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Shane Hollander smiled when he saw the game schedule posted for the 2015-2016 hockey season in the locker room. He searched for BOS, there it was, Thursday, October 23rd. He immediately texted “Lily”,
“Feel like getting murdered in a dark scary alley in Mtl in 2 weeks?”
“More like, what do the French say, la petite mort?”
Shane blushed. Ilya was making a pun about orgasms. He couldn’t wait.
The summer had been an uneventful bore, his only thrill was seeing text notifications from “Lily”. Lily was not a woman, of course, the texts were from his arch rival, Ilya Rosanov. Over the summer, Ilya was texting him at all hours because of the time difference in Russia. To Shane’s surprise, most of them were coming in around between eight to nine at night while he was reading in bed. That meant either Ilya was getting up very early or staying out until morning. He guessed the latter, knowing Ilya’s lack of discipline, but also because of the subject matter of the texts.
When Shane was alone at night, which was all the time, occasionally he would look through the messages Ilya sent him. His favorites were after Ilya had been out all night drinking, he assumed. He particularly enjoyed the ones that read:
“I watch games for training, that Montreal game in December got me hard.”
And,
“Do you think about we play with sticks and then we play with each other sticks?”
But the one he re-read over and over again was,
“How many times have you used the dildo this summer?”
Shane did not respond to that text. The truth was, he had been indulging quite a bit, and the only person he was thinking of while he pleasured himself was Ilya. Nothing in the world made him feel terrified and horny at the same time. Shane liked rules and Ilya was certainly against the rules. But his face, his lips, his dick, invaded Shane’s mind every time he decided to gratify those pounding urges.
Two weeks couldn’t come fast enough.
Ilya Rozanov had not enjoyed the summer. His ailing father and idiot brother were constant triggers for stress. He would drown it out at the clubs in Moscow and in the beds of beautiful women. When he was feeling especially lonely and depressed, he would text his secret lover, Shane fucking Hollander. Sometimes they would text about hockey, other times Ilya would tempt Shane into sexting, but he was very bad at it.
When he was alone at his apartment in the city center, he would lie in bed and touch himself conjuring images of Shane’s body, his mouth, and perfect bubble butt taking his cock hard and rough. When that brought him over the edge, he would rub him chest and think about Shane’s freckles sprinkled on his cheeks or his smile that rarely peeked out from his resting serious face. He wasn’t even angry when the Montreal Metros won The Cup. The pure joy emulating from Shane was a spectacle to behold. Not that Ilya wanted to see him win it again; now they were even.
Ilya yearned to make another memory with Shane, maybe just one more would be enough so he could stop. No, nothing could stop him.
It was game day. After Shane whipped Ilya’s ass on the ice, he was going to get his ass fucked to high heaven. A text from “Lily” popped up on his phone,
“Ready for some foreplay?”
Shane’s breath hitched. Holy shit he could feel his dick swell under his cup.
“Fuck you.”
He hated when Ilya did this to him right before a game. Or maybe he liked it a little too much.
“Yes.”
Shane watched the the ellipsis pulsate, biting down on the corner of his thumb nail.
“Ok I won’t go easy on you.. I know you like it rough”
Shane thought he was going combust. Ilya was next door in the visitor’s locker room, but he could feel him everywhere. The first time he would see Ilya after four arduous months was during the face-off. He was going to get that puck, if only to teach Ilya not to make him so damn hard before the game.
Ilya didn’t torture Shane by walking at a sluggish pace towards the back door this time, it was a played out joke by now. But he had another one up his sleeve.
“Are you feeling sick? Because I do not want to get sick. You were very slow tonight,” He said pushing Shane against the wall in the staircase keeping an arm’s length.
“Fuck you! I won!” Shane slapped Ilya’s arm away.
Ilya pushed him again with both hands and slightly more force, “You’re team won, but you were slow.”
“You’re such an asshole,” Shane laughed. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Shane seized at the sides of Ilya’s face and dragged him in for a kiss. Ilya went willingly, closing the distance between them by sliding his hands up the cold concrete wall. He prodded at Shane’s crotch with his knee adding some friction.
The blaring sound of a car alarm separated them like opposing magnets. Shane’s heart was raced, it felt like it was going to fly out of his chest. Ilya could see him freaking out, it was written all over his face.
“You have a phobia of car horns, Hollander?,” he said, hoping it would make Shane laugh, or at least prevent a panic attack.
“Fuck you, I was—startled. Let’s go.”
As they ascended the stairs Ilya attempted to tussle his silky dark brown hair, but Shane swatted at his hand.
“Such a scaredy cat,” Ilya sassed as they rode up the service elevator. They stood a respectable distance apart and looked forward.
“Fuck off, you backed away too.”
“Yeah but I didn’t freak out.”
Shane turned his face towards Ilya’s, “You can leave, you know.”
Ilya rotated his body to face Shane, “And miss out on your reward?”
Shane’s eyes darted around the enclosed space spotting the camera in the corner, a good reminder as to why he couldn’t fall to his knees and take Ilya right there.
Shane urgently walked through the threshold of his sanctuary and felt Ilya yank the back of his sweatshirt twisting him back for a kiss.
“See, too slow.” Ilya said into the crook of his neck.
“You keep this up, I won’t show you the surprise.”
Ilya tilted his head back to look Shane in the eyes, “Surprise? For me?”
“Yes,” Shane smiled.
Ilya forced him backwards towards the living room attempting to shove Shane on to his leather couch, but he resisted his efforts.
“What, you don’t want to dirty you expensive couch again?”
Shane attacked Ilya’s lips and propelled him against the wall, “I have a plan, it involves going upstairs.”
Ilya whirled him around dominating the kiss while Shane began ripping off his light blue sweatshirt that he thought complimented his eyes. They haphazardly ascended the stairs kissing and grabbing at each other’s faces and clothes. Their joint enthusiasm was electric.
Shane landed on the bed with a shove, his pristine white hoodie discarded, unfolded, somewhere in the hallway. He salivated as Ilya stripped the few clothes he had left exposing his gorgeous toned body and magnificent dick. Ilya started to lazily stroke his cock at eye level with Shane who was in a daze.
“Come on Hollander, I know you want it.”
Shane gulped and leaned forward, “No.”
Ilya sneered. “No?”
“What? No, yes, the surprise.” Shane slid towards his night stand and opened the drawer to reveal his dildo.
“Oh my god, Hollander, okay! What is the—.” The sight of the rubber phallic toy cut off all the circuits to his brain. Ilya was continuously shocked by Shane’s slutty side, but this was on another level.
Shane looked at Ilya who appeared stoic, unmoving, then at his dildo in his hand slightly wiggling upright, then back at Ilya. His neck reddened with embarrassment.
When Ilya’s brain could finally could compute, he said, “It is skin colored, I thought maybe pink or blue.”
“Why would it be pink or blue? Never mind! I’ll put it away.”
Ilya crawled over to the bed tearing the dildo out of his hand. “No, no, no, Hollander, it is my surprise!” Shane wrestled Ilya, pinning him to the bed by his forearms trying to reclaim his toy. As they jostled Ilya yelled, “Tell me, tell me the plan!”
Shane relented and sighed deeply into Ilya’s neck. “I wanted to use it while I was sucking your cock.”
Slack-jawed, Ilya’s head tilted backwards as he moaned. He rolled over taking Shane with him and kissed him deeply shoving his tongue into Shane’s greedy mouth.
“I had no idea how naughty you are,” Ilya growled, biting his neck, restraining to leave a blemish. Although, maybe he could do Shane a favor with his teammates, show them he’s getting laid. They didn’t have to know it was a man; nevertheless, his industry nemesis was the one leaving bite marks.
Shane stretched his neck giving Ilya more access. “Shit—I knew you would like it,” he murmured soaking with pride.
Shane weaved his fingers through Ilya’s hair as he teased his hole with is tongue. Ilya generously lapped at Shane’s puckered entrance while his stiff dick found little friction on the soft sheets.
“Fuck Rozanov, I want it.” Ilya had to agree he was prolonging his endeavor, but he wanted to please Shane, even if that meant delaying his own gratification.
After careful lubricated prodding, Shane was ready for the next part of the plan. He suctioned the base of the dildo to the wooden bench at the end of his bed. Ilya stood there in disbelief, this was Shane’s idea, he probably thought it over in his head a thousand times. Or maybe he did this with every guy he brought here. Unlikely, but still possible. He wasn’t jealous, not at all.
Ilya snapped out of his spiral; Shane was putting a condom on the dildo.
“What are you doing? It can’t get you pregnant.”
“Fuck you! You’ll thank me later.” Shane said through gritted teeth. Ilya was frustratingly intoxicating. He lined himself up, holding the plastic cock steady. He hooked his arm around Ilya’s waist and sank down with a hiss. This was the moment he waited all summer for, to take Ilya in his mouth while feeling completely full. The last time they were together, he wished there were two of Ilya. The familiar salty taste of Ilya’s cock while being filled to the hilt with his substitute was a more than decent alternative.
Ilya stared in amazement as Shane sucked his cock as he rose and fell from the bench. It was perfect height to squat up and down with ease. Ilya’s orgasm was threatening; it occurred to him Shane must have practiced. He pulled out of Shane’s mouth before the whole affair ended too soon.
Shane looked up at him in a haze. Ilya grabbed him from under his arms and threw him on the bed. He sank to his knees and took Shane in his mouth. He squeezed Shane’s pecs as he swallowed his entire length down his throat.
Shane could feel his balls tighten in Ilya’s grasp. He didn’t want it to end before Ilya’s had fucked him. He tugged at the blonde curls between his legs and watched a thin trail of saliva break between Ilya’s mouth and his cock that slapped back against his stomach.
“Condom—get a condom.” Ilya knew where Shane kept the condoms, always fully stocked in the same place. He poured a generous amount of lube on his cock and Shane’s opening. Ilya brought his legs up in the air to rest on his chest and dove in.
“Fucking fuck Rozanov!,” Shane yelped as he took him to the tilt.
Ilya rapidly rocked his hips, plunging into Shane.
“You might want to get a new dildo, I am much bigger.”
Shane failed to utter a witty retort. Waves of pleasure crashed into him over and over again, eroding the nerves that connected his brain to his voice box.
Ilya wanted to savor this moment longer than his dick could hold out. He slowed, still giving Shane his entire length with each thrust. Then he had an idea. He snatched the dildo from the bench with his fist and lowered himself over Shane.
He understood now. The condom was for Shane. An unspoken command pierced into Shane’s eyes. His shaking hands peeled off the condom and he opened his mouth wide. This time, it was Ilya’s turn to stun Shane.
Ilya rubbed the silicon head around Shane’s lips. “You want this?,” he asked.
Shane gulped, “Yeah, give it to me.”
Shane’s salivating tongue chased the toy as Ilya misdirected it to his own lips and started to suck. Shane’s jaw dropped in awe. Ilya was fucking him at an agonizingly slow pace while feeding himself with Shane’s training dick. This was so much better than he could have possibly imagined.
Ilya watched Shane stare at him, rocking his body, desperately trying to speed it up. “Please, Rozanov. Fuck me harder.”
He folded Shane in half and growled, “Beg.”
“Jesus Christ! Please—please fuck me. Give me your cock. I need it.”
Ilya increased his speed. “You want this too,” he said while twirling his tongue around the tip dripped with his spit.
“Yes—please,” Shane chocked out.
“Please what?” Ilya wanted to hear him say it.
“Please let me suck it.”
Ilya jammed the disembodied cock into Shane’s mouth. He thought he was going to die at the sight. Shane was an absolute freak. And in this moment, his freak. Ilya fucked Shane with all his might; making sure he didn’t accidentally suffocate him.
Shane couldn’t warn Ilya, his mouth was stuffed. He shot on Ilya’s chest and all the way up to his chin. The tightness around Ilya’s cock brought him to his end. He collapsed onto Shane, panting with euphoria.
When Ilya finally opened his eyes, he saw the toy slick on the bed glistening with Shane’s saliva. Shane was rubbing Ilya’s back in a circular motion while trying to catch his breath.
Ilya rolled over; Shane winced at the loss. Ilya grabbed his chin and kissed him. “That was—.”
“So fucking hot,” Shane said, finishing Ilya’s thought.
“That was best surprise,” Ilya smiled looking over at Shane’s teary eyes. He softly wiped away them away with the back of his knuckle and caressed his face.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Shane whispered as they gazed at each other.
Ilya was overwhelmed by the intimacy. The endorphins rushing though his body were tricking him into believing they were something more than fuck buddies. They couldn’t be more than that, it wasn’t allowed, it was forbidden.
He got up and went to the bathroom. Ilya had made it a habit of getting a warm washcloth to clean Shane. He hated feeling sticky. In reality, it was for Ilya’s own benefit, this way he had more time to hold Shane in the afterglow without sensing his itch to rinse off.
Shane held Ilya’s arm that hung over his torso while he tangled his fingers though his silky brown hair. Shane looked at the ceiling, he could sense Ilya’s stare, but he refused to meet his eyes. This was always that part of the night the nausea bubbled in his stomach. After this, all he had was the crippling desire for a next time.
“I can’t wait to see what trick you have for me in three weeks.” Ilya’s words eased the ache in Shane’s abdomen like sweet medicine. His head fell to the side and tenderly touched Ilya’s beautiful face, losing all restraint.
Ilya’s heart skipped a beat, he couldn’t lay in Shane’s bed any longer, that look, his smell, it was all debilitating. If he didn’t leave now, he was going to reveal something he would regret, so instead he said, “I better go, I’ve got an early flight to Denver. The time change kills me.”
“Yeah, same, I should go to sleep. We’re headed to Vegas. Unfortunately, we’re not staying at Fontainebleau,” Shane said, his cheeks rising with a blush.
Fucking Hollander. Ilya knew what he meant. He rolled away and rose from the bed. Ilya started to put on his boxers and jeans with his back to Shane. He was glad Shane remembered the night of MLH awards in his Penthouse suite fondly, because he felt disgusted with himself. He was too rough and detached after Shane’s courageous display. Now he was walking the tightrope of keeping this thing between them casual while also caring about Shane as a person who obviously wanted friendship at the very least.
Ilya turned back with his chest exposed still sleek with sweat, “What, you want to give me another performance, Hollander?”
Shane remembered himself. He was showing too many of his cards. Back to his poker face. He cleared his throat, “I think your sweatshirt is still in the living room.”
They traveled down the service elevator and descended the stairs to the private exit in silence.
Just before Ilya opened the door, he pulled Shane in for a goodbye kiss. “See you in Boston. You come to my house, yes?”
Shane smiled, “You’re finally inviting me over to your house?”
“Yes,” Ilya said, “no cousins or friends visiting from Russia to bother us.”
“Cool. I’ll see you there.”
Another more peck couldn’t hurt, so Ilya kissed Shane one last time.
“Bye, Hollander.”
“Goodbye Rozanov.”
Neither of them got much sleep that night, regardless of how their evening escapade depleted all their energy. Shane and Ilya both told themselves they needed to stop. However, when Shane arrived in Boston the day before their match, he got a car and headed to 2886 Beacon Street.