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shane was sitting peacefully in one of the adirondack chairs on the back deck, reading the book he’d brought with him to the cottage about the rivalry between the oilers and the flames in the 80s, something his dad had recommended to him awhile ago. he had an amazing view of the lake from the cottage, all green and blue, especially early in the day like this when the sun was high and reflecting off the water. it was a nice day, 25 degrees according to his watch. ilya was passed out in the chair next to him, having joined him out here for morning coffee. he was shirtless, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and slides. shane supposed there was a time he might’ve been annoyed that ilya found sitting here with him so boring he fell asleep drinking coffee, but he hardly minded now.
what did bother shane was that ilya was so directly in the sun. he burned so easily, too. last summer his shoulders burnt so badly he looked like a lobster. shane was already preparing to wake him up to make him reapply his sunscreen (or maybe ask to apply it for him) when the other man cracked an eye.
“oh good, you’re awake. you should put some more sunscreen on.”
“mm, i think you want to do it for me.” ilya squinted against the sunlight on his face, brought an arm up over his forehead to shade his eyes.
“you’re funny,” shane scoffed, reaching down to toss the bottle of sunscreen that sat by his chair at ilya’s chest. he didn’t mention that he’d been idly daydreaming about that very same thing, instead training his eyes back on his book.
“that was not a no,” ilya pointed out, but he picked the bottle up and dutifully started applying it. if shane watched him out of the corner of his eye, that was his business. ilya rozanov was all golden in the sunlight, his hair, his skin - shane wished he had the words to describe it. sometimes he felt like he’d never get used to it, the enormity of the feelings he had for this man that he had spent so much time trying to deny. he lost his place in his book thinking about it. ilya cleared his throat, drawing shane’s attention even further.
“so…” ilya began, conversationally, when he was done, “i’ve been thinking.”
“about?” shane prompted. ilya’s tone was different. too casual, like he was trying to be nonchalant. it was enough to make shane put his book down and look at him.
“do you remember uh, what we did on the couch awhile ago?” he said it slowly, carefully. shane frowned. there were a lot of things they’d done on the couch.
“you’ll have to be more specific.”
“when you, ah, you know.” ilya made a suggestive hand gesture. he was a little flushed.
“oh! yep. yes, i remember.” shane felt a similar bashfulness. it was funny, for all they had done together, this had them both nervous like they were teenagers again. it was almost nice to feel like they were on even footing.
“could we do that again?” ilya was looking down at his lap, where he was still holding the bottle of sunscreen. it seemed to take a lot of effort from him to ask, and shane was painfully endeared by it.
“yeah, for sure. yes.” he replied maybe a little too quickly, given the way ilya’s eyebrows shot up, mouth quirking up at the corners.
“shut up,” he blurted immediately after. which only made ilya smile more. shane’s face grew hot, but he valiantly ignored it.
“ok.” ilya looked him up and down, appraising. he looked satisfied, at least much less nervous. he stood up then, towering over shane. it reminded him instantly of the showers after their first ccm photoshoot together, when ilya had asked for his room number. but they’d been teenagers then, strangers. shane hadn’t known what to expect from it. he’d just been so enthralled by this handsome boy and that vee of muscle at his belt line that seemed to point directly at his dick. it was the same now, the same beautiful man who was asking for something from him again - just older, more familiar.
it still set his nervous system alight to look up at him, the intensity in his molten blue eyes. shane swallowed against that familiar antsy feeling, face still on fire, fiddling with his book to distract himself.
“what uh. what made you think of it?” shane asked, because it seemed a little out of the blue. ilya shrugged.
“had a dream about it.” he didn’t elaborate, just adjusted himself very obviously in his shorts and walked away, idly scratching at his chest hair.
“where are you going?”
“morning swim,” ilya called back, approaching the dock. shane watched as he kicked off his slides and dropped his shorts, naked as the day he was born, and jumped in the lake. shane huffed out a laugh and shook his head fondly. ilya would regret not wearing his water shoes.
-
he bandaged ilya’s foot in the bathroom, crouching in front of the toilet, foot propped up on his thigh.
“i told you the rocks were sharp last summer,” he reminded ilya once again as the other man flinched away from the hydrogen peroxide. it wasn’t too bad - a few cuts here and there, but you’d think ilya needed his foot amputated from the way he bitched and moaned.
“stupid rocks, what business do they have acting like knives?” ilya grumbled, complaining like he had been for the past 10 minutes. shane had made him shower first, because while he loved the lake, he was not fond of the lake smell inside of his house.
“you’re lucky you didn’t get a fish hook caught in here - people love to fish in this lake, and they’re not very careful when they do.” shane finished cleaning the cuts, and began dabbing each one with vaseline. he remembered finding this out for himself as a child, and his mother doing the very same thing for him.
“well, at least my nurse is sexy.”
“oh, yeah?” shane finished with the vaseline, and pulled out the box of bandages from his first aid kit, rummaging for the appropriately sized ones.
“yes, big strong man to take care of me, bandage my wounds.”
“sounds nice. do you think they have another one in stock?” shane said dryly, applying the last bandage to the heel of ilya’s foot.
“ouch, so mean to me. hurts almost as much as lake knives.” ilya threw his head back in feigned agony, hand pressed to his chest. shane patted his ankle to signal that he was finished before dumping his foot onto the ground.
“you are so dramatic,” shane said with no heat behind it. he stood up, and ilya caught him by the hips. he reeled him in close, smiling up at him.
“thank you, lyubimyy.” it was soft, sweet. shane carded a hand through his hair, unfortunately and immensely taken with him.
“you’re welcome, baby.” ilya had gotten more used to the endearment, but he still tucked his face into shane’s torso. they stayed there for a moment, until shane’s watch pinged. it was definitely his parents, whom they had agreed to have lunch with today. if there was anything yuna hollander hated more than losing, it was tardiness.
“we should go soon.” neither of them moved. ilya nuzzled at his stomach. shane sighed. he checked the time.
“we have 10 minutes.”
“i only need 5,” ilya promised, and nipped at hipbone. shane could concede that he was probably right.
they ended up making it right on time, which was still late to his mother, but she was only mildly put out by it, so it was a win for them both.
-
they spent the afternoon talking about the charity they would be co-founding this year, with yuna as executive director. there had really been no question when they’d told shane’s parents about it and yuna had put on her game face - “what do you need from me?” she’d asked, and in turn the answer was simple: “you.” she was doing an excellent job at helping coordinate the lawyers and a board of directors, talking to locations for the hockey camp, contacting donors. she had always been very hands on with every aspect of shane’s career, and doing this with her had been very fulfilling, if not vaguely stressful. his mother was an intense person.
shane’s dad was mostly just happy to be there. he was supportive, a sounding board kind of person. he’d always been mild, pleasant. if his mother was a hurricane, his father was a peaceful lake. he mostly let yuna take charge, was happy to interject here and there with an opinion or a question. he was a good listener, and easy to talk to. he knew everything yuna was doing with the charity, and did his part to help. david had donated a hefty sum, and talked to his coworkers from the treasury board as well as his old hockey buddies from mcgill about donating and sending their grandkids to their camp. he’d done a good job of drumming up interest, and as they were wrapping up the planning phase they already had several families reach out about enrolling their kids.
it was exciting. it felt like a family affair in a way, ilya’s mother the inspiration and shane’s parents helping make it a reality. shane held ilya’s hand on the table as they sat and ate, content in a way that still felt brand new. showing his family how much he loved ilya made him feel invincible, the confidence and pride his parents had in them both meant everything to shane. there was at least one place where they could be in love, together, and other people could see it. after they’d come out to them, yuna and david had insisted on building a relationship with ilya, calling and texting him and inviting him to spend christmas with them. maybe another person would find it overbearing, but ilya only seemed to thrive under the attention.
david and yuna were obviously excited for him to live close, asking about where he was moving to and volunteering to come down to boston to help out with his move. after their stay at the lake, all three hollanders would go down to boston to help out with whatever ilya needed, wrapping up any loose ends.
the afternoon quickly became evening - they had a lot to talk about. ilya never seemed to tire of david’s hockey stories or yuna’s big plans for (hockey) world domination. he was always happy to listen, and even happier to drink half a pitcher of lemonade. shane was usually the one who had to drag him away before his parents offered for them to stay for dinner, which was the case today as well. it wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend more time with them; he loved his mom and dad.
it was just that when they’d moved from the kitchen to the sitting room, ilya had planted a hand on shane’s thigh and left it there. he kept squeezing his leg and smiling and enjoying shane’s parents so much… it was reminding shane of why he loved him, why he was doing all of this in the first place. about their future together, about the rest of their lives. ilya was doing such a good job planning too, so responsive, so organized.
jesus, shane was getting hot under the collar as ilya was talking about a meeting with the events coordinator for the rink they were using for their hockey camp. he waited patiently for the conversation to die down, then clasped ilya’s hand and told his parents that they’d better get going.
-
shane was really a very patient person. he waited for his parents to say their long goodbyes, for ilya and his mother to have a second full conversation standing in the doorway of their house. he’d waited the 15 minutes it took to get to the cottage, and the time it took to walk from the driveway to the front door.
when the door shut behind ilya, shane whirled around, striding purposefully towards him. ilya backed up, confusion written all over his face.
“woah, hey, what is -“
that’s as far as he got before shane was grabbing his face and hauling him in.
ilya was, as always, quick to get with the program. he took ahold of shane’s hips, his tongue sliding into his mouth with a practiced ease. shane dug his fingers into ilya’s hair, helpless little noises rising up in his throat. they were pressed together everywhere, ilya’s back up against the door.
“not that i mind,” ilya managed between kisses, “but it’s a little random, no?”
shane pulled away then, and looked at him for a long moment.
“i’m so fucking proud of you. i want to live the rest of our lives together. and i want to fuck you.” shane said, and ilya grinned in that breathless, dazzling way of his.
“fucking get in me then, hollnder.”
-
shane had him on his front. ilya was propped up on a pillow, already swearing as shane was using his tongue to open him up. he felt like he was getting better at it - much like sucking dick, shane aimed to please. he was quickly figuring out that what ilya really, really liked was when shane manhandled him. when he pushed and pulled him, when he was rough with him. it got him going in a way shane hadn’t seen from him before - he was loud. he was often vocal in the bedroom but not like he was when shane pushed a finger into him alongside his tongue.
“fuck, shane,” he gasped, and let out a string of curses in russian. it felt a little mean to add another finger as soon as he did but ilya was moaning so obscenely.
“more hollander, fucking come on, want you inside me - don’t you want it?”
it had shane fumbling for the lube, coating his fingers in it before pressing them back inside. ilya was as tight as ever, but it was much faster this time around for him to relax. shane carefully angled his fingers, and was rewarded by the way ilya shouted when he started hitting the right spot.
“yeah, just like that,” ilya rasped, and shane felt like he was getting turned inside out. he focused on his breathing, where ilya’s body met his hand. he wanted to be good for him. wanted him in any and every way. he used his free hand to grab ilya’s hip, dug his fingers into the tender flesh there. ilya reached back and held his wrist, comforting, grounding. he was incredibly good at reading what shane needed. shane only hoped ilya felt the same way about him.
-
“just fuck me already,” ilya ground out. shane had three fingers buried to the hilt inside of him.
“are you sure?” shane asked, feeling a little raw inside. he knew ilya was ready. was he ready?
ilya looked back at him, and shane knew he had more to improve on, because he could still be bitchy.
“hollander. you are going to lay down on your back and i am going to get your dick in me and we are both going to come from it, okay? i am sure.”
well, when he put it like that.
“yeah, yeah okay.” shane pulled his fingers out and they rearranged. shane laid on his back, slightly propped up by pillows, ilya looming over him in a way that was both intimately familiar and brand new. he had one knee on either side of shane’s hips, and when shane reached for the lube, ilya slapped his hands away.
“what did i say? i am doing this.” ilya uncapped the bottle, leaned forward and reached back to slick shane’s cock, line him up, and sink down onto him. they both moaned as he did, shane’s mouth falling slack as ilya took more of him. he was gloriously tight, haloed by the light behind him. jesus, he looked like a greek god, his muscles, his fucking face - shane had to stop thinking about it or he was going to come instantly.
“not gonna last,” shane gritted out, his hands had found themselves on ilya’s ass and then onto his hips, locking around his waist. ilya was sinking down slowly, but he managed to smirk down at shane, imperious and a little smug.
“i know. it’s okay. you’re just going to have to make me come fast, too. you can manage this, no?” he bottomed out, their hips flush together. his hands were on shane’s chest, bracing himself.
“fuck you, rozanov.” it sounded weak even to shane’s ears. ilya picked up a slow rhythm, up and down. shane moved one of his hands to start jerking ilya off.
“mm i think that’s the plan, right? or do you need me to do all of the work? it’s okay if you’re tired hollander, hard work for a princess.” shane snarled up at him, planting his feet to start fucking up into him. ilya bent forward, his eyes trained on shane’s. they met in the middle with a bruising kiss, aggressive and uncoordinated. ilya bit his lip, and shane moaned from the sharp pleasure-pain of it.
shane switched their positions, manhandled ilya flat onto his front, pulling one of his legs up by the knee. he draped himself over the long line of ilya’s body, pressing in and holding himself up as his hips pistoned in and out of him. the change in position had been an excellent idea, ilya gasping as shane started hitting that sweet spot in him. shane lowered himself so they were chest to back and kissed the side of his face and the shell of his ear until ilya turned his head enough so they could kiss. it was more of an idea of kissing than actually kissing, they were just kind of panting into each other’s mouths. ilya’s arm came up and he took a handful of shane’s hair, just like shane did to him when they were fucking like this. it hurt. shane inhaled sharply, and willed himself not to come.
“tell me you’re close, jesus christ,” shane muttered, low and hot into the space between them. ilya grunted, eyes unfocused, mouth hanging open. shane pulled back again, thrusts loose and sloppy as he careened off the edge.
“come on, come for me baby, please,” shane begged, moving in and out of ilya jaggedly, grinding to a halt as he emptied into him. ilya rutted into the mattress, once, twice, and then stilled, whimpering. he got impossibly tighter, pulsating all around shane’s cock, and shane made a pathetic, pained sound as he hit a wall of overstimulation that had him shaking and sweating all over. if some tears escaped him, that was between him and ilya’s back. he swore loudly, bit down on ilya’s shoulderblade as they rode it out together.
as they came down, he peppered kisses into ilya’s hair and on the back of his neck. they stayed like that for a long time, even after shane had slipped out of him.
-
eventually, shane rolled off of him. he got up to grab a towel, and thought idly about how they would have to change the sheets.
“i feel like i have no bones,” ilya said, lying face down on the bed like a corpse. shane snorted, and came up behind him with the idea of wiping him down. there was such a mess between his legs; shane couldn’t help it. he took a look at his handiwork, sort of shocked by the idea that he’d done this to him. he wondered if ilya ever felt surprised by himself - but maybe not. ilya had done this kind of thing way more, and he had certainly reduced shane down to his bare essentials. shane’s traitorous dick twitched at the sight, and he willed himself to behave as he gently cleaned the worst of it off. ilya hummed as he did it, stretching languorously like a housecat. god, his back muscles were insane.
shane was mortified by the idea that he could get it up again so soon. he felt crazy. ilya flopped over when shane was done, out of the wet spot on the duvet, and shane gave him the same treatment for the front. ilya had his hands behind his head, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. he looked at shane, and then looked down. his eyebrow shot up, and he looked at shane’s face, grinning like a maniac.
“wow hollander, so soon? must be a record.”
“shut up. it’s your fault.”
“sorry,” he said, sounding not sorry at all. shane took the towel when he was satisfied - he rinsed it out and hung it to dry on the edge of the bathtub. by the time he came back, ilya had gathered up the sheets and had presumably taken them to the laundry room downstairs, so he went into the bathroom again and turned on the shower. he sighed as he waited for the water to warm up and stared at the ceiling, willing his half hard dick to go down.
unfortunately, as he stood there a pair of strong arms came up around him. ilya kissed his neck and touched him all over, which had the opposite effect on him. shane sighed again, tilting his head so ilya had better access.
“get in the shower,” ilya breathed against his skin and shane obeyed immediately.
-
an hour and a half later, shane was watching ilya make poke bowls. neither of them were incredible in the kitchen - they both just usually went with whatever their nutritionists told them to do. but ilya was trying, and shane loved him for it. it wasn’t exactly complicated - but he had insisted on making something for shane that was not in their usual summer menu of burgers, hot dogs, and pasta.
“y’know my mom was never much of a cook - my dad always did most of the cooking when i was a kid. one thing we always had was rice, though. rice with anything - rice with chilli, sometimes rice with pasta, rice with stew.”
“you cannot go wrong with rice, just like bread,” ilya said, finishing off his creation with a sprinkle of furikake. he’d made them with salmon over white rice, which was an indulgence shane allowed himself over the summer. he served shane his dinner with a quick kiss, settling down on the bar stool next to him.
“thank you,” shane said, smiling as ilya picked up his chopsticks. he was getting better at eating with them - another insistence of his. he’d never had anyone care so much about those little details before - it had never been a huge part of his upbringing, since his mother was not very close to her parents. he’d only seen them a handful of times before they’d passed away, but the memories he had felt like the only tie to them and to that part of his identity. even still, ilya made it a point to care about these kinds of things, and it made shane oddly emotional. he’d never mattered this much to someone else.
the fact was that he’d never been with anyone this seriously, and neither had ilya. it was another first they were sharing together - all of it was new. shane watched ilya triumphantly wave a piece of avocado in the air with his chopsticks after struggling with it for a few moments.
“i think i’m getting better than you at this, hollander.” shane snorted and picked up a single piece of corn with a swift and practiced ease, which set them both off, seeing who was the best at picking up single grains of rice.
obviously, shane won. he fed the piece of salmon he was holding to ilya, who had been pouting about the loss. they grinned at each other. ilya leaned in and gave him a peck, and then launched into a story about cliff marlow’s failed dating life, mouth full of food. shane smiled, and listened, and loved him.