Chapter Text
Two weeks, Shane thought to himself when he was waiting for Ilya at the airport. He still could hardly believe it. It didn't really sink in until he saw Ilya making his way over to his Jeep with a rolling suitcase. Anxiety was coiled around his chest, cold and tight.
Holy shit, he's here. He came. This is real. I'm taking him to my cottage.
Shane might have driven himself into a spiral just thinking about how final and intimate this was, but then Ilya opened the door and said, “What the fuck are you driving, Hollander?”
Shane cracked a smile. “Never seen a Jeep before?”
“You are rich, yes? Rich enough to buy a real car.”
“Okay, your highness, next time I'll lease a Lamborghini just for you.” Shane shook his head and turned the car on. “It's a solid car. Reliable. You can take lots of stuff if you're going camping or something.”
“Why would you go camping when you already have a cottage in the woods?”
“Shut up,” Shane said. “You like it. I can tell. Look, you have so much room to spread out.”
Ilya leaned back in his seat and spread his legs comfortably, giving Shane a cocky smirk as he saw Shane's eyes drop to his thighs. The smirk was genuine enough but Shane thought he saw a hint of tension in it, too. Somehow that made him feel better. Ilya was nervous too. This wasn't a casual trip for him.
The road north was familiar enough that he didn't really need the GPS anymore, but he left it on anyway, the soft mechanical voice a buffer against the silence. The city thinned and faded into patchwork farmland, like something exhaled and done with, and then turned into increasing thick wilderness.
“It's about an hour and a half to the cottage now,” Shane said as they passed a road sign. “It's really private. Nobody around for miles.”
“Maybe it would be less than an hour if you didn't drive like an old man.”
“I'm going the speed limit,” Shane protested.
“Yes, exactly. Is what I said. Old man.”
“Anyway,” Shane went on, pushing down on the gas just enough to nudge the speedometer up, “I think you'll like it. I hope you'll like it. I got lots of groceries, so we don't have to leave. We can just...relax.”
“Is that what you wanted to do? Relax?”
Well, maybe not entirely, Shane thought to himself. “Yes, I do. It'll be...nice, to relax. For once.”
He expected another quip, but Ilya fell silent.
Shane wondered what he was thinking. If he wanted the same thing Shane did.
No hiding. No secrets. No shame. No prying eyes.
Not captains, not rivals. Not Hollander and Rozanov. Just...them.
“Thank you,” Ilya said, so softly that Shane almost missed it over the GPS. “For inviting me.”
“I'm just glad you agreed to come.”
Ilya nodded. “You bring your friends here a lot?”
Shane laughed. “Um. No, actually. My parents are there a lot, but other than them...and the documentary crew that one time...I haven't had anyone else there at all. Not even Hayden, and he's like my best friend.”
Ilya looked at him. “You are serious?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“Oh.”
Shane couldn't decipher that tone. Ilya's sunglasses hid his eyes. He took a slow, shaky breath as the anxiety came back – but then Ilya grabbed his hand and pulled it over to rest on his leg. He squeezed once, reassuring, letting Shane know that he felt exactly the same way as Shane.
Terrified, but excited, too.
**
It took maybe two minutes after arriving at the cottage for Shane to be in Ilya's arms, kissing him like it had been years instead of months since the last time they'd been together. The taste of Ilya's mouth washed away whatever nerves there had been. He had one hand in Ilya's hair – where had his hat gone? - and one hand fisted at the front of his shirt, and Ilya was cupping his waist with his big hands, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt.
It was all a blur to him later, when he tried to remember. Shane couldn't quite remember what happened next but somehow they ended up on the couch, Shane on top, and in the midst of the usual heat of their physical encounters there was something...more. Something tender. He'd asked for honesty and Ilya agreed. And then somehow Shane was between Ilya's spread thighs, Ilya's shorts unbuttoned and his cock sticking out through the slit in his boxers, the dense velvet texture of him so good on Shane's tongue.
“You are so eager, Shane,” Ilya said, his voice thick and husky. He stroked Shane's hair almost reverently as Shane worked on swallowing as much of his cock as he possibly could. “Fuck, that feels too good. I missed your mouth. Missed you.”
I missed you too, Shane wanted to say, but his mouth was full and he didn't want to stop. Instead, he tried to look up at Ilya, partly because Ilya always wanted him to do that and partly because he wanted to see the softness on Ilya's face. And maybe Shane's eyes said what his mouth couldn't because Ilya clasped Shane's free hand and held it over his chest, over his heart.
Ilya's hips rolled to match Shane's rhythm, helping Shane bob up and down. Shane moaned around Ilya's cock in response. It made it easier to lose himself in it, focusing on just the wet slide of Ilya's cock fucking in and out of his mouth, the sweet musk taste on the back of his tongue, the tingle of Ilya's fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp. God, he loved this, loved making those noises spill out of Ilya's mouth, loved the little encouraging touches telling him that he was doing a good job.
Shane could have happily gone on until his lips were numb, but Ilya hadn't been lying when he said he wouldn't take long. Within three minutes, Ilya's hand in his hair tightened and his cock swelled even further, a warning that made Shane focus on what he was saying.
“Fuck, here it comes, Shane, fuck...” Ilya choked out, and then he was coming in thick hot spurts over the back of Shane's tongue and down his throat.
There had been a time when Shane pulled off before Ilya finished, and the first time he didn't, he'd spit primly in a Kleenex. Now he swallowed and savoured every drop, sucking greedily the whole time until Ilya physically tugged him off and said, “Oh fuck, get up here right now Hollander.”
Ilya didn't wait for Shane to obey. He just hauled Shane upright so he could plunge one hand down the front of Shane's pants and underwear. The heat of his palm left Shane gasping, unable to do much other than moan and shake as Ilya stroked him. He helped Ilya work his pants and boxers down around his hips to give him more room.
“You are so wet for me, Shane,” Ilya said huskily, working Shane's cock up and down with obscene slick noises. “You feel how much you are leaking?”
Even if he didn't, he could certainly hear it. Shane might have been embarrassed if he wasn't about to literally explode.
“Slow,” he bit out. “God, Ilya, I can't – slow down or I'm gonna – ”
“Fuck slow,” Ilya growled, jerking him faster. “I will go slow with you later, when I have time to fuck you properly. I want to hear you beg for my big cock. Fuck you so hard you will feel it all night. You want that too, yes? And you will last longer if I make you cum right now.”
Shane whimpered, a ridiculous puppyish sound, and oh fuck that was it for him. His upper body collapsed forward, head shoved in the crook of Ilya's neck, and he keened as he came into Ilya's fist.
“Holy shit,” Shane gasped. He felt Ilya shaking with laughter. “Shut up, I told you it's been a while.”
“Yes, but what was that, three seconds?”
“Fuck off,” Shane said, muffled against Ilya's chest.
“No,” Ilya said comfortably. He wrapped his arms around Shane's shoulders. “I cannot fuck off. I have been trapped in the Canadian wilderness with you. You are stuck with me now for two weeks.”
“Lucky me,” Shane grumbled, but he was smiling and Ilya knew it.
“Yes. The luckiest. Now come up here, I need kiss. I like when you taste like me.”
“That's gross,” Shane said, but he did it anyway. “I can't believe you're really here.”
“I can't believe you call this a cottage,” Ilya returned. “This is mansion. Estate. In Russia, we have dacha, I thought cottage was English word for it. But dacha are small. Little shacks. For relaxation.”
“Usually cottages are smaller,” Shane said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But in Canada, any remote house can be called a cottage.”
“I guess when you are millionaire star captain with a real estate fetish, this is small house. For most people it is a palace.”
“Palace might be generous. It is really nice, though. I wanted a second home. Not just a little getaway place.” Shane paused. “And I do not have a real estate fetish.”
“This does feel very much like home. More so than the apartment in the city.”
“You want the real tour now?”
“Yes, tell me all about tap water and wells again,” Ilya groaned dramatically.
“Oh fuck you, having my own well is cool.”
“Nothing about you is cool. You drive suburban dad car.”
“If you saw the roads up here in winter you'd want to drive it too.”
“Never say that to me again, Hollander. I cannot take it.” Ilya clutched his chest.
“You're such a baby.” Shane shook his head. “You want me to show you around or not?”
“Yes, please, Mr. Bellboy. Show me to my room.”
“Your room, huh? Well, there are five bedrooms total...”
“I will need a king sized bed.”
“They all have a king sized bed.”
“And a view. Big windows.”
“They all have a view.”
“Very good, very good. Ah, one more thing, I almost forgot. I need an en-suite bathroom.”
Shane smiled. “Well, that's a problem.”
“What is problem?”
“There's only one room with an en-suite, and it's mine.” Shane led Ilya to the master bedroom, the biggest and brightest room in the house, with north and west facing windows to capture the best of the beauty outside – chiefly, the lake, and the sunset, and sometimes on lucky nights, the northern lights. Despite the general grandeur of the cottage as a whole, the décor in his bedroom was simple. Comforting. Less 'I hired a designer' and more like 'peak Canadian comfort.' Wooden paneling and plaid. Pictures of his family.
“I am disappointed,” Ilya said, not before Shane had caught him giving the large floor-to-ceiling windows a look of approval. “I pay big money for fancy hotel, I should get what I asked for.”
“I'm sorry, sir, we'd really like to accommodate you, but – ah!” Shane yelped as Ilya tackled him onto the bed. “Sir, no, I'm just a bellboy, you can't treat the staff this way!”
“Oh, I think I know how the staff likes to be treated,” Ilya said in a mocking sing-song tone. He threw his leg over Shane's middle and leaned his weight down to hold him still. Shane tried to push his hips up to knock him off, but quickly found out that Ilya's weight and leverage made that impossible. Shane pushed ineffectively at Ilya's broad shoulders.
“Stop, stop,” he laughed. “Ilya!”
“Mmm, you are so cute when you struggle.”
Ilya grabbed Shane's flailing wrists and pinned them down on either side of his head. He was smiling, boyish and adorable and free in a way Shane so rarely got to see – and that made Shane smile too, of course, and yet...
Wow, he really couldn't move at all. Couldn't budge Ilya an inch if he tried.
Still, he kind of wanted to try. The realization hit Shane like a fucking truck.
He didn't want to struggle because he wanted Ilya to stop, but because he wanted this to keep going. Maybe less playfully. Maybe – even rougher. Just like this – held down – helpless – Ilya mocking him for his attempts to push him away.
Shane felt his face flood with heat. And even though Ilya had literally just jerked him off about twenty minutes ago, his cock was rock hard again, almost painfully so.
He tried to move his hands, testing Ilya's grip on his wrists, feeling like he was doing something he was definitely not supposed to do. Ilya grinned down at him and just pressed them down harder.
“You cannot get away,” Ilya told him. “I have you right where I want you, Mr. Bellboy. And I will keep you here until I get what I want.”
His tone was playful, but Shane had to swallow a whimper. Holy shit, why was that so hot? This was supposed to be cute. Playful. Ilya wasn't going to make him do anything. He never had and never would.
What if you asked him to? an insidious little voice whispered.
Shane forced that thought down with horrified embarrassment.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Ilya's smile faded a bit. “Is okay?” he asked with his brow furrowed.
“No, you're good,” Shane mumbled.
“I hurt your wrists?”
“No.”
You asked for honesty, a little voice reminded him, and Shane winced.
Ilya looked worried. “Are you sure you are okay, Shane? I didn't mean to – ”
“Yeah, I'm sure. Sorry, just – overthinking. You know me. Just – kiss me again? Please?”
Ilya let go of his wrists anyway and bent to give him what he'd asked for. Shane, feeling oddly boneless and limp, kept his hands where they were placed and let it happen.
“Sorry,” Ilya said against his mouth, and Shane didn't know what he was apologizing for. I'm the one who should be sorry.
When he felt Ilya's cock stiffening against him, Shane moved his hips to find the right angle to rub it against his own straining erection. That earned him a chuckle at least, and whatever tension had been between them dissipated.
“Again, already?” Ilya murmured.
“Shut up.”
“I am not complaining. Just teasing you.” Ilya rose up to his knees and took off his shirt. “You are so fun to tease, Hollander.”
“Fuck,” Shane panted, taking in the sight of Ilya half-naked, all lit up from behind with the golden sunshine streaming through the window. He was so beautiful. It was almost unfair.
“You like view, Mr. Bellboy?” Ilya smirked and squeezed the outline of Shane's cock through his pants.
“You know I do.”
“Show me. Take off your clothes.”
“Wait,” Shane said hurriedly. He rolled over and found the remote for the automatic blinds. Ilya looked at it with a frown, confused. At the faint electronic whirring sound of the shades, he looked up and realized what was happening.
“Mm, no. Not good.” Ilya snatched the remote and hit the other arrow button. “I want all of nature to see. What is point of having windows like this if we do not enjoy them?”
“Most people just enjoy the view,” Shane said dryly.
“Most people are very boring.”
“Are they?” Shane pulled a face. “I thought I was special.”
Ilya laughed. “You are. Not many people are second-best hockey player in all of MLH.”
“Second? I invite you to my cottage and that's the kind of thanks I get?”
“Nope,” Ilya said, popping the p. “That was the truth. I will show you how I say thank you. Much more fun.”
Ilya slipped his shorts and underwear down his thighs and flung them somewhere on the floor. Shane opened his mouth to say something about Ilya being hard too, how that made his teasing kind of fall flat, but then Ilya was back on top of him, kissing him while he unbuttoned Shane's shirt. As soon as he felt his bare skin against Ilya's, everything else just sort of slipped away.
“Up,” Ilya demanded, tapping Shane's hip, and Shane pushed his ass up off the bed to let Ilya take his pants off. “Good boy.”
Shane's cock jumped visibly, and Ilya laughed.
“You like being a good boy for me,” he said delightedly.
“Fuck off,” Shane managed, throwing an arm over his blushing face. “Just – do something already, or else I'm going to explode.”
“Making you explode is the point, no?” Ilya licked his palm and wrapped his big hand around Shane's cock. “And since when does the bellboy tell the guests what to do? If I am a very rich guest, I should be requesting VIP service.” Ilya reached up with his free hand and brushed Shane's mouth with his thumb. Shane let his thumb catch, let him part his lips and slip a finger inside.
Oh God. Shane's eyes almost rolled back in his head as Ilya stroked his cock to the same rhythm as his finger moved in and out of his mouth. He could only imagine what he looked like right now. Probably desperate. Probably ridiculous.
“You want to suck my cock again?” Ilya asked, pushing a second finger into Shane's mouth.
Shane made an embarrassing muffled noise and nodded.
“Good boy,” Ilya said. He slipped his fingers free. “Sit up and move over.”
Ilya flopped down in the center of the bed, just where Shane had been. Without being told, Shane pushed himself down the bed to get between Ilya's thick thighs.
“No, not like that,” Ilya said, stopping Shane with a hand on his head.
Shane frowned. “But you said...”
“Other way. Turn around.” When Shane still looked confused, Ilya said, “Straddle me, facing my feet.”
“Jesus, really?”
“Yes, really. I want to try something.”
Shane turned to face the windows and swung a leg over Ilya's waist, his face burning. In order to line his face up with Ilya's cock, he had to shimmy back until his ass was practically right in Ilya's face.
“Now this is a view,” Ilya purred, putting his hands on Shane's ass and squeezing. “You are comfortable like this?”
“I think so.” Shane craned his neck to look behind him. “What about you? I'm not about to smother you or anything, am I?”
Ilya's body shook with laughter. “There are many worse ways to die than this.”
“You're crazy.”
“I know. But you like it.” The tip of Ilya's finger traced a circle over Shane's sensitive hole. Shane's legs shook and he dropped his head forward, a moan slipping out before he could hold back.
“You are so sensitive here,” Ilya murmured, pressing a kiss to one of Shane's cheeks. “It is giving me ideas.”
“What kind of ideas?” Shane's chest tightened as Ilya kneaded his ass firmly, spreading him wider.
“Mmm...something new.”
“Ilya?” Shane's voice pitched up into a squeak as Ilya pulled his ass further back against his face. “Oh fuck, Ilya!”
Ilya's hot wet tongue pressed against Shane's hole, and the sensation was so shockingly pleasurable and intimate that it blotted out any embarrassment Shane might have otherwise felt. He grabbed Ilya's thighs like that would ground him and made a garbled sound.
“This is okay?” Ilya's words were soft, warm puffs of air on Shane's spit-slick hole.
“Yes! Fuck, don't stop, that's so good – Ilya!”
Where had Ilya learned how to do this? Shane's head whirled. Ilya was flexing his tongue into a point to draw circles around his opening, then lapping across it, moaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Shane's cock began to drip onto Ilya's chest. He rutted forward, trying to get some friction on it, even if it was just humping Ilya's chest, but it didn't work. Ilya was holding his ass in an iron grip. Shane couldn't do anything, except...
The tip of Ilya's cock was right there, standing straight up with the tip flushed red, the slit beading with pre-cum. Shane couldn't resist. He licked the slickness away, groaned at the taste, and sank his mouth down without a second thought.
I didn't know this angle would make it so much easier, Shane thought, surprised. The upward curve of Ilya's shaft followed the natural shape of Shane's throat.
“Fuuuck, Hollander,” Ilya groaned as Shane swallowed him down further than he ever had. He took a break from eating Shane's ass and cursed in Russian. “You have been practicing on your toy, I think.”
Shane hadn't, but the image was so filthy that he blushed like he was guilty anyway. Thankfully Ilya couldn't see it. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, trying to convey how desperate he was, how Ilya needed to get his mouth back on him right fucking now.
“God,” Ilya groaned, his fingers digging into the meat of Shane's ass. “I wish I could see you, see my cock bulging in your pretty throat.”
And he dove back in for more, tongue pushing insistently at the tight ring of muscle until – jesus fucking Christ – it slipped inside him.
Oh my god. Ilya was fucking Shane's ass with his tongue. And if he didn't stop, Shane was going to cum. Ilya was going to make Shane cum handsfree, with nothing but his tongue on his ass and his cock down Shane's throat, and if that wasn't insane Shane didn't know what was.
He felt his orgasm building, felt his core tightening, his cock swelling and leaking. Shane threw himself into the task at hand, trying to hold off, to make Ilya cum first, but it didn't work. Ilya moaned, the sound vibrating through his tongue, and Shane was done for.
“Mmmf!” was all Shane managed to get out as he tipped over the edge, his eyes squeezed shut, tears prickling, Ilya's cock filling his throat. His back bowed and his cock jerked wildly, painting Ilya's chest with more cum than Shane would have thought possible.
Ilya gave one last lingering kiss to Shane's fluttering hole and said, sounding hoarse, “You liked it that much, Shane?”
“Mmm...mmhmm...” Shane whimpered around Ilya's cock. He wasn't really sucking anymore, just keeping it in his mouth, because that was all he could do as he twitched through the aftershocks.
“I liked it too. You taste so good.” Ilya began to thrust his hips gently, fucking up into Shane's mouth. “Next time I think I would like to hear you better. Make you loud for me.”
Next time. God, they had two weeks. Two entire weeks of this magic. Shane moaned and threw himself back into his task, using his hand to cup Ilya's balls as he bobbed his head up and down.
“Ah, fuck yes, Shane – I am going to – fuck, Shane...” Ilya's hips stuttered and he tapped Shane's thigh like Morse code. Shane understood and braced himself, ready for Ilya to cum down his throat, which he did with a grunt.
Shane swallowed every drop without missing a beat, milking every last drop and licking the head clean for good measure when he was done.
“Fuck,” Ilya gasped. “That was amazing. Come here.”
Shane scrambled around and looked at Ilya for the first time in what seemed like forever. Ilya looked absolutely wrecked. His pretty curls had turned into a mess of frizz, his face was red, and his mouth and chin were wet with saliva. His chest gleamed with stripes of Shane's cum.
He was beautiful.
Shane wanted to tell him so, but the words just wouldn't come. His brain felt like scrambled eggs. It wasn't until Ilya tried to roll to the side that Shane found his voice.
“No, no,” he practically squawked. “Let me get a towel and clean you up. Don't get it on the duvet!”
Ilya stared at him, looked down at himself, and burst into a peal of laughter.
“Hollander, is your own mess.”
“It's dirty!”
“You have laundry machine, no?”
“Yes, but – the duvet is hard to – okay, just shut up and don't move! I'll clean up.”
Ilya plopped back onto the pillows. “Okay,” he said cheerfully. “Mr. Room Service. Mr. Maid.”
Shane found a washcloth and a towel, wetting the former in the sink. He used the washcloth to mop up his own mess, then dried Ilya with the towel. Then he went and washed his own hands and face before finally climbing back into the bed.
“How do you feel?” Shane asked Ilya, whose eyes were closed.
"I feel like I have died and gone to heaven,” Ilya groaned. Shane laughed and curled up at his side, and a shaft of sunlight that he was previously blocking landed across Ilya's face. “I see the light!” Ilya cried dramatically, throwing his arm across his eyes.
“You're so ridiculous,” Shane told him. “I guess if you're dead, that means you don't want dinner?”
One of Ilya's eyes peeked open. “Dinner?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of dinner? Gross health food?”
“No. Burgers. I have a barbecue outside. You can even have cheese on yours.”
“This must be heaven after all,” Ilya declared. “There is real food at Shane Hollander's cottage.”
“I told you I got groceries!”
“Yes, I know you said this. I thought maybe you went to pet store instead to get bird food.”
Shane rolled his eyes and kissed him, not even caring where Ilya's mouth had been. He suddenly realized how hungry he was. “I'm gonna go start up the barbecue, okay?”
“I'll come with you,” Ilya volunteered. “As soon as my legs start working again.”
“Rest as long as you want to,” Shane told him. He liked the way Ilya looked in his bed. “This is a vacation, so if you want to nap until I come get you for dinner, that's fine.”
Ilya smiled sleepily. “Heaven,” he murmured again. “I like it here.”
“Me too.” Shane kissed his forehead, and then got up to dress. As much as he wanted to cuddle, they would have lots of time for that later.
Two weeks, he reminded himself gleefully. They could do this as often as they wanted to. Whenever and wherever they wanted to.
Heaven, indeed.