deora

India/Charlie/India Stoker



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    Shane Hollander is a man who thrives on structure, routine, the solid ground of a ten-year plan. Ilya likes that about him, likes the embracing squeeze of having a life organized in tandem with Shane.

    No one would call Ilya a man who thrives on structure. But it’s there, if not in his DNA then in the patterns of his brain. A call-and-response of: they do this, I do that.

    When Ilya’s life is flayed open for the world to dissect, how will they push-and-pull their way back towards what was once a well-organized life?


    “I thought we could go through the schedules and figure out what days we’ll be in the same cities this season, or when either of us have a couple of days off in a row. Maybe make a shared calendar, so we c—”

    “A sex calendar? Your parents are arriving in thirty minutes, and you are proposing making a sex calendar?” Oh, this was delicious. He’d be able to eat out on this for years, if Shane was willing to give him that long.

    “It’s not a sex calendar! It’s just … when we might be able to see each other,” he finished, already sounding defeated.

    “And what are you planning on doing when we are seeing each other? Not fucking?”

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    20 Jun 2026

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    “Does the Dominus enjoy serving a slave?” Ilya murmured.

    Shane looked up at him through dark lashes. His mouth was a hairsbreadth away from Ilya’s cock, and Ilya could see the exact moment the last of his composure burned out, shedding, the way a snake left its old skin behind, eyes bright and body underneath already new—

    —and instead of answering, Shane licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft, root to tip.

    The law calls Ilya a slave. The mob of Rome calls him their lion, their Gladiator. Senator’s son Shane calls him to his bed.

    Now Shane wants to call him free, but that means owning him first.

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    13 May 2026

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    Shane Hollander is the youngest Commander in ISS history; straight-backed, closeted, and so tightly on his own leash that seven months in orbit with Ilya Rozanov have not produced a single crack in his composure.

    Ilya Rozanov is the Russian cosmonaut who should have had his job, won’t stop bouncing a tennis ball off the walls, and is still looking for a fissure. Thankfully, a solar storm finds it for him.

    or: Near-death, zero gravity, and the wrong man’s hands in exactly the right places.

    A Cosmonaut!Ilya x Astronaut!Shane AU 🚀

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    04 Apr 2026

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    Ilya fucks a girl in a Hollander jersey. Word gets back to Shane.

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    05 Feb 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    He couldn’t say these things, couldn’t ask for them, so he just thanked God it was what Ilya wanted too. There were a lot of things that worked that way.

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    “I was thinking about the honeymoon phase thing.”
    “Yes?” Ilya said.
    “I think it’s different for us. I don’t want us to be all blissful and then only start fighting when we’re back to barely seeing each other. I think it’s good if we figure things out now, when we have the time. Whatever needs figuring out. So we have a solid foundation going into the season. Sort of like training camp.”
    “So this means you will keep getting mad at me for things,” Ilya said.
    Shane smiled, rolled his eyes. “Yeah, exactly,” he said.
    “Good, I find it very hot,” Ilya said, and kissed him.

    An insecure over-thinker and a self-destructive thrill-seeker walk into a relationship.

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    25 Jan 2026