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The knock was perfectly timed, because even for this, Hollander was aggressively punctual.
Ilya had sent just one text after the game: 1530. 11pm. Hollander hadn’t answered, but Ilya didn’t need him to. He knew that Hollander would be there. That was the thing about Hollander: no matter how pissed off he was, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didn’t need this, he would still find himself at the door of Ilya’s hotel room at the time Ilya had set, huffy and annoyed, usually, but never even a little bit late.
It was because it this, because he knew what it would do to Hollander, that Ilya took his time answering the door. He smoothed down the cover of the bed, stopped to check his reflection in the entryway mirror, and then finally opened the door to Hollander’s scowling face.
It took everything in Ilya not to grin stupidly at him. He smirked instead.
“Oh! Hollander, I was not expecting you. How nice of you to stop by.”
Hollander shoved past him into the room. “Oh, fuck off, you fucking asshole.”
This was already going better than Ilya had imagined. Hollander was already worked up, his face red and furious, and Ilya couldn’t fucking wait to see how far he could push him, see what Hollander would let him do— because he knew Hollander would let him do anything. When it came down to it, there was nothing Hollander wouldn’t let him do.
Ilya raised his eyebrows at Hollander, who was standing with his arms crossed, still looking pissed.
“Well?” Ilya said, spreading out his arms.
Hollander scoffed. “Well what?” he ground out.
Ilya closed the distance between them quickly enough that Hollander wasn’t ready for it. He gripped Hollander’s chin and heard his sharp intake of breath.
“You should congratulate me. I won, and we agreed that I would get a reward if I won. You agreed to that, yes? Remind me, Hollander. Remind me of my reward. I worry you may be forgetting.”
Hollander swallowed visibly. Ilya’s eyes were drawn to the movement of his throat.
“I—” Hollander took a deep breath. “I said you could—”
His face reddened deeper, but he soldiered on. The words came out in a rush. “Dowhateveryouwanttome.”
Ilya tightened his grip on Hollander’s chin. “What was that?”
Hollander raised his eyes to the ceiling, looking pained in a way Ilya knew had nothing to do with the hard press of Ilya’s fingers.
“We agreed you could do whatever you want to me,” he said more clearly, sounding a little bit despairing.
This time Ilya gave in to his grin. He let go of Hollander’s chin and patted the side of his face. “Da, Hollander. Exactly that. You agreed, and I won, because I am world’s greatest hockey player—” (At this Hollander gave a rude snort that Ilya ignored) “—and now, I get my reward. So. Congratulate me.”
Hollander gritted his teeth. “Congratulations,” he muttered.
Ilya pouted. “I do not think you mean it. But is okay. You will make it up to me, I think.”
He considered Hollander for a moment, standing there with his hands balled up in fists, tension showing in every inch of that beautiful, powerful body. He nodded to himself.
“Okay. Now take off your clothes and get on your knees.”
He watched as Hollander fought with his dignity for a moment before huffing out an annoyed breath and complying. Ilya felt a little thrill run through him as Hollander carefully pulled off his shirt and pants and folded them carefully, placing them on the chair in the corner of the room. He hesitated for a moment before sliding off his boxers and adding them to the folded stack of clothes.
“Socks, too,” Ilya reminded him, and Hollander made a sound of annoyance before peeling off his socks one by one. Ilya bit down on a smile as Hollander also carefully folded and placed each sock.
Hollander, fully naked now, hovered over his clothes, hesitating again.
“Kneel. There,” Ilya said, pointing to the carpet next to the bed.
Hollander took a deep breath and carefully stepped to where Ilya had pointed, his eyes flicking up every few moments to check Ilya’s reaction. Ilya kept his face carefully blank, watching as Hollander slowly lowered himself onto his knees and looked up at Ilya expectantly.
“Good,” Ilya said softly, and he watched as a shiver ran through Hollander’s naked body.
Ilya licked his lips, stepping closer to Hollander so that the other man had to crane his neck to meet Ilya’s eyes, exposing the long line of his throat. Ilya just watched him for a moment, letting his eyes drag down the firm lines of his chest, the bruises on his side from a recent hit against the boards, the clenched muscles of his thighs, his already half-hard cock.
He began to circle Hollander like a predator circling its prey, tracking the subtle changes in Hollander’s breathing every time he moved.
“I want you to be good for me tonight,” Ilya said, still speaking softly, almost hypnotically, as he continued to circle Hollander. “I think you want that too. You are always trying to growl and bark at me like bad dog, but really you just want to be a good boy for me, don’t you, щенок?”
Hollander’s eyes were dark as Ilya stopped in front of him. Ilya glanced down again at Hollander’s cock, and felt a jolt of triumph to see it already hard and leaking.
Hollander swallowed. “That word— what does that mean?” he asked, and it came out as a whisper.
Ilya grinned like the wolf he was. “Puppy.”
Hollander scowled, his cheeks red, but there was no real threat in it. He really was just like a puppy, or a kitten, trying to scratch and bite with no real claws and no real teeth. Ilya wanted to pinch those cheeks, wanted to pinch other places, wanted to bite him, devour him, swallow him whole. Do whatever you want to me. The thought was suddenly dizzying.
“Hmmm…” Ilya tapped a finger to his lips, feigning consideration. “I know you can be good boy, yes, but you need to prove it.”
He turned away as Hollander, still kneeling, watched him with narrowed eyes. Still feigning nonchalance, Ilya opened the top drawer of the dresser and pulled out a black leather box. It was about the size of a briefcase, with a gold clasp but no handle. Ilya felt a thrum in his veins as he picked it up. The idea of whatever you want to me had taken up residence in his mind long before they’d actually made the bet, and Ilya had planned for this. He had a long, long list of things he wanted to do to Shane Hollander, and he was delighted at just how many of those things could be kept in an unassuming little box.
He placed the box on the dresser, pleased to see that Hollander looked a little bit apprehensive. He flicked the clasp and opened the box, angled so that Hollander couldn’t see what he was doing, and surveyed its contents. So many possibilities, but first…. he picked up his choice and held it behind his back before closing the lid and turning to Hollander with a smirk.
Hollander’s eyes were nervously skating between the box and Ilya’s concealed hands. “Rozanov…”
“Shhh. Remember what you promised me, щенок. You promised me anything I want, and I want you to be good for me. Can you do that?”
Hollander swallowed. “Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“Good,” Ilya said, satisfied, and brought his hands out from behind his back.
Hollander’s eyes widened when he saw what Ilya was holding, which was not even as bad a reaction as Ilya was expecting, because it was a collar. It was a very nice collar, all things considered, made of a dark brown leather, soft and supple, with a sturdy brass buckle and a brass loop. Clipped to the loop was a matching leather leash, which Ilya twisted around his hand experimentally. Hollander was staring at it with an expression halfway between horror and something Ilya could only describe as hunger.
“Rozanov—” he choked out, but Ilya interrupted him.
“What? You said you would be good boy for me, good puppy, щенок, and even very good puppies need a leash. You try to tell yourself you will not like it, but really I think you will like it very much. You would like it, wouldn’t you? My collar on your neck—”
At this Ilya touched the side of Hollander’s neck gently with his free hand, and Hollander shivered.
“— showing everyone who you belong to. My leash so I can pull you wherever I want you, onto the bed, onto my cock…”
Hollander was definitely breathing hard now. “Fuck. Fine, fine. Jesus fucking Christ, Rozanov.”
Ilya tried not to look too smug as he gently placed the collar around Hollander’s neck, purposely letting his fingers brush against the sensitive skin to draw another shiver from Hollander as he closed the brass buckle. He took a step back, letting the leash run through his hands for a moment before tightening his hold on it and tugging lightly. Hollander gave a little gasp, digging his fingers into his thighs to keep from losing his balance. Ilya pulled the leash upwards, just tight enough that Hollander was forced to look up at Ilya, and looking at him like that, open and pleading and all wrapped around Ilya’s finger, Ilya felt the breath knock out of him.
“Fuck, Hollander,” he bit out, and he used the leash to pull him up into a messy kiss.
It was a bad angle, Hollander still on his knees, stretching up for Ilya, as Ilya bent over him, one hand white-knuckling the leash while his other hand fisted in Hollander’s hair. Their mouths crashed together, more teeth than lips, Hollander making desperate noises and groaning when Ilya bit down on his bottom lip. Hollander may have been the one with the collar, but they were both hungry animals. When Hollander reached for Ilya, fumbling for the buckle of Ilya’s belt, Ilya stepped back and gave the leash a hard yank.
“No. No touching,” he commanded, and Hollander whined.
Ilya was incredibly hard, now, but he saw that Hollander was so hard it looked painful, precome weeping from the tip of his cock.
“Please, Rozanov,” he begged, gasping for breath and clenching his hands against his thighs.
Ilya tightened his hold on the leash. “Please, what?”
Hollander licked his lips and his eyes zeroed in on the bulge in Ilya’s pants.
Fucking hell. It was taking everything in Ilya to keep his composure when Hollander was doing better than he had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. He bent lower, sliding the fingers of his free hand between Hollander’s throat and the collar and pulling, earning another gasp.
“I think maybe you want a treat, but only very good boys get a treat. Have you been enough of a good boy for me?”
Hollander nodded vigorously, pulling Ilya’s hand with the movement of his head.
“I want you to say it.”
Hollander swallowed. “I— I’ve been good. Please.”
Ilya’s lips curved and he straightened, pulling one hand back from the collar and keeping his other hand on the leash.
“Mmm. You beg so pretty. So needy for me, щенок. You have been a very good boy, yes. You can have your treat.”
Hollander’s breathing quickened as Ilya used one hand to unbutton his pants and pull his now-aching cock free of his boxers. Hollander licked his lips, leaning forward reflexively, but Ilya pulled him back with the leash.
“Ah, ah. Not yet. I want you to be still. No touching. I will put my cock in your mouth and fuck you with it, and you will be very good and take it. Yes?”
Hollander nodded, eyes bright and mouth open, as Ilya used the leash to guide him onto Ilya’s cock. Ilya didn’t move for a moment, just drinking in the sight of Hollander, naked except for a leather collar, kneeling at Ilya’s feet with Ilya’s cock in his mouth. A surge of something horrible and possessive rose up in him as he looked at Hollander, his Hollander, his Shane, but that was getting into dangerous territory. He tried to focus on what Hollander’s plush pink lips looked like wrapped around his cock, tried not to focus on the look on Hollander’s face, open and trusting and so, so beautiful. He let out a sigh that turned into a groan as he thrust into Hollander’s mouth. Fuck, Hollander was so good, kneeling so perfectly just as Ilya has told him to, holding himself still and letting Ilya fuck his mouth, letting Ilya take whatever he wanted, letting Ilya take everything.
“Fuck, Hollander,” Ilya groaned, and Hollander moaned around his cock as Ilya went deeper, tears springing to Hollander’s eyes as Ilya hit the back of his throat.
“You are so good for me, yes, my good boy, made to take my cock like this…” Ilya was so close now, and Hollander was making the most gorgeous noises around his cock, but Ilya had a lot of plans for this night and he still wanted to fuck Hollander. With a tremendous effort, he used the leash to pull Hollander off of his still-hard cock, and Hollander made another wonderful whining sound.
They were both gasping for breath, and Ilya used a shaky hand to pet Hollander’s hair.
“You did so well, you were so good for me, my good boy, but you need to be patient. If you keep being good for me like this, you will get an even better treat at the end, I promise.”
Hollander swallowed and nodded, his hands still clenched in an effort to not touch his own still-leaking cock. Ilya stepped back, tucking his cock back into his pants with a wince. Ilya was going to need to be patient too, but if the rest of the night went as well as it had gone so far, it was going to be more than worth it.
Ilya unhooked the leash from Hollander’s collar and set it aside, drawing a confused frown from Hollander. Ilya chuckled.
“Don’t worry, щенок, the collar stays on. We will just be changing up some things, but you will still like it very much, I promise.”
He went back over to the box and pulled something else out and hid it behind his back, holding back a grin as he turned back to Hollander. Hollander was still kneeling, now a little shakily, with his untouched cock still begging for attention.
“For next part I want you to close your eyes,” Ilya said, and Hollander only hesitated for a moment before carefully shutting his eyes. Ilya smiled.
“Now, this is very important. You cannot open eyes until I say. You cannot touch yourself. And you cannot come until I say. You have been very good boy, and I know you can be good for just a little bit longer. No matter what, you are not allowed to touch yourself, and you are not allowed to come. Can you do that? Be good boy for me one more time?”
Hollander swallowed and squeezed shut his already closed eyes. “Shit—Yes. Yes,” he said hoarsely.
“Good,” Ilya said softly, and he walked around to the back of Hollander’s kneeling form.
“Bend over. Elbows and knees.”
“Fuck,” Hollander breathed out, and he bent forward, bending his elbows to take his weight, presenting his perfect ass to Ilya, who didn’t even try to hold back his grin this time, knowing that Hollander couldn’t see him anyway.
Pulse leaping, Ilya laid out the things he had pulled from the leather box: a bottle of lube, a vibrating plug, and a little handheld remote. He uncapped the bottle of lube, noting how Hollander shivered in anticipation at the sound. Ilya coated his fingers and then traced lightly around the rim of Hollander’s hole, teasing, and grinned when Hollander’s body clenched and his cock jumped.
“Rozanov—” Hollander gritted out.
“Shhh. No talking,” Ilya said, and he sank the first finger in.
Hollander gasped, his head falling towards the floor and his hands clenching around nothing, as Ilya carefully opened him up. When he followed with a second finger, Hollander bit off a groan, moving his hands to grasp at his own hair just to have something to hold onto.
Ilya added a third finger, enjoying the way Hollander’s breathing had gone rough and ragged. Just to be an asshole, he sunk his fingers in deeper and crooked them in just the way that he knew Hollander loved, and Hollander cried out, almost collapsing. Ilya pulled out, relishing the way Hollander whined at the sudden emptiness. Ilya stroked Hollander’s thigh as he trembled.
“Shhh. You’re doing so well, любимый,” he said softly, and then froze. Beloved. Where did that come from? He had meant to say— well, fuck. He didn’t know what he had meant to say. He was frozen for a moment too long.
“Rozanov?” Hollander asked uncertainly, eyes still closed obediently.
Ilya let out a careful breath, emptying his mind. “Yes. Almost ready.”
He picked up the vibrating plug and carefully coated it with lube, then lined it up with Hollander’s hole. “Now you can talk. But only because I want to hear you beg,” he said, and he began to slide in the plug.
Hollander’s hips jerked as he gasped, and Ilya held him in place as he pushed the plug past its widest point to nestle it snugly inside Hollander’s hole.
Hollander was breathing heavily, his untouched cock still weeping precome, as Ilya picked up the remote and stepped back, circling back to Hollander’s front side.
“Okay. Now I want you to kneel. Eyes can be open but remember rules. No touching yourself. No coming. But you can beg for it,” he said with a satisfied smile. “And maybe if you are very good you will get what you want. Maybe.”
Hollander began to push himself back up on his knees, shaking, and just as he was kneeling again, Ilya turned on the vibrator.
“Fuck!” Hollander gasped, almost collapsing but stopping himself at the last moment, barely holding himself up on his knees as his entire body trembled. “Jesus fucking Christ, Rozanov, you— fuck!”
Ilya had turned it up to another setting. Hollander’s legs were shaking with the effort of holding himself up, taking gasping breaths with his eyes tightly squeezed shut. Ilya loved watching him like this, loved seeing Hollander push himself just as hard as he pushed himself on the ice, always striving to be the best, never wanting to lose. This too, was a game, and Hollander was not going to lose this one.
Ilya turned the vibrator up even higher, and Hollander gave a choked moan as his whole body spasmed. His cock looked painful, throbbing, leaking obscenely all over his naked thighs.
“Oh fuck, I— I need—” Hollander gasped out, and Ilya stepped closer, circling him again.
“Hmm, what was that?” Ilya asked, feigning ignorance. “I did not hear you. I do not know what you could possibly need right now.”
“Shit— you asshole—” Hollander, still shaking, could barely get the words out, now, and Ilya stopped behind him.
“That was not very nice,” Ilya tsked, “I think you can ask more nicely than that.”
He grabbed the back of the collar, more to steady Hollander than anything, and reached down to find the base of the plug and pushed.
Hollander sobbed, his whole body jerking forward, and he would have surely collapsed if not for Ilya’s grip on the collar around his neck.
“Please,” Hollander begged, sounding close to tears, “Pleasepleaseplease—”
Ilya was achingly hard, too, and he was not going to last much longer watching Hollander beg for him on his knees, but he felt almost high on the sensation of it, needing to drag it out as long as he possibly could.
“Please what?” Ilya said softly, as he pulled on the plug before pushing it deeper again, and Hollander made a high keening sound, his body on the verge of collapse, nails digging into his thighs in an effort to keep from touching himself.
“Fuck— Let me come, fuck me, anything, please, oh god, please,” Hollander sobbed, shaking and squirming, more held up by Ilya’s grip than his own strength at this point.
Ilya let go of the plug and carefully turned down the vibrations to the lowest setting, just enough to keep Hollander on edge. He walked around to face Hollander, sliding his hand around to the front of the collar so that he was still holding him by it.
Hollander looked absolutely wrecked, tears streaming down his pretty face, lips bitten red and swollen, eyes blown wide and tragic. His breath came out in stuttering little gasps as he looked up at Ilya, his whole face pleading. Jesus fuck, Ilya wanted him so bad. It hit him all at once like a crash into the ice, like that awful smack right before it’s all just stars, and suddenly Ilya needed him so much he couldn’t wait another breath.
“Fuck,” Ilya breathed out, and he grabbed Hollander’s chin. “Get on the bed. Hands and knees. Now.”
Hollander scrambled up so fast he was practically tripping over himself as he tried to get his shaking limbs to obey. He climbed onto the bed, clumsy and uncoordinated in his haste, and positioned himself on his hands and knees, still panting and trembling.
Ilya, breathing hard now, frantically tore at his own clothes, cursing in Russian when his hands fumbled on the buttons of his shirt. When he succeeded, he threw his shirt to the ground in a rumpled heap, quickly followed by his pants and his boxers.
He took a steadying breath, captured by the sight of Hollander, on all fours with the plug in his ass exposed, still lightly vibrating as he shook with the effort of holding himself still. Ilya tried to calm the fire racing through his veins as he joined Hollander on the bed, positioning himself behind him but not yet touching him.
Hollander craned his neck to look back at Ilya, eyes beseeching, and Ilya dug his fingers into his hip. Hollander gasped.
“Eyes forward,” Ilya commanded, and Hollander was quick to obey, snapping his head to face the headboard. Ilya lightly traced the curve of Hollander’s ass, drawing closer to the plug but not touching it, and Hollander whimpered.
Ilya felt like he was going to combust. His cock was so hard it ached, and he needed to just sink into Hollander, feel the sweet give of his body, but he held himself back. Instead, he leaned close to Hollander, tracing a finger down his spine.
“If you are very, very good, you will get what you need,” he whispered, and Hollander made another sound, high and needy.
Ilya wanted to fuck Hollander until he forgot his own name, maybe even until Ilya forgot his own name, until they weren’t Hollander and Rozanov anymore, until they had merged into one formless creature, made of nothing but this: heat, need, this terrible all-encompassing feeling between them.
Ilya pressed on the plug one more time, just to hear the noise that Hollander made, before carefully pulling it out and turning it off. Hollander whined at the loss, and Ilya bent down to kiss the base of his spine.
“Is okay, дорогой, you are being so good for me, you have been so good for me all night.”
Distantly Ilya was aware of the word he had said, sweetheart, but the warning buzz in the back of his mind was drowned out by the need taking over his body. He reached to the nightstand to pull out a condom, rolling it on and trying not to hiss as he made contact with the sensitive skin of his aching cock. He put a hand on Hollander’s shoulder blades and pushed lightly, and Hollander went down onto his elbows with no resistance, still trembling in anticipation, his breaths coming out fast.
“Good, so good for me,” Ilya murmured, stroking down the line of Hollander’s back to elicit a shiver. “I am going to fuck you now. But still you cannot come until I tell you. Can you do that for me, дорогой?”
Hollander gave a jerky nod, clearly past the point of being able to speak clearly. Ilya lined himself up behind Hollander’s still-slick hole, feeling a rush of heat go through him as his cock throbbed with anticipation. In one smooth motion he slid in, letting out a gasp of relief at the hot wet slide of it, and Hollander cried out, his hands fisting in the bedsheets.
Ilya pulled out just slightly and then pushed in again, deeper, knowing he had hit the perfect angle when Hollander gasped out a strangled “Oh, fuck!”
Ilya rocked into him, finding a rhythm and speeding up, almost overcome with the perfect friction of it, the way that Hollander writhed underneath him, taking his cock so perfectly.
“Touch yourself,” Ilya commanded, breathlessly.
Hollander gave a broken sound of relief, taking his own throbbing cock in hand and stroking it messily as Ilya continued to drive into him from behind.
“Oh fuck, Rozanov, I’m close—” Hollander gasped, shaking with one hand on his cock and the other hand clenched in the bedsheets.
“Ah— Not yet. Hands off,” Ilya breathed out, and Hollander whined helplessly, letting go of his cock with an effort that seemed to take all of willpower.
Fuck, Hollander was perfect. Ilya could feel his own orgasm building, almost reaching the crest of the wave, as Hollander moaned and scrabbled at the sheets.
“Please, Rozanov, oh god, please,” Hollander begged, sounding close to tears again, and just that almost sent Ilya over the edge, almost.
“Fuck, Hollander, so perfect for me,” Ilya gasped out, still thrusting into Hollander’s perfect hole, so close to bliss. “So good and begging so beautifully for me.”
“Please,” Hollander begged again, sounding broken, desperate, and Ilya couldn’t deny him anything anymore. He wanted to give him everything— in this moment, Shane Hollander could have asked him to do anything and he would have done it.
“Da, yes, come for me, Hollander,” Ilya groaned out, and Hollander sobbed in relief as he sloppily brought his hand back to his cock. The orgasm hit Ilya at the same time that it hit Hollander, and it was like a dam breaking all at once, so intense Ilya felt like his vision must have whited out, little sparks exploding behind his eyes. He fucked Hollander through it, grabbing the back of Hollander’s collar as Hollander cried out and spilled all over the bedsheets, still fucking him while his cock pulsed with aftershocks. Finally Hollander collapsed, boneless and spent, and Ilya let himself collapse on top of him.
For a moment they just laid there, both panting and shaking, Ilya’s softening cock still in Hollander’s ass. Then Ilya pushed himself up unsteadily and pulled out carefully, wincing a bit. Hollander hadn’t moved from where his face was pressed into a pillow, and he made a muffled noise of protest. Ilya grinned as he pulled off the spent condom and tossed it into the waste basket by the bed.
“Oh, you already miss my cock that badly?” he teased, and Hollander turned his face to attempt a glare at Ilya. It was very cute and not at all threatening, and Ilya smiled wider at him. Yes, just like puppy, he thought.
Ilya climbed over Hollander and shoved him a little to get him to move over, and Hollander grumbled wordlessly.
“Stop being so difficult, Hollander. Just move to other side of bed. I know you hate laying in wet spot.”
Hollander grimaced as his brain came a little bit more back online, and he carefully flipped over, scooting himself away from the wet spot on the bed before collapsing again on his back and closing his eyes.
Ilya sat back on his heels and just looked at him for a moment. He was glad that Hollander’s eyes were closed, because Ilya didn’t want to know what expression was on his own face. It was probably something like sickeningly fond, which was a horrible thought. He sighed and reached forward to unbuckle the collar from around Hollander’s neck. Hollander’s eyes shot open and he frowned at Ilya, and Ilya chuckled.
“You will be getting this another time, I promise,” he said smugly as he set it aside, and Hollander scowled as his cheeks went red. “But right now I want your neck,” he said and bared his teeth like a vampire before leaning down to nip at the side of Hollander’s neck.
Hollander laughed and shoved him back. “Oh fuck off, you asshole.”
Ilya straddled him, leaning down so their noses were touching, and swallowed Hollander’s laugh with a kiss. It was slow, sweet, probably too sweet for what this night was supposed to be about, but Ilya had fully lost the plot the moment he had heard seen Hollander drop to his knees. If he was being honest with himself, it was long before that, even— he had been lost the moment Shane Hollander had walked up to him in a rink’s back alley and said Ilya Rozanov? with his face open and earnest and his hand outstretched.
I think I must have loved you since then, Ilya thought, but he didn’t say it, he just cradled Hollander’s face and deepened the kiss. Hollander sighed into Ilya’s mouth and slid his fingers into Ilya’s hair as Ilya kissed the side of Hollander’s mouth, his jaw, the hollow of his throat.
Hollander should leave soon, and they both knew it, but Ilya was feeling too strung out, like someone had grabbed at his heartstrings and pulled them through his chest cavity. Hollander, he thought, It’s always Hollander.
He let himself forget all of it for just a moment, and he let himself have this, just for tonight, as he collapsed onto Hollander’s chest with a sigh. Hollander froze for a moment, uncertain that this was allowed, before wrapping his arms around Ilya’s back. He traced over the moles on Ilya’s back before gently running his fingers through Ilya’s hair and keeping them there. Ilya closed his eyes and tried not to cry.
“Was good, yes?” Ilya asked softly, careful to keep his voice even.
Hollander’s hands paused in Ilya’s hair. “What?”
Ilya looked up at him, a smirk back on his face, and Hollander narrowed his eyes at him. “Everything I did to you. You liked it.” It wasn’t a question.
Hollander huffed and rolled his eyes, and Ilya grinned at him. “Is okay. I know you did.” He flopped back down onto Hollander’s chest.
“Maybe next time if you win, I still get to do whatever I want to you,” Ilya said cheerfully.
Hollander scoffed, offended. “What? How is that fair?”
Ilya looked up at him again with a wicked grin. “Really is more reward for you than for me. You love it. So many more things I could do to you, Hollander, if you are very lucky.” He pushed himself up to press a kiss under Hollander’s ear. “Puppy,” he whispered with a satisfied smirk.
Hollander’s face was bright red. “Fuck off,” he muttered, and Ilya, pulling him into a kiss with a smile, knew he had won.