senscint
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Summary
He’s just about ready to doze off—his ritualistic pre-dinner, thirty-minute nap—when, suddenly, Ilya says, “Huh. Interesting.”
Shane cracks one eye open. “Hmm?”
“Oh, nothing, малыш,” he replies, though his brows are furrowed when he says it. Shane’s even more curious now.
“No, really, what is it?”
Ilya must lose some internal debate; a deep sigh leaves his body before, wordlessly, he turns his phone to Shane.
The bright light makes him squint, still not used to Ilya and his affinity for both using the light-mode feature and turning the brightness in his phone to a maximum. He forgoes scolding him when, after his eyes have adjusted, he reads: Metros acquires Fil-Canadian Rivera; second Asian player in franchise history after Hollander.
At first he thinks, oh, that’s my name. Shane hasn’t seen his name mentioned remotely near the words ‘Montreal Metros’ ever since he transferred to Ottawa three years ago. Then, and this is when it finally dawns on him, Shane thinks: second?
Series
- Part 5 of a collection of hollanovs
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2015. Ilya Rozanov has a loose tooth. Shane Hollander can't stop thinking about it.
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Shane leaves that Vegas penthouse suite feeling wretched, and like an idiot, and like he never wants to see Ilya Rozanov again.
Except, well. Then there are zombies.
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i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) by CorvidCordelia
Fandoms: Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types
18 Apr 2026
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Hollander’s eyes slid past him, stopped, came back and held, his eyes widening. Ilya smiled, a mocking curve of his mouth, and raised his cup in acknowledgment. Number one, he mouthed, and while he couldn’t be certain in the dim light of the bar, he thought he saw Hollander flush.
Then his chin lifted, challenging, and Ilya felt something hook behind his ribs, a sharp tug, like a fish on a line.
Or: Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander make a deal - whichever of them debuts as a #1 NYT bestseller owes the other a blowjob
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He still didn't know if this was normal - asking your friends about how good they were at sucking dick. Maybe this was how friendship worked for other people, if you weren't both hockey players, if one of you wasn't married, if your friendship didn't depend so much on knowing as little about each other as possible. If you knew the other person liked sucking dick.
Maybe he just likes it when Rose looks at him like that, awestruck, like he's scored a hattrick. He doesn't know anyone else who would be this impressed by his knowledge of having sex with men, which is unfair, seeing how long he's worked to build it.
Maybe that's why he ends up where he does, one arm extended to stick two fingers in Rose's mouth, her pink lipgloss sticky, smearing around his fingers, three of her fingers pressed as far as they can go into his, both of them drooling and stifling little snorts of laughter.
Rose asks a lot of questions.