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Ilya heard the door shut behind Hollander. He didn’t move, couldn’t move. His sweat-slicked skin was starting cool; he should get up and shower, wash away whatever lingering traces of Shane remained. Let the hot water wash away everything he was feeling.
Before he could move, his phone dinged.
We didn’t even kiss.
Fuck.
He should ignore it. Put his phone down, shower, go to sleep, and forget about Shane until next season.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t let him leave like this. His heart was physically aching as his eyes traced over those words again and again. He could picture Shane’s glossy eyes, filled with tears that wouldn’t spill over. The hurt in them, like a knife to his own heart.
Come back up. You forgot something.
He hit send and waited.
Two minutes later there was a knock on the door.
He opened it. Shane slipped in, head down, avoiding eye contact.
“What did I forget?” he asked. His voice sounded too much like it had in the bathroom earlier, after they presented the award. Like he was this close to breaking down. Ilya’s own eyes burned.
“This,” Ilya said, and he backed Shane up against the wall and kissed him. He kissed him with everything he was feeling. Hurt, rage, joy, safety. How could one person make him feel so much? No, the hurt and rage weren’t from Shane. Those were from his family, the weight of the expectations they put on him, that he would be stepping fully back into as soon his feet touched the ground in Moscow. The unfairness of everything. The fact that he couldn’t tell Shane any of that. He couldn’t tell him how the only time he felt light and free and safe was when he was in Shane’s arms. So he showed him instead. He kissed him like he was the last breath of air left on earth.
Shane whimpered, starting to go limp in his arms. He backed them up until they were in front of the couch. He pushed Shane down onto it and kept kissing him. He kissed his forehead, the corner of each eye, the tip of his nose. He trailed more kisses down his face, to the side of his neck. He lingered there, sucking and tonguing gently, enough to make him feel it but not enough to leave a mark. He unbuttoned Shane’s white dress shirt and yanked it out of his pants and trailed kisses down his chest, then his stomach, lingering everywhere.
Shane’s moans were getting louder and more needy the further down he went. When he got to the top of his pants, he unbuttoned them and yanked them down just far enough for Shane’s cock to spring free. Instead of taking him into his mouth, he continued kissing him. He kissed the head of Shane’s cock as if it was his mouth, tongue gently sweeping up and around the head, tasting the salty precum that was already leaking steadily. Then he trailed kisses down the length of him, slowly, with his tongue doing most of the work.
“Oh god, Rozanov, please,” Shane said, voice strained with pleasure.
Ilya ignore him and continued kissing him, moving away from his cock and pressing open-mouthed kisses into the sensitive skin on either side of it. He crawled back up and kissed Shane deeply on the mouth again, catching his bottom lip with his teeth and pulling a little harder than he meant to. Shane’s whimpers were going to make him come undone. He ducked his head lower and fixed his mouth on one of Shane’s nipples, gentle at first but then sinking his teeth in, not too hard, but hard enough to elicit a deep groan from Shane.
Ilya’s own cock was hard and begging for attention, but he ignored it. This wasn’t for him. The only thing he wanted in that moment was to make Shane feel good, worshipped. He wanted to give him everything. Hearing him moan and pant and say his name with such reverence was as close to nirvana as Ilya could get. It was the only time he could ignore the weight of the world he carried on his shoulders and pretend that he could just have this.
“Please,” Shane moaned. Ilya moved back down to Shane’s cock and took it fully in his mouth this time. He found the rhythm he knew Shane liked and brought him right to the edge before pulling off again and trailing kisses up to his stomach. He knew he was dragging this out, but he wanted to wring a few more moans of pleasure from Shane before he let this moment end. He knew these little moments of bliss would be what carried him through the next few months while he was stuck in Russia, being crushed under the reality of his family and their demands.
“Fuck fuck fuck, Rozanov,” Shane said as Ilya’s mouth enveloped his cock again.
Ilya decided to finally give Shane was he wanted and found the perfect rhythm once again. This time, when Shane started stammering and moaning and thrusting his hips, Ilya didn’t stop. Shane cried out and Ilya swallowed down every bit of cum that spurted out of him. When Shane was done, Ilya pulled off and gave the head of his cock one last kiss, swiping his tongue along the slit and making Shane groan. He buttoned Shane’s pants back up and then crawled up and kissed him, tongue sliding into his mouth. Shane leaned into it, and Ilya kept kissing him while he clumsily buttoned Shane’s shirt. When he was done, he pulled away and looked at Shane, surprised to see he was giving Ilya full eye contact.
“That’s what you forgot,” Ilya said, standing up from the couch and holding a hand out for Shane. He pulled him up, standing face to face with him.
“See you next season,” Ilya murmured, and then he turned and went back to the bedroom. He knew if he stayed there, if he kept looking at Shane, whose face had gone soft and sweet, adoration in his eyes that could bring Ilya to his knees, he’d do something regrettable.
He knew if he watched Shane walk through that door, he’d call him back and say things he could never unsay. Things that would upend his life in one way or another, depending on Shane’s response. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t go on with him, and he couldn’t live without him. So instead, he went back to the bedroom, dropped his towel and turned the shower on, just as he heard the hotel door shut once again.