Man of the Hour
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Summary
And the problem is, it’s just too much fucking fun to prod him like this. When they’d met outside the rink in Regina, Hollander was polite, pushing back only a little. But it’s clearly getting to him: his silver medal, number two pick. The only person in his way, ever, is Ilya. Ilya wonders if anyone except the two of them even cares. He can’t remember the last time he cared about beating someone as badly as he wants to beat Hollander these days. Perhaps it’s a side effect from being forced to see his name right next to the guy’s for months on end. Rozanov and Hollander, Rozanov against Hollander, Rozanov versus Hollander. On, and on, and on
Series
- Part 1 of Man of the Hour
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Ilya taps ashes off the end of his cig, ignoring Shane’s repeated glance between his fingers and his face. But he makes sure—because he is nothing if not a sucker for a little bit of attention—to rub his lips against each other before wetting them with his tongue, then placing the cigarette back in his mouth. Hopes that the curve of his mouth around it isn’t as offputting as Hollander seems intent to pretend it is. I got you, Hollander, he thinks. I get it, I get how it feels to realize you want something. To have it be undefinable until someone else spells it out for you.
Series
- Part 2 of Man of the Hour