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Fuck. Shane has to catch his breath, his heart racing as he takes off his helmet. The Centaurs had divided up into teams for a scrimmage, and Ilya and Shane had made a little deal. Whoever’s team wins tonight gets to fuck the other however he wants. And the other has to do it right after the game, in front of the whole team.
And Shane’s team just lost.
It had been a hard-fought game; Shane would never throw a match. But Ilya’s team had managed to get one more goal in the end. So Shane lost. And everyone knows what’s going to happen next.
Ilya skates up, his face already gloating before he’s in chirping range. He shoves Shane around before pushing him into the boards face first, his hand solid as it shoves Shane’s face against the plexiglass. He shoves his thigh right between Shane’s legs and blatantly humps into Shane to bump him into the boards. Shane lets him do it without protest, even as he gets embarrassed thinking about how many people are watching. Because that’s the deal.
“Are you ready to get fucked, krolik?” Ilya’s voice is loud, unbothered by how it echoes in the rink. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, I’m sure our teammates will love seeing it too.”
He doesn’t let Shane answer before swooping in to nip at his ear, and Shane lets out a little squeak.
Ilya laughs and then takes mercy on him. He slips back, spinning Shane around to look at him and smile smugly in his face. He then slaps Shane’s face good-naturedly a few times before skating off and yelling. “Hurry up. I have plans. My dick in your mouth plans.”
Shane knows his face is red. But he can’t help the excitement that’s rising inside his body.
He tries not to make eye contact with others around as he skates off the ice and heads to the locker room. Still, he can feel the tension in the air, from himself and those around him.
When he gets to the locker room, Ilya is already there. Other team members are milling around, starting to get changed. There’s the regular kind of rumble and conversation happening, but it’s subdued, and people keep sneaking glances at Shane since they know what’s to come.
Ilya throws off his outer layers and then drops himself down onto a bench, legs spread and cocky. He’s looking heatedly at Shane with a big crooked smile on his face.
Shane stays in the doorway, waiting for instructions. He doesn’t have to wait long.
“Strip,” Ilya says, voice deceptively light for how commanding it is. Shane takes a few steps in and starts to take off his gear, too. With every piece, it feels like a weight is coming off of him, as he gives himself over to Ilya.
The bulkier stuff comes first. Then the skintight athletic gear. He pauses when he gets to his underwear, looking to Ilya for more instructions. Ilya just raises his eyebrows, so Shane takes that off too, his hands only shaking a little. He hears a murmur around the room, but he keeps his eyes forward, focused on Ilya.
When he’s naked, Ilya takes a finger and twirls it around, requesting that he spin. Shane resists the urge to bitch at him, since it’s not that kind of scene. The seriousness combined with cockiness goes straight to his chest, his heart rate spiking up and breathing getting heavier. He spins, slowly, letting Ilya look at all of him.
“On your knees,” Ilya commands when Shane is facing him again, and Shane drops down right away. The locker room floor is cold and hard, but he doesn’t care. “Crawl to me.”
Shane takes a breath and crawls over to him, on his hands and knees. He tries not to focus on the eyes he can feel on him, the way the locker room gets quieter before some remember to keep talking, pretending like things are normal. The voices don’t sound normal, still too on edge, but he can’t deny how it turns him on more to hear them. A reminder of the audience, a desire for them to treat him flippantly. Like it’s natural for him to come warm Ilya’s cock after practice.
He makes his way in between Ilya’s legs, determined to keep his focus on him. Ilya’s eyes are lidded, his face flushed and sweat matting his hair from practice. Despite that, he still manages to look very pleased with himself and in control in the moment. He pulls Shane up by the face so that he’s sitting up on his knees, eager between his legs. He pets Shane’s hair back in a way that would be sweet if it weren’t for his mocking expression. That, and the way he tightens his grip and shoves Shane’s face into his crotch right after.
Shane gasps, deeply inhaling the musk between Ilya’s legs as a result. He can smell it even through his shorts, the scent of sweat and Ilya’s groin after a hard practice. His legs feel weak and he sways, falling further into Ilya’s crotch. Ilya’s grip on his hair doesn’t allow him to pull back. His skin prickles, catching the cold air of the room and the feeling of many eyes on him. His heart is pounding. He likes this so much. The edge of shame, of knowing others are watching, only adds to the feeling.
“You are going to be a good little boy and worship my cock. Keep it warm and wet, puck bunny.” Ilya is clearly having fun with this. Shane can hear him smirking through his words.
Ilya uses his big hands in Shane's hair to rub Shane’s face against his clothed crotch. Shane breathes in and leans into the motion, nuzzling into him. He can feel Ilya’s hardness through the fabric and rubs against it with his cheek, tilting his face up to look at Ilya. Ilya looks down at him with hot eyes, and Shane flutters his own eyes closed, turning his face back in and nuzzling at Ilya’s bulge with his nose.
“Little kotenok. Like bitch in heat.” Ilya thrusts his hips, humping Shane’s face. “Cock slut.” Shane lets out a little whine.
Ilya drops his hand, already shoving a few fingers in Shane’s mouth as he says, “Open.” Shane opens easily, dropping his jaw. “Wider.” Shane opens his mouth wider, sticking his tongue out slightly and breathing heavily.
Ilya fingers his mouth, exploring the ridges and bumps as Shane starts to drool around his hand. Ilya runs his fingers over Shane’s palate, causing him to shiver at the sensation, and pulls his tongue farther out. Ilya then thrusts his fingers deep. The sensation on the back of his tongue makes Shane go hazy, wanting more.
Ilya pushes Shane’s tongue down and holds it there, watching Shane’s clouded eyes with a smug look. “Show me how much you need it. I’m not going to give you my cock until you prove you deserve it, whore.”
Shane whines. “I need it,” he tries, the words coming out garbled with Ilya’s fingers holding his tongue down. He can’t control how much he’s drooling, either, with his mouth held open. “I need your cock.”
Ilya smirks down at him. “You can do better than that.”
“I need your cock so bad, please. Please, I wanna suck it. Want it down my throat.” Shane feels tears prickling in his eyes. He sounds, and feels, pathetic. Drool drips down, cold on his bare chest and thighs.
Despite the distorted sounds, Ilya knows what he’s saying. He fucks his fingers back into Shane’s throat, and Shane whines, his eyes rolling back.
“I know what you need. You need it more than air. Fucking slut.” Shane tries to nod, tears still in the corner of his eyes, but his motion is limited by Ilya- his fingers in his mouth and his hand twisted in Shane’s hair, holding him in place.
“Fine,” Ilya sighs, pretending to be reluctant. “But you better do a good job. I am not here to do what you want, I am here to fuck your face.” He pulls his hand out of Shane’s mouth and wipes it sloppily on Shane’s face before finally tugging his shorts down. He pushes Shane’s face back into his crotch, where he’s still wearing underwear. “Take them off.”
Shane nuzzles into Ilya’s package again, overwhelmed by the smell. Then he leans up and starts peeling the fabric off with his mouth. He’s careful to keep his teeth away from any sensitive bits, so it takes a little bit, especially with Ilya keeping a tight grip on his head. When he frees it, Ilya’s dick springs out to hit him in the face, causing him to flinch briefly.
Ilya laughs, thrusting his dick against Shane’s face a few times, not letting him escape. Then he slaps it against Shane’s face, too. He leaves shiny residue as he goes, sweat and precum, now spread onto Shane’s freckles.
“So pretty. Is good that you’re good at the one thing that really matters for you. Sucking cock.” He places his dick and Shane’s lips. “Kiss it.” And Shane does, reverently. “Show everyone what you really love to do.” Shane kisses his tip, up his shaft, and underneath, leading up to his balls, before taking them in his mouth and starting to suck.
“Ohh, yeah, that’s nice.” Ilya’s hands twist in his hair, holding him down as he widens his legs and leans back. “Yeah, your mouth was made for this. Made to serve other men’s dicks, suck balls.” He laughs, sharp and mean. “I bet if you’d won, you’d be in exact same place, begging me to use your throat.” Shane moans around him, Ilya’s words spreading like electricity through him. He rolls his tongue around Ilya’s sensitive flesh, cradled warmly in his mouth.
“Did you only get into this sport so you could find men who could put you on your back, make you serve their cocks? Be a team fuck toy?” Shane whines into him again, desperate and getting off on the humiliating words. “Shush, don’t think. Just do what you’re meant to do and serve me.”
Ilya’s cock twitches, hard and warm where it’s currently pressed across Shane’s forehead as he sucks on his balls. Precum is leaking out of it and onto Shane as he nuzzles into Ilya’s groin. “As nice as this is, is time we put your mouth back to its actual purpose.” He tugs on Shane’s hair until Shane lets his balls pop out of his mouth with a wet sound. Ilya drags him by the hair to the top of his shaft, Shane panting hot breaths against it.
“Show me how much you love my cock.” Shane kisses the tip gently, before opening his mouth for more. He laves a wet tongue over it, eyes closing in pleasure, before closing his lips around it and sucking on it sweetly. He opens his mouth a bit wider, letting spit drool out and drip down Ilya’s shaft. He licks at the frenulum, drinking in Ilya’s grunt. Then he gives the whole shaft a broad lick, like a lollipop, before going back to open wet kisses at the top, like he’s making out with Ilya’s cock.
Ilya tips his head back in pleasure as he tightens his hands in Shane’s hair and pushes him down farther. Shane opens his mouth wider, dropping down to take more and more into his mouth with every bob of his head. He hums and drools, tracing his tongue below what fits in his mouth. He lets little gasps and sighs escape on the upstrokes before diving back in with fervor. He wraps his mouth around most of Ilya’s cock, rolling it around in his mouth as he flicks his tongue around on the sensitive spots. When he finally manages to take Ilya down to the root he suckles at it, groaning as he feels it fill his throat and cut off his airways while his nose is buried in Ilya’s sweaty pubic hair.
Shane pulls back to take a longer breath, lightheaded, and gets a hand around Ilya’s base. He jerks him off with the excess drool that’s gathered there, leaning forward to place more wet kisses down Ilya’s shaft as he does like he just can't help it.
“Mm, yes,” Ilya hums. “You’re a good, cock drunk whore. But don’t forget why you are here.” Ilya pulls Shane’s head back and places the tip of his cock back in his lax mouth. Shane stares up at him with dazed, loving eyes. “You are here to be my hole.”
He thrusts hard, burying his whole cock down Shane’s throat in one fell swoop. Shane’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he keens around Ilya’s cock, drooling and feeling his throat spasm around him as Ilya’s balls slap into his chin. He makes a wet noise around Ilya’s cock and his back arches, dick aching between his legs. He grabs at Ilya’s thighs, clinging on desperately.
Ilya uses his hand on the back of Shane’s head to move him back and forth. With the other, he grasps at Shane’s throat as he continues thrusting, feeling himself fuck it from the outside. “Doesn’t matter what you want, you’re just a wet hole to stick my dick in.” The bulge moves back and forth under his hand and he squeezes it with his thrusts, cutting off even more of Shane’s precious air supply.
Loud wet noises fill the air. Shane’s throat is tight and wet, so soft and hot, and the vibrations from his moans feel great. “Gonna suck me down and take my seed.”
Shane moans, from low in his throat. He’s lightheaded, and Ilya fills up his throat so completely. It feels so full. The hand on his head moves him like a doll, and Ilya's other hand feels like he’s trying to jerk himself off through Shane’s throat, like Shane is just a toy to get himself off with. The thought makes Shane keen desperately around Ilya’s cock.
The tight wet passage manages to get even tighter around Ilya. “Fucking slut,” he grits out amid the squelching noises. “You love being used by me.” Without looking up, he throws out words to the room, “Doesn’t he look good, boys?”
There’s shuffling, some intake of breath around the locker room. The small noises had been there the whole time, but most had been distracted by the main attraction. Now the attention came back to them. After a couple more wet thrusts, someone brave enough responds. A deep voice says, “Yeah, captain. He looks good.”
Ilya smirks. Good, he’s trying to show something off here.
Shane’s arms have found their way over Ilya’s thighs, wrapping themselves around Ilya’s waist to squeeze at his back. He pulls Ilya towards him, face pushing into his groin, urging him to fuck faster and deeper into his throat. Ilya laughs and gives a few lingering deep thrusts, then stops, dragging Shane up by his hair. Shane sucks in several desperate breaths, his eyes unfocused, and whines pitifully.
“What did I just say? Is not for you.” Ilya nudges Shane’s hard cock with his foot and watches as he crumples in on himself, as if he’d forgotten about his dick and any touch sent all the sensation flooding back. His hips thrust shallowly against Ilya’s foot, like he can’t help it. “I don’t care what you want or if you get off. You’re just a throat for me.” Shane keens and goes slack, and Ilya pulls his foot back.
Ilya thrusts back into his warm, wet mouth, and this time Shane just takes it. He doesn’t bob his head or choke; instead, his mouth goes lax and drops even farther open. His eyes flutter shut as he lets Ilya plunder his fully open throat. Ilya buries both hands in Shane’s hair, fucking him roughly. He’s able to get even deeper this time, Shane’s nose buried in the curls of his pubic hair and his tongue slicking against his balls with every thrust, drool getting everywhere. Shane still lets out little noises, unable to help himself, but they’re more subdued and dreamy.
Ilya thrusts all the way down his throat and then holds his head down, grunting. Shane’s throat tightens around him as he stays buried, squeezing him like a good little toy. He pulls his head back and does it again, his balls resting against Shane’s chin. He can feel them tightening, ready to release soon.
“God, your throat is so good, Hollander. But I want to cum on your face.” He pulls his cock out, wet strings of spit and precum slicking it’s way and then stringing between them. Shane gasps and shudders as they snap in his face, looking up at Ilya with his mouth hanging open. His hands squeeze against his thighs, where he’d put them after being reprimanded.
Ilya knots one hand in Shane’s hair and tilts his head back for a good angle. “Almost there, Hollander. What a good mouth.” He strips his cock over Shane’s face, hand sliding slickly through the wet mess that coats it. “Close your eyes now.”
Shane obeys, moaning, and Ilya can feel his hot breath wash over his cock. Ilya feels the heat and pressure rising, up through the tip of his cock. He bites out Russian curses and cums all over Shane’s face, marking him all over. It even gets into his hair, which Ilya is childishly pleased about. As the stripes land on him, Shane keens, loud and plaintive, squirming where he sits. Some of it drips down into his mouth, making him gasp and whine more.
When he’s done, Ilya’s body sags down with heavy breaths, his hand still in Shane's hair. Shane also lists forward, leaning closer to Ilya with his eyes closed. Ilya’s cock rests against Shane’s neck, softening against him.
Ilya catches his breath and wipes sweaty hair out of his face, finally looking around. The locker room is full of sweaty men in various states of dress, long past pretending like they weren’t all watching intently. Some have their hands around themselves, either frozen or still moving, while others have their hands gripping something else to keep them busy. In the sudden quiet, their breathing and the small sounds of movement stand out.
“Was a good show,” Ilya says. He’s pleased, but his eyes narrow possessively. The rest of this is for himself. “Now get out.”
There’s a bit of silence, and then some awkward sounds and shuffling, before the locker room comes to life again. There are some muttered words, either talking to themselves or at others, and someone definitely says, “Fuck, captain.” As the room fills with sound again, some head to the showers, others turn for the bathroom stalls, and others just head out. A few stragglers struggle to throw things in their bags quickly before they can leave, unprepared for the abrupt dismissal.
Ilya strokes a soothing hand across Shane’s hairline to just behind his ear, making the other man shiver.
“Very good for me, dorogoy,” he croons. “Moy lubimyi. So sweet.”
Shane shivers again, eyes still closed, and sways closer to him. He presses his forehead into Ilya’s abdomen and Ilya pets his hair nicely, letting him come down as the other men clear out.
When Shane starts to actually shiver from the cold, Ilya hauls him up into his lap. Shane’s arms fly onto Ilya to steady himself at the sudden movement, then he melts into him when he finds his balance. Ilya starts cleaning the cum off of his face with his fingers, popping them into Shane’s mouth to feed it to him. Shane opens his mouth and swallows so sweetly and obediently. Slowly, when most of his face is clear, he opens his eyes. He looks at Ilya with such trust and adoration that Ilya’s heart kicks back into gear.
“So beautiful,” he says, kissing Shane’s cheek. Shane smells like his natural musk, unshowered after practice, but also of cum and Ilya. Ilya kisses all over his face, his nose, his other cheek, his chin, his forehead. How did he get so lucky?
He drops his hand to Shane’s cock, ready to jerk him off, but Shane jolts and leans back. “No,” he gasps. “Not now. I got what I need.” Ilya nods. Sometimes Shane doesn’t want to get off every time, especially after certain types of scenes.
Shane pushes his face into Ilya’s neck and just holds him tight. Ilya holds him back, an arm around his waist squeezing their bodies together as his other hand holds Shane’s head in place and pets through his hair. Shane lets out a pleased sigh and Ilya’s heart swells several sizes. God, he loves this man.