Chapter Text
Ilya petted Shane’s hair as they lounged on the couch together in their home. On the screen in front of them was an image of the inside of their home, specifically the kitchen. They watched as Ilya whisked away at their kitchen island, holding a metal bowl at an angle. A few months back, they had hosted a small crew to come and film a short documentary on Ilya’s life now that he was retired. Though the documentary was focused on Ilya, Shane was inevitably a part of it, given that they were husbands and lived together. They had been out for years, and despite a lingering level of backlash, the hockey community had largely accepted them.
“Ilya has taken up cooking and baking in his retirement,” the narrator said. Ilya wore a black t-shirt, the gold chain of his necklace peaked out and his biceps were flexed as he whipped the cream in the bowl. He looked hot, Shane thought. He always looked hot.
“Whipped cream,” Ilya explained, tipping the bowl towards the audience to reveal almost stiff peaks. “For strawberry shortcake.”
The shot switched to a high definition focus shot of the strawberry shortcakes as Ilya meticulously scooped and shaped the whipped cream onto them. Ilya’s voice now narrated, “When we were still playing, we had to stick to strict diet. Now, we can let loose a little.”
Shane smiled. He always loved when Ilya referred to them as ‘we’.
“Shane loves these,” TV Ilya said with a smile. The shot switched back to Ilya leaning on the counter behind his work, a proud smile plastered on his face. “Shane!” He called out, still smiling. The next shot showed Shane padding awkwardly into the kitchen. He wore jeans and a dark green sweatshirt.
Shane realized how staged it looked considering that it wasn’t. They had edited out the part where he had called back ‘what?’ He had been in the other room reading, not thinking they would need him until later.
Ilya handed him a glass parfait dish with strawberry shortcake and they each took a bite. “Mm,” Shane had hummed, nodding. His awkwardness on and off camera had never faded, Ilya loved it. “It’s great.”
“He loves my baking,” Ilya said proudly, reaching a thumb up to wipe some whipped cream from Shane’s lip.
“He’s pretty good,” Shane said. “Not as good as my mom though.”
“You can go now,” Ilya joked with an indignant face. The documentary then transitioned to a scene of Ilya in the kitchen alone again and Shane laughed.
“They make me look like asshole,” Ilya said incredulously, motioning towards the TV.
“You are an asshole,” Shane rebuffed. Ilya only squeezed him and pulled him in closer which Shane did not protest.
“Cooking has been fun to learn,” Ilya continued. “I make traditional Russian dishes that my mother used to make. Shane’s mother teaches me the recipes she made for him. I am home more now and it is good way to fill the time.” On screen, Ilya sauteed onions. He had made a pasta dish that day and shared it with Shane and the filming crew.
“That pasta was so good,” Shane said.
“You liked it? I will make it for you again soon,” Ilya promised.
The documentary continued on to talk about Ilya’s workout routine. Shots of their home gym crossed the screen, followed by shots of Ilya lifting weights. Sweat glistened on his skin. “This is boring,” Ilya said, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. Shane disagreed but understood. All of these documentaries were similar. Shane had done one a couple of years prior.
“I just wanted to see you eating for me on national television,” Ilya said.
“You got your wish,” Shane said.
“Mm, I wish they had not cut out the part where you finished the whole dessert,” he said, kissing Shane’s temple. In reality, he knew that they would not include that. Even though they were retired, hockey media didn’t like to actually show ex-players enjoying themselves. In their eyes, one bite of strawberry shortcake was an indulgence. Eating the entire thing on screen would be entirely too gluttonous. Shane laughed.
“I don’t think it’s true that the camera adds ten pounds,” he said. “I didn’t think the sweatshirt would hide it so well.”
The ‘it’ that Shane was referring to was the weight that he had put on in retirement. And ‘it’ wasn’t just the few pounds that every player inevitably put on after no longer being a pro-athlete. Shane had gained that and then some.
—
Shane’s weight gain had been a journey. Yet another interesting turn in his and Ilya’s relationship. It had started the summer after Ilya had officially retired. Shane had almost joined him but decided that he’d stick around for one more season, maybe even two if his body would let him. They had been at the cottage, spending another summer in their happy place.
“How does it feel?” Shane asked, sitting next to Ilya on the dock. Their feet dangled over the edge, inches above the water. “Retirement,” he clarified.
“Good,” Ilya said. “I will miss you still but I will see you more and I will have whole year to become the perfect husband for you when you retire.”
Shane chuckled but he was also touched. He brushed Ilya’s foot with his toe in acknowledgement.
“Your last season probably. How does it feel?” Ilya looked at Shane who was staring out at the water.
“Weird,” he said. “But I’m ready to be with you more. We’ve never really had that. I want that.”
“Yes,” Ilya said. He leaned over and kissed Shane’s shoulder.
“It will be nice to relax,” Ilya said. “No alarms, no stupid diets.”
Shane chuckled. He knew that Ilya hated his macrobiotic diet.
“It’ll be hard to change my diet,” he said. “I’ve been on it for so long.”
“It won’t be so hard when I cook good food for you,” Ilya insisted. He had never been much of a cook but that could change now that he had time.
Shane chuckled again. “What, like your tuna melt?”
“Yes, if you want. I’ll cook you whatever you want as long as you are good boy and eat it for me,” Ilya pouted.
Shane laughed and averted his eyes. Why did that comment make his stomach flip? And worse yet, why did he feel himself getting slightly hard at the idea? He tried his best to shake the thought. He focused instead on the bliss that he felt to be here with Ilya, looking out over the water, feet brushing each others’.
Ilya had jumped into the water moments later and begged Shane to join him but he had refused, choosing to watch instead. It wasn’t boring. Ilya was fun to watch. With his hair slicked back by the water and droplets of moisture dripping down his muscular form. Shane had plenty to look at. After a few minutes, Ilya swam up to the dock and kissed Shane’s ankle.
“I want pizza,” he said. Shane hesitated. He had already planned to make salmon salads that night. He started to speak but Ilya cut him off. “I know you were going to make salad but I want pizza. I will get pizza and you can have boring salad.”
Ilya climbed up the ladder onto the dock and shook his hair, covering Shane with droplets of water.
“Asshole,” Shane said, grabbing at Ilya’s legs.
“You love me,” Ilya said, swooping down to kiss him. Shane rolled his eyes and stood.
“I do,” he affirmed.
“Come, I’m hungry,” Ilya said, patting Shane’s butt.
They walked back towards the cottage and Ilya showered before plopping onto the couch, pulling out his phone. Shane watched on as he built his own pizza. He couldn’t tell what Ilya was putting on it but he could tell it was a lot. Ilya was like that. He’d mix ingredients together that he liked, not caring whether they went together or not. Shane moved to the kitchen to make his start prepping the salmon for his salad. He cracked open a ginger ale and took a sip. Pulling the salmon out of the fridge, he heard Ilya approaching, his slides slapping against the floor.
“I ordered two pizzas, they had this thing ‘BOGO’,” Ilya said, sounding unsure.
“Buy one, get one,” Shane explained.
“Oh, a good deal,” Ilya said, his face lighting up.
“That’s a lot of pizza,” Shane said, setting the salmon on the counter. Ilya crowded him and kissed him.
“You will have to help me finish it then,” he said before kissing him once more. Again, Shane’s stomach churned at the comment. He decided to test the waters.
“Are you trying to fatten me up or something?” Shane said weakly when Ilya began to kiss his neck.
“Mm, maybe,” Ilya purred. Another weirdly hot pang in Shane’s abdomen. Ilya palmed Shane’s dick which was chubbing up already. “I have been thinking about how I want to cook for you. Take care of you.”
Shane whimpered at the words, at the sensation of Ilya’s hand on his hardening cock, at the wet kisses Ilya was placing on his neck. Ilya’s other hand slid up Shane’s t-shirt and landed on his meaty chest. He squeezed before thumbing over Shane’s sensitive nipple. Shane shuddered and nuzzled his face into Ilya’s neck. The Russian man dipped down and wrapped his strong hands around Shane’s thighs and lifted him effortlessly onto the counter. Ilya pulled Shane’s shirt off and dropped it onto the floor. He let out a contented moan as he kissed Shane once more, letting his hands come to the soft skin of his torso, squeezing at the developed muscles.
“You are so beautiful,” Ilya said in Russian between kisses. Shane sighed. “All mine.”
Shane was just palming over Ilya’s dick when the man pulled away and smiled. “You are excited.”
Shane looked at him peeved, brows knit. He wasn’t in the mood to be teased. Ilya reached out and cupped his chin. “Don’t make your salmon. Eat pizza with me. It’s your break.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. I’m still making salad though.”
“Deal. Make some for me, too,” Ilya said. “It will go good with the pizza.”
—
“Try it,” Ilya said. Shane grimaced at the pizza presented to him which was topped with chicken, tomatoes, bar-b-que sauce, black olives, mushrooms, pepperoni, and pineapple. It was certainly an interesting assortment of toppings. Ilya sensed his hesitation. “Take off what you don’t like. I want to watch you eat.” Ilya gave him a challenging look and Shane hated that he couldn’t resist it. He reached for a slice and began picking off the black olives. Once he finished, he looked to Ilya for instruction. He got nothing, Ilya was just taking a sip of Coke and watching the screen. Shane took a bite and began chewing. Ilya leaned back and instead of watching, he reached over and placed a free hand on Shane’s thigh, squeezing.
Shane was slightly confused but kept eating. Ilya continued his ministrations on Shane’s leg, inching his hand slowly up the inside of Shane’s thigh. Ilya finished his slice and reached forward for the salad that Shane had prepared. He removed his hand from Shane’s thigh to pick up his fork. Shane wanted to whine but his pride won over and he simply continued to eat his pizza. Ilya leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee, his thigh resting on Shane’s lap. He took a few bites of salad, still focused on the TV. After a couple of minutes, he looked at Shane with interest and Shane looked back at him with pleading eyes. He craved direction. He licked the corner of his mouth and tasted bar-b-que sauce. They gazed at each other intensely for a few moments before Ilya nodded towards Shane’s unfinished slice.
“More,” he prodded. Shane stayed frozen for a beat, swallowing his nerves. He looked away briefly before raising the slice to his mouth and taking a bite, chewing carefully. Ilya’s eyes flicked between Shane’s eyes, mouth, and hand. Shane swallowed and watched Ilya’s hungry eyes flitting around. He took another bite and Ilya licked his lips, making Shane do the same as he chewed. The slice was nearly gone. He’d taken a small one. He took another bite. Ilya set his bowl down. Shane took another bite. Ilya leaned forward and kissed his neck. Shane, lost in the sensation, lowered his hand and melted into Ilya’s warm lips on his neck, sighing and lulling his head to the side to give Ilya more room to explore.
Ilya’s lips moved closer to Shane’s ear and he spoke quietly. “Keep eating.”
At that, Shane felt a distinct pang in his abdomen. He knew this feeling. He’d felt it a million times before with Ilya. It wasn’t discomfort, it wasn’t distaste. It was arousal. Hot, titillating pleasure that coursed through him. He whined and obeyed Ilya’s order, bringing the last bite of the pizza to his lips. All that was left was the crust. He ate it in two bites as Ilya lewdly licked and sucked at his neck and collar bones.
“You want more?” Ilya said breathlessly.
“I want more,” Shane said, not thinking twice. All he wanted was to please Ilya. And maybe he also really did want more. All he had eaten was salad.
Ilya leaned over and grabbed a larger piece of pizza and instead of handing it to Shane he held it to his lips. “Eat,” he instructed. “You look so beautiful when you eat for me.” His free hand snaked into Shane’s shirt and smoothed over his stomach. Shane obeyed, tipping his head forward to take a bite.
“You like it?” Ilya asked and Shane paused, contemplating the question. Was Ilya referring to the pizza or being fed? Shane realized a moment later that the answer to both was the same.
“Yes,” he said. He could hardly think.
Ilya hummed contentedly. “Good boy,” he purred, bringing his hand to cup Shane’s face. Shane melted. He opened his mouth and Ilya guided the pizza into his mouth again and again. As he chewed the final bite, he glanced down and noticed that Ilya was hard, just as he was. Ilya returned the look and smiled.
“You are hard.” The statement was almost a question.
“So are you, asshole,” Shane retorted.
“Yes, because this is hot,” Ilya said matter of factly. He had no shame. “I think you agree.” Ilya placed his hand over Shane’s hardened cock.
Shane felt his cheeks warm as he nodded. Ilya leaned over and grabbed another slice and handed it to Shane.
“Feed yourself,” Ilya said, pulling Shane’s eyes back toward him. “You can come when you finish this.”
Shane’s eyes widened. Ilya just leaned down to kiss his neck once more. Shane couldn’t find it within himself to say no. He wanted this—this weird thing that they were doing. He began eating. The angle was weird with Ilya’s head burrowed into his neck, sloppily kissing his throat. His hands pushed into Shane’s shirt to push it up his torso, bunching up under his armpits. Ilya moaned as he went to work on Shane’s chest. Squeezing one pec while he sucked at the other, licking Shane’s sensitive nipple.
Shane was overstimulated. He forgot about his shame altogether as he ate another bite and watched Ilya. God, this was so weird. He took another bite. Ilya’s hand trailed down and gripped his thigh. He planted wet kisses down Shane’s stomach, lingering on his lower belly, teasing his dick with his chin through Shane’s shorts. Shane whined.
“Up,” Ilya ordered.
Shane lifted his hips and let Ilya pull his shorts down. Exposed, Shane’s eyes fluttered shut. Ilya took him into his mouth and Shane gasped. The wet, hot sensation of Ilya’s mouth was overwhelming in the best way possible. He remembered that he needed to finish his food and took another bite, watching Ilya as he did so. The man was hard at work, bobbing up and down on his cock, his hands exploring over Shane’s torso.
Shane only had about two bites left before the crust. He needed to eat fast or else he’d come too soon. He ate both bites in quick succession, his mouth full of food, almost too much to chew. God, he was close. He chewed and swallowed before downing the crust in two bites. Then, he brought both hands to Ilya’s hair. The man glanced up, seemingly checking that Shane had earned his release. Ilya groaned around his dick and gripped him harder, sucked him harder. Shane writhed in pleasure.
“Fuck, Ilya. I’m so full,” Shane said. The sensation of fullness and arousal at once was dizzying—something new. Something strangely exciting. Ilya grunted, aroused. He sucked harder and faster. “I’m coming, Ilya. Fuck.”
His release was dramatic and blinding. He wasn’t sure how loud he had been but it didn’t matter. No one else was here. Just them. He felt Ilya’s hand on his stomach. He looked down and found the man releasing his dick from his mouth. Shane’s head fell back again.
“Fuck,” he said again.
“You never disappoint, Hollander,” Ilya said with a smile, making Shane laugh lightly. Ilya rose from the ground where he had been on his knees. He wiped his mouth and plopped down next to Shane who was still catching his breath. Shane’s head lulled to the side and landed on Ilya’s shoulder. He felt Ilya kiss his hair.
They sat in silence for a few moments. Shane wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t feeling awkward because it had been a weird thing to do. He felt awkward because he had enjoyed that weird thing. He enjoyed it a lot.
“Sorry to ruin your diet,” Ilya said into his hair. Shane chuckled.
“No, you’re not,” he said.
“Did you like it? I mean, breaking your rules?” Ilya asked. His tone was a mix of genuine curiosity and suggestion.
“I mean, yes,” Shane said. He couldn’t look Ilya in the eyes. “But we can’t do this all the time. I have to maintain my weight.”
“You would not look so bad with a belly,” Ilya said, placing his hand on Shane’s abdomen. His abs weren’t as chiseled as they had once been.
“Ilya,” Shane warned. But he felt his cheeks burn with a strange mix of embarrassment and shyness. Ilya wanted him plumped up. Shane had doubts over the years about whether Ilya would still be attracted to him if he gained weight. The voices in his head had told him yes, but logically, he knew that couldn’t be true. Ilya wasn’t so shallow. But Shane realized now that Ilya wouldn’t just be okay with Shane gaining weight, he might actually like it. Then a terrifying thought hit him.
“Do you not like my body?” He blurted the words out before he could even process them.
“No,” Ilya said immediately. “That is not what I meant. Shane, you are the only one I want. I have always loved your body.” Ilya kissed his cheek and Shane gave a weak smile. “I don’t like seeing you restrict yourself. Now that you are close to retiring, I want you to enjoy yourself. Eat what you want. I want us to eat together—the same meals. I want to cook for us.” Ilya petted his head.
“What if I get fat?” Shane asked flatly.
“You are asking if I would be upset if I had more of you?”
Shane chuckled and let Ilya drape an arm around him, pulling him closer. Shane melted into his side. He felt loved. Sitting there, he thought about Ilya’s words. It wasn’t the first time that Ilya had encouraged him to indulge. He’d done it before at Ilya’s prodding, though not as intensely as he had tonight. He knew that Ilya cared. His words had hit differently tonight. Now that you are close to retiring, I want you to enjoy yourself. He thought of all of the team dinners he had sat out on over the years, all of the desserts he hadn’t let himself enjoy, the delicious family dinners he hadn’t let himself get second helpings of. This was going to be his last season of playing professional hockey. The thought of worrying about a diet rather than basking in the fun of it all suddenly hit him, plus he was curious to explore more of what they had done tonight.
“I’ll drop the diet,” Shane said. He couldn’t see Ilya’s reaction.
“After season?” Ilya asked.
“Now, I think,” Shane said, surprising himself.
“Are you sure? I do not want you to stop just because of me,” Ilya said.
“Yes, I think I’m sure,” Shane said.
“Well then,” Ilya said with a huff. “What do you want for dinner tomorrow? I will cook.”
Shane smiled. Ilya sucked at cooking.
“Surprise me.”