2017-2019 ilya is always feverishly looking for his juul flipping up couch cushions shaking out throw blankets accusing shane of sitting on it when its tucked safely in his waistband đŠˇ
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times ilya rozanov was so lost in the sauce that he ascended to a higher plane: in (mostly) chronological order from hook-up era to marriage
the first time shane rode him during the hook-up era. when shane was still hollander, still nothing more than a torturous daydream, something he could have for small, greedy moments before having to let go of again. and he's still in denial about it all at this point, unwilling to put a name to that echoey, achey feeling in his chest that blooms when hollander leaves their bed and puts his carefully constructed mask back in place. Shane Hollander--the captain, the teenage phenom, the golden boy, the pride and joy of Canada--replacing the boy ilya had just had under his fingertips, in his mouth, beneath his body. anyway. it's a heady thing, for ilya, to have this side of hollander. to have hollander sat on top of him, holding ilya down with his wrists pinned above his head, hips moving slow and confident and maybe a little mean as he pants and grins and teases "you okay there rozanov?" and ilya just nods. he's totally okay, he's not seeing god or nirvana or angels or whatever the fuck. it's just hollander, bent over him, pretty face full of open wanting, a flush high on his cheeks, his mouth bitten red and slack around sweet sweet little 'unh unh unh' sounds every time he rolls his hips just right. and ilya just lays beneath him and grasps at his hips as he bounces and grinds in his lap. when he comes it makes him dizzy, his heart pounding in his throat, warmth tingling down his chest to his toes. it takes him a moment, too lost in the sauce to notice that hollander is still hard but then ilya is quickly rolling them over and swallowing him down the second he realises. later, he showers and thinks of how to get hollander on top of him--bouncing and grinding and rolling those strong hips, flexing those thick thighs, ass jiggling--again.
obviously, the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov is at the cottage. post-iloveyous, post-shanewakesilyaupinthemiddleofthenighttoplanthenextdecadeoftheirlivestogether. it's that moment when they're tangled up together in the soft sunlight, rain pitter-pattering on the wide glass windows, shane looking back at ilya so sweetly asking "this is real right" with his big, strong hand gripping at ilya's curls. and i think we can all agree that moment is the first moment they don't use condoms so ilya is trying to answer--to give shane the verbal confirmation he needs--but his entire body is buzzing with sensation at how warm, tight, soft, close shane feels like this. his mind is just drowning in loud tingling pleasure, his body also. all of him honed in on shane, shane, shane. he couldn't think of anything else if he tried. all he can do is nuzzle his nose into shane's pit, smear kisses over his ribs, lap helplessly at shane's nipple, and watch shane beneath him. watch his pretty face as his freckles bunch up, as his big brown eyes water with pleasure, as his cheeks get ruddy and his brows pinch then relax as his beautiful boy sinks into the sensation. and when they're both done, ilya stays tight to shane's back, just stroking up and down the thick muscle of his lover's thigh, kissing at his ribs, enjoying the afterglow. enjoying it the way he's wanted to for so long, with nothing between them and no need to wash away his longing by showering as fast as possible.
maybe not that first summer but after a year or two ilya manages to convince shane to smoke a blunt with him. and shane is terrible at it; he complains that the smoke burns his lungs and he coughs violently and chokes on each inhale, barely taking any in. so, of course, ilya takes over. presses his mouth, damp and hot and full of smoke, to shane's and pushes his tongue past shane's lips. and that's how shane gets high, breathing in the smoke ilya traps behind his teeth. they smoke out on the dock, at sunset. shane says he feels nothing and ilya just hums, says "sure, hollander" and pokes shane's flushed cheeks, laughs at shane's wide pupils, lounges back against the wooden dock with a wicked quirk to his smart mouth. and he feels it. in his limbs, that heavy warm floaty buzzy feeling that makes him kinda feel like sleeping and kinda feel like bursting into a fit of childish giggles. it takes about ten minutes for shane's body to loosen, for him to turn to ilya with heavy, hazy eyes and then crawl over top of ilya, pushing him down into the dock to kiss him all sloppy and demanding and hot. and ilya's had sex high before, made out high before, but suddenly his heart is frantic. shane is heavy in his lap, shirtless and drenched in orange-gold light, freckles stark over his cheeks and shoulders. he's beautiful, his brown eyes turned amber in the sunset, his pouty mouth swollen and dragging heated kiss after heated kiss from ilya's lips. and ilya's heart is pounding, so fucking loud in his ears, he can feel the hectic thumping of it in his throat, in his chest, banging on his ribcage. actually, he's so violently turned on and the adrenaline is pumping so fast he feels sick and he wrenches away with a gasp and feels lightheaded and has to hold off shane who is pouting and whining for more kisses. all the blood in ilya's body has travelled to his dick and all that's left in his brain is a druggy haze of lust and cotton. this is the first time ilya rozanov ever freaks the fuck out on weed -- because his high brain got so turned on he nearly forgot to breathe between kisses. he has to lie flat on the dock breathing in through his mouth and out his nose for twenty minutes before he can get up and go inside.
i think their wedding night they are too drunk and delirious with joy to manage anything more than a sloppy, messy, grinding makeout in bed after everyone leaves. they're both coming in their pants and showering afterwards together and kissing some more and then falling asleep in a heap of tangled limbs. their honeymoon, however, is full of ridiculous, ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov sex moments. the most notable being after a night out at some club. shane had been just so fucking sweet and hot and joyful all night. dark hair styled nicely, big arms on display in the tight little sheer black t-shirt ilya buys him to wear out to the club, his fingers tucked into ilya's waistband most of the night, just a little possessive and a little clingy. but ilya just has such a nice night. he does shots with a drag queen and meets fun, attractive, queer people. he dances in public with his husband under pulsing neon lights and kisses shane in the corner underneath the speakers throbbing ear-splitting club music. he feels a little trashy and a lot young and infinitely in love with his husband who mostly just bobs his head awkwardly to the music and holds ilya's hand with a besotted look on his handsome face. and when they get in the uber back to the hotel at 4 in the morning shane doesn't even flinch when ilya plasters himself to his side, kisses all over his neck, gropes his chest in the backseat. and when they're finally in the hotel room and stripped naked there's glitter on shane's skin from brushing up against the other bodies on the dancefloor and he's sweaty and he smells a little musky and a little like alcohol and ilya just loves him. loves his husband for coming out with him to a club and indulging everything ilya wanted all night even if he was nervous. loves his husband for the way he'd just had eyes for ilya all night, not even noticing anyone else looking at him, dark eyes never straying from ilya. and they go into the bathroom to shower the night off their bodies but ilya gets distracted looking at shane in the mirror, looking at him standing there all naked and glorious in the soft yellow light, and he can't help but drop to his knees behind shane and pry apart his asscheeks and bury himself there, tongue lapping, pressing, smearing, sliding over shane's hole. and he sucks kisses into the skin, pushes his tongue in, drools over his own chin as he presses his face in deeper. eats shane out for so long that his neck cramps and his knees hurt but he's entirely lost in it. moaning and groaning and whimpering when shane pushes his hips back, when shane reaches back to grab his hair and hold him closer, when shane curses and pleads and whines for more. ilya isn't even thinking of fucking shane--he is enjoying this too much. at some point he started jerking himself off tho and he comes like that, tongue buried in his husband, moaning loudly and dripping saliva down his chin.
ilya has been injured for a week, on IR, out of commission. he's miserable about it. not just because of the hockey--not just bc he is captain and feels like a sack of shit for abandoning his team, to which shane had said "baby, it sucks but it's good it happened now and not later in the season. you'll be back on the ice in time to make sure we still make it to the playoffs"--but also because his injury has prevented him from doing much with his husband. shane has been on a roadie and ilya has been with yuna and david, being dotted on, which is a bit overkill -- it's just a sprained groin not even a severe sprain, the doctor had said it was only grade two and he'd been fine in a few weeks. but before that he hadn't been allowed to do much either -- nothing at all in the bedroom -- and he is miserable. when shane gets back he picks ilya up from his parent's place and anya too and they all go home to their quiet ottawa place. anya runs off to her favourite corner of the yard to reacquaint herself with her favourite pile of dirt in the bushes and shane fusses over ilya on the couch. ilya is NOT sulking at all, not at all bitching and whining like a child. he's just saying that he doesn't need all this fuss hollander, it's fine, please just come here and let me blow you at least. and shane--who is currently been bumped from A to C--is trying to be responsible and telling his husband "no, you will not go on your knees and strain your groin further just to suck me off" and ilya groans and says "okay, i will lie flat and you can sit on my face, do all the work yourself" and, well, shane's dick is a little interested in that. but no, he shakes his head. so ilya pulls out the big guns, he pouts, flutters his thick lashes, looks up at shane with his eyes all pleading and says "i miss you" and shane groans, rubs a hand over his face and stomps away. ilya thinks his tactic has failed but then shane is coming back, dropping lube onto the couch then climbing behind ilya, dragging ilya back to lean his back against shane's chest. and ilya is confused by this turn of events but says nothing as shane kisses at his throat, runs a featherlight touch up and down the ladder of his ribs, the other hand massaging ilya's thick thigh muscle, careful of where ilya's muscle tore. and shane does this for ages, just kissing at ilya's neck, biting at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder, scratching blunt nails over ilya's sides and rubbing his thumb over ilya's nipple. ilya is hard as fuck and wants to squirm away but shane holds him tighter and sucks a bruise into the soft skin behind his ear. eventually he's pushing down ilya's pants and briefs and slicking his hand with lube and slowly, torturously, meanly, stroking ilya's cock in lazy drags. his palm and fingers applying the faintest amount of pressure, dragging over ilya's cock lazily, like he has all the time in the world. and ilya can't fucking do anything about it. shane has one leg clamped over ilya's knee to keep him from moving and has his other hand wrapped firm around ilya's hip. he keeps kissing wet and messy and biting at ilya's throat. keeps stroking just on this side of too little. he maybe spends half an hour like that, nosing at ilya's jawline, murmuring softly to him saying "baby, baby, shh, just like this" and ilya is going fuzzy at the edges. forgetting all about being annoyed abt being on IR, forgetting all about feeling lazy and useless. "let me take care of you, you do so much, work so hard," shane sighs "just enjoy it" and ilya, strangely, does. the world's slowest, lightest, sweetest handjob reducing him to a puddle of goo melted between shane's thighs. when ilya eventually comes it's with a soft whimper and then shane is cleaning up his tummy and kissing his forehead and making him a nice meal and getting him an icepack for his groin.
their first wedding anniversary is probably the most profound moment of ilya "lost in the sauce" rozanov. it's the anniversary of their pikelet wedding -- during the season and not a public date that their team, friends, or the wider hockey world is aware of. it's just a date for them. the day ruby and jade married them with children's plastic rings in stupid costumes. ilya doesn't really tell shane in the lead up to it that he has a plan -- and he doesn't know that shane has one either -- so they're both going to practice on the day and acting coy when asked abt their plans for the evening. (they both made dinner reservations at the same spot where they had their first date post telling Crowell to fuck himself). and so they get home after practice and shane says -- before ilya gets a chance -- "i booked us a dinner for tonight, since it's our anniversary" and ilya is briefly overcome by joy, elation, absolute ridiculous gooey sappy emotion before he says, outloud "fuck!" and shane is blinking like ??? and ilya says "nothing, lyubimy, nothing" and then "i am excited" even though internally he is like fuckfuckfuckmyplans but then they park outside the resturant and he bursts into laughter and shane is again like ??? and ilya explains through hysterical bursts of laughter that he booked the same place and when they get inside they ask to see which table each reservation had assigned to it then pick the best one -- shane's table because he remembered the exact table they sat at that first time. and they eat a beautiful dinner together, without any nonsense from paps or fans, ankles tangled under the table, smiling stupidly at each other over the massive chicken parmesan ilya ordered. and when they get home they kiss all the way from the front door to the bedroom, hands wandering all over, careful, tender touches. and we all know ilya "loverboy" rozanov loves to make love to his husband missionary so shane is on his back with his legs around ilya's hips and his ankles hooked around the small of ilya's back and their fingers are tangled above shane's head on the mattress and their foreheads are pressed together as they breathe into each other's mouths just moving slow slow slow. and ilya gets lost in it. the slow rhythm of their bodies, the wet drag of their mouths, the press of shane's slick tongue, their noses rubbing, their foreheads touching, lips smudging and panting together. it's probably a good half hour of just slow rocking, quiet moans, soft sighs, until ilya picks up the pace, presses in harder, and sends them both over the edge. and ilya fades out for a bit, laying on top of shane's chest, ear pressed to shane's heart, listening to its steady pulse. shane's arms around him, caressing and rubbing his spine. and maybe he rolls shane onto his side and slides back into him and fucks him again twenty minutes later, fingers locked around shane's hip, pulling him tighter, burying growls and whimpers in shane's neck, nipping at his earlobe. he starts crying at some point, but shane is too, though he thinks shane's tears are from pleasure. ilya is just happy and sad all in one confusing tumble. both so joyful he got this and so scared that there had been a moment where he might not have gotten it. and he comes again, rutting deep into his husband's body, clutching him close, wiping his tears away by dragging his cheeks over the wings of shane's shoulder blades. and after, shane rolls over, grabs either side of his face, kisses him all over, forehead and brows and eyelids and mouth and nose and cheeks and chin, and murmurs "love you so much, husband" and ilya garbles something back along that same sentiment and bites at shane's chin. he wants to eat him, devour him whole, swallow him. it's ashame they can't be one being. but this closeness will do.
also like. can we talk about shane sucking ilya's thumb like a pacifier. like when he's too in his head or had a bad day or just needs comfort ilya will curl up against his back spooning him, arm wrapping protectively around shane and thumb slipping into his mouth for shane to suck. sometimes it stays there all night, sometimes just until shane falls asleep, sometimes it's just a little while, or until the movie is over, until shane feels better, until it turns into something else
the I could marry svetlana conversation is diabolical because shane is VISIBLY distressed, eyes shining, vibrating like a plucked string, walls up and braced for impact, and ilya STILL makes him sit through that whole long setup of "we are friends we would be fine" and "I have this problem" and "I like women, yes? and everywhere I go I am surrounded by beautiful women. and these women, they are so fun, and sexy..." before FINALLY BASICALLY telling shane he only ever thinks about him and wants him more than anyone else. and shane has aged five years in the intervening seconds but ilya knew that if he drew out his hurt the eventual balm would be that much sweeter. hurt/comfort but in this relationship ilya is providing both
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the I could marry svetlana conversation is diabolical because shane is VISIBLY distressed, eyes shining, vibrating like a plucked string, walls up and braced for impact, and ilya STILL makes him sit through that whole long setup of "we are friends we would be fine" and "I have this problem" and "I like women, yes? and everywhere I go I am surrounded by beautiful women. and these women, they are so fun, and sexy..." before FINALLY BASICALLY telling shane he only ever thinks about him and wants him more than anyone else. and shane has aged five years in the intervening seconds but ilya knew that if he drew out his hurt the eventual balm would be that much sweeter. hurt/comfort but in this relationship ilya is providing both
How many pushups did Ilya do before Shane arrived for the tuna melt sequence? What cologne did he drench himself in? Do you think he lotioned himself up that morning but left adequate time so he wasnât sticky? Did he keep opening the fridge just to look at the food heâd prepped, making sure it was all still there ready to go? Did he jerk off so that Shane could ride it as long as he wanted? Did he go to morning practice all on edge but also strangely friendly in a way that drew his teammatesâ attention? How many strands of hair did he finger curl to fall just right? How many times did he tell himself this was just his normal hook-up routine? He likes to look good, smell good, put the moves on the people he hooks up with. Why should Hollander be different? Why SHOULDNâT he spend the day with him, enjoy him? Of course Hollander is one of his favorites. Of course they have things they can talk about, and why shouldnât they hang out after fucking and get another round in because the sex is that good? One of the best holes Ilyaâs ever had. The most beautiful face and eyes and frecklesâWhy is that such a big deal? Ilya deserves this actually. Heâs a good person and he deserves it.
"So how's jerking off?" "Ma'am I'm at my parents' house." "So constant? Endless?" "Hah. Pretty much."
Oh I'm suuuuure. Shane with his broken clavicle and Ilya with his bruised ribs were absolutely just having the weirdest phone sex that you can possibly imagine. Shane is propped up on seven different pillows because it jostles his collarbone too much if he doesn't stabilize himself on Mount Fluffmore before he starts jerking it--with his NON DOMINANT HAND to be clear. Half of Ilya's hisses are from arousal and half are from pain. They are equally hot. At one point Shane's shoulder slips and he grunts, "Oh fuck," and Ilya's arm (Hand and dick out of frame because Shane once again asked to see his face. But he can hear everything he needs. Fwip fwip fwip) speeds up and he goes, "Oh God. Are you coming? Did you come?" and Shane is like, "No I moved my shoulder wrong fuck" and he's readjusting the pillows (it's a process) and Ilya is still, now just watching, remarkably patient, and Shane says, "You can, uh, keep going," and Ilya says, "No, I can wait," and then Shane settles and Ilya tilts his head and asks Shane to lift up his shirt and show him his tits because he misses them and Shane still has some bruising and honestly it's kind of gnarly but Ilya turns his camera and shows Shane the bloom of bruises up the side of his body and Shane hisses and says, "Fuck that's hot," and Ilya says, "Show me yours," and so Shane's good arm is occupied with holding up his shirt for a little while as Ilya jerks off to his bruise and his armpit hair and then Ilya says, "Touch yourself touch yourself let me see you come," and then Shane does and the pillows slip again while he's coming and the sound of his groan tips Ilya into the kind of full-body-crunch orgasm that jostles every single one of his bruised ribs and they're both saying owww and coming and saying oh fuck ow and coming.
And Shane, who's still catching his breath, says, "Wow, so this is what we could have had if we'd been hooking up during playoffs all these years," because that's the one thing they've always avoided through mutual unspoken agreement. He says this meaning it to be sarcastic but, in the dark of his bedroom with the sound of the lake out the window and Ilya's breath over the speaker, it comes out far too earnest.
And Ilya's, "Mm, yes," is sweet and low and Shane presses a hand to his bruises and imagines it's Ilya's and he can see Ilya's hand moving up and down the bruising on his side and wonders if he's imagining those touches to be from Shane.
and what if i said that shane hollander doesn't want a threesome with anyone but two ilya rozanovs. what if i said ilya is very horny about this fact and makes a cast of his dick. what if i said that he makes shane suck the silicone mould of his penis whilst he fucks shane with shane on his hands and knees with the dildo gripped between shane's big hands as shane sobs that the silicone doesn't taste right so then they switch and ilya fucks his mouth whilst dildo!ilya fucks his hole (still controlled by actual ilya, he is bent over shane and fucking his hips forward into shane's mouth as he jacks the dildo in and out). and what if i said then shane starts sobbing with ilya's cock in his mouth bc dildo!ilya doesn't feel right in his ass either and he wants ilya to come in his hole. and what if i said ilya just coos meanly at him the whole time, calling him a silly little slut, stroking his hair in mock sympathy then bullying him for being so cock hungry. and what if i said ilya goes back to fucking shane's hole and makes shane lie with his face smooshed into the mattress, sucking on the silicone dildo like a pacifier, just drooling all over himself, still whining that it isn't right and ilya just laughs at him. what if i said all that?
Ilya making a ligma joke to Cliff when they meet up for the first time since Ilya goes to Ottawa. Cliff chokes up & is like bro. These rooks just donât make me laugh like you do broski.
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[touches the ground gingerly] i can feel it⌠the vibrations of simulated sex between two massive men smashing their bodies together in CanadaâŚ.. all is right in the world
since we were talking about shane always needing ilya to fuck him harder here are my thoughts on the matter. (itâs porn btw)
Itâs cottage times after theyâre married. Shane is insatiable. Ilyaâs already fucked him three times today, once in the morning --waking him up with his mouth quick and messy, then again on the couch after lunch, jerking him off sweet and slow, and finally in their bed, a little while ago after edging him for close to an hour. But still he wants more, which is where they are now.
And herein lies the problem, Shane has been so needy lately, and though Ilya would love nothing more than to fuck his husband six ways from sunday at the drop of a hat, he canât, he just canât heâs so tired and the heart is willing but the flesh is getting weaker every second and probably wants a nap at some point. So he planned, planned meticulously to tire his husband out so they could rest a little together. But he miscalculated, shouldâve gotten his dick in him sooner because now Shaneâs been waiting all day for it and he needs more than Ilya can give.
Heâs got Shane on all fours in their bed, and heâs pounding into him as hard as he can but Shane is still whining for more, and has been for a while.
Usually when he gets like this Ilya can find some way to ratchet things up a notch and push Shane over the edge, but not now. Wringing three orgasms out of him already today has just made it harder to get him there for this (hopefully) final time but Ilyaâs just as spent and Shane has tears in his eyes because itâs so much and itâs so good but he needs more.
And Ilya can remember a time when everyone always asked more of him and he hated it but hereâs his husband pleading with him âplease Ilya, just a little more Ilyaâ and he loves it so much canât get enough of it really except that he thinks his dick might chafe if they keep going like this. He doesnât have the right leverage for what Shane needs right now and all the repositioning theyâve done so far hasnât helped just makes Shane squirm and beg while Ilya tries to get the angle thatâll make Shane going blissfully quiet. Heâs got half a mind to just drag the whole mattress of the bed at this point and fuck him there, maybe a change of scenery will help. And as he thinks that he realizes itâs not such a bad idea, just with a little tweak.
So he pulls out of Shaneâwho whines at the lossâslaps his ass once to get his attention and orders him to get off the bed. Grabs his face when Shane just blinks at him, drags their mouths together and whispers some filth about if he wants to get fucked like a bitch then he doesnât deserve the bed, the bed is for his husband not this desperate pleading thing. Lightly slaps his cheek a few times for good measure, Shane is still a little out of it and reeling from the lack of Ilyaâs cock in his ass but he shakes himself out of it and slides off the bed (a little uncoordinated but whatever) Ilya follows behind him, and now theyâre both kneeling on the hardwood floor of their bedroom. Ilya praises him once for his obedience before pushing him down so heâs face first on the floor, ass in the air. Slams back inside and starts hammering away as Shane moans so loud, Ilyaâd be worried if they werenât in the middle of nowhere. He has more leverage now that heâs not scrambling for purchase in their stupidly expensive sheets. Thereâs no rocking of the bed, no slamming of the headboard, just him and Shane pushing into one another on the floor and he knows this will be enough, heâs going to make his husband come again (and fuck up both their knees in the process) anything for his Shane.
Shaneâs voice echos through the rooms as he shouts and comes all over their bedroom floor before collapsing into a heap, panting all the while. Ilya would let that be it but heâs feeling a little mean, he pushes down on Shaneâs ass, pressing his over sensitive cock into the floor and smearing in the mess he made. He holds him there as he jerks himself off over Shaneâs ass, using the hand keeping him pressed to the floor to spread him open and get a good look at his sweet abused hole. And thatâs it for Ilya, the sight of what Shane was begging for enough to send him tumbling over the edge too. He comes all over Shaneâs pretty pink ass.
Then theyâre both lying on the ground next to their bed which is stupid, so Ilya uses his last burst of energy to gently lift Shane back on the bed and crawl in after him. Lets them both catch their breath for a moment before saying,
âHollander, are you trying to kill me?â
Shane smacks him on the arm for that, theyâre not Hollander and Rozanov anymore, Ilya knows that he just needed to see the little crease in Shaneâs brow that meant he was himself again, no longer clouded by desperate need. Ilya smiles at him, twines their fingers together as they lie side by side.
Shane smirks at him and raises an eyebrow. âWhat? too much for you?â
Ilya just laughs. Pulls Shane closer to him, wraps his arms around him.
âItâd be too much for a whole team, fuck Shane you get so crazy for it.â
He loves that they can speak like this with each other now. There used to be a time when Ilya had to tread carefully, the smallest joke about the magnitude of Shaneâs desire would get him to clam up faster than anything. Always worried he was too much, too weird. Not anymore though, now heâll happily try to climb Ilya any chance he gets and no amount of jokes or imitation gripes from Ilya will get him to stop. Heâs perfect.
Shane purses his lips.
âSo what Iâm hearing is you donât want to go again.â
Ilya groans.
âShane. If we keep going like this my dick will literally fall off.â
Shane pouts, mock pity in his eyes.
âPoor baby,â he coos, âneed me to kiss it better?â
shane voice what if i was a rookie and you were my captain and you forced me to my knees to suck your dick and then made fun of me for how eager i am to use my mouth on you and made me thank you for giving me your cum and maybe called me some really bad words as well
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shane texting ilya after a metros game like: im so fucking tired of carrying this entire team on my back like fuck sure we won tonight but i'd have had a goddamn hat trick if stevens hadn't been off fucking sides like at what point is it easier for me to be the only guy on the fucking ice at least then no one is gonna miss my fucking passes
shane 2 minutes later to the media: oh for sure it's a team effort, we all do our best to contribute đ
hayden pike has this hetero-centric idealistic fantasy of finding jackie a friend that is also shaneâs spouse. he wants to be a couple of couples. the âwivesâ hang out and are best friend and the âhusbandsâ hang out.
when women donât work out, and heâs forced to find shane a boyfriend, itâs still with this idea in his head that shaneâs boyfriend will just be an extension of shane like jackie is for him. jackie and shaneâs man will be friends. so that hayden doesnât lose his Shane Time (tm). heâs trying to find shane a man who can be his Wife and jackieâs friend, thus completing their perfect heteronormative group of four. without disrupting existing dynamics.
he canât fathom shane getting with a Man. a Bro, a Jock, a Man who is a guy who is plainly a guy, ya know. thatâs why ilya messes with his head so much. ilya, in haydenâs mind (and in reality, but pike is going to get bitter in his own head), ilya rozanov is better than him in everything. and the crux of it is that ilya gets to have shane. ilya gets to infringe on what hayden thought only he had the special privilege of getting. in haydenâs mind, shane is a prize and ilya won. but also back to the point, ilya is very clearly a man and in a gay relationship with shane. a gay relationship that hayden canât comfortably assign hetero roles to (he doesnâtâcanâtâimagine shane âbeing the girlâ and rozanov messes with both this idea and the fantasy. if shane would just dump him and get with a yoga guy, or a personal trainer, or any number of more âacceptableâ gay men, then hayden can have his happy little life and his happy little wife and his happy little second wife(shane) who also has his own happy little wife.
ilya gets along with jackie great, and the kids, but heâs a man who would rather hang out with his boyfriend/husband and âthe guysâ than sit and be jackieâs little friend who is married to shane. thatâs whatâs at the core of haydenâs continued dislike of ilya.
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