Chapter Text
Lily: Come to hotel after game.
Shane let out a huff through his nose at the straightforwardness, staring down at his phone as the locker room hyped themselves up for the third period against Boston. Despite being up 2-1 on Boston, Ilya still had the nerve to text him. He supposed Ilya never really cared if sex was a winner's prize or a consolation prize because in the end, it ended the same way with Shane gasping and crying into the pillow while Ilya took him in whatever position he wanted, their pleasure mounting until it poured over and then they were allowed to bask in the light of their orgasms.
His thumbs hovered before he typed out a few ideas of what to reply with before he erased them, before slowly typing out his official response.
Jane: What happens if I win tonight?
Ilya's reply was almost instant, making Shane roll his eyes.
Lily: Well, clearly, you get a prize. But, I make deal with you. You can do whatever you would like tonight if you win. Take control, if you want.
Well, normally, Shane didn't like taking control. His running away after their day together was just one example. But after Florida, and after confessing to each other, it almost felt right to finally feel normal with him. And the idea of being able to easily break down Ilya Rozanov, which by all accounts wasn't too hard, especially for Shane kind of made him excited.
Shane glanced around once more, making sure he didn't have any nosy players looking over his shoulder before he typed out his response.
Jane: Deal. Get ready to lose.
Ilya simply sent his typical purple emoji in reply, and Shane was tempted to put that as his contact instead of "Lily". He set his phone up on his shelf just in time to be tackled by Hayden and a few others.
"Okay, when we win tonight, you are coming out with us!"
Shane looked startled before he realized what they meant and he started shaking his head. "Uh, yeah, no thanks. I'm meeting my parents after-"
"Boooo!" His team yelled at him, making him shake his head.
"Come on, Hollander, come to the bar with us. At least just for a celebratory drink!" Shane sighed, thinking about the plans he literally just made.
"...Fine. One drink."
"LET'S GO!"
Fighting on the ice was nothing like their sex life. On the ice, it was fighting for dominance, for control, to see which one was better in the sense of skills. In the bedroom, though, they had their roles. While in the beginning they usually kissed, acting as if they were trying to dominate the other, before Ilya quickly broke him down to the bare basics of pure need with just a few simple kisses and touches. Since the beginning, Shane was never able to refuse Ilya. No matter what issue they were facing, Shane was always weak to him.
He would never admit it out loud, even though Ilya knew, but he liked their dynamic. He liked being made to submit. So... maybe he would like making Ilya submit to him the same way.
Ilya had tied them up within the first five minutes, and it was a fight the rest of the period before Shane scored with a minute remaining. Ilya scoffed playfully at them, but the heated gaze they shared wasn't caught as sexual, but more into the ploy of being rivals. As always, Shane was eager to finish at the bar and then head to Ilya's for the promise they made.
Lily: Congrats. I knew the idea would make you play better.
Jane: Shut up. It wasn't you.
Lily: Liar.
Jane: Besides, I'm not going right away. The team is dragging me out to celebrate.
Lily: To a bar? Who are you?
Jane: Shut up
Lily: You enjoy it
Jane: In your dreams
Lily: ;) see you soon
Shane shook his head, putting the phone back on the shelf before heading to the showers to hopefully chill out and calm his mind before it went anywhere more... Jesus, slutty would be a word for it.
Shane scrubbed his face until it was almost raw to get the thoughts out of his head.
As always, the team was way too rowdy after a win, but the people at the bar were far more rowdy when they recognized the team as they filtered in. Some of the guys immediately went to the bar to order the drinks, and while he was not really in the mood to drink, he figured he would indulge since he did get the game winning goal. Just a little bit. That's what he kept telling himself at least as they presented a tequila shot to him, and after swallowing thickly, he threw it back, wincing at the burn but showed off the empty glass, his team cheering in response.
He sat at the bar, getting a glass of water instead of a drink because he wanted to be sober when he finally went to Ilya's, and his mind quickly started delving into the idea of Ilya, letting him climb on top and ride him until he was whining for release, remembering how it was the last time. He hardly ever let Shane ride him, and usually took control and set them in their normal hands and knees position, but Shane loved to watch Ilya's face contort as he sank down on-
"Excuse me?" Shane snapped out of his daydream and looked over at the two men who came up next to him, quickly taking in their appearances before managing a polite smile, the same one he used for the press.
"Hello," Shane greeted.
"We just wanted to say congrats on your win and-and that we're huge fans."
"Oh, thank you. Do you want an-an autograph or a picture?" Please say yes so I can leave.
"You wouldn't mind a picture?"
"No, not at all." The two men scrambled until they finally found one of their phones, taking a picture with him before clamoring to look at it.
"Thank you. Can we buy you a drink?"
"Oh, no, I'm good, but thanks."
"Please, in thanks."
It wasn't often that Shane felt a sinking feeling in his gut, but when he did it usually was when something bad was about to happen. He didn't really want to accept a drink from them, his eyes darting out to see if he could catch Hayden's eye or honestly, anyone else, but they were all too busy drinking and causing disruption to notice him. Shane hesitated a moment more, but the two were insistent, continuing to badger him to accept.
"A-Alright, just one drink."
"There's a great cocktail here that they make that you may like." They ordered quickly, and then they started badgering questions at him, pausing only long enough to let him answer. Before he knew it, there was a icy cocktail in his hand, light brown and fizzy with a mint on it for garnish, and while it didn't look off, he wasn't sure what it was.
"It's an ginger ale based drink," one of the men say and his eyes dart up to theirs, because how did they know? "With vodka. It's a good combo."
"Thanks, I appreciate it." He says, and with that, they finally leave him alone. He inspects it a bit closer, but the idea of the mixture has him slightly curious so he takes a tiny sip. To his surprise, he actually likes it. Normally, new drinks were hard to try, but... This was okay.
He didn't realize it was going to be the biggest mistake of his life.
His ears rung, like he had gotten punched in the ears, and his head throbbed, making his ears ring worse. His ribs and stomach hurt. His throat was sore, and his ass hurt and he was cold-
Why was he so cold?
Shane slowly managed to come out of the drowsiness. He was slumped against colder concrete than the air hitting some of his bare skin. He sat there, trying to breathe through the pain before the realization of what happened slammed into him like someone was boarding him on ice and suddenly jerking him wide awake. A sob tore through his throat as the pains and aches suddenly amplified, and he managed to look down, looking at his torn clothes. He was missing a shoe, oddly, and his jacket, and his jeans were ripped-
Another sob wracked his body, and he quickly fumbled for his phone, finding it on the ground. It was cracked but it still lit up at least, and he managed, through tears, to find Ilya's contact, really needing to change it because he wanted to, and pressed call, shakily bringing the phone up to his ear.
It rang barely even once before it was picked up, and he was surprised to hear the concern in Ilya's voice, when he really shouldn't be with their feelings now revealed.
"Shane? What happened? It has been hours. I thought you might have gotten drunk and bailed-"
Shane bit the back of his hand to stop the next sob. "I-I... Something... happened..."
He could hear immediate rustling, full of urgency once Ilya heard his voice, shaky, quiet, scared. "Where?"
"I-in... I don't..." He looked around, seeing a street sign through his blurry vision. He wiped away the tears, if only to stop them for a moment, and managed to read off the street to him before his vision blurred again. "N-Newbury Street? I-In an alley... I don't know which one..."
"I am minutes away. Stay there, stay on phone." Shane nodded silently, because if he tried to speak, a sob may overtake any words. He managed to fix his pants for the most part, his hand shaking with the effort. To add to the disgusting feeling of dried... something on his body, he could feel... something leak out from between his cheeks, and the feel of it made him nauseous. He pulled the phone away from his ear so he could lean over, throwing up whatever he had in his stomach to the side, adding to the burning and ache in his throat. Shane didn't know how long he was bent over like that until he heard footsteps, his heart jumping with fear until he heard the phone line beep, and then a warm hand press against the back of his neck and the scent of cologne, Ilya's cologne, and pine wrapped around his nose, quickly covering the disgusting smells in the alley.
"Oh, God, Shane," Ilya whispered, and as Shane managed to lean back up from his spell, Ilya cupped his cheek, reverently, his eyes darting over his face and chest and body, taking in the damage before he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket.
"What..." Ilya trailed off because the moment Ilya touched him, Shane broke down, holding onto his wrists tightly as he begin to sob and shake and freak out. "Shh, shh. I got you." Gently, Ilya hugged him despite the awkward positioning. After a few minutes, Shane went quiet, exhausted, drowsy and hurting. He couldn't believe how he fell for it; he thought it was just an innocent drink, and...
"Shane," Ilya says quietly, bringing him out of his thoughts. "We... We should go to the hospital." That lit panic in his mind again, and he looked up at Ilya sharply, digging his fingers into Ilya's shoulders from where he was holding him.
"N-no, please, I... No one..." He hiccupped, tears beginning to pour from his eyes again. "No one can see me like this...!"
"Then I will make them sign an NDA, pay them off or whatever! You may have concussion, and they... they should..." Ilya trailed off for a moment, struggling to find the correct English words because all he wanted to do was shout in Russian. But finally, he spoke again, lowering his voice so it was gentle, quiet and soothing, but firm and to the point. "They should do rape kit, so they can collect evidence. Find the bastard who did this to you." Shane squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into Ilya's neck, his body trembling from being cold, exposed and in pain.
"B...Bastards..." He quietly corrects, and Ilya goes still.
"What?"
"There... There were... two, I think..." He heard Ilya take in a breath, as if trying to compose himself before he hunted the men down himself, and slowly, he managed to bring Shane up to his feet. He kept a hand on his arm as he looked for Shane's other shoe, finding it nearby, quickly pulling it onto his foot, and then found his jacket thrown over some crates, throwing it over his shoulder before supporting him when Shane nearly collapsed back to the ground.
"Please, Shane," Ilya says again, gentler, calmer, and Shane managed to meet his gaze. "Please let me take you to hospital. You need it."
Shane blinked rapidly, tears dripping down his cheeks still.
Wordlessly, he nodded, and with that Ilya helped him back to the apartment where they climbed into Ilya's car. Thankfully, everything remained dark, so that way Shane couldn't look at himself.
He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to handle it if he saw himself right now.
Ilya called the hospital on the way, telling them that it was an emergency but for a private patient, that they needed full discretion and the utmost respect for privacy. Although the woman on the other end was confused, she told them they would meet at a private service entrance, giving him directions. She asked what was the state of the emergency, and Ilya glanced over at Shane, catching the glimpse of a split lip, bruised cheek and dried... Dried fluid on his neck.
"Assault... And rape."
Shane shut his eyes at the sentence, a tear trickling down his already streaked face.
"Thank you." Ilya hung up, setting the phone in the cup holder before reaching slowly, gently taking Shane's hand and intertwining their hands together. Shane managed a weak squeeze, and he slowly moved his head over to look at him.
"I got you." Ilya says quietly, yet there's a firmness in his voice that Shane has always adored. "It will be okay."
Shane stayed quiet until they pulled up in the alley that the nurse directed him to, parking by the service entrance, and the door opened, a doctor and a nurse stepping out to meet them. Ilya stepped out first, walking up to them before he went and got Shane out of the car.
The women's eyes went wide when they recognized him but quickly maintained a professional composure, the doctor offering her hand out to him. "Doctor Sinclair."
"Ilya." He says, even though they know who he is already. "I... I have-" He cleared his throat. "Do I have your full discretion?"
"Of course. If you require us to sign an NDA, we will." She gestures to the other two nurses behind them. "We four will be the only ones on this case."
Ilya looked them all over, judging them and sizing them up before he took her at his word, and slowly stepped back to the car, opening the passenger door. It took a moment of coaxing, but he finally managed to get Shane out, holding on his hand as he stepped down, still shaky from being drugged and assaulted. He kept a firm hold on him while he shut the door, before he guided him over, where the nurse helped him into a wheelchair. Their faces when they recognized him morphed into shock, then concern, then something Ilya knew Shane hated: pity.
They remained quiet though, only saying a gentle greeting before they wheeled Shane into an exam room. Ilya took in the several trays set up, one with evidence bags and a log, a box labelled sexual assault kit, and a few other things, as well as a portable X-Ray machine and an ultrasound machine. As much as it pained Ilya, he let the nurses take over handling him, encouraging him quietly.
"I, uh... I can step out." Ilya says, knowing what had to come next. If only for his privacy, as much as it pained him to leave him because he didn't want to. Dr. Sinclair looked at him before back at Shane as he trembled from standing, his eyes glazed over as he stared at Ilya.
"Do you want him to stay, Shane?" She asks gently, and he wordlessly nods, and without thinking, reaches out a hand to him, and Ilya can't help himself from hurrying over and taking it, squeezing gently before he helped him sit on the exam table. He let go, stepping back so he was out of the way, leaning against the door in a way to protect it from opening and to have a decent vantage point to watch the nurses and doctor carefully.
But now that they were in the light, he could really see the damage done to Shane.
His upper and bottom lip were split. There was a decent sized bruise beginning to expand on his cheek, and there was a cut through his left eyebrow. He had finger print shaped marks on his neck in both directions, and Ilya didn't want to think about the implications of that at all. A nurse helped him pull off his jacket that Ilya had put back on him when they got to the car, folding it neatly before she slid it into a evidence bag. Next was his shirt, and Ilya grit his teeth as he saw bite marks, finger shaped bruises on his pecs and sides, as well as some larger bruises beginning to bloom on the right side of his ribcage, and one on his back. He must have been restrained, because there were marks around his wrists, and it made Ilya seethe.
The next part was a bit harder, and Shane tried to keep himself from crying again, but he managed to toe off his shoes, and then slowly pull down his pants, underwear and socks.
Ilya might have been sick if not for the situation at hand. Instead, he set his face like stone, his hands gripping the inside of his hoodie as he took in the dark bruises on his thighs, ass, and hips. There were teeth marks and finger prints and dried fluid...
Shane avoided his gaze, and the nurses' gazes for that matter, listening quietly to their instructions.
"We are going to take some pictures for the kit, okay?" One of them says softly, and Shane managed a nod. The other nurse zipped up the bag containing his clothing, writing out "John Doe" on the top with a code below it, the date and the type of assault. The other nurse guided him over to a blank wall, and took detailed pictures of the wounds covering his body. After that, they guided him back over to the exam table, pulling a robe over him this time so he could sit comfortably, and that's when the doctor begin to glove up.
"Okay, Shane," she says gently, her voice making his eyes flick up to her. "This part is very intrusive but very important. I am going to take a few swabs and samples, okay? If we have to stop, you just say the word."
Shane nodded, and while the other nurse cleaned herself up before she pulled on fresh gloves, Shane extended his hand out, and Ilya was to his side as if he had been summoned. He did not care anymore.
This was Shane. He needed him badly right now, and he was more than happy to provide that support. He interlaced their fingers, and without even thinking, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, his other hand stroking his hair gently to soothe him.
The women remained silent, rather touched by the image, but they did not speak a word.
First, they took a few swabs from his mouth, and then from his chest, stomach and hips. After, they had Shane put his legs up in stirrups, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut and turn his face into Ilya's chest. Ilya watched as the nurse handed three different sized swabs. Each time, Shane jumped, his body stiffening before relaxing. They did have to take a few pictures of... Well, Ilya didn't want to know, before they coaxed his legs back down and let him settle before Dr. Sinclair pulled off her gloves to pull on some new ones.
"Okay." She says gently, laying her hand on Shane's shoulder. "Very hard part is over, okay? Now, we're going to do some diagnostic tests just to make sure you do not have a concussion or any kind of bleeding, okay?"
Shane nodded slowly, and slowly, carefully, Ilya pulled away, reassuring him in whispers before he watched as they did several X-Rays and an ultrasound, drew some blood for some labs, as well as the typical concussion protocol.
One of the nurses handed him his personal possessions, his phone, keys and wallet, and Ilya frowned at the smashed phone, surprised Shane was even able to get a call to him when it looked like this. After this, he would go get him a new phone.
"Okay, Shane," Dr. Sinclair says again, still calm, soothing, and Ilya really liked her. She treated Shane well, and Ilya liked that. The nurses did the same thing. "We are done. You seem to have a minor concussion, so I would like to keep you tonight for observation."
Shane's lip trembled but he nodded anyway in silence.
"Petra is going to help you to the shower and then we will treat your injuries, okay? Now that we have collected evidence, I know you are itching to get clean." Shane was nodding before she had even finished her sentence, and without much coaxing, Petra did exactly that, supporting Shane to a small bathroom nearby, shutting the door a crack. While Ilya did not like the idea of Shane being out of his sight, he knew he wanted to be cleaned after being...
Ilya couldn't think about it or else he may just hunt the men down and kill them. That would make a fantastic headline.
He might just do it anyway.
Dr. Sinclair and the three other nurses cleaned up the room after, getting a wheelchair ready, and putting the evidence in a secure box, labelling it the same as the bags, "John Doe" but marking it as a high priority case. Ilya silently appreciated that. Petra came out of the bathroom briefly to get a pair of gloves, some swabs, an ointment container and some bandages, putting them in a tray before walking back int the bathroom.
After about twenty minutes, Petra and Shane emerged from the bathroom again. Shane was dressed in some simple gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt, hospital issued it looked like, before guiding him to the wheelchair. He now had a bandage over the cut on his forehead, and smelled like pain cream. Ilya noted it was minty.
"We are going to set you up in a very private room where only the four of us will be attending to you, okay? We will be right back." They left, leaving them alone, and so Ilya knelt in front of Shane, laying a hand on his knee gently.
"Shane," Ilya says, and after a few seconds, he manages to at least flick his eyes up to Ilya's face. "It is going to be okay. You will get through this. We will get through this. Okay?"
Shane only managed to nod at him, and Ilya instantly recognized that this was his way of trying to protect himself-by going non-verbal, possibly to avoid speaking and hurting himself more, and to just... go numb. Ilya didn't blame him, but he didn't like the idea of Shane shutting down like this either.
The doctor and nurses returned, and Ilya followed them up to a very private room, where they got Shane set up on a couple of monitors before getting him comfortable in the bed. Petra prepped a cot for him, and he was more than grateful. There was no way he was leaving Shane's side tonight. They spoke quietly, explained exactly what they expected out of both of them, before quietly taking their leave. Ilya threw his jacket to the side before looking at the cot, frowning a bit before he felt a tug on his hoodie. Turning, he gently took Shane's hand, intertwining their hands.
"What is it?" Ilya asks quietly, and Shane looks up at him sharply before back down, slowly moving over to the side of the bed to make room for him, and Ilya hesitated briefly. "Are you sure? It is not...?"
"...Please." Shane finally said, his voice so hoarse that the simple word cracked, and Ilya quickly grabbed the pillow and the blanket, toeing off his shoes before climbing into the bed with him, letting Shane find the best position, which was cuddled up against Ilya, his face buried into his neck. Ilya arranged the blanket over them before one hand tentatively laid on his waist, the other snaking underneath Shane's head to support it before he curled it to stroke Shane's still slightly damp hair. He smelled like plain soap and pain cream, but still so much like Shane. His Shane.
After a while, Ilya felt Shane's breathing slow to the point he recognized that he was asleep, and relieved, Ilya managed to shut his eyes, hoping he could sleep a little bit before he decided to give into his growing desire to find the men who did this and kill them deepened.
What are we going to do...?