Work Text:
2014
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Shane drummed his fingers anxiously on the table top. A glass of Gingerale sitting in front of him, the glass sweaty from condensation. The ice had long since melted, leaving a water down amber colour in the clear glass.
Beside his drumming fingers his phone sat, face down, volume on. It had been months since he’d heard from Ilya, since their argument in Sochi at the Olympics. Shane had considered reaching out many times, asking how he was, what he was doing. But that wasn’t what they were to each other, Rozanov had made that painfully clear.
Shane had spent hours telling himself he should have known better, and he did know. He knew what they were to each other, at no time had Ilya claimed to be more. This made the ache in his chest all the more frustrating.
He should be up, talking and mingling with his team. He should be celebrating their win against the Admirals tonight. He should be chatting with the Admiral’s who had followed them to the bar to join them for their celebration.
There were a million things Shane should or could be doing. But instead, he sat like he was glued to his seat. A bowling ball sized weight in his chest that couldn’t be explained.
He was so wrapped in his own thoughts, Shane had failed to notice the booth dipping slightly next to him as a warm body slid in beside him.
It wasn’t until fingers started drumming with his own that his eyes were dragged up from the dark wood of the table, meeting with soft dark brown eyes.
“You doin okay?” Scott’s voice was gentle as he spoke, eyes raking over Shane’s appearance. Taking in his face, his clothes, and the abandoned drink on the table.
The bowling ball felt like it had doubled in size the way it always did when he had to justify and hide the reasons for his feelings.
Shane swallowed thickly against the rising panic in his throat. “Yeah, uh, good game tonight.” He aimed for casual as his hand wrapped around his glass and lifted it in a half hearted toast.
Scott’s eyes didn’t leave his, his face didn’t change like others did when Shane failed to answer properly. It stayed gentle, soft and assessing.
Shane tried to keep his eyes locked on Scott’s, not wanting to let them wander. The vulnerability in his chest felt like a cavern. If he opened it up he’s not sure how far it would go. But Scott was handsome, and he was kind. He wasn’t Ilya, but something in Shane’s brain argued that might be good. Different was good.
He’s so focused on not letting those thoughts spiral further than they should that he misses the way Scott’s teeth tug at his bottom lip, misses the concern in Scott’s eyes.
“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the celebration.” Scott’s voice is light as he gestures with the half empty glass in his hand towards the other celebrating athletes.
Shane can’t help but to snort and shake his head a little, “I never really do. I’m not ever sure why I come to these things. Perks of being Captain I guess.” It’s more than he’s said to anyone since arriving at the bar and parking himself at this table. It surprises him a little at how easy talking to Scott feels.
Scott laughs warmly and nods his head like he understands, the eye contact between the two men finally breaking as the older man’s eyes shift around the bar nervously. Looking for what Shane isn’t sure.
Not until Scott leans in a little closer, the smell of his cologne filling Shane’s nose and overriding any sense of logical thought. The warmth of his body sends a pleasant tingle all over Shane’s skin. An invisible force tugging somewhere deep in his chest, he can’t place it.
“You uh, you wanna get out of here?” The words are quiet, hesitant in a way Scott hadn’t been all night. The air turned thick as the question hung between them waiting for an answer.
Shane wondered if Scott did this a lot, if he picked up other hockey players and took them home - or if there was something about Shane that was giving away how much he liked that idea. Shane swallowed, let out a long breath and nodded. It was barely a movement of his chin but Scott’s eyes caught it.
A breath of relief fell from Scott’s lips, and tension faded from his shoulders as he brought back his easy going smile. “Here, give me your phone.” He held out his hand, and when Shane slipped his phone in the man's palm he typed rapidly for a few moments before handing it back.
“There, now you have my number and I -” He paused, fishing his own phone out of his pocket and displaying the text he had sent from Shane’s phone, “have yours.” Scott’s tongue darted out and wet his lips, eyes growing darker with the passing seconds. He looked down at his phone and unlocked it, typing out another message and hitting send.
Shane’s phone pinged, face up in his palm, an address. Shane could feel the blood rushing in his ears as his heart beat faster and his face warmed up. A spark of excitement surged through him.
“I’ll go make the rounds, say goodbye to my team.” Scott paused, giving Shane a deliberately slow once over. “Meet me there in 30 minutes?”
Shane felt the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile, ducking his head into his chest and nodding. “I’ll see you in 30.”
__
Shane couldn’t help his nerves as he rode the elevator up to Scott’s apartment, excitement and anxiety waging wars in his stomach and in his mind. Skin flushed and tingling, everything felt charged and overwhelming.
The elevator doesn’t take long to come to a smooth stop at the top floor, opening to a small landing with one door. The shaking in his hands picked up as he stepped out of the elevator and closed the small distance between him and the door.
Before he could overthink it, or run away, he rang the doorbell. Scott, to his credit, opens the door instantly, cutting any lingering thoughts of running away off. His breath is caught in his throat at the sight of Scott. The older man had changed out of his bar attire and was now dressed down in a simple pair of grey sweats that hung low on his hips and hid nothing, and a tight white t-shirt.
Both the door and Scott’s smile widened as Shane was ushered inside. “You came.” His voice is soft, almost in disbelief.
“Yeah, I uh -” Shane swallows and turns back to look at Scott, who has now closed the door and taken a few steps closer into Shane’s personal bubble. One of his large strong hands came up to rest gently on Shane’s waste, causing his brain to short circuit. “Seemed like more fun than the bar.” He finally manages to push out, forcing his eyes to lock onto Scott’s. Flicking down for only a moment to look at his lips.
Scott’s hand came up slowly and caressed Shane’s cheek gently until two fingers rested under his chin, tilting his face up just slightly. “No harm in a little fun, right?” He asked almost breathlessly as he leaned in. Shane heard the question for what it was. Confirmation that the two of them were on the same page for what this was.
Shane closed the distance, whispering against the older man’s lips “No harm at all.” Before the breath is stolen from his lungs in a hungry kiss. The hand Scott has on his waste sliding around his back and up under his shirt. Fingers dancing on bare skin turns to a desperate grip.
The hand on his chin travels over his throat and back into his hair, tangling firm and gentle. Shane gasps, arms coming up to wrap around Scott’s shoulder’s, hands wrapping in his hair as leans in closer and deepens the kiss.
He can feel Scott’s chest heaving as he breathes deeply, the hands on his body roaming, getting more frantic by the second as they try and ruck up his shirt and pull his hair all at once. It’s intoxicating, and it has shut off the part of his brain that Shane so regularly struggles to shut off.
Scott pulls back from his kiss and dives into Shane’s neck, licking, biting and sucking gently. Nothing hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to cause goosebumps to form all over Shane’s body as he lets his head fall back and a low groan falls out.
“Tell me what you want Shane.” Scott's voice is husky and thick as he breathes the words into Shane’s ear, dipping to bite at his lobe before running his tongue down his throat again.
Shane’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as he tries to find the answers. He knows what he wants, with Ilya he wouldn’t have to say much. He might say “You” and Ilya would take the reins from there. But with Scott, breathing into his neck, he’s suddenly aware of how much he doesn’t know how to answer that.
While he’s trying to find the words, Scott presses him slowly so his back is pressed against the wall. A leg coming up to rest in the space between Shane’s knees and applying the slightest pressure up, it’s almost enough to have Shane seeing stars. A high pitched whine falling from his lips as looks into Scott’s eyes. Hoping he can convey meaning without words.
Scott’s eyes are more pupil than anything else as he stares down at Shane, a look of realization overcoming his features as he leans in again. “You want me to take care of you?” He’s got a hand on Shane’s jaw again, the tip of his thumb slipping between Shane’s lips.
Shane’s nod is frantic, eyes wide leaning in to capture Scott’s lips in another bruising kiss. He’s so wrapped up in the feeling of lips on lips, of the knee between his legs, that he doesn’t notice when Scott hunches slightly and places both hands on Shane’s thighs. He lifts him swiftly and easily. An excited thrill burning through Shane’s veins at the feeling of strong arms holding him up.
Their kiss doesn’t break as Shane is carried through the apartment, his hands gripping Scott’s shoulder tightly to steady himself.
Their kiss is finally broken by Shane being gently placed on the king bed in Scott’s bedroom. The cold air rushing in to replace the heat of Scott’s body pressed against his own, eyes fluttering open he watches as Scott strips. Fast deliberate movements pulling his clothes away before kneeling on the bed.
His hands move forward and Shane raises his torso off the bed to help Scott remove his shirt and toss it to the floor. Something in him dings uncomfortably at the lack of care and routine, he stamps the feeling down when Scott moves to his pants.
Sure fingers make quick work of his button and zipper, no words are said but the sound of heavy breathing and shuffling fabric fills the room. Finally Shane lifts his hips and lets Scott slide them off past his hips, thumbs hooking in the waste band of his boxers and taking those down too.
Shane doesn’t have time to register the way his clothes are thrown away because now him and Scott are both naked on his bed. Their eyes trailing up and down each other's bodies for a moment as they breathe.
Finally Scott moves, closing the distance and straddling Shane’s hips and capturing his lips back in a heated kiss. Shane can’t help it when his hips buck up at the new weight in his lap searching for friction.
He feels Scott’s smile grow as he pulls back a hair width, “Do you want me to fuck you?” There’s no teasing in his words, no laughter or ego. They’re controlled, and almost shy.
“Please.”
Scott’s kisses return to his skin hungrily, nipping and licking at his throat before working his way down. The heat of his body engulfing Shane, sweat pricking at his hair line.
A whine falls from his lips and his head presses back into the pillow when Scott’s mouth finally makes contact and fully swallows him down to the base. Shane tries to keep his mind away from Ilya, tries not to draw comparisons between the casual confidence, and the eager nerves.
His mind is drifting to Ilya a little when he feels Scott’s hand come up and rub his inner thigh. His hand is warm and soft, fingers slightly tickling the skin as it moves closer with each swipe.
Desire builds in Shane’s stomach as he works slowly, a single finger finally swiping between his cheeks and making him cry out, arching up and pressing himself deeper into Scott’s mouth.
Scott pulls his mouth off and brings his hand back - Shane whines at the loss of contact, he doesn’t open his eyes, but Scott is quick with his movements above him, shuffling, a drawer sliding open, and closed.
Then Scott’s finger is back, slicker than before, pressing in slowly.
“Oh my god.” Relief washes over his body at the feeling, eyes finally opening to look down at Scott who is between his legs. Their eyes meet and Shane’s body burns at the intensity.
It doesn’t take long for Scott to slip in a second finger, latching his mouth onto Shane’s inner thigh as he does.
Shane’s cock jumps at the added sensation, leaking lightly on his abdomen. It aches and begs to be touched, but Shane wants this to last, wants to feel Scott inside him as he cums. So he raises both his hands and grips the headboard behind him to keep them from reaching down subconsciously.
Scott’s eyes track the movement and his face splits into an easy grin, pulling back from his thigh he says, “You are something else, Hollander.”
Shane keens at the praise, cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment as he turns his face into the pillow. He hears a soft chuckle from Scott before the feeling of a third finger being added causes his brain to go fuzzy.
“You like that, huh? God, you are so good. So good for me.” Scott is mumbling to himself as he peppers gentle kisses on Shane’s hip bone and stretches him open.
Shane’s hips bucking wildly, and then Scott hits his prostate and Shane is crying out. His cock leaking heavily, leaving a wet trail on his abs as it moves with his body.
“Think you’re ready for me?” Scott’s moved up now and is whispering with his mouth against Shane’s chest, tongue flicking out across a nipple at the same time he curls his fingers and hits Shane’s prostate again.
“Yes!” Shane’s voice is high pitched and whiney, back arched off the bed as he tries to get more.
When Scott’s fingers pull out Shane whines at the loss, he has half a mind to feel embarrassed about it. It doesn’t last long though , because Scott is fast with rolling the condom on and slicking himself up.
Both of them are eager, and so close to the edge when Scott finally pushes in Shane knows neither will last long.
Scott pauses when he’s fully sheathed, his arms coming down to bracket Shane’s face. His face is red and damp with sweat - his eyes burning as they look into Shane’s. “You are so fucking pretty. So good for me.”
Shane’s body moves on instinct at the words, his hands moving to grab Scott’s ass and pull him closer. “Please, fuck me.”
Scott doesn’t waste any more time, he moves swiftly. A hand working its way between the men and wrapping around Shane’s cock - moving in time with his thrusts. Their faces are closer now as they breathe in each other's mouths, whines and moans falling out eagerly.
Shane’s body feels like it's on fire as the pressure builds, it doesn’t take long before he’s crying out and cuming on Scott’s hand and chest between them. Body clenching down around Scott, the other man thrusts once, twice, and lets out a low groan and collapses on Shane.
Both of their chests heaving heavily, Scott staying still for a moment before pulling his softening cock out and rolling to the side. “You okay?” He’s watching Shane closely as he pulls the condom off and throws it in the bedside trash before moving in to pull Shane towards his chest.
Shane hadn’t noticed the wetness in his eyes, or the spacey feeling in his brain. But with his head against Scott’s warm chest he feels himself come back to his body. It’s a few seconds before he speaks, lips pressed against Scott’s peck. “I should probably shower. Head out.”
He can feel tense underneath him. “Yeah, of course. I get it.”
__
2021
Shane was pretty sure he was hurting Ilya with how tightly he was holding his Husband’s hand but he couldn’t help it.
Ilya had decided after their first game together as a couple with the Ottawa Centaurs they should be out celebrating. It just so happened that their first game and win was against the New York Admirals.
The team had spent less time debating where to go to celebrate tonight than they had on the rooming list the night before.
So naturally, the gayest team in the league wound up at the Kingfisher, surrounded by New York Admirals.
It had been a close game, and Shane had been so overwhelmed with excitement at the win he didn’t care where he went.
But now, with his husband beside him, and Scott Hunter and his husband sitting across the table, Troy Barrett and Harris Drover shoved in the booth with them, all he wanted was to go home.
He had no problem hanging out with his team, he had learned they were good guys. And he had no problem with Scott or Kip.
What he did have a problem with, was a very drunk Troy Barrett announcing to the table casually that he had once considered asking for Shane’s number. It was a drunken confession, nothing more than a joke, but the table went silent and Ilya went still beside him.
Shane’s cheeks flushed red as he forced a laugh out, tugging on Ilya’s hand a little trying to get him to leave it be. “That’s flattering, thank you.”
It’s like his words break the silence that had fallen over the table and suddenly Scott has a hand to his mouth and is laughing so hard. The flush on his cheeks and empty drink glass in front of him makes an anxiety that Shane had almost forgotten stir deep inside.
Kip’s eyes sparkle with humour as he takes in his laughing husband, even Harris and Ilya have turned their attention towards the older man. Shane’s face is hot he thinks it might melt off.
Surely he won’t say anything. Surely not.
“What is so funny?” Ilya’s voice is deep and commanding, the way it gets when he thinks he’s being left out of a joke. There is a slight edge to it, that suggests the joke better not be about Shane.
Shane ignores the butterflies in his stomach at that thought and turns to look at Scott, trying to catch his eye and convey his message telepathically to Shut the fuck up.
Finally Scott stops laughing and wipes the tears that had gathered in the corner of his eye away with his thumb. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. I’m sorry.” He’s directing it now at Shane, and Shane feels like he wants to crawl in a hole.
“You think is funny someone wants my Husband’s phone number? You do not think my husband is hot?”
Shane grimaces at the tone, he can understand how Ilya had come to that conclusion. Not knowing the truth.
Scott’s eyes widen a fraction flicking over to meet Shane’s a sly smile spreading on his lips before he looks over to Kip. Shane flushes when he realizes Kip doesn’t look confused. Like Kip knew.
Oh god.
Kip knew.
And now - “No, no. I never said that.” Scott’s holding up his hands in a placating gesture, but his eyes are twinkling in a way that reminds Shane of years ago, and he has a smile pulling at his lips.
“Maybe we should all call it a night, hm.” Kip butts in, placing a hand on Scott’s chest, eyes flicking around all the men, lingering on Shane before landing on Ilya’s.
But Ilya didn’t clock every single gay player in the league by being unobservant. His eyes are still trained on Scott, Shane can see the mental calculations he’s doing trying to puzzle what little information he has together.
“You also consider asking for Shane’s number? Is that what it is? You laugh because you relate?” Ilya’s getting closer to the truth and Shane’s knee is bouncing under the table.
Ilya’s eyes flick over to him, something flashing in his eyes. “No.” He whispers, “You didn’t. The dinosaur?” He sounds scandalized as he turns his gaze back to Scott.
“Wait, what, what happened?” And Shane thinks in that moment he could be capable of murder because Troy needed to be strangled for commenting again. He shoots a hard gaze to Troy hoping to shut him up, but nothing seems to be going his way tonight.
“It was one time like seven years ago or something.” Scott mutters, clearly smug about having something on Ilya that he can use to bother him.
“No, no fucking way - you and Hollzy?” Troy is hollering, his voice bright and cheery as the situation clicks in. Shane wants to crawl under the table and hide.
Shane is watching Ilya’s eyes, he can see the minute his husband pieces together the timeline. “After Olympics?” His voice is soft when he asks, he’s leaned in. This conversation was between them.
“Yeah.” Shane admits softly.
Ilya watches him with tender eyes for a moment before squeezing his hand under the table and leaning back. He squares his shoulders, puts on a big smile and looks at Scott, “You know, Shane told me once he had a hook up. Did not mention it was you.” Ilya pauses, the smile growing. “You know what he did mention though? That was not good enough, was not me.”
Shane let’s his head thump against the table as the laughter around him grows. Despite the embarrassment he can’t help the smile on his face or the warmth in his chest.
As absurd as everything was, the fact that he was here. Joking about a past hookup with another man in public and nobody was shaming him, well - not until he got into bed with Ilya he was sure. But that was different.
He felt Ilya’s hand come up to rest between his shoulder blades and rub gently, and it felt like for a moment, every weight he’d carried had evaporated.