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Ilya Rozanov is an open-minded man. He’s been intimate with men and women of all kinds; bisexual, he came to learn it was called.
So when Cliff Marleau suggests a threesome, who is he to say no?
It wasn’t technically a threesome, at least, not according to Cliff Marleau.
Cliff Marleau was straight, but intrigued by the Eiffel Tower position. Like Ilya, Cliff was quite the ladies man, finding a woman in every city, sometimes more.
“Have you ever been to Paris?” Cliff questioned, shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
Ilya scrunched his eyebrows, shaking his head. “No. French are stupid.”
“No, Roz. Not like that.” Cliff chuckled.
“What other Paris is there?” Cliff clapped a hand on Ilya’s shoulder and laughed again. Cliff pointed a finger at Ilya and walked away.
Ilya stood in the locker room, dumbfounded.
Later that night, Ilya receives a text of a link to Porn Hub titled “Her First Time in Paris.” It wasn’t the first time Marleau had sent Ilya links to porn; they never really discussed it, but it was never unwelcome. Cliff knew of a Montreal girl, but even then, those encounters were few and far. Ilya knew that sometimes he could be wound too tight, and maybe his teammate was just trying to help him sort that out.
Ilya wasn’t the biggest fan of this website, finding the videos to be too unrealistic, too performative. But, sometimes the human body’s needs are stronger than logic, which is how Ilya finds himself watching a woman be penetrated from both ends. The men high five and lock hands, creating the shape of the Eiffel Tower. So this is the Paris Cliff was talking about.
Ilya texts back: lets go to paris
The next time they see each other, they work out the details. They’re both cool with being on either end, make sure she’s okay with it too, be safe enough that no one creates a bastard.
Although they both lived in Boston, they agreed that it was smartest to book a hotel room for their safety. Cliff does not need to know that Ilya had suggested a hotel that he knew Montreal had stayed at when they played Boston.
They chose a nightclub walking distance from the hotel. The two weren’t ashamed of their charisma or reputations, but wanted to reduce their chances of leaving a trail, avoid being recognized by an Uber driver.
Ilya had recognized the bartenders, having been here a few times before. He helped himself to a few drinks, leaving a generous tip. Had hockey not worked out, bartending would be at the top of his list. He loved the nightlife; he loved staying out until last call, loud music of all languages, the flashing lights, and dancing with anyone willing— and they were willing.
He had located a few potential lays, but when he hadn’t jumped to leave with them immediately, they lost interest and disappeared. But he couldn’t just jump into it too easily; this was a two-man job.
After making his way around the club, he found his way back to Cliff, who was dancing with a woman, red lights flashing all around. She was at least a foot shorter than Cliff and had dark, long hair. She was grinding against him, eyes falling shut, losing herself in the music. Cliff had that effect on women. He had a drink in one hand, the other sliding down her side.
Ilya made his way over to the two, squeezing through the sea of people of varying levels of sobriety. He slid in front of the woman, making it clear that he was here with Cliff. From this distance, Ilya could see that she had smooth, olive skin. Her hair was a shade of brown Ilya couldn’t quite place in this lighting. The three of them danced together for another song before Ilya leaned in and asked, “do you want to come back to our room?”
When Ilya pulled back, he could see the gears turning in her head, connecting the dots. He had never been turned down, and truthfully, doubted that would ever happen. If people didn’t get with him because of his status, they got with him because he was attractive, and he knew it.
She looked back at Cliff questioningly, tilting her head. He nodded smoothly.
They learned that her name was Molly, and that’s all they needed to know.
The three of them walk back to the hotel, Ilya glancing over his shoulder frequently, just as a precaution. He thinks of the time he ran into Hollander’s mother in the elevator. He thinks about what it would be like if he was seen in an elevator with Cliff Marleau and a gorgeous woman, the three of them headed the same place.
The elevator dings and Cliff leads the way down the hall, opening the door for everyone. He enters the bathroom, leaving Ilya and Molly temporarily alone.
Ilya steps toward Molly, but waiting to touch her until her hand reaches for him. He grabs her side and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss. He doesn’t plan for this to be personal, but does not want to overwhelm her, not just yet. He pulls back, gauging her reaction. She smiles, eyes knowing what’s to come. He pulls his shirt off over his head, throwing it aside. Molly runs her hands down Ilya’s rock hard chest, tracing lines over his abdomen, her hand cold against his warm chest.
Ilya leans back in, rougher this time, crushing their lips together. Their tongues roll over one another, tracing each others’ tongues. Ilya bites her bottom lip into his mouth, pulling it. Truthfully, Ilya loved making out. He loved kissing women, how their lips were always so soft, bright red already. They were gentle, and he found it kind of endearing when they would giggle over things like their teeth clinking together, both parties eager for more. Molly’s lips were full, and with every kiss, felt encompassing against his.
He pulls back when Cliff emerges from the bathroom. He leans in toward her ear, “Think you can handle both of us at the same time?”
Ilya can share, contrary to popular belief. He backs away from Molly, allowing Cliff to take over. Ilya heads to the bed, leaving a trail of the rest of his clothes along the way.
Cliff takes Molly by the hand, pulling her toward him. He tips his head down, planting small kisses to her neck, working his way to her mouth. Cliff cups the back of her head and kisses her much deeper than Ilya did, wanting to taste all of her, taste Ilya on her mouth. They continue like that for a few beats, Cliff touching anywhere he can: her back, her sides, her hair. He chanced a hand under her shirt, sliding it up the hem. She shuddered under his touch. He found her breasts, unrestricted beneath her satin top. He thumbs over her nipple, nuzzling his face in her neck again, nipping and kissing at it.
Molly leans her head back, granting Cliff access. In the process, her eyes fall half shut-half open, catching a glimpse of Ilya. She leans in toward Cliff’s ear and whispers, “let’s not leave your friend waiting.” She pushes him off her, softly, wanting to move things out of the entryway.
This time, Molly drags Cliff by the hand, leading him to the bed, allowing Ilya to clearly see what they’re doing. Still standing, she reaches for Cliff’s zipper, undoing his jeans. She yanks them down, revealing his cock hard under his briefs. Her slender fingers walk across his length. She palms at him with one hand, pushing him down on the bed with the other, eyes hungry for more. Cliff is a big guy in every sense: broad shoulders, hands can close a fist over every woman’s, towering over most men. This, however, does not appear to intimidate her.
Molly lowers herself onto her knees between Cliff’s legs. She hooks her fingers under Cliff’s waistband, freeing his cock.
Molly starts by taking Cliff in her mouth, eagerly sucking in the tip, rolling her head in a circle. She pulls off, kissing down his shaft, and reaches over to stroke Ilya with her free hand. She works her way back up to Cliff’s tip, engulfing Cliff’s length into her mouth. She takes him a little deeper this time, pressing halfway down, cheeks hollowing. She stops stroking Ilya, struggling to maintain rhythm with both men. She plants her hands on Cliff’s thighs, giving him all of her focus. Her head bobs with each inch, enthusiastically humming around him, eliciting a groan from him.
Ilya runs his fingers through her hair, reminding her that he’s there, too.
When Molly finally touches her nose to Cliff, effectively deepthroating him, she pulls off Cliff shifting toward Ilya, planting herself in front of him. Ilya runs his fingers through her hair and down her cheek, cupping her chin in his hand.
Ilya takes his cock into his hand, running it across her lips. Cliff, watching from the other side of the couch, begins stroking himself, watching.
Ilya pushes her spit-slick lips apart with the tip and she opens her mouth in invitation. He’s bigger than Cliff, Molly not able to take as much. Still, she leans onto Ilya eager to impress both of them. She pulls off, licking a stripe up the shaft, taking him in again. She attempts to take him further, but to no avail. Ilya runs a thumb over her cheek.
Molly puts her fist around the bottom of Ilya’s shaft and begins sucking harder, head bobbing. Her movements become more rhythmic, hand twisting simultaneously.
Cliff taps her shoulder. She pulls off of Ilya, drawing her attention black to Cliff. He pulls her up off her knees, facing her.
Ilya watches intently, stroking his own. He can see that she has a nice ass, round and petite. He’s not mentally comparing it to any guy he’s been with, and definitely not one in particular. He squeezes himself harder, pulling himself out of his spiraling thoughts. He wants to last.
Cliff lifts her top over her head, tossing it aside. She shucks off her skirt and panties, throwing them in the same direction. He pushes her back onto the bed, spreading her legs gently. “I’m going to eat you out for a little, okay?” Molly nods in agreement, looking up at him through her lush, mascara beaded lashes.
Cliff kisses down her chest, sucking in a nipple, before lowering himself between her legs, delving his tongue in. He widens his tongue, licking between folds.
If there’s one thing Ilya knows about Cliff’s sex life, it’s that he never passes up a chance to go down on a woman, believes that not enough men do it. He wraps an arm around her thigh, bracing himself, wanting to touch.
He licks up her slit, burying his face in her pussy.
Cliff continues for a few more minutes, lapping, before pulling off, mouth wet with Molly’s juices. He looks at Molly, sees her pussy leaking.
Ilya smiles.
Cliff offers a hand to Molly, and leads her back to the floor, the bed seeming too unstable for the action. “You wanna get on your hands and knees for me?”
Ilya stands up from the bed, stroking himself as he walks over toward the two of them. He grabs a condom from the pocket of his jeans, rolling it on.
Cliff stands in front of her, Molly and Cliff face to face. Ilya kneels behind her, his own choice. He scoots up against her, pressing his cock against her ass, testing the waters. “This ok?”
Ilya sticks his tip against her entrance, sliding it up and down, dragging her wet up to her clit. “Shhh.” Molly reaches behind her, searching for Ilya’s length, trying to bring him closer. “Be patient.”
Cliff tips Molly’s head back to face him. She looks up at him, smiling. He leads her to his cock, easing the tip into her mouth. She sucks it in slowly, struggling to focus on either man. He looks over to Ilya and nods. Ilya slowly pushes into her hole, halfway. He stays there for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the feeling of being full. He steadies a hand on her hip and increases his pace, breathy moan escaping his lips.
Cliff pushes more of his length into her mouth, wet noises from her, and moans from Cliff filling the mostly empty hotel room. He grabs the back of her head and pushes it, forcing more of his cock into her mouth, spit spilling out the corners of her lips. The angle is a bit awkward with him being the only one standing. He pulls out of her, lips and tongue smacking from the release. He gets on his knees. The angle is easier this way, can tilt her head and more easily fuck her mouth.
This time, it’s Molly that lunges toward Cliff’s cock. She locks her fist around the base, twisting her hand and bobbing her head, like he saw her do to Ilya. Cliff feels every hit toward the back of her throat, grunting each time. “Fuck.”
Ilya has both hands on her hips now, fingertips pressing into her asscheeks, holding her in place, rocking into her, doing his best to not pull her off Cliff. He lifts one hand, sucking his thumb into his own mouth, slicking it with his spit. Ilya runs his nail across the roof of his mouth, making sure it’s not sharp. He places his hand back onto her ass, slowly slipping his thumb into her asshole, their skin slapping against each other. She moans around Cliff’s length, pleasure surging through her whole body.
Cliff pulls out of her mouth, scooting closer.
Ilya rocks into her slowly with a steady pulse, gradually giving her more with each movement. He can feel her squeezing his cock, sending chills through his body. Ilya slows his pace, allowing Cliff to reposition himself, and pressing himself all the way into Molly. He throws his head back, unable to bite back his moan.
Cliff looks down at Molly, lifting her chin. “Can I fuck your mouth?” She stares at him, pupils blown.
“Yes.”
He tips her head down slightly, aligning her mouth with her throat. Cliff presses in slowly, testing how far he can go, how much of him she can take. He pushes a few inches in, and slides back out, fucking slowly. The sound of suction fills the air as he fucks her mouth, palm of his hand braced on her back, feeling a sheen of sweat. He starts slow, not wanting to overwhelm her, and wanting to avoid any accidental teeth. After he sees how much she can take, he picks up his speed, properly fucking her mouth.
Ilya increases his pace, hips snapping, sweat beading on his forehead. Between ragged breaths, Ilya murmurs, “Marley.” Ilya looks at Cliff, back at Molly, then at Cliff, jaw slack.
The one thing that makes an Eiffel Tower and Eiffel Tower is the two men locking hands. Rozanov was not shy, and Marleau was not one to back down from a challenge from his captain.
Rozanov lifts one hand in the air toward Marleau, and he accepts. After they lock fingers, they do the same with their other hands. As if they suddenly became one, their paces quickly aligned, all three of them rocking in sync. Rozanov looks back at Marleau, breath heavy.
Ilya fucked harder, slowly losing control, bracing himself with Marleau’s hands. He closed his eyes, thinking of another similar tightness. He knew he could only last a few more paces, but he could feel Molly building up, needing friction. Ilya didn’t just want to fuck her, wanted to please her, make this worth her time. He doesn’t quit.
He loses control of his rhythm, instinct taking over. He cries out, jolting forward and releasing in her, inside the condom.
They continue like that until Marleau’s breaths become shorter, nearing climax. “Roz-“ Marleau lets go of Ilya’s hands, pulls out of Molly’s mouth when he feels a knot low in his stomach, walks over to the bed, hand working on himself. He tugs hard, cock slick with Molly’s spit, and spills over his own hand.
Ilya slows his pace, placing a hand on Molly’s shoulder. He could feel her pulsing on him becoming faster. “Are you close?”
Molly nodded, “Yes.” Her voice was hoarse and wrecked.
Ilya grabs her hip, reaching around in front of her. He slides his hand down the front of her body, finding her slit. “Is this okay?”
Her breathing has become even heavier. She lifts one hand to find his, guiding him to her clit. Ilya rubs her clit gently, knowing she’s nearly spent, not wanting to hurt her, knowing how sensitive it can get. He only rubs around it three times before he can feel a final clench, then throbs in succession. He lets her catch her breath before slowly pulling out, holding onto her hips.
Ilya slides off the condom, ties it off, and throws it in the trash. He offers a hand to Molly, leading her to the edge of the bed. Ilya hands her a water bottle and shows her to the bathroom. She picks up her clothes and shuts the door.
When she emerged several minutes later, she was fully clothed, looking like the woman he saw across the club earlier in the evening. Her hair, however, was now pulled back into a bun, loose strands falling on either side. Molly breaks the silence. “That was fun.”
Ilya nods. She was pretty, but Ilya could not care if he ever saw her again. That’s not what this was.
Ilya really wanted a cigarette. He often craved them after sex, almost needing them. A voice in his head, softer than his own, reminded him: smoking is bad for you. But, Ilya didn’t care right now.
He walked Molly to the door and wished her well.
Marleau had been laying in bed, exhausted from being sex drunk.
When the door shut, Marleau stirred in the bed. Ilya slapped Cliff’s arm and asked, “are you staying here tonight?”
Marleau groaned. “Mmm. Yeah.”
Ilya set the alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed. He’ll be damned if his alternate misses practice in the morning.
Ilya just wanted to go home to his own bed, needing a familiar comfort. He found his phone and got himself a ride. “Good night, Marley!” Ilya called out from the door.
The snoring in the distance told Ilya that his work here was done and he would be leading practice alone tomorrow.