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Ilya Rozanov was in love with Shane Hollander. That was clear for anyone to see. He had loved Shane when they were seventeen and meeting for the first time in Saskatchewan, and he loved Shane now as his husband. The first time they met, Ilya recalled how his chest tightened at the sight of that pretty Japanese boy with freckles reaching out to shake hands with his soon to be rival. Some decade or so later, that boy would finally become his to hold whenever he pleased. When they shook hands for the first time, Ilya suddenly became embarrassed to be caught smoking alone outside the ice rink. He had given up smoking the day Shane told Ilya he loved him. He wanted to kiss Shane for the rest of his life and never again taint his perfect lips with the toxic taste of tobacco. Smoking reminded him of his father, of Russia, of what he had chosen to leave behind.

He had spent the last fifteen years admiring Shane Hollander, star Canadian hockey player, from the sideline. Through stolen glances on the benches at season games, to performative handshakes at hockey awards nights and charity events, to shy confessions in the comfort of Shane’s secluded lakeside cottage in the summer. Now they were husbands, Ilya Rozanov didn’t need to hide his affections any longer. Never again would he be forced to endure another lecture from Hayden Pike, warning him to stop looking at the man he loved with ‘heart eyes’ or people might start to notice. He was able to stop pretending he wasn’t blushing each time Cliff Marleau teased him for texting ‘Jane’ before a hockey game. And he certainly didn’t need to look away from his husband leaning against the kitchen bench, allowing his gaze to drop to the tight black gym shorts that clung to his muscled thighs and toned ass. Ilya had no doubt that the clothing brand was one of Shane’s many sponsorships - Yuna Hollander would have made sure of it. Besides, they fit him perfectly, they were probably hand sewn for the star athlete. For the first clothing sponsorship his mother in law secured for him, Ilya’s name and jersey number had been carefully stitched into every pair of shorts, jeans and pants he was contractually obligated to wear. Shane turned to face the windows, enjoying the sun on his tanned face as he continued to speak on the phone with who Ilya assumed to be Hayden. With this new view Ilya could see his shorts better and he was right - stitched into the back pocket was Shane’s last name and jersey number. Hollander-Rozanov #24. 

Hayden and Shane talked on the phone more than Svetlana and Ilya did, which wouldn’t have been a problem, if they didn’t live less than an hour away from each other. Ilya didn’t understand why Hayden didn’t just come over to talk instead of ringing constantly. Pike was lazy, just like his game playing style. Ilya made a mental note to keep that insult tucked away for the next time he needed one. As Shane continued to chat on the phone, Ilya stood from his favourite spot on the couch, quietly stepping towards his husband who had his back to him. The two of them had made love on nearly every surface in the house they built together. But this spot was Ilya’s favourite. Shane, bent over the kitchen bench, next to the wide open windows that spewed warm sunlight onto the brown wooden floors. When they had drawn up the blueprints, Ilya insisted that their living room be modelled off the cottage where they had spent all their summers together. Their safe haven. Here, Ilya could show off the man he loved and he didn’t care who saw through the windows. He didn’t care if the entire street heard Shane’s sweet moans as Ilya fucked into him. Shane was his and everyone should know it. They would never have to hide their relationship again.

Ilya snaked his arms around Shane’s waist, pressing his torso against his back. Shane responded with a happy moan, mentioning that Ilya said ‘hello’ to Hayden on the phone.

“Liar,” Ilya mumbled against Shane’s shirt. He wished Shane didn’t have a shirt on at all.

“Hayden says hello back,” Shane turned to face Ilya, letting him nuzzle his chin into his warm neck. Ilya heard a muffled ‘liar’ through the phone speaker from Pike and couldn’t help but smile. Sometimes Shane wondered if Ilya and Hayden knew how similar they were. Or maybe they were just pretending they didn’t know. They were both so stubborn. Shane eventually said his goodbyes and hung up the phone with the promise to talk again soon. Ilya rewarded him with a small love bite on his collarbone, to which Shane shivered in anticipation.

“It’s Jackie’s birthday tomorrow, remember I told you last week?” Ilya inhaled deeply, basking in the familiar scent of musk and vanilla that he loved so much. It smelt like home. It made him feel safe. It smelt like Shane. When they had been playing on separate teams Ilya would steal one of Shane’s training jerseys, spray it with his cologne and sleep with it every night until the season ended. Now he got to wake up to that smell every morning and he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“Is too boring to remember,” he mumbled against the soft skin of Shane’s neck. Ilya trailed his tongue along the side of Shane’s chiseled jaw, down to his ear, catching the earlobe between his teeth where he gently bit down. A shaky exhale left Shane’s lips as he leaned into Ilya’s teasing.

“I could think of better ways we could spend our Saturday evening,” Ilya growled into Shane’s ear kissing the bite mark he had just left. Goosebumps lined his husband’s flawless skin.

“You like Jackie,” Shane scoffed, letting Ilya make a mess of his neck. Shane didn’t need to pretend he didn’t like hickeys anymore. He was out, proudly, and in love with Ilya Rozanov. People knew they were together, due to Hayden’s little fan video mishap.The public outing, in some fucked up way, had been a relief to the couple after the initial shock. They had reclaimed their relationship, choosing to do a very public magazine shoot and interview after their honeymoon to announce the league's first ever couple. They had exposed Commissioner Crowell and told the world loud and clear that they, and other queer hockey players in the NHL, were not going anywhere. Following this ordeal, the NHL commissioner quit and was replaced with none other than Ryan Price, a retired Toronto Guardians player who also just happened to be married to world famous musician (and man) Fabian Salah. The NHL was making progress, slowly, but Shane and Ilya had noticed the difference. Players could be openly queer without fear of losing their careers. The homophobic insults so often thrown around became an offense, wherein referees who heard any derogatory language on the ice could give players a misconduct penalty and force them to sit on the bench for ten minutes.The NHL was hosting more fundraising nights than ever under the direction of Commissioner Price, many of them for queer youth charities that provided housing, mental health services and advocacy for young people that identified as LGBTQIA+. This had even included the Hollander-Rozanov Irina Foundation at this years’ All Star Game. The sport and culture were changing, and this helped Shane Hollander to let himself indulge in all the small pleasures he had been missing out on over the last decade. 

“I like all the Pikes, except for Hayden,” Ilya shrugged. Shane knew that wasn’t true but he didn’t say anything. Ilya pouted dramatically, resting his head on Shane’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his back in a hug. Shane knew Ilya wanted his hair played with, and there was nothing he liked more than making his husband smile. His hands found their way into Ilya’s golden locks gently scratching his head. Shane could have sworn he heard Ilya purr against him, like a cat receiving pats after their owner returned from a long day at work.

“You know it’s a costume party Ilya,” he teased, kissing his lover’s forehead. Ilya’s head whipped upwards to look at Shane, with the smirk his husband had grown accustomed to over the years. The same smirk that made Shane’s stomach fill with butterflies every goddamn time.

“Costume party?” He confirmed. Shane nodded, trying not to smile at how excited Ilya had become.

“Da, okay Hollander. I will come if I can pick your costume.” Shane took a second to consider Ilya’s offer. Who knows what slutty costume he would pick to dress him in this time. As a compromise, maybe Shane could convince Ilya to wear his gladiator costume again. He watched Ilya bounce up and down excitedly waiting for an answer. Shane pulled him in by the waist, placing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he teased, mimicking Ilya’s Russian accent. It was a phrase Ilya said to him often, usually in Russian. Shane’s cock twitched excitedly watching Ilya’s gaze shift to something more sultry, his eyebrows raising in curiosity. Shane had initiated what he wanted and he knew Ilya would indulge him. Ilya slowly dropped to his knees, looking up at Shane as his large thighs relaxed against the floor. Ilya had grown to love these moments - when Shane started something that Ilya would get to finish. It turned him on more than he’d care to admit. Ilya Rozanov liked to be in control, but he liked when Shane felt confident enough to initiate sex even more. Ilya gently tugged at the hem of the shorts he had been admiring earlier, and couldn’t help but smile when he pulled them down and was met with Shane’s growing erection. Shane gripped the kitchen bench he was leaning against, his knuckles turning a light shade of white.

“I can be very nice,” Ilya teased, placing a quick kiss against the tip of Shane’s cock. Ilya watched his face turn a cute shade of pink. The very shade that made the freckles that littered his cheeks stand out. Ilya loved when Shane blushed - on the ice after chasing a goal, and now with his husband’s cock in his hand. Shane looked the same on the ice as he did during sex. Flustered, freckles prominent and hair a mess. It was very distracting for Ilya when he was supposed to be focusing on winning the game, but here on his knees, he was allowed to indulge.

Ilya licked up the side of Shane’s shaft slowly, teasing him. Shane shivered beneath him. He was so reactive to Ilya’s touches. How lucky Ilya Rozanov felt in moments like these. Despite all the odds, Ilya had ended up marrying Canada’s best hockey player, the only person he had ever truly loved. Ilya gently took the tip of Shane’s cock into his warm mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive tip without breaking eye contact. Ilya planned to tease Shane until his head fell back and he moaned Ilya’s name. Then, and only then, would Ilya take him into his mouth fully and give Shane exactly what he wanted. His hand reached up to cup Shane’s balls as his tongue licked up the other side of his hard cock. Shane's hand dropped to Ilya’s head, his fingers becoming entangled in the mess of blonde curls. He never pushed himself into Ilya. He was too good, too obedient. Shane would always let Ilya lead, even with Ilya on his knees beneath him. Ilya needed his husband to ask for what he wanted. To be confident in expressing his needs, his desires, his sexuality and this, he had found, was the best way to practice that. Ilya placed another teasing kiss on Shane’s inner thigh, still fondling his balls.

“Ilya-“ Shane gripped his hair harder, looking down at his lover with pleading eyes. Ilya waited patiently, smiling against his skin as he continued to kiss the area that made Shane weak in the knees. Shane knew exactly what he had to say if he wanted Ilya to make him cum.

“My pretty boy,” Ilya purred, running his thumb over the slick precum dripping from the head of Shane’s dick. Shane’s hand rested against Ilya’s cheek, slowly running his finger against Ilya’s plump bottom lip. Ilya parted his lips for Shane’s finger to enter, which he did so dutifully, pressing it against his tongue. Ilya’s lips closed around Shane’s fingers, moaning as Shane only pushed them deeper down Ilya’s throat. Shane couldn’t help but admire how beautiful Ilya was, watching how his pouted lips sucked him in willingly, so warm and inviting, without ever gagging.

“Please,” Shane whispered. “Ya tebya khochu.” After years of begging, Ilya had eventually given in to Shane’s pleas and taught him to speak Russian - to which Shane seemed to perfect in less than a year. Ilya was not expecting anything less, his husband was a perfectionist after all. Shane could already speak English and French perfectly, meanwhile Ilya still struggled with English when he was sleepy or too lazy to go through the mental gymnastics required to form complete sentences. Ilya only taught him useful Russian phrases, of course. And this was his favourite one. I want you. Ilya pulled off Shane’s thumb and quickly replaced it with his cock. Shane never lasted long when Ilya made him beg for it. Ilya suspected Shane liked being teased even more than he liked having orgasms. Within minutes, Shane’s thighs were trembling and the grip at the base of Ilya’s skull was growing tighter. Ilya loved having his hair pulled during sex, the sting always made his dick throb harder. He moaned involuntarily around Shane, who in response bucked his hips and pushed his cock further down Ilya’s throat.

“Fuck Ilya-,” the vibrations sent Shane over the edge. He held Ilya’s head in place, depositing his load down his husband’s throat and letting him swallow before pulling out.

“Was that nice enough for you?” Ilya laughed, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He reached up to squeeze Shane’s chest playfully, and Shane only rolled his eyes, pulling his shorts back over his hips. Ilya pouted watching his favourite toy be put away. He loved the way Shane tasted, and he already had a plan for tomorrow’s party that would result in him getting to give Shane another blow job.

“Yes, you can dress me up tomorrow. We will need to go to the costume store,” Shane sighed, offering his hand to help pull Rozanov up off his knees. Shane pretended to be annoyed by this but after receiving head from the man he loved, he felt like doing anything to please Ilya. Even if that meant letting his husband dress him up like a doll for one night. It would make Ilya happy, and that would make Shane happy. 

“Ah. Give me a minute Hollander," Ilya laughed readjusting himself. Shane looked down at the protrusion in Ilya’s shorts, feeling the blood rush to his own dick again in excitement.

“You want?” Shane was already pulling his long hair into a bun with the hair band that lived permanently on his wrist. He had let it grow far too long over the season and was in desperate need of a haircut. The day he finally booked an appointment, Ilya had stolen his phone and cancelled the haircut without telling him. Shane had looked like an idiot walking into the salon and asking for the appointment he kept insisting he had booked. Of course by the time he worked out what Ilya had done and drove home, Ilya was doubled over laughing on the couch as he walked through the front door. After a small scolding from Shane, Ilya proceeded to fuck his mouth and prove to him the sexual benefits of having long hair. After that night, Shane decided to keep it long.

“Nyet my love, later,” He gave Shane a soft, reassuring kiss. Sometimes Shane struggled with rejection, taking it too personally and thinking it was a reflection on his skills, or looks, or whatever else was worrying him that week. He had started seeing a therapist after Ilya’s insistence that Dr. Rozanova had made him happier. Shane had seen the emotional changes in his partner. His depressive episodes had lessened in both severity and duration. Some days, Ilya still struggled to get out of bed or cried so hard he would give himself a migraine, but despite it all, life had improved for Ilya Rozanov. Over the last twelve months, Shane had discussed everything he had kept bottled up for years - mostly about his sexuality and how life had changed since coming out.

Week after week he made a promise to himself, and to Ilya, to show up and do the emotional labour therapy required. His therapist listened to him talk, without judgement, and gave him strategies to work through his anxiety. Fears over losing a career because of his sexuality, grieving the loss of never having his Montreal Metros jersey hang in the rafters, coming to terms with being outed before he was ready, whilst also wishing he had the courage to come out sooner, mourning all the years he wasted pretending he wasn’t in love with his biggest rival, gaining an autism diagnosis and now addressing the eating disorder and body image issues that Shane still struggled with. Shane was exhausted most days, but he could feel the therapy making a change in himself for the better. Their relationship was stronger than ever, both Ilya and Shane were the most confident and happy they had ever been. But some days, especially when Ilya rejected Shane’s sexual advances, thoughts about his body or anxious fears about losing his husband would creep into his brain and weigh him down. Ilya didn’t mind having to give Shane reassurance, he knew it was the key to a healthy relationship. Shane’s brain didn’t work the same way as his and that was perfectly okay with Ilya Rozanov. He loved Shane on good and bad days, just as Shane loved him on days he was so sad all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and return to his mother’s warm embrace. Ilya kissed every inch of Shane’s face until his teary eyes were replaced with childish laughter.

“I am so lucky to have you Shane Hollander-Rozanov. Ya lyublyu tyebya, solnyshka.” I love you, sunshine. Ilya gave his husband one final kiss on the lips.

“Ty maya lyubof’ na fsyu zhizn,” Shane whispered against his lips. Ilya smiled. You are my love forever. Truer words had never been spoken. Yes, so very lucky, Ilya thought to himself.

“Who taught you to say this?” He pushed a stray lock of hair out of Shane’s face, holding Shane’s warm cheek against his palm. 

“I must have learnt it in the New Yorker,” Shane quipped, closing his eyes to enjoy the hold on his face. 

“There is no New Yorker in Russia, my silly zajchik,” Shane scrunched his nose up at the foreign word. Ilya watched him tick over all the words he had been taught, trying to translate this one. He would get it in a week or so, he always did. Shane would probably wake Ilya up in the middle of the night once he figured it out. Shane shook the confusion off his face, changing the subject.

“Will you wear your gladiator costume again?” Shane asked, looking up at Ilya through his long dark lashes. Ilya wished he could paint the bedroom walls the same shade of dark brown as Shane’s irises. He had asked permission when they built the house but Shane had immediately said no. Ilya thought for a moment, watching his boyfriend flutter his lashes in a dramatic attempt to seduce him. Ilya did, after all, look incredible in that outfit but he had other plans for a matching couples costume.

“I will be wearing nothing,” Ilya shrugged, keeping his voice steady. Shane looked at him with a jealous expression, the joke flying right over his head.

“To the costume party?” His furrowed brow returned.

“To the after party,” Ilya leaned in and whispered playfully. Shane, finally catching on, only rolled his eyes and moved towards the front door.

“You are leaving because of one joke?” Ilya scoffed. Shane jingled his car keys in the air in response, and Ilya came running like a puppy to his husband’s passenger car door. Ilya knew exactly which costume he was going to dress Shane in.

"You are having panic attack Shane, take a deep breath," Ilya attempted to soothe his anxious husband who was repeatedly tugging at the hem of the dress he was wearing in an effort to make it longer. Ilya had deliberately purchased a size too small, but Shane didn't need to know that.

"Is okay, I already checked with Jackie and Hayden is wearing a dress too. I would not embarrass you in front of everyone my love," he assured. Ilya sat watching his nervous husband from the chair that had a permanent spot next to their king sized bed. Sometimes when Ilya was feeling nostalgic, he would sit on this very chair and make Shane strip for him. Make his husband bend over the edge of their bed, spread his legs, push his head into the pillow and fuck himself with whatever toy Ilya saw fit. They had, after all these years, built up quite the impressive sex toy collection. But tonight there was nothing Ilya Rozanov wanted more than to fuck his pretty boyfriend who was wearing a slutty nun costume. 

"I can't wear this!" Shane exclaimed, turning to check his behind in the mirror. If he bent over everyone would see his perfectly sculpted ass, and that is just how Ilya wanted it. Ilya was dressed as an angel. He insisted he didn't need a costume because everyone already knew he was one, but Shane had ignored him and thrown the costume into the basket at the checkout. He was wearing a lace tank top that exposed his recent silver nipple piercings, a pleated white mini skirt, his battered old Dr. Martens and a pair of feathered white wings to complete the fit. Ilya wished Rose or Svetlana were here to help with some makeup, he imagined white eyeliner or mascara would make this look even better. Maybe some glitter too. 

"Mmm I disagree," Ilya smirked, taking another sip of his favourite iced vodka. The only thing Ilya missed about Russia was the alcohol. Canada did not know how to make decent vodka, and now he was a citizen, he had to pretend to like Canadian whiskey. It was disgusting. 

"Isn't this blasphemy or something? Wearing a slutty nun costume," Shane had his signature anxious look plastered on his face. Ilya was pretty certain he knew what that word meant - blasphemy. He would make sure to look it up later when he was finished with pleasuring Shane. Ilya didn't believe in God, and he certainly didn't believe in heaven or hell. On the rare occasion he read the hate comments on his Instagram posts, he couldn't help but notice they usually involved telling the couple how they were going to hell for being gay. If God was real, how could he send his perfect, sweet husband who had never hurt anyone to a place so awful, just for loving a man? It didn't make sense and so Ilya concluded, He must not be real. His parents raised him to be Orthodox Christian but once his mother died Ilya never stepped foot in a church again. He wore his mother's crucifix because it reminded him of her, not because he believed in what it stood for. And he had sinned a thousand times wearing it. 

"Do you want to wear my necklace to match?" Ilya teased rubbing the cool metal between his fingers. Despite all the years that separated him and his mother's funeral, he still felt his heart skip a beat every time he looked at the necklace. The same necklace his husband often pulled into his mouth when it dangled in front of him, to suck on, while Ilya was inside of him. 

"Whatever Rozanov, let's just get this over with," Shane sighed, sitting on the bed. He only called Ilya by his last name when he was frustrated. Ilya didn't mind, it was half of Shane's last name too. Shane stood up, flattening the dress out, and turned to leave the bedroom. Ilya sat up from his chair, quickly grabbing his waist and pulling him onto his lap. Shane could feel Ilya's erection against his ass. 

"Not yet," Ilya purred, his hand reaching around to place a gentle grip on Shane's neck. Shane involuntarily grinded down onto Ilya's lap, he loved when Ilya took control like this. Ilya's strong hand turned Shane’s face towards him, kissing him hungrily. Shane moaned around Ilya's tongue, parting his lips to let Ilya taste him. Ilya was desperate. After watching Shane get ready, all he wanted to do was bend his husband over, watch the tight dress roll up his strong thighs, and pound him into the mattress of their shared bed, giving him orgasm after orgasm until Shane begged him to stop. But Ilya would have to wait until they got home tonight. He let go of Shane's neck, receiving a whiny, disappointed moan in response. 

"You taste like vodka," Shane muttered, returning to his grumpy stature. Ilya lifted the cool glass to Shane’s lips, letting him take a long sip. Shane coughed at the liquor's strength as Ilya guided him to take a second sip. 

"Good boy. I like the flush you get after drinking," Ilya whispered. He rubbed the cold glass teasingly along Shane's chest, over his sensitive nipples, hoping it would make him grind against his aching dick again. Shane gasped at the coolness, pushing into Ilya's warm body harder. "Is very pretty on you, makes your freckles stand out." Shane opened his mouth silently requesting another sip of vodka for the compliment, which Ilya happily agreed to. 

"There is gift bag next to the bed," Ilya placed the empty glass on the liquor cabinet. That was enough drinking for now. He wanted to have a long, fun night with Shane and needed to be patient. 

"For Jackie?" Shane questioned, bending over to retrieve the black gift bag with a neat lace bow keeping it closed. Ilya laughed, which surprised Shane. What was so funny about Jackie's birthday gift? 

"Ah no, besides I think Hayden is too boring to use a gift like this on his wife." Shane fiddled with the ribbon for a moment and opened the bag. Inside were two small black glittery gift boxes that made his stomach churn. 

"Do I want to know what is in this box?" Shane sighed. 

"Da, you will love. I know what you like Shane," Ilya smiled, moving to sit next to Shane on the end of their bed. Inside the first box, Shane found a pair of lacey black panties that looked far too small to be a men's size and with nothing but a string for the backside. He swallowed nervously. Shane and Ilya had been having more open and honest conversations about exploring new kinks recently. Ilya had been the one to suggest dressing Shane up in lingerie, just like the ones Shane was holding in his hands now. Shane had asked if they could try something more risky. He wanted to reclaim all the stolen kisses and late night motel nights the couple had been forced to have over the last decade. He wanted to kiss Ilya in public, and be fucked by Ilya in a public bathroom (a clean one of course), or outside or feel Ilya's hands grope him under the table at dinner with his friends. This had excited Ilya, who had been asking to fuck Shane in his car after a game or in the locker room for years. Therefore, it wasn't a total shock to Shane when he opened the second gift box to find a purple plug paired with a matching remote. Shane held the toy, rubbing his thumb over the smooth silicon, as Ilya gently kissed his neck. 

“I will help you,” Shane shivered, both nervous and excited to hear what Ilya had planned. It was fun to fantasise but Shane wasn’t sure if he could do it. There was no way he could walk around in panties with a plug inside of him all night and not become a babbling, begging mess in front of his teammates. 

“I- ah- I can’t wear these under this dress, it’s too short. And I am definitely not having this inside of me, I’ll be rock hard all night.” Shane pretended to hate the idea but he was possibly more turned on than he had been yesterday morning when Ilya dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor. Ilya swiftly hauled Shane onto his lap again, this time facing him. He held his chin in his hand, forcing Shane to make eye contact as he spoke slowly and deliberately. 

“My pretty boy will wear these,” he held the lace underwear up admiring how intricate the lace pattern was. Ilya wondered how easy it would be to rip them in half. “And you will put this toy inside of you, and I will use this remote to tease you all night.” Shane struggled to maintain eye contact. He was already feeling flustered and watching Ilya’s playful expression was not helping. His excited lopsided smile made Shane’s heart beat even harder, if that was somehow possible. 

“Look at me Shane,” Shane’s eyes fluttered back up to meet Ilya’s. Shane had decorated their apartment to match the golden flecks in Ilya’s hazel eyes. Their kitchen benches were made of marble with the same colours running like a river through the stone slab, the lamps on their bed side tables had shiny brass basses and pale toned yellow lampshades, the blankets, the pillows, everything was him. Ilya was everywhere. Just as Shane wanted. Ilya had once asked to paint the walls the colour of Shane’s eyes, to which Shane refused profusely, claiming it was a stupid idea, but secretly enjoying that his husband was just as obsessed with him as he was with Ilya. 

“And when you cannot take it anymore, you will tell me. I will drive you home and fuck you in this pretty costume, and reward you for being such a good boy for me.” Shane wanted to be fucked now. His boyfriend was making his wildest fantasies come true and his dick had never been so hard. Fuck the party. He could come up with an excuse and apologize to Jackie later.

“Yes?” Ilya asked for verbal consent. Shane knew he needed to use his words. If he was smart, he would’ve said no and saved himself a night of painful erections and embarrassment. But he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He wanted this. 

“Da ser,” Ilya hungrily tasted Shane’s mouth again, his tongue parting his lips. Shane’s arms wrapped around Ilya’s neck bringing their bodies closer, his naked bottom grinding pathetically against Ilya’s exposed thigh. 

“Ilya,” Shane whimpered as Ilya’s large hand grazed up his inner thigh, lightly teasing his rigid cock. Ilya lifted Shane, too engrossed in their kiss to break away, resting him on the bead beneath them. Ilya was amazed at how perfectly the costume fit his husband, the thin fabric clinging to every muscle, every curve. He looked so pretty and it was all for Ilya. 

“Ty ves’ moy,” Ilya bit down playfully on Shane’s lip pulling it between his teeth. You are all mine. Shane could only whine in response as Ilya pushed his thighs up to his chest, holding them in place, letting the dress ride up Shane’s thighs and exposing his most sensitive area. 

“Ty-” he placed a kiss on the space where Shane’s thigh ended and his ass started. Shane had the clearest skin. There wasn’t a single freckle or mole to be found on his glowing, tanned body. Except for his face. Ilya traced the stretch marks that lined Shane’s hips and ass with his index finger; it was possibly his most favourite thing about his husband. They were so beautiful. He was so beautiful. 

“Ves-’” he continued, kissing the other side in the exact same space. Shane whined, becoming impatient with Ilya’s teasing. This is how Ilya liked him. Subby, needy, too turned on to form words. Ilya loved the way he grinded against him, bucking his hips forward in an effort to be touched, and whimpering softly when he didn’t get what he wanted. Shane was the perfect husband, Ilya’s pretty slutty boy, and only his. 

He often felt possessive of his husband. The most successful man in the NHL, the prettiest man Ilya had ever laid eyes on and the most oblivious person when it came to flirting. Autistic Shane wasn’t the best at recognising social cues, especially flirting. But at every hockey presentation night, every boring house party, and every club night the two went to, there were always plenty of men and women who tried to flirt with him. Ilya would come behind him, grab Shane’s face and kiss him so hard the person would walk away, then take his husband to the bathroom to claim what was his. Despite all these years, some days Ilya couldn’t believe Shane had picked him, and he always took the opportunity, when it presented itself, to remind Shane how much he loved him. Especially when people tried to flirt with what was his. People knew they were married, it was everywhere in the news. However, the ring didn’t seem to deter some people from trying, despite Ilya’s reputation for being a trash talking asshole who loved a fight both on and off the ice. For Shane’s birthday they had gone clubbing with a small group of trusted friends. Miles had been grinding against Shane a little too close for Ilya’s liking and Svetlana had to pull him aside and remind him to be reasonable. 

Ilya’s hands moved to spread open Shane. Such a perfect sight. “Moy,” he finished, finally indulging in what he’d been thinking about all day. Shane could listen to Ilya whisper sweet nothings in Russian until he went deaf. Ilya’s tongue ran teasing circles around his entrance as Shane’s entire body tensed in anticipation. After teasing him for what felt like eternity, Ilya gently pushed his tongue inside of Shane, tasting him slowly. Like a reflex that was coded into his DNA, the moment Ilya touched Shane, his head fell back and a shy “Ilyushen’ka” slipped from his lips. It only motivated Ilya to please him more. When they were younger he used to fantasise at nights by himself. He would let his secret lover's first name drop off his tongue like a secret prayer as he played with himself. He would close his eyes, hand tight around the base of his cock, and imagine Shane moaning it back. The first time it happened in person had been an accident. Ilya had let it happen so often in secret, in the comfort of his own bed, that it had slipped from his mouth the moment Shane crawled onto his lap. He thought that night was the end of everything. He thanked whatever God there was every night (on the off chance there was one) that it wasn’t. Ilya Rozanov spent the rest of his life proving to Shane Hollander that he was his saviour. Carving out hymns against his smooth skin with his tongue until Shane moaned the answers to his prayers. Ilya, Ilya, Ilya. 

Ilya reached for the bottle of lube that lived in the dresser at the end of the bed. Shane leant into the soft mattress, breathing heavily and desperate for more. Ilya wasted no time slicking his fingers and returning to his spot between Shane’s thighs. 

“Shane, look at me,” he whispered, bending over and placing a gentle kiss on his chest. Shane obeyed, opened his eyes slowly, and the moment their eyes met, Ilya pushed a finger inside of him. He loved watching his husband come undone just for him. Shane’s hand reached up to grasp Ilya’s bicep. He was so tight, Ilya could tell he was nervous about the party. 

“Lyubimiy, it will feel good. I promise. If you don’t like it, we'll take it out, okay?” Shane nodded offering a grateful smile. He relaxed enough for Ilya to enter with a second finger. Shane’s head fell back exhaling at the familiar feeling of being stretched out. He loved being filled. He loved Ilya taking control. When he told Shane what to do, it was one of the only times in his life that Shane felt truly at peace. His head was empty, anxiety gone and all he wanted to do was feel good - to be loved by his husband and make him feel loved in return. He needed someone to guide him and Ilya was his salvation. Ilya gently pulled out once Shane's moan began to quicken. He didn’t want him to finish yet, not until tonight. He reached for the toy. 

“Ready?” He slipped his free hand under Shane’s. Their fingers intertwined in the bedsheets, hand in hand, ring touching ring. Shane was dizzy with excitement. It was hard to form a coherent thought when his husband, dressed in an angel costume, was standing above him and teasing his ass. 

“Shane-“ Ilya sang, tapping his cheek lightly to help ground him back into the moment. 

“Fuck, please. Yes. Bolshe Ilya,” Shane corrected before Ilya could remind him to use his words. Ilya rewarded Shane’s enthusiasm with a rough bite to his nipple and gently pushed the plug inside of him.

“Is okay?” Ilya asked softly, noticing the way Shane’s nose scrunched up as he adjusted to the toy. 

“Mhm feels good,” Shane smiled reassuringly. It wasn’t as good as Ilya of course, but it still felt nice. Ilya, satisfied that Shane was comfortable, reached for the discarded remote that came with the toy. He had made sure it was charged before he gift wrapped it. He didn’t want to waste time finding batteries when he could be using that time to tease his husband into a whimpering, begging mess. Ilya leant on his knees, towering over Shane. He wanted a good view for when he pressed the button. 

“I’m not sure how strong the vibration is,” Ilya trailed off clicking the button twice. Shane’s chest immediately arched up as the toy buzzed to life inside of him. Shane gripped Ilya’s hand so hard Ilya winced. Shane was desperate to reach down and stroke his cock. He wanted to show Ilya how much this turned him on but he stopped himself. 

“Ahh I won’t last all night if you don’t turn that off,” Shane whimpered, his other arm falling over his eyes as he desperately tried not to make a mess all over his freshly cleaned bed sheets. Ilya laughed, turning it off. He didn’t want Shane to finish. Not yet. Shane whimpered at the loss of stimulation, lifting his hips to allow Ilya to pull the panties up over his erection. Ilya offered him a quick kiss and held out his hands. Shane took them, using Ilya’s strength to pull himself up off the bed. The toy was hitting all the right places and Shane wondered how he was going to be able to walk, let alone speak to his friends, without moaning. Let alone if Ilya turned it on while they were out. Shane pulled the nun costume down over his exposed ass. 

“If I bend over, the whole party is going to see I am wearing lace panties,” he grimaced. 

“Pike should be so lucky. Maybe they will see how hard you are for me, how my baby loves to be played with in public,” Ilya’s muffled voice shouted back over the sound of rustling in their walk-in closet. 

“Asshole,” Shane muttered, embarrassed at the truth. Ilya raised his eyebrow as he came out of the closet but didn’t retaliate at Shane’s name calling. He held out another gift bag, this one gold and sparkly. Shane looked confused, surely this was not another kinky gift he was going to regret opening. 

“Is for Jackie. I would not let us go without a present,” Ilya shrugged, fixing up a loose curl that had fallen out of place in the mirror on the wall. Ilya had made sure to install one directly across from their bed. He loved fucking Shane in front of it, holding his chin up, and making his husband watch how pretty he looked while being filled. Shane never lasted long when Ilya did this. Ilya would make him sit on his knees, back to Ilya’s chest as Ilya edged his cock for what felt like hours. Until Shane was trembling and crying and begging to cum. Then Ilya would make him watch in the mirror as he finally got his release. 

“It’s not a set of divorce papers is it?” Shane joked but part of him didn’t put it past Ilya to pull a prank like that. Ilya laughed unexpectedly. 

“And people say you are not funny,” Shane frowned, knowing the only person who said that was his own husband. “No krasotka, I got her earrings. Very expensive ones. Rose helped me pick it actually.” Shane didn’t know what that word meant. Krasotka. He would make sure to look it up when they were home. He loved learning Russian, it made him feel closer to Ilya. 

“You asked Rose for help?” Shane asked curiously. 

“Mhm,” Ilya affirmed, beginning to leave the room. “Svetlana is in Russia with her father, she seemed like next best option. Mama Yuna was busy in meetings with new sponsor-” Shane’s thoughts trailed off. It was rare for Ilya to spend time alone with Rose. The four of them, after many years, had become friends. They got together for drinks at the Hollander-Rozanov household as often as they could. Between Rose’s filming schedule, Ilya and Shane playing away games and Svetlana travelling between Russia and Canada - it was not as often as they would like. Shane had been jealous of Svetlana for a long time. The woman his husband had pondered marrying on more than one occasion. Ilya promised he would stop seeing Svetlana if that is what it took for Shane to be more comfortable, but Shane did not have the heart to ask so much of his husband. His jealousy and insecurity did not justify cutting Ilya off from his one contact with his niece, to his past life, and his best friend. 

Besides, Ilya had introduced Svetlana to Cliff Marleau at one of his many birthday celebrations and they had been an item ever since. Marleau seemed to have a thing for Russians and unbeknownst to Shane, the pair had met on several occasions, often in a hotel room with Ilya, back in their youth. Before their wedding, when they had a game in Manhattan, Svetlana had invited Shane, and only Shane, out for drinks at the Kingfisher bar. They had a signature cocktail made with ginger ale that Shane couldn’t help but enjoy. Svetlana in all her modesty, had announced she wanted to be friends and that she was happy for Ilya. Shane had learnt about Russia, about Alexei, about Grigori’s funeral and about how Svetlana had known for years that Ilya was in love with no one but a man named Jane. 

“The night of his father’s funeral he picked you. He didn’t even hesitate. He told Alexei he was done, set up a trust fund for his niece, called you to confess his love and left his house keys next to his father’s medals.” Shane had cried recalling the Russian monologue Ilya had given him over the phone as he sat in the stairwell all those years ago, wishing he could translate what was being said. He had definitely drunk too many ginger ale cocktails, but Svetlana didn’t mind, hugging him and promising she was so happy for them. That Ilya and Shane were vtoraya polovinka. Soulmates. Shane had offered her a tipsy apology. “For what Shane? Finding love? Ilya and I loved each other but not in the same way. It was familiar, nostalgic. He is my best friend and I haven’t seen him as anything more in a long time.” Svetlana and Shane had been friends ever since. 

“You could’ve asked me for help, I’ve known Jackie a long time.” Shane grabbed his car keys racing Ilya down the stairs. He won - as always. 

“What do you know about jewellery?” Ilya scoffed, smacking Shane’s ass when he reached the bottom of the stairs. 

“Excuse me, I picked your wedding ring,” Shane huffed. 

“Do not be jealous I was spending time with Rose,” Ilya purred. “She is very pretty and rich and I thought she would be the best to ask,” Ilya shrugged knowing that word would make Shane jealous - Pretty. Sure enough Shane turned to look at him with that signature menacing look, jaw tightened, eyebrows creased. Giving Ilya exactly what he wanted. 

He opened his mouth to retaliate no doubt and Ilya pressed the button on the remote in his pocket. He watched his husband instantly turn into a shy mess before him. Clenching his thighs together and grabbing the doorframe. Ilya pushed Shane against the door, his hands desperately clinging to the tight dress and tongue slipping into Shane’s mouth. Shane’s head fell into his neck, as Ilya slipped his knee between Shane’s thighs, giving his neglected dick something to grind against.   

“But not as pretty as my needy boy in this dress,” Ilya kissed his neck until Shane’s breathing became uneven and desperate, then he turned the toy off. This was going to be a fun night for Ilya Rozanov. 

Shane was determined to last as long as he could without caving and asking Ilya to go home and fuck him. He knew Ilya wanted him to fold early and he wouldn’t. They were always competitive. On the ice, in the bedroom, even there in Hayden’s living room with a vibrator inside of him. Nothing had changed over the years. Jackie had loved the earrings and given them both a large hug. She swiftly whisked Ilya away for wine - a practiced ritual between them. They often met without Hayden and Shane to get wine drunk and gossip about their husbands. 

“Did Rozanov dress you?” Hayden teased handing Shane an opened beer. His stomach was full of good Russian vodka and he hated to ruin that with the taste of warm Canadian beer. He took the bottle unenthusiastically. Shane crossed his legs and suddenly became aware of how naked he felt. Even in the dimmed kitchen of Hayden’s house he felt overly exposed. Over the years being the owner of Shane’s spare house key, Hayden had caught him, often with Ilya, in much more precarious positions but that didn’t stop Shane’s stomach tightening in embarrassment at the comical nun costume he had been dressed in. 

“How can you tell?” He joked, taking a large sip of bitter beer to hide the blush that was definitely covering his face. “I’m assuming Jackie dressed you,” Shane teased back, noticing Hayden’s cheerleading costume. Hayden shook his prop pompom sarcastically before dropping it on the couch in front of them.

“Something tells me they might have conspired against us. Again.” Hayden shook his head watching Ilya and Jackie pour large glasses of wine that would make them tipsy within the hour. Ilya’s wide smile, a result from laughing with his friend, sent butterflies through Shane’s entire body. Ilya had changed in the last five years. Shane had seen him smile and laugh more than ever. He had friends and a family that loved him. He was captain of a team winning back to back Stanley Cups. He was in therapy. And he was planning a future with his husband that loved him more than anything. Shane was overcome with love for the man that seemed to outshine the sun in every room he entered. 

“Where are the kids tonight? I thought you would have a whole family costume or something.” Shane asked, turning his attention back to Hayden. 

“Jackie’s parents. We figured a room full of drunk hockey players was going to be hard enough without adding five kids into it.” Hayden took another sip. “Although I’m sure they would probably force everyone to watch a movie or something with them. Ilya wouldn’t be able to say no,” they laughed together now. Shane and Ilya often babysat for the Pikes, and sure enough, they had seen the same movies hundreds of times. Ilya always made them popcorn and cuddled with them on the couch, until he fell asleep first, usually followed by the kids. 

“Hollander!” JJ slurred bouncing over. He lifted his hands in disbelief at their dresses. “Keeping secrets? Why was I not invited to the dress party?” He said. JJ and Shane were not as close as they used to be, not after how he acted the last time Shane had played for Montreal, and no one hated him more than Ilya. But they stayed in touch, catching up occasionally. JJ had apologised profusely but that damage had been done in Shane’s heart. Coach Theriault was also fired by Ryan Price when he cracked down on homophobia and queer safety policies in the NHL. He was replaced by Hayden when he had to retire due to a career ending injury. The first thing Hayden Price planned to do when Shane Hollander retired was hang his #24 jersey in the rafters. It was what he deserved and Hayden was going to stay on as coach until it happened - especially after everything Shane did for that team, all the cups and awards he helped secure for his teammates. Hayden was enjoying coaching. It was much less pressure and pain than playing, and he was proud to be rebuilding the team he grew up with after a scandalous few years under Theriault. Hayden Pike replaced Shane’s vacant captaincy with a new up and coming queer player from McGill University and fired anyone that had a problem with it. He had even threatened to fire JJ.  

“Dress party?” Hayden questioned, pretending to be interested in what JJ had to say. 

“What you call when everyone is wearing the same thing…” JJ explained as if he was making complete sense. Hayden and Shane stared back at him with blank expressions. JJ threw his arms up, shocked his ex-team mates couldn’t understand him after all that time playing together. Shane couldn’t believe his English skills were still so bad after all those years. 

“Déguisement de groupe” he finally said, hitting Shane’s chest playfully, widening his eyes to encourage Shane to move past this embarrassing moment by translating for him. 

“Oh. Group costume,” Shane translated to Hayden who didn’t speak French despite Shane’s many attempts to teach him. Between JJ, Hayden and Ilya, sometimes Shane felt like a translator. 

“Yes, Hollander. Thank you. I would look pretty in a dress too!” he exclaimed, annoyed he had missed out on something. All he had done was miss out on Ilya being a menace, Shane wanted to tell him to shut up and be grateful Ilya hadn’t dressed him in women’s panties too. 

“Mhm I do not think so. Not as pretty as Hayden,” Ilya’s familiar accent announced, sneaking behind JJ. Ilya bumped the bottom of his wine glass against the neck of JJ’s beer which made it fizz up and make a mess over JJ’s white button up shirt. JJ groaned, pulling away the bottle a second too late to avoid being covered. 

“You are mean Rozanov,” JJ muttered, wiping his shirt with his hand. Ilya pushed between Hayden and Shane, slinging his arm around his husband. Ilya loved to fuck with JJ. He had been known to deliberately trip him on the ice, just so they could fight. Ilya was much bigger than JJ and always won. Ilya reached his hand into his pocket and pressed the button on the remote. Shane stiffened next to him as what he had been avoiding all night finally came to fruition.  

“Do you think I am mean, moya milaya shlyukha?” Shane almost choked on his drink hearing those words. My little slut. Ilya ran a hand down Shane’s neck which was lined in goosebumps. Shane couldn’t open his mouth to speak, too afraid a moan might exit, so he just shook his head. 

“My husband does not think I am mean,” Ilya offered JJ a fake smile, kissing Shane on the forehead, without breaking eye contact with the man he hated across from him. You are the asshole that contributed to Shane quitting his favourite team, Ilya wanted to say, but for Shane’s sake he didn’t. JJ rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded a lot like asshole in French. Ilya hid his satisfied smirk in Shane’s hair. The silence was becoming thick with tension and Shane was struggling to say quiet or stand still. Ilya noticed Shane’s grip tightening around his arm and shifted the conversation to Hayden to offer Shane a chance to get a hold of himself. He pressed the vibrator up a speed before doing so, and Shane coughed beside him to stifle another sound. 

“Is good party Hayden, good wine,” he lifted his glass to clink Hayden’s beer. 

“See JJ! Rozanov can be nice,” Hayden offered, clinking the wine glass back. 

“I am godfather of your fifth child Hayden. If I wasn’t nice you would have picked someone else. Someone mean like JJ,” he shrugged matter of factly. JJ scoffed, offended that he had in fact, not been asked to be the newest child’s godfather, but asshole Ilya Rozanov had. 

“Is that what you’re dressed as? A godfather.” Hayden laughed. 

“No idiot, I’m clearly an angel,” Ilya said, offended, holding his arms out in disbelief. Shane quickly grabbed his arm back, he needed to hold on to something. JJ laughed so hard beer nearly came out of his nose. 

“Angel Rozanov huh? Aren’t you the most hated player in the NHL?” JJ scoffed. 

“Only in Montreal,” Ilya shrugged matter of factly. JJ with no rebuttal lifted his beer to finish it. Montreal Metros fans, and players for that matter, hated Ilya Rozanov. They hated Shane Hollander too, often blaming him for the lost cup when he slipped on the ice. But the couple were unstoppable at the Ottawa Centaurs. No two players complimented each other’s playing styles more than the married power couple. 

“Besides, Metros players are only jealous they cannot be the number one world hockey player.” Shane’s thighs began to tremble. He tugged on Ilya’s shirt desperate for him to turn the toy off. Ilya deliberately refused to make eye contact with him, continuing to rub reassuring circles on his lower back. Shane was doing so good for him and Ilya wanted to hold on just a little bit longer. 

“Ilya-” Shane whispered, practically ready to beg in front of his friends for this teasing to stop. 

“Number two,” someone interrupted from the couch in front of them. 

“Two?” Ilya questioned, pressing the remote button twice again. Shane couldn’t help but swear under his breath. It was too much, too overstimulating. He had to turn his hip into Ilya to hide his erection from the group of people surrounding him. 

“Shane is #1,” Luca Haas announced, not looking up from where he was playing with Hayden’s dog. 

“Ahh yes is true, how could I forget,” Ilya smiled down at Shane whose face was not at all hiding the pleasure and embarrassment he was feeling. Ilya had his husband exactly where he wanted him and there was no doubt in his mind that Shane Hollander was loving every second of it. Shane’s eyes began to fill with desperate tears. God how Ilya loved it when Shane cried like this - from pleasure. So overstimulated, so desperate, so in tune with his sexuality that he needed nothing more than to be whisked away and pleasured by his lover. 

“Ilya,” he warned, his bottom lip trembling. Ilya gave him a kiss on the forehead and turned the toy off. He wanted to tell his husband how proud he was of him, praise him, tell him what a good little slut he was being for him. Shane audibly exhaled and blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill over his lashes. 

“Khoroshiy mal’chik,” Ilya said, lifting his glass of wine up to Shane’s lips. He took a sip, grimacing at the sour taste, but uttered no complaint. Good boy. Shane felt his stomach tighten again. He was excited, he was embarrassed, but most of all he was turned on. Maybe he wouldn’t last as long as he’d hoped. All he could think about was getting in Ilya’s car, climbing onto his lap in the front seat and riding his dick. 

“Gross, I’m out,” JJ groaned in response to the public display of affection and walked away from the group. He slumped on the couch next to Luca, who got up almost instantly, to move away from the man Ilya had complained about to him countless times. JJ, defeated, pulled out his phone with no one to talk to. Or annoy, Ilya thought. 

“Good, otvali,” Ilya dropped his forced smile. 

“Ilya be nice,” Shane warned. Hayden tried, and failed horribly, to hide his smile. He knew what that word meant. Ilya had said it to him several times over the years. Both on and off the ice, sometimes when he tried to end movie night prematurely between Ilya and his godson. It meant piss off. 

“I don’t like him,” Ilya pulled Shane’s waist closer to him protectively. 

“We know,” Hayden and Shane said in unison. Ilya finished his glass of wine and gave Shane a tender kiss. Both Hayden and Shane knew there was a reason Ilya Rozanov hated JJ, and it was not unwarranted. He was looking out for Shane, taking care of his husband. Hayden sometimes couldn’t believe they were together. That the big scary Russian giant, number 1 draft pick, was in love with his best friend. He struggled to comprehend it some days. But then he would see the way Ilya kissed him, holding him so tenderly between his hands, being so gentle, so open and happy to kiss his husband in public and rub it in the faces of assholes who caused them years of unhappiness (like JJ), and he understood. Hayden Pike had seen his best friend in the closet, and had seen him out of the closet. They were different people but he had never known Shane without Ilya. That had started to make sense. They made each other stronger and they complimented each other. Hayden would never say it out loud but Shane couldn’t have picked a better man to love him. 

“Refill?” Shane offered quietly, flustered from their kiss and desperate to get away to readjust himself. Ilya nodded, muttering a quick thank you as Shane disappeared into the crowd. Ilya pretended not to notice Luca Haas watching him kiss his husband from across the room. Their eyes met and Luca looked away shyly. Ilya knew, he always knew. Jackie told him he had the best gaydar she’d seen on someone. Ilya didn’t really know what that word meant but he did have a knack for spotting a closeted man. He didn’t know how, but he just knew. Knew from the way they looked at him. Like the way Shane had looked at Ilya in the shower. Or the way Luca was looking at Shane and Ilya kiss. A yearning look. A want. The same look Shane had given him two minutes earlier with teary eyes and dilated pupils. Ilya hoped he gave the same look back to his queer teammates, especially those who were not publicly out. A look that said it is okay, you are safe, I understand you. 

“You make him very happy,” Hayden nudged him playfully in the ribs removing the fixation on his young friend across the room. 

“Not as happy as he makes me,” Ilya shifted his gaze to Shane who was bent over the kitchen sink reaching for a new wine glass. Ilya’s first glass was perfectly fine to keep using but Shane would never drink out of the same glass twice. If he bent a little bit more, Ilya and everyone else at the party would see the underwear peek out from under his dress. He suddenly felt very possessive of Shane, despite the short dress being his idea. 

“You’re really just a softie at heart huh Rozy?” Hayden laughed. Ilya grinned but felt the same feeling deep in his stomach as when he looked at Luca Haas. It wasn't sadness but almost a nostalgic feeling. Like knowing what the young star was feeling but knowing nothing he could say would make a difference to console him. It was scary being bisexual but at least Ilya had Shane, they had worked it out together, for better and for worse. He wondered what it would feel like to not have that support system. Maybe if Scott Hunter hadn’t kissed Kip Grady, Ilya wouldn’t be at this party right now. He wouldn’t be proudly kissing his husband in front of the entire NHL. He might still be leaning against a wall, watching his other queer teammates and fighting with himself to have the courage to love Shane proudly. How lucky he had been to overcome all that and still have a career, and a husband, at the end of it. Life could have gone very differently, very quickly, for Ilya Rozanov. 

“He saved me.” 

“Saved you?” Hayden asked quietly. 

“Yes, I think so. It was so hard. Shane is my soulmate. He is why I came out, why I started a new life as the real me. It was scary at first but I feel so lucky,” Ilya smiled back at Hayden without a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Hayden felt oddly proud of Ilya at that moment. It was easy to forget how long the couple had lived their life in secret. Shane and Ilya had technically been together longer than Jackie and Hayden had, and they had five children together. 

“You’re a good man Ilya, and you deserve this happiness,” Hayden said softly. It was a rare moment for Ilya and Hayden to be so intimate and open, but both men felt comfortable. There was little tension between them anymore, most of it was manufactured for fun. Ilya had not heard someone say he was a good man since the day his mother died. Before he left for school she had kissed him and said “ty nastoyashchiy muzhchina, ty luchshe ikh.” You are a true man, you are better than them. At the time, young Ilya didn’t think anything of it. It was a known fact that his mother and him were different from his father and brother. They understood each other. By the time Ilya arrived home from school, his father’s police workers had already removed the body of his dead mother. Ilya swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I will have to thank Scott Hunter one of these days. I should do it soon, before he dies from old age. I cannot believe you retired before grandpa Scott Hunter,” Hayden laughed at this. His retirement had come as a shock to everyone. It took a long time for Hayden to come to terms with losing his career, but he didn’t really enjoy it anymore. He didn’t play with Shane anymore, there wasn’t any space left at Ottawa for him to transfer despite Ilya begging their coach to make room for him, and he rarely saw his family. Jackie had found out she was pregnant again two weeks after the collision that took Hayden’s playing days from him. He couldn't in good faith, have a fifth child with his wife, and not be around to see them grow up. He loved hockey but he loved being a father and a husband even more. He had been offered the coaching job by Ryan Price and he was loving it. He could see his family, he was in better health than he had been in years, and he still got to be involved in the game he loved. 

“Thank Hunter?” Hayden questioned curiously. Ilya nodded. 

“When he came out, when he kissed Kip Grady on television - it was the night I decided I would stop hiding.” Ilya repeated that memory in his mind often. He had watched Scott Hunter pull his secret lover from the stands and kiss him on national television. He was the first openly gay player in the history of the NHL, and Ilya Rozanov could not have been prouder of the man. Ilya told him that after he won the Conn Smythe and Hart trophies, in the Kingfisher bar, told Scott Hunter that he would change the lives of many of ‘us’ queer hockey players. Scott had noticed the inclusionary word and Ilya only smiled at him, a knowing understanding between them. That night, Scott what he had been suspecting after years of flirtatious heckling from Ilya. That the Russian hockey player was queer and definitely in love with Shane Hollander. That much had been clear since the first time Scott Hunter accidentally asked Shane where ‘his man’ was at the Rookie Awards night and Shane Hollander had turned into a stammering, blushing, denying mess. 

“Oh,” Hayden realised. Scott Hunter’s coming out seemed like years ago. He could not imagine hiding his relationship with Jackie for as long as Ilya and Shane did, let alone putting everything at risk to love her proudly. “You never miss it?” 

“Miss Hunter? Never. Old man is NHL’s worst hockey player. Worse than you. Kip could have a much hotter and much younger hockey player if he wanted. I might even know someone,” Ilya smirked, sneaking a glance back at Haas. 

“Russia. Your family. Your old team?” Hayden corrected with a sigh. Ilya shook his head slowly. He rarely thought of Russia anymore and he avoided social media. He had no doubt the awful things the Russian press had to say about him and Shane. How he brought shame to such a prestigious family. He sent letters with Svetlana for his niece and that was the only contact he had. He did not miss his brother. He definitely did not miss Boston. His new teammates were some of his closest friends. Although, he did miss Marleau. No one could read his mind on the ice as well as him. He saw Svetlana and him, usually together these days. The couple often invited him clubbing but Ilya was content to stay home and cuddle his husband to sleep, his clubbing days long behind him. 

“My family was never in Russia. It is here. With Shane. With Yuna and David. With you and Jackie. With little Archie. With our friends at the Centaurs. And one day with our children.” Ilya paused for a moment before continuing. Hayden noticed how his eyes seemed to tear up. “We will name our baby girl Irina and then my mother will also be home with us, where she belongs.” Hayden did something he had never done before, he pulled Ilya Rozanov into a hug. Ilya sniffled against Hayden’s shoulder, unexpectedly emotional. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was thinking about his mother - he didn’t know. 

“I’m glad to have you as a friend, and as a godfather to Archie,” Hayden whispered, rubbing a soothing circle on Ilya’s back. Ilya gave his back a couple taps in return before they broke apart. 

“You mean that? You were not just running out of people to ask to be godparents for your millions of children?” Ilya joked, sniffing to cover the tears that might have streamed down his face if Hayden had held him for a second longer. Ilya knew that wasn’t true - Jackie had asked him specifically and he had cried when she asked.

“Five children,” Hayden corrected. “And no, we asked because if anything happened, I can trust you, and Shane, to care for him.” 

“Thank you Hayden,” Ilya said softly, bringing his arm around the back of Hayden’s neck to knock their foreheads together, just like he did when they played together in the All Stars game. 

“So will you name your first boy after me?” Hayden shifted the conversation to something more casual. 

“Hayden you have to stop trying to get everyone in this room pregnant,” Ilya sighed dramatically, covering his bare stomach with his hand as if Hayden was going to somehow impregnate him. 

“Who else would you name it after?” Hayden laughed. 

“Mhm me, of course. Ilya is very nice name. Ilya Jr perhaps.” Ilya had, in fact, already made a list of baby names on his phone several years ago. 

“Ilya Grigoryevich Jr. Poor kid doesn’t stand a chance,” Hayden quipped back. Ilya had not heard anyone say his middle name in a long time. Hayden had coaxed it out of Shane one drunken evening and had been waiting for the right moment to use it. 

“Who told you that? I want their names. They will pay! Was Shane, wasn't it?” Ilya accused pointing a finger at his husband who was walking back to the group with two full wine glasses in his hand. He seemed to be much more calm and collected than before, but Ilya would change that. 

“Did I just see you hug each other?” Shane pretended to be shocked. The two men shook their heads in sync. 

“Hug Pike? No, who knows what I will catch,” Ilya poked his tongue out, taking the glass from Shane and taking a big gulp of wine to hide his grin. 

“I definitely saw you hug,” Jackie purred, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss Hayden. 

“We were just talking about children,” Hayden wrapped his arms around his tipsy wife. Shane looked at Jackie with an unexpected look, surely she was not pregnant, again. She raised her hands defensively.

“No, no! No more from me,” Hayden almost choked on his drink at the implication of a sixth child. He loved his family but if they had any more children they were going to have to buy a new house.

“Shane then?” Jackie smirked as he turned a bright shade of red again. It was so easy to embarrass him. 

“What? That is not even possible,” he shook his head, missing the joke, as he often did. 

“I have tried,” Ilya purred, leaning down to playfully bite Shane’s neck. Shane gasped and swatted his husband off him. 

“Okay Ilya, I think you have had too much to drink,” Jackie took his glass from him. Ilya pouted immediately chasing after her, or chasing after the wine. Shane took his husband’s spot next to Hayden against the wall. 

“What were you actually talking about?” He queried and watched Ilya embrace Jackie from behind and steal his glass back.  

“You two think about kids?” The abrupt question made Shane’s heart beat faster for some reason. Sometimes his nervous system forgot he was not in the closet anymore and surrounded by supportive friends. 

“Yes. I think maybe in the next year or so we will start seriously planning for adoption and maybe discuss retiring.” Retiring? Shane Hollander had never talked about retiring. 

“Wow that’s big for you,” Hayden responded genuinely shocked. He made a mental note to ask Ilya for one of Shane’s old jerseys to hang in the Montreal stadium. That was - if he still had one. Hayden would not blame him if he had burnt them all when he moved to Ottawa. If he didn’t have one, Hayden would have one commissioned before Shane retired. Shane nodded. It scared the hell out of him. Who was he without hockey? He has given his life to the sport. 

“I have worked so hard. I think I deserve to rest.” He sounded like his therapist, which he supposed was a good thing. “An early retirement wouldn’t be so bad. I would still get to coach the kids, we have replacements coming up in Ottawa. I have more money than I know what to do with.” Shane shrugged. 

“Hockey is everything to me but I want to know a life without it. I want to get to know myself.” It had taken Shane many years to come to this conclusion. Nothing excited him more than starting a family with Ilya, retiring and watching his children grow up. Maybe they would play hockey too. Shane would be there to protect them from everything their fathers had endured. 

“I’m so proud of you, the two of you, really.” Hayden smiled playing with the rim of his wine glass. Shane returned the compliment by bumping his head against Hayden’s shoulder. He was beginning to feel tipsy. 

“Pike! Hollander! Cards! Let’s go before Rozanov steals everyone’s money,” Haas yelled from across the room. The two joined the table where both their partners were already playing, hands filled with cards. 

“Jackie, you are cheating!” Ilya accused throwing back another shot which seemed to be the punishment for losing. 

“Ilya stop being a baby,” she stole the twenty dollar bill laid out in front of him. Ilya grimaced as the liquor settled in his empty stomach. 

“Lyubimiy, sit,” Ilya tapped his lap beckoning Shane over. He obliged, sitting on his partner's lap as Ilya placed two new cards in his hands. His husband was definitely tipsy, and immediately began groping Shane’s thighs under the table and kissing the back of his neck discreetly.  

“What are we playing?” Hayden asked, sitting next to Harris Drover, who had his legs draped across his partner sitting next to him, Troy Barrett. 

“Black Jack,” Barrett smiled, laying two cards in front of Hayden. Jackie tried to look over at her husband's cards but he turned them back towards the table. They were the only couple more competitive than Shane and Ilya. 

“Roz?” Barrett asked. Ilya looked at the cards Shane was holding. A ten and a five. He knocked on the table twice. “Another card,” he announced. Ilya’s hand found its way underneath Shane’s dress, pulling Shane’s ass closer to his throbbing erection. He wanted Shane to feel his arousal. He was tipsy and that only made him want his husband more. Ilya briefly fantasised about pushing everyone's cards off the table and taking Shane right here in front of them. 

“That isn’t what you say Ilya,” Shane retaliated telling him off. Ilya put out his free hand as if to say, well go ahead, and once Shane opened his mouth to speak Ilya pressed the button in his pocket. Shane stumbled over his words, “Hit me.” Haas looked at him, noticing the odd inhale Shane had taken. Ilya wrapped his hand around Shane’s cock, admiring how quickly it turned hard. Shane picked up the third card, a seven. Perfect. Ilya noticed the way Shane’s other hand gripped into his skin underneath the table. Ilya teased his thumb over the swollen head of Shane’s leaking cock. He had made a wet mess of the panties and Ilya couldn’t wait to taste him. 

“Tebe eto nravitsya?” Ilya asked as the rest of the table was distracted with asking for more cards. Do you like this? Ilya wanted to shove his wet fingers into Shane's mouth and make him suck his precum off them. Shane nodded as Ilya quickened the pace. The vibration inside of him was hitting the perfect spot and Ilya's hard erection against his ass was making it worse. 

“Ya tebya hochu,” Shane turned his head to face Ilya who looked up at him. I need you. Ilya moved a stray hair out of his eyes. 

“I know baby, bud' khoroshim mal'chikom,” Ilya let Shane rest his head on his shoulder, body turned away from the group. Be a good boy. Ilya pressed the remote again. Shane was being so good for him. Just a little bit longer. Shane’s breathing was quick and messy, his nails digging into Ilya’s thighs. Ilya slowed down the pace he had on Shane’s cock, going back to a teasing pressure that had Shane rutting into his hand. Thank god for the table cloth. 

“21! All of you must drink,” Ilya announced with a happy grin on his face. The table groaned. 

“You too,” Ilya offered a shot to Shane pouring it into his mouth. Shane grimaced at the spicy alcohol. It was not good Russian vodka, it was cheap Canadian shit. He had grown to know what good vodka tastes like. He especially liked the taste of it off Ilya’s tongue. Ilya patted his thigh making Shane turn back to the group. Shane tried to cover his erection to stop Ilya’s teasing but Ilya only tightened his grip as a warning. 

“Last round for me. I am not a millionaire like some of you,” Luca groaned, placing the last of the money from his wallet onto the table. 

“I am not millionaire,” Ilya teased, knocking on the table for another card. He showed Shane his cards. 20. “I am a multi-millionaire, with very rich husband. Maybe if you got a rich husband, you would be millionaire too," he teased, nudging Luca under the table with his leg. The one Shane wasn’t sitting on. Luca rolled his eyes brushing off the comment. Ilya hoped he hadn’t taken offense but took it as a reminder that Ilya was a safe space if he needed to talk. 

“I am feeling lucky,” Ilya announced, hitting the table once more. Troy handed him another card to which Ilya groaned. He let go of Shane’s dick to throw his cards on the table. 

“Chityer!” He proclaimed loudly. Barrett laughed as he snatched up to $100 bill Ilya had put on the table. His friends didn’t need to know Russian to guess what Ilya had just called them. 

“You are a sore loser Ilya,” Jackie laughed pouring the last of the wine bottle into her glass. 

“Is not true, Barrett gave me that card on purpose,” he accused. “Isn’t that right Shane?” Ilya addressed him, being the menace he so often was, so that the entire table turned to look at his flustered husband. Shane couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shane, are you feeling okay?” Hayden asked, leaning back in his chair. Shane nodded his head, forcing a smile. He was going to cum. He was going to cum in front of everyone with Ilya’s hand on his cock under the table and a vibrator in his ass. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He couldn’t hide it any longer. He wasn’t that strong.

“Shane? You are feeling sick?” Ilya pretended to care despite his hand squeezing Shane’s dick over and over. If anyone looked under the table Shane would never be able to show his face again. Shane nodded hoping Ilya would get the message to stop. The vibrator came to a halt inside of him. 

“Light weight,” Hayden laughed. Ilya removed his hand from Shane’s cock, sliding his dress down and lifting him up as Ilya stood. 

“He has drunk too much, we will be back,” Ilya said, finishing his glass and leading Shane by the arm away from the table. Shane felt like he could breathe again. The shot, as well as the several beers and wine he had, were making the room spin a little. But it was nothing like the electricity running through his body. He needed Ilya to fuck him now. He needed to cum. And if that was in Hayden's bathroom, so be it. It wouldn't be the first time. Ilya helped him up the stairs, covering his ass so no one could see the panties that were exposed with each step. As soon as they reached the bathroom door, Shane pushed Ilya against it, their lips attacking each other. Ilya moaned happily as Shane reached for his hand, guiding it against his throbbing cock. 

“You were so close, I could feel your thighs shaking under the table. You nearly came in front of all your friends. Such a good slut for me,” Ilya mumbled against Shane’s neck. Shane felt like his heart was racing a million miles a minute. Ilya had never teased him for so long. 

“Fuck Ilya, just fuck me please,” he groaned desperately. Ilya went back to looking at Shane, his hand moving off his husband's dick. Shane nearly cried from the loss of contact. Ilya gently placed a hand on the back of Shane's neck guiding him over to the sink. Shane looked like a mess. Ilya gently held his arms behind his back before bending him over, the mirror only a hand's length away from his face. Shane let out an audible gasp as the cool marble pressed beneath him. Holding his arms in place, Ilya threaded his free hand through Shane's brown hair, yanking it up until Shane was forced to look at his reflection. 

“I want you to see how pretty you look right now. With tears in your eyes begging me to give you what you want,” Ilya watched Shane wriggle underneath him in the mirror. 

“Please-” Shane whispered desperately. 

“Whose hole is this?” Ilya purred, pushing himself against Shane’s ass. Shane couldn’t move his arms if he tried. Ilya was stronger than him. 

“All yours,” Shane whimpered. Ilya moved his fingers from Shane's hair down to his lips. Shane sucked them in desperate for any kind of stimulation he could get. Drool dripped from his lips as Ilya pushed them deeper and deeper into his mouth. 

“Da that’s right Shane, all mine. I will decide when to fuck you. All you need to do is look pretty and do as you're told. Can you do that for me?” Shane nodded. Ilya pulled his fingers out, to which Shane gagged, and turned Shane around to face him. He grabbed his chin forcing Shane to look at him. 

“Doesn’t my dick make you feel good? Don’t I always make sure you go to sleep happy and filled?” he asks. Shane nodded again, and Ilya gently slapped him on the face. 

“Use your words baby,” he teased roughly. 

“Da, you always take care of me,” Shane whispered back, pretending not to be even more turned on by Ilya’s dominance. It was true - Ilya had never deprived Shane. Sometimes he edged or teased him, but never denied him. 

“I just need you,” Shane begged, gripping Ilya’s shirt. Ilya lifted Shane onto the bench, to which Shane wrapped his legs around Ilya's waist. That is all Ilya needed to hear. 

“You will say your goodbyes with the vibrator on-” Shane shook his head in protest. 

“I can’t hold it anymore please,” tears welled in his eyes again. Ilya was practically bursting with pride. Shane was the perfect husband, always fulfilling his desires, no matter how dirty. 

“Quiet lyubov' moya, listen to me.” Ilya soothed his overstimulated lover, rubbing a sensitive nipple through his thin costume. A tear slipped down Shane's cheek and a shiver ran through him again. 

“After you have said goodbye. We will get in my car and you will be the good boy I know you are and wait until we are home. Then I will fuck you and make you cum twice. How does that sound?” 

“Yes please,” Shane choked out. Ilya lent forward, placing his tongue against the tears on Shane's cheek and licked them up. 

“Such good manners,” Ilya smirked. “You look so pretty when you cry. I cannot wait to watch you cry while you choke on my cock,” he teased, turning the vibrator back on. Shane fell forward into his shoulder letting himself verbally moan for the first time all evening. The muffled music coming from the kitchen covered it.

“Go say goodbye,” Ilya instructed, lifting Shane off the counter and opening the door for him. Shane wiped his tears before leaving. 

By the time they got through the hoard of people to say goodbye to, Shane was desperate to leave. He slammed the door behind him and silently scolded Ilya for gossiping with Jackie at the front door and having no sense of urgency. When he finally had enough, Shane rolled down the window and yelled at his husband to hurry up. 

“Ilya Hollander-Rozanov!” Ilya turned at his full name. 

“Sorry Shane! Wow he really must be feeling sick,” she declared, giving Ilya a kiss on the cheek and closing the door behind her as she re-entered the party. 

“Is something wrong?” He asked innocently, starting the car and clicking his seatbelt into place. Shane was gripping his seat with both hands, and moaned into his arm as Ilya drove over a bump backing out of the Pikes rocky driveway. 

“You are so needy, look at you.” Ilya purred, resting his hand on Shane’s thigh as he drove. Every touch felt like a spark of electricity running through Shane’s bloodstream and right into his dick. 

“Turn it off please.” He was tired of begging. 

“Oh I must have put the remote in the backseat with my wings, whoops.” Shane cried out in disbelief. If Ilya touched his cock it was over, he was going to ruin this stupid nun costume Ilya had dressed him in. 

“Turn it off now or I will make a mess all over these expensive leather seats.” Shane warned. Ilya’s eyes narrowed. 

“Don't you dare or I will make you clean it up with your tongue Shane,” Ilya loved this car. Nearly as much as he loved the man sitting in the passenger seat. It cost him a ridiculous amount of money that he couldn't justify and he wasn’t about to let Shane wreck it. 

“Fuck you, I should do it,” Shane considered for a second and unclicked his seatbelt. Usually he would lecture Ilya on the importance of safety when driving but he didn’t care if he made it out of this car dead or alive, as long as he got to cum. 

“Ne dvigaysya,” Ilya warned. Don’t move. Shane didn’t care. He shifted his seat back and quickly manoeuvred his body into the back seat. Ilya was growing more and more frustrated, sexually that was. 

“Shane put your seatbelt on,” He warned, raising his voice. 

“Come put it on for me. Ser,” Shane purred, offering Ilya an innocent smile through the rear view mirror. Ilya gripped the steering wheel tighter. He loved when Shane called him that. Shane spread his legs letting Ilya see the lacey underwear under his dress. 

“Hollander,” Ilya almost sounded like he was begging. Almost. 

“I’ve been edging for hours. I need to cum.” Shane groped himself over the underwear. Ilya sat silent for a moment, letting him play his little game. “Fine, go ahead. If you cum in this car I will not stop fucking you until you are so sore you cannot walk,” He warned. Shane laughed. Was that supposed to be a threat? It sounded like fun. Shane responded by spreading his thighs further apart and pulling the underwear to the side. They were pretty and he knew Ilya would want him to keep them on when he finally fucked him. Shane knew Ilya would fuck him after this. 

“Fuck,” Shane gasped finally touching himself after hours of being teased. Ilya’s pupils dilated, switching his gaze between the road in front of him and the view of his husband pleasuring himself in the back seat.

“Stop,” Ilya’s jaw clenched. He didn’t really care if Shane listened or not. His obedience, or lack there of, would just determine how many times Ilya would let Shane cum tonight. Twice if he was good and stopped touching himself. Once - maybe, if he didn’t.

“Mmm I’m already so close, I’ve been waiting for hours. Fuck I needed this,” Shane whimpered pulling his thighs up to the seat and leaning back. Here Ilya could see everything. Ilya knew what he was doing. If he came Ilya would fuck him so hard he wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow. Shane tapped on the vibrating toy still inside of him, gently applying pressure to send himself over the edge. 

“You don’t want to taste me? What a waste,” Shane pouted, bringing his fingers that were coated in his mess up to his lips, licking them clean. Ilya grinded against his seat, a loud desperate growl escaping his lips. He was desperate to taste him. He wanted to swallow him whole. 

“Fuck ah- I’m going to,” Ilya watched as Shane made a mess into his hand and up his pretty dress. Without hesitating or using a blinker, he roughly pulled onto the side of the road, turning the car off and sitting in the dark. Shane lifted his hand for Ilya to see in the mirror and deliberately wiped it on the leather seats Ilya had spent all yesterday morning detailing. Without another word, Ilya opened the front seat, got out, went to the back seat and swung it open furiously. Shane had been smart enough to move to the other side. 

“Here now,” Ilya pointed to the side he was closest to. When Shane didn’t move, Ilya leaned down and yanked Shane up into the outside of his car by his dress collar. Shane let out a gasp in surprise. 

“I know you too well, my pretty slut. You want me to fuck you like this. Nice and rough for everyone to see,” He pushed Hollander against the cold side of his car. There were no street lamps here. Only the headlights of Ilya's car illuminate the shadows around them. Shane pulled Ilya in for a hungry kiss. 

“If you want to stop, what do you say?” Ilya asked, reestablishing their boundaries and waiting for Shane’s consent before going further.

“Red,” Shane responded without hesitating. He had cum but he wasn’t satisfied. He needed Ilya. 

“Good boy. You want me to fuck you outside here?” Shane nodded eagerly. 

“So dirty, so needy.” Ilya pushed Shane against the boot of his car pulling the dress up over his ass. 

“Let me show you how desperate I've been for you all night,” Ilya groaned, roughly pulling the panties to one side. He wanted to keep them on while he fucked his naughty slut. Ilya held the base of the toy and gently pulled it out of Shane who whimpered at the empty feeling. 

“If you had waited until we were home I would have had lube, lucky you are already nice and ready for me.” Ilya held his hand in front of Shane's mouth ordering him to spit in it. Ilya used this to coat his dick and pushed the tip inside of Shane. Ilya was much bigger than the toy and he gave Shane time to adjust to the sting. 

“Stay still shlyukha, put your hands on the trunk and don’t move, da?” Shane did exactly that. Shane cried out as Ilya wasted no time fucking into him, his thick cock stretching out Shane’s hole. Ilya’s dick fit perfectly inside him, it was like the universe had made Shane just for Ilya, and Ilya alone. 

“My pretty slut, wearing such a pretty dress,” Ilya moaned, throwing his head back. Nothing felt better than Shane’s ass and he had been waiting all night. He had been waiting a lifetime to fuck him over the boot of his expensive sportscar. “Ya tebya lablu, so dirty for me. Don’t cover your moans. I want everyone to hear how much you need my dick. How good you were for me all night,” Ilya babbled so engrossed in making himself feel good he could barely understand what he was saying. Ilya lifted Shane, still inside of him and laid him back first on the trunk. It was the perfect height to pile drive into him. Shane’s moans grew louder and Ilya knew he was getting closer to the brink of orgasm. 

“Don’t stop, I’m so close,” Shane whimpered, nails digging into Ilya's back. Ilya hoped he would leave marks. He loved looking in the mirror the next day, tracing the angry red marks and feeling his dick throb remembering how good Shane had felt. 

“Not yet, not until I am ready,” Ilya demanded. His hand came down hard on Shane’s thigh, leaving a red handprint from the spank. Ilya felt a familiar tightness settle in his lower stomach. 

“I want you Ilya, pozhaluysta,” Shane cried. Please. 

“Again,” Ilya gritted his teeth. “Say it again.” His thrusting became more erratic, faster and sloppier. Ilya was so close. There was something to erotic about fucking his lover on the side of the road like this. Anyone could drive past them and see. A small part of Ilya wished they would so he could show off his perfect husband, who had his legs spread on the front of his sexy sportscar, begging to be made a dripping cum slut. 

“Pozhaluysta ser. Konchi v menya,” Shane choked out barely able to form words as he reached his pinnacle. Please sir, come inside of me. Ilya Rozanov did not need to be told twice. He thrust one final time and emptied his load inside of his willing husband. Shane reached down to stroke his cock in order to finish alongside Ilya, but Ilya grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

“Don’t even think about finishing,” he breathed out trying to catch his breath. Shane could feel Ilya throbbing inside of him. He opened his mouth to protest and Ilya placed his palm over Shane’s lips silencing him. 

“You are so greedy Hollander. You already came, you do not get to cum again. You understand?” Ilya’s face was covered in sweat, cheeks flushed, looking love drunk. Shane felt his heart sink. He wanted to cum again, but he knew if he behaved maybe Ilya would fuck him again when they got home, so he nodded his head in agreement. Ilya removed his hand, giving Shane a slow kiss. 

“Don’t move when I pull out, da?” Ilya whispered sternly. 

“Da.” Shane watched Ilya pull out the toy from his pocket. He gently lined it up with his cock, slowly pulling out and thrusting the plug back in. Ilya smiled at the mess between Shane’s thighs. This was new. Never had Ilya finished inside of him, then put a toy in after to hold in his mess.

“Might come in handy later,” Ilya teased lifting Shane up around his waist again. Shane held on to Ilya’s neck as he carried him back around to the passenger seat, opening the door with one hand and maneuvering Shane inside. 

“I can walk you know,” Shane said grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I know my love but let me help you,” Ilya buckled Shane into the seat. When Shane didn’t respond or uncross his arms, Ilya gave him another kiss. This always seemed to work in softening Shane up. Ilya climbed into his own seat, fixing his dishevelled hair in the rear view mirror before putting on his seatbelt. 

“Do not be grumpy Shane,” Ilya teased, pulling back onto the road as if he hadn’t just made love to his husband out in the open. Shane looked out the window, his chin resting on his arm, refusing to answer out of spite. He wanted to be fucked again. He had been teased all day and it wasn’t enough. 

“You are being neposlushnyy, where has my good boy gone?” Ilya rubbed gentle soothing circles with his thumb against Shane’s exposed thigh. Shane scoffed at that word - disobedient. “Tell me what is wrong and maybe I can help you,” Ilya sang, knowing exactly what Shane wanted. He flicked the indicator on, pulling into the road that would have them home in less than ten minutes. 

“I wanted to cum, I wanted you to fuck me more.” Shane mumbled, still looking out the window. 

“More? So greedy. I am not fucking machine, I cannot go all night.” Ilya Rozanov could in fact go all night. They had, on several occasions, fucked for hours. Made love until sunlight gently lit up the room and they heard the morning loons sing loudly in the forest outside their bedroom window. Had orgasm after orgasm until Ilya fell asleep on Shane’s chest, cuddling in their mess and too tired to worry about showering. Ilya had planned to do the same tonight, but he still had ten minutes before they were home - ten minutes to tease Shane into a whiny mess ready to be fucked again. 

“Liar,” Shane rolled his eyes, making sure Ilya could see. They sat in silence the rest of the ride home. Ilya watched Shane fidget against the seat several times trying to get comfortable with having Ilya’s mess inside of him. Shane was ready to get up and leave the second Ilya pulled the car into the driveway of their house. Ilya locked the car from the button on his driver's side door, watching Shane’s shoulders slump in defeat as he failed to pull the handle in time. 

“How many times did I tell you I would make you cum?” Ilya asked, pulling the keys from the ignition. 

“Twice.” 

“And how many times have I made you cum?” 

“One.” Technically Shane had done that to himself. 

“Ah no liar, you made yourself cum.” Ilya laughed, eyeing the stain on his leather seats. Shane would be cleaning that tomorrow - with his tongue or a sponge, Ilya didn’t mind either way. 

“I told you I would make you cum at least twice, I would never deprive you, my love. You know this,” Ilya squeezed Shane’s thigh silently begging him to make eye contact. Shane rolled his head slowly on the seat headrest, facing Ilya. He had a soft smile plastered on his face at the realisation Ilya was going to take him inside and give him what he so desperately wanted. 

“Take me inside and make love to me Ilya Hollander-Rozanov,” Shane whispered.

Within seconds they were making out against their front door, Shane sucking on Ilya’s neck while Ilya fumbled with the house keys. The door finally gave in and they nearly fell into a heap on the hardwood floor. Ilya carried Shane up the stairs, irritated they hadn’t decided to build their bedroom next to the front entrance. Once on their bed, Shane climbed into his husband's lap. Their kisses had slowed, and were more gentle and deliberate now - not so desperate. Here in their bedroom, they had all night to take their time and explore each other's bodies. Ilya slipped the costume off Shane admiring his chiseled chest. His hands reached down his body to grip Shane’s ass, squeezing it. Ilya's fingers danced across the lace sheathing Shane's cock, admiring the fabric that had left a pretty pattern indented into his skin. Ilya hated to wreck them but he needed Shane now. Besides he would definitely be buying another pair, or two, in the near future. Ilya's fingers reached underneath the panties, gripping to elastic and ripping them in half, leaving easy access for Shane to slide onto Ilya's cock. Shane gasped at the unexpected force. 

“Need you, not this toy,” Shane stuttered as Ilya pushed against the plug with his finger. Ilya gently pulled it out admiring the mess that began to drip out of Shane’s hole and onto his skirt. His own underwear had been left in a discarded heap on the floor along with Shane's dress but he had kept the skirt on. 

“Show me how you make yourself cum on my cock,” Ilya gripped Shane’s hips, guiding them to grind against his erection, coating it in his wetness. He would let Shane ride him at his own pace, at least for his first orgasm.

“Use it baby, use it to fuck yourself,” he encouraged as Shane reached down to hold Ilya’s cum covered dick and line it up with his entrance. Shane had never been more turned on. He wasted no time pushing himself onto Ilya. Ilya’s head fell back, feeling Shane take every inch of his hard cock. Shane steadied himself, two hands on Ilya's chest, before moving up and down. 

“Fuck so perfect,” Ilya moaned, still sensitive from his last orgasm. “That’s it baby you can take it. Keep going, don’t stop.” Ilya encouraged as Shane’s thighs began to tremble. 

“Need you,” Shane swore, barely audible. 

“Need what?” Ilya gasped admiring how Shane had perfected the art of riding him. His hips rolled against Ilya, grinding and lifting at the same time. Shane teased and pulled Ilya’s nipples that had become more sensitive since having them pierced. Shane knew how to take what he wanted from his husband, and make Ilya feel good while doing it. 

“You, fuck, please just fuck me,” Shane whimpered slumping against Ilya, tired after a long night of being teased. He was tired so Ilya would reward him for his hard work. He flipped them around, still inside of him, and began fucking Shane into the mattress. 

“Harder please,” Shane moaned. 

“Harder? Are you sure?” Ilya checked. 

“Yes God-” Shane breathed, pulling Ilya closer to him by the scruff of his hair. 

“Anything you want,” he gently kissed Shane's inner thigh before slamming harder into him. Shane struggled to keep his eyes open. 

“More Ilya, I need all of you,” Fuck. Shane was going to kill Ilya. Ilya gave him everything he had. Everything his desperate, needly slut needed. It was all his. Ilya’s necklace dangled back and forth across Shane’s face. 

“Need to taste you Shane, cum for me please,” Ilya moaned, struggling to keep pace as his own orgasm threatened to rip through him again.

“So close,” Shane whispered and the second his back arched, Ilya knew he was going to cum. He pulled out of Shane and wrapped his mouth around his cock just in time to take his load. Ilya swallowed every drop until Shane was pushing his head off from oversensitivity. 

He held his dick over Shane giving it two pumps before releasing his own finish all over his stomach. It was such a pretty sight. His worn out husband covered in his cum. He wanted to take a photo and frame it on the wall for everyone to see. 

“Stay still,” Ilya whispered, leaning over awkwardly to grab his phone from the bed side table. He gently pushed his thumb into Shane’s mouth as he took the perfect photo. Shane’s eyes were half open, watery and his face a flustered mess. His body was lined with sweat and cum covered his chest. His swollen lips and tongue wrapped around Ilya’s thumb. It was the most perfect sight Ilya had ever seen. 

“So pretty my love, that is just for me to see, yes?” Shane nodded, happy for Ilya to keep the photo. Shane couldn’t speak, he was practically non-verbal after being teased for hours and fucked twice. He often cried after sex. It wasn’t a reflection on Ilya, who always checked in and asked for verbal consent multiple times. It was just a release of emotions. A vulnerable moment where Shane felt so loved and cared for it overwhelmed him. 

“Come here baby, you did so good for me,” Ilya whispered, pulling Shane into his lap to hold. Shane sighed letting himself relax. He was safe, he was loved and most importantly he was happy. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispered, stroking his hair. 

“I love you so much,” Shane whispered back. Ilya could hear it a thousand times and never get tired. Shane was his, he was Shane’s. Ilya was so happy. Life was so simple here wrapped in the arms of the man he would grow old with. 

“That was hot,” Shane sighed happily.

“Mhm it was a very fun night, I should put you in a dress more often,” Ilya laughed. Shane nodded. He would be okay with that. 

“Was okay for you tonight? The teasing wasn’t too much? I wanted you to have fun but maybe I was too rough-” Shane looked up at Ilya. He was perfect, tonight had been perfect.  

“No. It was perfect, I loved it. You know exactly what to do to make me feel good,” Shane reassured him, kissing him deeply. Ilya sunk into the kiss. 

“How did I get so lucky?” Ilya thought out loud. How had the sad, abused boy from Russia become a Canadian citizen and find a family in the Hollanders? How did he find the courage to come out, play hockey with his husband and be so open in loving a man. Shane Hollander was meant for him. 

“Wash my hair in the shower?” Shane offered. Ilya nodded letting Shane run ahead to start warming the shower. If Ilya could marry Shane again at that moment he would. He was unexpectedly overcome with emotions. 

“Can you walk?” Ilya asked, a little worried he had hurt his husband. Shane wobbled to his feet. 

“Only just, do not worry. You did not hurt me,” Shane assured, seeing the worried look on Ilya’s face. 

“I will have to fuck you even harder next time then, was not enough if you can still walk.” Shane started the shower and Ilya quickly followed. This was a sacred moment in their routine - showering and washing each other. Caring for one another so intimately that nothing outside those four bathroom walls mattered. 

“Hayden told me what you said about having kids you know,” Shane smiled, squeezing body wash into his hands, lathering them between his palms until bubbles slipped into the spaces in between his fingers. 

“Mhm I told him our plans.” Ilya enjoyed the way Shane massaged his shoulders as he rubbed soap into his skin. He stopped on every freckle, every mole in Ilya’s back. Taking the time to map them out like constellations against the night sky. 

“I am ready. I want to rest. I want to retire and I want to start a family with you.” Shane had never been so sure of anything. 

“I think we gave it a pretty good effort,” Ilya smiled tenderly. Their careers had been exciting, filled with record breaking, Stanley Cups and a heated rivalry. He turned, holding Shane in his arms. “I want that too. I have for a long time. We have worked hard enough and are allowed to build a life around us, not hockey, for once.” Shane nodded. He had never been good at prioritising other people or himself over the sport that made him famous, but with Ilya’s help, he was ready to try. 

“I also heard that you told Hayden my middle name. We will not be calling our child that, Shane Mildred Hollander.” 

“Now you have gone too far,” Shane joked, throwing a wad of bubbles at Ilya's chest. The sound of their laughter was loud enough to echo out of their ensuite window and be heard outside. 

Eighteen months later, the Hollander-Rozanovs, and their publicity manager Yuna Hollander, shocked the NHL by announcing their joint retirement the day after they won their fourth consecutive Stanley Cup with the Ottawa Centaurs. Ilya Rozanov, in addition to being CEO of the Irina Foundation, took on the role of the lead National Hockey League broadcaster, which he enjoyed immensely. Nothing made him more excited than the prospect of getting to publicly critique Scott Hunter for the entire stadium to hear when the Admirals played. Upon hearing of Ilya’s new job, Scott Hunter finally retired. Shane Hollander was offered a coaching position in the NHL, but politely turned it down to focus his energy on the Irina Foundation full time. He expanded funding to include school mentoring programs, matching queer students with LGBTQIA+ hockey stars. Eventually Ryan Price would wear him down enough until he accepted the role of Deputy Commissioner of the NHL. Two months later, they would welcome their first child into the world. Irina Hollander-Rozanov. Hayden Pike waited until the day their daughter was born to hang Shane’s jersey in the rafters at Montreal Stadium. The day Ilya held his daughter for the first time, was the last time he ever wore his mother’s necklace. He set it on his bedside table next to her framed photo. His mother had, in some way, been brought back home to him and that was enough for Ilya Rozanov. The first time Irina would visit her father’s homeland she would take the necklace and leave it on the grave of the woman she was named after. Her father was never able to return but she wanted her grandmother to know she was never forgotten by him.