i only cried once today

shane slips out onto the balcony and, in a move so insane he’ll have to blame it on his extreme exhaustion later, takes a seat on the floor beside rozanov’s chair, leaning his head on his thigh.

grayscale hollanov🖤🩶🤍

he’s literally a hollander fanboy, he calls him “perfect” numerous times, he watches in a blend of jealousy and reverence as shane beats him in every arena, he stalks him online and watches his stupid documentary, he is in complete awe of that man and so its super fucking sexy when that man drops to his knees a second after ilya tells him to or literally begs him to fuck him

and its not about putting shane in his place either, its hot because shane WANTS to do it so badly, its another form of respect in a way, respect for shane’s willingness and obedience and eagerness to please

and ive said this before but ilya one thousand percent gets off on the idea that shane is this clean cut goody two shoes golden boy and only ilya gets to know what he does behind closed doors

“What’s your passcode?”

Ilya looks over from the driver’s seat; the driver’s seat of Shane’s boring car that he insisted on driving part way to the cottage. It’s odd having Ilya in his car, even before he’d relented and handed over the keys. He can’t take his eyes off the way his elbow rests on the centre console and his fingers drum on the steering wheel. 

“Passcode?” Ilya asks, glancing down at his phone in Shane’s hands.

“Yeah, your passcode. If you’re driving, I get to choose the music. Those are the rules.”

“Stupid rules.”

“What is it? Your birthday? The date you got drafted?” Shane asks, trying both without luck.

“Uh – it’s eight, one,” he pauses, and initially Shane thinks it’s because he’s waiting for Shane to input the numbers, but it takes a generous pause and Shane repeating the first two numbers back at him before Ilya continues, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he says, “Two, four.”

As Shane types the last number, the phone unlocks, but he’s not paying attention to that anymore, eyes on Ilya’s profile as he stares straight ahead. 

“Your passcode is our jersey numbers?”

“Shut up. What is yours?”

“The date I got drafted.”

“See, also about me. Drafted same date.”

Shane’s lips quirk up at the corners as he holds back a smile, saying quietly, “Okay.”