Till your bones feel embarrassed from all the attention
Fandom: Heated Rivalry
Characters: Shane/Ilya
Summary: A video of Shane being tickled during a night out goes viral. Ilya becomes obsessed with it.
A/N: Warning for sexual themes.
Words: 4.5k
Part 2 here.
[Read it on AO3]
Lily: I can tickle you better.
Shane nearly flung his phone onto the table from how quickly he turned away in an attempt to shield it. His team wasn’t paying attention to him anyway, all hungover, all exhausted and not looking forward to the flight out of Toronto, though it was mercifully not until late in the afternoon. The brunch situation at the hotel was the last thing they were doing before the bus was due to pick them up to take them to the airport, a drive which could either be loud due to their win the previous night, or eerily quiet due to their celebration of said win. Shane wasn’t usually that careless about his time, but even he had been pulled into it, meaning he was all but dreading the thankfully relatively short flight into Boston. Boston where Ilya was currently texting Shane.
Jane: Excuse me?
He typed it out quickly, a panic settling in his stomach because he didn’t usually text him like this, out in the open. The closest thing to it was their dressing room and its guise of privacy. On his left was Hayden, who looked much worse for wear than Shane, which was probably due to all the shots he’d taken. Shane had, despite his team’s nagging, stayed entirely sober, but that didn’t mean he had a clear memory of the night either.
Lily: He doesn’t know your body like I know it.
Shane slammed the phone face down on the table, then thought better of it and grabbed it again. “What’s wrong with you?” Hayden asked, reaching for his own phone as if it would give him all the answers.
Shane ignored him and typed another response.
Jane: What the fuck do you mean?
Lily: You know.
Jane: I really don’t??
He could picture Ilya’s stupid smirk. Riling Shane up was his favorite thing.
Lily: You thought you could keep it secret from me.
Shane exhaled slowly.
Jane: That I’m ticklish? How did you even find that out?
Lily: Ah. You don’t know.
Last night came back in flashes. He remembered wanting to text Ilya. Remembered Hayden drunkenly urging him to text “that girl he was hiding”. But mostly he remembered flashing lights and people being drunk, and Shane feeling equally gone due to the lights and the sounds, stuck between awareness and a blur.
“Oh my god,” Hayden said to his left, just as Shane attempted to type back anything more coherent than a bunch of question marks. “Shane, we’ve gone viral.”
“What-”
Hayden pressed his phone into his face with a laugh, alerting most of the table. “You gotta see this.”
The video was on twitter, though it wasn’t posted by any of them but seemed to be a screengrab from Olsson’s instagram account. In it were Shane and Hayden with people dancing all around them. Really it was nothing special. Nothing to go viral over. Hayden was mostly swaying, while Shane was bopping his head awkwardly upon noticing the camera. Through the music you could hear Olsson prompting them to smile.
“He said smile!” Hayden yelled, seemingly not impressed by Shane’s initial attempt, which to be fair looked more like he was in pain than enjoying himself.
Present Shane shook his head. “Why would we go viral over this?”
“Oh, just you wait.”
In the video, Hayden grabbed for him, and Shane doubled over as if trying to escape. It really still didn’t make it any more interesting, until he realized with a flush that he was laughing.
‘They are so cute’ the tweet said, and when Shane would scroll down later in the privacy of his hotel room, people, seemingly fans of him and the team, would gush about their “bromance” and about him being ticklish, and it still didn’t really make any sense that this would get that many views, but Shane felt embarrassed about it anyway.
So much for letting loose.
In the end, it spread because Shane supposedly gained super strength and threw Hayden off of him - “That’s why I have this huge ass bruise on my side!” - and while he knew his way on the ice, Shane really wasn’t an aggressive person off of it.
The team laughed at the video and Shane slipped out of his seat, phone in hand.
Jane: What the fuck.
Lily: You have never thrown me around like that.
Jane: I will if you don’t stop.
Lily: You must be really ticklish.
Lily: Exciting for me.
Jane: Stop.
Lily: Hmm. I will if you are nice.
Jane: Asshole.
Lily: See you in two days :)
*
Ilya watched the video at least a dozen times before he texted Shane. He wished to say he did so in a composed manner, but he had hit the keys in a dazed rage. He wasn’t used to seeing Shane with his guard down, if you could even call it that. He didn’t seem like he belonged in that club, not really, but he seemed more relaxed than Ilya had seen him with his team. He always had a shield up. They were alike in that way.
It amused him to see him like that, slightly out of place but evidently enjoying himself. And then Pike put his hands on him and he saw red for much longer than he was willing to admit, and by the time he realized that Shane was bending over because he was being tickled, because he was ticklish and his best friend was using that knowledge to his advantage, knowledge he probably possessed beforehand, Ilya was already typing out the text without allowing himself time to think too much about it.
Jane: Excuse me?
The reply came quickly and Ilya didn’t let himself stall, didn’t let himself overthink this. He was teasing him, as he often did. Shane was always more practical over text, almost monotonous, but Ilya could sense his emotions behind the typed words. His spluttering. His blushing and stuttering and arousal, if the conversation asked for it.
He seemed confused now though, and Ilya swiftly realized he had no idea what he was talking about. Could imagine him scouring the internet for clues and putting up his usual front when he found it. Ilya only texted him because he wanted to reestablish something, maybe mostly to himself, and not necessarily because he cared about Shane being ticklish. That had just been a bonus.
But as the text conversation progressed, and as he imagined him blushing throughout it, he found he couldn’t let the idea of him squirming under his hands for different reasons go. It all but consumed him, in fact.
*
Montreal beat Boston and Ilya was in a frustrated mood. It was always worse losing when you played at home. Shane knew that all too well. He also knew that the best remedy was always taking your frustration out on each other’s bodies, which was why he wasn’t surprised when Ilya shoved him into the room the very moment Shane opened the door to his hotel room.
“Hey,” he said, though there was no heat to it.
“No talking,” Ilya said and grabbed his face to smash his mouth into his.
Shane was familiar with this dance. Had both led it and been led many times. He let Ilya steer him now, let him bite his lower lip and slide his mouth down his collarbone. Let him press him against the wall and dig his thumbs into his hip bones, as if there was any world where Shane would be pulling away. He moaned and Ilya moaned back in return, both of them relishing in how frustration always made the body desperate. How willing they both were to give into that desperation.
The bed was suddenly right there - when had they moved through the room? - and Shane didn’t protest when he was thrown onto it. The sheets were soft and freshly washed. Not that he really had the time to acknowledge it. Not with Ilya looming over him like that, head tilted in a way that made him feel self conscious.
“What is it?” he asked, feeling dizzy and needing him closer again.
A fingertip on his chest, which was slowly moving downward. It was very like Ilya to tease. He liked watching him squirm, he’d said, but this felt different. Shane suddenly felt on edge.
“I’ve been nice,” he said, remembering the text conversation.
Ilya hummed. “Not very nice to embarrass me in my own city.”
“That’s hockey, Rozanov.” He jutted his chin out. He was on thin ice, he knew. “We were simply better.”
“Were you?” Something flickered across Ilya’s face. Something kind of terrifying.
So Shane had been nervous about tonight. He hadn’t exactly been able to pinpoint why until now, when Ilya’s grin turned mischievous and he realized he had him pinned to the mattress, something he usually liked. Still liked, if he was being honest.
“Tell me, Hollander.” His finger had stilled on his ribs, the touch unbearably light. “How did you keep your sensitivity a secret from me for so long?”
Shane flushed, which was fucking ridiculous. “I’m not that bad. Hayden surprised me.”
“So if I tickle you now-” He used his other hand to wiggle his fingers in the air. ”-you won’t laugh? You will keep still and let me keep tickling?”
“What? I don’t know.”
“You are tense.” Ilya’s smile softened. “And blushing.”
“Shut up.”
He suddenly removed his finger. “I think I will let you be. Better to keep you tense. Means we will win next game.”
“What- you can’t text me before the game, Rozanov,” Shane said weakly, but it fell on deaf ears and he kind of forgot to reestablish that boundary once Ilya’s mouth was on him again.
*
Ilya felt lucky. Lucky that the next game against Montreal was only a few weeks after their loss, and lucky because he knew Shane was expecting him to text and therefore would be thrown off when he ended up not doing so at all. He looked at his phone and grinned, knowing Shane was probably doing the same in his own dressing room. It was almost better, forcing him to think of him. It would be more fun later, because of course there would be a later. He would take a cab to Shane’s creepy apartment and Shane would be angry because they would inevitably beat them, and Ilya would just laugh and let him do whatever he wanted to him, though not without doing things right back. It was part of it, their tumbling and battling.
“You waiting for a call or somethin’?” Cliff asked, appearing beside him suddenly.
Ilya slipped the phone into his bag. “No.”
“We have to win tonight, you know.”
“We will.”
“Price better keep Montreal in check.”
“You think I can’t do that myself?” he asked, which he knew was unfair. It was Price’s job to make sure he had as much of a free range as possible. It was Ilya’s job to score. Ilya would score and wink right in Shane’s face just to drive the point home and possibly drive him a bit crazy while he was at it.
Cliff slapped him on the back. “We got this.”
Ilya huffed and finished getting ready. His phone buzzed just before they were about to go out on the ice.
Jane: I didn’t peg you as someone who listens.
He snorted out a laugh and didn’t reply.
*
“Now you’re texting me before the game, huh?” was the first thing Ilya said when Shane entered his hotel room.
“You’re an asshole,” Shane replied. He looked angry, but there was no heat to it. You learned to live with losses when you played. Mostly they worked as motivation to keep getting better.
Ilya felt equally tired that night. The game had been an ongoing battle of score after score from both teams, which meant overtime and suspense which was both his favorite thing about the game and the thing which drained him the most. He had hoped that Shane would be fired up enough to take charge that night, but they stood staring at each other for slightly too long and Ilya grabbed for his waist when he realized Shane wasn’t moving.
“Wait-” Shane recoiled, which was unlike him, and Ilya had a terrifying moment of wondering if he’d finally crossed a line, if Shane was finally tired of this thing they were doing, and while he was certain his fear was visible on his face Shane seemed too busy blushing to notice.
“Ah,” Ilya said, realization dawning on him. “You think I will tickle you.”
He didn’t mean to say it to embarrass him, but Shane’s blush turned redder, turned angrier and defensive. “I thought you said you could do it better.” It was so evident that it took everything in him to say it. Ilya felt merciful because of it and didn’t tease. “Pardon me for thinking you were a man of your word.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to do it?”
“Well, no.”
“Then I won’t.” He reached out again, though without touching him. “Come here. I won’t do it,” he added when Shane eyed him warily. “But I really really want to.” He wasn’t sure why he admitted it, but the image of Shane squirming beneath him still hadn’t left his mind.
Shane whined. A beautiful, arousing whine, and Ilya wasted no more time before undressing them both and throwing him onto the bed.
*
Shane couldn’t figure out why it bothered him. Why the promise of such a pure, innocent thing wasn’t being held. Why he even cared about it in the first place.
The rain was plummeting down outside. Too early in the season for rain, but even winters in Canada seemed to have suffered from climate change. Not good. He watched it for a moment. The rain Ilya was probably driving in, this night after their game. The usual. This familiar dance.
It didn’t help that they hadn’t seen each other for like two months either. He felt restless. Horny. Really fucking lonely, actually.
“What took you so long?”
“Hello to you too, Hollander.” Despite their loss, Ilya seemed to be in a good mood. Much more cheery than Shane, weirdly enough.
“Yes. Hi. Come in.”
Ilya’s jacket was dripping just from the short walk to the door. Shane tried to not care that he was getting it on the wooden floors.
This was a new thing they had been doing recently. Not crashing into each other the very moment they were alone. They never had any reason for the stalling. They spoke very rarely, and when they did it was never anything that took up too much time. Ilya lingered by the door, took his time removing his jacket and shoes, and when he did he just looked around the apartment as if he hadn’t been here too many times to count by then.
“I have a confession,” he said, his hands in his pockets.
Shane’s heart skipped a beat. “That can’t be good.”
Ilya let out a laugh, though he seemed on edge. Nervous. That wasn’t common. “Is nothing bad.”
“Says you.”
Ilya shifted his weight from foot to foot. Not good at all, Shane didn’t say, though the obvious display of uncertainty fascinated him.
“You’re making me nervous.”
Ilya looked up at him, with a smile so unlike his usual one. “I confess,” he started, dragging the word out surely just to mess with him. “that I have been thinking of that video.”
“What video?” Shane knew what video.
“You know what video.”
“I really don’t.” He really did.
“Will you force me to use it against you, Hollander?”
“Use what- okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He held up his hands when Ilya stepped closer, a rare playfulness gripping them both. “You have been thinking of the video. Got it. What about it?”
Ilya took another step. “It makes me curious.”
“Curious of what?”
“You see, the video was loud.” Ilya waved a hand around. “You can only hear music.”
“It was a club, after all.”
“I can see you laughing, but I cannot hear it.” He shrugged. “Is unfair, don’t you think? That I have touched every part of your body, but have never heard you laugh like that?”
Shane exhaled. “You’re the one who has decided you’re not allowed to tickle me for some reason.”
Another step. If Shane reached out he would be able to touch him easily.
He stayed rooted to his spot even when Ilya grinned. “I change my mind.”
It surprised him that he kissed him when he grabbed for him. That his hands were holding onto Shane’s jaw and nothing else, nothing more soft and vulnerable and sensitive. But it didn’t surprise him when his hands started roaming once they got into the bed, once he had Shane trapped between his body and the mattress, and it didn’t surprise him that he started giggling immediately, though it did embarrass him.
“Oh my god,” Ilya mumbled into his mouth.
“What?” Shane snapped, which sounded a lot less demanding when you were laughing.
“Your laugh. Is cute.”
“It’s not.”
“Oh, but it is.”
Ilya left his mouth alone much to Shane’s chagrin and watched him instead, head tilted, something amused and fond on his face. It made this worse, so much worse, but Shane couldn’t concentrate on looking away. Not when Ilya seemed to lay all his focus on tickling him now. Fingers gentle on his ribcage, moving up and down until Shane was nothing but a twitchy mess. This was very different from how Hayden tickled him, those few times he’d done so. Hayden was always rough about it, and always quick. Ilya was gentle. Ilya took his time.
Shane wasn’t entirely sure if he could handle that, though. “Fuck, okay, you’ve heard my laugh, now cut it out!”
“Hmm, don’t think so. Have more spots to try.” True to his word, Ilya’s hands moved upward to curl beneath Shane’s chin, causing his laughter to go up in pitch. He probably loved that, that bastard.
Shane tried to grab him, tried to push him off, and the fact that he couldn’t, the fact that he was pinned just enough so that he couldn’t budge, did things to him which had nothing to do with the tickling, not really. Maybe Ilya noticed, because he suddenly leaned down again, his lips on the left side of Shane’s neck while his fingers kept tickling the right.
That was the start of something strange and bodily and tickly, which had Shane moaning and giggling in tandem. “I watched that stupid video over and over,” Ilya admitted into his skin, maybe in a moment of weakness. “I tried to figure out where exactly Pike was tickling you, but turns out it did not matter. You are ticklish all over.”
“Oh my god, shut up!” Shane choked out through his laughter. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
Ilya laughed and went for his thigh, proving his own point.
*
Lily: If we win you have to stay still while I tickle you.
Ilya wasn’t sure why he felt his pulse quicken when his phone buzzed with Shane’s reply a moment later. Too long for what he typed, which could mean he was busy but more likely meant he was flustered. Good. Ilya liked him flustered.
Jane: And if we win?
He shook his head, not stopping his grin from spreading. No one was here. He was safe to smile.
Lily: Oh, the same :)
Having admitted that he thought about the video had been a risky move, but oh the reward had been sweet. It took Shane longer to reply now. Had they been the types who called each other, Ilya would’ve done so. Longed to hear his voice rise in pitch as Ilya teased him.
Jane: I feel like this is cheating.
Lily: You are easy to distract.
Lily: Not my fault.
Jane: You are just as easy to distract.
Lily: Is that so?
Lily: What if I pinned you down and tickled that spot on your lower back? Pinned you facedown so you couldn’t stop me.
Lily: What then?
Jane: Stop texting me.
Lily: You love it.
Jane: I’m with my PARENTS.
Lily: Better keep a straight face while imagining my hands on you then.
Jane: I will block your number.
Lily: Is your ass ticklish? I never tried.
Jane: !!!!!!
Ilya burst into laughter. Shane was just too easy. And too fun. He feared he might get addicted. Probably already had, ages ago. He could imagine Shane shoving him on the bed in indignation only for the tables to turn and him not doing anything to stop it. Ilya liked that he didn’t try to stop it. Ilya liked making him squirm and laugh. Ilya liked that he let him.
*
Lily: Do me a favor.
The text came late, but Shane was wide awake somewhere in San Jose.
Jane: Why are you awake?
Lily: Big boy.
Shane’s stomach flipped until he realized he meant himself, which made him roll his eyes.
Jane: I am rolling my eyes.
Jane: What’s the favor?
Lily: Touch yourself and imagine it’s me.
Shane’s breath hitched, and it didn’t help when a second text came through.
Lily: Make it ticklish too.
Shane hated that he sometimes still felt like he was doing something wrong when they did this, but he didn’t allow himself to strain his ears to see if he could hear anyone else in this hotel. It was pitch dark. He was a grown ass man.
He barely had time to make himself comfortable on the bed when Ilya texted again.
Lily: Are you doing it?
Jane: Shut up.
Lily: Does it feel good?
Jane: I’ve not started yet.
Lily: Call me.
“What?” Shane said it out loud, and yet he called him anyway without a second thought. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Ilya sounded so close through the speaker phone. Maybe Shane could pretend his breath was in his ear for real. “Are you in bed?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Start with your stomach. I like the way it twitches under my touch.”
Shane inhaled sharply. “You can’t just tickle me over the phone.”
“How do you know? We’ve not tried yet.” The sound of rustling sheets could be heard. Shane imagined he was sliding down the bed. “If phone sex works then this could work.”
Shane shook his head. “That only works because you can touch yourself. You can’t tickle yourself.”
“So do both. Will make you more sensitive.”
“Jesus.”
“Not bad idea, right?”
“I guess not.”
“I am waiting.”
“You’re just gonna listen?”
“I can tease. You want me to tease?”
Shane ran a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
“What is happening to you? Describe it.”
“A fucking Russian menace is happening to me.”
Ilya laughed and Shane found he couldn’t help his smile. “Hollander,” he sang, as if he wasn’t ruining Shane’s whole life. “If I was there I would tickle under your arm. So start there.”
“Why there?”
“Because you make funny noises when I do.”
“I do not-”
“Hollander.”
Shane wasn’t sure why he was complying. It wasn’t as if Ilya could see him.
“Are you gripping the headboard like you always do with me?”
Yes. “No.”
“Be gentle at first. I only dig when I want you to be laughing. I only want you squirming now.”
Why the hell was Shane listening to him, he wondered as he dragged his nails over his armpit. It kind of tickled, but not enough for him to want to pull away or laugh. He felt silly, but something warm had settled in his chest. Something which was tied to the voice in his ear.
“Are you doing it?”
“Yes.”
“Good boy.”
Shane let out a strangled sound. “I can’t touch myself if I tickle there.”
“Be patient.”
“Are you touching yourself?”
“Not yet.”
Shane mostly said it as a joke, but he could tell from Ilya’s tone that he was entirely serious. That he was planning on joining Shane while directing him.
It made him incredibly turned on to think about.
“Can I please switch spots?” Can I touch myself?
Ilya made a sound he couldn’t interpret. “You can. Go for stomach now. Gently.” He waited while Shane did as he was told, then added, “Does it tickle?”
“A little.” Why was he entertaining this?
“Good. Imagine it is me.”
Shane did. Fuck, he did. Ilya leaning over him. Ilya being so gentle while also still keeping him in place. One hand on his sensitive skin, another on his sensitive groin.
“Fuck.”
Ilya laughed softly in his ear. “You like that? You like the thought of my hands on you?”
Boston was suddenly too fucking far, their next joint game even farther. He exhaled and circled his belly button again, moved further to the side where he knew the skin twitched if he went gently enough. It was funny how well Ilya knew his body, even though this particular part was new to him. Something about his fixation on it, for Shane had seen right through his attempt at initial nonchalance, made him feel things he still hadn’t baptized.
He leaned his head back. Even though the hand was his own and he could remove it any time, the touch was still leaning on unbearable. If Ilya was here he would tell him to take it. Shane tried to take it each time, though he was always allowed to fight back. Was always allowed to squirm and curse and beg, not that he begged of course. He leaned his head back and curled his fingers over his skin and gripped himself tightly as Ilya told him exactly what to do. Their first phone call. How strange that it was this. How unsurprising all the same.
*
“Did you come?” Ilya had, several seconds before the inevitable sound of Shane’s own orgasm filled his ear. His question was redundant. He knew Shane’s noises well. Could imagine the way his eyes slipped shut.
“I did,” he replied, voice hoarse. “That was-”
“It was.” Ilya smirked. “I made you come without even being in the same state.”
Shane barked out a laugh. “I made myself come.”
“Hmm, not without my help.”
“Shut up.” But he sounded lighter than Ilya had heard him in a while.
“Tell me,” he said, rolling over to his side to reach for the tissues he kept at his bedside table. “Did you keep tickling the entire time?”
Shane was quiet for so long he thought he’d hung up. “I did.”
“Did you like it?”
No response at all this time. Ilya decided to be merciful.
“I was being serious, by the way,” he said while cleaning himself up. “If we win I will tickle you and you will be still.”
“And if we win you will do the same?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds fair.”
“I’m only fair on the ice.”
“An asshole both on and off it though.”
“An asshole who knows your body much better than Hayden Pike.”
“Oh my god, Rozanov.”
Ilya laughed. “See you in two weeks.”
