#boston 2016

November 2016 - Boston 

Ilya stood facing his fridge, running over what he’d just bought from the grocery store earlier for what felt like the hundredth time. Ingredients for a tuna melt sat on one shelf, ginger ale lining the one below it. It screamed at him like a sign with the obvious plastered all over it. Shane had never been to his home before and it took Ilya the better part of a week to think all of this through. Since he never really did this kind of thing for anyone… well, ever; he began pacing between the different rooms in his house making sure everything was alright. 

Ilya eventually found himself in the bathroom, nervously staring at his reflection when the doorbell finally rang, followed instantly by a knock. He ran his fingers through his hair one last time as he walked to unlock the door, coming face to face with Shane Hollander. Ilya gestured for Shane to come in.

“Do I need to take my shoes off?” Shane asked. 

“No, you’re good.” Ilya couldn’t help but smile as he followed behind Shane, noticing the way he took in the house. 

“Wow!” Shane let out a breath in awe, turning around to face Ilya.  “This place is great. Did you get this built or did you know who did?”

Ilya’s grin grew wider. “Mr. Real Estate.”

“That’s…not what I meant, I just—do you think we need to talk?”

“Mm, no. After,” Ilya said, silencing him with a kiss. 

He felt safe, letting his body fall closer to Shane’s, taking in his scent as their tongues found that easy rhythm they were used to. Ilya lifted Shane slightly, adjusting him to sit on the counter and he noticed how quickly’s Shane’s legs wrapped around his waist. He picked him up as they continued to kiss, carrying him over to his room and laying him on the bed gently while he stood, watching. They were both hungry for each other, Shane quickly undressing without breaking eye contact and folding his clothes off to the side. 

Ilya could feel the shift in the air, or within him, he couldn’t fully comprehend it. Shane’s breathing grew quicker as he sat up on his knees, running his hands over Ilya’s already bare chest. He let out a small gasp as he pulled Ilya’s pants down, realizing he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. Shane took Ilya’s already half hard cock into his mouth, starving and impatient. 

“Jesus, Hollander,” Ilya said. He placed a hand on the side of Shane’s face, letting his thumb brush over the freckles just underneath his eye. 

Shane closed his eyes as he continued and a few moments later Ilya swallowed before saying, “Stop.” Shane pulled off, waiting. 

Ilya tried to let his voice come out confident as he said,“I’d like to look at you, I think. With you on top?”

“Okay,” Shane said, eyes darting from side to side. Ilya understood what Shane was probably thinking in that moment. They didn’t normally do things this way. Ilya had faced him while they fucked before, but today he wanted Shane straddling on top. 

He climbed onto the bed and adjusted himself against his stacked pillows. He slapped his thighs, inviting Shane over to him with a small grin. 

A few moments later, when they were fucking, Shane braced himself with one hand on the wall above Ilya’s head, and his other hand on his chest. Ilya used his own hand to cover Shane’s, giving a small squeeze to his fingers. He never took his eyes off of Shane’s face except for a brief moment when he wanted to see where they connected. He was too mesmerized by the way Shane’s freckles looked in this light and his hands kept themselves busy gliding over the stretch marks that spread over Shane’s ass. 

“Perfect, sweetheart,” Ilya said, breathless and in awe. Shane’s chest grew warm. He saw the look in Ilya’s eyes and rode him harder, his mouth suddenly glued to his. 

“Fuck,” Ilya grunted, and without any warning, he flipped them both over so he was on top now. He stared down at Shane, his arms bracing the side of his head. He bent down, kissing his nose as he continued to thrust into him, watching as Shane’s eyes fluttered. 

Ilya could tell Shane was about to orgasm and the look on his face brought him over the brink. They both came and Ilya dropped to his elbows, kissing Shane messily. 

After, they took turns getting cleaned up and when Ilya walked back into his room, he found Shane standing there in the middle of it. He looked like he was waiting for instructions and Ilya found it endearing. He walked over to his bed, fixing himself under the covers as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. 

Shane walked over and made himself comfortable, hesitant as he said, “I should go.” Ilya kissed up his arm, to his shoulder, than to his neck. He wanted to live there. He wanted to keep this moment for as long as he could. 

He shrugged his shoulder, feigning indifference as he suggested, “Or you could stay.”

“Stay?” Shane’s smile off to the side.

“Here, tonight,” Ilya started back, taking a pause before continuing. “I’m not done with you yet,” he teased, nudging himself a little closer to Shane. “Anyway, we have afternoon game tomorrow, so. No morning practice.”

Shane’s voice was nervous, “I told Hayden—” 

“Is Hayden your mother?”

“No,” Shane huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“No, he’s not?”

“Fuck off.”

“Who cares what you told Hayden?” Ilya watched as Shane started slowly nodding his head, smiling. He didn’t know if he were doing it right, this whole making him want to stay thing. He wish he had the right words but he couldn’t think of anything more than to repeat, “stay” as he kissed him. 

“Okay.” Shane said, smiling at him. Ilya’s heart felt warm as he kept his gaze. It felt like if he took his eyes off Shane, he might get lost.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Shane repeated in a whisper. 

Ilya woke up not long later, holding Shane to his chest and his head on Ilya’s arm. His eyes adjusted as he studied each detail of Shane right before him. He took notice of the small freckle on the back of his earlobe. He wanted to press a kiss to it but he didn’t want to wake him. He was afraid that if he did, he might change his mind and go. 

He inhaled the scent of him, nuzzling his chin a little closer to Shane’s neck as he tried to sync his breath to his. He could feel Shane stirring awake when he quickly closed his eyes again, then fluttering them open and pretending to only just now be waking up. Shane turned and looked at him, smiling. 

“I’m hungry,” Ilya said, knowingly. He thought of what he had planned.

“For what?” 

“For food you pervert,” Ilya squeezed his chest and Shane let out a playful “Hey!”

Ilya tossed Shane a pair of his pants and his shirt and walked out of his bedroom to the kitchen, hoping Shane would still follow. To his relief, he did. 

Ilya had wanted to make him a tuna melt after he remembered seeing somewhere that they were a Canadian comfort food. He had no idea if Shane even liked them, but he did know that he always liked ginger ale. Out of everything he thought to do on this day, he was confident that he at least got that right. 

He slid over a can as Shane found his place on the barstool. He could see an unsure yet appreciative smile spread across his face. 

“You like tuna melt?”

Shane’s mouth quirked to the side, a blush crawling over his face. “You want to make me a tuna melt?” 

Ilya wanted to grab his face right then and kiss all along the pink that dusted his freckles. Of course I do, idiot. Can’t you see I’m in love with you? is what he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Shane often looked like he could and would  run off at any moment and Ilya didn’t want to startle him. 

He settled for more nonchalance as he said, “I was gonna make one for me but I could make two.” 

He turned around to grab what he needed from the fridge. “Ginger ale cold enough?”

“Yeah, uh— it’s great.” Shane looked flustered, as though he were trying to hold back his weariness of it all. Ilya knew that they’d never been together like this before and he was so afraid of fucking it up. He wanted to show Shane he was safe. Safe here with him. 

“Good.” 

Shane watched as he put everything together, slipping the tuna melts into the oven to warm up. “Food should be done soon. We can sit, if you want,” Ilya said, walking around towards the couch and turning on the tv. He put on the hockey game, hoping the familiarity would help Shane feel more grounded. 

They both sat on the couch with their arms crossed, keeping a distance between each other as they talked about Ryan Price, a quiet — as Ilya knew him— but scary player, and the team he played for. 

Shane made a joke which made Ilya chuckle. “And they say you’re not funny.”

“They do?” Shane asked, sounding a bit offended. Ilya wanted to tease him. 

“Yeah. They say you’re boring too.” 

“Who says that?!”

“Me.” Ilya felt his heart settle with a sense of accomplishment as he saw Shane smile from the corner of his eyes. 

Shane turned over to face Ilya, resting one arm on the backside of the couch. “What’s your uh— favorite city to play in on the road?”

“Mmm, I like New York ‘cause, it’s New York. They fucking hate me there.”

‘They hate you everywhere.” Shane said matter of factly.

“Eh, no. Not Florida. Is full of Boston people.” Ilya continued rubbing his ear, trying to ground himself. “You?” 

“Uh— I like Ottawa ‘cause it’s my hometown. Toronto, Winnipeg, I’m happy they have a team again.”

Ilya felt a smile spread across his face as his eyes turned to the side. 

He huffed out a small laugh. Shane caught him and asked, “What? Are those boring answers?”

“Yes.” Ilya smiled even more. He wanted to tell Shane that he actually liked boring. That he wanted it more than anything. 

“Well, I like the hot spots, too.”

“Mmm,” Ilya raised his eyebrows, even more interested now.

“Hot like weather hot,” Shane quickly made note.

“Ah—okay.” Ilya paused briefly. “LA is hot. Hot women.” he offered, seeing if Shane would notice the bait. 

“Yeah, sure, I mean. There are hot women everywhere.” Shane turned slightly to face the TV again. 

Ilya wanted to try to understand more of Shane, but couldn’t out right ask him. “There is a girl here I like very much. Svetlana.” His eyes darted to the side, gaging Shane’s reaction. He only gave a simple “Oh.”

“She’s old friend from Russia,” Ilya said, reassuringly. “Her father was famous goal tender of Soviet team. She knows eeeverything about hockey.” He was still rubbing his ear nervously, eyes quickly glancing at Shane again. “And she likes you very much.”

“Oh? That’s nice?”

Ilya laughed. He felt a twisted sense of pride in being able bring out what he hoped was a little bit of jealousy from Shane. Not because he wanted Shane to feel bad but because it meant Shane liked him enough to react any sort of way. “So, she’s like your girlfriend?” 

Ilya knew then he could use this moment to be as truthful as he knew how to be about his feelings for Shane. Nothing they did was up front or vulnerable but Ilya was trying to retain the honesty they always gave each other. 

 He quickly answered as he said, “No, nothing like that. She’s old friend, sometimes we fuck,” he took a breath. “But she is busy these days with new business selling fancy cars.”

“Sounds perfect for you,” Shane said.

“Yes, it is  close to that, but…” “But what?”

Ilya inhaled, turning his head to look at Shane for a moment, “But is nothing more than that. For either of us. But is nice to have regular woman like that around.”

“You think she is the only woman in Boston who would sleep with you?”

“Mmm, I think I will find someone else.” Ilya paused, glancing over at Shane again, thinking of what to say next. “But… you know me. I am lazy, so.”

Shane offered a small smile. “I don’t know that side of you at all.” Ilya’s heart fluttered. He didn’t have a quick remark this time. He could only smile at Shane, admiring the way he looked sitting here in front of him. He could get used to the sight of him here, in his house, in his clothes. The oven beeped, interrupting his thoughts, and he got up to grab their food. 

As they ate, Ilya wanted to try and push for more. “You like them?”

“Yeah.” Shane said, looking down at his plate.

“Girls,” Ilya corrected. 

“Oh— um, yeah sure. Of course I do.”

“I never hear about you with girls.”

“I mean it’s private.” Shane looked at him then back away again. “I keep a lot of things private. Obviously.” 

Ilya nodded, pausing for a moment. “I like girls.”

“No shit.”

“But I also like you.”

Shane gave a slight smile, making eye contact with Ilya again, “Lucky me.”

Ilya wanted to tease him. “Not as person, of course.”

“Of course not. I’m boring.” 

“But you have a good mouth…so.” 

Shane smiled at him and he wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever. He was interrupted by his phone vibrating. His heart paused for a moment when he noticed it was his father. He handed off the remote to Shane, stepping away to answer. 

After hanging up a few moments later, he sat back down next to Shane. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to calm down. 

“You still hungry?” he asked Shane. 

“No. But thank you. That was great.”

“Good.” It was something to feel pleased about. He took a deep breath, trying to focus on what was playing on the television when Shane said something again, turning to look at him.

“How’s your father?”

Ilya’s heart skipped a beat as he turned to face Shane too. He raised his eyebrows, eyes quickly moving over Shane’s face,  “Ah. You speak Russian now?”

“I know the word for father.”

Ilya watched Shane’s lips as he smiled, making him smile too. He pulled him back onto this chest as they sat back on the couch, running his hand gently over Shane’s head. He lowered the volume as Shane settled more comfortably onto him; little whimpers escaping him. Ilya wondered if Shane were feeling the same peace as he was. If he could tell how fast his heart was beating. 

He kissed the top of Shane’s head, breathing in the smell of his hair. Ilya noticed Shane’s fingers lightly tracing lines over his thigh and eventually finding their way to the bulge in his pants. Shane turned his face further into Ilya’s chest and began pressing small kisses down his stomach, eventually meeting where his hand had already been. 

Ilya couldn’t stand it anymore and luckily it seemed Shane felt the the same way when he sat up, turning around to adjust himself on Ilya’s lap, now face to face. He watched as Shane took off his shirt and he couldn’t help but run his hands over his chest. He could only think of how beautiful Shane looked like this. He was taller than Ilya this way and Ilya loved how it felt to look up at him, like something to worship. He wondered if Shane had any idea how much he already did. 

Their lips found each other again, the kisses were yielding. Ilya couldn’t tell where he ended and Shane began. There was barely any space between them yet he wanted him even closer. They paused only for a moment for Shane to pull at the waist band of Ilya’s pants, pulling his cock out. Shane leaned forward again as he began stroking him, kissing him in between each deep breath. 

“Why do I need this so much?” Shane asked in a whisper. 

“Need what?” Ilya said back, as if he didn’t already know the answer. It felt like this would be the moment Shane Hollander would finally admit to it out loud. This thing between them. But Shane never responded.  

They kept their eyes on each other as Shane pulled out his own cock, taking both into in his hand and stroking them. Ilya’s head fell back as he moaned. He needed to know if this felt as good for Shane as it did for him. It was a little rough, but Ilya was overwhelmed with the way Shane began peppering kisses over his face and his neck. 

His chest felt so warm. There was so much feeling and he didn’t know where to put it all. This is how we express ourselves, he thought. There was so much more being said in between those eager gasps than any words they ever shared with each other. 

“Come here.” Ilya grabbed Shane’s wrist, taking his palm beneath his chin and spit. Shane immediately put his hand back, stroking faster. Ilya could see the way Shane’s cock was leaking and he loved it. He wanted to tell him just how proud he was of him. 

Ilya thrusted his hips and in that moment he could see Shane felt brave. “You gonna come for me, Rozanov?” 

“Fucking make me.” Ilya gritted back through shaky breath. Shane’s strokes became more frantic and Ilya’s mind was filled with Hollander. Shane fucking Hollander. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly going still.

“Oh fuck Shane…” he said as he came, coating Shane’s hands, allowing him to bring himself off almost immediately after. 

“Ilya…” Shane returned. Their foreheads remained touching as they sat there breathing heavily. Ilya couldn’t help but give a small smile, chasing a kiss with another kiss. He was lightly stroking Shane’s back when he felt the warmth suddenly leave him. Shane started working his way off Ilya’s lap, adjusting his pants, and looking around frantically as if he’d just been caught doing something wrong. Ilya didn’t feel like they did anything wrong. Did they?

“I should um — ” Shane started through shaky breath. “I should go.” 

“Go?” Ilya asked, confused.

“I shouldn’t stay I — I can’t. Team meeting in the morning I uh— forgot.”

“Okay,” Ilya said, now with hurt in his voice. “You forgot team meeting?” He could tell Shane was avoiding eye contact but he kept his eyes on him anyway.  

“Thank you for the tuna melt.” Shane was fidgeting with his shirt now. “I um…I’m sorry. This…I can’t.”

Ilya reached out his hand. He thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, he could reverse it all. Bandage it up with a simple back track and make it all comfortable for Shane again. 

“Hollander,” he said, hand still held out; an offer. 

I’m sorry. Let’s forget about it. Let’s go back.

“I just uh — I can’t. I can’t do this.”

“Hollander,” Ilya tried again. This time a plea. 

I’m sorry. Please. Stay.

His eyes were welling up as he watched Shane repeat “I’m sorry,” once more, turning and rushing out.

The silence now surrounding Ilya suddenly felt so very loud. He couldn’t tell if his soul still existed here with him or if it walked right out the door with its keeper. There was an emptiness within and without him and it only felt more suffocating when his eyes took notice of the empty plates in front of him. The can of ginger ale, not even yet warm. Because that is how quickly it all went to shit. 

Ilya had so much confidence in this plan, so much certainty that this would go right that nothing made sense to him now that it hadn’t. He cleaned himself up, standing to grab the plates and take them to the kitchen. He moved in what seemed like slow motion as he rinsed them off and placed them in the dishwasher. His eyes glazed over where Shane had been sitting across from him not so long ago. 

He didn’t much believe in the supernatural but if anyone had asked him in that moment if he’d felt a presence, he would say yes. He’s everywhere. 

His feet guided him to his bedroom and like some cosmic joke, his eyes caught Shane’s folded clothes off the side of the bed. He picked them up, bringing them closer to his face. He could feel his throat tighten as he thought of the way Shane always looked folding his clothes, without fail, every time. He was always so careful, so precise, so…boring. 

But boring meant something different to Ilya. It meant comfort, mundanity, safety— all of those things he associated with Shane. And for every time he called Shane boring; what he really meant was “Come be boring closer to me. Make me boring too.”

He turned around and walked to his dresser. He opened up one of the drawers and moved over some of his folded shirts, leaving Shane’s clothes inside with them. It was just incase he came back, Ilya thought. 

He so desperately wanted him to come back.

End note: I'm looking forward to getting into Shane's psyche after this! Probably not for this particular scene but for so many other moments that I think Shane's character deserves some expansion on. He is so dear to and so loved by me!!!

Thank you for reading! Comments are welcome <3