himself meticulously and has tried multiple skincare routines. None of which are giving him the supple skin he desires.

The first time Ilya goes to Shane's real apartment and not the sex condo he is outraged by the number of unused samples of skincare products, mostly because these brands are choosing to work with Shane when he knows for a fact that Shane does nothing to properly take care of his skin.

Shane's bathroom sink is barren.

Shane *enters Ilya's bathroom*: why do you have so much clutter in here

Ilya *outraged*: is not clutter Hollander we did not all climb out of womb and become world's prettiest man by accident

Shane *having no filter*: why do you bother with it if it doesn't work?

Yuna and David are doing something (cooking dinner, out to the store, etc.) and Shane is giving Ilya the tour. An actual tour this time because they are at his parent's house.

Once Ilya sees the little practice rink, he lights up. The walls are splashed with Shane's youth trophies - snowplow sam badges in a case, tiny little baby skates, power-skating ribbons, pictures from his first tournaments, team jerseys from U8-16, his first hockey stick hanging on the wall, his first game winning puck on a shelf, his first tiny jersey. Ilya takes his time to comment on everything.

Then Ilya grabs a stick from the wall (one of the practice ones) and a puck from the bucket that hasn't been touched in a decade. Shane, never one to back down from a challenge, especially on home turf, grabs his own practice stick. There are no skates that fit either of them, so they just step on the synthetic ice with socks on.

And that's how Yuna and David find them, checking each other into the flimsy boards that are not meant for fully grown hockey players, firing shots into the little nets with enough force to knock them over, cursing at each other like there's a ref around to do something about it, etc.

"So, how did you two meet?" That was fine, safe territory.

They both answered the same way, "a parking lot in Saskatchewan when we were 17."

But, the question, "so who made the first move?" Unsafe territory, turn back now.

"You introduced yourself to me!"

"That wasn't making a move! You organized a whole photoshoot."

"You shook my hand, twice! You looked me up and down!"

"I did not!"

"You had a crush on me."

"You had a crush on me!"

"You called me a hot player to watch."

"I did not and you know that, Rozanov."

"My English wasn't good."

"You - okay, draft night?"

"What about it? Oh, when you kept staring at my cock?"

"No! When you kept touching my hand and had your legs all spread in front of me!"

"You were staring at me."

"You winked at me."

"You took water bottle."

"Because you told me to!"

"Well, you were blushing on photoshoot."

"You called me pretty, twice!"

"You were laughing!"

"So were you!"

"Because you kept looking at me like - like that!"

"You told me you organized the shoot!"

"You agreed to it! You wanted to see me again."

"You starting jerking off at me in the shower!"

"Only because you were checking out my ass!"

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were! I would not do that if you were not checking me out!"

"You asked for my room number!"

"You waited for me to come out of the shower - I gave you time to leave!"

"I was drying my hair."

"You were waiting for me."

"I was not, I just wanted to talk!"

"Talk! You wanted to talk to hot Russian you invited to your room at night?"

"Yes!"

"You were on your knees in five seconds!"

Mic’d up Shane trying his best to ignore Ilya but after a very stupid penalty can’t help but skate up to Ilya in the penalty box to chirp him, giving a pretty classic tame Hollander chirp.