Chapter Text
The morning sun was starting to peek through the trees, shining through the windows onto their faces. Ilya stirred, though he didn’t open his eyes- he could stay like this forever and be entirely content, wrapped up in Shane’s body. A pesky voice in his head attempted to remind him that this was not going to last, that in just over a week, he’d have to return to Boston… But that voice was replaced by the soft sounds of Shane stirring beside him.
"Good morning," Ilya said with a smile. He had never known sleep like this. Part of Ilya never wanted to leave the bed. They'd talked about going kayaking today, and that still sounded fun, but so did staying like this for the rest of the day. Shane probably wouldn't go for it, though, never one to laze about, unlike Ilya. "Did you have good sleep?"
“Mhm. Always sleep good with you here,” Shane murmured sleepily. He’d felt so settled, barely stirring in the night due to Ilya being right beside him, anchoring him. It had been the best sleep he’d had in ages. He pressed a kiss to a mole on Ilya’s neck. He’d dreamt of mapping those moles for years- maybe this trip was his chance. “Did you?”
"Very good sleep," Ilya said with a nod. Ordinarily, Ilya was a deep sleeper, but this was a different kind of sleep. It was restful in a way Ilya didn't think he'd ever had. At the very least, not in years.
"I might go for a walk later." Shane seemed to appreciate some time alone to decompress, and Ilya did want to get his fill of nature before he went back to the city. This wasn't the last time he'd be here, he kept reminding himself, but it was going to be a while.
“Before breakfast? Or later?” Shane asked. Shane rolled them over so that he could lay on top of Ilya, resting his nose against Ilya’s neck. He felt the warmed metal of Ilya’s gold chain against his cheek, sprawled over Ilya’s body comfortably. He didn’t have to worry about squishing Ilya, knowing that he was solid and more than able to withstand Shane’s weight. It was yet another way that he preferred this to the few times he’d woken up next to Rose- he didn’t have to be careful with Ilya the same way.
Ilya closed his eyes and considered the question. After breakfast sounded more appealing. He'd have more of a chance to wake up and spend time with Shane before heading out. "After, I think. Once I'm a little more awake." He didn't want to get lost in the woods, after all.
"But I might not want to even leave the bed if we stay like this," he teased. "Is nice, being like this."
Shane pressed a soft kiss to Ilya’s jaw, smiling softly. “Mm, it is nice. But I’m planning to do some morning yoga. So you’ll lose half the body warmth soon,” he teased, smiling dopily at Ilya. He wanted to stretch, to start his day with some body movement. It would feel good, and much needed after all of the crazy sex they’d been having; Shane always enjoyed early morning yoga when the birds were chirping and the air was still crisp and the grass a bit dewy.
"Where do you do your yoga, then?" Ilya asked, his arms tightening even more. He wasn't ready for them to get up just yet. It was comfortable, and he was still enjoying having Shane in his arms. "If not where the producers of that show wanted you to?" It was strange, knowing just how much of what he knew about Shane before this week was perfectly curated by other people. Ilya didn't care about all that. He wanted to know the real Shane. And what he was starting to know about him only made Ilya fall that much more in love with him.
“On the patio, facing the lake. It’s not too bright there this time of day, and the air is nice and brisk. You can join me, if you want,” Shane offered as he leaned in to press a kiss to Ilya’s nose. He’d always admired Ilya’s side profile- it reminded Shane of Greek statues from museums, commemorating long dead heroes and gods of myths. Ilya looked so classically handsome, and intense- like Achilles or Hercules, so much power but so much on his shoulders.
Ilya chuckled and shook his head. "Mmm, thank you, but no. You would not want me there." Ilya knew Shane would object to that, but he also knew he was right. Shane liked the meditative part of yoga as much as anything else, but Ilya knew that if he was anywhere close to Shane when he was in half those poses, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off him.
"I will go walk instead,” Ilya continued. It would give him a chance to do more sketching. The landscape really was beautiful; there were a few parks and areas in Boston that Ilya enjoyed visiting, but there were usually enough people around who knew who he was that trying to get any time for private contemplation was impossible. Here, he had plenty of both time and privacy.
“I always want you there,” Shane countered. He couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t want Ilya by his side. He wanted to experience everything together, the good and the bad. But he wouldn’t push Ilya to do this with him. “But if you want to go on a walk, it’s okay. If you go right, and follow the trail, there’s a pretty waterfall at the end. It’s kinda hidden, but worth seeing.” He smiled slightly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ilya’s mouth, because he could.
It warmed something in Ilya, hearing that Shane wanted him there, even if he knew that Shane would likely feel differently if Ilya was not able to keep his hands off him while he was trying to do yoga. Bad enough that Shane literally bent his body in half for some of those poses; Ilya was just a man, and a very horny one at that. He perked up when Shane mentioned a waterfall.
"I would like to see that," Ilya said with a broad smile. It sounded beautiful. The kind of thing that Ilya would never get in Boston, and certainly never had in Moscow.
“I played in a tournament once, in juniors, in a city near Toronto. It’s got more waterfalls than anywhere else in the world. We took a little trip to one of them as a team, called the Devil’s Punchbowl, which was definitely a mistake, because the coaches spent the whole time yelling at us to stop climbing all the big rocks,” Shane chuckled softly, a smile on his face. He couldn’t help it- Ilya’s smile made his heart beat faster. It was like staring into the sun, it warmed all who were near. And Shane had the luck of being the one it was directed at.
Ilya had only ever seen a couple of waterfalls in his travels, and certainly none like what Shane was talking about. He was curious about it. Then again, he was curious about everything related to Shane. But there was something special about the thought of going to places Shane had enjoyed as a kid. Seeing that part of him that Ilya had never known.
"Maybe we could go someday," he said. Ilya knew it would be years before that could happen, but it was still a nice thought. Someday. They had a someday to look forward to.
“That would be nice,” Shane murmured. He never wanted to leave this moment with Ilya, but he knew if he stayed much longer he’d spend the whole day in bed. He pressed one last kiss to Ilya, then got up, stretching his back for a moment. “I’m gonna get changed. Don’t want it to get too hot before I start.”
As soon as Shane stood up, Ilya felt the loss. He let out a groan and forced himself out of bed as well, only to pull Shane in for another hug. It was fine. He would be fine. It would be good to go for a walk. To see the sights and everything. And Shane would appreciate having the time alone. So really, Ilya just needed to get it through his head (heart) that he didn't need to be attached to Shane every minute of the day. "Okay," he said, finally pulling back. "You can get changed."
Shane gave Ilya a smile, the real kind that crinkled his nose. “You suuuure?” He asked, slowly and dramatically shuffling backwards towards his closet. “I’m gonna put on clothes now,” he teased, intentionally drawing out his movements to give Ilya time to interfere. He felt so light, playful in a way he rarely was. Ilya just brought out that side of him.
"You don't want to ask me that," Ilya grumbled, walking over to his own suitcase. He pulled out a pair of shorts and his Boston shirt, reluctantly dragging them both on. "If I had my way, we would not leave the bed the rest of the day. But I know is not what you want," he said with a shrug. Shane liked doing things. Ilya was the one who was lazy. If given the chance, he'd do nothing at all. He'd stay curled up on the couch or in bed, content to just be close to Shane. Ilya had always been that way, though, even before Shane.
“Not true, I want that very much. But I also know my body will be sore if I stay in bed with you all day. More sore than it already is,” Shane chuckled softly. He grabbed a nice compression shirt and a pair of yoga leggings, along with briefs and some socks. He moved to the bathroom to change and do his morning routine. When he emerged from the bathroom, Shane grabbed his mat from the corner of the room. “You want coffee before your walk?”
Ilya stopped with his shoe halfway to his foot when he saw Shane come out of the bathroom wearing that. He'd literally seen Shane naked less than five minutes earlier, and yet this was somehow more indecent. His clothes clung to his body, hiding absolutely nothing. Ilya wanted to pull his clothes off immediately. "Coffee. Yes, please, coffee is good," he said, forcing his mind back on what Shane had asked him. The sooner he went for a walk, the better off everyone would be. He needed to pull himself together. This was just fucking embarrassing.
Ilya wasn’t exactly subtle with his ogling. Shane couldn’t help but grin, raising an eyebrow at how Ilya was balanced; he hadn’t even gotten his shoes on. “You sure?” Shane teased, a little flush coming to his cheeks. He hadn’t gotten used to Ilya openly looking at him that way, like an object of desire. He didn’t know if he ever would; Ilya’s gaze was so intense, like he wanted to consume Shane. And Shane wanted so badly to just let him.
"If you want to do yoga instead of being bent into other positions, I would not ask me that question again." Ilya was doing his best, but he was only human, and Shane was testing every last shred of his self control. He wanted so desperately to be a good boyfriend. The kind who didn't hover and gave Shane all the space he needed. Especially since Shane was the one who was more affected in the long run by their fucking. He needed at least a few breaks here and there. But Shane was teasing him and toying with him, and there was only so far Ilya could be pushed before he dragged Shane back to bed.
Shane couldn’t help but laugh, loud and sudden at that. “Okay, okay,” he replied, taking pity on Ilya. It was so strange- for so many years, he’d felt like he was the one being caught ogling, the one staring when he wasn’t supposed to. The one who sneaked looks whenever he could. Had Ilya been doing the same the whole time? Or had Ilya just grown bold over the time at the cottage? Shane was endlessly curious about it, but he didn’t push it, just going into the kitchen.
Ilya didn't know what he would have done if Shane hadn't let up. Probably ended up dragging the both of them back to bed and not letting them leave until they were both sticky and gross once again. Fortunately, he didn't have to find out. He let out a slow breath and tried to collect himself, then followed Shane into the kitchen.
Shane put coffee on for Ilya, putting the kettle on for himself so he could make himself a cup of peppermint tea, something refreshing to wake him up this morning. The sun was still rising, the perfect time for yoga. He could hear the birds chirping through the glass. He grabbed his phone, checking on the weather for the day. “If we want to go kayaking, we’ll have to go before 2. It’s supposed to start raining then, and won’t be stopping ‘til night,” he commented, grabbing cream from the fridge for Ilya.
"We can go before then," he said. Even with the late start, it was still only about eight in the morning. Plenty of time for Ilya to take a walk and get back to kayak. He walked over to take his cup of coffee and sipped at it. "Perfect." It seemed like such a small thing, but the way Shane made coffee for him touched something inside Ilya. It was so domestic. So tender. Something boyfriends did for each other. And now, he got to have that.
Shane smiled, giving Ilya a quick kiss before he brought his yoga mat over to the paved patio outside. It was the most even ground, unlike where the producers had wanted him to perform. He pulled up the guided audio yoga meditation on his phone, getting into a simple child’s pose to start. He moved through his poses, stretching out his muscles, calming his thoughts, grounding his body. He enjoyed yoga, enjoyed the way it kept him limber and kept his mind focused. The sound of the birds, the cool air on his skin, it helped centre him in this space.
It took Shane about 40 minutes to move through his yoga routine, and by the time he finished, Ilya still wasn’t back. He thought it would be nice to make some breakfast for the two of them, repay Ilya for the nice breakfast he made the other morning. Then he remembered the jersey he’d brought with him.
A couple years ago, Ilya had donated a jersey to an MLH charity auction. It was one from his rookie year, signed with his name across the back. Shane had won the bid with such an absurd amount that nobody had come even close to unseating him. Shane had told himself at the time that he just wanted to donate money to a good cause, even if it was anonymous, and Ilya’s jersey was just a convenient thing to bid on to do so. And then he’d buried the jersey in his closet, hiding it away once it had arrived, like hiding it would make it less weird that he’d bought it. And if Shane had shoved his face into the jersey while jerking himself off, well, that was his business.
Shane had brought the jersey to the cottage. Hockey players liked seeing their partners in their jerseys, right? Rose had bought one of Shane’s to wear when she came to his games, and Shane always saw the WAGs in their partner’s jerseys. Ilya had never had a partner at a game, so maybe he would enjoy seeing this too?
That’s how Shane ended up in the kitchen, wearing Ilya’s jersey, and nothing but Ilya’s jersey. He was beating eggs to make French toast, remembering how Ilya had made the Russian version a few days ago. That’s where he was when Ilya came in, the jersey hanging almost to the bottom of his ass, his cheeks just poking out. His back was to the door, so the Rozanov across his back was visible.
~~~
The walk was exactly what Ilya had needed. It was more humid than any of the days he'd been there so far, so by the time he reached the waterfall, his hair was a mess and he was actually sweating, but it still wasn't bad. And Shane had said it was going to rain later, so it made sense. He spent a few minutes taking in the beauty before setting to work sketching in a small notebook that he’d brought with him.
Ilya had enjoyed sketching for a long time. It was something private, completely out of character with his chaotic and wild reputation- but Ilya liked it. It was calming, meditative, and just for him.
Once he was satisfied with what he'd drawn, Ilya started heading back toward the house. As much as he loved being near Shane, he realized it was just as nice to have some time by himself as it had been to give Shane his own space. Shane wasn't outside, so Ilya figured he'd gone back in after finishing yoga. Heading through the glass doors at the back of the house, Ilya stopped dead still in the middle of the kitchen.
Shane was wearing his jersey. Except it wasn't just his jersey. It was... off. Different. Not the one he currently wore. And it certainly wasn't one that he'd snuck out of Ilya's clothing, because Ilya hadn't packed it. "Shane," he said slowly, carefully. "What are you wearing, malysh?"
Shane had tensed slightly in anticipation as he heard Ilya come inside. He tried to force himself to relax, but he was keyed up. “Hm? Oh, nothing,” Shane said, trying to sound casual. “Just a little thing I picked up.” He raised his arms up to grab cinnamon down from the cupboard, raising the jersey up and exposing just how little Shane was wearing underneath.
Shane's voice was anything but casual. Ilya knew that voice. It was the one Shane used when he was trying to act innocent. The only problem with that was that Shane was a terrible liar and always had been. A shiver ran through Ilya as Shane raised his arm, and before he could stop himself, he'd crossed the room and pinned his boyfriend against the counter.
"And where did you pick up this little thing?" Ilya purred, nipping the edge of Shane's ear.
Shane was exactly where he wanted to be, feeling like the cat that got the cream. “An auction. It’s signed by my favourite player. Very rare. Very expensive.” Fuck, he should have revealed he had this ages ago if this was the reaction it got out of Ilya. Any concerns that the other man might think this was strange were washed away as he settled back against Ilya.
When Shane mentioned the auction, everything made sense, then. Well. Most things. First, Ilya realized where the jersey had come from and why it looked different to the one he wore now. This was his rookie jersey. Eight years old at this point. The second thing that Ilya noticed was the signature on the back. His own signature. He remembered a couple years back being approached to contribute something for an online auction. Ilya didn't know who had won his jersey; all he’d known was that the winner had paid a ridiculous amount of money for it. And now he knew exactly who had ended up with it.
"Mmm, very rare, yes. One of a kind." He slid one hand around to Shane's front and up to wrap around his neck. "Do you like wearing my jersey, Hollander?" Ilya asked lowly.
Shane couldn’t hide the way his breath hitched as Ilya’s hand settled possessively around his neck. Fuck, this was going better than he’d hoped. “Maybe.” He turned his head slightly so he could catch Ilya’s eye. “You like seeing me in it?” They hadn’t done anything like this before, dressing up in special clothes with the intention of fucking. This was like hockey player lingerie, the perfect thing for men who used hockey games and checks into the boards as foreplay.
"You know I do," Ilya said, though he rolled his hips against Shane just to prove his point. He'd thought seeing Shane in his yoga tights was the hottest thing he'd see today, but clearly that wasn't going to be the case. "You think I would not like seeing you so openly claimed by me?" That was really what did it. If anyone saw Shane right now, there would be no doubt as to who he belonged to. Which gave Ilya a fantastic idea. Possibly the best idea he'd ever had. Or one of the best. Definitely one of the sexiest.
Shane grinned, goofy and toothy, a smile that was typically so rare but had become increasingly common on this trip. “Thought you might. You gonna do something about it?” He teased, rocking his hips back to make the point in return. Ilya had been on him so quickly, Shane hadn’t even had a chance to be coy about it, to tease.
Oh, so Shane had known exactly what he was doing, putting the jersey on. It hadn't just been a way of showing off what he'd bought. He'd intentionally wanted to rile Ilya up. If that was what he wanted, he was going to get it. Grabbing Shane by the wrist, Ilya dragged him over to the front windows. There was no one around, no one who could see them, but the thrill was in knowing that someone could. Shane went willingly, already thrilled. This was going better than he’d hoped when he put this jersey on.
"Hands on the glass," he ordered, placing Shane's palms flat on the window.
“Mm, careful Rozanov, people will think you like me or something,” Shane teased, but he put his palms on the glass obediently. Before, when they used to just hook up every few months, Shane was so pent up and frustrated that he dropped to his knees at a moment’s notice, no teasing or anything. He’d had such need built up inside him, the need to be put in his place, to be fucked hard and left sore, he couldn’t waste time on things like teasing. He’d get so frustrated, so pent up, that it was like a cloud fogging his mind that could only be cleared by Ilya’s cock. Now, though, Shane knew this wouldn’t be snatched away from him. Shane could tease, he could draw it out, and be secure knowing that he could do it all again later.
"You think?" Ilya asked, raising his eyebrows. Oh yeah, Shane definitely knew what he was doing. He pressed a kiss to Shane's cheek and then pulled back and deliberately walked away, letting Shane watch him go. "Stay," he ordered. There was already a plan being formed. One that he was very excited to pull off. Shane leaned into the touch, unable to help the needy little sound that escaped him as Ilya walked away. Walking into the bedroom, Ilya grabbed the lube and rummaged around in Shane's drawer to find a Sharpie. For good measure, he waited a few extra seconds, peeking from a spot in the bedroom where he could see Shane to determine if the man had moved at all.
Shane had stayed, nearly vibrating with anticipation as he heard Ilya walk back towards their bedroom. What was the man planning? Shane had never been someone who liked surprises, but he was finding that with Ilya, he didn’t mind. It almost always paid off, leading to excitement that Shane couldn’t have even anticipated. He took a steadying breath, resting his forehead against the warm glass, his palms not moving an inch.
Fuck, Shane was so obedient. He wasn't even thinking about moving. If anything, he'd settled in even more than Ilya expected him to. Not that he was complaining. Ilya watched him for several more seconds, just to appreciate the beauty of the image in front of him. Before he left the bedroom, he pulled off every article of clothing he wore and threw them in the hamper. He'd want something more comfortable to lounge in than his outside clothes once they were finished.
Completely naked and armed only with a Sharpie and lube, Ilya walked back toward Shane. "Eyes closed," he said. That part was going to be hard for Shane. He liked knowing what was going to happen. But here, with just the two of them, he didn't have to worry about anything. He didn't need to think or make decisions.
Shane’s hands flexed against the glass nervously. Eyes closed was… different. Shane wouldn’t be able to see if something was going wrong. He wouldn’t be able to see if someone unexpectedly approached, if his parents dropped by without announcing themselves. He shifted from foot to foot, resting his forehead back against the glass again.
“Can I open them if I need to?” Shane mumbled softly, his voice small.
"Of course," Ilya replied tenderly, pressing a soft kiss to Shane’s cheek. He wasn't going to make Shane do anything that he really felt uncomfortable with. "Color?" he asked. They had a system for a reason, and he wanted to give Shane that reminder. That there was always an out if he needed it. That Ilya was never going to disrespect him or think less of him for needing it.
Shane let out a slow breath, relaxing again. Ilya was close again, and everything was okay. Anticipation and excitement crept up once more to replace the nervousness. “Green,” he said, confidently. They had a system. Shane could speak up at any time. And Ilya would take care of him. He turned his head, catching Ilya’s lips in a quick kiss before returning once more to rest his forehead against the glass. His cock was already half hard between his legs even without being touched, just from the anticipation.
Rather than doing anything immediately, Ilya just returned the kiss and let Shane get settled back again. He wanted this to be fun, not anything stressful. The whole point of this was to play. To enjoy sharing this side of themselves with each other. The side that liked fun and danger and whatever dynamic existed between the two of them.
"Anyone could see you like this," he said, setting the bottle down beside Shane. "If they drove up. They'd see just how hard you are for me. Your arch-rival. What would they think of you?" Ilya's voice was low and teasing as he wrapped his thumb and forefinger loosely around the base of Shane's cock.
Ilya was right, anyone could see him like this. The idea sent a spike of anxiety through Shane, so bad that he had to open his eyes for a moment just to check that that wasn't true. When he saw only his clear back yard, the slope down to the lake, Shane remembered: they were safe here. The situation with his dad was a fluke, and one that wouldn't be repeated (he knew his dad had no desire to repeat the intrusion). Shane didn't get visitors, not on this rural road in the back country of Quebec. They were safe here, and it was just him and Ilya, and they were only playing at danger. Shane was safe. He let out a slow breath, closing his eyes again. "Wearing his jersey, too," Shane murmured, his cock twitching in Ilya's grasp.
For a few seconds, Ilya wondered if he'd pushed too far. He knew Shane was anxious that people would find out about them. Hell, his own parents finding out had been enough to make him panic. When Shane opened his eyes, part of Ilya thought it was all over. But Shane didn't safeword out. Instead, he took a minute to look out the window and then closed his eyes again. Ilya felt like he'd made it past some kind of test, and internally, he felt rather pleased with himself.
"His signed jersey. From his rookie season. Would be an interesting sight, no?" Ilya smirked and uncapped the Sharpie. "Not interesting enough. Is one thing to wear a jersey. Anyone can buy a jersey. Maybe is a power move for you." He knelt down and pulled one corner of the jersey up to expose Shane's ass, then signed his name in the dark black ink across Shane’s skin. "They would not mistake this, though." Shane was his.
Shane couldn’t tell what Ilya was doing by sound. He was tense with anticipation as Ilya pulled up his jersey, but instead of spreading his cheeks like he assumed, Shane felt a strange pressure against his skin. Then he felt Ilya moving, the shape of letters forming over his skin, and Shane nearly came on the fucking spot.
“Oh God,” Shane groaned, his cock twitching hard as a bit of precum dripped down from his cock, making a spot on the floor. He’d never realized he would be someone who was into possessive play, especially considering they hadn’t been able to leave any marks for years. But it was specifically because they hadn’t been able to leave marks that this was so hot. Shane wanted Ilya’s mark everywhere now. He wanted there to be no doubt that he was completely and utterly fucking owned.
Ilya could tell by the way Shane's hips stuttered that he was more than a little into it. And when he looked at Shane's cock, he knew exactly how into it he was. Not that Ilya was unaffected by it, but seeing how much Shane loved it was enough to turn him on that much more. Ilya knew part of it was the ownership. The fact that Ilya was leaving his mark on Shane's skin. And it only made Ilya want to claim him that much more. One hand wrapped around Shane's cock again, and Ilya sank his blunt fingernails in the meat of Shane's ass, holding him firm so Ilya could bite down hard, just under his name.
“Fuck,” Shane whimpered out pathetically, his cock absolutely dripping with precum. They hadn’t really experimented with pain too much before, but Shane found he loved it. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering he played a full contact sport. He’d always loved when Ilya slammed him into the boards, the deep ache of the bruises Ilya would leave on his body, but that was always on the ice. They’d never done it in the bedroom. Shane found he wanted more, though- he wanted to be completely and utterly claimed, owned and ruined in a way that should frighten him if he was thinking clearly- but he hadn’t been able to think clearly around Ilya for years. The precum drooled onto Ilya’s hand, wetness proof of how much Shane liked it. He couldn’t hide it if he tried.
"Oh fuck, Shane," Ilya groaned, using the precum in his palm to stroke Shane's cock. His movement was too light and slow to get Shane off, just enough to tease him. They hadn't talked about anything like this before. Ilya didn't know how far was too far, but judging from the way Shane responded to him, they hadn't reached that point yet. This definitely needed to be explored further. And probably after they finished, when they were both able to have a coherent conversation about it. But Ilya didn't want to stop right now, and he trusted that Shane would use his word if he needed to.
He pressed a kiss right on top of the red marks his teeth had left behind, then traced his tongue along the skin. "You look good with my autograph," Ilya said with a smirk.
“I’m a big guy. People might not see that one,” Shane replied, already breathless. Shane had a way of asking for things without asking, hinting and prodding until he got the result he wanted. Shane should be scared by how badly he wanted Ilya to use and abuse him, to chew him up and spit him out. Ilya hadn’t even begun to approach any sort of line of too far, and he desperately hoped the man would keep pushing. Shane’s hands twitched on the glass, but didn’t move, obedient.
Oh, so it was like that. Ilya had come to realize over the years they'd been together that Shane very rarely asked for what he wanted. Especially when it came to sex. And while Ilya hoped eventually they'd get him to a place where he could, he'd gotten used to reading into what Shane was actually asking for. This, he understood. This was familiar territory for him.
Very deliberately, Ilya scrawled his name on Shane's other ass cheek and gave it the same treatment as the first one, gripping hard enough to leave marks before sinking his teeth into the muscle. He wasn't sure how he didn't break the skin this time, as hard as he bit down.
Shane just moaned wordlessly, his cock drooling steadily now. He wanted more, wanted it everywhere, but Ilya also seemed to have a plan. His ass throbbed with the pain of the bite marks, and he knew with certainty that they would take at least a week to fade, maybe more. Fuck, if Shane was lucky, he’d be able to press into those bruises for long after he and Ilya had been separated and be reminded of Ilya’s claim.
Ilya moved around to the side and took Shane's wrist. "Hands behind your head," he ordered. His cock was thick and aching, but he wanted to enjoy this. Shane would be marked inside and out by the time Ilya was done with him. He helped Shane take a step back so he could slide between Shane and the window, then took Shane's cock in his hand.
"Hold very still." Despite not being as big as Ilya, there was still plenty of room to work with. Ilya gripped him a little too firmly and scrawled out his signature along the shaft, then bit down just to the left of Shane's cock.
Shane was barely breathing as he obediently folded his hands behind his head. Fuck, this was filthy, this was so wrong- yet Shane had never been so hard in his fucking life. The sharpie was just a bit prickly against the sensitive skin of his poor cock, and the pain made him drip even more. When Ilya bit him, Shane let out a pathetic, punched out groan. The jersey was settled over his hips, Ilya’s Raiders logo across Shane’s chest, bundling him up in his rival team’s logo. Here, Shane wasn’t a big hockey star in his own right- he was just a boy, a WAG, wearing his boyfriend’s jersey, covered in his claim.
Ilya wasn't done yet. He cupped Shane's balls and tugged ever so slightly, then signed his name there, too. The handwriting was barely legible, but that didn't matter. It was about the ownership at this point. Claiming every part of Shane so no one would ever question who he belonged to. So many years had passed, and he'd never been able to show any kind of possessiveness over Shane. The most anyone could see them together was when they slammed each other into the boards or played into their rivalry for the press. Not here, though. Here, Shane belonged to Ilya. His teeth sank into the inside of Shane's thigh, right near the crease. By the time Ilya was done with him, he would feel it for days.
“Fuck! Please, Ilya, can I open my eyes, please,” Shane begged, his voice coming out half as a sob as he dripped with arousal. He wanted, no, needed to see Ilya’s claim on him. He needed to see the evidence, needed to know that Ilya had made it permanent. Shane didn’t even know what Ilya was writing on him with, but he hoped that it was something that would last.
The last time Shane opened his eyes, it had been because he needed to make sure they were completely alone. To ensure they were safe. This time was different. He didn't need anything. It wasn't a matter of safety. Ilya could tell that much. Still, he wasn't going to outright prohibit Shane from doing it if he really needed to. Instead, he wanted to see just how obedient Shane could be. "You can open your eyes," Ilya began, "but only if you feel unsafe. If you open, we stop. Understood?"
Shane whined in protest, but kept his eyes firmly closed. The last thing he wanted was for this to stop. He just wanted to see Ilya’s claim, he wanted to see the marks. It was almost torture having to just feel, no visual stimulation to distract or delight him.
“Understood,” Shane replied obediently, his hands still folded behind his head. Ilya had given him an order, and Shane didn’t intend to disobey.
Ilya pressed a tender kiss to the mark he'd just left behind. "Good boy," he said, his tone approving. He knew how hard it was for Shane, but the fact that he was doing it anyway was commendable and deserved praise. "Anyone who looks at you will see who you belong to." Not just that he belonged to Ilya but that he'd belonged to him for years. As long as he'd been in the MLH. Longer, even. They had never known a Shane Hollander who wasn't Ilya's. Just for good measure, Ilya bit down on the inside of Shane's other thigh. He wouldn't be able to press them together without feeling it. Every step he took would be a reminder of this moment.
Tears pricked at the corner of Shane’s eyes as Ilya bit down again, the pain sending shocks of pleasure right to his cock. He tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but it came out shaky and almost gasping. Shane didn’t know how anyone could look at him and not already see that Shane’s heart belonged to Ilya. On the ice, Shane felt like a planet orbiting Ilya’s sun, always aware of his presence on the ice. Here, at the cottage, Shane was constantly aware of Ilya, wanting to be close to him. And now these physical reminders would be branded into his skin, bruises that would last and remind Shane exactly who he belonged to. “Thank you,” he choked out, his poor cock achingly hard and leaking like a faucet.
The glisten of tears on Shane's lashes nearly gave Ilya pause. He knew Shane could get overwhelmed, and he didn't want this to be one of those times. But then Shane thanked him, and Ilya knew he was still okay. Sliding his hands up underneath his jersey, Ilya raked his nails down the flat planes of Shane's abs, marking every single part of him. By the time he was done, Ilya wanted him completely taken apart so he could put him back together again.
"You're welcome, lyubimyy," he said, nuzzling Shane's crotch with his cheek. It was a good thing he was using Sharpie. Nothing else would last half a minute with how wet Shane was.
Shane’s hips jerked automatically when Ilya raked his nails down Shane’s body, whining pitifully as he silently begging Ilya to touch his cock more. Shane was dying, he was pretty sure- he was so horny he could barely think, and yet Ilya was still teasing him, drawing it out.
Ilya knew he was being a tease, but he liked this. There was a certain amount of control he had over Shane. His pleasure, his pain, his body. Maybe it should have scared him, or at least made him uncomfortable how much he enjoyed it, but Shane seemed to be into it, and Shane didn't want to talk about it when Ilya tried to ask him about it. So for now, he was just going to ride it out.
Tugging the jersey up, Ilya stood and surveyed the damage. The marks were pink but hadn't broken the skin. Ilya wasn't done yet, though. He grabbed the Sharpie again and signed his name across one of Shane's pecs, then bit down. By the time he was finished, he wanted his mark everywhere.
“Fuck, Ilya, please, need you,” Shane choked out, another groan coming from his mouth unbidden. He couldn’t keep holding it in, couldn’t last much longer. He might cum entirely untouched at this point, just from Ilya marking him all over. At this point, Shane wouldn’t be able to go without a shirt. Ilya’s claim was being laid, thoroughly and completely. Shane belonged to him. It felt like Ilya was erasing any other person who had ever touched Shane, replacing it with love and possession.
"One more," Ilya said. He was almost done, and then he'd give Shane what he needed. With one final flourish, he signed Shane's other pec and bit down underneath it, fully claiming every part of him. Then he guided Shane forward again.
"Hands on the window," he ordered, already reaching for the lube. "So good, my Shane." His. Only ever his. Ilya wanted to wipe away any trace of anyone else's presence. They didn't matter. All that mattered was Ilya. He slicked his cock, and spread Shane's cheeks. It would be uncomfortable like this, they hadn’t fucked since last night so Shane would be open but not loose, but Ilya had a feeling Shane would only like it that much more. Before Shane could respond, he lined his cock up and pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” Shane almost shouted as he felt Ilya finally, blissfully push in. Shane was practically fucking split open, he could feel Ilya in his fucking throat. He could barely breathe, leaning his forehead against the glass…. And he lasted about two seconds with Ilya inside of him before he came with a loud cry, entirely untouched, making a complete mess of the window and the floor as he trembled.
“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Shane repeated, feeling as though it would never end as his hips jerked. He would have crumbled if not for the firm glass in front of him, holding him up.
Any other time, Ilya would have pulled out and let Shane finish him off with his mouth or hand. Not today, though. Today, he wanted to utterly ruin Shane. He wrapped an arm firmly around his waist and used it as leverage to fuck hard and deep inside his boyfriend. Each snap of his hips was a reminder of the possessiveness he felt toward Shane. Harsh grunts and moans of pleasure filled the large room, but Ilya didn't try to hold back. Nor did he try to avoid Shane's prostate. Not this time.
Shane couldn’t do much more than just take it, squirming with stimulation as he faced wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure. Ilya didn’t let him have a moment's break, and a couple tears spilled down Shane’s cheeks from the pleasure. He braced himself against the glass, his front half pressed against the glass as he arched his back.
Shane was doing so beautifully, and Ilya told him as much in English and in Russian. The glass was a mess - Shane was a mess - but he wasn't using his word. He wasn't tapping out yet. Pressing his forehead against Shane's shoulder, Ilya fucked him hard and fast, his pace brutal. He imagined them doing this again, only next time with a plug to keep all his cum inside Shane afterward, and that was nearly enough to send him over the edge right then and there. He managed to hold off, though, not wanting it to be over just yet.
With the continued stimulation, Shane couldn't get a break. His orgasm didn't seem to end, his cock continuing to leak as he cried out, clenching around Ilya's cock. It was almost too much, but Ilya's arms were secure around him, keeping him upright, keeping him safe.
"Ilya, Ilya, fuck- please, mark me, need you to-" Shane begged, tears continuing to fall down his cheeks. It was so, so good, his body was practically soaring as he rocked with the force of Ilya's thrusts.
It took an extraordinary amount of willpower for Ilya to pull out before he came inside Shane. Instead, he spilled on his own jersey, streaks of white contrasting sharply with the black fabric. Shane whined in protest as Ilya pulled out. Shane had been so good, he’d wanted his reward- to feel Ilya spill deep inside him, mark him from the inside out, but he didn’t get that. He did groan slightly as he realized why; Ilya was cumming on him.
Ilya's breath came in harsh gasps, and the only sound he could hear was the high pitched ringing in his ears. Every nerve felt like it was on fire. He could barely stay standing, his orgasm had taken so much out of him. When he finally came down from his high, he pressed a lazy kiss to Shane's shoulder.
"Khoroshiy mal'chik," he mumbled, too blissed out to call Shane a good boy in English.
Ilya squished Shane against the glass, but Shane couldn’t really find it in himself to care all that much. He was tired, sensitive and sticky now, but still feeling good from Ilya. He didn’t know if he was allowed to open his eyes yet, so he kept them closed, his cheeks wet with tear tracks.
Under ordinary circumstances, Ilya would have been content just to let himself come back down on his own time. But this wasn't an ordinary circumstance, and Shane needed him. He'd been rougher than they'd ever played around with before, so it was important to check in and make sure Shane was okay.
Forcing himself to stand, Ilya walked around and took Shane's wrists, turning him away from the window and into Ilya's arms. "You can open your eyes when you are ready," he said, one hand sliding through Shane's hair. He wanted to be a steady presence for Shane, someone who could comfort him now that the rough part was over.
“I’m gonna have to wash my jersey now. The signature’s gonna come out,” Shane complained wetly, resting his face against Ilya’s neck. It was absolutely absurd that that was what came out of his mouth after all of that, and Shane couldn’t help but giggle a little at it. He was trembling slightly from the overstimulation- Ilya had overridden every sense, every nerve, making Shane’s entire body light up. Now, Shane had to come back down. He felt the steady sting of Ilya’s bites all over his body, and a pleasant soreness between his legs.
"Wh- Oh my god," Ilya grumbled. That was what Shane was worried about? He'd just had one of the most intense fucks of his life. It was Shane, though, so really Ilya should have known better.
"Is more rare like this. You could auction it again," he teased. Shane looked like he was barely able to stand, so Ilya scooped him up bridal style and started to walk them both back to the bedroom. After everything they'd done, he wanted to take care of Shane. At the very least to inspect the marks he'd left to make sure they weren't bleeding.
Shane managed to lift his head to give Ilya a teary eyed glare at the very suggestion. Shane’s cheeks were red, the tear tracks making him look messy. “No,” he said, though his face said enough. He felt sticky in the jersey now, and he wanted to inspect himself, but he couldn’t find the energy to even move. He rested his face back in Ilya’s neck, his arm wrapping around Ilya. He sniffled softly, wiping off his cheeks. It was a bit embarrassing that he’d cried, but he hadn’t even noticed it at the time.
It was only at the glare that Ilya realized Shane had been crying. The sight made his stomach do something strange. He didn't feel bad that he'd made Shane cry, but part of him thought that maybe he should. Like he was doing something wrong by not being more upset with himself. He tucked the thought away for later and eased Shane down onto the bed. "I will come back," he assured, then walked into the bathroom to retrieve a cloth and some cream for the bite marks. Ilya returned as quickly as possible and climbed onto the bed beside Shane, pulling him close. He still had half a bottle of his own water, so he grabbed it from the nightstand and held it to Shane's lips. "Drink.”
Shane didn’t like when Ilya left, but he didn’t say anything. Instead he just curled back into Ilya as soon as the man returned, sniffling softly. “Thanks,” he said, taking a drink. He wasn’t that thirsty, but it was nice, regulating.
“That was really hot,” Shane said, because he was worried Ilya was going to get the wrong idea based on the fact that Shane was crying. Shane didn’t know why it had happened, or why it was still happening. He didn’t want to still be wearing the sticky jersey, but the thought of pulling away from Ilya to shed it was awful, so he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend tighter. He pressed his face to Ilya’s neck again, not wanting Ilya to see his face until he could get it together.
Ilya was grateful for the reassurance. He wasn't panicking, but the anxiety about hurting Shane could have very quickly consumed him. It was helpful, knowing that Shane had enjoyed himself. One hand found its way into Shane's hair, and Ilya stroked gently, the movement soothing.
"I liked it, too," he admitted. "Do you... is it okay now?" Sometimes things felt good in the moment, but he knew that afterward they could feel different. Ilya wanted to know that Shane was still okay. That he wasn't going to drop.
“I’m okay,” Shane said, sniffling again. He didn’t know why he was still emotional, it was embarrassing, honestly. He hated being emotional in front of other people, he preferred to keep it deep, deep down. But his defenses were down, and he couldn’t shove himself back together right now.
“Was it okay for you?” He figured yes, but Shane was always worried about disappointing Ilya. Then again, Ilya had seemed fairly enthusiastic. And Shane had followed every rule. “Did you feel good?” Now that Shane was feeling a bit more clear headed, he was also a bit embarrassed. It probably shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, to have Ilya mark him like that. But if Ilya felt good, then Shane could put that to rest. He couldn’t be embarrassed if Ilya was happy- because then they could be happy together.
Keeping his movements slow and intentional, Ilya rubbed the back of Shane's head, stroking his fingers gently through the silky strands of Shane's hair. It was just as grounding for him as he knew it was for Shane. "It was more than okay," Ilya assured. "I maybe liked it more than I should have, but you were... Fuck, I wish you could have seen it." Ilya knew there was no way in hell Shane would let anything like this be filmed, but he wished that wasn't the case. Shane deserved to see how beautiful he looked. How fucking perfect he was. He slid his free hand down and traced the teeth marks on Shane's ass. "Does it hurt?" he asked.
Shane whimpered a little, pressing into Ilya’s touch. “Yeah. I like it,” he admitted. It still stung, a delicious reminder of Ilya’s claim on him. Shane finally pulled away enough to look down. “Fuck,” he murmured, cheeks darkening as he got a look at himself. His cock had Ilya’s signature scrawled across it, and the bite marks were already darkening into bruises. Shane’s cock gave a valiant twitch as he felt a stir of arousal in his stomach. “Is that Sharpie?”
Ilya smirked, looking more than a little proud of himself. Between Shane's reaction to the Sharpie and the way he pressed back into Ilya's fingers, it was obvious he liked it. "Yes," he said, reaching up to wipe underneath Shane's eye. There was still a part of him that was concerned at just how much Shane had cried.
"The tears... can you tell me why they were there?" Ilya asked. It didn't seem like a bad thing, but Ilya needed to make sure. He didn't want Shane to think too much and risk destroying the moment they were still in, but he needed to know.
“It hurt. It was overwhelming. Not bad, but made me feel a lot. And….” Shane squirmed a bit at having to sit in his emotions. “We’ve never gotten to mark each other before.” Well, Shane still hadn’t marked Ilya, but that was okay. He wasn’t going to push- Ilya had made it very clear that he liked their dynamic as it was.
They should probably talk about the pain of it all. There were many things they should probably talk about - what things Shane liked and didn't like - but not right now. Right now, Ilya wanted to make sure Shane was taken care of.
Shane sat up, unable to bear to continue to wear the sticky jersey anymore. “Ilyaaaaa. This better not stain,” he said with a little pout as he looked at the back of the jersey. Ilya had made a mess of him.
Ilya couldn’t help but chuckle at the annoyance coming from Shane and pulled him back for another kiss. "So it could stain. So what? You would have a piece of me to carry when we are apart." Ilya didn't understand why it would be such a bad thing for him to have left a stain on his own jersey. Especially since Shane seemed to enjoy being marked, and that was something he filed away for later. Shane wanted to mark him, too, that much was clear. So Ilya was going to give him a chance to do just that, however Shane wanted.
Shane pouted, rolling to flop on top of Ilya. “I guess that’s true.” He didn’t like that it was going to wash out the signature. And he didn’t like stains. Maybe if he threw it in soon, it wouldn’t be too bad. He pressed a soft kiss to Ilya’s lips, cupping his cheek.
“Why did you say you shouldn’t like it?” Shane asked, brow furrowing a little as he returned to Ilya’s earlier comment. Shane had asked him to do it. Was it bad to want this? Was it really deviant? Should Shane not like it?
Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane and nuzzled against him. "I did like it," he said, wanting to establish that first and foremost. He could see the hesitation in Shane's eyes, the doubt, and he didn't want that. "It's just... kind of scary to like it that much?"
Sliding his hand down, Ilya cupped Shane's ass, his palm resting on top of the bite mark. "It's fucking hot to see my marks all over you," he said, pulling Shane in for another kiss. This one was more than just a tender peck. He wanted Shane to understand that this wasn't a bad thing. It was just feelings that Ilya was working through.
Shane kissed him back, gently rubbing his thumb over Ilya’s cheek. He remembered Ilya talking about how hard his father was on his mother… It made sense that Ilya might feel conflicted about hurting Shane. “I liked it. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to. I really liked it,” he said, kissing Ilya’s cheek reassuringly. They should probably talk about things- lines, so Ilya might feel more comfortable hurting Shane in a nice way.
It did help, knowing that Shane liked it. More than anything else, Ilya wanted to make his boyfriend feel good. And given that Shane had leaked like a faucet the entire time, then came as soon as Ilya pushed inside him, there was no mistaking how much Shane had enjoyed himself. "Good," Ilya said, some of the tension easing from his body. "Can I..." He didn't know why this part made him feel so self-conscious, given what they'd just done. There was just something far more intimate about this part. "Can I look at you? To see you're not bleeding? I have cream..."
Shane’s heart twinged a little. Ilya looked so concerned, and Shane didn’t want to see him worried. “Of course. Nothing felt like you broke the skin. But you can check.” This was such a simple thing he could give Ilya, something to help him feel more secure. “You were so careful. You walked the line of making it hurt but not harming me. You were so good, Ilya.” Shane moved to lay on his back, gesturing for Ilya to take his fill.
There was something thrilling about seeing Shane covered in his autographs, both the scrawl of his name and the teeth and nail marks he'd left behind. It made his breath catch in his throat, and he leaned down to press a tender kiss to the first mark on Shane's pec. Already, it had started to fade a little bit. By the time he made it to Shane's chest, Ilya had just been desperate to get inside him. The rest would be worse, he knew. Still, he treated it just the same as all the others, rubbing an antiseptic cream along the mark.
"You were fucking leaking," Ilya said, his voice low as he remembered just how much Shane had enjoyed himself. He moved to the second bite mark and soothed the sting with his tongue.
Shane’s eyes fluttered shut again. He wanted to be able to examine himself, really get a look at what Ilya had done to him, and this wasn’t the best time for it, since Ilya was taking care of him.
“I told you. I liked it,” Shane murmured, a bit of an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. He had really liked it, more than he’d expected to. “It felt good. You marking me. Claiming me.”
Ilya didn't linger any longer than he needed to, instead just massaging in the cream with a kiss to each of the indents. The ones further down were deeper, but only one of the ones on the inside of Shane's thighs looked like it was close to breaking skin. Even then, it was only going to leave behind a nasty bruise. Anyone who looked at Shane would be able to tell what had happened. He helped Shane onto his front and gave his back the same treatment. Ilya could tell Shane wanted a chance to take stock of the damage, based on the way he kept trying to look down, so finally, he sat back and let his boyfriend up.
"Okay, I'm done," he said, feeling much better about the whole thing. Having a chance to take care of Shane had grounded him in a way Ilya didn't know he needed.
“Thank you,” Shane said sincerely. He leaned in, pressing a gentle, loving kiss to Ilya’s lips. “Can I go look at it? In the bathroom?” He asked. He’d stay here with Ilya if he needed, but Shane was eager to get a look at the aftermath on his body. Part of him still wished he could leave a mark on Ilya, but he didn’t want to push too much against their dynamic. Ilya liked to be the one in charge.
Ilya didn't want to deny Shane the chance to see what he'd left behind, especially since Shane was the one who had wanted it so badly. He nuzzled against Shane's cheek and nodded, lying back on the bed. Just because he could, he slapped Shane lightly on the outside of the thigh. "You know, you can take pictures," Ilya suggested with a smirk, holding out Shane’s phone to him as the man stood up.