B 🐝

and shane finds ilya there, hoodie in his hands, frozen in silence. “oh,” shane says, “that’s — i probably should’ve gotten rid of that ages ago.” ilya looks at him then, still half choked, blurts out, “never. you’re never getting rid of it.” and it dawns on shane that ilya must know why he kept it, all those years. the hidden reel of memories they share between them.

“i wore it for days afterward,” shane says, because he can, now. “because it smelled like you, a little. it was almost like — you were holding me, still. kissing me. kinda stupid, isn’t it?”

Shane isn’t super into the idea. “My parents don’t have a VHS player.”

“Is literally right beside your knee, Hollander.”

“Well, it’s boring! Why do you want to see a dumb recording of me as a kid anyway?”

“Because it’s adorable?” Ilya says incredulously. “And you are adorable?”

“Oh, I forgot we had that!” Yuna exclaims, coming to sit on the couch with her glass of wine. “God, I miss those days. Shane was the cutest timbit.”

Timbit, Ilya mouths to himself, his fingers curling around the tape. This is Shane as a timbit? In all his tiny little hockey gear at the Bell Center? Ilya needs to see it. “Shane.”

Shane looks at him and sighs.

They put the tape in.

Ilya almost dies as the grainy screen resolves itself into an MC and a tiny Shane, dressed in his hockey gear. His helmet is crooked on his head, his stick tap tap tapping against it as he stares at the interviewer, determined. His cheeks are big and round and pink from the cold of the ice, and though Ilya cannot make out his freckles, he knows from pictures that they’re there. The MC crouches down and a packed Bell Center is visible behind them.

“And here we have number 24, Shane Hollander!” The MC says in heavily accented English. “Let’s give him a round of applause. Shane, how are you feeling tonight, are you excited to be here?”

“Um. Yes.”

“And how old are you, Shane?”

Little Shane closes his eyes for a moment, taking a big, deep breath before reciting: “My name is Shane Hollander and I’m a hockey player. I am three years old and I go to Glebe Co-operative Nursery School in Ottawa and my mommy and daddy are Yuna and David. And I’m three.”

The MC laughs a little. “That’s a great introduction, Shane, thank you. Do you have anyone here with you tonight, cheering you on in the audience?”

Shane’s eyes open, but he doesn’t break out into a toothy grin. No, instead, Shane—serious, no-nonsense Shane—nods and leans in to the microphone like he’s giving a post-game interview. “Yes, my mommy and my daddy.”

“And are they big Metros fans?”

“Yes.”

“What about you?”

“Yes, too. They’re gonna go all the way this year. They have all the pieces for a winning team.”

“That’s what we love to hear, Shane, we agree and we love the confidence. Can we expect to see you on the ice someday? Do you want to be a hockey player when you grow up?”

“Yes, I’m a hockey player.”

“Do you want to play for Montreal?”

“Yes.”

“Can we get some encouragement for the team from you, Shane? Maybe a Go Metros Go?”

This, Shane takes extremely seriously. Ilya watches him nod with all the solemnity of a general going to war, and then releases his own tiny, passionate battle cry: “Go Metros Go!”

“Shane Hollander, everyone, let’s give him another round of applause!”

I'm only a day late which means, by my standards, that I'm perfectly on time to wish them a happy anniversary! ❤️

“Nineteen,” Ilya said at the same time Shane said, “Eighteen.”

Ilya shot him a curious look. “We were nineteen the first time we—”

“Oh,” Shane said. “I thought the question was the first time we felt, um, sparks.” His ears were bright red and Ilya wanted to bite them.

Shane is accidentally fuck drunk on the plane home with all the cens post a swing of away matches.

Like it’s not really Shane and Ilya’s fault. Not really. Ilya wakes up before Shane’s alarm, and Shane is sprawled on his tummy asleep underneath ilya, who is half laid over him, his arm around Shane’s waist and face smushed into Shane’s warm shoulder. They’d won last night and the two games before that and the heavy thrill of it was settling into Ilya’s veins, how right this year felt, how good it felt being on the same team as Shane, seeing this thing all start to work.

Anyway- blah blah blah, Ilya is kissing up over the back of Shane’s neck, his short hairline, over his ears and shoulders, lazy nuzzles of his nose because they have time. It’s just early light in the room and Shane’s alarm hasn’t gone off yet, meaning they have time. They’d fucked last night, frantic and hot against the door of the hotel, still half sweaty from rushed showers at the rink. Adrenaline thundering through the pair of them. It had been desperate and rushed, spit instead of lube and grabbing hands.

They’d showered after and curled up in bed and kissed sweet and slow and passed out hard. And now, now Ilya wants him again, needs him again, dizzy proud of Shane, dizzy happy of waking up to his pretty boy in his bed. His husband, his teammate. Fuck it makes Ilya feel crazy. Shane wakes up to the lube slick of Ilya’s fingers petting over his hole, sighing happily and rolling his hips back once, twice. “Mmm sore” Shane exhales and Ilya hums, presses his nose behind Shane’s ear, and Ilya’s fingers are soft and sweet and he’s making a sad little sound. “Sorry sweetheart” he exhales, knowing they’d been rough last night. “Let’s kiss is all better baby” Ilya had used his mouth on Shane’s dripping wet with saliva and slow, made him cum like that and then got him open on his fingers because Shane had softly whimpered and asked for “more please” then they’d snoozed Shane’s alarm a few times because then they’d both wanted Ilya’s cock inside him after that. They fucked deep, slow and heavy.

Ilya had been laid over Shane’s body, pressed skin to shin, Ilya’s neck tucked into Shane’s neck, kissing and licking and nuzzling into the soft skin. Ilya’s arms had been wrapped around Shane, one around his chest the other under his head, Shane’s face in the crook of his elbow, panting wet and hot into the skin.

His fifth thrust inside Shane had whimpered, turned his face into Ilya’s bicep and kissed at the warm skin and sighed “can still feel you from last night, feels good. Feels, like a lot, you already feel big in the morning but it’s even more” he’d whispered, soft and true and Ilya had gripped his face and licked into his mouth, kissed him hot and needy and then told him him how fucking good he felt, how good he was, his boy. And it’s so dizzy good like that, in the dark quiet early morning of the hotel room, under thick soft hotel bedding, just the pair of them whispers and heavy touches, slick messy kisses. Then Shane’s sucking Ilya’s fingers and they are moving slow, sore from the night before, the pleasure is stretched out and lazy and hot and good good good.

Shane gets fuzzy, so fucking hard and so fucking open and full of Ilya and the sheets are so soft and feel so nice under his cheek, and Ilya is holding him so tight and is so big over him and the ache of his muscles from last night feels sore and good and he just kinda softly slips into another space, that warm lightheaded fuzz that Ilya can send him into. He’s sucking on Ilya’s tongue, his fingers, nuzzling into Ilya’s face and then he’s just he only exists in the hot aching place he and Ilya connect, he needs. He needs. They come with whimpering I love yous, Ilya’s hand gripping Shane’s jaw, face with such force it makes his cheeks smush and Shane’s lashes flutter at the force of his orgasm. Shane nuzzles and kisses and mouths at Ilya’s forearm as Ilya cums all over his back, his ass.

Ilya doesn’t realise till Shane is so far gone until he reached down to ease himself out and Shane whines, whines, reaches back and grips at Ilya’s body, “stay” he exhales, and Ilya is leaning back down over him, finding Shane’s face and his palm and tilting him up to his gaze and Shane’s eyes are half lidded and cheeks red and he’s leaning in to try and find Ilya’s mouth like it’s the only thing that exists.

“Ohhh bunny” Ilya cooes, and kisses over Shane’s flushed cheeks, knocks their noses other. “You are gone yes?” Ilya asks, low voice, and Shane just turns his face further into Ilya’s, like he’s trying to burrow into his skin.

“Was goooood” Shane exhales, and his and hand goes up into Ilya’s curls, tugging and fidgeting with them. Ilya can’t help but beam, and he’s kissing all over Shane’s face, arm warm around him to keep him close.

Ilya smooths his hand down to grip at Shane’s ass, cooing a low “always good, you’re always good” and then- then Ilya’s alarm goes off which fuck. Means they have like half an hour to be downstairs ready to go- and Shane just huffs and rubs his face into Ilya’s neck and says “turn it off” and Ilya lets out a low laugh and then ten seconds later he’s pulling back- “oh fuck Ilya. We’ve gotta go” he says, wide eyed and Ilya sucks his teeth and rubs his thumb over Shane’s cheek and she’s like “da bunny, we do, I’m sorry- we got. Hm carried away” Ilya says low, kisses Shane’s nose and chin and squeezes him to his chest with a firm cuddle.

“we need to go, but is okay” Ilya reassured him and it is. Ilya gets Shane into the shower and kisses him deep till Shane’s toes curl against the tiles and then he’s slipped out to let Shane finish in the shower while quickly packs them up- gets them clothes, raids the mini bar for an apple juice. He makes Shane sip at the juice and Ilya gets them dressed, loose sweats, a hoodie of Ilya’s that’s too big for either of them pulled onto Shane, hood up over his wet hair. He’s more himself by the time they get out of the room, but it’s rushed and not how Ilya likes, he likes to kiss Shane back to being warm eyed and snarky and calling Ilya an asshole. Likes to touch and hold him close, tease him and maybe make him cum again, make him squirm like it’s too much. Then bring him back with a bath and kisses and talking.

Shane looks spacey, likes he’s come off three hard shifts on the ice, cheeks still flushed and eyes so dark and long slow blinks. Loose limbed and unsteady.

Shane sinks into Ilya’s side in the lift, yawning heavily and he’s pressing his face to Ilya’s throat and his hand is shoving into Ilya’s pocket. Ilya puts a hand up under his sweatshirt and rubs at Shane’s warm hip, lower back.

They get to the lobby just as the coach is pulling up outside to take them to the airport. The boy don’t pay them much mind, soft mutters of “cap” “hollzy” “morning” early enough for most of the team to be half asleep or hungover still.

On the short ride to the hotel Shane falls asleep curled into Ilya’s side, hood still up, his hand under Ilya’s sweatshirt, resting on the low of his stomach, pink finger tucked into the waistband of Ilya’s sweats. Fabric covered the quiet needy affection. Ilya’s hand rubs up and down Shane’s back, squeezes the back of his neck when he fusses.

It’s only once they get to the airport that the guys realise Shane is off. “Hollzy you get hit last night” Bood asks, rubs the top of his head in passing as they settle into seats by the gate. Shane shakes his head, blinks heavy and says “oh um no. Just uh feel a bit” Shane shrugs and waves his hand and Bood nods, starts talking about his sister having the flu and these immunity supplements he thinks are “bomb”. Ilya pulls Shane’s leg over his once they are sat, tugs him to rest his head on his shoulder.

Troy offers Shane like six different snacks he keeps producing from his bag. Shane’s just all slow shakes of his head and he only accepts the coffee Ilya had asked bood to get for him. Shane smiles against the cup when it’s a Mocca, chocolate sweet and heavy and comforting on his tongues. Keeps one hand in Ilyas as they sit together, heavy and all yawns. Hass and Hayes both talk about how “cute” they look, cuddled up- far more than their usual affection. It’s sweet Ilya thinks, that the boys notice the change in Shane but Ilya feels like a frustrated guard dog, protective of this soft lovely Shane that is only his. Ilya aches to kiss him, to draw love hearts with his fingertips over Shane’s hips till he gets too shiver and shoves his hands away. To feed him grapes and oranges by hand and have a far too long shower and curl up in bed together again, maybe doze a while.

When they finally get on the plane, Ilya cant help himself, pushes up the arm between the seats as soon as he can and pulls Shane into his chest. Shane doesn’t even try to protest, shoves his face into the warm skin between Ilya’s shoulder and jaw, with a weighted exhale. “Baby” Shane whispers and Ilya nods, nods, tucks a hand to Shane’s cheek, under the fabric of his hoodie and his fingers find his earlobe to rub rub at it. “I know” Ilya mutters, squeezes Shane in a warm hard hug. “I know, you did good” he praises, honest, because Shane had done good, so good getting here. Ilya rubs his cheek against the top of Shane’s head. The fabric of the hood soft.