we’re excited to announce shane summer fest, a 10-week summer fest highlighting our boy shane (with special appearances from ilya)! it's a full summer of shane, baby!
no sign-ups required to participate! just pick any prompt from the list above, and create whatever inspires you.
dates: june 21 – august 29, 2026
tag: #shanesummerfest
please tag us so we can reblog your work!
all types of content are welcome — fic, art, edits, gifs, etc!
whether you do one prompt or a few, we’d love to see what you create! see you this summer ☀️
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
Week 6 of @shanesummerfest oh my lord we're still going:D theme is..
Giraffe tongues feel weird. Anyway it's a safari vacation:) Shane runs a strict program for the first half. She had everything planned out months ago. Second half is Lilya's and they do absolutely nothing but relax at the nicest beachside villa ever. Both are perfect and they love it.
Summary: Shane goes to Los Cabos with J.J. and Hayden (again) and is accosted by a handsome, married stranger. He’s only so strong, you guys.
Spoiler Alert: There is absolutely no cheating. ;)
---
“You are too pretty to be here all alone.”
Over the booming music of the Wabo Cabo Cantina, Shane barely heard the man’s terrible pick-up line, but an unconscious smile grew upon his face.
The man leaned against the bar next to Shane’s stool and appeared relaxed, his shoulders loose, his expression open and heated. Even in the shadows of the dark bar, Shane could tell the man was incredibly hot. Sandy curls brushing his forehead; hazel-blue eyes glistening with amusement and delight; a crooked but radiant smile framed by a rugged five o’clock shadow; all set upon a disarmingly handsome face.
He also wore a godawful Hawaiian shirt, but it was unbuttoned at the top to showcase his impossibly sculpted pecs and the start of tight abs.
Shane was ravenous. He hadn’t been with anyone for longer than he cared to admit, and this man was doing it for him.
But it sounded like there was a game happening, and Shane never went easy on an opponent.
“That’s your opening line?” Shane finished his Corona in one swig. “I heard better when I was nineteen.”
The man shrugged and leaned forward, his words now a sensual purr. “Did you? Because I think you do not appreciate words. You like action.”
A Russian accent curled about his words in a seductive manner, and Shane tried his best not to show how well it worked for him.
“And just what sort of actions do you think I appreciate?”
The man smiled, and his grin lit up his entire face. Then, he leaned closer until his lips were inches from Shane’s and then whispered, “I think you appreciate it quick and rough in the bathroom in the back. Then after the edge is off, we will go back to my hotel room, and I will use my hands, my mouth, my cock to take you apart piece by piece. And when I finally give you what you want, you will cry out not in ecstasy but in relief – that you have finally found the one who can satisfy you like no other can or ever will.”
Shane swallowed, gulped really. “You, uh, you seem full of yourself.”
“You could be full of me.”
And then he fucking winked.
Shane buried his head into his hands. He walked right into that one.
The man ordered a Corona and got one for Shane as well. Shane hesitated when it came back. “I don’t generally take drinks from strangers.”
“Then let’s not be strangers,” the man offered, along with his hand. “Ilya Rozanov.”
“Shane Hollander,” he replied, but he paused at the glimmer on the man’s finger.
A wedding ring.
“Problem?” Ilya asked.
“You’re married.”
Ilya shrugged and took a swig of his beer. “Yes. Happily. Will you still let me fuck you?”
Normally, Shane wouldn’t, but it had been so long since he had a good, hard fuck. “I guess. My husband hasn’t been doing it for me for some time – ” He waved his own ring in Ilya’s face. “ – so we’ll see how you do.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “Three days.”
Shane snorted.
“Your husband has not been doing it for you for three days,” Ilya continued, eyebrows raised, “because you decided to go to Los Cabos with your friends.”
He motioned toward the packed dance floor behind them, where strobe lights and billowy smoke accompanied the throng drunken dancers. Among them, somewhere, were J.J. and Hayden, having the time of their lives.
Shane typically avoided drunken masses, and the last time he was at this bar, he didn’t spend much time on the dance floor, either.
“Yes, well, three days is practically a drought.”
“So you called your incredibly sexy, incredibly generous husband – ”
Shane rolled his eyes; Ilya continued, undeterred.
“ – knowing that when you said you missed him, that he would fly aaaaaallllll the way from Ottawa to here, to fuck you in a dirty bathroom where you one time received poor service from Mexico top.”
That was part of it, for sure, but they spent months apart in the first decade of their relationship. Now that they were out, married, and playing together, they rarely spent a night alone. It didn’t seem so daunting when Hayden and J.J. invited him for a guys’ trip to Mexico, and they were having fun, for the most part. While he wasn’t big on night clubs, he enjoyed the various resort activities, the yoga, and even the whale-watching excursion.
But the nights were pure hell. He missed Ilya terribly. No cold feet on his ankle, no strong arms around his waist. It reminded him of being on the road when he was still playing in Montreal and Ilya was first in Boston and later in Ottawa.
No more. They didn’t need to spend any more nights alone, and Shane didn’t want to.
By the tender look in Ilya’s eyes, Shane knew his husband didn’t want to, either.
Shane leaned forward until his lips ghosted Ilya’s ear, “It worked.”
Ilya inhaled sharply, then let it out slowly. He turned his head until his lips hovered over Shane’s again. “Because you like action, Shane Hollander, and whenever, wherever you need me, I will come. Always.”
Shane wasn’t drunk. He’d only finished one beer, so when the tears came, they were honest and true. “I love you so fucking much.”
“And you are very pretty,” Ilya purred and moved away to take a swig of his beer, “too pretty to be left alone at bar. Good thing I came to keep you company, hm?”
Shane blinked and then reached for his own beer, only for Ilya to swoop in unexpectedly and seize his lips then. Only once Shane’s head spun and his jeans became incredibly tight, did Ilya pull away.
.
“I missed you so fucking much, moy lyubimyy. Ya lyublyu tebya.”
A minute passed, then another. Ilya took another swig of his beer; Shane ignored his.
“So we are going to fuck in the bathroom, right?” Shane asked, a bit whiny. “And then go back the hotel? Those weren’t just words, were they, Rozanov?”
Ilya turned toward Shane, a baiting smirk upon his face, and then he lifted up his eyebrows as if to say, “You need to ask?”
Shane grabbed his wrist and dragged him off the stool and then down the long bar. As they pushed their way into the bathroom, Shane caught Ilya’s wild, carefree smile, and he resolved to never take a vacation without Ilya again.
Fin
A/N: They are a pair, your honor. They cannot be separated for a period of three days. ❤️🖤🤍
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
Prompt: Brat Summer. ~470 words. @shanesummerfest (Post-TLG.)
Ilya had no idea how she managed this, but Svetlana actually convinced Shane to go to an EDM festival with them. Not only that, but she also picked out his outfit earlier that night.
That was how Ilya came to be standing at a music festival between Svetlana and Shane; his Shane, with his thighs out, guns out, dressed in the tiniest 3-inch shorts, a neon muscle tee, and a backwards cap. The three of them were covered in glow sticks.
Ilya had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Shane didn't really like clubs or parties or concerts or anything fun. But this music festival was held in a large open field. There was even a 5K course for runners set up around the main stage, which, of course, they raced around on a few times without breaking a sweat or missing a beat—heavy dance music bumping to the rhythm of their hearts in the background.
After one of their laps, Ilya left for a bit to get them ice-cold water bottles. When he came back, Shane was shirtless.
"Malysh, what happened to your shirt?" Ilya was almost afraid to ask in the off-chance Shane didn't realize he was shirtless.
"Oh, I was overheating, and Svetlana told me to just take it off. So I did."
"Mm, I see. Do you know where it went?" he asked, amused.
"No idea." Shane shrugged.
Then, Svetlana jumped in to pull a shirtless Shane towards the photo booths.
Ilya still didn't know how she was doing this. But what he did know was that there was even less of a chance for him to figure it out, because Shane, with his abs out, nips out, had just entered the chat.
---
At 3 am, after the set was done and they'd responsibly procured a concert tee for Shane to wear for the rest of the night (for Ilya's sanity), one of Svetlana's other friends invited them to an after-party. Ilya was just opening his mouth to say that he and Shane would be turning in for the night before Shane beat him to it.
"We should go!"
"What? Really?" Ilya replied incredulously.
"Yeah! Svetlana said it'll be fun."
Before Ilya could respond, Shane excitedly exclaimed, "Oooo! Tacos!" and immediately took off at full sprint to join a late-night food truck line.
Ilya could only blink. He thought back on their night so far and realized that he'd never seen Shane like this: so careless, so wild, and so free.
It was nice.
So this time, instead of questioning it, Ilya thought it best to just follow suit and let go. But before he took off to join Shane in the taco line, he turned to Svetlana to say, "I don't deserve you."
"Da, you really don't," she replied with a smile.
+ (A/N: This was all vibes, but this is what brat summer is to me: going out, partying late, dressing a bit slutty, being a bit messy, and ultimately, letting go.) + (tsym @wckdtwn for the beta)
Summary: Set during the World Junior Championship. There’s a goat in the Russian coach’s hotel room. Shane and Ilya have absolutely nothing to do with it, of course.
A/N: If there is a pun, I will find it and exploit it.
But here they were, hiding in the tiny area of the ice machine, watching as Ilya’s coach swiped himself into his hotel room.
Ilya almost put a hand over Hollander’s mouth to quiet him, but he wouldn’t. He wanted to hear every sound Shane Hollander made.
Suddenly, there was a crash, followed by a bloodcurdling screech that shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, and then Coach Kozlov burst out of his room. Rushed, angered Russian shouts snarled from his flattened lips, and his tirade continued until every door opened and players for the Russian World Juniors’ Team flooded the hallway.
In the silent moment between their coach’s anger and the players’ shock, a tiny little bleat sounded.
A goat’s bleat.
Shane snorted then and slapped his hand over his mouth. His attempts to quiet his laughter made his shoulders shake. Thankfully, every single Russian player was laughing, too, including Ilya.
After all, Kozlov meant goat in Russian.
Out of the coach’s room hopped a tiny little brown and white goat, technically a kid, and it began moving from player to player in search of food and pets.
Kozlov’s already harsh face set in a bitter countenance, and his angered shouts once more shook the hall walls.
“What’s he saying?” Shane whispered, lingering at Ilya’s shoulder while Ilya leaned against the cubbie’s wall. It would have been weird for him to keep hiding.
Ilya jerked a shoulder. “Not much. Is threating bag skates but wants us to snitch on prank person.”
Hollander’s face paled; he almost looked apologetic. Ilya wanted to kiss the expression off his face, which was a total normal thing to want to do to your hot hockey rival.
Of course, most players probably didn’t think their rivals were hot, but Ilya was not most players.
And neither was Shane Fucking Hollander.
Ilya still couldn’t believe Hollander knocked on his door earlier that evening, wearing a navy and gold “Junior Gaels” hoodie from his AAA team, hood up to cover his features, glasses on to hide his face.
Ilya let him in, intrigued, and then Hollander said to him without preamble, “Your coach is an asshole. Wanna prank him?”
They’d had one conversation outside of the practice arena in which Hollander scolded Ilya for smoking. Ilya had teased him about potentially losing to Russia in the championship game and then checked out his ass.
It wasn’t bad.
Hollander penguin-waved and then went the Russians’ team open practice, probably where he heard Kozlov constant rant to the team. Ilya returned the favor and attended the Canadian team’s practice, and that was it.
Until Hollander showed up at Ilya’s hotel room that night.
Ilya was distracted by those dark glasses sitting upon those adorable freckled cheeks.
“Rozanov,” Hollander said, a little annoyed, “I have a fucking goat downstairs. Do you want to prank Kozlov or not?”
It was at that very moment, Ilya Rozanov knew he would one day love Shane Hollander.
Now, following their execution, Kozlov closed in, and Hollander shoved himself into the small space between the wall and the ice machine, just out of sight of any searching eyes.
Ilya remained aloof, arms crossed, shoulder pressed against the wall and blocking Kozlov’s entrance into the tiny space.
Kozlov was shorter than Ilya but not by much, and he glared up with the fury of a man wronged. “Do you know who did this, Rozanov? Tell me, and I may spare you a fate worse than death.”
So Ilya told him. “Hollander.”
Kozlov blinked. “Hollander?”
“Hollander,” Ilya repeated. “Shane Hollander brought a goat here from a friend’s farm, and I told the front desk receptionist that I lost my key. I gave her your room number when asking for a replacement, and we used it to put the goat in your room.”
Kozlov’s eyes narrowed; a bitter frown set upon his old, hard features. “You are the captain. I could understand you taking the blame for others, but adding Hollander to your story? Too much.” Kozlov turned toward the team. “Enjoy tonight. Tomorrow, you will all pay for this.”
A collective groan filled the hallway, and then one by one, the players retreated to their rooms. The goat pranced down the hall, no doubt soon to be picked up by the hotel staff and returned to the location on its collar.
Ilya waited until the hall was empty before turning toward the ice machine.
“I heard my name,” Hollander said as he emerged from his hiding spot. “What did you tell him?”
Ilya shrugged. “Truth. He did not believe that Canadian golden boy would put goat in his room.”
“Can’t imagine why.” Shane thumbed toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. “You hungry? I know a place that makes the best quinoa salad.”
That combination of words should have been illegal – best, quinoa, and salad – but Ilya was caught up on something else.
“Shane Hollander wants to take me on date?”
Hollander’s eyes blew wide; his voice raised three octaves. “W-What? No! I was just – I thought you might – ”
He was so cute. God, Ilya was going to marry him one day, wasn’t he?
“You thought I might enjoy best quinoa with you on date.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Shut up!” Hollander lunged forward to cover Ilya’s mouth and glance down the thankfully still empty hallway. “People could hear us – ew!”
Ilya licked Hollander’s palm and freed his mouth. “Tell you what. We go for friend dinner, but if you marry me, we call this first date. Hm?”
Hollander wiped his hand on his jeans as he started toward the stairwell. “I’m not going to marry you, Rozanov.”
“You so sure? Fine. When we married, you will have to wear shirt to every practice for one season – one full season – that says, ‘My Husband is the GOAT.’”
Hollander held the door for Ilya. “The NHL will never allow rival players to be together. They definitely won’t let them get married.”
“Not their choice.” Ilya followed him down the stairs, their tinny voices echoing against the walls. “You will be lucky man, Hollander. Will have GOAT husband, best at hockey and sex.”
Hollander blushed and let out a incredulous laugh. “Really?”
“Really.” A wink. “You will see.”
*^*^*
September 2021
“Oh, geez, Hollzy, what bet did you lose?” Bood asked midway through pulling on his shoulder pads.
A step behind Shane, Ilya couldn’t help but beam. He gave Shane a week to settle into the Centaurs’ locker room, but preseason was starting soon. And a bet was a bet.
So three-time Stanley Cup winner, two-time Hart Trophy winner, Conn Smythe winner Shane Fucking Hollander walked into the Centaurs locker room wearing a t-shirt with the words, “My Husband is the GOAT” on the front.
On the back, for good measure, Ilya put his number and added their last name – Hollander-Rozanov.
Shane shared a quick, commiserating glance with Bood before launching into the story. He ended it with waving his wedding ring, “– and thirteen years later, here we are.”
“What’s your husband the GOAT in?” Troy asked, and the locker room laughed.
Ilya shrugged, effortless. “Hockey and sex.”
“Ilya!”
“What?” Ilya said innocently to his husband. “Is true. Are you going to deny I am not good at the hockey or the sex?”
Shane let out a fondly exasperated sigh. “Yeah, okay, you are the GOAT in one of those things, but it’s not hockey.”
The Centaurs groaned and threw towels at them, but Ilya laughed. He pulled off his jacket to reveal his own T-shirt, which matched Shane’s save the number on the back.
His husband, too, was the GOAT, and game recognized game.
Fin
A/N 2: In this universe, Shane and Ilya got together earlier and married at, like, twenty-one since gay marriage was legal in Ontario in 2003 and across Canada in 2005. Ilya only made Shane wear the shirt after they were outed. They would have file taxes jointly, so that's probably not a realistic headcanon, but ❤️🖤🤍.
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
Shane is packing for their exhibition game in LA when they get the text.
Ya Herd? (Centaurs GC + Harris & Gen)
Harris: [img202.png]
It’s a lime green image, with text in fuzzy, low-quality font (all lowercase letters, Shane thinks, resisting the urge to feel critical over text grammar with mostly success).
hey brats
its my 29th birthday
friday sept 13, 2024 9pm | flicks club, LA
city sewer slut’s the vibe
rsvp gen (555) 555-5555
“Oh, fuck yes!” Ilya exclaims from downstairs. Seconds later, he’s running up the steps and bursting into their bedroom. “Shane! We have to go.”
Shane frowns, looking at the text again. “What's a ‘city sewer slut'"?”
Ilya rolls his eyes, flopping down on the bed and scrolling through his phone. “Is like, a line from Charli xcx song. Brat summer. Trashy, party-girl aesthetic.” He finds an image and shows it to Shane. In the picture, a woman is wearing a cropped lime green shirt that reads ‘brat,’ along with a scrap of fabric that can only charitably be called a skirt, sunglasses, and a fuzzy bucket hat.
“And people dress like this on purpose?” Shane asks, genuinely confused.
Ilya laughs, covering his wide grin, like he doesn’t want to hurt Shane’s feelings (too late). “Malysh, do not worry. I don’t think anyone expects you to dress in brat attire.”
Shane feels a small flicker of annoyance. He knows people generally see him as a square, a fuddy-duddy. But something about the way Ilya is so dismissive about it, like Shane wouldn’t- couldn’t – partake in the theme, it stings a little.
Which is why he’s called Rose. Shortly after they’d landed, Shane had excused himself to meet up with her, Ilya pouting and muttering about it only slightly.
They’re browsing through the racks of a very upscale consignment store in West Hollywood. To say Rose was gleeful about helping Shane choose a club outfit would be an understatement.
“What about this?” she asks, holding up a lime green mesh muscle tank.
Shane wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to be…” he tries to think of the word. “Twinkified? If that makes sense. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I get enough of that as it is.” Three years after being outed, Shane’s still the favorite subject of the sports pundits, and not always because of his Corsi number. They love to pick apart his interviews, his paparazzi photos, his gestures on the ice, calling him “catty” for a chirp or dissecting his haircut in a way that Ilya never has to deal with. “I just want to be myself.”
Rose smiles softly. “Of course, babe. You’re a jock. Let’s find something that embraces that. But maybe just a little slutty?”
Shane huffs a little laugh. Rose always sees him for who he is, and she gives him a little room to stretch into what he could be. “Okay. Just a little slutty."
They try on several outfits, but Shane is drawn to a pair of black Balenciaga ski cargo pants that sit low on his muscular hips. Rose finds a cropped black short sleeve muscle tee with ribbing to go with it. It leaves a thin band of skin around his toned waist exposed.
“Shane. Hollander,” she gasps in mock scandal. “When did you get this?”
She’s referring to the Cyrillic lettering tattoo on his hipbone, just next to his iliac furrow, the one that reads "Илья́."
“Oh, uh. I got for his birthday,” he says, flushing. Ilya had been fucking feral about it for weeks, pupils blown wide every time he saw it. Shane had to push him away to keep him from mouthing on it until it healed. If it weren’t for the playoffs and their temporary sex hiatus, it probably wouldn’t have.
Rose giggles. “That is actually the brattiest thing ever.” Rose adds one more item, a gaudy looking chain belt that hangs over his thigh opposite the tattoo. She admires her work, chin in hand. “You look so sexy, babe," she says, a hint of pride in her voice.
And Shane kind of agrees.
The next day, after they win their pre-season game against LA, Ilya is dressed and lounging in one of the wingback arm chairs in their hotel room scrolling on his phone when Shane steps out of the bathroom in his club outfit. He’s added a pair of stylish white sneakers and sunglasses. His rose gold chain necklace, the one that matches Ilya’s, rests on top of his shirt.
Ilya, dressed in a lime green muscle tee, cheeks dusted with flecks of green glitter, locks his phone and swings his feet down automatically. “We are meeting in the lobby in ten- ” He freezes, eyes wide.
“You think we have time to grab a quick drink at the bar?” Shane asks innocently, slipping a black leather shoulder bag on.
Ilya stands up, jaw still slack. His body moves instinctively toward Shane, as if of its own accord, until he’s got Shane cornered against the entryway wall of the hotel room. He cages Shane in with his muscled arms.
Shane ducks his head shyly. “What?”
Ilya shakes his head a little, as if in disbelief, and smiles softly. His calloused fingers trace the lines of his own name tattooed on Shane’s hip. “You look…fuck, Shane. I am trying to think of excuse as to why we will be bailing tonight.”
Shane pushes Ilya’s chest away playfully. “We’re not bailing. It’s Harris’ birthday.” He grabs his wallet, tucking a key card into it.
“Harris who?” Ilya murmurs, trailing Shane into the hotel hallway as if in a trace. “Ty takoy seksualnyy,*” he whispers into Shane’s ear as they wait for the elevator. It dings, the doors open, and Shane tugs him in. Ilya wraps his arms around Shane from behind and nuzzles his neck. Together, they stare at their reflections in the elevator mirror.
When the elevator doors open in the lobby, Shane has glitter all over his nose. And chin. And neck.
Shane loves to chirp her wife so hard if she fucks up on the ice. Of course, this is just so Lilya can scold her while fucking her about it once they get home. This has worked every single time.
Not even summer hockey is safe from this. They're just.. Like That with each other. All the time.
Ft. Hazy and Bood realizing they're never going to escape these two and their weird locker room foreplay:')
Our song of the day is – Kygo & Whitney Houston - Higher Love
Post TLG; Husbands Hollanov
@hollanovmicrofic prompt: Gorgeous // @shanesummerfest prompt: Cottage // @hollanovbingo prompt: Rose // Word Count: 542~
MORE Hollanov Bingo 4 for 4 🎉
⸙
A magical place on earth? Ask Ilya this question and he only has one answer—their Cottage. He's currently hiding in one of the guest rooms trying his best with some craft materials and a bucket of roses.
He came in a day earlier telling Shane he'd volunteer to clean (just) a little bit before they settle in for their annual summer break. The offer was more than welcome and Shane didn't really think too much about it.
Now, back to his arts and crafts. He has: card stocks of various colors, markers, scissors and, a shimmery ribbon.
What does Ilya have in mind? Love notes. He wants to surprise his husband with a dozen written notes filled with the cheesiest compliments and confessions he can ever think of.
Step 1: Use the card stocks to cut up 12 hearts. It should be big enough to write on it but not overly huge for the sake of the roses.
Step 2: Poke a small hole on to the paper hearts. You need to be able to string through the shimmery ribbons.
Step 3: Carefully tie each note on to the rose's stem.
And then he thoughtfully writes:
❤ I appreciate you
❤ I feel butterflies whenever I see you smile
❤ My husband is the most gorgeous
❤ Thank you for always being patient with me
❤ I think about you every second of every day
❤ Thank you for inspiring me to be better
❤ My happy place is always you
❤ I melt whenever we kiss
❤ We are so cute together
❤ More kisses and hugs for you everyday
❤ I'm all yours
❤ All of me loves all of you
Satisfied, he sets his craft aside. He needs to make sure the guest room is spot less before Shane arrives. Otherwise, the cleaning excuse would've been a bust. “Alright,” he pats himself on the back for a job well done. “That will do it.”
⸙
The homey smell of breakfast greeted Shane as he opens the front door: eggs, toasted bread and, some pancakes maybe.
“Hi,” he called out. His destination is towards the dinning room where the table has already been set-up.
“How was your drive?” Ilya asks with 2 cups of coffee in hand.
“Not bad,” he sips after the response. Thankful for the coffee to boost him up for the day. “Early morning. Peaceful. No traffic.”
“Sounds good, gorgeous” sat in front of his husband. Ilya beams. “You can take a nap after breakfast.”
“I do plan to do so.”
“Oh!” Ilya gently exclaimed. “Wait here.”
Shane can feel the blush spreading through his face. He can't help but grin wider as Ilya walks up in front of him with a dozen roses. The romantic gesture, in their home—the cottage no less, is making him feel so much intense emotion. No other person can make his heart burst but Ilya.
“Please accept my present.”
“Thank you for the roses.” Okay, this is making him cry. Shane sniffs. “You didn't have to.”
“But I want to.”
The wonderful notes brought Shane so much joy. As he reads through each one, his smile grew wider and wider. Their first day of summer is off to a fantastic start.
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
